DichtLicht op het verleden / the Alfons family

The third family story in the series is that of the Moluccan Alfons family. On view from February 2 to February 16.

The story of the Alfons family

Stefan Alfons (1962): “My father never spoke much and we saw him little. He was always working to earn money for us, first at Chinese-Indian restaurants and later in the factory. My mother raised the five of us. He passed away in 1983. I still miss him. I can still see him before me, he was sitting at the table, writing something for the church with a cup of tea or he was reading a letter from his brother. He had another brother on Ambon and when another blue airmail letter came, I saw his look which I did not understand then. Now I know it was a look of mixed feelings. Joy, sadness, curiosity and concern. On March 21, 2021, the Moluccans celebrated their 70th birthday in the Netherlands. Then all that emotion came up again: we were only going to stay a few months, weren't we?

     “My parents came to the Netherlands from the Moluccas in 1951, my mother and her parents on ‘Kota Inten’, the first boat, my father on ‘Roma’. My grandfather and my father were in service with the Royal Dutch East Indies Army (KNIL) and fought on the Dutch side during the Police Actions in 1947 and 1948 against Indonesia. My father was very royalist and chose to join the KNIL. He was only sixteen; he had adopted his brother's date of birth. When Indonesia became independent, the Dutch left the country and the Moluccan soldiers were not allowed to return to their own island. I think both the Dutch and Indonesian governments were afraid that, well-trained as they were, they would go there to fight for their own state Republik Maluku Salatan (RMS). On April 25, 1950, Dr. Soumokil proclaimed the RMS. In that period, the KNIL soldiers in Indonesia were considered traitors because they were pro-Dutch. The Netherlands gave the order: either you stay here, with the risk that you will be arrested and shot, or you will go to the Netherlands temporarily. Most chose that.

     “Once in the Netherlands, my father, like all other Moluccan soldiers, is discharged from the army by the queen for whom he had fought. Eventually he ended up in Nuis. My mother in the former Schattenberg concentration camp. Of course my father – and his whole generation – is very disappointed, angry. In his eyes I saw helplessness about the situation. I can well imagine that my father thought: I don't want anything to do with those Dutch anymore, they can't be trusted. I think his unconditional love for my mother kept him going. He had to go to a lot of trouble to get her! They got married secretly because my grandparents were against it.

     “Around March 2021 I saw that a liberation festival would be organized in Groningen. That raised the question in my mind: what is freedom for me and my people? Because we are still oppressed, also on Ambon. So then I asked the director Ebel-Jan van Dijk if he would consider letting me tell my story about what freedom means for the Moluccan. That was possible, and together with Roger Goudsmit and many others we have put together a beautiful production. Buka Jalan, the name that eventually got it, means 'open the way'. Over the years I have learned that the freedom you are supposedly looking for is already within you. You don't need recognition from the other person to know your own worth. To feel free. The space for this is created by understanding: from understanding I am more open to the other. With Buka Jalan I wanted to make a breach in opening and understanding; I wanted to point out why we are here, show respect to our parents, pay tribute to our mothers and put a heart to our children. Sharing this story and claiming visibility for it: from there we can create a society in which we are open to each other.”

Text: Ruby de Vos