204
211 205
212 206
213 207
214 208
215 209
216 210
217 211
218 212
219 213
220 214
221 215
222 216
223 238
224 239
225 240
226 241
227 242
228 243
229 244
230 245
231 246
232 247
233 248
234 249
We Slaves of Suriname
Anton de Kom
Translated by David McKay
polity
Copyright Page
Wij slaven van Suriname © 1934/1983/2020 by Anton de Kom
© Introductions by Tessa Leuwsha, Mitchell Esajas, Duco van Oostrum (2020) and Judith de Kom (1983)
Originally published in Dutch as Wij slaven van Suriname by Uitgeverij Atlas Contact, Amsterdam.
This English edition © Polity Press, 2022
This publication has been made possible with financial support from the Dutch Foundation for Literature. The publisher gratefully acknowledges the support of the Dutch Foundation for Literature.
Polity Press
65 Bridge Street
Cambridge CB2 1UR, UK
Polity Press
101 Station Landing
Suite 300
Medford, MA 02155, USA
All rights reserved. Except for the quotation of short passages for the purpose of criticism and review, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 978-1-5095-4901-6 (hardback)
ISBN-13: 978-1-5095-4902-3 (paperback)
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2021942476
by Fakenham Prepress Solutions, Fakenham, Norfolk NR21 8NL
The publisher has used its best endeavors to ensure that the URLs for external websites referred to in this book are correct and active at the time of going to press. However, the publisher has no responsibility for the websites and can make no guarantee that a site will remain live or that the content is or will remain appropriate.
Every effort has been made to trace all copyright holders, but if any have been overlooked the publisher will be pleased to include any necessary credits in any subsequent reprint or edition.
For further information on Polity, visit our website: politybooks.com
Translator’s Note
Warning: This note mentions denigrating terms that express racist attitudes and may offend or upset some readers.
Although De Kom’s writing was in many respects ahead of its time, he uses terms for race and skin color that now seem quite dated and may occasionally confuse today’s readers. Rather than forcing him into a twenty-first-century mold, I have looked to English-language writing of the 1920s and 1930s for equivalents: books by Richard Wright, Zora Neale Hurston, and C.L.R. James.
These authors use the term “Indian” to refer to the indigenous peoples of both the Americas and the Indian subcontinent. Adjectives are often used to disambiguate, e.g. “Red Indian” and “British Indian.” (The term “West Indian,” used for all inhabitants of the West Indies regardless of race, adds another degree of complexity in James’s writings.) De Kom refers to the indigenous peoples of South America simply as “Indianen,” rendered here as “Indians,” or by terms such as “inheemsen” (“natives” or “indigenous people”), or often by the names of their specific peoples. He refers to the people of British India and the Surinamese people descended from them as “Brits-Indiërs” (“British Indians”), “Hindoestanen” (“Hindustanis”), and in two places “Hindoes” (“Hindus”).
Like Wright, Hurston, and James, De Kom is sparing in his use of capital letters in terms for race and skin color, using lower-case letters for the equivalents of “black,” “white,” “colored,” “maroon,” and “creole.” I have followed his example. De Kom also writes the Dutch term “neger” with a lower-case letter, but I translate this as “Negro” with a capital “N,” after my English-language models. This reflects the pride and self-respect with which De Kom uses the term “neger” and the distinct contrast with the highly offensive term “nikker” (rendered as “nigger”), which he reserves for expressions of the racism of the typical white colonist. “Neger” has become such a fraught term in contemporary Dutch that De Kom’s use of the word can be confusing or upsetting to twenty-first-century readers. “Negro” is actually less problematic in this respect; although it is now outdated, it is not generally seen as a term of abuse. In the introductions, the slightly different capitalization conventions reflect authorial preference and contemporary usage.
Some literary translators and other writers have recently argued that the use of italics for words regarded as foreign is an inherently racist or chauvinist practice, in that by drawing and emphasizing an absolute distinction between the native and the foreign, it reinforces invidious notions of cultural, national, and racial purity. I believe the intent and effect of this conventional use of italics
