I came to this material realm and was allowed to grow up in paradise for the first years of my life. Nature was abundant and generous, a caress to the eye and a treat to human needs. There were delicious edible fruits and herbs, roots, fish and game. We had few of the comforts that the affluent western world seems to be attached and addicted to. We had no electricity, no running water, one small radio that produced static noise most of the time, no TV, no telephone, no car etc. We didn't need any of that, nor did we long for it.

The beach - near where I lived

We had the beach - a mildly sloped, wide zone of white, fine grained sand that marked the border between the land and the sea that was filled with crystal clear water that allowed to see all creatures living in the water and on the sea bed up to the coral reef where it was approximately 6 metres deep. Beyond the reef the sea suddenly turned pitch black because of its immeasurable depth. There large silvery Tuna fish jumped out of the water on their journey to other venues in the vast ocean.


The local people would hunt them, chasing the rapidly moving schools of big fish in their sleek boats they called prahus that had stabilizer bars attached to them on the side with long thin poles - early forms of catamarans or trimarans. The sleek boats were powered by Johnson, Evinrude or Mercury outboard engines and reached incredible speeds. One would stand on the bow and shoot a Tuna with a rifle when it hovered in mid air above sea level during a jump. When they caught one they returned home and the entire village ate from the Tuna for a couple of days. No hunting during that time.

Young boys like me would fish from the harbour pier, using a twig to which a few meters of twine would be attached and a hook made from a needle of a sowing kit or a piece of bent metal wire. Since we could see the fish in the clear water, we would lift our hooks out of the water if a fish we did not want to eat, moved in to swallow the bait, which was usually a piece of banana. When we saw a fish that tasted good, we would cast the bait towards it and most if the time caught it. We would then roast our catch on a fire on the beach and continue to swim or play after we had enough to eat.

Then there was the river. We were told as kids to always play in the river in a spot from where we could see the mountain where the well of the river was located. If clouds accumulated around the mountain top, we were told to leave immediately. It was a sure sign that rain was going to fall that would change the calm river into a raging avalanche of water within minutes. After the torrential rains had ceased we would have to search for the river that had often carved a different course through the woods, snapping trees as if they were twigs and moving large boulders for miles. We searched for the new path of the river by trying to hear the sound of flowing water.

The rough, pristine state of nature fascinated us. Each day was full of adventures in which we discovered new things that we had not noticed before or presented us with displays of a grandeur that never ceased to intrigue and amaze us. The forests gave us more than we could eat because it simply grew back things faster than we could digest. We admired and respected nature and were unable to imagine a life without it.

Christian Herter - Soekarno - Joseph Luns.

But elsewhere on the globe, in heads that had become infected by the greed ridden mindset of modern western civilizations, plans were made to turn earth into a quick and dirty money machine for those living in the high echelons of this physical domain.

The Netherlands (more in particular Minister of Foreign Affairs, Mr. Joseph Luns) wasn't prepared to give up its colony New-Guinea to Indonesia, because he knew the Dutch colony harboured one of the biggest gold mines on the planet: The Grasberg gold mine. Due to the inadequate state of development of mining machinery, Holland had not yet been able to mine the gold (and copper). However JFK and Soekarno (controller of the global clateral accounts) worked on a deal that was intended to affect the entire world behind the scenes - The Green Hilton Agreement. So the Dutch quickly succumbed to the 'persuation' of the US, urging them to surrender their colony to Indonesia. So Indonesia got New-Guinea, the US got the goldmine and Holland got zilch. Well, they had plundered Indonesia for three centuries, so this deal sort of evened out the looting by and between the plundering western powers in that region of the world. To this day massive amounts of gold (and copper) are mined from the same subterranean gold vein i.e. The Freeport mine. The Dutch had not started mining back in the day - due to logistic problems that the technical possibilities of those days were unable to resolve; the gold was contained inside a rather high mountain - but many governments were well aware of the great potential of the site and it was just a matter of time before New-Guinea's resources would be pillaged.

The paradise like setting of my land of birth was soon to be terminated brutally. We were totally unaware of the preparations of these plans. The island village was secretly divided in two factions; one was lead by the Local Dutch governor who aimed to perpetuate colonial rule and the other was directed by the local baker who was in fact a spy for the Indonesian government that aimed to conquer the former Dutch colony and bring it under Indonesian command.

I understand the Indonesian aversion against the Dutch who had plundered and abused the land for so long. Colonialism merely is a label invented by politics that actually means boundless exploitation of a foreign country on all levels in unrestricted ways. It is the nature of western imperialistic thinking in its corporate ranks. The consequences were often devastating and humiliating particularly for the common Indonesian people. But after World War II Indonesia went ahead and decided to practice some colonialism of its own after it occupied the Dutch colony New-Guinea.

We were bombed out of this beautiful land and were ordered to move to Holland (because we had Dutch passports) by the Dutch government that could not afford to become involved in an international scandal by abandoning the mixed-blood workforce that they spawned to control their colonial affairs. Western powers were ruthless in exploiting their colonies, but pretended to be cordial and humane when the world's attention was focused on their conduct. After arrival in Holland most of us were dumped in shabby pensions and hotels where we were left to figure out how to not die. Very unlike the recent (economic) 'fugitives' that are pampered and sponsored by corrupt left wing elements in the Dutch government that used to not give a rats ass about previous generations of real fugitives, cutting budgets intended to support vulnerable groups in society and needy, old native Dutch people that are ruthlessly taxed into poverty to pay for their pretended hospitability towards hordes of fake fugitives. The older immigrant generation suffered from a culture shock and the young ones became frustrated by the dire living conditions they were cast into, after having become accustomed to the somewhat privileged existence, colonial leadership granted the people of mixed blood that they used to run their shady, but profitable dealings.

Ex-colonials crammed in crummy Dutch pensions.

A fellow victim of Dutch colonial organized plundering, who through hard labour had established three companies, was forbidden to return to New-Guinea to save assets and funds when Indonesia threatened to invade, while he was on a business trip to Holland. He was never compensated for his loss. Funds accumulated through labour in colonial times were simply indemnified. Many families were kept in 4 x 4 meter pension rooms for years not receiving any form of assistance from the indifferent Dutch government whatsoever that they had conscientiously been serving during the colonial days. Diplomas and certificates obtained during the colonial regime were not honoured, which meant that years of study and experience were considered to be worthless and were rewarded as such in the country they were forced to migrate to. Apart from the fact that the local white population wasn't always particularly friendly towards the brown skinned immigrants, the harassment by bureaucrats frustrated the involuntary immigrants.

Still, the ex-colonials were better off than the local people of New-Guinea - the Papuans - whose country the Indonesian government renamed to Irian Jaya after it was added to the Indonesian Federation. The indigenous people were abused and massacred by occupying forces, while the rats of the world's mainstream press intentionally ignored their horrible fate, so that the corrupt politicians wouldn't be forced to explain and justify their genocidal policies. Between 150,000 and 400,000 Papuan people were killed since Indonesia annexed former Dutch New-Guinea (not that I think that figures presented by the commonly corrupt Wikipedia are trustworthy, while other significant studies were removed from the Internet). A different source (page 148 - University of Wollongong) writes that 500,000 West-Papuan people (the equivalent of the population of the city of The Hague in its entirety) were killed in a 'slow motion genocide' since 1962, which are numbers of fatalities confirmed by other sources. The University of Sydney estimates over 100,000 Papuans were killed by Indonesian army and police. Furthermore the 'Act of free choice' of August 2 1969 - which supposedly offered Papuans the choice to remain in the Indonesian federation or become independent - is totally ignored by the global community, including the treacherous and utterly corrupt United Nations.

As a kid I often played with Papuan boys. I have come to know the Papuans as a cheerful and straight forward people. They were physically very strong and lived in harmony with nature. It breaks my heart to learn of their horrendous situation, that is agonizing and an absolute and utter insult to human rights and human dignity. The entire world population bears guilt for not reporting the genocide, ignoring records that seep into the public domain in spite of attempts to censure all reports on post-colonial former Dutch New-Guinea and for not taking proper action against the inhumane atrocities perpatrated by Indonesian army and police. And the West-Papuans are not the only people that suffer such an unprovoked and terrible fate, which makes the ignoring and denying of the genocide of Papuan people in the West even worse. The willful ignorance and indifference of today's world population concerning the fate of those who are opressed, abused and exploited will go down in history as despicable, disgraceful conduct.

Pentjak Silat martial art - Setia Hati style which means True Heart.

After being frustrated by the always denied and covered up Dutch hostility towards their newly gained compatriots, many young immigrants, who practiced martial arts, particularly different styles of Pentjak-Silat, gathered in street gangs to compensate the imposed sense of inferiority by exterior forces that thought we were just a pain in the neck. The type of forces that fear large, well organised groups that embrace views conflicting with theirs. Such groups are structurally monitored and obstructed by powers that be. Although considered to be second rate citizens, we did qualify to serve in the Dutch armed forces, the navy in my case. After mandatory military service had been fulfilled, I started to work for various companies, all of which were multi-nationals, where I gradually discovered the deep rooted and covert corruption in the ranks of authority that run society (from behind the veil). My father used to write poetry, often to balance the shameless injustice (shrewdly legalised) man-made systems perpetually dissipate that he encountered, but I never quite understood the beauty of the art until the mid nineties of the previous century. Long after he had passed away, I regret to say. I participated in a number of poetry sites, but at some point decided that sharing my poetry in this blog would allow me to write whatever I want, without being harassed by the utterly annoying and bonkers in-crowd that bullies other users in most poetry sites. It probably is human nature to steal a position of power and make life miserable for other people in order to be able to obtain some twisted form of superiority, which in the case of the bullies in poetry sites is worth less than a fart in the wind.

This blog from a certain perspective is perhaps a tribute to my dad, who got himself in trouble often, because he was unable to live with injustice. Knowing that opposing the lawless and corrupt would not make things easy, he remained true to himself, honouring sincerity and compassion. It felt as if he knew that all the discomfort and grief of life on this planet is transient - a sad and cynical joke in a universal setting that is destined to be erased from existence and memory not even leaving a trace of any sort in places and times ahead. How I believe such matters may come about, you can read in my other blog.

1 comment: