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| Evert Akkerman |
As I grew up in The Netherlands in the 1970s and ’80s, surrounded by water as everyone knows, and likely to die by drowning as the dikes could give way at any moment, it was pretty much unavoidable that my dad, Hans, bought a sailboat. First a small open one, then a larger one that slept four, and then a still larger one as my brother and I grew taller. As the boats got bigger, so did my dad’s dreams. We started sailing on rivers and lakes, then graduated to sea and then to international level.
Around 1980, we spent the summer in Denmark with my uncle Dieter and his family, who had a sailboat as well, and on the way back we entered the German port of Cuxhaven. We had been on the water all day (first from Kiel to Brunsbüttel, then crossing the Elbe) and it was past 11:00 p.m. when we dropped the sails and manoeuvred
The Hvisker: Photo courtesy of the author
Just like we have running communities, cycling communities and quilting communities, there are sailing communities that share information about races, routes and incidents. Well before we arrived in Cuxhaven, rumours had spread among Dutch sailors that the harbour master was a jerk. The Dutch community had started avoiding the port, but it had been a long day, and my dad figured, how bad could it be?
As the dads debriefed on the stern, the harbour master showed up. Instead of some introductory banter like “Good evening, nice people from Holland” or “Hey how ’bout those Leafs,” it was “Sie mussen sich melden!” (“You have to report!”) Taken aback, my dad and uncle explained that they’d be happy to do so, but we had just arrived and figured the office would be closed, so we’d do it first thing in the morning.
Well, that was contrary to policy. The harbour master went into full jerk mode right there. He “only had problems with Dutch sailors all the time,” and if they didn’t immediately present themselves at the office, he’d call the police. To which my dad, who always relished a challenge, replied “Denn machen Sie dass!” (“You go right ahead!”)
The guy stalked off. My dad and uncle weren’t going anywhere and poured themselves another drink. Meanwhile, my mom and aunt figured that, if it were this important, they’d better go to the office and get it over with. They grabbed the passports and left.
Five minutes later the harbour master returned, accompanied by two sturdy police officers in full uniform, with sidearms and batons, and quite likely some light explosives, having been advised by the harbour master of a Dutch invasion, which needed to be repelled immediately, lest all of West Germany become destabilized. The harbour master took up position behind the officers.
This was getting interesting, and I stuck my head out of one of the portholes.
Police officer, to the dads: Good evening. Are you here alone?
Dad: Yes.”
Police officer: Then who’s that?
Dad: My son.
Police officer: Where are your wives?
Dad: At the port office, checking us in.
Police officer: Hmm … The harbour master here just told us you refused to do so.
The dads explained to the officers, frame by frame, how the whole thing had evolved, and if the harbour master had added just a touch of civility and common sense instead of barking orders at midnight, it would all have worked out great. Instead, his excited approach had scared the two moms to such an extent that they hightailed it to the office rather than seeing poor Hans and Dieter end up in the local jail.
This sounded entirely reasonable, and the constabulary mood shifted. They looked at the jerk, who took two steps back and started defending himself, saying he didn’t have an easy job and how everyone afloat was always giving him a hard time.
My dad: And 10 minutes ago you said you only had problems with Dutch sailors!
At this point, the two officers couldn’t keep a straight face. Apparently, they had witnessed other incidents with the man.
“Ach so. Jawohl, der Hafenmeister.” (shrug) “Gute Nacht.”
They left. The moms returned. My brother and I dozed off. When my dad took a chance on Cuxhaven three years later, the guy was gone. Cuxhaven was a safe haven again.
Evert Akkerman is an HR professional based out of Newmarket, Ont., founder of XNL HR, and partner at executive search firm Crossings People. He can be reached at info@xnlhr.com and evert.akkerman@crossings-people.com.
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