An open letter to Scott Kesterson, BardsFM.
Dear Scott, this is the third message i write to you from The Netherlands, the country, for which I mourn.
My country, small and flat, not so long ago, free and strong, fertile and fruitful, once inhabiting a tough, stubborn and innovative folk, that mastered its marshes, the many rivers, the clays and sands and even conquered the seas. Not only the North Sea flooding our shores, but all seven of them.
A God fearing place, but also a safe haven for freethinkers, fringe philosophers and the religiously prosecuted. Jews from Portugal, Huguenots from France, Flemish Protestants, together we built a unique and rich culture on this small poststamp of wetlands.
We once were famous for our liberty of thought, speech and expression and our abundance of food and water.
It hurts to say what we have become. A desperately weak and baren place, where abortion is applauded, even celebrated and old people are frowned upon, stashed away in homes to die in silence. A place God seems to have left, violently shaking his poor head.
Nowadays we live in a country in which every full grown tree is cut down to be burned on the altar of “green energy”. Its precious acres poised to be locations for Meta data hubs and distribution centers for Amazon, hiding the classic Dutch landscape under rows and rows of huge grey, plastic and aluminium boxes.
A country, not long ago, rich in fruits, vegetables, prize cows, flowers, innovative industries, coal, culture and trade. Now a pillaged and impoverished shire of the European Clown Union, in which all seems to be in sharp decline.
Our stunned and betrayed citizens enslaved by government hand outs or taxed to death. Hypnotised in worldwide fear campaigns, lining up for the jabs and a free Ukrainian paper flag to wave.
A country that owns huge natural gas resources, while its citizens pay more for this vital commodity than anywhere else in the world.
Our famous farmers smeared, or even forcefully disowned. Expelled to the friendlier pastures of Poland or Canada, with a possible West European Holodomor 2.0 on the horizon, visible for everyone with eyes to see.
Our fishermen are driven out by wind turbines. Our hawks and seagulls decapitated and broken at the foot of their white pillars, as animal offerings to the new Dutch Government bibles, The 4th Industrial Revolution by Klaus Schwab and the UN Sustainable Development Goals.
And this while our “leaders”, elected in US style shady elections, actively root for shutting down vital imports of grains, oil and gas from the East. Probably to force us into adapting to eating bugs, GMO food and the planned digital currencies a little easier.
We live in a country that spends truckloads, boatloads of taxpayers money and pension funds in fake battles, fighting climate change, inert air gasses and viruses. Its people’s money converted into loot in intricate kick back schemes, hardly hidden behind the screens, to be distributed amongst the kleptocratic oligopoly, their friends and families.
Our Churches empty and mostly compromised by woke narratives. Our schools taken over by horrid Soros programmes. Sex lessons in kindergartens and trannies reading their pedo propaganda to toddlers and their proud parents.
Pastors and ministers waving rainbow flags. You get the picture.
The Netherlands became a place where thousands of kids are “lost” and thousands more have been taken from parents, who were wrongly accused of fraud by the government.
A country where dissident thinkers and speakers like Willem Engel are locked up and politicians and leaders proclaiming Christian values like Thierry Baudet are banned, threatened and ridiculed; hate cheered on by politicians who call themselves Christians.
The Netherlands has become a country at the center of all that is vile and wrong in this world. A barren wasteland, deprived of its honour and riches, its pride, its identity and morals, its community, its self, its Lord above. Sold by our “rulers” to EU, WEF and UN.
And probably all on purpose.
Our country flattened and ruined, to be rebuild as some Gotham City, the new Berlin.
But still Scott, this ís a letter with good news, a hopeful message.
Maybe we first had to lose it all, to find ourselves.
Maybe we needed the devil to mock us, to find God once again.
Maybe we needed a nightmare, to wake us up.
More and more of us show our hereditary stubbornness and resilience. Our ancient urges for freedom. Resisting the jab, the lies and the lizards in power. Planting foods, learning skills that were all but forgotten.
Yesterday I learned to sharpen knifes. And planted my first seeds. Hands in soil for the first time in decades.
More and more of us get together, to prepare for difficult times, to exchange tips and learnings, to build schools and churches, tracing back to the ancient paths, rediscovering Jezus as saviour and guide.
Scott, in these last two horrible but precious years, your words kept me sane.
I survived on a steady ration of your podcasts.
You deepened my faith, you strengthened my step through this swamp full of snakes and spiders. I thank you deeply for that brother.
Where we were merely consumers, easy victims and targets, we now know.
We need to prepare.
We need to stand firm and learn to farm again.
We need find the paths all but forgotten.
We need to be disciples and missionaries and rediscover what it means to be parents again and truly love each other as brothers and sisters.
Scott, if you ever plan to extend your county to county initiative to other countries.
Then please hear my plea, brother.
Here am I; send me.
Please listen to the BardsFM.com podcast, find faith and strength and learn the vital lessons for the times we live in.
Vind je mijn werk dus goed, mooi of zelfs belangrijk? Je kunt mij hier ondersteunen.
Poet Warrior in the Classical Sense. Vind je mijn werk dus goed, mooi of zelfs belangrijk? Je kunt mij hier ondersteunen.
29 March 2022 at 11:34
I do hope, that you (‘we’) finally start to hurry, otherwise I won’t live to see the light. Fight on (please)
29 March 2022 at 11:53
Je stukken in het Engels zijn nog mooier dan in het Nederlands.
Chapeau, Jan, chapeau.
29 March 2022 at 12:20
Prachtig stuk proza, helaas waar.
29 March 2022 at 13:18
Oh Jan wat ontzettend mooi omschreven. Wat een gave waar menigeen je om benijd. Ik ben er stil van. Diepe buiging. Keep fighting and stay strong!😍
29 March 2022 at 13:35
I’m without words. Just amazed. And inspired. Thank you.
29 March 2022 at 13:41
Nice feedback on what’s going on in NL — yet it’s not isolated to the surrounding world.
Indeed, let’s hope we’ll be able to find our salvation in time.
29 March 2022 at 13:42
29 March 2022 at 14:01
The build back better and you will own nothing and like it.crinimals.
I like your letter and I’m sure lots of people agree with you.
The storm is almost here.where your going to have to pick what side your on.Freedom or be a slave.
29 March 2022 at 14:16
Jan, your ability to shake and wake up your audience is unsurpassed! People tend to slide back into some kind of “normal” living, as most of the covid-measures are lifted, cradled asleep and into a dream of normality once again. Thank you for this brilliant wake-up call!
29 March 2022 at 14:27
Is het 10 voor 12 of 10 over 12. Mooi ❤️
29 March 2022 at 14:29
29 March 2022 at 14:38
Toen ik dit las, moest ik direct aan Slauerhoff denken:
In Nederland wil ik niet leven,
Men moet er steeds zijn lusten reven,
Ter wille van de goede buren,
Die gretig door elk gaatje gluren.
‘k Ga liever leven in de steppen,
Waar men geen last heeft van zijn naasten:
Om ‘t krijsen van mijn lust zal zich geen reiger
Geen vos zijn tred verhaasten.
In Nederland wil ik niet sterven,
En in de natte grond bederven
Waarop men nimmer heeft geleefd.
Dan blijf ik liever hunkrend zwerven
En kom terecht bij de nomaden.
Mijn landgenoten smaden mij: ‘Hij is mislukt.’
Ja, dat ik hen niet meer kon schaden,
Heeft mij in vrijheid nog te vaak bedrukt.
In Nederland wil ik niet leven,
Men moet er altijd naar iets streven,
Om ‘t welzijn van zijn medemensen denken.
In het geniep slechts mag men krenken,
Maar niet een facie ranslen dat het knalt,
Alleen omdat die trek mij niet bevalt.
Iemand mishandlen zonder reden
Getuigt van tuchteloze zeden.
Ik wil niet in die smalle huizen wonen,
Die Lelijkheid in steden en in dorpen
Bij duizendtallen heeft geworpen…
Daar lopen allen met een stijve boord
– Uit stijlgevoel niet, om te tonen
Dat men wel weet hoe het behoort –
Des Zondags om elkaar te groeten
De straten door in zwarte stoeten.
In Nederland wil ik niet blijven,
Ik zou dichtgroeien en verstijven.
Het gaat mij daar te kalm, te deftig,
Men spreekt er langzaam, wordt nooit heftig,
En danst nooit op het slappe koord.
Wel worden weerlozen gekweld,
Nooit wordt zo’n plompe boerenkop gesneld,
En nooit, neen nooit gebeurt een mooie passiemoord.
— J.J. Slauerhoff, Verzamelde gedichten. Deel 1. A.A.M. Stols,
Den Haag 1947 (tweede druk), DBNL