My parents, sister, and brother were arrested along with all other Sinti and Roma that the nazis managed to find on 16 May 1944. I was staying that night with an aunt. When we heard about this razzia, we went immediately into hiding, but later we were discovered and brought to Westerbork. That was on 19 May 1944. The 'gypsy transport' had already left so they couldn't put us on the train on time. So they decided to bring us to the train station in Assen. That's when I saw my parents, sister, and brother for the last time, in cattle cars. I managed to escape because a 'good' policeman, when seeing that I wanted to join them, pulled me back and said: "Get lost". We were in hiding during the rest of the war. I was seven-years old, and I first lived with my aunt, later with my grandparents. After the war I went to live with an aunt, who had two daughters, and I was treated like a brother.
Get in, quick, quick, the train on the platform
Westerbork, where their last journey started.
My sister's blue coat behind the grid of the cattle car
I still can't bear that that image.
I see my mother, her beautiful hair, once upon a time it shone in the sun
O, that train on the platform.
Robbed of her hair, disgraced by nazi hands
forever etched in my memory.
There is my father, distraught, he calls, we see each other
why, why after fifty years
do I still not know the answer.
Despair, agony, intense sadness.
Slowly the train begins to move,
despair, fear, sadness overwhelm me.
Guards scream, boots stamp,
I am alone.
On that platform I lost everything dear to me,
everything, also my sister's blue jacket.
I prayed, screamed, I want to be with you,
together, die together, feel the same pain.
After fifty years, my children are grown up, the pain has not lessened,
do they overcome their death?