History of Sorts

On June 5, 1940, Governor Wouters refused entry to Jewish refugees from Austria who arrived by ship at the port of Curaçao. They were only allowed to disembark after pressure from the Minister for the Colonies. However, as citizens of an enemy nation, they were subsequently detained on Bonaire.

It wasn’t until 1942, after repeated appeals from the Jewish Aid Committee, that their conditions were slightly eased and they were granted limited freedom of movement. At the request of both the committee and the Dutch government-in-exile in London, Surinam agreed to accept Jewish refugees from the Netherlands.

Approximately 200 Dutch Jews arrived in Surinam via Portugal and Jamaica, where they were given a separate neighborhood on the outskirts of Paramaribo.

On Christmas Eve 1942, more than a hundred refugees—mostly Jewish—arrived in Paramaribo, the capital of Suriname, then still a Dutch colony. Among them was Liny Pajgin, who had fled the Nazi-occupied Netherlands with her mother, sisters, and brother-in-law. Like many others, they had left everything behind, making their way to Lisbon via a perilous route through Europe. From there, they boarded the Portuguese ship Nyassa, which would carry them across the Atlantic to safety.

The escape was fraught with danger. Refugees had to cross several heavily guarded borders: from the Netherlands into Belgium, then into occupied France, across to Vichy France, and finally into Spain. Without proper documentation, many were forced to cross illegally, relying on passeurs—human smugglers—who guided them at great personal and financial risk. Liny Pajgin’s family used several such guides along the way.

Once in Spain, the refugees learned that ships were departing from Spanish and Portuguese ports bound for the Caribbean. One of these was the Nyassa, which left Lisbon on December 5, 1942, stopped briefly in Porto, and then sailed for Suriname on December 10. On board were Jews and non-Jews alike, all fleeing persecution in the Netherlands. Life on the ship, though safer, brought its own hardships. The passengers were well fed—an unexpected relief after the ordeals of their escape—but many suffered from seasickness, and the constant threat of German U-boat attacks loomed large.

When the Nyassa finally arrived on Christmas Eve, it could not dock directly in Paramaribo’s port. The ship was too large, so passengers had to disembark onto smaller vessels via a narrow and slippery ladder. Luggage was lost in the water during the transfer. The moment was tense: many recalled the tragic voyage of the MS St. Louis, which had departed Germany in 1939 with over 900 Jewish refugees, only to be denied entry in Cuba and the United States. More than 250 of those passengers were later murdered by the Nazis. Fear gripped the passengers—what if they, too, would be turned away?

Thankfully, history did not repeat itself. The refugees from the Nyassa were allowed to disembark and were taken to the Home for War Refugees in Paramaribo, a former clubhouse converted into an internment center. Men and women were separated, privacy was minimal, and sanitary conditions were poor. The camp was surrounded by barbed wire, and for weeks, the refugees were not allowed to leave, access their money, or communicate with the outside world. Though they were Dutch citizens on Dutch soil, many felt imprisoned.

Gradually, restrictions eased. Refugees who gained access to their funds or secured employment left the camp. Others were helped by the local Jewish Surinamese community, finding shelter in rented apartments or private homes. Some joined the Princess Irene Brigade. The Wolf family, for instance, moved to Curaçao, where the parents worked in a clothing store and their sons resumed school. Other Nyassa refugees ended up in Dutch territories like Jamaica, Cuba, or the Dominican Republic, encountering fellow exiles from the Netherlands.

Some, like Liny Pajgin and her family, eventually acquired the necessary documents to emigrate to the United States, where they remained even after the Netherlands was liberated in 1945. Others returned to Europe in the postwar years, each carrying a unique story of survival, resilience, and displacement.

An interview with Liny Pajgin, recorded on March 30, 1990, provides a firsthand account of her journey. She recalls not only the dramatic escape from Europe but also her life in the Netherlands before the war and the gradual imposition of anti-Jewish laws by the Nazi regime.

Upon arrival in Suriname, most Nyassa refugees were immediately interned and screened by intelligence officers. They were initially housed in the Tehuis voor Oorlogsvluchtelingen (Home for War Refugees), a temporary internment camp established in the former Chinese clubhouse Kong Ngie Tong Sang, operated by the association Vereniging “Humaniteit”, along with several adjacent buildings in the center of Paramaribo.

According to a report by the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC), the Surinamese Government Committee for War Refugees had rented the Kong Ngie Tong Sang clubhouse as early as May 1942, anticipating the arrival of refugees months before the Nyassa docked in December. In the interim, the building served as emergency lodging for shipwrecked passengers and crews.

In preparation for the refugees’ arrival, Governor Johannes Kielstra personally visited the facilities, accompanied by a journalist from the local newspaper De West. The reporter described the camp in surprisingly positive terms:

“The men’s dormitories are housed in the upstairs room of Kong Ngie Tong, and the quarters for women and children are located in the Humaniteit building. Neat camp beds, fresh bedding, etc. Each building includes a small infirmary. Downstairs in the Kong Ngie Tong, a dining hall is set up with neatly arranged tables covered with plastic cloths. Washbasins and shower cabinets with running water are available. There is a nursery, a linen room, kitchen, and laundry—all clean.”

The reporter expressed admiration for the conditions, remarking that those who would be housed there were likely to feel well cared for.

Upon arrival, male and female refugees were separated and accommodated in large dormitories furnished with army cots. A nursery, overseen by fellow refugee Margot Majerczyk, was provided for children. Despite the clean and orderly appearance of the facilities, the camp operated under strict regulations.

During the first weeks, refugees were not permitted to leave the premises, which, to their dismay, were surrounded by barbed wire. All adults underwent extensive interviews conducted by intelligence services—lengthier still for those of German origin, compared to their Dutch-born counterparts. Until cleared, they remained under constant supervision, entirely cut off from the outside world.

One of the most pressing difficulties was financial: refugees were denied access to their personal funds and had to survive on a meager allowance of twelve guilders per month. While meals were prepared centrally in the camp, it remains unclear whether the refugees were charged for this service.

After approximately one year, many of the Nyassa refugees had found housing elsewhere in Paramaribo. Those who remained were relocated to newly constructed houses at the intersection of Weidestraat and Rust-en-Vredestraat (near Burenstraat). At this point, all internment restrictions were finally lifted.

sources

https://www.verzetsmuseum.org/nl/kennisbank/vluchtelingen

https://www.yadvashem.org/holocaust/this-month/february/1944.html

https://www.oorlogsbronnen.nl/artikel/joodse-vluchtelingen-vinden-veiligheid-suriname

https://www.verzetsmuseum.org/en/kennisbank/jewish-refugees-2

https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/0031322X.2023.2304522#abstract

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