What happens to a culture when it mixes with that of a new homeland? In the Netherlands, this question is particularly relevant for the two million compatriots who have a family ties with the former Dutch East Indies. At the time, their ancestors formed the largest wave of immigration to the Netherlands ever.
Museum Sophiahof now has an exhibition with the telling title Our country (which, not coincidentally, opened simultaneously with the exhibition Revolution! at the Rijksmuseum). In this semi-permanent arrangement, several generations of eight families are highlighted, representing different ethnic (sub) communities. The intention is to allow third and fourth generations to speak about their family histories. The ‘portraits’ consist of spoken stories, illustrated with objects brought from the country of origin. A descendant of an Indo family tells the life story of the ancestors on the basis of a sirihstel with which chewing tobacco was made; a granddaughter takes the bow of a proa that her grandfather made as an occasion to sketch his fortunes. Macaber is the dagger that ex-soldier and father of writer Alfred Birney used to fight his demons at night (he described it in his bestseller The Interpreter of Java†
Also read: ‘My father’s despair haunts me for life’
The crossing to Holland – often forced – is depicted on the basis of a teddy bear that experienced the great journey, and with private photos and film material from archives. The adventures of a Dutch teacher and a Chinese-Indonesian Peranakan family are also discussed.
Ideal Immigrants
They were forced to leave the new Indonesia: because their lives were in danger, because they worked for the colonial rulers, or because their struggle for independence was not granted by the new regime (Moluccans and Papuans). They were called ‘ideal immigrants’ because, despite the cold reception, many quickly adapted to Dutch society. Just as they had joined the Dutch rulers in the Indies. As a result, the Indies culture here remained invisible for a long time.
/s3/static.nrc.nl/images/gn4/stripped/data82014012-3140ea.jpg)
Photo Private collection R. Kleering van Beerenbergh
The shown pusaka – heirlooms – should now change this, but have the disadvantage of placing a strong emphasis on first-generation immigrants. Less attention is paid to the second generation, who brought attention to the pain of their parents. It was the children of the Moluccan former KNIL soldiers who fought against the injustice done to their parents by both the Dutch and the Indonesian state. It was not until the 1980s that any official recognition was given to these ‘forgotten’ groups in the form of government subsidies, which also resulted in Museum Sophiahof.
Also read: ‘Indonesia has denied its own family’
It’s a shame that too Our country pays no attention to the relationship of the third and fourth generations to present-day Indonesia. They have often visited the motherland that their exiled parents avoided, wrote books about it and made theater plays about it. Such a contemporary experience is essential to keep a culture alive. Precisely because of the great diversity of these groups (in ethnic and religious terms and in terms of skin color and class) there is no single ‘Indian identity’.
/s3/static.nrc.nl/images/gn4/stripped/data82014008-6a8fd4.jpg)
Photo Collection P. Helaha/ Moluccan Historical Museum
Moreover, the socio-political aftermath of colonialism is left out of the picture here. It is currently under discussion whether Western museums should transfer art objects from former colonies to countries of origin, including Indonesia. This affects these ethnic groups directly: ancestors sometimes took such objects with them. Their culture also belongs to them, also in their new homeland.