If you live in the Netherlands and have a thick non-Dutch accent, it is inevitable for you to get questions about where you’re from. About 70% of the time when I say that I’m from Curaçao, I get comments like “really? I wouldn’t have thought that you were! You act so differently than the ones I hear about”. In an attempt to not paint these people as prejudice and judgmental, I have decided to analyze what makes me, and I’m sure many others, so not-yu’i-Korsou.

Obviously I am risking extreme embarrassment and shunning. Just so you know.

First of all, there is my use of language. I couldn’t speak eloquent and proper Dutch to save my life, but it is my native language. I speak it approximately 10.8x better than Papiamentu, but 7.8x worse than English. I understand Papiamentu better than Dutch sometimes, but I was not raised speaking it. Every time I would speak it, and I’m sure some Dutch people on Curaçao can empathize, I would get laughed at or mocked. It got a little annoying. Ironically enough, I speak it more in the Netherlands than I did on Curaçao.

Secondly, there is my knowledge concerning Curaçao. I can barely name all the Indian tribes that lived on the island; I still need to ask my parents how to get to Mahuma; I keep forgetting how many people live on Curaçao (I once told someone “I think about 500,000”. My mom almost disowned me from the family); I can only half-tell you the story of Tula and that other guy; I can only name three Curaçaoean artists, one of which I got private classes from (so she doesn’t really count)- you get the gist of it, right? No need to dig my own grave any deeper.

Thirdly, there is not one authentic Kriyoyo meal that makes my eyes roll to the back of my head in enjoyment. Kabritu stobá (stewed goat), piská ku funchi (corn flour with fish), karkó (conch meat), sop’i yuana (iguana soup), aros moro (like peas and rice)- none of these make my heart skip a beat and they’re all traditional recipes that every yu’i Korsou should like. I barely tried half of them. And in this same trend- I can’t cook to save my life. My Curaçao and Suriname roots have epically failed me.

Lastly, I only know the basics of the political situation on Curaçao. I know it’s driving some people to the edge and others to a state of depression, but I would not be able to tell you exactly why. The only time I learn something new about the situation, is when I talk to the older generation of the island.

I think I’ll leave it at this to prevent myself any further embarrassment.

But even though I’m not the greatest at her politics or history or language or food- Curaçao is, and forever will be, the only place my heart belongs to.

…Queue the cheesy music.

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