A note from a Wandanesse on Marjolein Van Pagee’s piece, the Banda Genocide
Oh, Banda Neira, the spice islands?
yes and no...
what do you mean?
My village's name is Banda Eli,
in the Kei Islands.
So, not Banda Neira?
(our origin is) Banda, but in Kei.
what does that even mean?
Every time a Wandanesse steeps forward up and introduces himself/herself as the native of Banda Islands, this conversation often ensues. Questions, even a frown on the forehead seemed to have become a common response when the word “Wandan” was compared with the word of Banda. The reason is simple, the general public doesn't familiar with the word “Wandan”. The public doesn't have the knowledge to understand the underlying reasons we called ourselves the Wandanesse, orang Banda asli. Some may not understand that Banda is Wandan in our heart.
Introducing one’s identity as a Wandanesse is, therefore, never an easy task. The war on Nutmeg in the early 17th century have obscured Wandan and Wandanesse from the mainstream history of Banda. The VOC's barbaric action had systematically robbed the Wandanesse of their spatial identity as the original residents of Banda. Thousands of Wandanesse were killed, exiled, robbed from their living space, displaced and scattered across the archipelago. The genocide committed by the VOC had forced Banda into an empty space, a limbo from which the Wandanesse and their narrative vanished into the insignificance. As the result, every time an introductory session touches upon the topic of one's origin, a Wandanesse has to explain himself/herself at greater length than one should normally do.
Wandanesse must gather knowledge on the tangled web of history, geopolitics, and colonial greed to explain why our ancestors were expelled from Banda. We must grapple with torn collective memories whenever a question regarding migration to the Kei Islands ensued.
The long, episodic migration under constant threats of VOC has fragmented Wandanesse memory, history, and identity into pieces. Our story intertwines with the narratives of the inhabitants of Gorom, Geser, Kur, Tayando, all small island perched on the ridge of Banda Arch. Retracing our journeys through those complex web of memories if often emotionally overwhelming.
That's why I have been hesitant to introduce myself as a Wandanesse. In the past, I generally didn't argue when friends or colleagues introduced me in a very generic terms as a Moluccan, a Keinesse or a Bandanesse. I rarely objected. This, after all, wasn't entirely wrong although it wasn't entirely right either.
Today, I promise myself to speak loudly about my identity and origin. I will no longer hesitate to speak about Wandan. From now on, I shall introduce myself as a Wandanesse. Marjolein's book, the Banda Genocide, has reshaped my awareness. She brought me back to the shore of Neira where I rediscovered Wandan in the ocean texts of Banda.