‘Stay the sweet city’

When I first looked at Amsterdam from the northern side of the IJ, it was as if the sea had stretched out its arms in the form of canals and wrapped them lovingly around the city. I saw a city without giant monuments, cathedrals and palaces, without huge squares and skyscrapers. A small city compared to Paris, London, Rome or New York, with a modest palace on Dam Square and a few historical monuments. Nevertheless, Amsterdam is a metropolis where 180 different nationalities live together.

Recently, I worked as an anthropologist on the research project Unprecedented Special, on the life stories and oral histories of refugees in four major cities in the Netherlands. The central questions concerned respondents' lives in the Netherlands and their contributions to the cities they live in. I interviewed only Amsterdammers and it soon struck me that most participants have a special connection with the capital city. For myself too, Amsterdam is more than a place of residence: the city where I have lived since 1989, where I studied and worked and where I witnessed numerous special events.

Pigeons with pigeons

‘Pigeons with pigeons, falcons with falcons, kind seeks kind,’ reads an expression in Persian. And I, a left-leaning woman from Iran, initially looked for my own kind in Amsterdam. Slowly but surely, I got to know all kinds of people and made friends.

A city, like its inhabitants, has its own story and its own ‘binary oppositions’: facets that are diametrically opposed. Similarly, Amsterdam has its own life with its dark, light, cold and warm sides. My Dutch friends told me a lot about Amsterdam and their life here. For instance, about the social system and the city's spirit of solidarity or about the bourgeoisie in the seventeenth century. About the rich ring of canals and the poor Jordaan that were built a short distance from each other. I also heard that the city already had religious freedom, or at least the ideal of ‘religious peace’, in the sixteenth century. And that in the 18th century, the Enlightenment philosopher Voltaire came to Amsterdam to be able to publish his books without censorship.

Dykes and polders

My friends told me about dykes and polders. And how fighting the water had fostered social cohesion and consensus in Amsterdam and the Netherlands. I wondered why the construction of thousands of kilometres of underground canals (qanats) in my native Iran had never led to a polder model. Perhaps it had to do with the rule of absolute powers, the eternal censorship of free speech and lack of a Protestant ethic....

A feminist told me about her childhood in World War II and about the February Strike in 1941. She also told me about Rembrandt, about the free spirit of the city, about Spinoza, the 1960s, the Dolle Mina women and the gay movement. And about her emancipation process as a lesbian woman.

Deep canyon

I heard about the city's dark past from an anarchist. He lectured me on the VOC, slavery history, NSB members and the Anne Frank House. He also liked to talk about the squatting movement and the Provos, or Amsterdam's role in the international drug trade. Sometimes he was angry about the state of affairs in his city, such as the deep socio-cultural divide between Muslim immigrants and the rest of society.

One day I was standing in the large marble hall of the Tropical Institute. Opposite me, on the wall from the first half of the twentieth century, I saw two unusual paintings entitled The West on the one hand and The East on the other side. A scientist and his microscope, a factory and a train represented the West, an Indonesian farmer and his cow ploughing a rice field the East. A third painting made a connection between the two: The Collaboration. These images reminded me of the Orientalist vision of the colonial era, which is still present - consciously and unconsciously - in interpersonal interactions.

The hearts of the city

My first intimate encounter with the city took place on a warm summer evening in August 1989. When I witnessed the annual Prinsengracht concert from the balcony of a house, which was still under scaffolding. A stage lay in the canal among dozens of boats and an enthusiastic crowd. After the concert, the audience sang the classic On Amsterdam's canals. I was immediately sold.

In my mind, Dam Square and Museum Square are the two hearts of the city. Two special places where tourists walk around and city dwellers party and demonstrate. On 21 March 1992, I was at Museumplein along with eighty thousand other people to protest against racism and xenophobia. That was the biggest demonstration of its kind until then. At that time, I belonged and lived in a safe city. I felt at home and proud of the people of Amsterdam.

Anger and pride

On 2 November 2004, thousands of people gathered again, on Dam Square, to protest against a terrible and barbaric act of terror: the murder of Theo van Gogh. My heart was beating in my throat and I watched the furious faces. I expected harsh retaliation in the city. But fortunately Mayor Cohen was able to pull things together in time. Amsterdammers were very angry but nobody did anything crazy. Since then, I often think about the limits of freedom of speech. For me, that freedom is sacred, but I also know that the price we pay for it is often very high.

Of a very different order, but equally unforgettable, was a sunny afternoon in July 2010. A coloured rain, a waterfall of orange flowers on Museumplein, cascaded down from the sky. It was the day of the inauguration of the Dutch team after the World Cup in South Africa. The Netherlands lost to Spain and became number 2 in the world. I walked along the canals all afternoon. Half a million people, in orange attire, stood there waiting for their heroes who did not come home with the world title. I did not believe my eyes: the down-to-earth Dutchman turned out to be able to express his feelings in an extreme way. The city was upside down. I have never seen such a party in Amsterdam again, not even on Koningsdag.

An offering on Dam Square

Curiously, the capital lacked an asylum seekers' centre until recently, even though it has been a safe haven for refugees over the centuries. In August 2016, the first AZC opened, on Amsterdam's Wenckebachweg across the Amstel river.
Unfortunately, something shocking happened in the heart of Amsterdam on 6 April 2011. On that day, Kambiz Roustayi, a failed refugee from Iran, set himself on fire in front of the National Monument on Dam Square. A day later, he died of his injuries. It was very painful that a refugee who had spent 11 years in proceedings finally committed suicide in front of this monument, a symbol of freedom. He wanted to make a statement with his suicide, it was a political act. But some of the reactions of city residents were also shocking. For instance, there were witnesses who complained that they wondered why Roustayi had to bother them with his terrible act precisely on Dam Square. They could not understand why he wanted to sacrifice himself in the hope that his act would have a cathartic effect on Dutch asylum policy.

Fraternisation and tears

I cannot imagine Amsterdam without Ajax. On 14 July 2017, something special happened in the city, following a sad event. A large group of Amsterdammers and Ajax players gathered at the home of Abdelhak Nouri, 20-year-old Ajax player from Geuzenveld. Hundreds of people stood at his parental home to show their respect, support and sympathy to the family. Nouri, one of the best players in the world, suddenly lost consciousness on the pitch on 8 July and suffered irreparable brain damage. Since then, Nouri has been honoured time and again on the football fields.

I saw this scene on TV: Nouri's father, standing from the sunroof of a car, thanking people. Very moving. This intimate event was immediately given a place in Amsterdam's history museum, and in the hearts of the city's residents. A special moment in the city's history, when Muslims and non-Muslims finally came together and did something special in their own way - praying as well as setting off fireworks - to express their condolences and emphasise their solidarity.
With tears in his eyes, Mayor Eberhard van der Laan mentioned this event during Summer guests on TV “a moment of fraternisation in the city.” What beautiful and justified words! Once again, I felt at home and I repeated to myself what the mayor said afterwards, ‘Stay the sweet city’.

Image: Nissim Men