Blog
Surinamese adventures: are you experienced?
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Suriname was one of the first countries that entered my travel bucket list and there were a few reasons for that. First, there was Orlando, my friend’s father, who was born and raised in Suriname. He used to tell us these fantastic childhood memories, that triggered my imagination.
I started to read about Suriname. Books such as ‘The Queen of Paramaribo’, about Maxi Linder, the most famous prostitute of Suriname. Back in her days, she financially took care of the underprivileged. Sadly enough she died as a lonely spinster, in a dirty backroom. I also read all the historical novels of Cynthia McLeod, about the history of Suriname. Dutch colonisation, life at the plantations, slavery.
About Friendship & Red Ribbons: World AIDS Day
Have you ever met someone with whom you immediately had such a strong connection, that you were sure that you had been friends in a previous life? It happened to me about 10 years ago, during a weekend break in São Paulo. He had a smile that blew my socks off, a boyish twinkle in his eyes, a full of life energy, and a mouth that really never (ever!) stopped talking. I was fascinated by him and he was fascinated by me, and that’s how it happened. We became best friends.
We started to hang out together. A lot. Roaming the streets and bars of our home town Rio de Janeiro, drinking and dancing, laughing and joking, discussing life, politics, music, sharing our dreams, our fears, our feelings. We knew everything about each other. At least, I thought we did.
Storytelling for peace in Palestine
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I am standing in a bomb shelter in a kibbutz, somewhere between the beaches of Eilat and the barbed-wired border of Jordan. It’s extremely hot. The rattling air conditioning is working overtime. Outside the Negev desert stretches itself out, with its more than 13,000 km² of sand, stones and rocks.
Around me is a group of Brazilians. They are with twenty of them, and one is even louder than the other. They make jokes with each other, giggle, play around, slap each other on the back, laugh out loud, and give a cheerful edge to the stale air of the small room. They came here as part of a Brazilian government program, to learn the art of organic farming from the kibbutz population. And me?
From Paraguay with love: when home’s not home
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My friends always joke I am from Paraguay.
Paraguay. That small South-American country with less than 7 million inhabitants, sandwiched between Brazil, Bolivia and Argentina. Famous for its hot lowlands and lush rainforest, its capital Asuncion, its Guaraní Indians, its Jesuits, its cowboys and its good meat.
But do you know where Paraguay is most famous for? It’s for its fake products.
And this is the country my friends joke I am from.
They couldn’t be more wrong though, as I come from Noordwijk, a small seaside town not far from Amsterdam.
World Tuberculosis Day: the power of storytelling
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Yesterday it was World Tuberculosis Day. For most people, tuberculosis is “a disease from the past” and something very distant from their life. But did you know that tuberculosis is the number 1 most deadly infectious disease in the world and one of the ten most common causes of death? The numbers don’t lie: every year 10 million people get infected by the disease and more than 1.5 million people die from it. That’s more than 4,000 people a day! Totally unnecessary, as tuberculosis is preventable and curable.
Years ago I worked on a tuberculosis project in some favelas in Rio de Janeiro.
Alternative Ways to use storytelling
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Paris. City of love, the Eiffel Tower, grand cafes and the best croissants in the world. More than 21 years ago I was here for the last time. France had become world champion for the first time by beating the Brazilians with 3-0. Deliriously happy Frenchmen were hanging from windows everywhere, singing the “Marseillaise” out loud and waving their red-white-blue frenetically. The city was one big mayhem and you could feel the unity right within the depths of your body.
Now, 21 years later, the reality is quite different. “Please be careful,” I hear more than once, when I tell people that I’m going to Paris for work.
