Ode to Carla Lont | No Documents, No History

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Dear Carla,

You don't know me, but I know you. We are both archivists. You became one in 1975, I in 2020, after we graduated from archival school. You were 31 at the time, had been a mother for 13 years and had emigrated from Suriname to the Netherlands for your education. I was 25, more student than adult and living 20 kilometers from where I grew up. You worked at the Ministry of Onderwijs en Volksontwikkeling (Education and Popular Development), among other things, and I now work in Amsterdam at Atria, the knowledge institute for emancipation and women's history.

Despite our differences, we developed the same interest and passion for history and archives. Your daughter brought your personal archive to Atria in 2007, which was then called the IIAV and housed on Obiplein in the Indische buurt in Amsterdam. I met you sixteen years later, in May 2023. Atria, now located on Vijzelstraat, was making mini-documentaries about four women from our collection who are an inspiration to feminists today. You couldn't be missing there.

We delved into your (of course) highly structured personal archive and I felt more and more connected to you. You worked so hard and fought so hard for your craft. For our profession. At the time you graduated, there was no archival school and not even a National Archives in Suriname. All the important documents about the history of your country were in the Netherlands. You hated that. The archives should be managed in Suriname itself. Time and again you pointed out to everyone the importance of archives and history (De West, 1989):

You devoted yourself tirelessly to the struggle to establish an official national archive in Suriname. And not just any place, but one that met all the requirements for a full-fledged archival institution. With a proper climate installation to ensure that the paper was always kept at 18°C, with the right employees who were all properly trained. That was your dream for the future.

This drive was in your character, I learned from your letters and your daughter's stories. You were helpful and cordial, but at the same time a hard worker and critical. You didn't let anyone walk all over you. I don't know if these are Amsterdam values. Maybe they are just as much Surinamese values. Or female values. Or the values of someone who learned at an early age to take care of herself.

Although I don't face the same obstacles as you, your dedication and passion for the profession are why I feel so connected to you. You understood how influential archives are; knowledge is power. That's why we need a safe place where government records, love letters, family photos and newspapers are kept. Without archives, your own history, that of your family or your country, cannot be retrieved. After all, how to look back at our shared past if you no longer have the tangible memories?

That is why I am writing this letter to you. To thank you. You make me feel again, from very close quarters, how beautiful and important our work is. As Suriname's first female archivist, you did your best to convince everyone that archives are invaluable and should be well taken care of. I follow in your footsteps and try to continue your work.
Because you already knew, just like one of the founders of Atria: No Documents, No History.

Love Bettemiek