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SURINAME MUSEUM OF BLACK HISTORY
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[QUOTE]Originally posted by Egmond Codfried: [QB] [IMG]http://www.rottgering.nl/denhaag_in_beeld/images/stationsbuurt/stationsbuurt-nw/images/eemstraat.jpg[/IMG] My street in The Hague: Eemstraat, named after the river Eem. In front the entrance to the storage rooms. Today was a special morning. I decided to spend a dime and called the renting agency to ask whether they accepted my written invitation for a pre-view of my museum. I was told that a letter was under way with which they wish me luck with my museum. That’s all I needed to hear, because they are the only factor that could spoil my plans. I have their blessing. But the nazi I spoke to said that I had to abide by the ‘agreement’ and cannot travel to Suriname for seven months in October to curate an exhibition around Independence Day 2012, about the 18th century Suriname independence movement, which I’m the sole person to write about. I simply told him I will go to Suriname and that no nazi will keep me a prisoner. Off course he was offended because nazi’s, like whores and faggots, do not like to be called what they are. I was forced on 27 September 2011, nearly by gun point, in a Dutch court room, to sign a paper and this is called ‘agreement.’ I consider myself an early victim of the holocaust they are planning, starting with the total dehumanising of the intended victim. I’m looked at as some slave, as they already have their Polish and Rumanian slaves, and traded women to be raped in special streets and whole neighbourhoods Holland dedicates to this industry. My aspirations and ambitions take me to Suriname, I cannot fly back every night, so they need to let me pursue my career in peace. In Holland as a Black writer and researcher who is not a house nigger; I’m an üntermensch, and nobody white seems to be able to understand that they were ruled by Blacks and their ancestors were shoe leather to these Blacks. I ate a wonderful Turkish brioche with a white cheese and sesame paste filling, with orange juice for breakfast. As I alighted from my abode, resplendent in red, I saw a blond beauty, slowly and elegantly walking, dressed in black, passing by. I had to cross my street so I could track beauty’s progress but I was apprehended by an older Dutch man, knowing what I was up to. So I could not rush after beauty to invite beauty to my museum. The old guy (1942), lugging his heart tablets, was visiting his old street, where he was born and lived till 1950. He informed me about what it looked like then, with a bakery store where we now have our storage, and I keep my many bikes. The bakery was ran by two women, a couple, who lived next door. There was a grocery on another corner, and where we today have a small square with shrubs and high cathedral like trees, was another block of houses. Today I saw a velvety black bird nesting in the shrubs. We agreed to keep contact and he will provide me with pictures, which I will display in the museum. [/QB][/QUOTE]
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