The following message was presented by Henry Visch in Gravenhurst at the funeral of his sister Baya Van Petegem on Oct. 5.

My wife Kay and I are here also to represent Baya’s family abroad and express their sincere condolences to Debbie and Audrey and their families, her brother Lammert in New Zealand, her sister Hermien in Germany, her sisters Makkie and Ada and her brother-in-law Gerrit van de Poll in the Netherlands and their families, who because of distance or language are not present.

As you may know, most of Baya’s family communicate in different tongues.

Baya was born Jan. 12, 1926 on a farm in a small rural town in the Netherlands. She was christened in true Dutch tradition after her paternal grandmother Bijgje Johanna Visch. She never liked her name. She was the oldest of a family that grew to seven children.

Her father at the time was farming but forgot about farming in the early ’30s, kept his land and started a business in a town nearby. It was a bad time to start a business. It was depression time, unemployment was high and money scarce.

Baya learned early in life to be thrifty, to work hard, to do many different duties and not to give up easily; times were hard.

In 1940, the war broke out and the country was occupied by Nazi Germany. Food became scarce, young men were rounded up for work in Germany, Jews were caught and shipped away. Her father started to farm again. Suddenly cows, pigs and sheep were needed for food and to barter for merchandise, as money had become worthless. Baya had little use for all these newcomers, certainly not for milking a cow. Even a pony was added to the family.

Baya became a messenger for the underground on her bike, taking Jews and young men to places where they could hide. She had an old bike with solid rubber tires that no German soldier wanted, otherwise it would have been taken.

Times became very desperate in the cities.

So Mr. Van Petegem, a pastor in a big city in the Netherlands asked whether his son Theo (Ted) could come and live with us until the end of the war. We had food and he would be willing to help wherever he was needed. So he came. Baya’s father loved him because he was a great salesman. He could sell ice to an Eskimo. He would say: “real good and pure ice, man.” Her mother loved him because he could play the family organ and sing wholeheartedly, the songs of Zion. The girls admired him as he was good-looking, had great stories to tell and he was from the big city, Hilversum.

Baya started to take private English lessons and insisted on taking courses in pharmacy. Later she became a lab assistant in a doctor’s office.

Baya’s mother passed away in 1950 at the birth of a stillborn baby, 44 years old. Suddenly Baya was in charge of a family with her youngest sister about four years old. It was a big challenge for her. Theo visited us a lot, but in 1948 he went to study in Switzerland. Every holiday he had, he came to visit us and you guessed it, a romance developed.

Baya and Theo were engaged in Switzerland close to the Jungfrau mountain.

In 1951, Theo crossed the ocean for Canada to continue his studies in theology

A year later, Baya took the big jump. The pastor of her church asked her, Bijgje, why are you leaving?

She said, “Holland is too overcrowded with people, so I will sacrifice myself and leave.”

Did she realize how big a sacrifice she was making? A different language, different culture, leaving family and friends behind, knowing only two people in the new world, a boyfriend that was studying without funds, and then the Manitoba winter . . .

When in Canada, they asked her, what is your name? Bijgje. What is your real name? Bijgje. How do you spell that? B I J G J E.

She got the message. She never had liked her name either. She would never do that to her children. The name had to change, first Bea and later Baya, much to the chagrin of the airline clerks, as the original name was still on her passport. Same person? She had some explaining to do!

They were married in a small rural Mennonite Church with challenging times ahead.

Ted studied and she worked on menial jobs, housework, office, etc., but she never looked back.

Her husband joined the ministry in the Gaspe, Boucherville, Knowlton.

Ted became ill and was diagnosed with MS. He left the ministry and went back to studies related to criminology.

Baya was a courageous woman, kind, yet determined to support her husband to the very end. She promised him, I will never place you in a home. She had seen his brother who suffered from MS in a home. And she kept her word. Nobody knows the pain both suffered in those final years. She claims that those studies in pharmacy helped her to get the best medicine available for him.

Baya loved her children and grandchildren. If one dares to ask, what are Christopher, Alexandra, Chase or the little ones doing, you better find a chair. Bell telephone became the obvious winner.

She delighted in their accomplishments, whether in school or on the sports field.

She obviously had the smartest and best-looking grandchildren in the world.

After Ted’s death I asked her, why not come back to Winnipeg, closer to us?

She responded, “Henry, I have it so good here, my children and grandchildren are here. I have so many good friends here. Betty, who walks with me in the morning, Peter, who provides so many exciting times. My neighbours, you don’t know the blessings they are to me. My church and the minister, where I worship and meet my God, my service in the prison and church and finally the weather in Winnipeg, you know, I remember.”

I got the message. It was never mentioned again.

Did she sit still in the last 10 years? Not Baya, she visited New Zealand, the Netherlands, Russia, Antarctica, Italy, etc.

Thank you Baya, for what you meant to us. Your courage, your commitment, your love for family and friends, we will always remember.