Amsterdam Nostalgia and Annoyance


A piece of Amsterdam as in the brochure (with filter and without tourists)

After my play time in Malta I returned to the Netherlands where summer was still present, but it wasn’t as hot as it once was. Yet again, I spent several weeks in Amsterdam at my dear friends Rick and Louis, who are like family, and whose loved-filled households has been one of my main pillars of stability and belonging this summer. Amsterdam in particular and the Netherlands in general haven’t been my home for a long time, but this summer especially, I’ve noticed I’ve become a whining former local, who is feeling rather nostalgic about the Amsterdam that once was.

An Amsterdam of Yesteryear

I spent my college years in Amsterdam in the last century. A time before the introduction of the euro, when work was plentiful, everyone had money and life was just generally rocking. We were young, hot and the world was most definitely our oyster. In those days too, Amsterdam was visited by many tourists, but the city and especially the city centre, was still very much a living city catering for the local community. Gentrification was still very limited and due to the housing crisis, squatting was still a housing option. At squatted properties there often was room for left-leaning political activity, cheap accommodation for artists and other perceived fringe people and alternative parties and not-so legal raves. Amsterdam still had many rough edges at the time, too many and too rough for some.

Watershed Moments

In the last decade and a bit, we got a new currency (the euro), different neighbourhoods gentrified considerably and some people thought that Amsterdam needed to attract more tourists. I am not sure if there is a relation between these factors, but in some respect, it all went downhill from there. Some ad-people came up with the slogan I AMSTERDAM, which they even turned into a landmark. Due to some heavy campaigning and perhaps a general increase of global tourist activity, the flood gates opened and foreigners came to visit the capital en masse. Studying and working abroad became far more normal than it used to be in the last century, and the combo of visiting and residing foreigners seemed to have turned Amsterdam, and especially the city centre, into an entity that could be described as something between a sleazy fairground, an open-air museum and a human zoo. Nowadays it is not uncommon at all to enter an establishment like a shop or restaurant in the city centre where no one speaks Dutch. Or you just walk around town for an hour or so and don’t hear a word of the national language. AirBnB-ing has gone through the roof and residents in the city centre, many of which were already a whining lot, seem to have lost their neighbourhood to tourists, who misbehave and have no respect for the local community. As Amsterdam always had the reputation of a liberal and tolerant city where anything goes, some visitors can’t quite handle the perceived freedom and lose control to great annoyance of the locals. Back in the days you wouldn’t find any tourists outside of the city centre or the upmarket neighbourhood of Oud-Zuid (Old South). Now you find the trolley suitcase-pulling masses in neighbourhoods not even snobbish locals wanted to be found dead in in another decade. Most of my child-rearing friends I have known since my college days, are happy with the polish of the city. The tourist masses in the city centre might be annoying, but the gentrification of more socially-challenged neighbourhoods means they have become more child-friendly. Also, houses prices have increased significantly, which is all good for those who bought their mansion in the last century or the first decade of the new millennium. I, however, can’t help but feeling a longing for the Amsterdam that once was.

The Cool that lost its Cool

The edginess, the spaces for unpolished art, the grotty squats and warehouses north of central station, where you could have a good party or two, that all is no more. Neither are affordable accommodation or an inexpensive meal in a pub. A capital city with a village feel, that was cool, has become a city that has totally lost its cool and is prostituting itself to all and sundry. Although, much to my surprise, I still seem to move about as a local as I am often asked for the way, like I still know this city like the back of my hand. But I don’t; I just got stuck in time. I am not against what is considered progression. My home town too has changed quite a bit in the last decade and a half. As it’s a university town, there are a fair amount of foreigners, but as its not on the tourist trail, it hasn’t been tempted to sell its soul to the tourism-devil. As an ueber left-leaning, quite intellectual and culture-loving town, it still has its edge as much as a provincial town can be edgy.

If you plan on visiting Amsterdam for the first time, I am sure you would love it, despite my whining. Yet, in my opinion, being a tourist in Amsterdam was much more fun 15 years ago. Now there are probably more tourists than locals in the city centre and unless they make money from tourism, most locals are pretty fed up with visiting holiday makers. Visit at your own discretion and don’t say I didn’t warn you about that the place being like a zoo or the locals treating you like shit.


European Drifting in an Endless Summer


flipfloplifejpgWith the exception of a couple of days, I haven’t stopped wearing open-toes shoes since I arrived in South Asia in February, escaping the cold, cold climes of Western Europe and North Africa. A serious heatwave has hit Europe and other parts of the world and everyone is whining about the heat. After having spent time in the country of my birth, the city of Antwerp just south of the border, and my beloved London Town,  l moved south to Malta. I reasoned, that in addition to meeting up with some lovely folks I hadn’t seen for almost 18 months, a sunny, hot and rainless summer and a more chilled way of life would be guaranteed. As the heatwave seems to prolong itself, I initially felt rather daft for wanting to spend a good part of summer on the Rock, as it’s full-on summer EVERYWHERE in Europe.

A Footie World Cup Came and Went

We were entertained by a World Cup football with some exciting performances and many freak exits. As the Boys of Orange weren’t playing, I could enjoy the circus as a rather neutral spectator and enjoy World Cup fever in Belgium and London. Although Malta is never competing, it’s incredibly difficult to escape the World Cup on this island, as matches are displayed in pretty much every bar, restaurant or café, whether indoors or outside. There are also a few so-called fan zones, where spectators can gather to watch matches on big screens while getting pissed and being annoyed by Malta’s notoriously bad DJs during half time. During the final, the whole of Europe except ‘la douce France’ wanted Croatia to win, which they didn’t and now some Frenchies have another reason to feel unrightly utterly superior in general rather than just in terms of football.

Not all Heat is created Equal

People in Malta are whining about the heat too, although it seems a normal Maltese summer to me. The big summer difference between the Rock and Western Europe, is that the island nation is far better equipped to deal with the heat, as aircon is ubiquitous and every dwelling has at least one big fan. It’s in winter when you might be suffering in Malta; if you can’t be arsed to invest in a decent gas or oil heater or spend a fortune on running electric heaters, time spend indoors can be cold, cold, cold to the bone. It’s the world upside down in Western Europe. My experience in London is, that Brits can’t build decent houses, that keep you warm in winter and/or relatively cool during a hot summer. Compared to that lot, ‘we’ Dutchies can build decent dwellings, that keep you warm in winter. There are too many rules and regulations in place to fuck that up. We don’t do aircons, as we don’t need them and, unlike in Malta, where you NEED a fan in summer, Dutchies don’t do fans. If a heatwave strikes, you don’t seem to be able to buy some sort of cooling device, as the few fans and portable aircon systems available are sold out in an instant.

As I am receiving and sharing a lot of love on the island and enjoying a chilled lifestyle, I feel I did make the right choice to spend a few weeks here. Throughout the years I have learnt, that travelling or temporarily residing in a place is totally different from actually living there. An although I’m currently having a ball, I have no appetite for becoming a Rock Resident once more.

The Good, the Bad and Saudi Women, who drive


SaudiWomandrivingAfter a joyous couple of months, during which I was captured by surf and Sri Lankan chill, I had the warmest of receptions in Lowlands Country by both my dear friends Rick and Louis and the weather. Having spent last summer in Central America, experiencing long summer days, with sunsets after 10 pm, which used to be so normal once, have become something to marvel at.



Drive, Baby, Drive

While enjoying a fabulous spring and beginning of summer in western Europe, a country at the bottom of my ‘wanna-go list’ came in the news, as it attempts to catch up with modern times. Saudi Arabia has lifted the ban on female motorists. It made me think of cultural relativism and the absoluteness of good and evil. As part of social liberalism and political correctness- there might be a fine line between the two- one is not to judge other people’s practices and beliefs based on one’s own culture. It is considered ethnocentric and just not terribly sophisticated in the eyes of many intellectually inclined lefties.

Travel vs. Residency: the Dark Fairy Experience

During my time at the African Med, a bit more than eight years ago, I realised that experiencing a culture while travelling, is something completely different than doing so while actually living in said culture. I absolutely loved my first time in Egypt. I was based in Umm ad-dunya, my beloved Cairo, for a few weeks. It was Ramadan, which is a very festive time, a bit like Christmas in this part of the world, just with no alcohol and better weather. Life was tame during the day, but after sunset and iftar, the evening meal to break the fast, the city was captured by a festival atmosphere, which was a true joy to experience. During Eid I travelled to the oasis of Siwa in the west of the country, near the Libyan border, where life in the desert seemed peaceful and almost idyllic.

About 18 months later, when I had been living in the country for about six months as part of my academic year abroad, I realised I was far less open-minded towards other cultures than I had previously assumed. Being used to undertake stuff on my own, I found it hard to discover that, women, who want to do stuff solo are rather vulnerable in Egypt, and one needs the ‘protection’ of a man. Ideally your husband or father, otherwise a brother. As a foreigner you need to rely on a male friend, who will always be from a wealthier family, well-travelled and used to friendships between men and women. It’s not that I found my own culture superior, it’s just that I really didn’t dig that aspect of Egyptian culture.

Relative to Culture or Universal Good

Many of us have been raised in a culture of relativism: there is no such thing as absolute good or evil. What is considered okay in one culture is seriously frowned upon in another (sex before marriage, alcohol consumption, female circumcision.) Although I have been conditioned not to judge a foreign culture based on my own experiences, beliefs and practices, I am reconsidering the relativity of good and evil. I do believe there is absolute evil. How relative can shit be when it comes to the act of rape or child molestation?

To bring this back to the lifting of the ban on women drivers, I wonder why I should have considered this ban part of culture. Something that is not intrinsically good or bad, rather than an infringement of the universal human right of freedom of movement in a vehicle of one’s choosing?

There is something weighty and almost sacred about the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, which, as the name says, entails universal values. Where then, do we draw the line between universal good and evil and culture differences that are ‘just’ relative? I am not saying I have the answer. I don’t know who exactly would decide on the universality of good and evil in practice. I am well aware it is not as black and white as portrayed in fairy tales and cartoons, but maybe our culture of relativism is a cop out that is just too easy.



Sri Lanka: What’s in a War


Tamil Tigers Emblem

After a few days of messy surf at the south coast, I returned to the capital Colombo in preparation for my flight to Europe. While consumed by surf in the last couple of months, I haven’t once mentioned the Sri Lankan elephant in the room; the civil war.

Up and Coming out of a War

The land of Ceylon tea- the plant is mainly cultivated for tourists and the export- hasn’t been on the (mass) tourist radar for that long. Although visitor numbers are increasing every year, the big touring companies haven’t found the Serendib island (yet). The reason that tourists and travellers have only been coming to Sri Lanka in significant numbers fairly recently, is because of an ugly thing called civil war.

Seeds of Hatred

The Sri Lankan civil war, an armed struggle between the Sinhalese dominated government army and the Liberation Army of Tamil Eelam, or Tamil Tigers for short, raged from 1983 until 2009. The stage for this conflict was set during British occupation and the early years of independence just after the Second World War. Sri Lanka had always been an island, where different ethnicities and religions co-existed, and different regions were ruled by different foreign and domestic powers.

From the early 1800s Sri Lanka, then called Ceylan came under British rule and the Brits were the first and only foreign power, that ruled the entire island, bringing the island’s different ethnicities together under one administration. After Sri Lanka became independent in 1948, parliament passed the controversial Ceylon Citizen Act, which was considered discriminative against Indian Tamils. Indian Tamils had been recruited by the British in the 19th and the beginning of the 20th century to work on tea plantations in Sri Lanka. The Ceylon Citizen Act set as a requirement for Sri Lankan citizenship, that you could proof that you were at least a third generation migrant. This meant that you needed to be able to proof, that your father- not your mother- was born in Sri Lanka. As most Indian Tamil women would return to India to give birth, most Indian Tamils couldn’t submit such proof and were refused citizenship. In addition to Indian Tamils, who formed about 10 percent of the population  at the time, the country also has a Sri Lankan Tamil population. These  Tamils are mainly located in the North and East of the country and have been on the island for centuries. The effect of the 1948 Ceylon Citizen Act, was that most Indian Tamils had become stateless and hundreds of thousands were expelled and forced to return to India. Only in 2003 the Sri Lankan parliament passed a law giving all Indian Tamils, who had been in the country since at least October 1964 and their descendants the right to get Sri Lankan citizenship.

Language Thing and Militancy

In 1956 the then prime minister passed a law, that made Sinhalese, rather than English, the official language of the country. This is believed to have been a move to push Tamils out of the civil services, as many Tamils were not fluent in Sinhalese. Tension rose between the Sinhalese majority and the Tamil speaking minority, that included in addition to Sri Lankan and Indian Tamils, Sri Lankan Moors, who descent from Arab and Indian Muslim traders. In the late 1960s the idea of an independent Tamil state, Tamil Eelam, started to gain more traction. After more discriminating action towards the Tamil minority by the Sri Lankan state in the years that followed, Tamil youth in the North and the East became more militant and started to form armed opposition groups. The Tamil Tigers, became the most prominent of these groups by either merging with or getting rid of most other Tamil resistance groups. Quite a few Tamils opposed the actions and the goals of the Tamil Tiger, as many didn’t support the idea of an independent Tamil state and/or denounced violence. Some Tamils have worked for the government as part of paramilitary factions, while others had been active in ‘legitimate’ state politics. The Tamil tigers main resistance was aimed at elements of the state apparatus like politicians, especially Tamils, police officers and soldiers. These attacks were retaliated by the army, who killed far more civilians than armed fighters.

War what is it good for

In the almost 26 years of war, that ended with the surrender of the Tamil Tigers in May 2009, around 150,000 people, mainly civilians died as a direct result of the war. Many more fled the country and the war had a detrimental effect on Sri Lanka’s natural environment and economy. The risk of land mines still exists in rural areas of the north and the east of the island. The total cost of the war is estimated to have been 200 billion US dollars. In 2014 the UN attempted to have an investigation into war crimes, mainly committed by the government, yet the Sri Lankan state refuses to cooperate.

Tourism in Sri Lanka; more and uglier?

While I have been roaming and surfing the south coast and stayed in Arugam Bay in the Tamil-dominated East, I’ve seen no signs of a past war. Tourist- travellers are a relatively new phenomenon in the country and most locals seem very keen on foreigners having a good impression of their country and war doesn’t fit into that picture.  To an outsider, Sri Lankans of all ethnicities seemingly get along without little problems. Since the war ended only 9 years ago, there must still be a lot of pain, anger and resentment. Being in my surfing- traveller bubble, I seldom asked locals questions about the war. After post-colonial unrest, civil war and natural disaster, Sri Lanka has become an attractive tourist- traveller destination once again. So much natural beauty, rich culture and many kind locals in wonderful weather is most definitely worth a visit. Tourist numbers have been increasing since the end of the civil war and there is no sign, that numbers will be falling any time soon. I just hope Sri Lanka will be smart about its tourism. As the country is relatively small and densely populated, it needs a solid infrastructure. Without one, tourism in Sri Lanka could get quite ugly indeed.

Sri Lanka’s Arugam Bay; Surf and Chadors


Elephant near one’ of A-Bay’s breaks

Just before the (surf) season was drawing to an end at Sri Lanka’s south coast, two newly made surfer friends and I headed for Arugam Bay, Lanka’s surf ‘mecca’ at the east coast, where the season was just about to start.

A-Bay’s strange Mix

Arugam Bay, or A-Bay if you want to appear to be in the known, is a rather peculiar place and perhaps the most ‘disjointed’ tourist- travellers destination I have ever visited. As a tourist- travellers destination, it’s mainly a backpackers’ place, although more mature folk most certainly don’t look out of place. There are quite a few foreigners, who either own businesses in town, or spend the whole season in the Bay, mainly for work and a few for leisure. A-Bay is in the town of Ulla, which is predominately muslim and quite conservative. Muslim school girls all wear lilac uniforms that are something between a chador* and a khimar* with loose fitting trousers. Grown women you barely see and if you do, most will wear black niqabs*. Many of the young female tourists in contrast, wear next to nothing, not quite realising which part of the world they are and simply reasoning that if it’s okay to wear it at home, if the weather were good, why not in A-Bay; we are at the beach after all. The local Sinhalese and Tamil women, who are Buddhist and predominately Hindu respectively, don’t cover their hair, seldom wear clothing that doesn’t cover the shoulders and knees and when they have a dip in the sea, they do so fully dressed.

What’s in a Surf

Despite the surf being the main attraction, I wouldn’t call Arugam Bay a surfer town as such. There is one and a half surf spot in the town itself called Main point, which is a reef break and too grown up for me to surf at the moment. The other surf break in town is Baby Point, which wasn’t working yet. All other surf spots, about eight in total, of which at least four weren’t working at the time we were there, are a ride out of the town. The nearest break called Whiskey point, is about 10 minutes and the furthest about 40 minutes by tuk tuk. The tuk tuk mafia is sure to take their share of the surfing traveller, as it has been made illegal to take your board on your scooter and tuk tuk prices around Arugam Bay are considerably higher than on the south coast. Most of Arugam Bay’s breaks are also very crowded. With exception of Main point and a couple of other breaks, most waves will be filled with beginners’ classes  and since it was only the beginning of the season, I don’t want the know what the surf looks like mid-summer. A-Bay is not known for its world class breaks, but for beginning and intermediate surfers it can be great fun if you know how to avoid the masses. The way to one of our favourite breaks, was like a safari, as we came across plenty of wildlife including peacocks, buffaloes and the occasional elephant.

Leaving the Coast

After three weeks in A-Bay, where surf sister Iris and I both had to stay out of the water due to an injury- hers more serious than mine- and after a week of rest(lessness), conditions were flat as a pancake, we left the east coast. Iris was going back to the south and I went to Ella to sample the Hill Country in attempt to see something else than the coast. I was rather underwhelmed by Ella. The surroundings are beautiful and great for hiking, but as it was pissing down off and on, I wasn’t too bothered to release my inner outdoor girl. The village itself is mainly a stretch of hotels, guesthouses and eateries along the main road, that look even less appealing in the rain. It didn’t help that the guesthouse, where I had booked two nights influenced by a top rating on, was a big disappointment. Instead of visiting other places in the Hill country, which was initially the plan, I returned to the south coast for one more surfing fix before I have to deal with the dry spell.

My second visit to Hiriketiya Bay on the south coast, was quite different compared to my first visit only a month before. It was quite clearly low season. A lot of accommodations were closed and the amount of the people in the surf could be counted on the fingers of one hand at any given time, if there was anyone at all. The surf itself was messy, but I did get my fix, el hamdulilah.


Ginger Beer Chill

*In case you are not familiar with muslim headwear, check this link
top image: Brody,

On Sri Lanka’s Waves Consumed by Surf


Hiriketiya Bay

Although Sri Lanka is a relatively small country with great offerings in terms of nature and culture, my main reason for visiting the teardrop-shaped island is to surf. The topic of Sri Lanka as a surf destination had come up several times in the last few months and were attention goes, energy flows, or so they say. My yoga intention of doing a couple of courses in Thailand and India respectively had been put on hold, but loyal to the surf intention I seem to stay.

Surf or how to develop a Compulsion

Surfing is a peculiar practice. The girls and boys, who have been doing it for years, make it look incredibly fun and quite easy. Fun it is, just as much as it can be hard work and frustrating, especially if you start learning as an adult. I’ve always wanted to learn how to surf, but, unlike windsurfing, it was not an activity people did in Lowlands Country when I was growing up. In London I was far away from a surf sport and poor most of the times, which made realising that dream quite a challenge. Nine years ago, when I had some extra money coming in, I decided to go sniff at that dream and went to a surf camp in Tamraght, near Agadir in Morocco for a week. I had fun, didn’t catch one (unbroken) wave and had fallen in love with Morocco. Only years later I realised that my surf tuition in that week was terrible. My ‘instructor’ was a nice guy. He had been surfing for years, spoke a little English, as my French is shady, and was a mate of the surf school owner, but a proper instructor he sure wasn’t. Doing a surf camp for a week, or even two, to learn how to surf is a bit of a joke. It’s like doing a one-week language course to master a new language from scratch. It can be a fun introduction, but it’s not that you’ll be fluent in surf or can even have a basic ‘conversation’ with a wave.

In addition to the difficulty level of learning how to surf at an adult age, surfing fucks with your time and with your hair. Before you know it, you are checking Magic Seaweed several times a day and starting to design your day around the surf. My hair is a mess and despite trying to take precautions with oils and creams and all that jazz, my Dark Fairy locks are brown-reddish-going-on blond, rather than very dark brown and dry as hay. Then there is the risk of injury by boards- your own or others’- or the ocean floor, whether sand, rock or reef, or getting a glimpse of what it must feel like to drown (or actually drowning if you are rather unlucky or stupid or both).  And yet, the surf sucks you in. Riding a wave not only gives you a great sense of freedom, surf can teach you a lot about life and that seems reason enough for me to stick with it and let it consume my life.

Surf as a Practice

For me surfing is not a sport. I know that it is considered as such, but I doubt it was invented as a competitive activity. For me surfing is very much a practice, like yoga. It helps me to stretch my comfort zone and overcome stuff I find hard or scary. It helps me to deal with what is; you can’t dictate the ocean. It shows me how to be in the zone and it can give me a sense of ultimate freedom  Even if I had a bit of rubbish session, the water seems to mellow you out and you learn to deal with what you are given. In addition, although sea water messes with your hair, it’s pretty good for the skin, assuming the waters are not too polluted.

After several weeks in Sri Lanka the only culture I have dived into has been surfing culture. As a woman of the world, I do find it a tat embarrassing, that my stories about Sri Lanka will be mainly about surf plus an elephant and a museum or two. I guess if you’ve made a practice your fixation and a fixation your practice, you’d better do it properly.


top image: Mokum Surf Club

Galle; Fort Culture and Dutch colonial Heritage


Another brick…Galle’s fortress wall

After my two-night stay in Mirissa, I took a bus ride an hour or so to the west, to the fortress town of Galle, of which the English pronunciation is Gaul, as in the old name for France. The fast majority of the city of Galle is located outside of the fort, yet the fortified neighbourhood, is the main tourist attraction.




Dutch Reformed church, Galle

Galle; what’s in Colonialism

Galle has a very long history as a trading port, starting hundreds of years Before Common Era. The Indians and Chinese were coming and going, followed by other folks including Persians, Arabs, Greeks and Romans. The famous fort was initially built by the Portuguese in the 17th century, and after a trade war, the Dutch took over and rebuilt parts of the fortress walls. There is quite a lot of Dutch history in Sri Lanka and in Galle in particular. This particular history of Dutch merchants exploiting lands and goods in the East, is a bit of a peculiar one. To many, the history of the VOC, which stands for United East-India Company in Dutch, is a reason for great Dutch pride. In primary school I was taught about the trading successes of the Company, making the Netherlands a strong maritime nation and the country and Amsterdam in particular very wealthy. This period in Dutch history is referred to as the Golden Age. About a decade ago, the then Dutch prime minster mentioned the term VOC mentality’ in parliament in reference to the nation’s economy and how ‘we’ could prosper once more, just like in the VOC days in the 17th and 18th century. The then prime minister referred to the merchant mentality of the Company, yet many MPs and member of the public found his words very inappropriate and rightly so. The VOC was a public trading corporation and functioned as a state within a state. It was a corporate entity, that not only could make trade agreements on the government’s behalf, but it could also govern occupied territories and declare war, which it has done several times. The Company exploited many regions in the East, with little or no regards for the foreign lands and its people. The Dutch only established trading posts along the coast of Sri Lanka, which they called Ceylan, and were never interested in colonising the whole island. After a lost war against the English, the ‘Dutch parts’ of the island were ‘transferred’ to the British, who had the aim to colonise the whole island and, as the only foreigner power to ever do so, that’s what they did.

The Dutch left their mark in Sri Lanka and in addition to forts in coastal cities like Colombo, Galle and Matara, there are a fair amount of Dutch churches. Furthermore, VOC coins, weapons and other artefacts are on display in several museums, including the national museum in Galle.

Tourist Herds and Heritage

Galle is not Amsterdam or Venice in terms of tourist herds, but the fort, which is a UNESCO heritage site, is rather touristy nevertheless and with ever increasing tourist numbers in Sri Lanka, it can only get worse. The fort is small and can be explored in a few hours. If you plan to stay for the night and you are on a budget, it’s better to find accommodation and food outside of the fort. Prices in shop and restaurants within the UNESCO heritage site are relatively high.

Dutch history, and VOC history in particular, is very present in Galle. As a Dutchie with migrant heritage, this is both familiar and strange. Familiar in the sense that it’s part of national history I learnt in school and strange, because it wasn’t my ancestors, who lived on the shiny side of that history. My ancestors were on the other side; the dark-skinned victims of the transatlantic slave trade, which also made the Lowlands tremendously rich. I don’t believe in white guilt, or guilt of any shade, as no one should be made to feel guilty or ashamed for what their ancestors did. It’s rather a question of acknowledgement, that mistakes have been made in the past and how the current consequences of those mistakes can be addressed.

Meanwhile, being a Dark Fairy from a country predominately inhabited by white people is confusing for some here, so I have been assumed to to be from South Africa, Ethiopia or Jamaica, which is all fine. The ambiguity is comforting somehow.