In 1667, in what appeared at the time to be a killer deal, the Dutch East India Company traded an island in north America for a lush chunk of jungle in South America to the British government. The Dutch were happy to get rid of Manhattan and relieve the English (their Atlantic imperialist rivals) of their tropical real estate just north of Brazil. Sadly, as so often happens, what seems like a slam dunk today, turns out (to really mix the metaphorical brew) a white elephant tomorrow. I mean who could have predicted that slavery would ever be outlawed? And that the good times on the sugar plantations of Surinam would come to a grinding halt?

The Dutch, being Dutch, squeezed the labor out of their slaves for a full ten years after they emancipated them in 1863 (a mere three decades after the English and French declared their slaves free) in part because they needed a back up plan. Where on earth were they going to find another compliant mob of non-Europeans to break their backs in the humid fields of South America now that the Africans had got their rights?

Well, the place on earth they turned to was British India. To be more precise to the Bhojpuri speaking regions of modern day Uttar Pradesh and Bihar, from whence so many villagers were lured from their homes with the promise of good wages and good times in places like Fiji and Mauritius. The recruiters for the Dutch spread a specious story that those who "volunteered" would be taken on a sort of pilgrimage to a place called "Sri Ram", (Surinam).

Between the 1870s and 1916 more than 34,000 Indians made the fateful journey to Surinam. Like their kinsmen in other sugar-based colonial economies they were indentured to plantation owners and promised that they could return home to India after five years of service. If they paid their own passage. About a third of them did, but the remainder stayed on, leveraging the land and crash grants handed out by the Dutch, into shops, educations and eventually a position of influence in the small, nearly forgotten country perched on the shoulder of South America.

Today Surinamese of Indian origin account for about 30% of the population. Similar to other Indian diaspora communities in the West Indies, the Pacific and Indian Oceans, the Indians of Surinam, sometimes called, ‘Kalkattias’ in reference to their point of embarkation, have maintained a strong cultural identity that is not entirely Indian but rather creole and multifaceted. The community’s music baithak gana has played an important part in the development of popular music all across the Caribbean region. Let’s go on a bit of a tour.

Raat ke sapna
Ramdew Chaitoe



The king of Surinam Hindustani music, Ramdew Chaitoe, burst onto the local scene in 1967 as a harmonium player and singer of the devotional music passed down through the generations: the bhajan. Though his music was "religious" in origin and even intent, Chaitoe’s vigorous handling of the harmonium and predilection for driving drum beats turned many of his songs into dance hits. This particular song was a massive hit across the country and even the region, attracting listeners in the Caribbean and West Indian diaspora communities of New York. Probably no Indian-Surinamese singer is held in such high regard, even though he passed away in 1994. This song is typical of Chaitoe’s style and is often referred to as "Chutney", the distinctive Indo-Caribbean music especially popular in Trinidad and Guyana. While the sound of Chaitoe’s music is less polished and produced than modern chutney, baithak gana is responsible for contributing to the evolution of that dance form. Baithak gana¸ was traditionally played by three instruments, dholak, harmonium and dhantal, the last an iron rod that is beaten with a horseshoe shaped clapper, unique to the Indo-Caribbean community.

Tera Saya
Soesita Orie



There is little information about Ms Orie available other than she now lives in Holland. Indeed, the Dutch offered full citizenship to their Surinamese subjects as early as 1927 (nearly a half century before granting them Independence in 1975) and large numbers of the community have taken up residence in the former colonial country. This song, Tera Saya Jahan Bhi Ho Sajna¸ was made famous by Nayyara Noor the Pakistani ghazal artist but has been given a distinctly up-beat embellishment to suit the tastes of the Surinamese community. While the electronic keyboards can distract from the vocals there are a few tasty little guitar breaks throughout that make this song a very pleasant offering.

Moray Gari Suno
Dropati



Dropati’s 1968 album "Lets Sing and Dance" is one of the great Caribbean albums of that or any era. Like Ramdew Chaitoe, whose gendered alter-ego she could be considered, Dropati sang upbeat songs based on religious themes which had the ability to get people up on the floor instead of simply doing demure puja. This song is a traditional Bhojpuri wedding song making fun of the bridegroom. Along with Ramdew, Dropati revolutionised the music culture of the Indian West Indian communities opening the door for non-religious, more pop oriented music which quickly evolved from baithak gana to chutney.

Dui Mutthi
Raj Mohan



Raj Mohan a young Dutch Indian Surinamese singer credits himself with being the first to sing modern, western pop music in Sarnami, the creolised version of Bhojpuri/Hindi that has become the lingua franca of Surinam’s Indian community. When he broached the idea with his mother she blanched, telling him that "our language is not good enough". Indeed, during the days of immigration, the Indian community in Surinam was from time to time disparaged as being the dregs of India, the lowest strata of society. For years such inferiority rested deep in the psyche of many in the community. Singing in this "low" language was something that could not be considered. But by persisting, Raj Mohan is starting to make a name for himself as a sensitive and very creative musical artist and spokesman for his people. This song speaks, in Sarnami, of the history of his people and their migration to Surinam.

Merengue Mix (Woh Chand Khila / Bade Hai Dil )
Amit Sewgolam



Amit is the son of another well-known and much loved Indian-Surinamese singer, Radjoe Sewgolam whose record Mera Naam was well received in the Caribbean when it came out in 1978. Taking baithak gana into a new era and mixing in the rapid 2/4 beats of Dominican merengue Amit keeps the family and cultural tradition of Surinam’s Indian community alive.