by Henk ter Heide on Tuesday December 27, 2011
This is a comment on a story on Slate.com about the apparent racial content
of the Dutch Sinter Klaas holiday.
“Allochtoon” does mean foreigner.
The reason that we call them foreigners is because that is what they call themselves.
If you ask a 8 year old Moroccan boy where he’s from. He won’t tell you that he’s born
in Utrecht or Amsterdam, but that he is from Morocco.
Although he’ll probably only knows the country from a few holidays.
Forty years ago we used to call people from Morocco and the likes “guest workers”.
But they never returned to their own country, so clearly they weren’t.
Instead they stayed to enjoy our health plans, unemployment benefits and pensions.
Although some Dutch people complained, the majority didn’t mind.
Nor did we mind that they continued to speak their own language and adhere by their
own religion and follow their own religious holidays.
Some ten, fifteen years ago head coverings started showing up in the Dutch streets.
And although it caused some annoyance, most people didn’t mind.
But you have to draw the line somewhere.
A few years back there was talk of demolishing the Christmas holidays in favor of the
sugar feast.
It never happened. But for the first time the Dutch people got the feeling that our
culture was under attack.
Now foreigners are complaining that the Sinter Klaas holiday is racist.
It might be.
But that’s not the point.
It’s our holiday. Part of our cultural heritage.
We, the Dutch people, are getting the ever stronger feeling that if those foreigners
really hate our culture that much, they should go back to where they came from.
But of course they won’t.
Where else could they enjoy a lifestyle that is as good as what they get in the
Netherlands?
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by Henk ter Heide on Friday May 1, 2009
…usually we celebrate Queensday by… I wrote yesterday afternoon. Then I realized that we always celebrate Queensday in the same manner and I remove the word “usually”. Selected a few music video and art sites to tweet later that evening. Washed a few dishes and left my house to go down town for the celebrations.
On my way out of my apartment building I ran into a neighbor who asked me whether I had seen what was happening on televion, the attack on our queen. Although he was clearly very serious I had trouble not bursting into laughter because what he was telling me couldn’t be true.
Things like that don’t happen in the Netherlands.
But the driver of the bus I took into town also told me about the attack on the queen. Apparently someone drove into the crowd, killing and wounding several people and just missing the bus with the queen by a few dozen feet.
Although he didn’t know whether it was an accident or deliberate we both agreed that it had to be an accident because things like that don’t happen in the Netherlands.
By the time I reached my favorite bar the television was telling that the police was sure that this was a deliberate attack and most of the smaller towns and villages in the Netherlands where canceling their celebrations. The larger towns didn’t but mainly to prevent getting problems with the hundred of thousands of people that flog to big cities on Queensday.
Today newspapers are wondering what kind of influence this will have on the future of the Queensday celebrations and on the future of the Netherlands as a whole.
Eight years ago when the planes flew into the Twin Towers my country men and I felt relatively save. We couldn’t imagine that something like that could ever happen in the Netherlands because we don’t matter that much in the great schemes of things. And we don’t have that kind of nutjobs in the Netherlands.
But clearly we where wrong!
The narrator is talking about the route the bus is going to take when the car hits the monument. The narrator is clearly surprised about what is happening and about the people that are laying on the ground: Oh, a cars drives into the monument… what is this…? there are people laying on the ground… the royal family is shocked…. Is this an accident or deliberate…?
The journalist says ….someone hit by…. People are yelling go away, quickly go away…. …behind the fence…
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by Henk ter Heide on Tuesday November 20, 2007
It’s difficult to judge how long you’ve been suffering from phobias if you’ve never been able to recognize your feelings. But judging by the types of behavior I’m learning to recognize it must be for years.
When I started with drawing at the beginning of this year I figured that I would learn a lot. But I didn’t figure I would learn more about myself then about drawing. (Although I might still become quite good at drawing 
)
The last few weeks I’ve been reading and working out off the book “Drawing with the right side of the brain” and it works. Doing the exercises seem to have made it possible for me to use the right side of my brain much more then I have the last 30 years, or so. As a result I’ve almost entirely stopped thinking in words.
I’m getting feelings and thoughts back that remember me of myself 30 to 40 years ago.
When I started this I expected that it would enrich me. I didn’t expect that I would have to deal with a large amount of fear. I’m now noticing that I have so much fear that it’s becoming ever more clear that I have to deal with it.
I have to defeat it or it will defeat me.
The coming few days, or possibly even weeks, I won’t be doing much drawing. For one thing because that too begins to scare me. But mainly because I’m busy sorting through half forgotten memories to figure out when fears and phobias started and how I will deal with them.
For one thing is clear. I’ll have to do something.
When your really scared of something you’re tempted to curl up in a little corner but if you do that you only get more scared and at some point you’ll never come out of your corner.
I’ve seen that happen with a friend of mine who gets an anxiety attack every time he wants to leave his house. The last time I saw him was about a year ago. He was in the middle of an anxiety attack. He told me that he always got them when he had to go out to do his shopping or to visit his psychiatrist.
That was all he had left. Visits to his psychiatrist and doing his daily shopping. The rest of the world scared him to much.
I don’t want to become like him. So I’ll better deal with my fears.
If you like the stories I tell. Or like the art and music I show. Feel free to leave a donation.
Enough is enough already
by Henk ter Heide on Tuesday December 27, 2011
This is a comment on a story on Slate.com about the apparent racial content
of the Dutch Sinter Klaas holiday.
“Allochtoon” does mean foreigner.
The reason that we call them foreigners is because that is what they call themselves.
If you ask a 8 year old Moroccan boy where he’s from. He won’t tell you that he’s born
in Utrecht or Amsterdam, but that he is from Morocco.
Although he’ll probably only knows the country from a few holidays.
Forty years ago we used to call people from Morocco and the likes “guest workers”.
But they never returned to their own country, so clearly they weren’t.
Instead they stayed to enjoy our health plans, unemployment benefits and pensions.
Although some Dutch people complained, the majority didn’t mind.
Nor did we mind that they continued to speak their own language and adhere by their
own religion and follow their own religious holidays.
Some ten, fifteen years ago head coverings started showing up in the Dutch streets.
And although it caused some annoyance, most people didn’t mind.
But you have to draw the line somewhere.
A few years back there was talk of demolishing the Christmas holidays in favor of the
sugar feast.
It never happened. But for the first time the Dutch people got the feeling that our
culture was under attack.
Now foreigners are complaining that the Sinter Klaas holiday is racist.
It might be.
But that’s not the point.
It’s our holiday. Part of our cultural heritage.
We, the Dutch people, are getting the ever stronger feeling that if those foreigners
really hate our culture that much, they should go back to where they came from.
But of course they won’t.
Where else could they enjoy a lifestyle that is as good as what they get in the
Netherlands?
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