by Fausia S. Abdul, Founder Our HERitage
This morning I arrived early in Amsterdam, at the site of the national Keti Koti commemoration. For the first time, I was officially invited to a seat close to the stage. A spot where you can see everything clearly, close to the speakers, the music, and the faces of the audience. Ideal, I thought.
Until the sun showed up. Not friendly and warm, but fierce and unrelenting. As I sat there, the heat burned my back. My chair felt hotter than some of the political situations unfolding before my eyes.
A Stage of Words
There were speeches that struck straight to the heart: words not only spoken but also felt. There were also moments when the sentences sounded hollow, as if detached from the history and emotions of the day.
Frankly, it was difficult to listen to the Prime Minister's speech. Not because the subject is unimportant, on the contrary, but because there are moments when you feel that the real meaning of this day lies not in the words of an administrator, but in the people who come together here.
The power is within us
The true essence of Keti Koti isn't "given" from a stage. It's within us. In every drumbeat that resonates deep in your chest. In the bowed heads during the moment of silence. In the silent nod between people who recognize each other in a shared past, in shared pain, but also in shared pride.
Keti Koti literally means "the chains are broken." It's Emancipation Day: the commemoration of the abolition of slavery in Suriname and the former Netherlands Antilles in 1863. But that freedom was only on paper then; only ten years later, in 1873, were people truly free from the horrors and forced labor on the plantations.
More than a ritual
For me, Keti Koti is never just a ceremony. It's not a day you "check off" on the calendar. It's a heartbeat that connects us to the past. A presence that is palpable in music, in words, in the aroma of food shared later that day.
It's a day to remember, but also to celebrate. Not to forget the pain, but to acknowledge that despite everything, despite the chains of the past and the invisible chains of the present, there is strength, creativity, and community.
Today I felt that strength, perhaps even more so than in previous years. As the sun shone brightly, I thought of all the generations before us. People who didn't need an official invitation or a chair next to a stage to know they mattered. People who, through their existence, their music, their stories, and their love, have left an indelible legacy.
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