Mr van Omhoog, too, longed for peace and quiet and wanted to retire. He had said this much in a letter to his patron, Rutger’s great-uncle.
Uncle Frederik found it necessary, however, for Rutger first to travel to the Netherlands to acquaint himself with various matters before being appointed administrator. Uncle Frederik also realized, however, that his nephew would not wish to be separated from his wife and son for such a long time, and therefore suggested that Elza and little Gideon should also make the journey to the Netherlands. At least, if Elza dared to do this. For everyone knew that the journey to the Netherlands and back was not without danger. Apart from storms and hurricanes, there were also the pirates and, in times of war, enemy ships. Above all, the eight-week stay on board could not be described as pleasant. Cramped quarters, bad food and disease were the order of the day.
Rutger received the letter with his uncle’s proposition in November 1768. Elza wasn’t afraid to make the journey with Rutger. It was not a good idea to arrive in Holland in the middle of winter, so the family would board in January so as to land around the end of March. They would then stay six months with Uncle Frederik, who lived in a fine mansion on the Keizersgracht in Amsterdam.
There was much to do in preparation for the journey. Alex, Maisa and Afanaisa would go along, for how on earth would Elza survive in Holland without her slaves around her, who always did everything for her. The other slaves would remain in the grounds and keep the house in good order until the family returned towards the end of the year.
When they all departed, little Gideon was already one year old. He was about the house, walking, running and of course falling all over the place, playing on the back veranda and going into the grounds with Afanaisa’s guiding hand. He was a happy child, rarely cried, and had everyone laughing at his mischievous antics. On 28 January the family left Paramaribo, and on 29 May Pa Levi Fernandez, who was by chance in the town for a week, staying with the De Ledesmas, received the following letter.
Amsterdam, 2 April 1769
Dear Papa,
Here is the first letter I’m writing to you from this cold land, for oh isn’t it cold and wet here. I could never have imagined anything like it. But wait: I’ll begin at the beginning. During the first weeks the voyage went well. The sea was calm, the wind was favourable, and so the voyage went quickly. Rutger, Gideon and I had good accommodation in the stern of the ship, where the officers also had their quarters. The slaves would be sleeping in the forecastle along with the sailors, but Maisa and Afanaisa were so unhappy there that even the first night we took them in with us and let them sleep in a corner of our cabin. After crossing the ocean, and after we had landed on Madeira, the sea became rougher and it began to get cold, too. The further north we sailed, the worse it became. We had to remain inside, and the portholes were nailed shut. So we got very little fresh air. It was stuffy and smelly. This made Gideon peevish and fidgety.
Fortunately, it did not make him ill. The goat that we had brought on board gave us enough milk each day to be able to make his porridge, and the large store of oranges and lemons ensured that we did not get scurvy or diarrhoea. We could even give some to the crew. The chickens and eggs were also most useful. Maisa went to cook our meal every day in the galley. She found it so dirty that she dared not leave anything around, not even a fork. When she had finished she brought everything back to us in a large basket. We experienced a few heavy storms, and to tell the truth I was frightened to death, but everything turned out all right in the end, and after seven weeks, on 22 March, very early, we were able to sail up the IJ.142 And Papa: it snowed! Really: it snowed! I was woken by a frightened cry from Afanaisa. She stood at the door and called, “Misi, something like cotton is falling from the sky and it’s burning.”143 When we approached the town it was a wonderful sight, but oh so cold.
How fortunate I was to be able to borrow Mrs Tallans’ winter clothing, for then I at least had warm shawls for myself and the slave-girls. We dressed Gideon in a lot of clothes, all of them far too large, for the Tallans’ youngest child is four. Gideon looked like a round barrel with all that stuff on, and he didn’t like it one bit. And then of course there was the problem of the shoes, for of course the slaves could not walk around in bare feet in all that cold. Now, Rutger explained that they would have to wear shoes. Since they were not in Suriname, the Suriname rules no longer applied. Maisa refused: she had no intention of putting those things on.
“I’ll have no white person being angry with me,”144 she said, and no matter what we said, she didn’t want to know.