Understanding history – how do you do that?
Do you do it by reading many books about the past?
Do you do it by listening to the stories of older people?
By continuing to tell them?
Or are there better ways?
I think it all helps.
But in my view, one thing is very important: wanting to learn and wanting to understand.
Curiosity.
Asking people who experienced it questions.
Or people who know a lot about it.
Not the people with the strongest opinions.
But the people with knowledge and insight.
Listening to these people.
Hearing and reading their stories.
People who are sometimes a bit more distant from us.
But sometimes also very close.
Especially on a small island like Bonaire.
If we look at the history books, Bonaire lost 33 of her sons at sea during the war.
33 sons, brothers, cousins, fathers, grandfathers, friends.
All from families with names we know: Bernabela, Cicilia, Serberie, Thielman, Winklaar – and many others.
The stories these families have to tell us teach us something.
About life in war and insecurity.
About loss and grief.
But also about the necessity of peace and freedom.
It is important to hear these stories loud and clear.
To write them down and pass them on.
Because they hold up a mirror to us, even as times change.
Sometimes faster than we can keep up.
Or faster than we would like.
Stories from our shared past are there for the taking – also within our community.
Stories about the history of our beautiful island.
Stories about the history of slavery – with all the emotions that come with it.
And also stories on the Second World War.
All these stories belong together.
They may be very different.
They are told from very different perspectives.
And behind these stories sometimes lies old pain.
Because they have marked lives and generations.
But precisely for that reason they must be told.
Precisely for that reason we must hear them.
Because we want those stories to change something.
Something within ourselves.
Something within our community.
Because we do not want a new chapter of slavery and inequality.
And we do not want a new war.
If people are oppressed somewhere in the world, it can happen here again.
If there is war somewhere in the world, it can come close to us as well.
Five months ago, we felt that ourselves.
Venezuela is less than 100 kilometers from here.
We saw geopolitical violence uncomfortably close.
In our community also live Venezuelans who watched the violence in their homeland with fear and trembling.
And precisely because it came so close here, we may ask ourselves out loud what exactly we learn from history.
We have history books full of stories, full of analyses and interpretations.
We want to understand the past.
And yet there is still so much injustice and war in the world.
There are still autocrats and dictators who think that power and violence are the best route to peace and security.
While the pitch-black pages of the past teach us exactly the opposite.
I find it important to emphasize this here today.
Today we live in a new, insecure world order.
That means something for our responsibility.
As individuals and as a community.
Because in turbulent and uncertain times, it ultimately comes down to ourselves.
To cherish and strengthen our own values.
To pass on the stories of the past and learn from them ourselves.
And to take the responsibility that is needed when we see behavior we do not want.
To be one as a community and stand strong together.
Whoever you are, whatever your story or skin color, and whoever you love.
Whether your cradle stood in Rincon or in Tera Kora.
Or even in Rotterdam or in Caracas.
Those stories from the past help us.
Let us keep telling them.
And let us keep listening to them.
Let us give space to the wisdom and experiences of the past.
So that we truly learn from them.
As Cola Debrot beautifully expressed in his poem “Maybe”:
Maybe the day will come again,
a day of pure joy.
Or was it such a light moonlit night
full of melancholy under the sia tree?
Maybe the day will come again
that cactus and sia tree
embrace each other
as affectionate relatives.
Maybe the day will come,
– all maize has its seed –
that even worker and capitalist
will be allowed each other.
Maybe… that day is still far away,
farther than the kunuku of Ma Linda.
But do not lose faith and hope,
despite all our suffering along the way.
Let the stories of the past inspire us.
So that together we can work on a community that – even in times of great change, of unrest and uncertainty – continues to build a better future.
Because we believe in it.
And because our community – our island – deserves it.