MONDONGO: A SYMPOSIUM ON THE PERCEPTION AND OWNERSHIP OF THE DUTCH LANGUAGE
Positions is the ongoing program of Stroom Den Haag showcasing contemporary art practices in The Hague. With Positions: Afterlives, Stroom introduces a new series of events that focuses on the manifold ways in which colonial histories are experienced in the present. The year 2023 marks the 150-year anniversary of the abolition of slavery by the Dutch state in its former colonies. While this is often seen as a historic event that neatly ended legalised injustices, the program invites artistic perspectives that point to the ever- reverberating shapes of this past: its afterlives. The participating artists present imaginations of the impact felt today by the laws and legacies of the past. How do they affect our current lives, archives, languages and senses of belonging? With Sarojini Lewis, Travis Geertruida, Sabine Groenewegen and Ruben Lacruz.
I hosted this symposium for the second event in the Positions: Afterlives series. In Papiamentu ‘mondongo’ means intestines and bellies of cattle and pigs. With this title I want to refer to the inner being. Maybe not the soul but the gut. That which fuels us and lives deep within. Through this symposium I want to bring what lies deep in the inner to light, and give it new life. - It is what I need to finally make peace with the language this kingdom casted upon me.
Pictures by Dana LaMonda, courtesy Stroom Den Haag | Positions Afterlives | Stroom Den Haag (2024)
-Excerpt from the introduction text of the Symposium-
(1) Apologue: Conquered
They came to her shores uninvited. They cleared her fields of native grass and planted the trees they wanted to see. They shaped her into their image. And all her creatures were catalogued, classified and given their ‘proper’ roles.
There were the hoofed creatures, the belly crawlers, the ocean dwellers, the insects, and the birds. The hoofed creatures were put to work. The belly crawlers and the ocean dwellers were hunted for food. The insects were crushed and used as medicine. But we birds were mostly spared, so long as we were beautiful and sang. To them, we were entertainment — beautiful things to enjoy.
This was their world now, so we had to sing their songs. Our tongues were twisted, our mouths reshaped to mimic the tunes that pleased their ears. If we faltered, we were deemed lesser, unlearned, onbeschaafd — uncivilized.
Unpleasant birds are not to be kept. They are to be kicked out of the garden — or stoned to death. The most desirable birds are kept in viewing cages. No longer ailed by aimless flight and flutter, instead properly sequestered for distinguished recitals for the proper men.
So we learned to keep quiet. Soon, the land fell still. Only a few birds — those already caged — dared to sing. They knew how to land the accent just right.
This is how we all lived for many years:
Hoofed creatures hard at work, the crawlers and fish dwindling, the bugs swatted without care, the birds in cages — and not a single local song to be heard.
Even I was eventually captured, and kept as a pet.
Until one day, a bird broke free.
She flew to the highest mountain, where no stone could reach her. There, she sang — not in perfect tune, not in a single tongue — but in a wild, beautiful medley of foreign and local sounds. She wove them together, mistakes and all.
Many stones were thrown, but they could not knock her down. They were forced to listen.
Her song spread across the country, bringing hope to those stuck in roles they never chose, and a new perspective to those trapped in cages of their own making.
St Christoffelberg, Curaçao
Picture by Elvis Chen