From bombing raids to Fighting Aids
Wilfried Wieners
This is one of a pair of stories. Bill Lofthouse and Wilfred Wieners belong to a fast-dwindling group of people who can remember the Second World War. Bill was a sailor on the British side, and Wilfried was born in Germany during a bombing raid. Historical enemies, they have now become firm friends. Read their remarkable stories.
Introduction by Pastor Andy
Notice the 4 ,000 pound HC bomb (‘cookie’) at the back and the forty 30 pound incendiaries at the front.
‘The Usual’ bombing load was designed with a particular kind of destruction in mind. The ‘cookie’ could destroy an entire large building or street. The high explosives were intended to rupture water mains and blow off roofs, doors, and windows. All these openings created air flow to feed the fires started by the incendiaries that followed.
It was a devastatingly effective method which reached its macabre apotheosis at Dresden in 1945. The ethics of the Dresden bombing remains a troubling issue to this day.
Towards sunset, 479 planes took off into the dusk sky. They assembled over Beachy Head and then turned towards Germany. Their target this night was Düsseldorf. First came the Mosquitoes that dropped markers over the city. Then came the bombers. They dropped 700 tons of bombs on Düsseldorf, causing more destruction than had ever been achieved in the war up to that time.
On the afternoon of 10 September 1942, at aerodromes all over south-east England, ground crew were loading and preparing over 479 aircraft for that night’s bombing raids. The Mixed Load, (code named ‘The Usual’), consisted of a 4,000lb HC bomb (‘cookie’) and up to forty 30lb incendiaries. Here we can see Armourers of No. 207 Squadron RAF at Syerston, Nottinghamshire loading an Avro Lancaster B Mark I with the ‘The Usual.’
At the time, Bomber Command lacked the necessary navigational and bombing technical ability, and the accuracy of the bombings during night attacks was abysmal. Consequently, bombs were usually scattered over a large area, causing enormous ‘collateral damage.’
Here we see a vertical aerial photograph taken over the centre of Düsseldorf at 11 pm on 10 September 1942, at the height of the raid, the incendiaries almost completely obscuring the city.
At precisely this hour, in a hospital somewhere below, Kitty Wieners was in labour.
During that night, Wilfried Wieners was born.
And so began a remarkable life and a remarkable story. I felt that it was really worth telling, especially as an example of how a person can rise above his background, and of the healing and purpose that God can bring to someone’s life. So I went to see Wilfried, now 77, at his home in Westville, South Africa, and he told me his story. His German background is still very strong in his speech so I have reshaped some of it. For the rest, it is as he told it to me.
Wilfried Wieners
- My Story
- Germany
Part 1
I was born in Düsseldorf on 10 September 1942 during a bombing raid.
While my mother was in labour, the city was in flames, and by morning was reduced to piles of rubble. Many fires were still burning at 11 a.m. My mother lay in hospital wondering what she would do now that she had a baby to look after.
The policy of Adolf Hitler at that time was to send women, children, and people incapable of fighting into the eastern side of Germany, which at that time was not being attacked. At that time the bombing basically stopped at the Rhine.
My father suffered from club feet, and as a result was rejected from army service. So he was also sent east with my mother and me. My father’s mother, "Loricker Oma " as I called her, came with us. My father was a boilermaker by trade, but during the war was involved in the manufacture of war materials in East Germany.
We were sent to a village named Gehren, just south of Erfurt where Martin Luther went to university in 1502, and within a few kilometres of Wartburg Castle where Luther was hidden for his own safety from May 1521 to March 1522, under the name of Junker Jörg.
The village was very pretty, and the surrounding countryside very beautiful - changing with the seasons.
But the locals were not friendly. I don't know if it was resentment that outsiders had been "dumped" on them, or old-fashioned Prussian work ethic where you get nothing for nothing, but they did not welcome us, and gave us no food. So we were constantly hungry.
My Granny would take some of our possessions and try to sell them on farms in the neighbourhood. I often sat at the edge of the forest waiting for her to come back, hoping she might bring some food. But many times she returned empty-handed, and we would go hungry. I would fall asleep hugging my big teddy bear and crying, because I was starving. I still have that teddy today 75 years later.
My other granny (my mother’s mother), who had remained in Düsseldorf, was sometimes able to send a package of old bread crusts. It was a red-letter day when the parcel arrived, because I knew that the soup would have a little more substance to it than usual that night.
My mother became friendly with the farmer and his wife, and I was allowed to play in the farmhouse. I used to sit under the farmer’s table during dinner time, and he would occasionally drop crusts of bread and bits of food on to the floor for me. Only years later did I discover the story in Luke 16 about Lazarus who longed to eat what fell from the rich man’s table.
In summer, the farmer employed my mother on his farm to help with the harvest. Her wages for a whole day’s work was one loaf of bread. I got half a loaf for sitting on the back of the horse and leading it around the field. I was three years old. When we did have a loaf of bread, my mother tended to cut the slices very thick, but I liked to have mine cut thin so that I got more pieces. In my childish mind this meant that I was getting more food.
The snows in winter were extremely heavy. I can remember walking down the road where the snow had been shovelled away, and I was unable to see over the top of it. Now that it was getting so cold, we hoped that my granny would manage to sell some possessions in the desperate hope that we could buy some coal, so that we could keep at least a little warm. Although we were so cold, I still remember how beautiful it was, and I was in a strange way happy. When you’re a child that’s all you know.
My parents had brought a complete household of possessions from West Germany. Five years later in 1948 we left with just a few suitcases because my granny had sold everything to keep us alive.
One day a mounted policeman was riding along the road when his horse suddenly collapsed and died. Within 10 minutes the local woman had come with knives, and stripped every ounce of meat off the carcass. That’s how hungry people were.
By the last year of the war, the Americans had extended the bombing raids right across to the east part of Germany. I can remember hearing hundreds of bombers flying over above the clouds. They destroyed almost every city and some villages as well. I may even have heard the bombers heading for Dresden.
When the sirens sounded to warn us of an air raid, it would frighten a child like me. We were locked up in a bunker at night with no lights and listening to hundreds of bombers flying over. They have a different sound to normal aeroplanes and I came to dread it. Suddenly we would hear the detonation of bombs around us. When the attack was over we were allowed to go out and see if our house was still standing. Nothing ever happened to us, and I thank the LORD for it, but many houses were destroyed. This is part of the trauma I grew up with. We did not know Jesus. I am sure my mother prayed since she was Catholic and believed in God, but I was not aware of it.
Seventy years later, sitting in South Africa under lock-down because of the corona virus, the old feelings of those war-time lock-downs start coming back - memories of the terrible last days of WW2, and of my fear-ridden childhood.
I only really overcame the terror of the war years in 1990. I was working in Pinetown, and every time an ambulance passed our offices with the siren blaring, I would start to shake. I also found that I couldn't get over the grudge I held against Hitler and his henchmen, because as a teenager and young man, certain people would swear at me because I was German. Then in the early 1990, I enquired of the Lord about my condition. He led me to confess the sins of my fathers, even though it all happened when I was still too small to be responsible. After I confessed, I was set free and the sirens and the grudges affected me no more. I can truly say that the peace of Christ rules in my heart.
Then, in 1945, the Russians came - thousands upon thousands of them. Unlike the Americans and the British, the Russians brought no food or supplies with them. They simply plundered and pillaged as they went. Now we were in real trouble. My family and I would go out into the woods at 3 o’clock in the morning and collect mushrooms and blueberries. Blueberries became our staple diet. We also learnt that there were barks of certain trees that we could boil to make a kind of soup with a little sustenance in it. The amazing thing is that, in spite of the hunger and cold, neither my mother nor I can ever remember any of us getting sick.
By this time, of course, my father was out of work – the German factories were completely destroyed. But he was a good musician, and tried to earn something by singing and playing for the Russian troops. Unfortunately, the troops had no money, so they paid him in vodka. This, of course, was of no use to the family, and turned my father from a heavy drinker into an outright drunkard. From that time onwards, if there was any money in the house, he would take it and waste it on drink.
After the war, there were food lines where we would stand for hours with our rationing slips in our hands and hope that the food did not run out before we got to the front of the queue.
Now we were trapped by the new divisions which the allies had made in Germany. Gehren now fell under Russian rule in what was now called East Germany.
We stayed in East Germany for another three years. In 1947, my mother, leaving her husband behind, took me back to Düsseldorf for a few weeks to visit her mother. We hitched a ride on the horse cart from our village to the border. At that time the border was not too heavily guarded, although we still had to walk through the forests to get through. Then, in 1948, my mother decided we could not survive any longer in East Germany and said, “I have had enough,” So she determined that we would escape. By this time the borders were far more strictly guarded, and people were shot for trying to cross over. But we learnt of a route through the forests, up a steep hill and down through mud and marshland. They were told that if we did the crossing at seven in the morning there was a good chance that the guards would be having breakfast and that we would get through. It was pouring with rain, and at one point my mother slipped and nearly fell down a steep bank, but I managed to grab her hand and stop her from falling. But we got through to West Germany. I was six years old.
We landed up in the American sector, where we were put into a refugee camp for a few days. Then we were given some money and train tickets to take us to Düsseldorf. The train was made up of empty goods vans.
The people were so tightly packed that they could only stand like sardines for hour after hour. All of the luggage was packed into one corner, and, because I was a child, I was allowed to sit on top of the luggage. Every few hours, the train would stop so that people could get out and relieve themselves as best they could. The journey took many days, because the railways were so destroyed that the train had to take long detours, and there were many delays.
By the end of the war RAF estimated that 64% of Düsseldorf had been flattened. When my family arrived at the bombed-out station, we discovered that the bridges across the Rhine had been destroyed.
We crossed the river on this pontoon bridge.
In winter the river was totally frozen over and we were able to walk across.
My family moved in with my other Granny (my mother’s mother) whose flat in the Kaiser's building had fortunately been spared. Her flat was on the 4th floor. The Arrow shows the window I used to sit at and watch the swallows swirling about making their peculiar screech. It was also the window where my father used to throw out his food if he was drunk and didn't like it. My aunt and uncle were also living there, so now there were three families sharing two rooms. My family lived in the kitchen.
We had running cold water, no bath. In the kitchen was an old stove that served for cooking, heating and warming up the bath water once a week. Then we all had to bath in a bathtub that otherwise was stored on top of a cupboard.
There were no playgrounds in those days but we had a wonderful time playing hide-and-seek in the ruins of the bombed-out buildings across the road. We didn’t complain – it was all we knew. It must been very dangerous, but it was exciting and we enjoyed it thoroughly.
My mother managed to secure a job in a department store selling quality clothing, so at last I could go to sleep without feeling hungry. But this did not mean that our problems were over, because my father’s drinking became worse and worse. He often managed to get his hands on my mother’s money and wasted it on drink. When he was drunk he would throw his food out of the window if he didn’t like it. Sometimes he locked us out of the house, and we had to sleep in the street all night. Years later, after my father’s death, I found some papers that told me how much my father had earned, and I was shocked to realise how much he had wasted on himself while his family had nothing.
I clearly remember the day when I was six years old that I took a life-changing decision. I decided that I would not be like my father – particularly on the matter of alcohol and the abuse of his family. It is a decision I have kept for 70 years. These days, when I am teaching high school learners about HIV and AIDS I use my six-year-old decision to tell young people that they are capable of making decisions and sticking to them, and I tell them that the choice is theirs.
First day of Kindergaten
St Antonius Catholic Church where I took my first communion. The fountain in the foreground was our swimming pool in summer.
It was my job to walk 20 minutes to the shops and bring back the heavy shopping bags, because there was no money for me to take the tram. By the time I got back my hands were red and aching.
My father worked for a company that provided housing for the workers, so at about this time we were able to move into our own flat in 34 Herebach Strasse.
My mother eventually lived there for 50 years.
I went to High School when I was 10. That really saved me. One of my teachers, Frau Bauman, (centre) took a particular interest in me, because she knew my background. She made a great difference to my life and I always achieved highly in her class.
Another teacher noticed that I was quite athletic, and so enrolled me in the gymnastics class. I also joined the gymnastics club and became extremely fit, and a good gymnast.
And I developed quite an impressive physique, if I say so myself!
Once my mother discovered my gymnastic ability, she took to leaving an upstairs window open when we went out, and so, if my father locked us out, I was able to climb up the back of the building and let us in. The gymnastics opened up all sorts of healthy activities and friendships to me, and did a lot to normalise my life.
My mother used to work at the Kaufhof (opposite), and sometimes I would come to collect goodies from her and run 20 minutes to half an hour to drop them off at home. Prostitutes also stood in the streets around Kaukhof. I was good-looking young man, you know, and they used to whistle at me. That’s where I learned to run! Only much later I discovered I was following the example of Joseph in the Bible, when he ran away from Potiphar’s wife.
Meanwhile, the Witzman family that we had stayed with back in East Germany were suffering under Russian rule. So my mother, despite our own struggles, sent parcels of food to them to show her gratitude for their kindness during the war. I wondered if they ever felt guilty when the gifts came, because they had in fact done very little for us. But they never apologised.
Because of encouragement from the art teacher at school, I also discovered that I enjoyed art, and did very well in that subject. Wieners means “from Austria.” Perhaps that is why I was attracted to the Viennese way of life.
Once my granny discovered that, she took me there twice. Here are two of the drawings I did there.
When I was 16 I began to work. My first job was setting up pins in the nine-pin bowling alley. Nothing was automated in those days and it was quite dangerous, because we simply sat on the ledge above the pins and they would fly all over the place while we protected our heads as best we could. I had to walk three quarters of an hour each way to get there, and earned ten duitse marks a night. But I never spent any of it on myself – it all went to my mother to keep us fed and clothed. Now and again, the owners of the bowling alley would give me a bar of chocolate, and I would keep it in my cupboard and make it last for six months.
One day I was walking along the waterfront near to the Rhienufer. The Rhine at that time was very swollen and strong-running. Then I heard someone screaming. I looked, and saw a woman in the water hanging on to one of those gang planks on one of the pontoons you can see in the picture. I looked around, but saw no one offering to help, so I felt that I had to do something. So I got down and managed to save her. I dragged her up the stairs and to the hospital.
I had saved her life.
The experience made such a deep impression on me that even then, not yet a Christian, I developed a deep desire to save people. Only later I learnt of Jesus words, “I will make you fishers of men.”
Afterwards, I wanted to contact the woman to see how she was doing, but the hospital advised me not to. They said that quite often people use incidents like that to extort money from you, claiming that you had pushed them into the water. So I never saw her again.
Then I found a second-hand bicycle and I saved up 50% of the cost and then asked my granny for the remaining money. (That's how I treated my children later in life - first they had to save and then I would supply what was missing.) They agreed, and for the first time in my life I owned something of value. It transformed my life.
I was known as “Smiling Wieners” – because I always had a smile on my face. It was really cover-up for the fact that I was a very angry young man. But it helped me to make friends. One of my friends was called Rolf (here sitting on the beach in Holland.) He and I were very closely matched in gymnastics– one day he would win, the next day I would. It was a lot of fun.
Rolf’s father took me in as a second son. He would say, “Hey, Wilfried, do you want something to eat?” And I loved him for it, because I was always hungry. By this time, my relationship with my own father had deteriorated to such an extent that if I saw him coming down the street, I would cross over to the other side to avoid him. So being with Rolf’s father was a wonderful experience for me. I observed with wonder all sorts of aspects to Rolf’s relationship with his father. If Rolf didn’t know how to do something, his father would show him; if he didn’t understand something, his father would explain it to him. My father never taught me anything or gave me anything in my whole life. Rolf’s father was a rich man and did many things for me – like taking me on holiday to Holland – things I had never known before.
Among other things it enabled me to widen my social life, and I made a number of friends. These are friends with whom I rode to Holland a number of times – 300 km each way. Of course that is very flat country-side. I am on the right. The blond boy on the left was my best friend, Volker. More about him later.
If it hadn’t been for people like him and Vrau Bauman, I don’t know where my great anger would have taken me in life.
And then there was Volker. He was one of what was known as the “Hitler Children.” This does not mean he served in the Hitler Youth movement – he was much too young for that. It meant that he had been especially bred to be pure Aryan. His mother was the classic blonde-haired, blue-eyed version of the super race, and his father had been specifically chosen because he was a classic Arian. They had intercourse simply to produce a super-child, and never saw each other again. So Volker never knew his father.
But Volker grew up tall, blonde, blue-eyed and very handsome. In the picture, Volker is third from the right. Note how tall, blonde, and good-looking he is.
Because Volker had no father, and his mother had to work, he was brought up by his grandparents. Unfortunately, his grandfather was an alcoholic, so I felt that we had quite a lot in common. My mother and his grandmother also formed a bond because of their common problem.
Volker became one of my best friends, and we did a lot together. In fact, he was instrumental in bringing me to South Africa. By the age of 20, he was already engaged to be married. (Pictured here with his fiancée. Note again how tall and good-looking he is.)
At 20 he decided that he was not going to stay in Germany, but was going to try his luck in South Africa. So, once he had finished his apprenticeship, he left his fiancée behind and emigrated to South Africa. Before he left he said, “Wilfred, if I like it I’ll write to you.” Some months later he wrote to tell me to come and to bring his fiancée with me. Within a short period of time I did exactly that.
I have been in South Africa ever since.
- South Africa
Part 2
In the early days, I obviously spent a lot of time with Volker, who by that time had begun to smoke and drink heavily.
Then I met Gineke, an immigrant from Holland. On one occasion, when the two couples were together, Volker tried to get me to buy him a pack of cigarettes and badgered me to smoke one. Gineke, who had a habit of speaking her mind, scolded him rather sharply. I had already realised that Volker had a different worldview from me, and that we were drifting apart, but the incident brought our friendship to an end, and, when Gineke and I got married, Volker was not at the wedding. As far as I know he became a severe alcoholic.
It was a happy day when Gineke and I got married - 26 January 1966 – 54 years ago.
By contrast, I have kept in touch with Rolf all these years. He still lives in Germany, but we visit each other from time to time.
Conversion and early days.
I was aware of a great gap in my life and I began searching for ways to fill it. Although I was born a Roman Catholic and went to church every Sunday in my youth it was only a form of religion. I did not know God. I tried Eastern religions, practising yoga and a few other things, but they did not satisfy at all.
Gineke's father had died when she was two-and-a-half years old. Then her mother remarried, and her stepfather abused her until she was fifteen. After that, she had no desire to live, and wanted to commit suicide. She had looked for solutions in various ways, including Eastern religions, but nothing had helped. Then one night when she was fifteen, the Lord came to her. She was lying on her bed and suddenly the whole room was filled with light. She got up to look out of the window. There was a school across the road, and she thought someone must have left their car in the parking lot with its lights on. But there was nothing, yet the whole room had lit up. Then she realized that the Lord had visited her. From that moment on, she had such a peace that she started telling people about this wonderful God who had helped her when no one else could. And, even though she wasn’t born again, she started praying for other young people who were experiencing problems.
By this time we were living in Randburg, and I was working in a drawing office. Then God sent a young man my way – a man who worked with me. He gave me a business card and said, “If you have a problem, even at two o’clock in the morning, just call these people and they will come and help you.”
I thought, “No way, I don't believe that." And, because I was a good German, I wouldn't have done that sort of thing anyway! But it stuck in my mind and I thought, “I wonder what these people are like? They are called ‘missionaries.’ What are they?”
So I said, to Gineke “Let’s invite them to come to our house.”
And so we met Herbert and Elisabeth Syre. They came on 9th October 1969. As they were walking up to the front door, I said to Gineke, “He’s German.” As soon as they came in the door, it was obvious that he was. In fact, he was from Cologne - only 45 km away from Düsseldorf. And Gineke very quickly discovered that Elizabeth was Dutch, and had been born and brought up close to Gineke’s home town. So we had a lot in common.
While still in Germany, Herbert had become a Christian.
He and Elisabeth told us about the claims of Christ. They said that God loved us, and that he had a wonderful plan for our lives. They said that we are all sinful and separated from God by our sinfulness, and that Jesus is the only provision for man’s sin to be dealt with. They quoted lots of Bible verses like John 3:16 - ‘For God so loved the world…’ and Rom 3:23 - ‘For all have sinned…’ and John 14:6 - ‘I am the way …’
They went on and on.
And I said, “Okay, I know all of this from the Catholic Church. Now what do I have to do?’
And he said, “You need to open your life to Jesus, and pray that he will come into your life.”
He asked us to pray with him, but Gineke and I were too proud.
It was late by the time they left, and the sky was clear. I prayed silently: “If what they have shared with us is true, then please let it rain.”
After midnight we could not sleep. Then we got out of bed and prayed. We confessed the sin of going our own way instead of God’s. We invited Jesus into our lives, and asked Him to become Lord of our lives.
Early in the morning I woke up and there was a rumbling in the distance. The noise came closer very quickly, and we had the first thunderstorm of the season, a very heavy one. This was unusual, because thunderstorms usually come in the afternoon on the Highveld. The municipality was busy tarring our road and the drains were blocked with sand. All the rainwater bypassed the drains and flooded into our garage and into the neighbour’s swimming pool. I was standing in the rain trying to support our retaining wall because it looked as if the floods were going to push it down. Later when I went into the garage to sweep it, cleansing floods of joy came into my soul and I knew that something had happened. I knew that there was a God who cared about me, and that there was somebody besides my wife that was interested in me.
And so Gineke and I became spiritual twins! It was 10 October 1969 - Kruger Day in South Africa.
For Gineke. coming to Christ was a very healing experience. She realised that the Lord had saved her twice - once from physical death by suicide when she was fifteen, and once from spiritual death in 1969.
As I said earlier, I used a smiling face cover a lot of anger. Also, my self-esteem had been affected. My father’s behaviour down the years had, obviously, had a deep effect on me. But in the days following my conversion, a deep change began to take place within me. I had to catch a bus and a train to get to work, which took quite a long time. I started to use that time to read my Bible, and I began to realise for the first time that I was a child of God – that I have a heavenly Father who loved me and cared about me. It is hard to describe how precious this was to me after my experiences with my earthly father. The gap left in my heart by my human father has been more than compensated by the fact that I have a Heavenly Father who has been with me even before I was born. He has taught me how to be a father myself, to communicate with my wife, and to bring up my children on biblical principles. He truly is gracious and merciful, abounding in loving-kindness, close to the broken-hearted, and he raises up all who are bowed down. (Psalm 145.)
Sometime after I became a Christian, I forgave my father for all of his failings. But we were never actually reconciled. I simply prayed, when my father died, that the Lord would take him to be in heaven. But I do not know if he ever made a commitment to the Lord.
We had a lot of fun with Herbert and Elisabeth. He was a pleasant joyful man. They worked in the coloured community of Bosmont, in Johannesburg. One of Herbert’s converts wanted to get baptized, but Herbert only had a small house and a kiddie’s swimming pool. He put the man into the pool but his nose was still sticking out. So Herbert took some water and poured it over the nose!
He called himself a Bapticostal. He had been filled with the Holy Spirit one night while he was sleeping, and woke up speaking in tongues. They had been pastoring a Baptist Church, but when the church heard that he had been filled with the Holy Spirit, they told them to leave. So now they lived by trusting the Lord to provide for them financially.
Herbert tried to teach me the principles of tithing. I was slow in learning. I wondered why I should share my hard-earned money with the Lord who owned everything already. I only started to give according to God’s standards later in my Christian walk.
He challenged me to get baptized by immersion as Jesus had done. But I had been baptised (by sprinkling) as a baby in the Catholic Church, and felt I had no choice in the matter. Gineke had been baptised twice by sprinkling - once as a baby in the Reformed Church, and a second time as an adult in the Catholic Church, when she married me. She hoped she would get it right the third time! We studied the Bible and prayed, and after a while the Lord convicted us that we should follow His example. A few months later we got baptized together. It was February 1970, and the weather had turned unusually cold. Herbert had hoped that we would come out of the water filled with the Holy Spirit and speaking in tongues, but all we did was to come out shivering. It was not the right time yet.
I seriously wondered whether we had done the right thing in becoming Christians and in getting baptised. As non-Christians we had done very well materially. We had two lovely children, and many blessings like a house and a car. But as new Christians we immediately encountered lots of challenges. The car broke down, and the fridge and washing machine gave up the ghost. Straight after our baptism, Gineke, who was three months pregnant, miscarried. I believe it was a son. Gineke lost another two babies in the following years. Herbert was there to counsel us and told us that because there was no sin in their lives yet, the babies were already in the presence of the Lord, praising and worshipping him face to face. This greatly reassured us.
Eventually we had another boy and a girl. We now have 4 children and ten grandchildren.
Dominic was born in1974. He was and is very special. Gineke had lost 3 babies before him and had to stay in bed for 20 weeks before he was born. I was allowed into the delivery room and was present at his birth. When he was born, the cord had a knot in it and was wrapped twice around his neck. The doctor was able to flip it over his head, and he started breathing. Later, the doctor told us that the cord had become tangled early in the pregnancy and that Dominic could be brain damaged.
Straight away Gineke and I started to pray, thanking Father for this lovely boy. We called him Dominic because we were ex-Catholics and because it means "Belonging to God.”
My father had club-feet, and, since it is hereditary, I looked to see if Dom was alright. I saw that he was pigeon-toed. Gineke looked after a pack of Brownies. The father of one of the girls was a paediatrician. She asked her dad to check out Dom. After he had examined him he suggested that we manipulate his feet after every bath, and that when he was 2 years old he might have to operate him.
In the evening after I came home from work Gineke bathed Dom and we prayed together for our Heavenly Father to touch Dom.
When Gineke took him back to the doctor after six weeks. He said, ‘This is not the same boy.”
Gineke replied, “Sorry Doc we only have one boy, and that is him!”
His feet were straight and we knew that the Lord had touched him. He became a long distance runner, and ran the Comrades a few times on those feet.
Dominics's drowning
In 1978 I took our older girls, Saskia and Nicole, to Germany to visit my parents. Gineke stayed in Johannesburg with Dominic and Yolande. It was July and the nights up there are very cold.
Gineke attended a conference and left Dominic, three years old, with Monika Peters, a friend.
We don’t really know what actually happened, but tried to reconstruct the incident. Dominic and Armin, Monika’s son, played in the garden with a box. It was a large one acre property with the house towards the top of the property and the swimming pool at the bottom. There was a fence around the pool with a locked gate. Somehow the cardboard box fell into the pool and the boys got inside the pool area. Dominic leaned forward to grab the box and fell into the icy water. The pump was broken and the pool was dirty, since it had not been cleaned for weeks. Dominic disappeared under the surface. He was wearing heavy winter boots and a thick pullover and that pulled him down.
Armin somehow managed to get back over the fence and went to his mother. Now he was a very shy boy and hung around his mother for a while, and the guilt and shock must have made him even slower to speak. She said that she would make some lunch. Then she asked “Where is Dominic?” After hesitating he said, “He has drowned.”
All this time, Dom was under water. Monika tore down the garden path to the pool and jumped the fence. She felt as if angels had lifted her over. All she saw was bubbles. She leapt into the water and followed the bubbles, grabbed Dominic and pulled him out of the water. By that time Armin had brought the keys to open the gate and she ran praying up to the house to put Dominic under a hot shower. He must have been under water for at least ten minutes.
When Gineke arrived at lunchtime, Dominic was breathing, but Monika was in shock and couldn’t speak. Gineke prayed for her and then she told the story. They went straight to the doctor who checked Dominic over. He predicted that Dom would have a heavy cold, pneumonia and possibly brain damage. But the Lord was good to us. He protected Dom and he had none of those things, and in the spring he went swimming with me and wasn’t afraid of water.
Analysing the incident afterward, it seemed that either the cold water closed Dominic’s lungs and his body went into a semi-frozen state and he was kept alive that way, or he died and the Lord raised him up again. Either way, we know the Lord saved him.
In the end, he went to university and gained a degree in agriculture and grassland science. He now works for Ezemvelo, training interns. So much for brain damage!
We came to know Jesus at the end of the Hippie era in October 1969. At that time we heard about a radical church in Norwood, Johannesburg, where many hippies had committed their lives to the LORD and followed Him. So we went to visit, and couldn’t believe our eyes. Young people were queuing up to get into the church. They had to wait for hundreds to leave from the earlier service before they could get into the church.
We were still praying and worshipping in our Catholic way, and only growing slowly in our Christian walk. Then we joined the Assemblies of God church with Derek Adcock. He was an Evangelist, and had a wonderful church in his house. One day he showed the film Ben Hur. In that movie Gineke and I saw the crucifixion and how Jesus bled for us on the cross. When Derek gave the altar call, we shot up out of our seats and rushed forward to renew our commitment to Jesus. From that time on our growth became much more obvious. We really felt that in Christ we were a new creation as described in 2 Cor 5:17.
Growing as Christians
I had been taking guitar lessons, and started playing the guitar at church. My music teacher was not a Christian, but I managed to gain his interest. One day he joined us at church. The next Sunday he came again, but on the third, he could not make it. Derek asked me to accompany him to visit him. Soon after we entered the shop, an argument flared up, and Derek said, “If you don’t come to church you are going to hell.”
The music teacher answered, “Now you can go to hell,” and he forbad Derek ever to come into his shop again. Needless to say I never saw the music teacher again. And so an opportunity was lost.
The Assembly of God church in Randburg started in our house. It was a wonderful beginning. Then after a few weeks we managed to rent an old Dutch Reformed Church in Honeydew. It then became known as Honeydew Assemblies of God. Costa Mitchell, who had just finished Bible School, joined the church and introduced “open ministry,” and encouraged the people to come to church prepared to take part. I used to check all week to see whether the Lord wanted me to say something, so I was always prepared.
Psalm 47 says “Clap your hands all you people,” so we started clapping our hands. Then we started singing some Scripture choruses. These things may not sound a big deal now, but they were then, because they represented a new openness to the Holy Spirit.
About that time I started reading in Ezekiel, and I came across verses like: “I will sprinkle clean waters on you, and you shall be clean. And I will give you a new heart, and I will put a new spirit within you.” It was winter in Johannesburg and outside the office it was nice and warm in the sun. At lunchtime I used to sit outside among the blue gum trees. One day, after I had read the Scriptures, the Holy Spirit anointed me, and I started to cry. It went on for about thirty minutes, then I went back into the office. The following day the same thing happened. It went on for about a week - every lunch-time I felt compelled to go and sit among the trees and cry. Then, after about a week it stopped, and then the Lord impressed on me that he had now done what he had promised in the Bible: he had given me a new heart and a new spirit.
Call to ministry
One weekend, a certain Brother Markus from South America came to visit. After talking to Gineka and me, he felt that we had a calling to the ministry. He came to our house and he prayed for us, and our ways parted again. Later I started studying through the Theological College of S.A. and two years later I passed my diploma.
Now I really wanted to apply what I had learned. God had convicted me to pray for a Holy Spirit revival. A week later I was asked whether I wanted to preach. I shied away from it since felt I wasn’t cut out to be a preacher. But I had a real burden to speak about a coming revival in the church, and to challenge the church to go out to “Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy, drive out demons. Freely you have received, freely give.” ( Matt.10:8) So I did preach that time.
On 23 March1975 I was given a prophecy that God would move in me in an entirely new way, and that, if I would yield, my ministry would change and I would bring in many souls.
Years before, a young man called Harry Chrysanthou and I had done some door-to-door ministry in Lenasia, an Indian area. Harry was in grade 11 at the time. Now, in 1975, I felt that we had a call of God to minister there, so we started doing mission work there with United Evangelical Churches, going door to door telling people about God’s love and forgiveness. We planted a church and pastored it part-time for 3 years.
This is Harry's recollection of the events:
Dear Wilfried,
You roped me into the ministry, and I willing and joyfully joined. I well remember you picking me up on Thursday evenings. We used to sing, praise, pray and fellowship on the way there and back. Your simple obedience to do outreach has had a lasting mark on my life. We'd go door-to-door and invite folks to a house meeting we'd hold later. At each home we'd be warmly received and offered food. Out of courtesy we'd oblige to accept it, but, boy, some of the food was HOT! The meetings were simple, you shared the old, old story. We prayed for folks and their needs. Some came to the saving knowledge of Christ. They were great times.
Harry.”
In 1976 we felt it was time to go into full-time ministry, so I resigned from my job as a Projects Engineer, and we began our first term with Campus Crusade for Christ. We had to gather a team of supporters that would pray for us and provide for us financially. That was a big challenge. Bill Bright, the founder, had a vision for to help fulfil the Great Commission and to reach the whole world by 1980.
We became part of the Lay Ministry, training church leaders and pastors, using the “Here’s Life” campaigns. We taught the prayer course, coffee evangelism and counselling course based on J. E. Adams book ‘Competent to counsel’. We also developed training materials for the German and Indian community. We were sent to Natal to work among the Indian Churches. We also organised the Natal book supply to conferences, arranged for special speakers, and screened and hired out the ‘Jesus’ film.
During that time from 1980 to 1983 the Lord opened a door for me to serve as an elder in an Indian church in Reservoir Hills.
We got to know a young Indian woman, Angie, and her two young daughters Claudette and Merle. Angie was married and lived in a small room with only a toilet and tap. Shortly after we met her, her husband divorced her, and died shortly afterwards. We took the young family with us on outings, or went shopping together, although it was often difficult because of apartheid laws. Sometimes we were chased off the beach because we had this multi-racial extended family. Every Sunday they spent the day at our house, and Dominic and Yolande became the girls’ best friends. Merle saw me as Papa - the only male figure she had ever known well enough to speak into her life.
We have kept in contact all these years and are still part of their lives. When I had a hip operation in 2019, she visited me in hospital and hugged and kissed me. A Zulu sister that saw this was astonished and had many questions. Merle told her the story of our relationship - that I was her adopted Papa - and ended presenting of the gospel to her and telling her the wonderful things that Jesus has done for us.
Learning to expect miracles
In 1982 we felt the Lord calling us back to secular work and local church leadership. So we left CCC, I found work, and we joined the Westville Christian Fellowship, under the leadership first of Dave Phillips and then of Pieter van Niekerk. After 6 months we were appointed to the eldership, and we stayed in that church for 10 years. Gineke taught Sunday school and together we led a home group. Later we were asked to supervise four other home groups.
God slowly started to use me in praying for the sick.
A young woman in the church had a father who was sick in Parklands hospital. Since I was one of the oldest in the church, the leaders chose me to go and pray for him. Hospitals were not my scene. I had previously fainted while visiting somebody. My heart said “Go,” but my mind was objecting. I waited a day, but then the Lord impressed on me to go. As I got to the hospital I could not find parking easily. So I prayed “You see Lord, I shouldn’t have come.” But as I was praying, a car pulled out, and I got the parking.
I thought, “What if they won’t allow me to go in because I am not a pastor?” Needless to say, nobody stopped me. When I got to the ward there were about 10-15 people there. By nature I am a shy person, and was hanging around the ward until a man asked me “Can I help you?” I explained that the church had sent me to pray for the patient. He said “We don’t believe in prayer but go ahead.” I went in, and when I saw the patient my heart sank. He was hooked onto a machine with a multitude of pipes going into his body. So I prayed quickly for the Lord to heal him, and I rushed out.
I did not go back for a couple of days. When I got into his ward he was sleeping, and I prayed again. I saw him a third time and this time he was awake. He asked me who I was and I explained. He thanked me and said, “Tomorrow they will remove this pipe and then I can go home.”
I read a Psalm, thanked the Lord, and left.
A few weeks later I met his daughter at church and asked her what happened. She said that when she had asked for somebody to go and pray for her father, they had given him six days to live. I had waited 2 days before I responded, and then another 3 days before I went again. If I had known the seriousness of the situation I perhaps would never have gone. But, praise the Lord, he recovered.
Expecting miracles became a part of our lives. If you are a child of God, supernatural things must happen - he is a supernatural God. We often experienced healings and God’s provision. When our children were sick we went to Doctor Jesus and most of the time they got healed. The God of Psalm 91 has been with us all our life. We were kept safe in car accidents and house burglaries. One day, Dominic fell out of our Combi on Jan Smuts Avenue (a very busy road in Randburg) and not a single car hit him. Nicole, our second child, swallowed a screw down her windpipe, and it got stuck just above the lungs. But the doctor was able to get it out with a magnet. One day, on our way back from KwaSizabantu, we had 8 people in the car and it was drizzling. We got pushed off the road, missing a huge oncoming truck by a hair’s breadth, and no-one was hurt. There are many stories like that. We have been trusting the Lord to provide for all our physical needs for over 20 years, and we have always had enough for ourselves and some to give to others.
Glenridge and a new calling
We always had a close relationship with our children. The two oldest daughters moved to Europe, and as soon as our son and other daughter left school they joined Glenridge Church. So, after prayerful consideration we left Westville in 1994 and joined Glenridge and served there.
While we were at Glenridge, we started giving three young people a lift home after church at night. They were students from the Westville Campus of KZN University. We invited them to come to our house, and we started a home group in 1998. This group grew to 15 students by 2000. We used 2 cars to collect them from Varsity – I still had a company car in those days.
One day night we saw that they were very depressed. We asked, “What is wrong, are they toy-toying again?” But that was not the problem. They were depressed because they had just heard that the university had conducted a sputum test, and that 75 % of the students had tested HIV positive.
So we started to talk to them about sexuality. But our English as foreigners was not good enough. Then we found a book called ”Love & Sex” from Reader’s Digest, which I used to develop 10 lessons, adding teaching from the Word of God.
Then in 2001 we clearly sensed God’s new direction for our lives. Our calling was to help prevent AIDS from spreading among young people. We knew that we had been blessed in South Africa for the past 30 years, and now we wanted to re-invest by helping youth to stay away from the paths of destruction and sin. We wanted to help to build the nation through education.
Dr John Tempelhoff’s wife Mary-Jean spoke to Gineke about a Program called “Life @ the Crossroads” which addresses the HIV pandemic. We decided that this was the programme to teach in the schools. I left my job again, and we joined Campus Crusade for the second time in 2002, because the program originated with them.
We were trained to teach, and started working with the Department of Education (DOE) around Durban. There were about 800 high schools in those days. The team we belonged to, some American and some local, trained approximately 600 teachers to teach the programme.
About that time, the Lord spoke to me from Luke 5:4 - “Jesus said to Simon, ‘Launch out into the deep and let your nets down for a haul.’ When they had done so, they caught such a large number of fish that their nets began to break.”
I asked, “Lord where are our fish?”
He answered, “The schools hold the fish.”
Umlazi is a large community south of Durban. We were told that there was a funeral in Umlazi every week for learners or teachers that had died of AIDS. In 2005 the DOE asked us to check on the schools in where teachers had been trained to teach Life @ the Crossroads. We discovered that none of the schools were teaching it.
So we asked the Lord what we should do, and he directed us to start teaching it ourselves. And so we started, and enjoyed it thoroughly.
But it was challenging.
In 2006 we finally resigned from CCC. The DOE ran out of money to train teachers. But we carried on voluntarily and are still doing it, and we have relied on the Lord for income.
Hi-jackers and Angels
Once, on our way to a school in Inanda, the car suddenly cut out, and stopped in the traffic. I tried everything but it would not start again. Goba , a leader we had in the car with us, opened his window and shouted into the crowd in Zulu, “We need a mechanic!” A few seconds later a man emerged out of the crowd and asked me to open the bonnet, which I did. I stayed in the car because I felt a bit intimidated with all the dark skins around me. I don’t know what he did but after a few minutes he asked me to start the car. It started right away and he vanished in the crowd in the same way he appeared.
I seriously wonder if he was an angel.
We had another scary experience one Thursday afternoon in 2013 in Chatsworth. I took a wrong turn and we landed in an unsafe area. I stopped to ask directions, and a young man wielding a knife forced his way into our car. Another young man came through the backdoor and wanted to stab Gineke, but he could not do it. Gineke and I both prayed and shouted the name of Jesus. Suddenly they left us and we escaped fast as we could. They got away with our data projector, DVD player, cell phone and money but didn’t harm us. We got home a bit shaky but unharmed. I believe God was protecting us.
On another occasion in Umlazi, in 2005, we had just finished at a school, and as we were driving away a Toyota came past us with high speed, stopped right in front of us, and four young men jumped. One put a gun to my head and another held a gun to Gineke’s stomach. I thought, “Now be calm, Wilfried.” They took the key out of the lock, and demanded my wedding ring, money and the cell phone. They grabbed Gineke’s bag containing all her documents and her cell phone, and broke her finger in the process.
Then we heard a commotion in the road. About 20 learners were running down the road screaming, “Our teachers are being robbed.” The robbers run back to their car, reversed at high speed and disappeared, as if chased by angels. Perhaps they were –twenty young black ones! When the police arrived they pointed their gun at us thinking that we were the robbers. Guns pointing at us twice in one day!
At the police station, the detective asked us, “Why are you so calm?” I replied: “I know where I am going when I die, do you?” He was quiet so I explained to him briefly the way of salvation, and gave him a copy of Four Spiritual Laws. The next day we had to go back to and we met him again. He told us excitedly that he had prayed the sinner’s prayer, and he asked for more booklets to give to his friends. If we had to get robbed in order to tell this man the gospel, that was fine with us, and we praise God.
A few months later we had to drive through most of Umlazi to get to the 4 schools. As we were about to enter Ekwazini High School, somebody opened the door and held a pistol into my side telling me to get out of the car. Since I had the pistol in my side I did not want to argue, but Gineke managed to slip back into the school unnoticed. and called the principal.
The hi-jacker told me to deactivate the alarm. I did so, but not the anti-hijack button. He started the car and shot off down the road. By that time the principal and a teacher came running. They jumped into their car to give chase. Bystanders pointed, showing them which way the hijackers had gone. A few hundred meters further on, the principal found the car with the doors wide open and alarm blaring. The anti-hijack device had worked!
Gineke meanwhile went up to the classroom. The learners asked, “Where is Sir?”
“Don’t worry,” she replied, “They have just stolen our car. Now let’s start our lesson.” And she started teaching.
When I entered the classroom Gineke asked, “Did you get it back?” I said, “Yes.” The learners leapt up clapping and shouting with joy. When we had finished the class, the staff wanted us to have a cup of tea and recover, and were amazed when we insisted on going straight away, because we had an appointment at another school. So we left.
After this, our children asked us not to return to Umlazi. So we finished off 2007 and asked the Lord to open new doors.
What next?
We drove around the Durban area and asked the Lord to open doors for us. Then God opened schools in our neighbourhood, which had previously been closed to us. So we have taught in them ever since. The need here has become just as great.
We see 8000-10000 learners every year in the various schools. We use a combination of programmes: “Life @ the CrossRoads” syllabus; “Smart Choices” – an HIV/AIDS awareness programme; “Smart Character” – a program teaching character, rights and responsibilities, love, bullying, looting etc. I have made PowerPoint programmes for all of these.
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The ‘Jesus’ film for children is part of the Smart Choices Workshop, since we challenge the learners that they need a higher being in their lives to give them strength. We explain that for us as Christians the Lord Jesus is our higher being, our role model. Every year 200-300 learners give their lives to Jesus after viewing the film, although some Hindu principals did not like it. It is an anointed movie and we love showing it. Many of the teachers are Christians and they do the follow-up.
We did not study to be teachers but the Lord opened the door and we have now been in the schools for many years. We can truly say that we are blessed and thank the Lord for opening the doors for us.
A final word from our Grandson
Tristan our small grandson was asked at nursery school whether we would come to grandparent’s day.
He said we couldn’t.
So the teacher asked him, “Why? What are they doing?’
He answered “They are saving the world.”
Postscript by Pastor Andy
I thoroughly enjoyed my time talking with Gineke and Wilfried in their home in Westville (where they have now lived for 41 years.)
They were relaxed and amusing, and quite evidently love the Lord very much. They love the work they’re doing and wouldn’t swap it for anything.
I mentioned that I was about to leave on holiday, and they quite casually told me that they have not had a holiday since 2005, but that it didn’t worry them at all, as they were enjoying serving the Lord so much. I could easily see that this was true
Recently, Wilfried sent me a video called "Tears of the Saints."
I feel that the video so aptly describes Wilfred and Gineke's passion, that I have included it here.
Letter from Merillena
I received this letter from Merillena Naidoo (Angie’s Daughter.) Considering the hopeless role-model Wilfried's father was, I found this letter particularly moving:
I was 15 months old in 1982 when my dad walked out of our family. I never knew him. I didn’t even know my grandmother, and hadn’t yet met my mum’s brothers and sisters, or my cousins. But then this white family walked into our lives - a white mother, a white father, a white brother, and 3 white older sisters. A mixed German and Dutch family put their wings of love over our tiny Indian family.
Saskia and Nicole Wieners, my two oldest ‘sisters,’ used to carry me around in shopping malls. People stared at them as it was the Apartheid era. They loved me as their little baby sister. I think I got most of my humour and dramatic nature from Nicole, and my sister Claudette got her love of fashion from Saskia. My mother developed a love for gardening from the Wieners, and learnt how to make healthy meals for our family. Wilfred being the thrifty man, taught us how to put money away for a rainy day, and taught us how to budget. He helped my mother find a job. I spent the most time with Yolande and Dominic.
They taught us how to swim, to do ballet dancing around the coffee table, and have such fun in the garden, picking up nuts and playing in the river that ran alongside their garden. I learnt how to play with dolls, play hairdresser, how to colour in, how to do puzzles.I had my first cream soda floats, my first taste of cheesecakes, biscuits, milo, chocolate, fruit juices, cold meat, bread rolls, big German bubble gums, salad and salad dressings. We had the most amazing foods and drinks at the Wieners home! They introduced us to the music of Julio Iglasias, the Blue Zoo, and tea at the Botanical Gardens. All of my ‘firsts’ were experienced with the Wieners family.I did not know that we were actually in the Apartheid era, as this family made me feel like I was one of them - just darker skinned, that’s all. Many in South Africa at that time would have disapproved, but that was the beauty of the Wieners family. They took us to the whites-only beaches even though we could have been thrown out. They always went against the stream and brought glory unto God in their very actions. What stands out the most from this family, was their love for the Lord Jesus Christ. This was evident in their lifestyle, and in how they loved us and took care of us as if we were their very own.
Aunty Gin (Gineke), always took time to play with me, to read me stories, to play board games, and to make the most delicious cold meat and gherkin rolls for me when we spent days there during our school holidays. I remember helping cleaning her pots and brass-wear and spoons from her spoon collection. We had fun times together. You too always prayed into my life, and still continue to. You are my second mum and I know I can speak with confidence to you about anything that troubles or concerns me. Even though I have a mum, there is so much that I have learnt from you, and I imitate you in my daily living. You continue to be an inspiration to me.
‘Papa’ otherwise known as Uncle Wilfred always prayed into our lives. He helped me with payments towards my university education. I was privileged to have him open my wedding with prayer. He actually got very emotional when praying and it really warmed my heart. Papa thank you for all the advice you gave me over the years. When it came to my studies, how to conduct myself, and even with the choice of husband that I would one day make, you had a huge influence on me. You always prayed for me and continue to pray for me. I can’t thank you enough for being the father-figure in my life. When my own father walked away, you stepped in and took the reins. I am eternally grateful for your input into my life.
I am who I am because of the Lord Jesus and his grace in my life, and because he gave me the Wieners to me and my family. They have loved us unconditionally, taught us many truths and lessons for life. I am truly honoured to be a part of their family. I don’t think my life would have been the same without their influence and impact in my life. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!
Merle