Everyone in Punda’s market calls me Zus, which means “sister.” I have had that name since I was a girl, when I was still small enough to disappear behind the pots at my mother’s stall. My mother started this business many years ago. In one way or another, I have never really left the market.
That is why the uncertainty about its future worries me so much. The government wants to remove the old building. There has been talk of constructing a new market, but there is also a possibility that the market will not continue in the same form. For me, this is not simply a discussion about a building. Three generations of my family are connected to this place.
The market is not only where I work. It carries the memory of my mother and three generations of my family.
Five people now work for me. I watch my prices closely because living in Curaçao has become expensive, and I know that every guilder matters to my customers. I even pay the government tax myself instead of adding it to their bill. I try to keep things affordable, although that becomes more difficult every year.
Tourists are important to my business. I let visitors taste what I offer, because tasting creates a connection. If people enjoy it, they often come back. Cruise passengers are less dependable because many have already eaten on the ship before they arrive in Punda, but other visitors do find their way to us.
The market is only one part of what I see happening on the island. Curaçao has become harder to afford. Prices in the supermarkets rise, bills are collected more aggressively and some people leave because everyday life costs too much. Sometimes I feel that Curaçao asks both residents and visitors to pay more without always offering enough in return.
I also see poverty, drugs and crime. I do not have much confidence that the police can solve these problems alone. Education concerns me as well. Schools do not have enough teachers, while good private education is too expensive for many families. Children who already have opportunities continue to benefit, but tourism income does not automatically reach the people who need it most.
What I miss most is life in the evening—the music, the cafés and the feeling that Punda belongs to all of us.
Visitors notice the quiet evenings too. I remember a Punda with more music, carnival, parties and cafés that stayed alive until late. I would like tourism to help bring some of that public life back, but ordinary Curaçaoans must have a real voice in deciding what is created.
Culture should not be performed only for tourists. It must remain part of the lives of the people who live here. When visitors ask me what they should experience, I tell them about the tumba, our folk dances and the annual Tumba Festival in Brievengat. These traditions show something of who we are.
For me, the market does the same. Within a few square metres, work, memory, family and culture all come together.
I hope Curaçao does not become so busy selling itself to visitors that we lose the places where we still recognise ourselves.