I live in the Netherlands, where I have come to learn more about the history of people from Ghana and other parts of Africa who were taken away from the continent during the era of slavery, including around the time of the abolition of slavery in the Dutch colonies in 1863.
Many of these people were brutally mistreated. Some died during the journey, while others were taken to plantations and forced to work under inhumane conditions. People were transported from different parts of Africa, including Southern Africa, and some were taken by ships to places such as Indonesia, which was then part of the Dutch colonial empire.
What hurts me most is that, when I think about the school curriculum we were taught as Africans, particularly as Southern Africans, we were rarely taught about this part of our own history. Instead, we were expected to learn extensively about European wars, Hitler, and European history. We were taught to understand the suffering of others, yet very little was said about the suffering of our own ancestors and the role that European colonial powers played in it.
Now, as more information has become available and the truth about our shared history is being openly discussed, many of us are beginning to understand what was hidden or overlooked for generations.
Our ancestors’ stories still live with us. There are people living in the Netherlands today whose ancestors were taken from Africa and other parts of the world and forced to live in societies built through colonialism, plantations, and slavery. Others came to Europe generations later in search of a better life, only to discover that the history of their ancestors was still deeply connected to the countries in which they now live.
The Netherlands has acknowledged aspects of this history and has offered apologies for the role played by the Dutch state in slavery and colonialism. Monuments and memorials have also been established in different cities to remember those who suffered.
Today, many descendants are returning to Africa to visit the lands of their ancestors and search for their roots. For many, this is not simply tourism. It is an emotional journey of reconnecting with a history that was interrupted by violence, displacement, and loss.
It is painful to realise that parts of our history—and, in a sense, parts of our identity—are scattered across different parts of the world, connected to places where our ancestors were brutally mistreated physically, psychologically, and emotionally. These wounds are not easily healed because generations have inherited the consequences of what happened.
This is also why I find it difficult to understand why traditions such as Sinterklaas, particularly the Black Pete tradition historically associated with it, have remained so controversial in the Netherlands. To me, it is deeply uncomfortable to see traditions associated with racial stereotypes being defended in a country that is home to people from many different cultures and backgrounds. Traditions should be examined critically when they cause harm or reinforce stereotypes about other human beings.
An apology can be an important first step, but sometimes an apology alone is not enough. True reconciliation requires education, remembrance, honest conversations, and a willingness to confront uncomfortable parts of history.
There is no way to truly move forward without taking time to remember the ancestors who died during these journeys, those who were forcibly removed from their homes, and those who were killed or died under the brutal conditions of slavery and colonialism. Their lives should not be reduced to numbers in history books. They were human beings with families, cultures, dreams, names, and stories.
Understanding this history has made me more deeply connected to my culture than ever before. It has taught me that knowing where we come from is an important part of understanding who we are. I will continue to protect and honour my culture, my ancestors, and my identity, and I will never accept anything that seeks to tear me away from them.
