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 that is. 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 places in the vast ocean.


The local people would hunt them, chasing the rapidly moving schools of big fish in their sleek boats they called prahu's 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 would fish from the harbour pier, using a branch 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 they could see the fish in the clear water, they would lift their hooks out of the water if a fish they did not want to eat moved in to swallow the bate, which was usually a piece of banana. They would roast their catch on a fire on the beach and continue to swim or play after they had enough to eat.

Then there was the river. We were told as kids to always play in the river in a place from where we could see the mountain where the well of the river was located. If clouds accumulated around the mountain top, we had to leave immediately. It was a sure sign that rain was going to fall that would change the calm river into a raging stream 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, breaking trees and moving large boulders for miles.

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 chop. 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 soiled with 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 realm.

The Netherlands (more in particular Minister of Foreign Affairs, Mr. Joseph Luns) wasn't prepared to give up its colony because he knew it harboured one of the biggest gold mines on the planet: The Grasberg gold mine. However JFK and Soekarno 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 balanced the looting of that region. 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; the gold was contained inside a rather high mountain - but governments were well aware of the great potential of the site.

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 three centuries. Colonialism is a label for boundless exploitation on all levels in unrestricted ways. It is the nature of the western imperialistic thinking in the corporate world. 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 Dutch 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 colony. Most of us were dumped in shabby pensions and hotels where we were left to figure out how to not die. The older 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 affairs.

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 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 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.

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 brutally massacred by occupying forces, while the rats of the world's mainstream press intentionally ignored their horrible fate, so that the corrupt politicians weren't forced to explain things no one can justify. 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 Wikipedia are trustworthy, but other significant studies were removed from the Internet). An other source (page 148 - University of Wollongong) writes that 500,000 West-Papuan people (the equivalent of the city of The Hague massacred in its entirety) were killed since 1962. Furthermore the 'Act of free choice' of August 2 1969 - remaining in the Indonesian federation or becoming independent - is totally ignored and trampled by the global community, including the corrupt UN. As a kid I often played with Papuan boys. I have come to know the Papuans as a straight forward people. They were very strong and living in harmony with nature. It breaks my heart to learn of their horrendous current 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 anyway and for not taking proper action against this disgraceful atrocity. And the West-Papuans are not the only people that suffer such an unprovoked and terrible fate, which makes things even worse.

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

After being frustrated by the always conveniently denied Dutch hostility, many young immigrants, who practiced martial arts, gathered in street gangs. 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 multi-nationals, where I was gradually introduced to the deep rooted corruption in factions of authority that run society from behind the veil. My father used to write poetry, maybe to balance the shameless injustice man-made systems perpetually dissipate, 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 bothered by the utterly annoying 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 live a comfortable life at the expense of others.

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 out of line joke in a universal setting that is destined to be erased from existence and memory not even leaving a shred of evidence of any sort in times ahead. How this may come about, you can read in my other blog.

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