Creole drum

An Anthology of Creole Literature in Surinam

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Chapter 5
J.G.A. Koenders

As a teacher in Surinam working for the government, Koenders was forced to toe the line of colonial educational policy. The educational system of the Netherlands was faithfully copied in Surinam and was believed to be the best way to transmit European knowledge and skills. Dutch schoolbooks, fitting the needs of Dutch children in their European environment, were shipped to the colony and used in the Surinam schools. Creole culture and language were generally regarded as obstacles to a better future. It was thought that the use of the mother tongue would negatively influence the children's command of Dutch. Therefore the children were not allowed to speak Sranan Tongo, their own Creole language, at school. Even at home, parents were expected to discourage their children from expressing themselves in this language. Teachers and parents alike sincerely believed that this was for the benefit of the children.

Consequently, as we noted in the Introduction, Creoles developed an ambivalent attitude toward Creole language and culture. They were taught that anything that was their own must of necessity be inferior. They were inclined to adhere to the official viewpoint, though it seldom became a deep-rooted conviction. One can easily understand that parents and teachers often had to violate these self-imposed rules and in practice could not avoid using Sranan Tongo.

However, it still took great courage to go against the policy publicly. This was what Koenders did. He actually tells us in one of his articles that it became clear to him how, through the school system, the children were being trained to become stupid parrots: ‘Ever since my early thirties I have known what sort of knowledge parrot knowledge is, to wit, many words, only words, instead of comprehension’ (Foetoe-boi, July 1946).

Around 1943 some women of the organization Pohama (short for Potie hanoe makandra, literally ‘Join hands together’) enlisted his cooperation. This organization tried to raise the poor from their inhuman conditions and stimulate them to aspire to greater heights. It was officially founded in 1944 and initiated many activities, such as inducing Creoles to save money through the suborganization Praktama (short for Prakserie tamara, ‘Think of tomorrow’), developing

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nurseries for lower-class working mothers, and organizing an annual Creole cultural evening on Emancipation Day. Koenders actively participated in the organization. He published three booklets for it, the first in 1943 under the title Foe memre wi afo (In memory of our forefathers), which is mainly concerned with the Creole language and its orthography; at a later date Aksie mie, mie sa piekie joe foe wie skien (Ask me, I will answer you about our body), in which he tries to explain elementary biological facts to people with an imperfect knowledge of Dutch; and finally Sieksie tintien moi en bekentie siengie (Sixty beautiful and well-known songs).

Foetoe-boi (Servant) was ostensibly a periodical put out by Pohama. It was regarded as Koenders's brainchild, although other authors were involved. But Koenders unmistakably controlled the journal as the editor responsible for it. It was written in Dutch and Sranan Tongo. Many articles were clearly inspired by Koenders's ideals. He wanted Surinam Creoles to be self-assured and spiritually independent. The word Creole embraces the whole colored population of African descent, however remote, and Koenders preferred another term. He called himself a negro and addressed the people to whom he wrote as negroes, deliberately ignoring the touchiness of many of them about the term.¹ On many occasions he explained: ‘I am addressing myself to those who are great-grandchildren of the negroes imported from Africa as slaves, and who don't wish to deny this’ (Foetoe-boi, May 1946). In fact, almost everyone tried to deny it in one way or another. The nearly white-skinned Creole had more opportunities to deny his background than the pure black, who could not hide his skin but could, and often did, conceal other marks of his slave past.

Koenders addressed himself mostly to blacks and to the inhabitants of the backyards of Paramaribo.² He taught them to be proud of their skin, their history, their language, and their culture. Yet a close scrutiny of ten years of Foetoe-boi discloses a contradiction. Ironically, Koenders often resorted to artificial constructions more reminiscent of ponderous written Dutch than of the natural flow of Creole speech. He had a tendency to make an unnatural distinction between homonyms,

1 Twentieth-century Surinam has seen more revivals of negro identity. Koenders evidently was not the first to use this term.

2 The slaves of Paramaribo were lodged in small houses built in the backyards of their master's home. This pattern continued until quite recently. Houses that front on the street, even rather modest ones, have a backyard where small shacks are built and rented to the poor.

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for instance. His ardent wish to prove the value of his mother tongue caused him to fall prey to the very thing he so severely criticized in others. Yet the fundamental tenets of his belief - his insight into the deepest roots of Creole frustration, his protest against the injustice of the colonial educational system - remained unshaken. It was up to the younger generation to free themselves completely from cultural oppression. This new generation was greatly stimulated and encouraged by Koenders and his Foetoe-boi.

In reading through all the numbers of Foetoe-boi one gets a vivid picture of Koenders as a highly intelligent man with strong personal convictions, never impressed by authority, title, or position. For ten years he was engaged in a private war against intimidation and ignorance. For ten years his voice was heard reiterating the same themes: Never be ashamed of your own background, trust your own common sense more than those beautiful authoritative phrases, and most of all respect yourself! By imitating others, by hiding your own ways, you only turn yourself into an object of ridicule and become a party to your own enslavement. His favorite proverb, cited many times in Foetoe-boi, was: Yu kan kibri granmama, ma yu no kan tapu kosokoso (‘You may hide your grandmother, but you cannot prevent her from coughing’).

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Foetoe-boi, May 1946

Wi kondre

Dati no wani taki na kondre di wi abi èn pe wi abi fu taki. Nanga wi kondre wi de meyne: na kondre di bow na tapu sweti, watra-ay nanga brudu fu wi afo, den nengre di den ben tyari komopo na Afrika leki kakalaka na fowru mofo, fu meki stampu busi kon tron moy Sranan. Wi ala di de pikin-pikin fu den nengre disi èn di wani sabi dati, meki fu dipi lespeki fu wi afo ede, wi lobi wi kondre leki nomru wan, so leki ala tra nasi, te na den moro lagi wan, e du. Ibri pipel abi na ini en libitori takru, ogri, fisti momenti, na wan moro leki na trawan. Dati wi afo ben de srafu no de wan sani fu syen: den no ben du dati nanga den fri wani.

Syen a de te wi frigiti wi afo, te wi trapu den sweti, watra-ay, brudu nanga futu. Wan nasi di trowe en libitori, frigiti en afo, so wan nasi te fu kaba a sa tron figi futu. Meki wi poti anu makandra fu wi no tron figi futu.

Wi tongo

Dati a no san den kari neger-engels ofu nengre-tongo. Neger-engels dati na a broko broko Engels, san wan nengre e taki: mi no no na presi fu I don't know. Nengre tongo na a tongo fu ala nengre èn dati wi tongo no de tu, bika dia na Sranan kaba, den abra sula nengre abi den eygi tongo. Wi tongo na Sranan nengre-tongo, dati na a tongo fu na moro bigi ipi Sranan nengre. Nèt so leki na ini ala tra tongo yu abi wortu, di den ben teki fu trawan, so na wi tongo tu, ma broko broko fu wan tra tongo a no de; a abi en eygi fasi, a e meki wortu na en eygi fasi.

Wan pipel di libi ofu lasi en tongo ofu afrontu en fu wan tra tongo ede, awansi sort'wan, na pipel dati don moro den afo fu wi; bika den ben koti na odo kaba taki: yu kan kibri granmama, ma yu no kan tapu koso koso. Efi fu yu brede ofu prisiri yu mu leri wan

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fremde tongo, leri en bun, ma a no fu dati ede yu mu ferakti yu eygi tongo èn trowe en...

Taki san di yu wani,
suma sani a no yu sani,
suma pe a no yu pe,
sor' mi pe di f' yu de!

Foetoe-boi, June 1946

Wan srafuten tori

Soleki fa wi ben yere nofo tron, den grantata fu wi, fu tron friman, ben de lonwe libi den pranasi go na busi. So den srafu fu Coronie ben de du tu. Den ben de teki boto, seyri go te na mofo Nickerie liba. Drape den ben de wakti, te den feni wan bun kans fu koti na bradi Corantijn liba go na abra sey, pe den kon fri, bikasi Berbice no ben de seni den go baka na Sranan. Dati de wan fu den reyde, di meki Coronie nanga Nickerie busi no ben sabi san di den de kari Marrons (dyuka's). Ma no ala ten a ben de waka den bun. Nofo tron den ben de kisi den na Nickerie seni go baka na Coronie. Dati ede den ben kon na makandra na wan konparisi, fu luku san fu du, te den feni wan fasi. Na sekanti, bijna ala ten skuna fu den pranasi eyginari ben de didon. Wan bun dey ofu moro betre wan bun neti, te gron kowru dan ala suma fu den difrenti pranasi, di ben meki na barki nanga makandra, de kon na sekanti teki wan skuna lonwe gowe. Fu dati no kan pasa moro, den eyginari poti wakti na ini den skuna: srudati nanga lay gon. Nengre taki: hontiman de pramisi busimeti, busimeti de pramisi hontiman.

Na da ten, di wi de taki, wan masra na Coronie ben abi wan futuboy nen Philip, di ben abi so wan switi fasi, dati en masra nanga trawan, èn den tra srafu, ya te den srudati srefi, ben lobi èn fertrow en. Wan dey Philip meki wan barki nanga someni trawan taki, srudati ofu no srudati, den sa si wan fasi, fu teki wan fu den skuna, lonwe gowe. Fu di ala suma ben lobi Philip, sodati den bakra no ben sa abi sospisi na en tapu, Philip teki na en tapu, fu seti na tori nanga wan tu trawan

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makandra. So den wroko safri-safri, ondro-ondro, te na yuru doro. Mofo fu mofo na boskopu waka: So wan neti, so wan yuru na so wan presi. Na dey dati, Philip du ala en wroko leki fa a ben gwenti, sondro fu misi wan. Di en masra de go na bedi, a waka go nanga en te na da kamra mofo doro, dan a taki kuneti, a dray baka. Philip now no ben de futuboy moro, ma edeman fu en srudati. Esi a feti go na sekanti, pe a feni ala sani na order. Èn a teki neygi steyfi man na ini wan srupu fu lo go na wan skuna, di ben de fu en masra. Fosi den doro, na wakti si den, a teki en gon, dan a bari: he drape, suma na un, san un wani? Bun suma, na mi Philip, wi kon, fu kon du wan pikin krawerki.

Di den srudati yere na Philip, den poti den gon na sey, libi den, meki den kon na ini na skuna. Den tra neygi, leki fa na barki ben meki, panya den srefi, ala di Philip ori na Kapten nanga tori, te a si ibri wan man na en posu. Dan a gi kumando, seni go. Fosi yu denki, Philip naki na Kapten trowe na gron. Den matrosi, di ben de srafu tu, ben de tu na ini na barki, den nanga den tra neygi poti anu makandra, tay na Kapten fasi nanga na mast, tay den srudati anu nanga futu, libi den didon na tapu na dèk. Na baka dati, den opo seyri, den trowe fu Demarara, pe den doro eri bun. Di den doro dape, den go na lanti, go ferteri na tori. Lanti libi den fri èn so na Kapten nanga den srudati ben abi fu dray baka sondro den lonwe man, go na Coronie, fu tyari na nyunsu gi na masra fu Philip. So wi de si taki, Venezuela abi en Urbina, ma Sranan abi en Philip tu.

Now wan suma sa taki, Philip de wan takru suma, fu di a meki misbruik fu na fertrow fu en masra nanga trawan. Dati na so, ma Philip na libisuma, nèt so leki ibri trawan. Te wan libi suma de feti fu en fri ofu fu en libi, dan no wan suma de prakseri den moy tori disi. Fransman taki: à la guerre comme à la guerre, nengre taki: feti no abi kondisi. Mi denki ala tu tan a srefi, Fransman na libisuma, nengre na libisuma.

Foetoe-boi, July 1946

Wi tongo

Na Srananneti M'ma B'be meki wan ferwijti na den tata, mama

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nanga meester fu den Sranan pikin. A taki, en no de puru tiki, meester Kundrusu de na ini tu. Na den meki den pikin sabi Andrisi fu Denmarki, ala di den no sabi M'ma B'be fu No-mer-mi-kondre. Krin taki, na bun libi M'ma B'be, ma fu meester Koenders sey yu abi wan bigi aboysi. Di mi ben de wan yongu meester fu 20 yari, mi ben abi na law, ma dati pasa mi langa ten. Na skoro mi ben e tanapu na den pikin tapu fu taki Hollands, fu di den musu leri na tongo, ma noyti mi ben kisi na mi ede fu strafu wan pikin fu di a ben taki en mama tongo. Sensi 40 yari kaba, meester Koenders ben frustan san agu taki: tyakun tyakun, fu yu na fu yu.

Dati ede nofo tron mi no ben syen, te mi firi taki wan pikin no ben frustan san a leysi, fu aksi en taki, fa yu sa taki dati na Sranan tongo? M'ma B'be, yu sabi san ben e pasa dan? Den pikin ben e luku fruwondru, dati mi aksi so wan sani, bika na oso den ben leri taki, yu no mu taki Nengre ofu Neger-Engels, soleki fa wi ben e kari Sranan tongo na a ten dati. Ma mi no ben store mi srefi no wan yuru na san den pikin ofu den mama nanga den tata ben denki fu dati, bikasi sensi mi tron wan yonkuman fu 30 yari, mi ben sabi sortu leri na popokay leri de, d.w.t. furu wortu, soso wortu, na presi fu na frustan san den wortu wani taki. Yu yere mi tori M'ma B'be? Wan tra leysi yu sa abi fu puru tiki.

Now di mi abi na okasi, mi sa teki en fu tagi den suma di e kon na Srananneti wan sani. A sori leki furu fu un no e frustan san de na ede sani fu den Srananneti. Meki den suma dati yere bun. Srananneti wani taki Sranantongo neti, d.w.t. wan okasi fu sori taki wi tongo no hey, a no grani, a no gudu, ma toku a kan du san den tra tongo e du. Te den suma na Srananneti bari lafu, klop na ini anu, dan mi de seyker taki, den sabi fu san ede den e du dati. Den frustan san den yere. Efi den Srananneti ben e ori na Hollands, dan mi de seyker taki, furu fu den suma di ben sa klop, ben sa de leki skapu: na wan bari bè, na trawan no sabi fu san ede, a piki bè.

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Foetoe-boi, February 1947

Fruku?

Yu abi suma, Nengre nanga trawan, di e taki wan fruku de na Nengre tapu. Na tru dan? Ya, so a de, fruku de na furu furu Nengre tapu, no na ala. Na fruku di de na den tapu, dati de disi: na don, law bribi di den abi taki fruku de na den tapu. Na bribi disi den teki fu srafuten, ala di na baka srafuten, trawan steyfi na bribi disi na den ini èn san wan suma e bribi, bun ofu ogri, fu en srefi, na dati a sa de tu. Mi no e bribi na wan fruku fu Nengre, èn mi abi bigi èn dipi sari fu den Nengre di abi na bribi disi. Fu san ede? Fu di na don law bribi e dompu den go na ondro, a e broko den kindi, a e lan den anu, a e tapu den ay, a e swaki den baka, a e dofu den, a e dungru den frustan, a e masi den geest, a e kwinsi den siel.

Wan dey wan bakra leriman ben kari en gemeente kon makandra fu taki wan saak nanga den. Te un yere leriman, dan un kan frustan wanten taki na tori disi a no disiten tori, bikasi disi ten leriman no de moro. Ma efi suma de, di wani denki taki den tori leki den disi na fu owruten nomo, dan a spijt mi gi den, bika dan den sa kori den srefi, te leki na dey fu tide trawan de luku Nengre leki pikin, di den kan tagi sani, di den no sa dorfu tagi trawan. Te leki na dey fu tide furu furu Nengre de, di lasi lespeki fu den srefi, dati nanga prisiri den e teki afrontu fu trawan, di e luku den ‘als niet vol.’ Suma sa wani twijfel na den tori disi, mi e ferseyker taki dusin fu dusin mi abi den. Trawan fu den suma dede kaba, trawan de na libi ete, so, efi a de fanowdu, mi kan kari nen, ofu mi kan sori san den skrifi, braka na tapu weti. Meki wi go doro.

Di na leriman kaba taki san a wani, den suma, den ben sa de wan 50 so, sidon sondro fu piki wan wortu. Dan wan fu den teki man-ati, a opo fu taki, ma di na leriman si taki a e lo na boto go na wan sey di a no feni bun, a bari na Nengre: A nofo now, ori yu mofo!

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San a Nengre du? A teki en ati opo gowe, ala di a taki: Yu kari mi fu taki, efi mi no kan taki, dan san mi e tan du? Dan a gowe fu en. Man srefi! Te leki na dey fu tide mi abi lespeki fu a Nengre disi, bika a no ben abi na don law bribi taki fruku de na en tapu, di e meki lasi lespeki fu en srefi. Den trawan, san den du? Den seti fu krutu na trawan fa a abi hey memre, na presi fu den du san den ben abi fu du, opo gowe libi na leriman. Ma pôti, di den ben abi na bribi taki fruku de na den tapu, den tan sidon.

Wan dey wan pastoru ben e taki en gemeente odi. ‘Na ten di Bisschop kari mi, tagi mi taki en e seni mi go na ..., di mi prakseri taki mi mu go na ... na den agu mindri, mi go na ini mi kamra, mi krey.’ San den suma du? Den du leki suma di e bribi taki fruku de na den tapu. Den sidon arki na pastoru èn di den komopo na kerki, dan den piri en skin gi en. Na en baka. San den ben sa du, efi den abi lespeki fu den srefi? Den no ben sa kosi na baka, ma den ben sa opo wan na baka trawan gowe libi na pastoru nanga en kerki èn den no ben sa trapu futu na ini na kerki te Bisschop ben seni wan tra pastoru gi den.

Efi so Nengre ben du, efi so den ben leri den pikin fu den, taki un mu gi ibri wan suma san a mu abi, ma un no mu meki wan suma, awansi na Bakra, awansi na pastoru ofu leriman teki un meki dagu, dan tide na bribi no ben sa de moro taki fruku de na Nengre tapu, meki no wan bun den no abi, noti den no kan, den gebore fu tan na trawan ondro. Den Nengre di e taki so, na den tapu na fruku de, fu di den abi na bribi taki fruku de na den tapu. Mi ben taki kaba san na law don bribi disi e meki fu wi. Wan fu den ogri di na bribi disi e du, a e dungru wi frustan. Efi wan Nengre no wani du wan sani, di kan tyari en na fesi, kaba a go du na srefi sani gi wan trawan meki na trawan kon na fesi, dan na Nengre dati frustan dungru fu tru.

Nengre kondreman, mi teki Gado begi unu, trowe na bribi disi na ini faya, teki na asisi trowe na ini liba, dati nomo kan steyfi yu futu, lusu yu anu, tranga yu baka, opo yu ay nanga yu yesi, krin yu frustan, nanga wan wortu tron wan man fu karakter, di e lespeki en srefi. Sondro lespeki fu yu srefi, noyti trawan sa lespeki yu.

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Foetoe-boi, March 1949

Pe den alamala go?
Amba, Kwami èn Kodyo.
Farawe fu oso, farawe na abra se
den opo ay e suku pe den oso de.

Trangaman fufuru den,
trangaman fufuru den,
seti den leki elen
ondro dungru sipi, koti se
go farawe na abrasey,
go srafu neti nanga dey.

Bigi busi, makti bon
Yaw mu fara kon na gron.
Kwami diki gotro, bantaman,
fu trangaman tron guduman,
fu busi kan kon tron Sranan.

Adyuba e drasi ken.
Wans' en skin e krasi en
ten no de fu krasi: Futuboi fu trangaman
tanapu nanga langa wipi na en han.

Tobo lay nanga kofi
fu Akuba èn Afi.
Wasi den mu wasi: afu bere, swaki skin,
so den mu wasi ala tobo fre fre krin.

Kofi, katun nanga ken
den mu prani,
ma no f' den.
Sipi nanga sukru lay
gowe fu trangaman,

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fu masra Jan, fu di en de na trangawan.

 

 

 

(Ma pasyensi, san fu du,

 

wan dey, masra Jan, yu tu,

 

yu tu sa tron srafu.

 

Moro trangawan lek' yu

 

sa tek' lefensi

 

fu Kwasiba èn Afi.)

Diaso ... Sranannengre libitori de. Leki fa Hollander e kari dati: in een notendop. A no de fanowdu fu tagi un taki wi libitori na wan fu sweti, brudu nanga watra-ay, dati un sabi nèt so bun leki wi, ya, a kan de moro betre srefi. 300 yari langa den afo fu wi ben tan na ondro na ebi katibo disi, sondro fu sabi wan dey payman. Now mi denki un sa kan ferstan taki so wan katibo, so wan ebi leki di a ben poti na wi tapu, no de fu puru na ini 86 yari. Meki wi luku ma na den Hollander, feyfi yari nomo den ben de na ondro wan katibo, di no kon na di fu wi bakafutu èn arki den, fa den e kragi fu san na katibo disi ben meki fu den pikin fu den.

Ma den no sidon e kragi nomo, ma na ala fasi den e broko den ede fu kweki den pikin fu den, fu puru den fasi di na feyfi yari katibo ben tyari gi den. We un leki Sranansuma di now mu tiri na kondre, wi denki taki a de un prekti, no fu kisi atibron fu den fowtu fu un masanengre, ma fu broko ede èn fu abi pasyensi nanga den, no fu dini den leki fa pori pikin wani fu den mama èn papa dini den, ma leki fa a fiti wan frustan papa di abi na prekti fu kweki en pikin.

Fu san ede wi e skrifi ala den sani disi? Fu di na ini na tori fu den yonkuman fu Srotweki sani taki, di ati wi leki Nengre. Meki wi no

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frigiti taki, na baka na ebi katibo libi, di ben koti, so leki fa den e taki, na 1863, no wan sortu muyti ben meki, fu kweki den afo fu wi fu tron leti borgru fu na kondre. Na baka na kontraki ten den lusu den na wey, libi den abra na den lot, ma dati no de ala ogri ete. Na moro bigi ogri, na moro bigi kruktu di den ben du na wi èn di e wroko te tide, dati de, dati fosi wi kisi wi srefi pikinso baka, den gi wi sani na anu, fu di wi no ben abi ferstan kweti kweti, fu kari na nen, wan koloniale Staten. Na presi fu lanti ben sorgu, awansi a ben de nanga tranga srefi, fu kweki wi, den gi wi skoro di kiri wi te tide. Meki ala suma ferstan wi bun, wi no de kondemi leri, ma wi e kondemi den skoro, na fasi fu na leri.

Fu bigin, den feti fu wi lasi wi mamatongo, fu wi frigiti wi eygi tongo, fu meki wi tron Hollander, wan sani di noyti no kan. Den afo fu wi, pôti, den no ben sabi betre, ben denki taki dati na a moro bigi bun di den ben kan du wi, ala di a ben de wi dede, te leki na dey fu tide, bika te now yu abi furu fu wi di no man fu ferstan taki wan pipel di no abi wan tongo, noyti kan de san di fiti na nen fu wan pipel. Efi wi teki wan skorobuku na anu, dan wi no e si noti na ini leki Holland-libitori, Holland sabana, Holland foto, Holland winti miri, Holland osolibi e.s.m.f. Nofotron yu kan yere suma e taki fa den skoro fu wi de so bun skoro, èn fu san ede den de so bun? Bikasi, te den pikin fu wi gowe na tra kondre den e feni bun wroko tangi fu na bun skoro di den kisi. Mi fu mi denki taki wan skoro, di e leri pikin fu go wroko gi wan tra kondre, libi na eygi kondre, meki a go na baka, mi no feni dati wan bun skoro. Mi no denki taki wan kondre de na grontapu, funamku wan kondre di no abi furu suma, di e ori skoro fu tra kondre prisiri. Sranan e du dati, fu di wi no kisi kweki. Suma ben mu gi wi na kweki? A ben de na prekti fu lanti, bikasi den suma di ben lasi wrokoman, di ben e wroko fu soso, noyti ben sa du dati, ibri wan suma kan ferstan dati. Furu yari na fesi, di den suma disi ben si taki sani de kon, tru tru, den Nengre ben e go kisi fri, den dwengi lanti na den foordeel. Den suku fu lanti seni teki tra suma, di ben kan wroko moro bunkopu, kon na a kondre. Dia na bigi fowtu, na bigi kruktu

[p. 156]

de di lanti du na den suma, di opo Sranan nanga den brudu, den sweti, den watra-ay. Tide ala suma e taki Nengre no wani meki gron, trawan e skrifi taki den no wani fu du dati, fu di a e memre den taki den grantata fu den ben de srafu. Now wi denki taki den lespeki masra fu na C.A.B., nanga nen masra Waller sabi nèt so bun leki mi taki furu furu fu den afo fu wi, na baka di na katibo koti, ben go meki gron na Sramacca, na Commewijne, na Cottica, sondro fu den ben abi yepi nanga moni ofu bun lay fu sabi san den mu du èn fa den mu libi.

Lanti libi den leki pikin di no abi papa ofu mama. Èn toku wi ala, mi denki un tu, mi lespeki masra fu na C.A.B. nanga nen masra Waller sabi fa den ben wroko den srefi kon na fesi. Efi den suma disi di no ben kisi no wan sortu yepi, ben kan lepi den srefi so, kaba tide den pikin pikin fu den gowe libi den gron, dan mi denki a musu abi wan oorzaak èn leki fa wi ben taki na ini no. 10 fu Foetoeboi, wan bun datra no e feti nanga ede-ati, ma a e suku fosi san e tyari na ede-ati. We, awansi den lespeki masra fu wi no de Nengre ofu no e firi den srefi Nengre, toku wi denki den de Sranansuma, den kumbatetey beri dya, den sabi Nengre libitori, den sabi na kruktu di pasa wi, wi denki pe leti de èn pe den kisi na kari fu tiri na kondre, den abi wan bigi prekti na wi Nengre, den abi na prekti, no fu fruferi gi den, ma leki bun datra, di sabi na oorsaak fu wi siki, fu broko ede feti nanga na siki nanga pasyensi, nanga lobi, nanga wan wortu fu meki bun san Hollander pori na wi.

Èn efi a mu de so taki den mu du wan extra sani gi Nengre di den no sa du gi tra ipi di de na ini na kondre, dan wi denki taki dati de nanga leti, bikasi san di wi ben taki na ini na nomru fosi disi, wi e taki dya baka: Sranan, ya eri Amerika abi wan payman na Nengre, di a no abi na no wan tra ipi fu na kondre.

Foetoe-boi, November 1949

Oen sa wani sabi, mi denki, san na wan yobonengre? Wan yobonengre na den sortu Nengre di bun ofu ogri no sabi wan tra sani fu piki leki yes yobo, yes.

Kwaku, Gado no fruku Nengre?

- Yes yobo, yes.

[p. 158]

Nengre no meki fu tan alaten na trawan ondro?

- Yes yobo, yes.

Te Nengre e lon fu go na fesi, tra Nengre no mu go lon frekti den futu, ari den fadon?

- Yes yobo, yes.

Den no mu tay Nengre anu nanga futu nanga ketin, srepi go na hemel?

- Yes yobo, yes.

Awansi den ketin e koti den, dat' n' a trobi?

- Yes yobo, yes.

Awansi na srepi e piri den skin, dat' n' a trobi?

- Yes yobo, yes.

Nengre no mu seri en famiri, en masanengre, en karakter?

- Yes yobo, yes.

Fu wan pikin nyanyan, wan pikin sopi ofu wan pikin piri tifi nanga den?

- Yes yobo, yes.

Ma tangi fu Gado, a no soso yobonengre de na grontapu...

Foetoe-boi no abi na wroko fu srepi Nengre nanga ketin go na hemel. Wi e du muyti fu seki den komopo na ini na dipi sribi di den de, meki nanga krin opo ay den kan si na hel di wi ala de na ini èn fu gi anu makandra feti komopo na ini. Wi e feti fu meki Nengre no lasi lespeki fu den srefi ofu fu makandra, fu wi no tron figi futu fu saka saka. Dati na wi wroko. Ofu na bun ofu ogri wi e du, dati wi no kan taki, dati no wan suma di de now kan taki. Den suma di sa de na wi baka, tentin tentin yari, na den wawan sa man krutu wan leti krutu. Bakra taki: De wereldgeschiedenis is het wereldgericht. Wi no e fruku no wan suma, wi no e kari wan suma satan. Suma du bun, na fu en, suma du ogri, na fu en.

Foetoe-boi, July 1952

Kondre fu sweti, watra-ay, brudu.
Doti pe wi fadon na gron,
pe wi kumba tetey beri.
Wi sabi taki yu mandi nanga yu pikin.
Wi sabi taki yu abi leti,
bigi leti fu mandi.
Wi sabi taki wi du ogri,
bigi ogri.

[p. 160]

 

 

 

 

Nanga wi du wi spiti na ini yu fesi,

 

mama fu sweti, watra-ay, brudu.

 

Wi sutu ala wi tu anu

 

dipi na ini doti, morsu, fisti,

 

fringi na wi srefi tapu,

 

gi yu bigi syen na ay fu eri grontapu.

 

Wi sabi yu kon weri nanga wi.

 

Yu lusu wi,

 

yu libi wi,

 

meki wi tron moro saka saka fu saka saka,

 

leki san wi de kaba.

 

Yu libi wi,

 

meki wi meki wi srefi frowa.

 

 

 

Yu libi wi gi grontapu

 

meki den spotu wi,

 

lafu wi,

 

dagu wi,

 

meki den spiti den moro fisti spiti na wi tapu,

 

aladi wi abi fu tapu wi mofo.

 

 

 

Bun mama Sranan,

 

doti fu sweti, watra-ay, brudu,

 

yere wi:

 

kaw wi no abi fu srakti gi yu,

 

brudu wi no de gi yu,

 

bika dati yu dringi nofo,

 

ma wan pikin kowru watra,

 

Gado alenwatra,

 

na ini wan nyun krabasi.

 

 

 

No fu wi srefi,

 

ma fu den pikin fu wi,

 

fu den suma

 

di de kon na wi baka.

 

Fu den wi de begi yu:

 

kowru yu ati,

 

no strafu den tu.

 

Den no du noti.

 

 

 

Efi den du,

 

dan na san den si wi du;

 

den spiti na ini yu fesi,

 

fu di den si wi du dati.

 

Den no abi lespeki fu den srefi,

[p. 162]

 

 

 

 

fu di wi no de teri yu.

 

Ala fowtu de na wi,

 

den bigi wan,

 

di kisi leri

 

nanga di no kisi.

 

 

 

Wi de nati yu fu den ede.

 

Bun mama,

 

doti fu sweti, watra-ay, brudu,

 

luku den pikin nanga den yongu suma.

 

Kibri den,

 

opo den ay,

 

krin den frustan,

 

meki den no waka

 

na wi futustapu baka,

 

gi den gusontu kabesa

 

fu den si,

 

taki na pasi di wi ben waka

 

de tyari go na ferdumenis,

 

meki den no waka en.

 

Bun mama,

 

gi den karakter,

 

meki den lespeki den srefi.

[p. 139]

Foetoe-boi, May 1946

Our land

That is not to say, the land that we own and where we have the say. By ‘our land’ we mean the land which is founded on the blood, sweat, and tears of our forefathers, the negroes who were brought from Africa, trapped like cockroaches in the beak of a chicken, to transform the impenetrable jungle into beautiful Surinam. All of us who are children's children of these negroes, and who want to admit that, let us with profound respect for our forefathers love our land first and foremost. Just as all other nations, even to the lowest ones, do. Each nation has in its own history unpleasant, ugly, and dirty periods, the one more than the other. That our forefathers were slaves is nothing to be ashamed of; they were not such of their own free will.

It is shameful when we forget our forefathers, when we trample on their blood, sweat, and tears. A people which rejects its history, forgets its forefathers, such a people will eventually become doormats. Let us join hands so that we don't become doormats!

Our language

That is not what they call negro-English or Negro tongue. Negro-English is that broken English which a negro speaks: ‘mi no no’ instead of ‘I don't know.’ The ‘Negro tongue’ is the language of all negroes. And that is not what our language is, for in Surinam alone the negroes in the interior have their own language.³ Our language is the Surinam negro language, that is, the language of most of the Surinam negroes. Just as you find in other languages words that are borrowed from others, so also in our language, but it isn't a broken variant of another language. It has its own manner, makes words in its own way.

A people that has neglected its language or lost it, or heaps insults on it for the sake of another language, whichever it may be, is more stupid than our forefathers, because they were wont to use the expression: ‘You can hide your grandmother, but you can't prevent

3 Koenders refers to the fact that even in Surinam negroes speak different languages: coastal Creole and several bushnegro tongues. The appellation negro tongue cannot be applied to coastal Creole exclusively.

[p. 141]

her from coughing.’ When, for the sake of maintaining yourself or purely for pleasure, you must learn a foreign language, see to it that you do it well. But this is no reason for despising or rejecting your own language.

Whatever you may say:
Things of others are not yours,
Abodes of others are not yours.
Show me where your own are.

Foetoe-boi, June 1946

A tale of slavery

As we have so often heard, our forefathers fled from the plantations and went into the jungle in order to be free. Thus was it with the slaves of Coronie. They took a boat and sailed to the mouth of the Nickerie River. There they waited for a good opportunity to cross the wide Corantijn River to the other bank, where they became free, because Berbice did not send them back to Surinam. That was one of the reasons why the jungles of Coronie and Nickerie never saw any maroons. But it did not always run smoothly. Often they were caught in Nickerie and sent back to Coronie. Therefore they arranged a meeting to see whether they could find an answer to this. Almost invariably schooners belonging to the plantation owners were moored near the shore. One day after sunset, when all was quiet, all those from the various plantations who had hatched the plot came to the shore and fled in a schooner. In order to prevent it from happening again, the owners put guards on board the schooners - soldiers with loaded guns. The negroes say: ‘The hunted is wary of the hunter.’⁴

At the time about which we are talking, a master in Coronie had a trusted valet named Philip, who had such pleasant manners that his master and others, as well as the other slaves, even the soldiers, loved and trusted him. One day Philip plotted with many others to find a way, soldiers or no soldiers, to capture one of the schooners and make a getaway in it. Because all the people loved Philip, and the whites harbored no suspicion against him, Philip, with the help of some others, took it upon himself to arrange the matter. They operated

4 The Creole proverb quoted here says literally: ‘The hunter promises the game, the game promises the hunter.’ ‘Promises’ must be interpreted as ‘promises to watch out for.’

[p. 143]

surreptitiously until the moment of action. The message was relayed by word of mouth: On this night, at that hour, at this place. On this day Philip performed his duties as usual, omitting nothing. When his master went to bed he accompanied him as far as the door. Then he bade him good night and turned round. No longer was Philip a valet but a commander of soldiers. Quickly he hastened to the shore, where he found everything under control. He took nine sturdy men in a shallop and rowed out to one of his master's schooners. Before they arrived, the guard spotted them, raised his gun, and shouted: ‘Hey there, who are you, what do you want?’ Philip replied, ‘Good people, it's me, Philip. We have come to do a little job.’

When the soldiers heard that it was Philip, they put down their guns and left them in peace, so they could board the schooner. The nine scattered, as had been agreed, while Philip kept the captain talking until he saw that everyone was in position. Then he gave the order: ‘Off and away!’ Before you could say ‘Jack Robinson,’ Philip knocked the captain to the deck. The sailors, who were also slaves, were in the plot as well. Together with the nine, they joined hands, bound the captain to the mast, bound the soldiers hand and foot, and left them lying on the deck. Then they hoisted the sail and departed for Demarara, where they arrived safely. On arrival they went to the government to tell their tale. They were allowed their freedom, and the captain and his soldiers returned to Coronie without the runaways to impart the news to Philip's master. Thus we see that Venezuela has its Urbina, but Surinam also has its Philip.

Somebody might perhaps say that Philip was a mean person, because he abused the confidence that his master and others had in him. That is true, but Philip is only human like everyone else. When a living soul fights for his freedom or life, then nobody gives a thought to these highfalutin principles. The Frenchman says, ‘A la guerre comme à la guerre.’ The negroes say, ‘All is fair in war.’ I think both have the same meaning. Frenchmen are human, negroes are human.

Foetoe-boi, July 1946

Our language

On Sranan neti⁵ M'Ma-B'be berated the fathers, mothers, and

5 Sranan neti (‘Surinamese evening’) was a performance organized annually on the evening of July 1 to commemorate the emancipation of the slaves.

[p. 145]

teachers of Surinamese children. She said that she would brook no exception, not even for master Koenders. They have seen to it that the children know about Andrew of Denmark while they don't even know who M'ma-B'be of No-mer-mi-kondre is.⁶ It's good to call a spade a spade, M'ma-B'be. As for master Koenders, you miss the boat by miles. When I was still a young teacher about twenty years old, I too was not devoid of such madness. But that was long ago. At school I stood in front of the children to teach them how to speak Dutch, because they had to learn how to speak that language. But never did it cross my mind to punish a child because he spoke his mother tongue. For forty years master Koenders has understood what the pig says: ‘Slop, slop, that which is yours is yours.’

For this reason I very often did not feel ashamed to ask a child who did not understand what he was reading to say it in Surinamese. M'ma-B'be, do you know what happened then? The children were amazed that I asked them such a thing, because at home they were taught you must not speak the negro language, as we then called Surinamese. But not for a moment did I pay any attention to what the children or their parents thought of this. Ever since my early thirties I have known what sort of knowledge parrot knowledge is, to wit: many words, only words, instead of comprehension. Do you understand what I am driving at, M'ma-B'be? Next time you should make an exception.

Now that I have the opportunity I shall use it to tell something to those who frequent Srananneti. It appears that many of you don't know what the real purpose of these Srananneti is. Listen carefully: Srananneti is Surinam language night, that is to say, it is an opportunity to show that our language is not that elevated, not that old, not that rich, but is still capable of doing what other languages are capable of. When people burst into laughter and applause at a Srananneti, then I know for sure that they know the reason for doing so. They comprehend what they hear. When the Srananneti were held in Dutch, then I knew for sure that many of the people who applauded were nothing but sheep: the one says ‘Baa!’ The other does not know why, but he answers ‘Baa!’

6 No-mer-mi-kondre (literally ‘Don't-touch-me country’) is a mythical land, situated somewhere near the capital, where it was possible for runaways to become invisible. Many stories circulate about the place.

[p. 147]

Foetoe-boi, February 1947

Curse?

There are people, negroes and others, who say that there is a curse on negroes. Is it true? Yes, it is so. There is a curse on very many negroes, but not on all of them. The curse resting on them is the stupid, insane belief they have that there is a curse on them. They have taken over this belief from the period of slavery, while others, later confirmed it. And that which one believes of oneself, be it good or evil, will also be true. I don't believe in a curse on the negro. And I have a deep compassion for negroes who harbor this belief. Why? Because this stupid, insane belief pulls them down, forces them to their knees, paralyzes their arms, blurs their vision, blocks their ears, clouds their thinking, crushes their spirit, and wrings out their soul.

One day a white leriman⁷ called together his congregation to discuss something with them. When one hears the word leriman, one will immediately know that this story is not of recent date, because at present there are none of them. But if there are people who prefer to think that the present story took place only in former times, then I feel sorry for them, because they're fooling themselves. Right up till today people regard negroes as children to whom one can say things that one would not dare say to other persons. Right until today there are many negroes who don't respect themselves, with the result that they accept with pleasure insults from people who don't take them au sérieux. If there are people who mistrust these stories, then I can assure them that I have dozens in my possession. Some of the people in question are dead; others are still alive. If necessary I can quote chapter and verse from their writings. Let us proceed further.

When the leriman had said what he wanted to say, the members of the congregation remained seated as mum as mice. Then one of them plucked up courage, got up, and spoke. But when the leriman saw he was steering an unsafe course he yelled at the negro: ‘That's enough. Shut up!’

7 The Moravian missionaries were formerly called leriman (‘teacher’). Later, when Creoles were also ordained, a difference was created between the title dominee or domri, for people who studied theology in Europe, and the title leriman, used for evangelists trained in Surinam. Koenders might have made this remark about the former title leriman with some ironic after thoughts.

[p. 149]

What did the negro do? He took his hat and went away saying: ‘You've called me to speak. If I can't speak, why should I stay?’ Then he left. What a man! Until today I have had respect for this negro, for he did not have that stupid, insane belief that there was a curse on him which caused him to lose his self-respect. And what did the others do? They started at once to talk behind his back, saying how arrogant he was, instead of doing what they should have done: get up, leave, and let the leriman be. Poor suckers, because they were imbued with the belief that there was a curse on them, they remained seated.

One day a priest delivered his opening sermon: ‘When the bishop called me and told me that he would send me to... When I realized that I was to go to... among those pigs, I went to my room and wept.’ What did the people do? They behaved like persons who believed that there was a curse on them. They kept on listening to the priest, and only when they had left the church did they tear him apart, behind his back. What should they have done, if they had any grain of self-respect? They should not have reviled him behind his back, but should have, one after the other, gotten up and left the priest and his church. And they should not have set foot in the church again until the bishop had sent them another priest.

If negroes would behave thus, if they would educate their children in this way, saying that you must grant everyone that which is his but must not allow anyone to treat you like a dog, not even if he is a white man, or a priest, or a leriman, then today this belief in a curse on the negro, that there is nothing good in negroes, that they can't do anything, that they are born to be lorded over would not exist. The curse rests on those negroes who speak in this way, because they firmly believe that there is a curse on them. I have already told you what this stupid, insane belief has done to us. One of the evil things this belief does is to cloud our thinking. If a Negro does not want to do that which will help him to make headway, but does the very same for another so that he makes headway, then the thinking of this negro is really clouded.

Negro countrymen, I plead with you, for God's sake, cast this belief into the fire, take the ashes and throw them into the river. Only that can cause your legs to stand firm, free your arms, straighten your backs, open your eyes and ears, unclog your minds. In one word, transform yourself into a man of character who respects himself. If you don't respect yourself, others will never do it.

[p. 151]

Foetoe-boi, March 1949

Mother Africa weeps for her children

Wither are they, all of them?
Amba, Kwami, and Kodyo -⁸
far from home, far across the sea,
they lift their eyes, search for their huts.

Powerful ones have snatched them away,
Mighty ones have stolen them all,
stacked them like herrings
in the darkness of the ships, making way
across the sea, far away,
so that they would slave night and day.

Huge forests, mighty trees,
Yaw is now forced to fell.
Kwami digs ditch and trench,
that the powerful ones may be rich,
that the forest become Surinam.

Ajuba thrashes the cane,⁹
though she itches so.
There's no time to scratch, for a servant of the powerful ones
stands with a long whip there!

Tubs filled with coffee
by Akuba and Afi.
They must wash: weak and famished.
They must wash, scrub clean all the tubs.

Coffee, cotton, and sugarcane
they must plant,
not for themselves.
Ships for the powerful ones
loaded with sugar leave.

8 Koenders here uses the so-called ‘day names,’ which are still used in Surinam. The child gets a name according to its sex and the day of the week on which it was born. The names match those of such Gold Coast languages as Twi and Ewe. For instance, a girl born on Saturday is called Amba, a boy born on the same day is called Kwami. See Encyclopaedie, s.v. Naamgeving.

9 The word for thrash is creolized to trasi. There is a slight possibility that Koenders uses an old word drasi for the English dross. We failed to find this word in the dictionaries.

[p. 153]

 

 

 

 

Alas for Master John, for power does he have.

 

[But have patience, there's nothing one can do,

 

One day Master John, even you, even you

 

will be a slave.

 

Stronger ones

 

will take revenge

 

for Kwasiba and Afi.]¹⁰

Here is the history of Surinam negroes, according to Dutchmen, in a nutshell. It is not necessary to tell you that our history is one of blood, sweat, and tears. You know that as well as I do, and maybe even better. For three hundred years our forefathers suffered under this heavy slavery without seeing a day's wages. I think you will understand that such slavery, such a burden which has weighed us down, cannot be wiped out in eighty-six years. Let us but look at the Dutch. For only five years they lived under a form of slavery which does not even bear any comparison to ours. And listen how they complained about this slavery and what it had done to their children.¹¹

Not only did they complain, but in various ways they took the trouble to educate their children in order to wipe out the mentality that five years of slavery had inculcated in them. Well now, you Surinamese who must now govern the land, it is your duty, so we think, not to take exception to the shortcomings of your countrymen, but to take up responsibility for them and to have patience with them: not to serve them as spoilt children would want their mother and father to do, but as befits a sensible father who has the responsibility of educating his child.

Why do we write all this? Because things have been said about the young men of Slootwijk which caused us as negroes pain.¹² Let us not

10 This poem by Koenders was translated into German and published in the German anthology Schwarzer Orpheus by Jahn-Heinz John (1954). Koenders added some final lines after 1949, which he published in Foetoe-boi, March 1955. They are added here between brackets.

11 Koenders refers to the German occupation of Holland during the Second World War.

12 Slootwijk was an agricultural project intended to counter the growing urbanization, especially of Creoles. The first Surinam government, the newly appointed CAB (Committee for General Affairs), wanted to bring Creoles back to agriculture. The project failed, and the Creoles were blamed.
In this article Koenders tries to analyze the failure in a more comprehensive way.

[p. 155]

forget that after the heavy period of slavery, which as people maintain came to an end in 1863, no attempt was made to educate our forefathers to become full-fledged citizens of this land. After their contract period they were sent packing and abandoned to their fate. But that was not even the worst that befell us. The worst, the most abominable they did to us, which even to this day shows its effects, is that before we found our feet they entrusted us with things of which we had not the foggiest notion, namely, a mock parliament. Instead of the government taking care that we receive an education, they provided us with schools which to this very day kill us. Let each and every one know this: we don't condemn the education, but we condemn the schools, the teaching methods.

To begin with, they tried to make us lose our mother tongue, forget our very own language, turn us into Dutchmen, something which is impossible. Our forefathers, however, didn't know better and thought that that was the best they could do for us. In effect it rang the deathknell for us right up till this very day, because at present there are many who don't understand that a nation without a language can never be anything which is worthy of the name nation. When we pick up a schoolbook, we find nothing but Dutch history, Dutch meadows, Dutch cities, Dutch windmills, Dutch domestic life, and so on. Often persons are heard to say that our schools are good. And why are they so good? Because our children, when they go to other countries, are able to secure good jobs thanks to the good schooling they have had. I think however that a school which teaches the children to go and work for other countries, to leave their own country so that it falls into decay, is not a good school. In my opinion, there is no country in the world, especially not one with such a sparse population, which keeps a school going for the benefit of another country. That is what Surinam is doing, because we have not had any education. Who should have given us this education? That was the government's duty, for everyone will understand that those persons who had lost laborers who were toiling for nothing could never have done it.¹³ Many years ago when these people realized that things were really happening, that the negroes would have their freedom, they forced the government to tip the scales in their favor. They tried to get other people into the country who would provide cheap labor.¹⁴ Here lies the big fault, the great injustice which the govern-

13 Meaning the former slave owners just after emancipation.

14 Koenders here refers to the Asian immigrants who were imported under contract as cheap laborers.

[p. 157]

[naar origineel]

ment did to those people who opened up Surinam with their blood, sweat, and tears. Nowadays everyone says that negroes don't want to work on the land. Others allege that they don't want to do that because they don't want to be reminded that their forefathers were slaves. We, however, are of the opinion that the respected gentlemen of the C.A.B., and especially Mr. Waller, know as well as I do that very many of our forefathers worked on the land in Saramacca, in Commewijne, and in Cottica after the period of slavery without any help and money or good advice as to what to do and how to live.

The government abandoned them to their fate like children who have no father or mother. And yet we all know, even you I think, respected gentlemen, and especially Mr. Waller, how they have worked themselves up. If these people who received no help whatsoever could fend so well for themselves, and if today their grandchildren leave the agricultural lands, then in my opinion there's a reason for it. And as we have already stated in Foetoe-boi number ten, a good doctor does not fight against a headache, but tries to establish what causes the headache. Well, although our respected gentlemen do not feel themselves negroes, we think that they are at least Surinamese. Their umbilical cords are buried here. They know the history of the negro. They know the injustice which has befallen us. We think that where there is justice and where they have received the call to govern the country they have a great duty toward us negroes - a duty not to lose patience with them, but like a good doctor who knows the causes of our illness to be concerned and to combat the illness with patience, with love, in a word, to set right what the Dutch have messed up.

And if it should mean that they would have to do something extra for negroes, which they would not do for others who live in the country, then we think it is only meet and right, for what we have said in the first issue we say once more: Surinam and the whole of America owe a debt to the negro which they don't owe any other group.

Foetoe-boi, November 1949

You may want to know, I think, what an Uncle Tom is. An Uncle Tom is a person who, good or bad, knows no other way of behaving than saying: ‘Yes, boss, yes.’

‘Kwaku, has God not damned the negroes?’

‘Yes, boss, yes.’

[p. 159]

‘When negroes make progress, then the other negroes must grab hold of their feet and drag them down.’

‘Yes, boss, yes.’

‘Must one not tie the negroes hand and foot and drag them off to heaven?’

‘Yes, boss, yes.’

‘Even if the chains cut into their flesh, it doesn't matter.’

‘Yes, boss, yes.’

‘Must the negroes not sell their family, their associates, their character?’

‘Yes, boss, yes.’

‘For some food, for a glass of wine or a wee smile from them?’

‘Yes, boss, yes.’

But, thanks be to God, there are not only Uncle Toms in this world.

Foetoe-boi does not have as its task to drag the negroes off to heaven in chains. We try to jostle them from their deep sleep to see with clear eyes the hell in which all of us find ourselves, so that we can join hands and wrest ourselves from it. We fight so that the negroes shall not lose their self-respect or their respect for each other, so that we shall not become the doormat of the dregs. That is our task. Whether we do good or whether we do evil, we cannot tell. Nobody who lives at present can say that. The people who come some decades after us, they will be able to judge. The white man says: ‘History will tell.’ We curse nobody, we call nobody Satan. He who does good, it is his business; he who does evil, it is his business.

Foetoe-boi, July 1952

Surinam ¹⁵

Land of sweat, tears, blood.
Earth on which we descended,
where our umbilical lies buried.
We know that you hold it against your children.
We know that you are right,
very right, to be so vexed.
We know that we have perpetrated harm,
great harm.

15 In our opinion Koenders is not an original poet, although he produced some remarkable translations of Dutch poems in Sranan. He was a very modest man, with a low opinion of his own poetic abilities. His article ‘Sranan,’ however, which he reprinted in Foetoe-boi, June 1955, has highly poetic qualities. H.F. de Ziel, the poet Trefossa, mentioned this to us and arranged the article in the way it has been published here.

[p. 161]

 

 

 

 

With our deeds we have spat in your face.

 

Mother of sweat, tears, blood.

 

Both our hands we've pushed

 

deep down into the earth's dirt and slush,

 

flung upon us,

 

debasing you in the eyes of the whole world.

 

We know that you are weary of us.

 

You have left us alone,

 

forsaken us,

 

so that we've become even viler

 

than we already were.

 

You have forsaken us

 

so that we have turned ourselves to chaff.

 

 

 

You have abandoned us in the world

 

so that it can have fun with us,

 

laugh at us,

 

treat us like a dog,

 

spew the vilest spittle on us,

 

while we had to keep our tongues.

 

 

 

Good Mother Surinam,

 

earth of sweat, tears, blood,

 

hear us:

 

We have no cows to slaughter,

 

blood we do not give,

 

for you have drunk your fill of it.

 

But a little bit of water cold,

 

rain water of God,

 

in a new calabash.

 

 

 

Not for ourselves,

 

but for our children,

 

for them

 

who come after us.

 

In their name we plead with you:

 

harden not your heart,

 

chastise them not,

 

they have done naught.

 

 

 

If they are at fault,

 

then it is what they have seen us do.

 

They spat in your face, because they saw us do so.

 

They respected not themselves,

[p. 163]

 

 

 

 

because you did not count with us.

 

All guilt devolves on us,

 

the elders,

 

those who had schooling,

 

and those who had none.

 

 

 

We sprinkle¹⁶ you in their name.

 

Good Mother,

 

earth of sweat, tears, blood,

 

Behold the children and the youth.

 

Protect them,

 

Open their eyes,

 

Illuminate their brains.

 

Let them not follow

 

in our wake.

 

Grant them sound minds

 

so that they see

 

the path that we have trod

 

leads but to purgatory.

 

Let them not walk it.

 

Good Mother,

 

give them character,

 

let them respect themselves.

16 Water is sprinkled on the earth in a ritual ceremony to honor and appease the earth mother.