Fortunately, we are at a point where Afro-Dutch people and other People of Color in the Netherlands increasingly occupy influential positions within cultural organizations and knowledge institutions. They can participate in shaping the Dutch present, past, and future. How can we engage in this conversation independently and autonomously? With this in mind, Richard Kofi and Simone Zeefuik started Project Wiaspora, a podcast series about the everydayness of art, culture, activism, futurism, spirituality, and joy. During the LKCAtelier at the end of June, he explained: ‘We were bored by all the conversations about inclusion and diversity in cultural institutions. Those conversations lacked a future vision and imagination, a ‘what if’ and ‘when’.’

What if descendants of colonial exploitation, human trafficking, and slavery finally received reparations today after years of political and legal struggle and activism? Kofi and a few other Afro-European artists decided to invest their share of the reparations in the Museum of Black Futures (MBF). In the fall of 2022, they made their first public statement at The Mansion, a hip-hop platform in Nijmegen.

What should such a museum look like? It must, in any case, be a living space. Inspiration can be drawn from musical raves (‘a never-ending collection’), symbols like hair extensions (‘let’s extend our imagination’), or a kankantrie tree (‘restore the bond between the Black community and the healing power of nature’). Since then, they have been dissecting what a museum precisely is and whom it serves. ‘Is this European concept the right form for what we want to achieve?’

This quest was sharpened, says Kofi, after the Spiritans – a congregation of missionaries who founded the Africa Museum in Berg en Dal in 1954, and still own it – approached him after the first Black Futures podcast. They asked him to join their working group on the future of the Africa Museum, which closed its doors at the end of 2023 following a conflict between the Spiritans and the collection’s manager.
Kofi saw this as an opportunity to negotiate. ‘We want to own these and similar museum collections and make them publicly accessible: for artists, researchers, and especially the community. It’s time to take responsibility together and think about how we talk and think about ourselves, Africa, and Black identity. We can only enforce repatriation and reparation if we are the owners and make the community shareholders.’ The discussion about the ownership of the collection is now taking place.

Femi Dawkins, a multidisciplinary artist and researcher, is one of the participating artists. He emphasizes the importance of healing: ‘Decolonization is not just about reparations. Besides money, it’s about intention, vision, and drive.’ He quotes Susan Sontag, who talks about the land of the ‘well’ and the ‘unwell’: ‘We live in the land of the unwell and long to live in the land of the well.’ Not only the descendants of the enslaved but everyone in society needs healing. We must deal with the damage that colonialism, capitalism, selfishness, privilege, and greed have inflicted, make our souls healthy again, and restore the moral balance. Afrofuturism is a pro-Black moral compass and is thus all-inclusive. The museum should provide space for dialogue, spiritual healing, and compassion. This requires returning colonial heritage to the community so they can educate and empower themselves and create new memories. ‘In an unwell world, a museum represents a mausoleum of dead, stolen, and looted objects. The new museum must become a place of life and well-being.’

Kofi adds by describing how the Africa Museum sold two objects in 2019 due to financial difficulties. ‘How can you, as a white organization in this day and age, monetize our most valuable heritage?!’ Dawkins nods. ‘Whoever owns such objects must understand their value to the people from whom they were taken. And that value should not be expressed in money.’

The Museum of Black Futures prefers to create traveling exhibitions, where objects travel to museums and other social organizations. ‘We have forgotten the everydayness of those objects. How normal it is to honor your ancestors,’ says Dawkins. Everything lost in the process of colonization can be reclaimed: our ways of speaking, celebrating, mourning, and living. This idea greatly appeals to participant Martha Luz Machado. She focuses on the spiritual legacy of Colombia. A new contact with its African roots is very essential. So yes, let this collection be publicly accessible worldwide.

Dawkins suggests a traveling exhibition around spirituals and related objects. Take them to a place, explore their local significance, and celebrate and experience them together. ‘We must not let objects stagnate in time but evoke new memories. This transforms the object’s meaning and creates a public archive.’ So ‘dig where you stand,’ as curator Azu Nwagbogu would say. If you dig deep enough, you will find your roots and treasures.

This makes the Museum of Black Futures fundamentally different from reparations (a financial compensation). ‘Those payments are finite: here is your money, and that’s it. We are talking about an ongoing process of healing and societal transformation,’ says Kofi. It’s no coincidence that the word ‘futures’ is in the name.

When asked if the museum can also be a place of healing for the descendants of oppressors and colonizers, Dawkins emphatically answers yes: ‘We are not raising our fists saying ‘give us that collection’; no, we stand with open hands asking to negotiate with us. Healing occurs when institutions like the Congregation, the World Museum, and others make themselves vulnerable and relinquish power. Ultimately, it’s about enriching Black communities in the Netherlands and beyond. Justice. And everyone benefits from that.’

_{* Black Joy is enjoying the mundane, the everyday, laughter and smiles, sun shines and wilds. It is what it means to be alive without the baggage of trauma and whiteness. Of fruits and oranges, tangerine and mangoes, waterfalls and sun. Eating food from home, talking to people from home being reminded of home full fathom force. Being at home. Seeing family and our children, our aunties, our uncles.. our grans.. cousins and friends. Being able to sit still and feel love and be loved by others whom you love and want to continue to love. In our black way away from the integrated madness, being unapologetically joyful and being Black. Reclaiming Joy, a forbidden fruit amidst our trauma, refusing to sing the songs of sorrow bitterness and despair. Having crossed many rivers and roamed through toil and trouble surviving, now thriving to be greater than the small parts that make up our diasporal whole. Every breath we take, and have taken, every step we made, and will be making.. full of gratitude and joy. It is being, without having to say, explain again and again, as if the world is numb and dumb to the idea of smiles and kindness. It is reclaiming the word JOY, because all we seem to do in our beauty and blackness is explain our trauma, over and over, explain our displacement, our discrimination, our bodies violently oppressed and enslaved.. made to feel inferior. Truth be told it is no different than other joys, save for the word BLACK attached to it, a distraction borne out of us being “othered” as if we do “JOY ” differently.}

_{Photo: Quinty Ophelia}