Cleaning out history

A quiet little day, today. Woke up to get myself vaccinated at the GGD...had three shots in total, against Hepatitis A, polio, and a host of other chemical cocktails which are supposed to keep me free from diease. I've never been to a country where I needed to prepare so thoroughly before hand. The malaria, Hepatitis B, rabies and dengue fever drugs I could not take in, because it's too short notice. I actually needed to start going to vaccination like two months ago, but left it till the last week. My arms are sore.

Then I went to pick up my passport at the Taipe Representative Office (de-facto embassy which issues visas for Taiwan). I was a bit worried, because a year ago I had tried to get my Taiwanese passport renewed, but it turned out I could only do so if I filed a missing/stolen report at the police. I didn't do that, and tried to forget about it, but it's of course been at the back of my mind often. I'm worried what the police will think when I file a report of a passport gone missing for so many years, and what they will think when I already have the Dutch nationality.
Like I often imagine, how wonderful it would be not to have nationalities, to come and go as people like...and not to struggle constantly for identity, for belonginess...a passport is just a gateway, an open door, so many say...but to me, to me who personalises all things, it's an identity, a measure of who you are, and how people look at you. And it's unpleasant if you hold a nationality, but do not identify. But that's just me.

The lady at the embassy was quite nice, and she told me not to worry too much. Double nationality is common, and the police will not question
why I've come so late. And then she mentioned the politics behind the Taiwanese nationality...it's not even recognised, so that should not be too much of a problem. And then it dawned on me how poorly the country I am orignally from is treated (again). On my out, as I cycled, I thought about many things...the idignity, first of all, of having a passport that is not recognised, but then strangely is more useful to travel with than many other countries' passports! Then I thought of how Taiwanese people are viewed by the international community...what kind of people are they? Are they nomads? Are they nationality-less? Who are they? Where do their rights lie? Which state governs them? What status do they have as world citizens? Bizarre. And dispicable.

My mind then wondered off to things I've pondered on...how does international law apply or not to Taiwan? Does the country even have to comply with international law at all? And what are the protections, or the lack of, that the state, government and people of Taiwan guaranteed? Harrowing questions. And still unanswered.

As I cycled, I thought: one day, they will see. One day, they will see what great injustic0,e and what flippant and baseless denial of the most basic human right to recognition they have all been party to. Someday.

Then I went to centrum, in search of some gifts. Spent almost three hundred euros, just on tea, Strepsil, books, clogs, cookies and foot cream...all for relatives and friends. It is a society based on gift-giving, based on face, politeness and kindness. Especially when you come home from abroad, coming empty hands is definitely a no-no.
So, my suitcase is three-quaters full....full of gifts!

The past few hours I've spent clearing out some old piled up rubbish, packing things into boxes, and preparing/filtering the things I might need for the few months ahead. Sifting through dusty old files, papers, clothes and boxes, you realise what you've done, or not done. All these papers, documents, pictures, writings and collections of brochures, handouts and notes I've put together over the years. All there. When I see some of these things, I think, when am I ever going to use or read all this again? But then I imagine myself, older, probably retired, and getting out all these papers to read. I wonder now what I should safe, what I should throw away to remove the burdens and loads of moving almost yearly...but it all seems like treasure to me!

Every piece of paper, every word ever written, a recording of a place, time, people and experiences! Throwing into the rubbish bin, I feel like betraying history. A sense of guilt, and shame. Maybe not life changing history worth remembering or recording, and maybe not history that is worth songs or praise, but history nonetheless.
SOAS paychecks, the pink forms you get back when you handed an essay in, accomodation searches in London, contracts of mobile phones, newspaper cutouts, articles which once inspired me (but which I probaly forgot the contents of...), pictures of old friends and times that were, cards written by friends who had long left and may never see again, brochures of Madurodam, prospectuses of Rotterdam and Museum voor Volkenkunde (met Kuifje naar de Incas...), diary entries from years ago written with pen and ink which I had feared would fade with time, bank statements, old fotos, etc etc etc etc...
and most of all,
old memories.