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Black Tulips
By
Carin Klabbers-Ouwens
Translated by Philip Klabbers
When I was a child growing up in The Netherlands, I often
begged my mother to tell me this story about an experience
her family had at the end of World War II.
During the terrible last winter of the German occupation,
the hongerwinter, food was very scarce in The Netherlands.?
People were so desperately hungry they began to eat small
animals and many things not normally considered edible,
including tulip bulbs.? People discovered the bulbs could be
cooked like potatoes or turnips, or even eaten raw.
For
centuries, my mother's family, the Van der Veldes, had owned
a highly successful tulip business, which provided jobs for
many in our village of Ridderkerk.? Their bulbs were popular
throughout Europe and abroad, and the family name was known
far and wide.? But the war shut their business down, and
during the winter of hunger, my grandfather, Arnoldus,
donated all his tulip bulbs to feed the hungriest villagers.
All, that is, except for a few irreplaceable bulbs.? For
years, Arnoldus had been trying to cultivate a black tulip,
something no gardener had ever been able to do.? He was now
very close.? By careful selection, he had created a
dark-purple tulip.? These few bulbs he guarded vigorously to
prevent people from stealing them for food.? He did not even
give them to his family to eat, because they would make just
one meager meal, and eating them would destroy his chance of
restarting his business and restoring his village after the
war.
One
day, underground Radio Orange announced that the war was
over.? There was great rejoicing, but more hardships were
still to come.? The German forces that had occupied and
terrorized our country for five long years started to
withdraw, battalion by battalion.? But as they pulled back,
some soldiers deserted and fled toward Germany, sacking and
looting as they went.? There was much destruction, and the
Dutch people still faced grave dangers.
My
grandfather, Arnoldus, looked at his pale, thin children and
realized that the hunger could continue for a long time as
the war left poverty in its wake.? He wondered if it might
be time to feed his precious bulbs to his children.?
Certainly it would be better than losing the bulbs to the
marauding bands of fleeing German soldiers.? After hours of
agonizing, he made his decision.? He seized a shovel and
went into the garden.? There he found my mother, Albertha,
then just seven, looking flushed and agitated.
"Papa! Papa!? I must tell you something," Albertha said.?
Over her shoulder, Arnoldus saw a band of drunken, looting
soldiers coming toward them down the street.? He whispered
to Albertha to run inside the house and frantically began
digging for his bulbs.? Over and over his shovel came up
empty.? He was too late.? Someone had already stolen them.
Crazed with grief and rage, he ran toward the street
screaming, "They have stolen my tulip bulbs!"? Albertha,
watching from the doorway, cried out and ran to stop him.?
Before she could reach Arnoldus, a German soldier raised his
pistol and shot him.? Although the German surrender had been
signed, a curfew was still technically in effect, and my
grandfather had violated it.
Arnoldus survived his wounds and mended slowly.? When he
could finally leave his bed, he sat by the window staring
out into the garden.? He so regretted that he hadn't given
the bulbs to his family sooner.? The war was over and spring
was coming, but life remained very hard.? Many houses had
been bombed.? There was little food and few jobs.
Finally the weather warmed, and Arnoldus was able to sit
outside.? Albertha stayed close to him, attending to his
every need, rarely leaving him even to play with her
friends.? She had become quiet and reserved, although she
had been a happy, bubbly child before the war.? Sometimes
she would try to cheer her father by pointing to the pile of
rubble next door, all that was left of their neighbors'
bombed house.? She reminded her father that at least their
family still had each other and a roof above their heads.?
Arnoldus realized the truth in her words and often glanced
over at the ruins to remind himself of how lucky they had
been.
One
day, he noticed something sprouting among the broken bricks
and concrete.? He pointed out the green leaves to Albertha.?
Suddenly, all her reserve left her.? She began to cry
hysterically.? Between convulsive sobs, she told him that
these were his black tulip bulbs.? He held her close and
listened with amazement as she told her story.
Just before her father was shot, Albertha had been in the
garden when a friendly German soldier had approached her.?
Carl Meier was stationed in the family's neighborhood during
the Occupation.? He had Van der Velde bulbs in his own
garden back home in Germany, and appreciated their value.?
Carl had watched as Arnoldus gave away the precious bulbs to
feed his neighbors, and he suspected that there were more
hidden away.? The soldier warned Albertha that a band of
German looters was on its way down the street.? He urged her
to hide the remaining bulbs away from the yard, which would
surely be searched.? And he begged her not to mention his
name to anyone, as he could be court-martialed for his
warning.
Just then, the laughing and shouting of drunken soldiers
could be heard coming down the road.? Carl Meier fled.? With
no time to summon her father, Albertha scrabbled in the dirt
with her bare hands, scooped up the bulbs from their hiding
place, and reburied them in the rubble next door.
As
she clambered back over the fence into her own garden, she
found her father digging with a shovel.? She tried to tell
him what she had done, but he was so intent on his work that
he ignored her.
For
some time, it was uncertain whether Arnoldus would survive
his gunshot wound.? When he began to recover, Albertha went
to retrieve the bulbs, knowing that seeing them would raise
his spirits.? She climbed over the fence and gasped with
horror.? An unstable wall had collapsed on the spot,
covering the bulbs.? It seemed impossible to the little girl
that anyone could ever move the heavy slab.? Overwhelmed
with sorrow, Albertha decided not to tell anyone what she
had done.
However, during the last cruel days of winter, ice must have
formed in the cracks of the wall, gently forcing them
apart.? With the warmth of spring, the ice had melted, and
the tender shoots had made their way up toward the sun.?
Arnoldus had survived, and so had his bulbs.? Now father and
daughter stood looking at the young green leaves.
It
took some time, but my grandfather rebuilt his business,
starting with those few bulbs.? The rare dark-purple tulips
eventually became an enormous source of income for the
people in Ridderkerk and provided many much-needed jobs.?
The recovery of Ridderkerk persuaded its people that there
could again be happiness after so much misery, and new life
after so much death.? As the tulips rose from the ruins and
came to bloom again, so did The Netherlands.
Although the Van der Veldes tried to locate Carl Meier, he
was never found.?
But
the family did find a way to honor his courage and
kindness.? When my mother's ittle brother was born the
following year, the grateful family named him Karel, the
Dutch version of "Carl."
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Reprinted by permission of Carin Klabbers-Ouwens (c) 1999
from Chicken Soup for the Gardener's Soul by Jack Canfield,
Mark Victor Hansen, Cynthia Brian, Cindy Buck, Marion Owen,
Pat Stone and Carol Sturgulewski.
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Blessings to you today
Bob Johnston
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