December 8, 1982
In the year 1982 I was in class 3B at the Christus Koning School. Although it was politically turbulent, the days before the December murders were the best time I have ever known in Suriname.
Suriname seemed to be flourishing. Those were the days when, for the first time in my life, as a teenager, I didn't always go home right after school when school was over. Just because it was too cozy. Under the tree of Kinte, for example. There I could have a relaxed but very nice chat with boys like Guus Pengel and Evert van Genderen, while enjoying a nice Teloh. We talked about everything and anything and of course politics.
Apart from the fact that we could laugh out loud at Johnny Kamperveen's "Pappa Neijtje" or the one-two between Union leader Fred Derby and Sergeant-Major Desi Bouterse , 'Ba uzi' by Thea Doelwijt and Henk Tjon also played in Theater Thalia . I have never experienced a better political spectacle since then.
The beauty of this time was that Suriname seemed to be pushing its boundaries in every area. The young nation, which had endured a coup and a coup after five years of independence, seemed to want to use its possibilities without restraint and without limits. Of course, this was accompanied by all the pros and cons that politics can bring, but I can assure you that no one, absolutely no one, was ready for what was to come.
Wednesday, December 8, would have been a regular school day, just like any other weekday, at the strict Catholic school where all lessons started at seven o'clock sharp. This school day was different. I saw my mother look at my father in dismay when they told me that we didn't have to go to school because a coupe had been committed. My father was otherwise silent. With a worried frown on his forehead, he seemed lost in thought. I myself didn't understand it at all. Until that day, I didn't even know what a coupe was.
Soon the phone rang. Family and friends who lived not far from the barracks told how they had been woken up by shots. The days that followed were literally and figuratively dark. Apart from the curfew that had been immediately reinstated, no one really knew what was going on, who had been arrested, why and especially who was still alive.
In the months that followed, everyone seemed to be a suspect. People were arrested left and right, threatened and beaten up because they had said something “wrong”. The fear was real.
When I heard Roue Verveer say in Carre that he has the right to talk about Surinamese politics, because he experienced the hardest time in Suriname, the 80s, I immediately felt what he meant. I could laugh at the joke about the long lines for basic groceries. I can remember those lines very well, but that time was absolutely not funny.
The fear, which the comedian also talked about, lies much deeper. The fear that was instilled in us by the December murders is still alive. Just like Roue's mother who warns him every time, 'watch what you say.' It is a deep-rooted fear that never seems to leave your soul. And then there is the sadness.
To this day, my heart rate increases and I start to sweat inside, when I read stories of the survivors. From the widows who fought like a lion for the life of their husbands to the heartbreaking story of Esmerlda, who gave her father, journalist Frank Wijngaarde, a “brasa” for the last time, when he took her to dance class.
Unfortunately, I do not know the story of my classmate Nathalie. I only know that her father, Psychologist Gerard Leckie, was also with the 15 and that we have never seen her again since that day. This class photo was taken for her. 'Kon hesi baka' means: Come back soon.
On December 27, 2013, 31 years later, there is a Christus Koning School Reunion reunion in Suriname. I wonder if she will be there.