Orange

If I actually owned something orange, I might wear it to church the day of the final Fifa South Africa soccer match. But I connect the colour orange to prison jumpsuits, unflattering mug shots, and much more distantly to flowers planted in gardens in protest of Nazi Germany. These same flowers sometimes later had to be eaten, if you lived in the cities during the hunger winter. I don't think orange is even my colour, and I am only probably the last Netherlands fan to jump on the band-wagon, so my opinion means very little.

That said, I remember doubting Thomases are sometimes very surprised to find solid evidence against their previous claims, so let's just say I'll be as surprised as anyone what happens in the next two matches. But I think Germany will triumph during the next match, and they are the most formidable opponent the Dutch could have to face in the final match, to my untrained eye. I really know very little about football in Europe, have never been to Europe, and I have never even left the continent of North America, though I have been to Florida and on a couple of trans-Canada tours and that is a lot of kms to travel without ever leaving two neighbouring countries. Also Europe is very, very different than it was post WWII, as is Canada and every other country in this ever-shrinking world.

Blood, Sweat, and Tears

I don't know exactly why, but I am somewhat ashamed of my Dutch heritage. Maybe the reason I have a hard time cheering for the Dutch in the World Cup in South Africa, is because I know a little bit about the history of apartheid and I can't bring myself to cheer for Orange. I don't know much about how Nelson Mandela accomplished reconciliation or how many poor are still barely surviving in South Africa. I know the future can be bright from the sun, or that precious things could ignite into flame given enough heat and pressure.

I want to cheer for the only team I can cheer for as a Canadian of Dutch descent, the Netherlands team. I am Dutch through and through, with a pinch of French from the Huguenots and maybe a touch of Freisland in the mix (if they were significant in my heritage, I am sure I would know how to spell Freisland). But the Dutch people themselves are some kind of European mix as well. Sometimes though I guess everyone has to let go of all the wrongs in the past and move on to a better future.

My maternal grandfather was somewhat scarred from his experiences in the Netherlands during the Occupation of Holland by Nazi Germany. He was hiding for most of the war and he was secretly corresponding with my maternal grandmother who he met briefly during the war. At the end of the war they married and left for Canada where they made their future together. They have been gone for over two years now and they are together and were not long separated. I think they understood much wisdom at the end of their long lives together. I look forward to seeing them again in bodies that are not failing and without any scars or bitterness. I look forward to laughing again with them and there being no more tears or death or crying or pain. I look forward to my grandmother being articulate, sharp-witted, and cheerful again and my grandfather smiling at me and showing me his beautiful flowers. I don't know why I am mourning them now, rather than at their funerals, but then my eyes were bright with unshed tears. Now I cry for myself, more than for them.