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  • from The Last Freedom *
  • Frank Martinus Arion (bio)
    Translated by Paul Vincent (bio)

Chapter 30

In September 1971 in Aruba, when he discovered that the children in the third grade simply could not follow him in Dutch, he started giving his lessons in Papiamentu. It immediately leaked out and he was asked to explain himself in one of two ways: was it a joke, or was it a mistake . . . ? “It’s a matter of principle,” he said.

His name was in the paper. From then on he became one of a group of revolutionary teachers: like Stanley Brown in Curaçao whose magazine Vitó had played an obvious consciousness-raising role and had helped prepare the ground for the uprising of May 30; like Freddy Antersijn who had gone so far as to tear up the photograph of the Queen of the Netherlands in front of his class; like the Surinamese schoolteacher Astrid Roemer who had refused to celebrate St. Nicholas Day with her pupils on December 5. His name got into the papers and after that it became impossible for him to get a job, as had happened with the others. First in Aruba. Later in Curaçao. But he refused to let himself be ground down. He quit teaching, headed for Curaçao and supported himself there by giving lessons in martial arts, which he had practiced from a very young age, and by doing all kinds of jobs including working on the docks.

He met Aideline in Curaçao in about 1973, just after she had graduated from college. He was twenty-three; she was a year younger. They married soon after, moved into a small house just outside Willemstad, and decided not to have children for the time being. They wanted to devote themselves to change, change in the official language on the island, in music, in art, in the economy and in politics.

They wanted to get to know the Caribbean area well because the educational system on their islands had basically isolated them from the rest of the Caribbean and South America, though that was less true of Aideline, because she had widespread family links throughout the region. They went to Cuba to study cultural and musical life, especially the National Ballet. A little later he was able to infiltrate the Rastas in Jamaica and wore dreadlocks at a time when on Curaçao you were still in danger of being beaten to death by the cops if you sported even a modest beard. They attended a conference on folk music in Trinidad. Here she discovered that there are steel bands that specialize in playing classical music. She even played solo violin with one such band.

Suriname was preparing for independence. For the first time the Surinamese, who in those days still felt intellectually a cut above the Antilleans because they spoke better Dutch, were taken seriously by the Antilleans. The Surinamese became the good guys! They had the guts simply to throw out the Dutch and take full control of their country.

He said to Aideline, “Shit, woman. We’ve got to be part of this. Here they’re like deflated balloons the moment they see a Dutchman coming.” [End Page 529]

Chapter 31

He was even prepared to give up his nationality. Aideline wouldn’t hear of it. Once an Antillean, always an Antillean. For better or for worse! Aideline also said that she was a little suspicious of all those Antilleans of Surinamese origin, who in the Antilles find it easy to be Antilleans and in Suriname just as easy to be Surinamese. But they did go to the great Independence Day celebrations, which cost over a million guilders. In Suriname she quickly found work as a music teacher and just as quickly found herself playing piano in a band at the Torarica, the top hotel in Suriname. Daryll had no need to worry about earning money. Aideline did not believe that the man automatically had to be the breadwinner. Besides, it suited her fine to be able to devote herself full time to both her profession and her hobby. He set about studying Sranan, which after all was a creole...

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