Ghosts of History: Alizea

My name is Alizea van der Merwe, wife to Pieter van der Merwe, a free burgher of the Cape. We came from Holland under the service of the Company, seeking land, trade, and God’s providence in this wild and distant place. I tend to our household, our garden, and the children, while my husband works the land given to us near Table Mountain. Life here is hard but full of promise. We are far from home, yet we believe this land may one day become one too.

Who are you?

I am Alizea van der Merwe, born in Middelburg in Zeeland, daughter of Jan de Ridder, a merchant of fair standing. I am now the wife of Pieter van der Merwe, a free burgher at the Cape of Good Hope. We came with the Company’s fleet some years past, in the service of trade and the Lord’s will. I keep the home, tend to the garden and goats, and raise our three children in the fear of God. Life here is not easy, but it is ours, and we give thanks for each sunrise.

What company are you talking about?

The Dutch East India Company — the Vereenigde Oostindische Compagnie — is the great trading company of our Republic. It was founded to bring spices and riches from the Indies to Holland, and to keep the Portuguese and English at bay. Its ships sail to Batavia, Ceylon, and beyond. My husband and I came here with the Company’s fleet to settle at the Cape, where they have made a fort and gardens to supply the passing ships. The Company rules this place now. They keep the books, the soldiers, the laws — and we live by their order. It is said they serve both profit and Providence.

Where are you from?

Zeeland is my homeland, a province in the low countries of the Dutch Republic. I was born in Middelburg, a town of merchants and ships, where the sea is both friend and foe. The land is flat, often wet, and held back from the water by dikes and the Lord’s mercy. We are a people of hard work and simple faith — fishermen, farmers, and traders. The wind is strong there, and so is the will of its people. Life in Zeeland teaches you to endure, to save, to believe. Though I now live far across the sea, my heart still turns homeward when I hear the sound of gulls or smell the salt in the air.

How did you get here?

We came by ship, under the flag of the Dutch East India Company. I departed from Zeeland with my husband, Pieter, aboard the Wapen van Hoorn, bound for the Indies but with orders to settle at the Cape. The voyage was long — more than three months at sea. We faced storms near the equator, sickness below deck, and a death or two before reaching land. Many prayed daily for safe passage, and I believe the Lord heard us. When at last we sighted Table Mountain rising from the mist, we wept. We stepped ashore to a place wild and strange, yet full of promise. That is how I came to the Cape — by God’s hand and by the Company’s design.

What is life like in the Cape?

Life at the Cape is a life of toil, yet not without blessing. The land is rough and vast, with mountains that rise like great altars and winds that speak in strange tongues. We labor to grow gardens, to keep goats and chickens, and to build our homes from stone and thatch. Water is drawn by hand, and firewood must be fetched from afar. The Company governs us with firm rules, and trade is tightly held. Yet the soil bears fruit, and the air is clean. The native people — the Khoekhoe — come and go with their cattle, and there is sometimes trade, sometimes tension. The sun here burns hotter than in Zeeland, and the nights are filled with stars I do not know by name. We rise early, pray often, and give thanks for every safe day. Life here is not what it was — but it is what God has willed for us.

How did you die?

I died as many women do — quietly, and after much giving. My breath left me in the stillness of a winter morning, beneath the thatched roof we built with our own hands. My bones were weary from years of labor, childbirth, and prayer. There was no doctor, only the trembling hands of my eldest and the soft psalms whispered beside my bed. The fever came in the night. It burned me from within. By morning, I was gone. I had not seen Zeeland in many years, but in my final hour, I smelled the sea of home and heard the gulls cry. Whether it was dream or calling, I do not know. The Lord took me gently, as I had long asked in prayer. Now I dwell in the stillness between memory and earth, watching over this land where I lived, and where I left the last of myself.