5. Commerce and Contributions
Upon returning from work one evening
last week, I was immediately struck by an unusual silence. Katrien, my usually
vibrant wife, was unusually quiet and seemed lost in thought. The fact that she
didn’t even remark on the mud caked on my trousers was a clear indication that
something was amiss.
The mystery didn’t last long.
Katrien soon revealed that her afternoon had been disrupted by a visit from
Piet Meersing, a struggling local butcher seeking to expand his clientele among
the Dutch immigrants to the city. Piet had launched his own butcher shop a
month ago, but his business was floundering. In contrast, Butcher De Kort, the
city’s first immigrant butcher, had successfully secured most of the Dutch
clientele, including our family’s.
Katrien had relayed this information
to a crestfallen Piet, who left our home deeply disappointed. This encounter
had left Katrien feeling sympathetic towards Piet, especially given his
financial struggles.
In a bid to lift Katrien’s spirits,
I offered to purchase some pork chops and a smoked sausage from Piet’s shop the
following day. This gesture seemed to do the trick, as Katrien quickly reverted
to her usual self, playfully chiding me about my muddy trousers.
Piet Meersing’s story is a
challenging one. After working for two years at a large export butcher’s shop,
he had ventured out on his own. This decision had forced him to move into a small
home, causing much distress to his wife.
I was privy to these details due to
my role as an elder in our church. Twice per year we have a meeting in which we
review contributions that the families have made to the church. It’s a
necessary yet disheartening task, especially in a young immigrant church where
resources are scarce. It’s disconcerting to see how financial constraints can
lead some to prioritize their worldly needs over their spiritual ones.
In Piet’s case, the consistory had
concluded that he had refrained from contributing for two years due to his
financial difficulties. His struggle was a stark reminder of the challenges
faced by many in our community.
The previous day, Katrien had been
burdened with concerns about Piet, and now those concerns were mine. I entered
the shop to find Piet alone, diligently working on a piece of beef. The shop
was devoid of customers. Driven by compassion, I ordered pork shops, smoked
sausage, steak, sliced ham, and soup bones, despite not having been asked to do
so.
Piet served me promptly, all the
while expressing his grievances about the economic climate in Canada. I found
myself at a loss for words. The bill came to three dollars and seventy cents. I
handed over four one-dollar bills and quickly turned to leave. Piet called
after me, “Hey, Arie, you’ve got change coming!”
In that moment, I mustered the
courage to reply, "Piet, there is Someone who is owed far more from you.
Put those thirty cents in the collection on Sunday.”
I made a hasty exit. From outside,
through the shop window, I saw Piet standing behind the counter, a large
butcher’s knife gripped in his hand like a sword. Yet, the sight was far from
threatening. Piet stood there, mouth agape, staring at his sausages.
Perhaps I had fulfilled my duty
after all. Perhaps my unconventional behaviour would bear fruit.
And perhaps there is an opportunity
for an enterprising Dutchman in Canada to start a wall text business, producing
a single text, a text that should find a place in every immigrant home:
“Handel en Wandel,” pp 23-25, Arie en Katrien in Canada, Guardian: Hamilton, Ontario, 1958; Originally published in Calvinist Contact (Christian Courier); tr. George van Popta, 2024.
