Reading Wandan amidst the Ocean (text) of Banda

A note from a Wandanesse on Marjolein Van Pagee’s piece, the Banda Genocide 

people of Banda circa 1540, as depicted in Codex Casanatense

Let me introduce myself, I'm from Banda, Moluccas.

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?

Whenever a Wandanesse steps forward, introducing himself/herself as a native of the Banda Islands, this conversation unfolds. Questions arise, and sometimes a puzzled frown accompanies the mention of the term “Wandan.” The reason is simple: the public does not acquainted with the word “Wandan.” They lack the knowledge to understand why we proudly call ourselves the Wandanesse—the true Banda natives. Few realize that Banda beats within our hearts as Wandan.

Declaring oneself as a Wandanesse is, therefore, no simple task. The Nutmeg Wars of the early 17th century had obscured Wandanesse from the Banda’s history. The VOC’s brutal actions systematically stripped off Wandanesse from their spatial identity as inhabitants of Banda. Thousands were killed, exiled and displaced across the archipelago. The VOC’s genocide cast Banda into the limbo, a space where Wandan and Wandanesse narratives vanished into insignificance.

As the result, introductory session often wears off a Wandanesse, send him/her emotionally drained. Wandanesse must explain himself/herself at greater length than one should normally do. We must delve into the tangled web of history, geopolitics, and colonial greed to elucidate why our ancestors were expelled from Banda. We should deal with our shredded memories whenever questions about our migration to the Kei Islands were asked. 

The long, episodic migration under constant threats of the VOC has fragmented Wandanesse memory, history, and identity into pieces. Tracing back our steps through these intricate webs of memories is often emotionally overwhelming.

This is one of the reasons why I’ve been hesitant to introduce myself as a Wandanesse. In the past, I rarely objected when friends or colleagues generically referred me as a Moluccan, a Kei-nesse, or a Banda-nesse. It wasn’t entirely wrong, but it wasn’t entirely right either.

Today, I pledge to boldly proclaim my identity and origin. No longer will I hesitate to speak about Wandan. From now on, I will introduce myself as a Wandanesse. Marjolein’s book, “The Banda Genocide,” has profoundly shifted my perspective. It led me back to Neira’s shores, where I rediscovered Wandan in the oceanic narratives of Banda.

Declaring oneself as Wandanesse transcends mere semantics. It means recognizing the native Banda Islands, whose people embarked on a “hijrah” to various places throughout the archipelago, especially the Kei islands. Speaking of Wandan is speaking of resilience—an unwavering testament to our unbroken spirit. This, indeed, is an act of resistance.

*  *  *

Recognizing Wandan and the Wandanesse narrative are key themes in Marjolein’s work, Banda. In the introduction of her Bahasa Indonesia edition, Marjolein argues that ignorance of the Wandanesse narrative has led to a narrow interpretation of history. She contends that classic and contemporary readings of Banda have marginalized the Wandanesse, allowing history to be seen solely through the eyes of the colonizers.

Marjolein launches a powerful critique of European-biased and colonialist writings about Banda. “The colonial historical sources contain lies,” she asserts. She insists that progress is impossible if we continue to accept these falsehoods.

However confrontational it may sound, Marjolein’s call is not to completely disregard colonial sources. Instead, she invites readers to critically examine colonial-based historical accounts, recognizing their subjective nature. She encourages us to question the motives behind colonial narratives. Marjolein urges us to deconstruct the historical perspective built upon Europe’s biased view of the East.

To illustrate this, Marjolein reveals how Jan Pietersoon Coen, the notorious Governor General of the VOC, manipulated racial stereotypes to justify atrocities against the Wandanesse. His portrayal of the Wandanesse as deceitful and uncivilized moor served as a pretext for collective punishment. Marjolein argues that remnants of these prejudices persist in current colonial-based historical accounts.

 

" In the Dutch archives, the Bandanese are referred to as Moors, the infidel, the unfaithful who cannot be trusted or expected of goodness. The Bandanese are accused of cheating by tampering the scales and offering mouldy nutmeg….

In principle they (ed.VOC) just don't want to pay more than their competitors.

..... However, during the first visit in 1599, it soon became clear that the Bandanese were experienced traders and had a unique trading position ".

Beyond exposing various European prejudices in mainstream historical account of Banda, Marjolein also contributed in building a more inclusive historical discourse. The Banda Genocide doesn’t merely a chronicle of  dates and events; it also weaves a human story—a collective narrative, despite the disenfranchisement of the Wandanesse memory. In a history dominated by “his” and “her” stories, Marjolein’s book redirects the current toward "us". She empowers Wandanesse to launch their own narrative, to (re)write their collective story—the tale of Wandan.

Certainly, Marjolein is not the first foreign writer that acknowledges the existence of the Wandanesse. Timo Kartinen, a Finnish professor of anthropology, has also written extensively about how the Wandanesse, in the periphery of Kei, maintains their culture and collective memory of Banda through songs and poetry (onotani) for hundreds of years. 

One can even traced the colonial records about Wandanesse in Kei to the mid-17th century. In 1646, for example, an expedition led by Adrian Dortsman had recorded the settlement of the Wandan diaspora in the negeri of Eli, Elat and the edge of the negeri Haar. Two centuries later, Van Hoevell (1890) and Alfred Russel Wallace also noted the existence of the Wandanesse in Kei. In his travelogue, Malay Archipelago (1869), Wallace even describes the differences in characteristics, culture and religion between the Wandanesse and the native Kei residents. 

Even though she is not the pioneer, Marjolein’s writing is more transformative. She  seeks to catalyze change. The main difference between Marjolein and other writers is that Marjolein composed her script with a complete critical awareness. She firmly believes that the Wandanesse should paint the historical discourse on Banda, hence she refuses to stop at merely acknowledging the existence of the Wandanesse. 

Marjolein’s unwavering determination to amplify the victim’s narrative is a welcome beacon for all Wandanesse. Her courage in dismantling insensitive mainstream narratives should serve as a catalyst for reconstructing our collective memory. It’s high time for the Wandanesse, along with other ethnic groups in the Moluccas and the wider archipelago, to speak candidly about our history and identity.

We must cease from treating our collective memory as mere myth or the defeated remnants of an overly proud tribe. Instead, let us embrace our oral traditions as valuable historical sources for examination and analysis.

The concept of meta-history offers a powerful tool for incorporating our collective memory into mainstream discourse. In anthropology, meta-history bridges the gap between community recollections and historical documents. Timo Kartinen’s study of Wandanesse migration and resilience in Kei exemplifies this approach, weaving together collective memories and colonial records.

Marjolein’s book, The Banda Genocide, ignites hope—a call to redirect the discourse on Banda. It propels us toward a more critical and inclusive narrative—one that fully acknowledges the Wandanesse identity and their enduring story.

But, first, one should dare to embrace his own story. 

So, to restart, let me reintroduce my identity.

My name is Burhanudin Borut. 

My ancestors came from the group of islands you've known as Banda, 

the origins of nutmeg, the mystica fragrans. 

We call that cluster of land and water as the Wandan. 

No, I'm not merely from Banda, 
I am a Wandanesse, 
I am Wandansio!