The collective level of knowledge of a society moves like a mammoth tanker. Whereas ten years ago in some Amsterdam secondary schools only 2 (in words: two!) lessons during history were devoted to the history of slavery, sometimes even rather on the American than the Dutch, so concluded researcher Ineke Mok, today we seem increasingly aware of the contours of that mass exploitation.
Today there are even mayors of big cities who understand that Dutch slavery in reality did not cease to exist in 1863, as the law then suggested, but only ten years later, in 1873. The owners of Surinamese enslaved people were thus compensated for the loss of their labor force.
Where for many this new history lesson ends in 1873, my history begins there. From then on contract workers were brought to Suriname, especially from Asia: British India, Dutch East Indies and China. The first ship to arrive in Suriname from British India was Lalla Rookh; after that many dozens of ships would follow. In two years, 150 years of Hindustani immigration will be celebrated on a large scale.
It explains why such diverse dishes as roti (Indian), nasi (Indonesian) and tjauw min (Chinese) all belong to Surinamese cuisine. It explains why I have South Asian traits, but I really have my roots in Suriname, as I have to explain when, for example, a proctor during an economics exam in a large, quiet hall shouts out loud ‘Pakistan!’ yells at me, assuming it makes me feel welcome. It explains why there are still tensions within the Surinamese community, because the 45,000 Hindustani (and no, that is not the same as Hindus) see little of themselves in the image of Surinamese in the Netherlands, such as NRC recorded last month.
‘Contract worker’ is one of the many euphemisms from our national history. The workers were actually called ‘coolies’, now that the word ‘slave’ was no longer allowed to be used. The contractors were sometimes recruited under false pretenses, such as the prospect of eating and drinking from a golden plate and cup.
The practice turned out to be more unruly. About twenty percent of the first 4,000 Hindustani who were brought to Suriname succumbed in the first two years as a result of illness, poor living conditions or hard work. The long journey overseas was also often traumatic.
Unfortunately I do not know in detail what the sea voyage or the working days of my ancestors were like. That may have changed when I read the book a few weeks ago The made cool by Radjinder Bhagwanbali. In it he tells about contractor Ramjan, number 506 B, who was punished on July 6, 1882 because he did not finish his work on time: he had cut four pieces of flab too little. After that, he had to stand handcuffed and bent over for four nights, from seven o’clock in the evening to five in the morning. For two nights, a military police officer put a 39-centimeter wooden stick in his mouth and tied a rope around his neck. Ramjan couldn’t eat anymore.
Sometimes I wonder what use it is to repeat the past, for fear that you will continue to live in old stories. That question immediately feels different when you read back your own family name, even though I have not yet been able to find out whether Ramjan, number 506 B, is a direct ancestor of mine.
I would have preferred to have written a column here about trivial matters, such as the sense and nonsense of the CBR theory exam, or the fact that a kilo of kruidnoten contains 5,200 kilocalories. But if the descendants of the coolies don’t tell this story, including myself, then no one will tell.
Tahrim Ramdjan is a journalist and student of constitutional and administrative law.
A version of this article also appeared in NRC in the morning of November 4, 2021
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