Although related, both from Germany and having fled to Africa at around the same time it seems that Walter only became a fixture in Ellen’s life as she passed through Bulawayo on the train in 1939. She was a meek teen then – with very little English – travelling solo to Northern Rhodesia. By then, Walter and his family were already settled in Bulawayo, Southern Rhodesia – having been beneficiary of a visa sponsored or applied for by another member of this sprawling family. This party – never fully identified – obtained papers for Fritz Richard and Helmut (Ellen’s side of the family) as well. Ellen’s mother never made it out of Germany..
According to her Memories, Walter rubbed her up the wrong way right away – and continued in the same vein for most of the rest of her life.
Yet Walter was around the Chudy household constantly – from the early 50’s on = always dragging round interesting people to visit. It could be integrant hitchhikers he had given a ride to out in the bush, or at the other end of the scale, top flight achievers from all fields – many of whom became firm friends in Ellen’s circle.. Walter himself was a Walter Mitty character, always an intellectual contrarian. He undertook off-beat business ventures – like establishing and running a remote bush cyanite mine.
Socially he got around and was always ‘good value for money’. Early on he had befriended war photographer Robert Capa, visiting him in his apartment in Paris. Walter later related details he learned about the famous Capa Spanish Civil war Falling Soldier photo years before the image became controversial, when such details were more widely circulated.
He personally rubbed shoulders – on the one hand with white supremacist politicians during the Smith years – and black independence fighters on the other. He was always undertaking ‘quiet solo behind the scenes diplomacy’. – always hush hush but was rarely taken as seriously by his regular friends – as everyone knew he would have preferred. Although, given his unconventional political theories and approach to the politics of the day, he might have impressed some of the parties he interfaced with – and maybe encouraged new initiatives. It is alleged that his sympathies at the time were more aligned to ZAPU than ZANU, which prevailed after independence.
After Ellen’s death he bragged that on one occasion during the war period, he asked Ellen and her daughter to leave their home for a day while he arranged a secret meeting between black nationalist leaders and members of the Smith Regime. He said that ‘Ellen was an incredibly courageous woman. “She never flinched”, he said. At the time she joked that she ever did anything courageous ‘by going out shopping and having tea in a cafe for a few hours’. She said she found it hard to believe that anyone turned up on the day – or that it was of any consequence if they did. A government could arrange secret venues of higher quality if it wanted to. But we will never know.
This ‘big deal stuff’ apart – Ellen was highly offended by some of his attitudes and relationships with women. These were people she got to know well after he ‘let them down’ in one way or another.. According to Ellen she regretted having to clean up lives after he had undermined them. It is now unclear what precise damage he wrought – but she never forgave him – most notably in the case of his estranged second wife Edna. Edna committed suicide in Israel the day before Ellen arrived for long awaited visit. A pages from letters from Edna have been found. – they do not explain Ellen’s assertions – nor Edna’s suicide shortly after, but they are included below..
EDNA LETTERS
The last in anticipation of Ellen’s visit – AI text collation below
3 Bagelet Street, Jerusalem – 10 February 1968
My dearest Ellenchen—
“Nun endlich hat sich die liebe Edna aufgerafft!” you may say. Yes, I received your letter almost three months ago; I meant to reply immediately, and look what happened. Why? Let me try to explain.
First, I cannot bring myself to acknowledge that David is gone. I know it, accept it—but cannot internalise it. Not having seen either of you for nearly eight years means nothing tangible was ruptured; daily life continued unchanged and my stubborn refusal clings to that.
Second, I’m unhappy that your tragedy struck just as—perhaps for the first time in my life—I reached an inexplicable inner harmony. Out of nowhere, I also began writing: on 1 Jan 1967 I unzipped the long-dormant typewriter (a present from my father-in-law), inserted paper in a panic, and wrote for three days and nights without stopping. I’ve scarcely thought of anything else since. God knows what will come of it, but it is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me. Nun, was sagst Du dazu?
Walter will be pleased; he urged me for years. It was like a long-overdue pregnancy that finally germinated in the dark.
Dorys volunteered during the war: she phoned—from Tel Aviv, not London!—arriving the very last day and spending a month on a kibbutz. I had a grand-stand view of the whole fight from a Talbieh flat—rather spectacular for one who slogged through the War of Liberation.
You asked if I live near Bezalel. Indeed: my tiny flatlet is just behind the school, owned by a widow who once taught there. The world is small! You must come again. Share my bed (wider than a single, not quite a double) and stay indefinitely—you know I mean it.
No one believed I’d return to Israel, least of all me, but I’m here to stay. Tel-Aviv grows ghastlier; Jerusalem grips me with an inexplicable love—so come soon.
A Christmas card arrived from Barbara—good luck for that unfortunate girl at last! She forgot her address; please nag her for (a) the address and (b) a proper letter with photos. Send my love to her, to Babuczka and husband.
Regards to the Fiorinis (young Fiorini never called—it’s a pity) and LOVE to the Sineks—Fred, kindness incarnate, always looked me up in London. Greetings as well to the Rendall-Green’s, Tony Beck & family (a baby—amazing!) and anyone else who remembers me.
Ellenchen, I still lack photos of Philip or little Naomi, now surely a big girl. If any exist, please send one.
Could Walter rummage among his things for my old Hebrew school essays—two exercise copy-books? And, for my cultural nourishment, please bring: “Indaba, My Children” by Credo Vusa-mazulu Mutwa (Blue Cross Books, Johannesburg) – UNABRIDGED edition. It’s said to be incredible but available only in South Africa; perhaps Walter can find it.
Concerning your deep anguish: people shrink from discussing death. My death-wish has been pronounced; after years in Indonesia I view death as desirable, not dreadful. Even Freud conceded late in life that the death-wish need not stem solely from destructive urges. Whatever metaphysics we assign, the burden of grief lies with survivors; consolation must grow from within and in its own time. Your inner spiritual sources will fortify you eventually. I know I cannot ease your grief by letter—but in person, talking together, I might help a little. Won’t you come, my Ellenchen?
All my love,
Edna
(post-script in blue ink: “Come soon!”)
Jerusalem, 4 March 1970
Ellenchen, you are a dream –
As Uncle Milo once said (the day we got up at 5 a.m. to go for a walk in the Tyńaga woods), “Na ja, wenn es sich um Vergnügen handelt, da stehen sogar die Faulen auf.” In other words: I am replying immediately.
I suppose you are beginning to see that I have all the trappings of a true (white) magician: no sooner do I make a wish than—presto—it’s granted. Need I say how overjoyed I am?
Yet, before hopeless enthusiasm gets the upper hand, a word of prudence: if you plan a Greek-island cruise, March–April is rather early. I was there four years ago in August; while the mainland baked, evenings on the islands required sweaters, and the sea can be stormy in spring. Ask your agent, but May–June is probably ideal. And do not miss Santorini (Thera) in the Cyclades—the most heavenly of islands.
If, on the other hand, you’ve reached the pitch where you must leave at once or burst—don’t burst, just come, aber sofort, mein Ellenchen!
Clothing: take an old leather coat, a few sweaters, cottons, sandals and a bathing suit. Don’t over-pack; one usually schlumps about in a single favourite outfit all season. Besides, you’re asking for the authentic “dull-but-functional Geneva-style” look.
Louise, my neighbour and landlady, is dying to meet you. An avid gardener, she began a seed-list the moment I mentioned you were training moss and crocuses in Africa—only if it’s no trouble. Alas, I’ve mislaid her list, so Sapristi! she must compile it again (see end!).
Dr Walterchen will surely wish to send me a present. Please tell him I’d love Charles of the Ritz – “Reverescence”, a black-bottled scent perfect for ladies of my vintage. If he is ultra-generous, two bottles would preserve me for ages. (Barbours still stock it, I think.)
And don’t forget to bring some of Philip’s poetry.
Accommodation: first, simply arrive—we’ll talk non-stop for a fortnight, then pick lodgings to revive your spirits. My favourite is St Andrew’s Hospice, run by Rev. & Mrs Scott next to the British Consulate, overlooking Mount Zion, the Mount of Olives and Abu Tor. Rev. Scott (delightfully muddled on the phone) quoted IL 38 B&B—about 30/- a day. There are others, but come be embraced first. Du lieber Gott, we haven’t seen each other in over ten years!
Aber schnell!
Love,
Edna
Walter’s sister Wilma in the book ‘Wilma ‘s Story’ (ISBN 978-194517569-5), edited by Doris Hollander and her husband Martin Page, contains a number of interesting narratives relating to Walter’s and his parents’ lives .
Walter started out ‘as a great Zionist’ . He went to Palestine/Israel in 1947 after completing his apprenticeship. He joined a kibbutz, but that did not work out for him, so he gave them his tools, clothing and left.. When he arrived in Jerusalem his young wife Sahava killed in the bombing of Ben Yehuda Street, She was only 26 years old. “A puppy lay at her feet”.
One story goes that After the death of his wife he approached a Rabbi to bury his wife, but was told that she was ‘not a proper Jew’. Whether or not that is accurate or compelling – or whether it was down to his natural contrarianism, Walter appeared to have soured of the entire Zionist dream at that early stage of his life.
The Hollanders and the Rothschilds (Ellen Chudy’s natal family) always referred to each other as ‘cousins’ but in fact Walter and his sisters Wilma and Doris are ‘half first cousins‘. They share one grand-parent and their mothers are sister and niece.
Rothschild Hollander Frank Genecology Tree
They in turn were related to Anne Frank. Walter was 2nd cousins once removed (Walter’s grandfather and Anne’s grandfather Abraham are first cousins). The Hollander’s stayed with the Frank family on their way out of Germany – “they accompanied us to Ijmuiden harbor, where we went onto the ship for Cape Town, port of entry for Africa’. This visit is documented in the Frank family archives. But before that they were close. Wilma says that she and Anne played together in Amsterdam when they visited – or during school holidays when they all went to the seaside in Zandvoort. She also says “they were a family like ours. Strict upbringing and manners and politeness. I had to make “Knicks” (curtsey) when greeting, and my brother Walter had to bow, shake hands and obey. Table manners were strictly drilled into us by our nanny” and also ” I do wish to mention that Anne was a bright and vivacious playmate, she was so intelligent, a little leader.”
This Walter was a peer and should not be confused with a different Walter Hollander, who is cited as Anne Frank’s ‘favorite uncle’.
3 photos of Hollander kids on the way to Africa from the Anne Frank archive
Walter spent the latter part of his life married to Lynette Almeida in Portugal. His last years till his death at 98 he could be found daily in the university library in Faro = working on what he said was a new way of structuring human history. “Historians have got history completely wrong till now – History is sequential”, he declared. When I challenged him saying “everybody knows that” I was told that I was missing the point. Some of his notes may have been saved – so there might be something ‘to the point’ somewhere, but otherwise we might never know. He did however say that Yuval Noah Harari was saying much of what he wanted to say on the matter – we can rest easier – not all is lost.
