To be and yet not to be

by guest blogger Karen Monesi

I am a Dutch Citizen, holder of a Dutch passport since 1985 when the Feminists got their way and offspring of a Dutch Mother became entitled to receive their citizenship, something which had been an XY chromosome privilege up to that time.

I still remember my parents’ joy (my father is Brazilian) when we received the unexpected letter from the Dutch Consulate in Sao Paulo, Brazil. At that time, even though the European Community was still in its cradle, we knew that having a passport from any of its countries would give us free transit in Europe. So, off we went to the Consulate and had our passports done.

Actually my parents weren’t wrong – these passports did open doors for us. My brother has been on a 2 years assignment in Luxembourg and one of the reasons why he was chosen was because he was a European citizen. He afterwards lived in Wales (some people might find this is not really an advantage but, hey, it was good for his career! [Ed. - no Welsh jokes please, it's not the Weakest Link you know!]) Life is easy when you have one: no queues at the airport, no time constraints about how long you can stay in Europe. No struggle. You’re just one of the gang. Period.

In 2003 I decided to honor my Dutch genes and roots. I packed 2 suitcases, sold my car, rented my apartment and landed in Amsterdam. Absolutely decided to learn Dutch and after 3 months I was able to do some small talk. A year later I decided to enroll for a language course – NATT (in Dutch, it means “Dutch as Second Language”) – at the University of Amsterdam.

When you enroll for these they request you to rate yourself from 1 to 6, 1 being absolute beginners and 6 the most advanced level you can reach. I considered myself a level 4. After this, you have to take a written test and have an interview with the Principal. According to her, after correcting my test and speaking the whole time in Dutch with me, I was definitely on level 6.

After attending the classes and having my Certificate, you’d assume that my Dutch skills were very good – so did I. However, every time I say something in Dutch to a Dutch person in the Netherlands they answer me in English. Very few exceptions allowed me to practice and I am very grateful to them. It has always been beyond my capacity to understand how come my language skills were good enough to have a conversation with a University Professor but not with a waiter or shop attendant (which, most of the time, are also University students). Really. The part that hurts is to hear many Dutch people saying that “so many foreigners have been living here forever and can’t say a word of Dutch”. Maybe they can, if you give them a chance?!

Every time I meet a Dutch person abroad they say: “But you are not Dutch” – and I have then to flash them my passport – which they return to me afterwards with a bitter grin, saying: “Yes, you are”. Hearing that I am not Dutch used to hurt me – nowadays, I just reply with a large grin – “No, I am not, I’m just a passport holder”. Or, if I am in a different mood: “No, fortunately not”, never knowing if they got the sarcasm in my voice.

I still treasure my European citizenship and wouldn’t change my papers for gold. Moving back to the Netherlands, however, is out of question. To be and yet not to be – sometimes it’s not even funny…

Karen can be contacted by email on karen_monesi@hotmail.com