Pieces of Home Abroad

The Jakarta Post   |  Fri, 03/28/2008 10:06 AM  |  Said & Done

The distant Netherlands still has many reminders of its historical and cultural ties with Indonesia.

The setting could not be more typically Dutch: a sailboat gliding along a Frisian lake. The flat, green landscape along the water is dotted with families on bicycles, enjoying the sight of grazing cows and sheep.

I am the only black-haired person in the boat and the only Indonesian: Except for my husband Erik, the six blonds and brunettes on the boat are strangers to me. It took less than five minutes, however, to figure out that four of the others have strong Indonesian connections.  

“My grandfather was a judge in Makassar,” says Annemiek Ter Kuile, a
60-something woman from Bilthoven, a leafy, upper middle-class suburb near Utrecht. She recalls his many stories about his journeys around the archipelago. “He described this wondrous trip to East Timor: the people, their clothes, their language. It was magical.”

Three other fellow sailors were either born in the former Dutch East Indies or their parents were. Only two people, including my husband, in the boat had no direct Indonesian roots.

“But I have you as my constant punishment for three centuries of Dutch colonialism in Indonesia,” he often quips.   

Erik used to tell me when we still lived in Jakarta about how much Indonesia lives on in the Netherlands. Yeah, sure, I used to say. My husband sometimes sprinkles salt on his stories to make them more appetizing.

But having lived in the Netherlands for some years now, I realize that he was not exaggerating on this particular point.  

Dutch colonialism figured prominently in history textbooks during my elementary and
secondary school years. They all carried basically the same message: 1596, the year the first Dutch ship anchored off Batavia, was the beginning of a 350-year Dutch presence, marked by wars and oppression, and ending with the triumph of Indonesian nationhood.  

I think most Indonesians, me included, overlook the fact that our country influenced the Netherlands just as much, if not more, than our former colonial master influenced us.

Put much of that down to a simple issue of size. The European country is roughly the size of Central Java. In the mid-1940s, the population of the Netherlands numbered less than 10 million, while the Indonesian archipelago had about 75 million people.  

My Indonesian-related experience on the Frisian lake has proven to be the rule rather than the exception. Indonesia is all around me, even far from home.

Erik’s best friend recounts spending his childhood flying kites with local kids near the Manggarai train station in Central Jakarta.  Another close friend of his tells about her uncle, who has been a priest in Jakarta for decades; it did not take us long to figure out that he was the parish priest during my elementary school days in Kebayoran Baru.  

I don’t believe there is any other western country where one can find kerupuk (shrimp crackers), bawang goreng (fried onions), terasi (shrimp paste) and at least four kinds of sambal (chilli sauce) on mainstream supermarket shelves.

Even remote Dutch towns have at least one Chinese-Indonesian restaurant. Those that boast genuine Chinese food also offer beloved nasi rames (rice and side dishes) or chicken satay on the menu.  

I also have learned the hard way that Indonesian cannot be used as a secret language when it comes to making smart comments about people in public places: the possibility of someone understanding me is not worth the embarrassment.

Even using Javanese is risky here: you never know if a Surinamese Javanese, a descendant of the Javanese who migrated in the 19th century to the Dutch South American colony, is within earshot.

One of the main annual happenings in The Hague is the Pasar Malam Besar,
described by Wikipedia as “the biggest Eurasian event in the world.” It features a mix of nostalgic and present-day Indonesian cultural events, as well as lots of food.

Despite the relatively steep entrance fee (the Dutch are tight when it comes to
spending money), more than 100,000 people attend the two-week event every year.  

Every respectable bookstore in the Netherlands has an “Indonesia” section. Antique bookstores here are also full of old works about Indonesia; I found the address label of the original owner -- H.H.D. Bottelier, Boengsoeweg 1, Bandoeng, Java – neatly stamped on the front page of one book.

More poignant reminders are found in the daily obituary pages, with many of the deceased born in Batavia, Bandung or Manado. It begs the question: as the people with direct connections to Indonesia are gradually lost over time, will the Netherlands also lose its Indonesian ties.
Dutch filmmaker Hans Hylkema, who made 1993’s Oeroeg, a film set in Indonesia during colonial times and filmed in Java, believes the influence will remain.
“The more time passes by, the stronger our wish to hold on to our ties, our history,” he says.
While I may not necessarily share his conviction, there is one thing I do know: no Dutch person, young or old, would like to see their local street-corner Indonesian toko (store) disappear.
+ Lina Sidarto

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