thepancollective

an aruban tale of dwarves and elephants

Once upon a time there was a small island with blue skies, white beaches and good people. The people looked around and thought: "Hey! We should invite people from other countries to enjoy our beautiful beaches." The people from other countries came and liked what they found on the island. They returned year after year.

And the island prospered.

People were happy because they had good food on their table, money to go on vacation to visit other countries, and roofs over their heads.

But their leader wanted more money from the people. Even though he and his government had introduced economic measures that gave them 450 million dollars more than any previous government, they thought "We should double our import tax on luxury goods to get even more money. Let's check the list of what is considered a luxury item".

They looked at the list and found it lacking in size. So they added more things.

Like soap. And deodorant. And clothes. And paper. And bricks. And fishing nets. All those things are now luxury goods in Aruba

When the people found out, they were mad. They dared to ask "Why do you need to make life so expensive for us?"  They were told that it was the fault of the previous government. They asked what happened with the extra 450 million dollars, and they were ignored. Instead they were told to not buy as many clothes as they were used to.The people asked why the national debt doubled under the management of this government. They only got silence from their leaders.  So the people got even more furious and made plans to organize demonstrations.

And their leader called them dwarves and said that his government were like elephants and were going to stomp them. The government called for its supporters to await the demonstrators.

But nobody came to shout for their leader. Apparantly the elephants couldn't muster the force to stomp 1000 'dwarves'. They could only insult them in radio addresses, saying they were 'rabble rousers'. But the dwarves know that their day will come when the elephants will be hearded out of office.

And they all lived happily ever after.

my mother's garden

My mother has a little house, but a big garden. It is filled with flowers of all sorts of colors, some in pots, others planted in the earth. We do not identify our house with the number anymore, but with “the house that has all the kelki geels (butter cups) hanging outside”. There are that many of them. Of course, such a garden requires a lot of trimming and pruning and shearing. I am convinced that the local garden supply stores would be lost without us.

My mother hates change. Because of this characteristic it was a tough decision for her to divorce my father and create a new life for her. The first appartment she went to didn’t have a garden at all. The second appartment that she  rented did have a garden, but she wasn’t allowed to make drastic changes to the garden.

She also struggled a lot with the decision of selling the property land that had been in her family for generations in order to finance the purchase of a new home. After assuring her that I did not expect her to stay in an appartment in order for me to inherit these properties, she decided that she was going to sell her land and buy a house.

She did buy a house, one that she could afford, but the garden was growing close to be a jungle. Faced with this, my mother took charge. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t debate with herself, she inmediately knew what she wanted and how she wanted it. She organized the clean up of the garden, chose the flowers, decided on their placement and colors.

It was the first time that I had seen my mother so decided, and it gave me another reason to be extraordinarily proud to be her daughter.

This garden gave my mother the knowledge that she could make it on her own.

lost

In the shadow of the lighthouse, far away from any type of civilization, there is a small dirt road that drives along the coast. The view changes from shallow, green blue water that is the stuff of dreams for the tourism marketing board to a sort of deep blue sea, with dark rocks ringed with white foam of the waves that splash against them.

When you drive on that road, you will eventually see this view, of a dead tree with right next to it a green-ish tree. The dead tree is called the fututu, it is a sort of mangrove, according to the experts.

The fututu used to be green, with leaves and everything. The banner of this site illustrates how it was. It was the only picture I could find online, I suppose the other tourist sites have already taken it down, becuase the tree is well, dead.

Now, how did that happen? Nobody knows who or why, but about a year ago somebody took a machine saw and tried to saw the tree in half. I can't even imagine the motive for doing such a thing.

This is the stuff that makes me bang my head against the wall. Why, why, why. Why try to destroy such a beautiful thing? I know that there is plenty more to be frustrated about, such as politicians, economy, and education. I'm aware of that. But by some luck of the draw we get to live on this beautiful island, that has beautiful things such as this tree.

Why somebody would want to destroy this gift to us is beyond me.

fruits

This morning, my mother asked me if I had used anything with alcohol during the night. With a baffled expression on my face, I replied that I hadn't. It turns out that a new acquired batch of makapruim was the culprit. My mother had covered it and a bit of fermentation apparantly took place

I have dilligently googled makapruim, and I have not found an English name for it. It's a small fruit, with a mix of red and yellow colored skin. At the peak of its ripeness, it's deliciously soft and juicy. Even before finishing with the first piece of fruit, your mind already looks forward to the next time that you can let your teeth sink in its tasty skin.

Aruba doesn't have that many native fruits, and the ones we do have are not available in abundance. This is because we do have dry weather, but also the lack of people who work in agriculture. Thus when one is able to purchase these fruits, it is a double treat.

Apart from the makapruim, my other favorite native fruit is called the shimarucu, or West Indian Cherry. My highschool had a few trees planted in the middle of the grounds, and in recess you would see students trying all sorts of things to get to the fruits that are more harder to reach.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to have a feast with my makapruims.

West Indian Cherry image provided by this site

money matters

I have recently started going to a cursus about the way government functions in Aruba society. Last week we hit the topic of labor and salary in Aruba.

Well, that was an eye-opener.

According to numbers of the Central Bureau of Statistics, women have 10% more of the degrees in higher education, but only 30% of the highest salary brackets belong to the women. This is a sad state of affairs.

Even sadder is that women, who have the majority of higher education degrees, but on average earn afl. 500,00 (about $275) less per month than a man.

When I asked if this wasn't against the law, a former MP who was present said that there wasn't a law that mandates equal pay for equal work. I was flabbergasted. I asked the MP if there was going to be some sort of opposition to this kind of bill being introduced. He replied that no, not really, but that there were simply other priorities.

Other priorities. This just fills me with an even bigger determination to let my vote and support matter. The further I learn about politics, the less I am inclined to vote for somebody because of family ties or friendship.

My vote is going to be earned.

royal birthday

Last Saturday the countries that belong to the Kingdom of The Netherlands celebrated the Queen's birthday. In Dutch it is called Koninginnedag and in Papiamento it is Anja di La Reina.

It is in reality not the queen's actual birthday, that's in January, but Queen Beatrix decided that when she ascended the throne that she would continue to honor her mother, the late Queen Juliana, and to keep celebrating her birthday as the Queen's birthday.

We've had three generations of Queens. Wilhelmina, Juliana, and Beatrix. For 116 years our monarch has been a woman. While this has not been the magic bullet to take care of sexism, I do believe that it has helped the woman's movement.

The Queen is respected in Aruba, probably even more than in the Netherlands. To me she is a symbol of unity. The countries that form the Dutch Kingdom have different politcs, different cultures, different ideas, but we have only one Queen. I think that for this idea alone the monarchy should be upheld.

On this day, being Dutch is embraced.The Dutch flags are decorated gaily with the orange ribbons. On the radio Dutch patriotic songs are playing, which is a rarity indeed. There are kite-flying contests, bakesales, miniature boat competions, miniature plane competitions.

It is one of those days that makes you feel relaxed and glad to live on this island.

sunset

This is one of the reasons why I love my island. The breathtaking beauty of its nature, right from my back yard. It is a privilege to be able to see this.

donkeys

Aruba's first donkeys (called burico) came with the Spaniards, who first discovered Aruba in 1499. After a century or so they left, but the donkeys stayed.

These animals were the main source of transport for people who live in the outer districts, such as Santa Cruz, Savaneta and Ayo. People would travel on donkeys to come to Playa, as the capital was called then. My mother still remembers them as a young woman; old women with their hair neatly tucked into a a shawl, more often than not wearing black to mourn and mark the passing of a family member.

But, modern life creeps in everywhere, even on a tiny desert island like Aruba, and the car took the place of the donkey. The donkey became obsolete. They were either left to wander, starving because the animals could not take care of themselves, they were hit by cars, or they succumbed to sickness.

Nowadays, there are a few colonies of wild donkeys left. You can find them at Alto Vista and Guadirikiri, where they'll stand looking at the cars that pass them by. If the donkeys have any sort of expression on their face, it seems to be bemusement. Bemusement at us silly creatures getting all excited and pointing a black thing at them.

Those donkeys that are hurt or are unable to take care of themselves for another reason, end up here. It is a good organization, and I'm proud to be a part of it, but part of me wishes there was no need for it.

directions

When I am visiting bigger countries, such as the U.S. or the Netherlands, directions from point A to point B were given in a very efficient manner, for example:

Go West on I-4, take exit 8A and go right on B.B. Down Blvd.

People used to this sort of direction might find themselves a bit bewildered in Aruba, because we have our own style of giving directions. It goes somewhat like this:

Okay, you know the main road? Go out there and just go straight until you reach the traffic lights. Don't go right, go straight. Drive over the little bridge and when you see a bright yellow boat, take a right. Don't worry, the boat's always there. You'll see a dirt road on your left, but don't take it. Drive a bit further past the house with the pink flowers, and it's the 4th house from the left.

Yeah. No wonder our visitors sometimes drive around in circles, with a bit of a dazed look in their eyes. Don't worry, though, if you ever get lost, just look for the divi divi tree. It always points north, to the hotels.

In Aruba, there are many roads to take to end up where you want.

parke arikok

On Good Friday I visited Parke National Arikok, Aruba's only nature reservation.

We drive past the rangers' kiosk. Like always, they raise their hands in greeting as we head on in to the dirt roads. We notice that the roads have been somewhat improved. I am so happy that they don't make these roads asfalt. The only way that a lot of drivers will respect that they are in a nature park is if they are forced to drive slowy because they are looking out for holes in the road that can damage their car.

Tourists seem to love the fact that they are going off-road. I suppose that in the cities of Boston, New York and Chicago there aren't many dirt roads that wind their way through hills.

It is noticeable that the rainy season is all but over. The brown is now dominating over the green, which makes the view a bit desolate. It is not a forgiving terrain. It is not sweet. It is not gentle. Yet its starkness is beautiful in its own way.

The pitas are in bloom. Their long stalks are filled with bright yellow flowers, reminding me of the color of the midday sun.

As usual, we stop at the hill of Miralamar, which is the narrowest point on the island, where you can see the sea in the front, and if you turn, you can see the sea as well. We pass the dunes of Boca Prins, which are snowy white. I once again marvel that they exist at all amidst these brown rocks.

We finally reach our destination, the restaurant where we are going to have a traditional Aruban meal of fish, fried funchi (yellow cornmeal) and pan bati ( typical Aruban bread made of maize).

I look to my left and see the waves crash on the rocks, I smell the sea air and I feel privileged that I live here.