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What about the goats?

30/4/2018

1 Comment

 
Picture this: multiple goats perched on top of a rusty, abandoned car, their long necks stretching, heads reaching up to nibble on the last few leaves of a clearly nutrient deficient Indju (Mesquite) tree. To me, this image would be characteristic of ‘my’ native Caribbean space (the Dutch Leeward Antilles, specifically Curaçao). Yes, I do know, there are still some herds roaming the island. Now, it is honestly not my intention to idealize the hairy, odorous creatures of my goat riddled past. Without reverting to a migrant’s romanticizing of past and homeland or to a type of ‘keñismo’[i], I would like to remark that the sight of a herd of goats crossing the street is an increasingly rare sight on 21st century Curaçao.
 
I grew up surrounded by these goats. Ok, that might be a tad exaggerated, but I did deal with flesh and blood goats[ii] on a daily basis. As a child I helped to collar goats with makeshift wooden collars so they wouldn’t escape into the mondi (bush). I remember herds of goats blocking roads, goats looking for food and shelter from the burning sun, goats lying in the shade watching us wearily. I remember the sight of my beloved dog after he mauled a goat. The shock, the disgust and at the same time the secret pride at his fierceness. I remember the washing out of the dog’s bloody mouth with the garden hose in an attempt to obscure the grizzly evidence of the goat killing. My co-carnivorous Caribbean natives will no doubt also relish when remembering the taste of delicious goat stew. My preference goes to Kabes ku igra (goat’s head and liver) soup -which is arguably the GOAT[iii] goat dish. Very enjoyable indeed. Meanwhile, the goats enjoyed themselves nibbling at the few green plants left. I remember them sneaking up to the house and eating my mother’s precious bougainvillea beneath the burning mid-day sun. Years later I started to connect the lack of lush green on the island to the omnipresence of these goats.
 
Maybe you’re wondering why this piece about goats. Well, just like no makeshift collar can stop a really determined goat from escaping through the fence, often there is no reeling in the wandering mind of an academic. Even one inspired by a particularly interesting lecture. As it turns out, these goats were on my mind while listening to the informative and enlightening account on ‘Critical Thinking in Curaçao and the Construction of Forgetting’ of the distinguished Richard Ansano at the University of Amsterdam this month.
 
During his lecture Ansano emphasized the importance of thinking beyond academia: “Critical presence is the presence that tries to restore balance”. He discussed projects promoting the development of critical thinking and the formulation of collective identity on Curaçao in the 20th and 21st century. I would like to highlight two points of interest: Firstly, in his lecture he pinpointed a movement of Dutch Caribbean youngsters directed towards (re)discovering ‘their identity’. This generation, he said, was “bringing something new to the table”. He also emphasized the importance of the idea of ‘honoring the elders’ and of the past in these new (re)constructions of identity.
Secondly, he offhandedly referred to non-human critical agents, which of course made me wonder about his take on non-human agency in a Curaçaoan setting and on how non-human agents could aid in the development of critical thinking within the Curaçaoan community. Answering my question, Ansano referred to nature/vegetation as one of these non-human agents and stressed on the importance of a “restoration” of people’s relationship with nature. This was the moment the goats entered my mind, wandering, nibbling and being served up with half a scotch bonnet and slice of lime.
 
Ansano’s accounts of the need for restoration of balance between humans and nature and of Curaçaoan youth’s emphasis on past heroes, both seemed to involve a sense of reverence with regards to the past. From my perspective, one key element of both creativity and of the daring act of critical thinking, is the opposite: irreverence. When his account collided with my image of the goats devouring the island vegetation and of us devouring the flesh of goats, I felt compelled to question how we can remain critical and creative within a context that centralizes a reverence or (partial) restoration of the past.
 
This is why In the spirit of the playful, irreverent creative act that is critical thinking, I would like to suggest a parallel between my goats and the concept of choosing and idealizing specific historical figures as teachers and heroes in the construction of collective identity and ask: is there room within the (re)construction and (re)valorization of the past for contradictory nature devouring goats and or imperfect goat eating heroes (GOATS)?

​
[i] A disease of ‘complaintism’, diagnosed by Curaçaoan scholar Richinel Ansano in his engaging keynote at the 14th International Conference on Caribbean Literature in Curaçao (2014) titled Beyond Gentle Giants and Suffering Citizens: Crafting the Courage to Write a New Nation by Writing the Land.

[ii] Not to be confused with LL Cool J’s use of the acronym GOAT which totally coincidentally happens to stand for Greatest Of All Time.

[iii] Greatest Of All Time.
 
En de geiten dan?

Stel je een aantal geiten voor. Ze staan op een roestige auto en strekken hun nek uit om de laatste blaadjes van een op sterven na dode indju-boom op te eten. Voor mij is dit beeld karakteristiek voor ‘mijn’ deel van het Caribisch gebied (de benedenwindse eilanden en dan met name Curaçao). Ja, ik weet dat nog steeds wel wat kuddes de eilanden onveilig maken. Het is niet mijn bedoeling om deze harige en onwelriekende beesten uit mijn verleden te idealiseren. Zonder te vervallen in romantisering van het verleden of van mijn moederland zou ik willen stellen dat bovenstaande een steeds zeldzamer beeld is op de Curaçao van de 21ste eeuw.
 
Misschien is het iets overdreven om te zeggen dat ik omringd door geiten ben opgegroeid, maar het scheelde niet veel. Geiten waren een bekend element in het straatbeeld en op ons bord, waar we mateloos van konden genieten. Ondertussen genoten de geiten van al het groen wat zich op het eiland bevond. Pas lange tijd daarna begon ik een verband te zien tussen de kaalgevreten mondi (bos/struikgewas) en de aanwezigheid van de vele geiten.
 
Ik moest aan deze geiten denken gedurende de lezing van Richenel Ansano aan de Universiteit van Amsterdam begin april. Gedurende zijn zeer interessante lezing over kritisch denken en de constructie van vergetelheid op Curaçao (‘Critical Thinking in Curaçao and the Construction of Forgetting’) benadrukte hij het belang van denken voorbij de academische wereld. Hij besprak verschillende projecten die kritisch denken op het eiland aanspoorden in de 20ste en 21ste eeuw. Ik zou twee punten uit de lezing willen benadrukken.
 
Allereerst vertelde Ansano over een focus op het (her) ontdekken van het verleden door de jongeren op het eiland. Hierbij benadrukte hij de rol van het eren van de voorouders en waarderen van het verleden. Ten tweede sprak hij over “niet menselijke kritische actoren” die van invloed zouden kunnen zijn op de ontwikkeling van kritisch denken. Dit riep bij mij vragen op over de aard van deze actoren en hoe ik me hun invloed zou moeten voorstellen. Een van deze actoren bleek de natuur te zijn. Ansano benadrukte het belang van het herstellen van een balans tussen mens en natuur.
 
Op dat moment moest ik dus aan die groen etende, heerlijke geiten denken. Ansano’s focus op balans en op het idee van het eren van ouderen door de jongere generatie lijkt samen te hangen met een eerbied voor het verleden. Vanuit mijn perspectief hangen zowel kritisch denken en creativiteit samen met het tegenover gestelde: een zeker gevoel van oneerbied. Ik zou daarom willen vragen hoe kritisch denken en creativiteit zich verhouden tot een focus die eerbied voor het verleden centraal stelt. Is er ruimte in dit perspectief voor gebrekkige helden?



1 Comment
Richenel Ansano
25/10/2019 03:09:24 pm

Beautiful reflection. For the sake of discussion I just want to add that my take on both human and non-human agency does not call for reverence of the past, although critical reflection on the past is important. Rather, it is a centering/focussing on emergent transpersonal being: the collective identities that emerge when we become truly dialogical/empathic with all beings around us (human, vegetal, mineral, other animal, spectral, chemical, all beings). So, not a historical framework, but rather an ethical and relational stance, which is totally irreverent of any imposed identity. It is also a stance of how we relate to each other in the here and now. It will certainly also touch on history, but always from a perspective of creating/sustaining current relationships with the emergent selves as main guide. I have been calling this "radical presence" for the past two decades.
Keep up the beautiful work!

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    Reflections on transnational Dutch Caribbean creative expressions and everyday life


    ​These blogs are also published in the Caribbean Studies Association (CSA) e-newsletter.

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