“Brother Knorr made it brief,” recalls Brother Muijden. “He said: ‘Who of you wants a missionary to come here?’ All of us raised our hands. ‘Fine,’ said Brother Knorr. ‘This month he will be here.’” True to his promise, on April 27, 1946, Gilead graduate Alvin Lindau did come.

A New Era Begins: Missionary Arrives

American Alvin Lindau, 26, moved in with Brother Baptista and began weaving the different factions into one group. One month later, Brother Lindau gladly reported: ‘The number of publishers reporting rose from 2 to 18.’ Brother Knorr, in turn, had good news for Suriname. He wrote that starting June 1, 1946, a branch office would be established. “I am sure,” added Brother Knorr, “that this is the time to push ahead with the work in Paramaribo.”

Appointed as branch overseer, Lindau set to work. First he moved the branch from Brother Baptista’s home to the second floor of a spacious two-story building at 50 Zwartenhovenbrug Street and converted the first floor into a Kingdom Hall. Then he started a weekly book study, Service Meeting, and Watchtower Study. After that, he taught the brothers how to conduct home Bible studies.

Next, Brother Lindau announced, “We go over to the offensive!” Recalls an old-timer: “He invited us to share in distributing the book Children from house to house. At first I was hesitant, but Brother Lindau told me: ‘You sink or swim.’

During the next month, October, the congregation welcomed Gilead graduates Max and Althea Garey as well as Phyllis and Vivian Goslin. By working side by side with the local brothers, the “five Americans from the Watchtower,” as the missionaries became known throughout the city, made sure that the publishers progressed.

By the end of 1946, the missionaries’ hard work and loving care had accomplished much: Preaching had increased, and divisions had given way to unity. But more progress was in store.

One missionary revealed grave irregularities in the missionary home. Brothers N. H. Knorr and M. G. Henschel, from the headquarters staff, looked into the matter while they visited Suriname in April 1949. Later, John Hemmaway, then a missionary in Guyana, was sent to investigate the matter. His findings led to the departure of three missionaries, leaving the Gareys with a congregation of 59 publishers. The brothers were back to square one. The problem was how to get them moving again.

Max Garey was appointed as temporary branch overseer and proved to be a caring shepherd during a gloomy time. Pioneer Nellie van Maalsen, now 76 years of age, remembers: “Like many in the congregation, I was sad and confused those days, but,” she says warmly, “Max was a loving brother. He put you at ease. Even now, when I think of Brother and Sister Garey, I just get tears in my eyes.”

For three months Max Garey dressed the wounds, so to speak, of the reduced group. Then, in November 1949, J. Francis Coleman and S. “Burt” Simmonite, new Gilead graduates from Canada, arrived to assist the brothers to get back on their feet again.

Earlier, the branch and missionary home had been moved to cramped quarters at 80 Gemeenelands Road. So to accommodate the new arrivals, a second home was rented on Prinsen Street. Burt Simmonite, at age 27, was appointed as the new branch overseer.

On January 22, 1950, the brothers felt in a truly personal way the empathy of Jehovah’s organization. That day, Brother Knorr made a special trip to Suriname to encourage them. ‘Even though the people gossip and say bad things about Jehovah’s Witnesses,’ Brother Knorr told 75 brothers, ‘do not be disturbed by that. By the lives you lead and the message that you preach, you will be able to comfort those seeking truth. This we must do regardless of what other people have done or will do in the future.’

After three days of upbuilding association, Brother Knorr said good-bye to the brothers. Fortified, they pressed on.

On the Right Track Again

With the Paramaribo Congregation back on the right track, the missionaries now looked westward to Nickerie, where Brother Buitenman and five more publishers​—unswayed by the comings and goings in Paramaribo—​had been preaching the Kingdom message without letup since 1936. To assist Brother Buitenman, by then 71 years old, the Gareys moved to Nickerie. Later, the meeting place was changed from Brother Buitenman’s home to the missionary home on Gouverneur Street.

John and James Brown, dependable brothers then in their late 40’s, assisted Brother Garey and received thorough training in return. In time, on Wednesday nights under the light of a kerosene lamp, John and James were delivering open-air public talks in Nickerie and surrounding villages.

Then, their brother, Anton Brown, also accepted the truth, and the “Browns’ Church,” as the townspeople called the congregation, further stepped up its activities. By the time of the first circuit assembly held in Nickerie, February 1953, the number of publishers had tripled to 21. Obviously, the congregation was benefiting from the missionaries’ presence. But how were the other missionaries, Burt Simmonite and Francis Coleman, faring in Paramaribo?

Field Service Versus Medicine

Burt and Francis did their best to reactivate some of the old-time publishers but to no avail. Often these publishers dodged appointments made to go in field service by giving the standard answer: “Brother, I couldn’t come. I took medicine.”

Yes, because of all the intestinal parasites in the tropics, from time to time such an answer would be true. “But,” said Burt, “whether right or wrong, I came to the conclusion that there was a tremendous amount of medicine being swallowed in that small congregation.” But what to do about it?

Sister van Maalsen helped out. One day, after she did not come for field service, she said: “Brother, I must tell you the truth. I was just too tired.” Moved by her honesty, tall Burt bent down, gave her a little hug, and said: “Nellie, as far as I know, I think you are the first one to tell me the truth about this.” Burt figured that this remark would make the rounds among the publishers. “It must have done so,” he says, “for the amount of medicine taken seemed to decrease markedly.”

“My Boys”

Many in the congregation appreciated the hardworking missionaries. So it was not long before Burt and Francis had found a place in the publishers’ homes and hearts. Even today, if you mention Burt and Francis to old-timers, dim eyes twinkle, lined faces smile, and memories come back.

“Burt and Francis were like relatives. They were my boys,” says Oma (Grannie) de Vries, now 91 years old. From her rocking chair, she points to the second floor of the house next door. “There they lived. They were cheerful neighbors.”

“Whenever we heard Burt whistling, we knew he was going out in service,” begins Oma’s daughter Loes.

“And when Francis was playing his violin and somehow making music with two spoons, we knew he was relaxing,” adds daughter Hille. “But when we heard Burt belting out Kingdom Song 81, ‘Wake the Song of Kingdom Cheer!’ we knew he was taking a shower.”

“And,” chimes in Dette, another daughter, “when we smelled their food burning, we knew the boys were studying.” So Oma began providing take-out food for them. She laughs heartily and rounds the story off by adding: “I tied a pan of food to a broom and stuck it out of my second-floor window. Then Burt’s long arms reached out from next door and grabbed the pan, and dinner was ready!”

How sad the brothers were when Francis contracted the dread tropical disease filaria! Despite cases of fever and increasing swelling in his leg, Francis continued his missionary service for over two more years. Nevertheless the sickness finally forced him to return to Canada. Brother Coleman had been a strong support in the congregation. With his help the congregation’s spirit had improved notably, and the number of publishers rose to 83.

Memories of Cherished Workers

Because the number of publishers climbed, Burt Simmonite wrote to Brooklyn: “Would it not be great if we could pass the hundred mark this year!” And sure enough, April 1952 brought an increase of 30 percent​—109 publishers.

Meet two cherished workers of those days: Hendrik Kerk and William Jack. Hendrik, a big man with an appealing smile and friendly eyes, had been a gang leader who was better known to the police than to polite society. “Hendrik was a rough diamond,” remembers Burt. He accepted the truth, supported the congregation wholeheartedly, and later became the first local special pioneer.

Then there was William, a cheerful and tireless worker in his 70’s. He lived in a miserable hut, wore much-mended but clean clothes. He would spend hours in his dugout canoe witnessing to people living scattered along the riverbank. When he found interested people, his weak heart condition did not stop him from traveling long distances to visit them.

“One early morning,” reminisces Burt, “we paddled for hours upstream to visit an interested family. Finally we arrived, rested a bit, and began studying around six in the evening. First, Brother Jack studied the book, ‘The Truth Shall Make You Free.’ Then he switched to The Watchtower, and after that, while my head was nodding from drowsiness, he discussed a third publication. Because of the distance, he could only visit this family every second week, but he made the time count! Next day we paddled back. It was a happy time.”