In Child of Het Onland, I take several steps back in time. Therefore I traveled to Het Onland, the region where my great-grandmother was born. It was marshy land where little grew except reeds, willows, and grass. A swamp where the underprivileged settled in caravans. My great-grandmother wrote letters to future generations: memoirs of a life spent raising five children in a small house on wheels. Drawing on these modest reflections of an unplanned life shaped by water, I now turn my gaze toward my own path. What ghosts have been travelling with the family for a hundred years?