My expose on immigration in the Netherlands

It started out as a joke between a friend and I, everywhere I went during my short break in the Netherlands, my inquisitive read: nosey personality got the better of me and I would start quizzing 'foreign-looking' people about where they were from and what exactly they were doing there. In all honesty I found it odd to find black people in the streets, shops and restaurants of Amsterdam, the Hague and Rotterdam and what’s more they didn’t look like visitors passing-by but rather like this was their home, where they belonged. I realise it’s a clear indication of my ignorance because of course black people have immigrated to countries all over the world so why should Holland be any different. Unlike the UK, the US and France though, I find the idea of someone from Africa or the Caribbean settling in the Netherlands hugely fascinating, I mean where does an immigrant from the Gambia for instance start in such a place? You not only look different but you also sound different and have never ever spoken a language that sounds anything like the Dutch language. Settling in foreign countries is hard enough even when the language is the same because of course for many Africans the culture is completely different to what we’re used to – so you immerse yourself and hope it will get easier as time goes by. Awestruck by all this – I started quizzing people I met in the hopes of learning more about these clearly resilient immigrants who had made the Netherlands their home.


In Rotterdam I met a waiter from Cape Verde - a Portuguese-speaking island off the west coast of Africa. I asked him how he came to live in Holland and learnt that his parents emigrated there some 15 years ago. He also told me that he spoke his indigenous language at home with his family and learnt Dutch from an early age which was now his main language of communication. Apparently there are sizeable Cape Verdean, Curacaoan and Surinamese communities in Rotterdam. Curacao which is a small island off the coast of Venezuela is in fact still part of Dutch territory and part of the five islands known as the Netherland Antilles that also includes Bonaire and Sint Maarten (the Southern half of the island of St Martin). Suriname, on the other hand is a former Dutch colony and Dutch speaking therefore it made sense for these islanders to settle here. My interviewee also told me that many of the stunning Surinamese and Curacaoan girls I saw, a number of whom were pushing ‘designer prams’ were born or came to the Netherlands as very young children and were essentially Dutch now. Unfortunately as a group, the Dutch islanders have a bad reputation, perhaps unfairly so but the general view was that they were lazy and aggressive. There is also a high percentage of teenage pregnancies within their communities and disproportionately so especially as the Dutch have the lowest teenage pregnancy rates in Europe. According to official statistics, there has been a growth in the number of unwanted pregnancies among ethnic minorities in the Netherlands with women from Surinam, Turkey, Morocco and the Dutch Caribbean, accounting for considerably more abortions than 'indigenous' Dutch women - in 2004 the figure was 60% of the total number of abortions carried out compared to their relatively small population. To give you an idea of where they sit in the country’s population as a whole - online figures suggest the population in the Netherlands is divided as follows - Dutch 79.71%, Turkish 2.31%, Indonesian 2.3%, German 2.28%, Moroccan 2.1%, Surinamese 2.06%, Netherlands Antilles/Aruba 0.83% and Other 8.36%.

With interview no. 1 in the bag, I decided to pick on some poor unsuspecting boy working at a MacDonald’s in Amsterdam city centre (of course my visit there was purely for research purposes). I should have known better than to try and get a man to multi-task because I quizzed him as he served us and watched as he broke into a sweat having to process so much information all at the same time. He just about managed to give me the information I was asking for as well as handing me two sachets of tomato ketchup. He repeated my question...a little baffled using his limited school English - 'where are my parents from?' - "Yeah", I barked "...and whilst you're thinking about it can I also have the ketchup I asked for five minutes ago?” Once we'd established that he was half Jamaican and half Surinamese and spoke mostly Dutch, I thanked him and left, much to the amusement of his equally young, also black colleagues. Unsurprisingly 85% of the staff in this MacDonald’s was young and black. So I guess that was one thing black immigrants in the Netherlands had in common with the ones here in the UK.

I also spoke to friends who work as expatriates for the various international organisations based in the Hague who told me that they found the Dutch quite unfriendly and some would go as far as to say quite racist. Political correctness was non-existent in a country where the people prided themselves on their humour even if it meant laughing at the cultural differences of others. There were adverts on television portraying black people as wild and primitive and things that are no longer said or done in the UK certainly for fear of accusations of racism were done in the Netherlands and their justification was that this was their sense of humour, like it or lump it.

I came away from my mini investigations with even more admiration for Black immigrants in the Netherlands than I had started with because I realised that aside from a difference in language, culture and skin colour, there were other difficulties which immigrants had to contend with. For instance in 2006, the Dutch introduced a test that all immigrants had to pass if they want to move to the Netherlands - this included watching and being questioned on a DVD which covered nude beaches, homosexuality and the sex trade as part of Dutch culture. So if you’re coming from a conservative society then you’d better for a crash course in Dutch liberalism. I met an exchange medical student from Burkina Faso who was attending a summer programme who had been traumatized by a trip to the red light district as part a cultural tour of Amsterdam. Even I found the whole women displaying their ‘wares’ in shop windows a little hard to take so I can’t imagine how this boy who was leaving his strict Christian home in Ouagadougou for the first time in his life must have been feeling.

Living as foreigner in the Netherlands takes even more pliability than living as an immigrant in other parts of the world - you clearly have to be prepared to immerse yourself in a culture that is so strangely different, so opposed to the one you are used to and so unapologetically rigid. Overcoming these differences is no small feat so my hat is raised to the immigrant who moves to Holland and settles there raising their children and succeeding in spite of everything.

(you are not) Welcome to the USA

I'm usually a big fan of the USA although I don't buy into the American dream thing, I do admire their 'can do' attitude and unshakeable belief in what they can achieve as individuals and as well as a nation even if it's sometime misplaced..

New York is probably my favourite city in the Western World although London can sometimes edge it out ever so slightly when the sun is out. So in this vein I was psyched about my recent holiday plans and inspite of extremely poor customer service on the Delta airlines flight, I was still looking forward to spending time in the insanely busy NYC.

After enduring an 8 hour flight - God knows why or when it started taking so long to go from London to the East Coast of America, followed by an hour on the tarmac waiting for a space to park and then according to the clearly incompetent pilot, for 'a million pound plane whose towbar was broken' to be moved. We finally got to leave the plane, and walk through a series of narrow corridor and down several non-functioning escalators to Passport Control. Ok I thought, just a few more minutes and we'll be on our way to Brooklyn - the buzz of a city that never sleeps was bound to make up for the drama of the trip.
As we approached the counters - all 4 of them, a morbidly obese, clearly uneducated and unkempt woman started yelling at the top of her voice for all US citizens to form lines behind three of the four counters that were open. Our long line of non- US citizens began to look at one another in bewilderment - so where are we supposed to go? The thought that they may be rounding us up to send us back to our respectives countries did cross my mind especially when I recalled the process I had to go through to receive 'security clearance' online for coming to the US. Gone are the days of being able to hop on a plane with a European passport and staying in the US for anything up to three months without having to justify one's trip. Fortunately before I started panicking about whether I'd have to go back to work if I was deported or just hang out at home for two weeks pretending to be watching a free concert in Prospect Park, our morbidly obese friend shouted for the aliens to join the line that was already dealing with disabled passengers first. Nice I thought, we're not only not good enough to have more than one immigration officer processing our passports, but we now have to share the one officer with people who we couldn't possibly take our anger out on even if the uncharitable thought had crossed our minds.
Coming from the land of the passive aggressives - English people would rather spontaneously combust with rage than speak out against something that is blatantly wrong...unless ofcourse it involves animals, most of the people in the Non-US citzen queue shuffled along. Instead of questioning this bizarre system some simply rolled their eyes in exasperation while the braver mumbled to their neighbours. According to a couple who said they travelled to the US all the time, New York's JFK was the worse airport you could fly into and although American customers left a lot to be desired, nothing reached the heights of the incompetence and lack of initiative displayed here.
Granted Americans are known for being inward looking and generally unconcerned about what the world thinks of them, especially as for many, there is no world outside of the US borders....well unless you count Canada and Mexico ofcourse. I get that but I don't get that you would display such a poor image of your country by giving people who first enter your country such a disgraceful experience.
As someone who works in PR, I would advise that they do away with the 'warm fuzzy' little video of Americans of all shades and hues saying 'Welcome' in the Passport Control hall and focus on better cutomer service. Americans or rather JFK officials need to acknowledges that sometimes your visitors can be your best advocates and the message that Coca Cola and the countless Hollywood exports fail to deliver may well be done by those of us who visit the country and enjoy their experience. You may even be able to sell the American dream message more effectively this way.

Life = Pushing yourself

I guess it must be human nature to avoid difficult things; we generally prefer to take the easy road because frankly who likes failure. So the result is that we go through life doing what we’re good at and being content to give ourselves a pat on the back when we live up to our own expectations. When it comes to exercise, I think I definitely into this category so when I may gym instructor, Rhona decided to set me the challenge of doing a 5k run, I nearly told her to get the *bleep* out of here. Fortunately for me and no doubt for her too, I didn’t –as she convinced me that she believed I could do it and that all I needed was a few weeks training, I thought long and hard and by the end of her sales pitch, my response was ‘Why not?’

I’ve always enjoyed going to gym but never ran or thought about running, in my mind I couldn’t do it but I really did admire people who ran on the treadmill. I had somehow convinced myself that my asthma prevented me from doing high impact cardio exercises. So I spent years in the gym using the cross trainer and power walking but never got round to the run or even the jog. She gave me a printed training programme for doing the run – it started with a 1 minute walk and 1 minute run which is repeated five times for 10 minutes. The programme gradually builds up week by week until you’re able to run for 10, 15 then 30 minutes without a break. I started following it and initially thought that there was no way I could learn to run for 5 minutes without stopping let alone 10 or 15 but I decided to stick to it largely because a big part of me does not like to let people down. I had promised Rhona that I would do it and I was going to keep to my promise.

Week one was probably the hardest but it gradually got easier and I started to really enjoy running, it also helped me to lose weight and tone up and oddly enough when I had overeaten or felt bloated, I just had to run and I would feel so much better.

It took me three months of training but I went from not being able to run for one minute to running for 40 minutes for a 5k charity run which I did last Sunday. I was amazed at my ability to do something that was completely outside my comfort zone and if nothing else, this experience has taught me that life is about setting challenges. There really is no point coasting through it because you miss out on so much. Our potential is huge; bigger than any of us realise and life’s challenges are what make us realise what we are truly capable of. The road less travelled is also so much more rewarding – if we all set ourselves the task of taking it once in a while even when it scares the hell out of us, I imagine our lives would be more fulfilled.

I felt a rush of adrenalin when I crossed the finished line on Sunday and I immediately thought to myself ‘I could have done this in ten minutes less’. So perhaps next year I’ll be going back to perfect my 5k run before doing a 10k and then who knows a marathon or even a once in a lifetime climb up Mount Kilimanjaro. As long as I’m healthy I’m making a promise to keep on pushing myself both physically and mentally because that I believe is the true definition of life!

Domestic Violence – wtf are people thinking?

Is it me or do some people seriously think that domestic violence is okay if the victim is a fame-seeking gold digger? I know it may sound like an exaggeration but the discussions around the latest Mel Gibson tapes to surface make me conclude there are those who would argue that someone like Oksana Grigorieva deserves to be beaten up because of the type of person she is.


I have yet to hear Mel Gibson issue a statement saying that the person on the tapes is not him, likewise the sympathetic public haven’t even called the identity of the man spouting profanities and threatening a woman on the tape. Instead they question the kind of woman who would record her partner and then leak the tape. To that I would say the kind of woman who wants to expose him for the cowardly thug that he is.

But seriously, I can’t help but wonder if those who defend him have lost their minds. It may well be temporary insanity but it certainly seems like some brand of madness.

His ex-wife has rushed to his defence saying that in their 28 years of marriage he never laid a finger on her as though this were irrefutable proof that he could not have hit or abused Oksana. Likewise his friend Whoopi Goldberg defended the charge of racism as though being black gives her authority to declare what is racist and what isn’t. Referring to Latino workers as ‘wetbacks’ or using the ‘N’ word when you’re a very rich actor is apparently not racist. You heard it from Ms Goldberg first.

The sickening part though comes from the online readers –those who flood the Daily Mail with comments from all over the globe – sympathising with Mel, insulting Oksana and not once calling into question the behaviour of a man who responds to:


'You were hitting a woman with a child in her hands. What kind of man is that?' [….] 'Hitting a woman when she's holding a child in her hands, breaking her teeth twice in the face. What kind of man is that?'

with…


'You know what? You f***ing deserved it.'

I mean is it me or does he deserve nothing short of years in prison being someone else’s b****?

When Chris Brown hit Rihanna and left her face all swollen and unrecognisable, the world rightly condemned his actions. He was criticised by almost everyone, his records were no longer played on some radio stations, in short he was publically shamed.

So why are there people, and it would seem many seemingly sane people who would defend such vile behaviour because the person in question in Mel Gibson and the woman at the other end is supposedly an attention seeking money grabbing opportunist? I could care less if she is after his money, so what? He’s a grown up and should be able to make sound decisions about who he dates or more sobering has a child with. Judging from the tapes, he clearly thinks that his position and money give him the right to treat people however he feels. Only a coward would lay a hand on someone who is physically weaker than them. Domestic violence will never end when people operate double standards. It was wrong for Chris Brown to hit Rihanna and it is equally wrong for Mel Gibson to hit Oksana Grigorieva. Their personalities or personal motives should not come into play. And we should speak out against it in unison otherwise it will never end.

Den Haag - small yet perfectly formed

It's only the morning after but I think that I'm already in love with the Hague. It almost feels like a confession, considering I spent such a long time avoiding the place, turning my nose up at job opportunities and secretly pitying my friends who made the move here. Who'd have thought I'd fall for a place whose dull weather apparently trumps England, although that I have to see with my own eyes. It could be because we're in the middle of a glorious summer and the sun is out but somehow I think I would like it here even if it rained buckets.
Although I've been told by friends that the Dutch are abrupt and unfriendly- I'm keeping an open mind especially as yesterday I found a very helpful man at the airport as I was struggling with the machine that sells train tickets, he offered to help me without me even asking so I'm hoping his compatriots are going to be just like him. Besides I lived with the French for nearly 3 years so I think I can do abrupt and unfriendly...you could probably even throw in some hostility and I wouldn't flinch.
Now back to the beautiful Hague, I went for a jog in the park this morning and everywhere you walk there are canals and trams and people riding their bicycles. A lot of streets are not accessible to cars which is a bonus. It seems like a much healthier and greener way of living, although I'm no green warrior, I could happily go without a car if there were equally efficient alternatives which I don't believe there are in London. In the Hague, people tend to use bicycles and trams to get about, it ofcourse helps that everywhere is relatively close. 30 minutes on the train and you're in Amsterdam and the same amount of time on the tram takes you to Delft. Rotterdam is even closer, only 20 minutes by train which is regular and efficient. Southeastern trains could learn a thing or two from the Dutch.
What's even more endearing about the Hague is that the city centre is like a small chic residential area with cute little restaurants, delis, boutiques that sell unique pieces for a prices that do not make me want to cross the road. There are all sorts of odd little shops like a dog accessory store and one that sells bits for bicycles, makes sense. I came across a cute little shop that sells hand painted children's furniture, kenyan kikoyis and little objects reminiscent of East Africa. I was a bit dubious of the name though, '2 monkeys'.... the 'crazee' in me muttered something about the cheek of the owner...but the sane me thought what lovely wares. The flats seems spacious enough although I can't vouch for everyone's place but I guess even if you found yourself in a small one bedroom flat, the city is so pedestrian friendly that you wouldn't have to feel cooped up at home. It's also extremely child friendly with mini play areas everywhere.
I've also noticed how clean it is, I can't say I've spotted any litter at all on the ground and most importantly no dog poo in the park, even though everyone seems to have a dog and they all go for regular walks in the park. The Dutch are encouraged to clean up after themselves - so there are dog toilets.....well dog poo bins everywhere and by all accounts it works. Again the Brits and the French could learn a thing or two here.

Finally the clincher for me is that there are black people in the Hague. Now I know depending on your skin hue or your disposition, this may not be an issue for you but for me it is. I like being around people who look like me or atleast having them within a reasonable distance. Among other things, it minimises the need for others to stare at you in amazement which is always a bonus when going about your business. The first bunch I spotted were some young kids at the train station speaking Dutch no less, I was in awe truly. It's like hearing Black people open their mouths and a Welsh or Scottish accent comes out. It's just one of life's mysteries to people like me who obviously think that outside of Africa and the Caribbean, England and America should have a monopoly on Black folks. I'm curious to learn how on earth they came to live in Holland though and more importantly find out where the afro hair product stores are. Now where's that phrase book - how do you say 'Do you have any vacancies'?

A suburban myth

A number of people I know live in the suburbs, mostly ones with family but some singletons too so I was quite amused the other day when someone who lives in the City proclaimed that if they had to live in the suburbs, they would die a slow death. I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the statement but thought this may offend so instead opted for a smile and a conversation diffuser about different strokes for different folks. It got me thinking though, what exactly do city dwellers think goes on the ‘burbs?


I know that countless American films and TV series have dealt with the subject of life in suburbs but I can’t think of a single one of them that resembles my life or the lives of my friends. Many of us moved to the areas we now live in because of good schools and space and also because we had other friends or family living nearby – not to be scoffed at when you have little children. In terms of our social lives, there’s very little change; we still go for drinks after work or head to restaurants in the city. With so much to do in London, we have chosen not to limit our socialising to the areas we live in, in fact if the truth be told, very few of us actually socialise in the small towns we live in. Why would we? The function of our residential area is simply to make our lives easier which it does, we didn’t decide to trade up on our social lives or on variety just because we signed a mortgage agreement for a 3 or 4 bedroom semi-detached house in a quiet street.

Just as there are urban myths, there appears to be a suburban myth perpetuated by the overactive imagination of film makers and bought-into by insular city dwellers that the suburbs represents some kind of a Stepford wives’ world with neatly mowed lawns and housewives who bake and have only their neighbours as their friends. I for one know my neighbours because it makes good living sense but they’re not my friends and I have yet to receive a basket of freshly baked cookies from them. I suspect that probably won’t be happening any time soon as they’re both busy professionals with demanding jobs and social lives. Most of the mums I know work; with jobs ranging from Marketing Managers to Pharmacists to Business Owners and cooking is a necessity rather than an art form. Their husbands tend to work in the City and will at times grab a drink with their friends near work or head to their favourite Ghanaian sports bar for some waakye and chicken stew. As far as I can tell they haven’t become frustrated and discontented spouses forced to share a beer with their dull neighbour who works as an insurance salesman. Likewise the mums who stay at home are far from desperate for intellectual stimulation and close to committing suicide.... Revolutionary Road it ain’t!

Obviously we all have different reasons for choosing to live where we do and our choices may change along with our circumstances. Contrary to the belief of some suburbanites, I don’t subscribe to the view that people will gravitate towards the suburbs when they have children. There are clearly children who will be raised in the city, whose school run will involve jumping on the London tube. I think it’s silly however to assume that one life is better or more fulfilling than the other. London is hugely diverse and there are no clear distinctions between city centres and peripheries. We find parks everywhere and some of the largest ones are located in the city centre so city kids do not have to be cooped up in one bedroom flats. The choice of living in Zone 4 or 5 and commuting by train should however not warrant a fear of life itself. That kind of attitude just plain silly if you ask me which I’m assuming you are. There are advantages and disadvantages for both residents of the city and the suburbs and the idea that one is better or more intellectually stimulating than the other reflects a thinking that is not even remotely routed in reality. It boils down to the individual and what they choose to do with their lives, if you’re dull in the burbs, chances are, you’re going to be dull in the city, trendy bars or not!