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22 October 2025

Yesterday I returned from therapy, a stay abroad. These days, doctors increasingly prescribe vacations, especially those spent in nature. I do it preventively, so I leave the island at least once every two years for health reasons. It’s a bitter necessity to escape the bruá, the noise, the heat, the constant pressure of our little paradise.

You don’t do it for fun. Europe, especially its cities, is no picnic. There are many reasons why, but that’s a story for another time. What I learned is this: no country should want tourism. It is hell on earth. I also concluded that a Curaçaoan does not move to the Netherlands for pleasure.

And yet, I longed to return — to my house, not necessarily to the island. Upon arrival, something struck me deeply: all Dutch tourists walked straight through, while residents were thoroughly checked. This time, I even had to show my cedula (ID card). It’s institutionalized — the Curaçaoan distrusts his own people.

Then you open the newspaper the next morning: endless reports about unpaid or forgiven taxes, a shaky budget, and the Receiver’s Office, the Public Prosecutor’s Office, the Ministry of Finance, SOAB, and the Ombudsman all failing to function as they should. The rot runs so deep that I wonder if it can still be repaired. Maybe we need to start over. But by whom?

Maybe the island, too, needs a prescription — not for rest, but for renewal.

Miguel Goede