If I had to choose a location-based group I feel most connected to; it’d be that I feel most closely related to the Frisian people and culture. More so than with the Dutch or Moroccan nationalities. (Friesland is my birth province and where I grew up, though my dad came from Morocco and my mom from Amsterdam (Netherlands).)
What I find amusing is that the name ‘Frisian’ originally meant 'curly-haired people.' And Friesland was called Frisia, i.e., land of the curly-haired people. Maybe you know the (lesser known) word for curls in English, frizzle, which has the same linguistic roots as Frisia. Many Frisians still have beautiful (often blond) curls; which makes me enjoy that I—as genetically half Moroccan, half southern Dutch boy—am born and raised with a heavy batch of curls on my head in the land of the frizzled people.
As a young kid, I always thought Friesland meant ‘free’ land because, when spoken aloud, “frie” sounds so similar to “free.” The Frisian people certainly have a strong urge to be free as, historically, the Frisian people fought the longest to maintain their freedom within the Kingdom of the Netherlands. Even the Roman Empire couldn’t conquer Frisia in all its centuries of domination. Then there is the tale of Grutte Pier (Big Pier), who fought dearly for Frisia against the Dutch. With his two-meter longsword, he’d split men in half. His real name was Pier Gerlofs Donia. I highly recommend reading his backstory, written down by monk and fighter Petrus Thaborita.
I have a friend whose name also begins with a P and who is born in the same region as Pier. Just like Pier, he is a two-meter tall beast of a man and was raised on a farm. I often wonder how he’d look with a sword in his hands…
I want to close off this week’s piece with a poem (sadly, I’m unable to find out who wrote it). It’s first in Frisian, then in English, and then in Dutch. You’ll notice how closely related English and Frisian are in some words and phrases—even more so than Dutch and Frisian in some instances.
(Frisian) Dyn byld yn ’e spegel Is myn moaiste fers Mar, wês fluch, it ferdwynt It is myn lêste 'ik hâld fan dy'! (English) Your image in the mirror Is my most beautiful verse But, be quick, it disappears It's my last 'I love you'! (Dutch) Jouw beeld in de spiegel Is mijn mooiste vers Maar wees er snel bij, het verdwijnt Het is mijn laatste 'ik hou van jou'!
Thanks for reading and enjoy your week!
Oant sjen (until next time),
Jibran