1995 - The UnDutchables (17 page)

The existence of soft drug establishments, which were first introduced in 1975, relies on the national obsession with social tolerance being a greater force than the law. The 1976 Opium Act prohibits the importing, trafficking and possession of ‘soft,’ succulent smoking substances. However, possession and selling of less than 30 grams are classed as mere misdemeanours (along with riding a Bike without lights at night, or pissing in public places). The Dutch Government’s stamp of non-disapproval comes with carefully Grafted comments: ‘
We see no harm in possessing or using softdrugs…
,’ announced a Ministry of Justice spokesvroMH’, ‘…(
users) stop after a certain age. We hope people who want to try soft drugs don’t go to people who sell hard drugs
.’

The question arises as to how the Hash Cafes restock their supplies, since no traffic jams caused by wholesalers delivering their goods in 30g increments are ever reported. ‘
I don’t know
,’ confessed an Amsterdam police spokesman. ‘
I can’t tell you that
,’ revealed the proprietor of one such establishment.

The current generation of
cloggies
are mavens in soft drugs. Hash Cafes stock various varieties of seeds and young plants, soil enrichers and pots. For the more serious smoker, proprietors are only too willing to guide customers in their purchases by process of elimination based on the anticipated growing-environment:

• indoors, outdoors, greenhouse
  
• harvesting time
  
• direction of prevailing natural light
  
• soil.
  

The local authorities keep their lenient eyes on the industry, estimated at
HFL
650 million per year. If a marijuana merchant exceeds the tolerance zone, the enterprise is closed down. Although ventures such as pre-cooked ‘Space Cakes’ and the ‘Blow Home Courier Service’ have been forced to close, others such as the Hash Taxi (see Chapter 3) are encouraged to continue.

Hard drugs are less openly traded. The merchants comprise an army of solicitors of various minority groups who hustle for customers at main railway stations, monuments, public parks, youth centres, red light districts, etc. In theory, possession of hard drugs is illegal. In practice, users are not arrested; only the (bulk) dealers are liable for prosecution.

For some years, an ‘innovative approach’ was to give the dealers and junkies their own part of town—the Zeedijk in Amsterdam—where they were allowed to do business. The idea was to be kind and open to dealers and junkies while concentrating their activities to a specific area. The result? In the words of Eduard van Thijn, then Mayor of Amsterdam, ‘
We thought we could be tolerant and still control hard drugs. We were very naive
.’

One of the constructive aspects of the Dutch view on the unfortunate reality of hard drug addiction is that the authorities adopt the attitude that ‘
These people are ill and should be helped, not persecuted
.’ In support of this doctrine, methadone buses freely distribute this substance in major cities to help addicts withdraw from their dependence on heroin. The buses stop at known points in the city for about an hour and a half to dispense the drug free of charge.

Convictions for drug trafficking (and other criminal activities) are sometimes never served. With prisons stocked to capacity and due to the Dutch tendency towards forgiveness, sentences are often extremely lenient. Prison terms are served on a space availability basis. Thus, a criminal (sorry, ‘victim of society’) will be released upon conviction, pending an empty cell. If a criminal does go to jail, chances are his or her stay will be carried out in relative comfort. The idea is to provide the prisoners with as normal a lifestyle as possible. At Schutterswei, a jail in Alkmaar, prisoners are paid around
HFL
55- a week. Many use the money to decorate and furnish their private ‘cells’ with televisions, stereos, pets and, of course, a
koffie-
maker. A special private visitor’s room—‘sex cell’—is provided, complete with furniture (including a bed), paintings and carpet. Other privileges, or in this case RIGHTS, include wearing one’s own clothing, access to a kitchen to cook one’s own meals if so desired, the right to vote, freedom to speak to journalists and a system for expressing and debating complaints.

It is part design and part necessity that the Dutch have instigated forms of ‘alternative punishment’ and ‘educational projects’ in order to rehabilitate their victims of society. Such forms of punishment may include a 22-day excursion to a mountain camp on the Mediterranean coast, enjoying the local countryside and cuisine.

Consequently, theft from automobiles is commonplace, as is pickpocketing and similar crimes. To have your car broken into and the
HFL
500- radio-cassette player stolen is considered no big event.

The attitude of the police? One of inconvenience—your ex-property will be on sale in a bar the next evening where you can buy it back for
HFL
60-, and you must be grateful for such a bargain!

It must be said that the Dutch are, as a nation, appreciative of music—contemporary and otherwise. Cities and towns provide a wealth of music venues to suit all tastes and (sub)cultures. Even small villages sport at least one location where varied, live music can be heard.

Music lovers? Yes. Innovators? No.
Cloggies
love to copy. Be it classical, traditional, modern or free-form jazz, they will copy recognized, accomplished performers to the last semi-quaver. In Amsterdam alone, one can walk along the inner-city shopping precincts on a Saturday and revel in a multiplicity of street- and
cafe
-musicians including at least:

• one Dutch highland bagpiper, complete with full Scots regalia of bearskin, tunic and kilt/sporran
  
• one Dutch traditional Irish session group, equipped with fiddles, mandolins, bodhran drums, bones and pints of Guinness
  
• one Dutch Mozart string quartet, optionally dressed in jeans or tails, and displaying music stands containing faded, manuscript sheet music
  
• dozens of contemporary-bard stereotypes of the 1960’s Dylan/Donovan variety, equipped with aging acoustic guitar and tattered guitar case (covered in stickers) at their feet for ‘contributions.’
  

Yet Holland is a country for the young at heart. And the food of youth is Rock ‘n Roll. In Amsterdam, Rock venues abound, openly selling mainly-imported Hard Rock music, alcohol and drugs to the age group 14+. Inaptly described as ‘multi-media centres’ or ‘youth clubs,’ the more infamous include the Paradise and the Melkweg in the equally infamous Leidseplein area. Rotterdam and The Hague have their equivalents.

On a less lavish scale, but by no means small in number are the Rock Cafes—bars steaming with ‘heavy metal’ fans who drink, smoke and dope their way to oblivion between the hours of 8 pm and 2 am.

The drink is the locally-brewed Heineken or Amstel Pilsener beer. The smoke-and-dope is mainly cigarettes (
Camel
brand for the males and liberated females;
Pall Mall
for the females and liberated males), marijuana and hashish—all washed down with lashings of hot Rock music, provided via the medium of modern, high-quality Japanese electronics.

THE FLYING DUTCHMAN—export models

I only miss Holland when I’m in Holland
.

—Paul Verhoeven, Hollywood Film Director, 1992

Dutch persons migrate. They have to. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t all fit in Holland. When they migrate, they take their
clogginess
with them and shed it kilo-by-kilo as their newly-adopted culture requires, with a pinch of protest thrown in for good measure. Some traits persist; some are relinquished willingly, others begrudgingly.

They migrate through an osmosis-like process whereby they assimilate into their new-found culture so easily and so well that even they at times appear to forget their roots.

But they rarely lose their heritage and revert to type whenever convenient or satisfying for the ego.

To the uninitiated, the reasons
cloggies
emigrate may appear rather illusive. Dutch immigrants like to make reference to profundities such as: ‘
for certain reasons’, ‘for my own choice’, ‘because of various thingsthat are important to me
,’ but will rarely tell you WHY. It soon becomes apparent that the main factor for leaving Heaven is MORE: more money, more living space, more freedom from domineering relatives, more opportunities. In terms of emigration for economics, the Dutch are no different than anyone else. When it comes to crowds and nosy, interfering relatives, they have more to escape from than most. Immigration allows them to shed those properties that they felt compelled to conform to as a part of their devout Dutchness.

They take refuge in such places as Australia, Canada, New Zealand, South Africa, the USA and their ex-colonies. The wooden shoes, windmills, dikes, and so forth, are packaged and go with them. These symbols are subsequently summoned to perform services, as required. Once successfully migrated, the post-Holland Hollander will immediately pronounce ‘
Ja! I am Dutch, but I am not like the others. I would not be here and now if I was!
’

When challenged, many view their homeland as Utopia corrupted: ‘
How Holland has changed since I was there!
’ It is as if THEIR parting has turned Someren into Sodom and Groningen into Gommorah.

They love to BE Dutch and to knock it at the same time. They abhor the image of the three W’s, tulips and blond-plaited maidens in traditional costume and rigorously reprimand their unwitting hosts who (dare) associate these superficial symbols with Holland. Yet when the same people need some heritage or history, out come the wooden shoes, windmills, tulips and feigned costumes.

The break is not always complete. Friends and relatives flock to the new nest. The prospect of a cheap vacation and visiting a foreign land without the encumbrance of travel inconveniences is irresistible to those left behind. Although such rekindling can be
leuk
(nice) where (grand)children are concerned, it also volunteers to be a pain for the re-liberated emigrants who have to be constantly reminded of WHO and WHAT they are, and from WHENCE they came:

The Dutch people I know come to visit from Holland, uninvited, for 12 weeks or so. During that time, they expect more or less to be catered to, to be driven around and expect you to tour with them whether you have work to do or not. They don’t think they have to help with the grocery bill, but they WILL tell you when the beer is gone or there are no more chips. Only in the last four years have I come to think of this as IMPOSING on people in a major way
.

—M. Mol, British Columbia

The degree to which the immigrants retain or relinquish specific values varies from land to land. In some cases, local politics and/or economics have eradicated certain of the most beloved behaviours. The influence of the local culture and customs, and freedom from former social and bureaucratic pressures, also play a significant role in this reshaping process. One factor in the equation appears to be the size of the country in question. In this respect, the general rule seems to be:

Retention of national nature is inversely proportional to the size of the adopted land mass
.

A common factor is that the immigrants feel no compunction about enlisting the local labour as servants whenever and wherever customary. Far away from their homeland, they feel no guilt or remorse at ‘exploiting’ their fellow human beings in a way that would cause widespread disquiet back home. It appears to be justified by:

• the old adage
  When in Rome
  …
  
• We help the economy by providing employment
  .
  
• We treat them well
  .
  

Of late in some countries, there is a growing trend to reduce the number (or completely eliminate the use) of servants, but only ‘
because they are becoming more and more expensive. You must OVERPAY for their low productivity
.’

When abroad, all nationalities are drawn to memories of home, hence the success of English fish—‘n-chip shops, American hamburger joints and oriental restaurants.

Understandably, the Dutch cuisine (see Chapter 17) is not so represented, but another lifeline is: Beer. Usually paraded as ‘HEINEKEN EXPORT—brewed in Holland’ or the Amstel/Qrolsch equivalent, renegade Hollanders will flock to the stuff like iron filings to a magnet and orgasmically utter:

‘
Ahhh! [BRAND NAME]—so much better than [LOCAL BREW]!
’

and then confess:

‘
But this is entirely different to what is sold in Holland
.’

On realizing what they have just confessed to, a qualification is added:

‘
I think it is better. Only a Dutch brewery could do something like this!
’

This attitude is strongly endorsed by the breweries themselves. In the words of Alfred Lord Heineken;

We are a Rolls Royce abroad, in Holland just a normal beer
.

Oh, the humility of it all!

Nowhere is the concept of
cloggy
camaraderie more pronounced than in the seemingly endless supply of overseas Dutch clubs, friendship societies, newspapers, newsletters, gourmet shops, Tulip Festivals, Heritage Days and the inevitable Queen’s Birthday celebration. The latter events provide an excuse for genuine Dutch immigrants to dust off all the Neder-paraphernalia and related junk that they imported under the guise of ‘household goods’ and display it with gay (old definition) abandon as part of their heritage, tradition, etc.

Dutch fraternity is focused on just about anyone with a ‘
van
’ or ‘
de
’ in their name. The fate of these identity prefixes is interesting in itself.
Van de
and
Van der
either become a single prefix (
Vander Meulen
) or no prefix at all (
Vandergronden, Vandenberg
). The ‘
ij
’ becomes a ‘y’ (
Wijnbelt
to
Wynbelt
). The spellings of some names are changed to facilitate pronunciation (
Geert
and
Gert
melt into
Kert
). This process of identity preservation-integration is epitomized in a plea from a newsletter published by the New Zealand-Netherlands Society Oranje Auckland, Inc., which published a request for readers to submit ideas for a society logo. The plea gave the following suggestions: