Letter to my country of origin | Studio Zwerver

My name is Kaj, I am 25 years old and was born in Haarlem. I am currently pursuing a Master's degree in Interior Architecture in Ghent. Last summer, I was assigned to write a letter to my country of origin. On my mother's side of the family, I have Indonesian roots. This is a part of me that I have hidden away for a long time. With this letter, I want to restore that to its rightful place.

(This letter first appeared in its current form earlier this year in the 64th Almanac of the Language-Loving Student Society ‘t Zal Wel Gaan.)

The Netherlands,

I know you through and through. You make me proud and at the same time make me feel ashamed. You are a country of free thinkers and doers. You are a country with a rich history. A country with possibilities and a country with privileges.

You are a country whose language is understood by many other countries as gibberish. A combination of joking sounds that subsequently makes our bravado articulate. You are a small country, inhabited by people with big hearts. You are a competitive country, where people prefer to hold first, second, and third place, and, if it suits them, stand there proclaiming that they invented the game as well. But that invention is not always based on truth. Dutch bluff. It is something we excel at, and if there is anything we have truly invented, it is that.

I must admit: bluffing gets you far. You come across as confident and you get things done. But once you have bluffed your way to the top, don't forget to look back, Netherlands. Because you didn't do it alone. You have, in fact, become a multicultural melting pot containing people from all over the world.

For when we speak of your ‘best’ period, the Golden Age, you possessed more than thirty colonies worldwide. All these places in the world have contributed to your greatness. Other peoples have even suffered for your greatness. So, Netherlands, when you pat yourself on the back again, don't forget to thank the rest.

Indonesia,

I don't know you well enough. To me, you feel like that one awkward person at a party I want to say hello to, but whose name I can't remember.

I wish I knew more about you. For a long time, things were different. I used to pretend you didn't exist. I was confronted daily with innocent jokes about my narrow eyes: “Slanted eyes, Chinese, Thai, and rice picker.”

These jokes, which I knew weren't meant to be mean on their own, started to weigh heavier and heavier little by little, to the point where I wished I were just Dutch. “If only I could have eye surgery, so I would never be seen as an outsider again.”

Indonesia, I had excluded you from my heart with all your richness. That is now in the past. Little by little, I am starting to embrace you and even become proud of your presence in my life. You make me diverse and unique, and even though I don't know you that well yet, I would love to get to know you better.