Coro, in the state of Falcón, Venezuela, was founded on July 26, 1527. As the first city in the province of Venezuela, it remained its capital until 1576. Its earthen walls, wrought-iron windows, and port facing Curaçao make it one of the most unique cities in the Caribbean.
On August 3, 1806, a yellow, blue, and red flag was raised at Fortín de San Pedro in La Vela de Coro. This was the first time it had flown over the territory of present-day Venezuela. Francisco de Miranda, who led the expedition, then marched toward the city. He did not find the support he had hoped for and withdrew a few days later. Today, Venezuela celebrates August 3 as Flag Day.
Coro, Venezuela: a city founded on July 26, 1527
Juan de Ampíes founded Santa Ana de Coro on Caquetía lands. The chieftain Manaure attended the first Mass celebrated on the continent alongside him. In 1531, a papal bull established the Diocese of Coro. The coast also attracted pirates. In 1620, they destroyed the church and convent of San Francisco. The building was rebuilt, and its Neo-Gothic tower dates from 1900. Its most recent restoration was completed in late 2006.
Earthen houses and iron windows
In the historic center, buildings are constructed of earth. Bahareque consists of a wooden or reed framework filled with mud. Adobe is a brick made of unfired clay. Tapia is earth compacted into a formwork. Many artisans still master these techniques. The original grid-like layout remains visible, and much of the preserved architecture dates from the 17th century.
Construction of the cathedral began in 1583 but was not completed until the end of the 17th century. The Casa de las Ventanas de Hierro dates from the 17th century. José Francisco Garcés de la Colina built it. It owes its name to its windows, whose wrought iron comes from Andalusia. Its portal exceeds eight meters. The Casa del Tesoro, built in 1770 by the Talavera family, displays the same attention to detail. The 18th-century Balcón de los Arcayas houses the museum of folk pottery.
The designated site includes approximately 602 historic buildings, spread across two areas. The first covers 7.85 hectares in Coro, and the second covers 10.55 hectares around the port of La Vela. Surrounding the city, the Médanos de Coro National Park protects a system of coastal dunes. The shifting sand there contrasts with the city’s earthen streets.
Curaçao, across the water
Starting in the second half of the 17th century, a Dutch style of house arrived via Curaçao and Aruba. It blended with Spanish and local building techniques. Willemstad, on Curaçao, bears a similar legacy of these exchanges. These connections also have a human dimension. A Sephardic community from Curaçao settled in the city beginning in 1824. Its cemetery was established in 1832 by Joseph Curiel.
The connection is not merely historical. In 2023, small boats loaded with fruits and vegetables were scheduled to depart from La Vela de Coro for Curaçao following the reopening of the maritime border. The crossing takes about ten hours.
Why Coro Is on the List of World Heritage in Danger
UNESCO designated the city and its port as a World Heritage Site in 1993. Unusual rains struck the city and La Vela in late 2004 and early 2005. The site has been on the List of World Heritage in Danger since 2005, and it remains on the list today.
In April 2026, Venezuelan authorities signed a memorandum to restore 29 buildings—11 in Coro and 18 in La Vela. The Escuela del Barro, or “School of Earth,” trains new artisans and manufactures adobe bricks. Culture Minister Raúl Cazal stated that UNESCO could verify compliance with the requirements in a year and a half. This timeline remains an estimate. Drainage and funding remain areas of concern.
The city thus depends on a fragile balance between the earth that wears away and the hands that know how to repair it. Who will still be building with earth here ten years from now? And what will the World Heritage Committee say when it reviews the site?
See also: Paramaribo, the City of Wood
Frequently Asked Questions About Coro
The city is located in Falcón State, in western Venezuela. UNESCO inscribed it on the World Heritage List in 1993 for its adobe buildings, which blend local traditions with Spanish Mudéjar and Dutch techniques.
Because unusual rains damaged the city and La Vela in late 2004 and early 2005. The World Heritage Committee inscribed Coro and its port on the List of World Heritage in Danger in 2005, and drainage and site management remain areas of concern.
Starting in the second half of the 17th century, a Dutch architectural style made its way to the city via the islands of Curaçao and Aruba. It influenced the city’s architectural style. The two shores remain connected by trade, with boats sailing between La Vela and Curaçao in 2023.
The penultimate episodeof *Stories of Caribbean Cinema* brings us closer to the present. Since the first installment, which focused on the 1960s, eight episodes have explored various regions, generations, and ways of portraying the Caribbean on film.
This ninth installment brings together two very different works. In *Battledream Chronicle*, Alain Bidard transports Martinique into a futuristic world built around a virtual game. In *Buladó*, Eché Janga returns to Curaçao to explore grief, spirits, and the tensions between rationality and magical thinking. You are now on the ninth episode out of ten. The first eight are already available on Richès Karayib. The next installment will conclude this chronology with Haiti and Guadeloupe.
2015: MARTINIQUE – BATTLEDREAM CHRONICLE, BY ALAIN BIDARD
This film is an exception in this chronology: in fact, it is one of only two animated feature films from the Caribbean film industry. A remarkable feat: both were created entirely—both visually and in terms of sound (particularly the voice acting for several characters)—by Alain Bidard of Martinique. *Battledream Chronicle*, heavily influenced by manga aesthetics, is set in a futuristic world in the year 2100, in which real-world nations compete against one another through a virtual game called Battledream.
The losers see their nation (in this film, Martinique is one such nation) completely dominated by the victors, and their collective memory erased. Reduced to slavery, the inhabitants of the conquered nations must regularly bring a certain amount of credits (“1,000 XP”)—just as, in times past, a certain number of bundles of sugarcane had to be cut—to the Inquisitors, on pain of seeing their community wiped out.
As we can see, this film offers numerous references to the history of slavery and colonialism through subtle allusions. Martinique managed to resist within the Battledream , Martinique will be the last nation to stand against the Empire—known as Mortemonde—and will defeat it. Notably, the great final battle will be led by two female protagonists, who at times wear Creole earrings and at other times a headdress made of madras cloth (“ maré-tèt ” in Creole), as quintessential Caribbean women.
They are clearly the center (“ poto-mitan ” in Creole) of the film’s action: the “femifocality” of Caribbean cinema is gaining momentum. As for Alain Bidard’s second film, *Opal* (2021), it tackles the difficult issue of incest with great sensitivity.
Opal, the daughter of the king and queen of a futuristic kingdom, struggles to escape from her castle and is regularly subjected to visits from her father—whose face is dominated by a horn (an obvious phallic extension)—who takes “her magic” from her. Through the imaginative lens of animated film, Alain Bidard tackles the thorny issue of sexual violence against children—and, more specifically, young girls. More than ever before, women are taking the reins in Caribbean cinema.
2020: CURAÇAO – BULADÓ, BY ECHÉ JANGA
Buladó is one of those films that fully embodies the Caribbean cinema’s capacity to surprise. We follow a teenage girl haunted by the premature death of her mother, whom she never knew, caught between her naturally authoritarian father, Ouira, a police officer, and her eccentric grandfather, Weljo, who speaks with spirits, teetering on the brink of madness.
Based on a plot that has been explored before and relatively predictable conflicts, Eché Janga creates a spellbinding film by highlighting the unique features of the landscape on the small Dutch island of Curaçao—which resembles a desert where a Western might be filmed—as well as the high caliber of its cast and the beauty of Papiamento (Papiamentu), a creole language born from the fusion of Dutch, Portuguese, Spanish, English, and words of African and Amerindian (Arawak) origin, spoken on various Dutch islands in the Caribbean.
The conflict between the father and the grandfather effectively embodies the everyday duality between European rational thought and magical thinking, of African or Native American origin, which still permeates many Caribbean societies today, where rituals are regularly practiced in a surprising syncretism of beliefs often noted by ethnologists. Young Kenza (played by the remarkable Tiara Richards) goes so far as to tell her father—who, like her, is of mixed race—that he is “desecrating” the bed of her recently deceased dog: “You’re really a white man!”—meaning that he is behaving like a Westerner.
The young girl’s gradual grieving process, as her mother “speaks” to her, is intertwined with the unapologetic irrationality of her grandfather, superbly portrayed by Felix De Rooy, the father of Dutch-language Caribbean cinema. Indeed, he converses with the spirits of the Indigenous peoples who were dispossessed of their lands—spirits whose anger does not seem to have subsided.
Here we find ourselves doubly immersed in a visually rich mysticism where dreams and reality often blur. This film, a superb cinematic reflection on grief, concludes with these words in voice-over: “Death is always there. Those who learn to live with it are as free as the wind.” Buladó was selected by the Netherlands to represent the country at the 2021 Oscars.
About the Author
Guillaume Robillard holds a Ph.D. in film studies; he is a professor and researcher, a documentary filmmaker, and a specialist in Caribbean cinema and artistic production. He is the author of two books: *Conquest of Space and Time: Caribbean Cinema (Éditions Jannink, “Hypothèses d’Art,” 2023) and Decolonial Cinema: Characters in Caribbean Cinema (Presses Universitaires des Antilles, “Arts et Esthétique,” 2024).
"Stories of Caribbean Cinema" series. Season 8/10 is already available on Richès Karayib. Season 10/10 coming soon.
The Krioyo Film Festival 2026 will take place from October 26 to November 2, 2026, at Caribbean Cinemas in the Sambil Shopping Center in Willemstad, Curaçao. This third edition will feature 23 films from Curaçao, Aruba, Bonaire, and the Netherlands. The festival is based on a single idea: watching films in Papiamentu on the big screen.
Krioyo Film Festival 2026, a Concert Before the Screenings
On Sunday, October 25, 2026, at 5:30 p.m., the Dutch Caribbean Orchestra will give a free concert in Curaçao. This free concert precedes the screenings of the Krioyo Film Festival 2026, which will be open to the public starting Monday, October 26, 2026. The concert program features film music.
Giovanni Atalita, president of the Krioyo Film Foundation, summed up the issue in October 2025 by saying, “It’s not just entertainment, it’s an identity.” During Siman di Kultura, from September 28 to October 3, 2026, the Krioyo Film Festival 2026 scheduled six evenings of films in Papiamentu at the same Sambil movie theater. Ticket prices for the screenings have not been announced yet.
Three islands, 23 films, and a Nostalgia section
The Krioyo Film Festival 2026 has announced 23 films, both short and feature-length, from Curaçao, Aruba, Bonaire, and the Netherlands. The published titles are Horsepower, Kaya Ta Nos Arena, Makamba Pretu, E Brua Brua 2, Nos Eskudo, Seeing Ourselves, The Car, TUTU, Bassa Marea, Wichi, Porshon, Weg’i Ladron, Entre Nos, Bosnan Silensia, Sikkelcel, Ki te Plan?, Man Enough, On the Eve, Pas ku Ne, Off Center, Kurashi, Res./Her, E KAS, and Un Bunita Dia. Three more films make up the Nostalgia section. The screenings are grouped into blocks, named after hills on the three islands.
The Krioyo Film Foundation is adding workshops on filmmaking and acting on a film set. A special block is presented by a committee commemorating the history of slavery. Janella Refos, the foundation’s secretary, says she wants to give local stories a platform and the local language a voice.
Kadushi di Oro, a trophy that carries a Papiamentu word
At the Krioyo Film Festival 2026, the Kadushi di Oro Award honors those who work both in front of and behind the camera, explains Janice Welhous, a member of the foundation’s board. Kadushi is the Papiamentu name for a columnar cactus, Stenocereus griseus,. The trophy therefore translates to “golden cactus.”
At the first edition in 2024, the Kadushi di Oro was awarded to all 16 participating producers due to the lack of jury criteria. The awards ceremony was held aboard the Freewinds. In 2025, the Aruban film E Bruha, Bruhà by Desiree Croes won it, along with the award for best directing. The film tells the story of three women, a mother, her daughter, and her grandmother, who are confronted by a national park director who wants to evict them from their country home to make way for a tourist rental project. More than 2,000 people saw it in theaters in Aruba.
After the Krioyo Film Festival 2026, the 2034 Challenge
The Krioyo Film Festival took place in Curaçao from October 28 to November 3, 2024, featuring 28 films screened. Its organizers aim to establish it as a major Caribbean film festival by its tenth anniversary in 2034. In 2025, the festival announced 18 films divided into 14 blocks, running from October 27 to November 2. The 2034 target seems ambitious, but the groundwork is in place. Curaçaoan theaters remain consistently packed for films in Papiamentu, particularly among older audiences.
Eloise van Wickeren, Curaçao’s first film commissioner since 2017, believes that audiences need films in which they can see themselves reflected. She also points out that distributors rarely pick up Caribbean films, and that funding remains very scarce. With no other platform available, the Krioyo Film Festival 2026 is encouraging local filmmakers to make short films. The Curaçao International Film Festival held its twelfth edition from April 14 to 19, 2026, featuring a new Watapana Award for Caribbean filmmakers from the Kingdom of the Netherlands and Suriname.
Language, therefore, plays the leading role. Papiamentu is spoken in Curaçao, Aruba, and Bonaire. Richès Karayib has already chronicled the career of Izaline Calister, a singer who performs in Papiamentu. In the world of cinema, the Krioyo Film Festival 2026 provides a similar platform for the island’s voices. Will it be able to attract audiences beyond Willemstad?
FAQ: Krioyo Film Festival 2026
The Krioyo Film Festival 2026 will take place from October 26 to November 2, 2026, at Caribbean Cinemas in the Sambil Shopping Center in Willemstad, Curaçao. A free concert will be held on Sunday, October 25, and public screenings will begin on Monday, October 26.
The organizers have announced 23 films from Curaçao, Aruba, Bonaire, and the Netherlands, plus three films in the Nostalgia section.
“Kadushi di Oro” refers to the grand prize of the Krioyo Film Festival, which the festival’s official website calls the Golden Cactus Award. “Kadushi” is the Papiamentu name for the cactus Stenocereus griseus.
Siman di Kultura 2026, Curaçao’s Culture Week, runs from September 27 to October 4, 2026, for its 22nd edition. The Ministry of Education, Science, Culture and Sport (ESKD) has placed it under the theme “Di Kòrsou pa Mundu,” or “From Curaçao to the World.” It honors singer Izaline Calister and baseball executive Urny Florán. The week opened on Sunday, September 27, in Otrobanda, a neighborhood of Willemstad.
Siman di Kultura 2026, a Sunday in Otrobanda
According to the official program from the ESKD Ministry, Siman di Kultura 2026 opened in Curaçao on Sunday, September 27, with a cultural mass at 8 a.m. at the Basílika di Santa Ana. A ceremony followed at Molenplein from 9:30 a.m. to 10:30 a.m. In the evening, from 4:00 p.m. to 11:00 p.m., the Otrobanda neighborhood hosted music, dance, visual arts, storytelling, and local cuisine, organized by the Fundashon Kaya Kaya. Its Kaya Kaya Festival is described by the Curaçao Chronicle as one of the island’s most renowned cultural events.
At Molenplein, Grupo Den Dam, Oriri, and Axl & Orchestra were on the lineup, with Izaline Calister as a special guest. At St. Martinus, free workshops, lectures, and poetry readings were organized around an interactive podcast with Ruthsel Soliana and Percy Pinedo. On St. Martinusstraat, Hershel Rosario’s Kombo Krioyo performed at “Djadumingu na Otrobanda” (literally, “Sunday in Otrobanda”), which was held in conjunction with World Tourism Day this year. At Brionplein, ten dance groups were scheduled to perform at the Festival di Bailenan Folklóriko organized by the SKOBA association.
Izaline Calister and Urny Florán: Two Faces of Curaçao
Izaline Calister sings in Papiamentu, the language of Curaçao, and blends jazz with Afro-Caribbean rhythms, including tambú, a musical genre that, according to local media, originated during the era of slavery. Her first solo album, Soño di un muhé, was released in 2000. She was awarded an Edison Award in 2009. Her show Tula en Juliet connects Tula, the leader of the 1795 slave revolt, to her own family history. The ministry commends her promotion of Papiamentu. Richès Karayib has previously covered Izaline Calister’s career.
Urny Florán, for his part, is being honored for his commitment to youth baseball and to international competitions involving Curaçao’s teams. In 2026, the island won its second Little League World Series title with an 11-2 victory over Nevada. None of the sources consulted link this title to Urny Florán’s career.
Twenty-two editions, one idea
The ESKD Ministry organizes the week every fall, with a theme and, depending on the year, a special dedication. In 2024, the 20th edition had the theme “Kultura ta nos, bib’é,” “Culture is ours, let’s live it.” In 2025, Siman di Kultura was dedicated to Grupo Serenada and the island’s musical heritage. In 2023, it focused on Tula. According to Caribisch Netwerk, nowhere else in the Kingdom of the Netherlands is one’s own culture celebrated for an entire week.
Six movie nights in Papiamentu
During Siman di Kultura 2026, the Krioyo Film Festival, Caribbean Cinemas, Sambil, and One&Only will screen a film in Papiamentu every evening at 6:30 p.m., from September 28 to October 3. The screenings will take place at Caribbean Cinemas in Sambil, Willemstad. On Monday, September 28, Boka Sarantonio (drama) kicked off the series. A TV movie of the same title, directed in 1985 by Pacheco Domacassé, former director of Kas di Kultura, exists, but the program does not specify whether it is the same work.
This Tuesday, September 29, Brua (short film) is on the program. Next up are Hachi su number a hunga (comedy) on the 30th, Mondi ku ne (drama) on October 1, and Dibina (comedy-drama) on the 2nd. On October 3, Kofi Gratis and Roba Alma will precede the documentary Enrico. This film series is not sponsored by the ESKD Ministry, whose official page makes no mention of it.
Siman di Kultura 2026: What’s Still to Come
As of September 29, 2026, the official pages do not provide details about the rest of Siman di Kultura 2026, aside from the opening ceremony and film screenings. “Djadumingu na Otrobanda” is scheduled to return on the last Sunday of every month, which will be October 25, 2026, the day the third Krioyo Film Festival opens. Will Curaçaoan culture remain in the streets of Otrobanda once the week ends on October 4?
Frequently Asked Questions About Siman di Kultura 2026
Siman di Kultura 2026 will take place from Sunday, September 27, to Sunday, October 4, 2026, in Curaçao. This is the 22nd edition, organized by the Ministry of Education, Science, Culture and Sport (ESKD).
The theme is “Di Kòrsou pa Mundu,” which means “From Curaçao to the World” in English. The ESKD Ministry is honoring singer Izaline Calister and baseball executive Urny Florán.
According to the official program, the opening ceremony on September 27, 2026, took place in Curaçao, featuring a cultural mass at the Basílika di Santa Ana, a ceremony at Molenplein, and a parade in Otrobanda, Willemstad, from 4:00 p.m. to 11:00 p.m.
In the 1950s, a Dutch Dominican priest arrived in Curaçao with a notebook and a tape recorder. Paul Brenneker did not come to convert people; he came to listen. For more than forty years, he traveled the island from house to house, encouraging the elders to speak, recording their songs, stories, and sayings before they were lost with them.
This tireless work would result in an entire collection devoted solely to proverbs, later republished under the title “1001 Proverbio na Papiamentu”. Among the thousand and one sayings he saved from oblivion, just one is enough to capture the entire island way of life: “Trempan ta bende, lat ta malai.”
The meaning of “Trempan ta bende, lat ta malai,” reconstructed word for word
The word-for-word translation is based on several Papiamento-English and Papiamento-Dutch dictionaries, since no official French version is available. “Trempan” means “early,” “bende” means “to sell,” “lat” means “late,” and “malai” functions as an intensifier found in other Papiamento expressions related to regret, similar to “dearly” or “bitterly.”
The meaning that emerges is clear: selling early pays off, while waiting too long comes at a high cost. This reconstruction is as faithful as possible to the available sources, but it should be confirmed directly in the reference work before final publication.
A market adage, not a lesson from school
This type of saying belongs to the very lively genre of “refranan”, phrases of practical wisdom that the people of Curaçao have been sharing for generations about work, business, or patience. The tone is informal and pragmatic; it’s used to set someone straight who’s taking too long to act, not to philosophize in a living room.
At the floating markets in Willemstad or along the roadside, a vendor who’s too slow to lower his price at the end of the day will still hear this kind of reminder, offered with a smile rather than a reproach.
This is exactly the kind of scene Brenneker was on the lookout for the spoken word rather than scholarly texts, and which he eventually documented alongside the Curaçaoan artist Elis Juliana, compiling nearly 1,400 songs, stories, and sayings that are now preserved by the Stichting NAAM foundation.
A memory that the island continues to keep alive
This cultural heritage isn’t just gathering dust in the archives. The government of Curaçao continues to republish some of these proverbs, including this one, on its official channels, proving that Brenneker’s collection still influences the present.
Papiamentu has been the official language of Curaçao since 2007, a status confirmed after the dissolution of the Netherlands Antilles in 2010, and according to the 2023 census, 78% of residents report speaking it most often at home, far ahead of Dutch, even though Dutch is the only language used by the government.
A common language, a spelling system that sets it apart
Papiamentu isn’t unique to Curaçao. It’s also spoken in Aruba and Bonaire, and Brenneker had, in fact, collected proverbs from all three islands combined. But Curaçao maintains a distinct identity, with its own spelling adopted in 1976 “papiamentu” with a “u” whereas Aruba spells it “papiamento” with an “o.”
A subtle linguistic difference that speaks volumes: each island has retained control over how it writes a common language, without ever imposing a single standard on the other two. The oldest known text in Papiamento dates back to 1775, a letter from a Sephardic Jewish resident of the island, and the first catechism printed in the language, published in 1837, is now listed on UNESCO’s Memory of the World Register.
What a Priest and an Artist Saved
Paul Brenneker died in 1996, and Elis Juliana in 2013. Yet what they recorded together, door to door, tape after tape continues to circulate, from a reissued book to a government Facebook page.
“Trempan ta bende, lat ta malai” is therefore not just market advice; it is all that remains of an entire island when two men decide, one day, that the words of their ancestors are worth preserving. It remains to be seen how many of the thousand and one proverbs they have collected are still waiting for their turn to be passed on to a new generation.
Frequently Asked Questions About “Trempan ta bende, lat ta malai”
Literally, “trempan” means “early,” “bende” means “to sell,” and “lat” means “late,” while “malai” acts as an intensifier. The meaning is clear: selling early pays off, while waiting too long is costly. This translation was reconstructed using Papiamento-English and Papiamento-Dutch dictionaries, in the absence of an official French version.
The Dutch Dominican priest Paul Brenneker, who traveled throughout Curaçao for more than forty years with a notebook and a tape recorder, alongside the Curaçaoan artist Elis Juliana. Together, they collected nearly 1,400 songs, stories, and sayings, which are now preserved by the Stichting NAAM foundation. The proverbs have been republished in the collection *1001 Proverbio na Papiamentu*.
It is the same language, spoken in Curaçao, Aruba, and Bonaire. Curaçao spells it “papiamentu,” with a “u,” according to a spelling system adopted in 1976, while Aruba spells it “papiamento,” with an “o.” Papiamentu has been the official language of Curaçao since 2007.
The history of Caribbean cinema continues its journey through the 1980s. After three episodes devoted to the early developments of several cinematic movements in the region, this fourth installment brings together two films from Martinique and one from Curaçao.
From the “marronnage” in *Le Sang du flamboyant* to the international trajectory of *Rue Cases-Nègres*, and on to the unique worldof *Almacita di Desolato*, these three works explore different relationships to memory, oral tradition, Africa, and Caribbean imaginaries. This article is the fourth installment in a series of ten. The first three are already available on Richès Karayib, and six more will continue this story through the 2020s.
1981: MARTINIQUE — *The Blood of the Flamingo*, by François Migeat
This film is unique in Caribbean cinema. Indeed, its director is a “Metropolitan” (that is, a white man from mainland France who had no deep-rooted ties to the French West Indies) who married the Martinican actress Émilie Benoît and was invited by the poet and politician Aimé Césaire to lead the first audiovisual training program in the Antilles at the SERMAC (Municipal Cultural Action Service) in the city of Fort-de-France.
Unlike *Dérives* or *The Garden Woman* (1977), *Le Sang du flamboyant*, which received strong support from Césaire, was commercially released in theaters and even had the honor of being screened at the renowned Columbia University in New York. It is based on a historical event, namely the “marronage” (originally, a slave’s escape from the plantation) of Monsieur Beauregard (renamed Alban in the film), who eluded the police in the southern part of the post-slavery colony of Martinique from 1942 to 1949, making him one of the last historical Maroons in the Caribbean.
This feature film is characterized by the central role of the “Nègre marron,” one of the recurring characters in Caribbean cinema as well as in traditional Creole storytelling, who drives most of the plot in a cinematic tradition where oral storytelling continues to thrive. Furthermore, it is one of the first films to incorporate a “magical dimension” into the plot, which poses a challenge for the Béké (a descendant of a slave-owning family), generously portrayed by the famous actor and producer Jacques Perrin.
“Femifocality” is also prominent in the character of Élia (played with gravitas by Émilie Benoît, who was the lead actress in *Dérives* or *La Femme-Jardin*), a “woman who stands tall” who narrates the film’s story alongside her storytelling partner Gélus—a female presence that defies the historical tradition that Creole storytellers are exclusively men.
1983: MARTINIQUE—RUE CASES-NÈGRES, BY EUZHAN PALCY
To date, this is undoubtedly the best-known Caribbean film in the world. It is an adaptation of one of the classics of Caribbean literature, the autobiographical novel *La Rue Cases-Nègres* by Joseph Zobel, a close associate of the “Négritude” poet Aimé Césaire. The film won the Silver Lion and the Volpi Cup for Best Actress, awarded to Darling Légitimus (grandmother of the famous Pascal Légitimus of the comedy trio “Les Inconnus”), marking the culmination of her fifty-year career at the Venice Film Festival in 1983.
In addition, the director won the César Award for Most Promising Newcomer in 1984. Her subsequent career has been exceptional: after moving to Hollywood, she became the first Black woman to direct Hollywood studio films, with works such asA Dry White Season (1989)—a film about apartheid in South Africa that marked Marlon Brando’s return to the big screen—and the Walt Disney production Ruby Bridges’ Struggle (1998), based on the true story of the first Black girl to attend a school for white children in the southern United States.
His career was recently recognized with an Honorary Oscar in 2022. As for *Rue Cases-Nègres*, it brought young Caribbean cinema to international attention, from the United States to Japan. By following the journey of young José (Garry Cadenat) in the post-slavery colony of Martinique in the 1930s, the film actually addresses the harsh conditions faced by sugarcane workers and the lingering legacy of the era of slavery. As in *Coco la Fleur, Candidate* (1979) and *Le Sang du flamboyant* (1981) features the figure of the Creole storyteller—here embodied by old Médouze—as well as the influence of Négritude.
Furthermore, this child’s educational journey reflects both his social emancipation and the process of “cultural assimilation” through the nature of the courses taught, Grandmother Man Tine (Darling Légitimus), a true embodiment of the traditional “female-centered” perspective of Caribbean cinema, tells her grandson: “You’ll go to their school!” A true classic of Caribbean cinema!
1986: Curaçao – Almacita di Desolato, by Felix de Rooy
After her first feature film, shot in Brooklyn, *Désirée* (1984)—based on the true story of a woman who killed her baby because she was convinced it was possessed by the Devil— the gay couple Felix De Rooy and Norman de Palm shot their second film on the island of Curaçao, where they are from, drawing inspiration from a Caribbean folktale. The landscapes of this small Dutch island of 444 km² off the coast of Venezuela—ranging from caves to desert—serve as the setting for a fusion of magical rituals and the dire reality of an isolated village in an unspecified era.
This legend highlights the African component of Caribbean identities (which can be seen in the village’s architecture, the women’s clothing, traditional knowledge passed down orally, etc.) through a plot that recounts—via a remarkable fictional detour—the transatlantic slave trade and slavery, a history “etched into the skin,” as the film’s voice-over explains.
In addition to its more pronounced fictional nature compared to many Caribbean films—which tend to remain rooted in a certain social or historical reality—this feature film stands out for the multidisciplinary nature of its references, drawn from the background of its director, Felix De Rooy, as a poet, theater artist, and visual artist (among other roles), which lends this work a talented stylistic flair that sets it apart within Caribbean cinema.
Shortly thereafter, the De Rooy-De Palm duo would release another surprising film: Ava & Gabriel (1990), one of the first major stories of romantic desire set within an interethnic love triangle during the colonial era (a “taboo” combination, if ever there was one), one of those films tinged with homosexuality (a very rare subject in the region) through secondary characters and accompanied by a generous exploration of Caribbean arts.
As in Almacita di desolato, the entire work is steeped in the musicality of Papiamento (Papiamentu), a creole language born from the fusion of Dutch, Portuguese, Spanish, English, and words of African and Native American (Arawak) origin, as well as by magical-religious beliefs that lend the film an effective sense of magical realism. Shortly thereafter, this duo of effusive talent would burst onto the scene, giving this second film the air of a precious artistic testament.
About the Author
Guillaume Robillard holds a Ph.D. in film studies; he is a professor and researcher, a documentary filmmaker, and a specialist in Caribbean cinema and artistic production. He is the author of two books: *Conquest of Space and Time: Caribbean Cinema (Éditions Jannink, “Hypothèses d’Art,” 2023) and Decolonial Cinema: Characters in Caribbean Cinema (Presses Universitaires des Antilles, “Arts et Esthétique,” 2024).
The release of Magma, a film by French director Cyprien Vial heavily inspired by the 1976 eruption of La Soufrière, which raised fears that the capital city of Basse-Terre (Guadeloupe) would be destroyed, followed by two films directed by Guadeloupeans, namely Fanon (Jean-Claude Barny), about the famous anti-colonialist intellectual during his time in Algeria, and *Zion*, in less than a month, succeeded in drawing the attention of the French media (Le Monde, Libération, etc.) to the potential of Caribbean cinema and, more broadly, of films dealing with the French overseas territories.
"Stories of Caribbean Cinema" series. Episode 3 of 10 is already available on Richès Karayib. Stay tuned for Episode 5 of 10 coming soon.
In Curaçao, keshi yena is a dish served on special occasions: a Gouda or Edam cheese that has been hollowed out and stuffed with meat, olives, and raisins. The very act of preparing this dish carries the memory of a colonial system in which items deemed worthless were discarded. What slave kitchens made of these leftovers continues to grace the island’s festive tables today.
A dish to make as a family
Many Curaçaoan families save keshi yena for Sunday meals or major celebrations, when the house is full of guests and they need a dish that can feed everyone. It takes time to prepare: you have to carefully hollow out a whole ball of cheese without piercing the rind, then fill it with a simmered meat stuffing before baking it in the oven until the cheese melts from the inside. This tradition, passed down from kitchen to kitchen, reveals a history far older than the recipe itself.
Keshi Yena, a Dutch cheese that has become a Curaçao specialty
In Papiamento, the Creole language of Curaçao, “keshi yena ” literally means “stuffed cheese.” The word “keshi” comes from the Dutch word “kaas,” which means “cheese.” This is no linguistic coincidence, Curaçao was long a trading post of the Dutch West India Company, and Gouda or Edam cheese—imported in round wheels from the Netherlands—was among the foods consumed by Dutch settlers on the island. The dish’s name bears a direct trace of this colonial trade, even before one considers what lies inside the wheel of cheese.
The story of an act born of compulsion
According to the story passed down in Curaçao, the keshi yena originated in the kitchens of the plantations, where enslaved people prepared meals for their colonial masters. Once the insides of the Gouda and Edam cheese wheels had been eaten, they left behind a shell of rind that the colonists considered worthless. According to this story, rather than throwing it away, the cooks filled it with leftover meat, vegetables, and spices from the table, then baked it again.
To date, no dated institutional source has made it possible to confirm exactly when this tradition began, but the story has been consistently passed down from one generation of Curaçaoans to the next, to the point that it shapes the way the island itself recounts the origins of this dish.
Curaçao, a hub of Dutch trade
This story takes on its full meaning when viewed within the context of the island’s history. Starting in the seventeenth century, Curaçao played a central role in the Atlantic trade organized by the Netherlands, including the trade in enslaved Africans, who passed through the island before being sent on to other colonies. Willemstad, the capital, still retains its mercantile architecture today, with its colorful facades inherited from Dutch trade.
Keshi yena emerged from this forced encounter between dairy products from Northern Europe and an African workforce that had asked for nothing to do with this trade, yet transformed what was once waste into a dish. Curaçao, already chronicled by Richès Karayib through the Tula revolt, still bears the traces of this Dutch colonial history today.
A dish that Curaçao shares with Aruba
Keshi yena isn’t limited to Curaçao. The neighboring island of Aruba, which shares a similar Dutch colonial history with Curaçao, also claims this stuffed cheese as its own national dish. Both islands follow the same basic recipe, with slight variations from household to household, and neither is willing to yield to the other. Rather than a rivalry, this shared tradition speaks to the Dutch-speaking region of the Caribbean—a common act of cultural appropriation, born out of a shared colonial context, adopted and claimed as their own identity by two distinct territories.
From the Kitchen of Necessity to the Festive Table
Today’s keshi yena bears little resemblance to a dish born of necessity. Over time, the filling has become more elaborate, featuring simmered chicken or beef, raisins, olives, and sometimes prunes, creating a sweet-and-savory balance that sets the dish apart from any other meat pie in the region. Some cooks still bake it in a whole wheel of cheese, just as they did in the old days, while others, short on time, make do with a baking dish or ramekin lined with slices of cheese. The result is unmistakable: a flaky crust that crumbles under the fork to reveal a generous filling.
What the Keshi Yena Continues to Bring Together
Keshi yena no longer belongs to anyone in particular—neither to the colonists whose name it bears, nor to the cooks who invented it out of necessity. Today it belongs to the dining tables of Curaçao and Aruba, where it continues to bring families together around a tradition inherited in spite of itself. It remains to be seen how many Curaçaoan households continue to hollow out an entire melon rather than taking the shortcut of using a ramekin—and what that says about the way an island chooses to remember. Curaçao, already chronicled by Richès Karayib through The Career of Curaçaoan Artist David Paulus, continues to bring to life an identity that is expressed through both art and cuisine.
Keshi yena is a Gouda or Edam cheese that has been hollowed out and stuffed with stewed meat, olives, and raisins; it is considered a national dish in Curaçao and Aruba.
The name comes from Papiamento, the Creole language of Curaçao; “keshi” means “cheese,” borrowed from the Dutch word “kaas,” and “yena” means “stuffed.”
According to a story passed down in Curaçao, the dish originated in plantation kitchens, when enslaved people reused the cheese rinds discarded by Dutch colonists to fill them with leftover meat.
At the Curaçao Museum, faces seem to speak to one another. Some are familiar; others evoke families, trades, stories, and expressions passed down through the generations. Since August 20, 2026, the exhibition “Rumbo i Raís” has brought together more than 100 works: portraits, mixed-media pieces, and three-dimensional creations. Through this collection, David Paulus reflects on his native island, its people, and the memories that continue to shape Curaçao.
The exhibition serves as a meeting point for various aspects of her career. Fashion, visual arts, performance, teaching, and family history all intersect here. Behind the works, a single question keeps recurring: Where do we come from, who shapes us, and what do we choose to pass on?
First Aid in Curaçao
Born in 1986 and raised in Curaçao, David Paulus says he discovered the joy of creating at an early age. As a child, he helped his mother make dolls to sell and watched his grandmother sew her own dresses. He also remembers small fashion shows held in the garden. Today, these domestic activities take on a new significance. They place creativity at the heart of a family tradition, even before it became a profession. Based in the Netherlands since 2003, the artist has built a world in which clothing, imagery, and staging interact.
Fashion as a Testing Ground
David Paulus identifies as an Afro-Caribbean artist and works at the intersection of several disciplines. In fashion, he develops what he calls “Art Couture.” His creations do more than simply clothe; they construct characters, atmospheres, and narratives.
This approach has led him to participate in various events, including Fashion Weeks in Amsterdam, London, Paris, and Curaçao. He also conceives his presentations as performances, with a focus on the models, music, set design, and choreography. This freedom allows him to gradually move beyond the traditional framework of clothing. For him, fashion becomes one language among many, capable of conveying a memory or questioning an identity.
When Roots Become the Subject
In April 2025, the “Paga Tera” clearly pointed in this direction. Presented in Amsterdam, it brought together fashion, identity, family narratives, and Curaçao’s heritage. David Paulus explained at the time that his work also serves to honor the stories of his ancestors and the Afro-Caribbean diaspora. Clothing is therefore no longer merely a form of spectacle. It becomes a medium for looking back, questioning what has been passed down, and bringing to light cultural references that are sometimes absent from mainstream fashion circles.
This research also ties in with his interest in arts education. After largely teaching himself, he began training in the Netherlands to become a teacher of visual arts and design. During a stay in Curaçao in 2023, he focused in particular on new ways to integrate creativity into the local education system.
More than a hundred works, a collective memory
With “Rumbo i Raís”, David Paulus takes this reflection a step further. The Curaçao Museum presents the exhibition as a dialogue between historical legacies, contemporary voices, personal memories, and collective history. The people depicted do not claim to represent the entirety of Curaçaoan society. They constitute an artistic selection shaped by the artist’s research, encounters, and perspective.
This choice is essential. It prevents the exhibition from becoming an official inventory of Curaçao. Instead, the portraits serve as gateways to broader stories—those of families, generations, and cultural references that continue to resonate today.
David Paulus: Between Leadership and His Roots
The title “Rumbo i Raís” can be understood as an encounter between direction and roots. These two ideas also sum up David Paulus’s journey. His work evolves, changes form, and spans multiple disciplines, yet it regularly returns to Curaçao. Perhaps that is where his uniqueness lies. He does not choose between fashion and art, between personal creation and transmission. He uses each medium to ask the same question in a different form.
Today, more than a hundred works invite the public to recognize a face, a story, or a part of themselves. But behind this recognition lies a deeper question. If our roots help define our path, what will we, in turn, choose to leave for future generations? Discover David Paulus, an artist from Curaçao, his journey through Art Couture, memory, and identity, and his exhibition *Rumbo i Raís* at the Curaçao Museum in 2026.
David Paulus is an Afro-Caribbean artist born and raised in Curaçao. His work spans fashion, Art Couture, and the visual arts, with a particular focus on identity, roots, and cultural transmission.
Rumbo i Raís is an exhibition by David Paulus on view at the Curaçao Museum since August 20, 2026. It features more than 100 works, including portraits, mixed-media pieces, and three-dimensional works exploring the themes of memory and Curaçao’s roots.
Curaçao’s roots run deep throughout David Paulus’s artistic journey. His works explore family histories, ancestors, Afro-Caribbean identity, and what each generation chooses to pass on to the next.
In Curaçao, Ser’i Neger today bears witness to the history of the former Fontein plantation. On August 25, 1795, this landscape became one of the main theaters of the revolt led by Tula against slavery. Two hundred thirty-one years later, the story of this battle has returned to the forefront, along with an urgent heritage issue. How can we preserve a site where a crucial chapter in Curaçao’s struggle for freedom was written?
On August 17, 1795, it all began in Kenepa
Eight days before the Battle of Ser’i Neger, the revolt began at the Kenepa plantation, now also known as Knip. On August 17, enslaved people, led by Tula, refused to return to work and demanded their freedom. The official website of Curaçao describes this event as the beginning of the most significant resistance to slavery in the island’s history.
The movement was not limited to Kenepa. The insurgents spread to other plantations, freed prisoners, and sought out weapons and food. According to a historical account preserved by the Digitale Bibliotheek voor de Nederlandse Letteren, the group grew rapidly. In Portomarí, colonial forces attempted to regain control, but an attack launched on August 19 was repelled. The revolt then took on a scale that the authorities could no longer consider an isolated incident.
Ser’i Neger, the site of a decisive battle
After further clashes, the fighters regrouped on the hill known as Ser’i Neger, in the Fontein region. The terrain provided them with a position from which they could resist the forces sent against them. Attempts at negotiation took place. An offer of amnesty was made on the condition that the insurgents return to work. It was rejected. Their demand remains the same: freedom.
On August 25, 1795, colonial forces launched a new attack on Ser’i Neger. The clash was violent. The Antilliaans Dagblad reported that more than 100 enslaved people lost their lives there. Faced with better-armed and more numerous troops, the resistance fighters eventually abandoned the high ground and retreated toward the Mount Christoffel region. The battle did not immediately put an end to the revolt. The resistance continued for several more weeks before its main leaders were gradually arrested. Tula was eventually captured and then executed along with other fighters.
Ser’i Neger: A Landscape That Has Become a Heritage Site
Ser’i Neger is therefore not just a name associated with Tula. The site preserves the physical traces of a pivotal episode in Curaçao’s history. That is precisely what gives it its heritage value today. Unlike a museum or a monument built to commemorate an event, the heritage here is the land itself, a hill, a landscape, a place where men and women resisted, fought, and lost their lives.
This aspect explains the repeated calls for protection. As early as 2006, several heritage organizations called for formal recognition of the site. In 2018, part of the hillside was damaged, resulting, according to the *Antilliaans Dagblad*, in a loss of cultural and archaeological value. The Monumentenraad now hopes that Ser’i Neger will be recognized as a true “Place of Memory,” dedicated to education, the transmission of knowledge, and the commemoration of the history of slavery.
From Tula to the Collective Memory
Tula’s place in official history has itself evolved. In 2010, Curaçao recognized Tula and the other fighters of 1795 as heroes of the resistance. In 2023, the Dutch government also granted Tula official rehabilitation. These recognitions lend particular significance to the current debate. Honoring a historical figure is one step. Preserving the sites where his struggle took place is another.
In August 2026, the Monumentenraad once again called on the government to move forward with the acquisition and protection of Ser’i Neger. Questions were also raised in the Curaçao Parliament regarding its recognition as a site of remembrance. Two hundred thirty-one years after the battle, Ser’i Neger thus connects history, territory, and the passing down of heritage. Preserving this hill means preserving more than just a landscape. It means enabling future generations to know where, in 1795, men and women turned a demand for freedom into resistance. And why this place continues today to challenge Curaçao to reflect on what it chooses to pass on to tomorrow.
Ser’i Neger is associated with the 1795 revolt led by Tula against slavery in Curaçao. On August 25, 1795, the site was the scene of a major clash between the insurgents and colonial forces.
The battle resulted in heavy casualties and stands as one of the defining moments of the revolt led by Tula.
The preservation of Ser’i Neger aims to safeguard a site directly linked to the history of slavery and resistance on Curaçao. Heritage advocates, in particular, hope to turn it into a space for remembrance, education, and the passing down of knowledge.
For the first time, Curaçao welcomed more than 400,000 overnight tourists during the first six months of a year. Between January and June 2026, the island recorded 437,086 visitors, a 9% increase compared to the same period in 2025. This is a historic figure. But it doesn’t yet tell the whole story: how can this growth create more value for residents, local businesses, and the island?
Curaçao Reaches a New Milestone
The month of June confirmed this trend. The island welcomed 62,867 overnight visitors, compared with 57,413 a year earlier. These arrivals generated 497,426 overnight stays, up 12%, while the average length of stay reached 7.9 nights. This detail is important. A destination doesn’t just benefit when it attracts more travelers. It benefits most when those visitors stay longer, shop at local businesses, dine at restaurants, choose local activities, and spend their money beyond the major tourist complexes.
In June, 54% of travelers stayed in hotels or resorts, compared with 46% who stayed in alternative accommodations. This near-parity shows that tourism Curaçao is no longer limited to traditional housing providers. It opens up opportunities for smaller providers, but also raises questions about short-term rentals and access to housing.
Markets that don't experience the island in the same way
The Netherlands remains the top source market for tourism. In June, 20,029 Dutch visitors stayed on the island, a 22% increase from the previous year. Their average length of stay was 12.1 nights, significantly longer than that of American or Colombian visitors. The United States ranked second with 16,070 arrivals, despite a 6% decline. According to the Curaçao Tourist Board, this temporary decline is believed to be linked in part to residents who traveled to follow the national team during the World Cup. Some of the available airline seats were reportedly used for departures from the island during that time.
Colombia, for its part, continues to gain momentum, with 7,144 visitors in June—a 24% increase. This growth underscores the geographic proximity of Curaçao along with South America and the growing role of Latin American markets.
A more diverse audience
For the first half of the year as a whole, the Netherlands accounted for 31% of arrivals, ahead of the United States at 27%. Canada and Colombia each accounted for 7%, Brazil for 5%, and Argentina for 4%. This diversification reduces dependence on a single source of travelers. It also requires tourism stakeholders to adapt flight routes, the languages used, cultural offerings, and the services provided. For the island, therefore, the challenge is no longer simply to attract more tourists. It is to better understand their profiles, their travel habits, and their actual contribution to the local economy.
A record alone is not enough to measure success
Tourism supports the hospitality industry, restaurants, transportation, and numerous services. But a rapid increase in visitor numbers also leads to greater demand for water, energy, transportation, housing, and waste management. This is where the record takes on a different nature. It becomes an indicator of success, but also a test of capacity. An island can welcome more visitors while undermining its ecological balance if infrastructure, skilled jobs, and local resources do not keep pace.
The real added value will therefore be seen elsewhere: in the number of jobs created, the portion of spending that stays in the local economy, the growth of local businesses, and the preservation of cultural heritage.
Beyond the Numbers: The Question of the Model
The first half of 2026 confirms Curaçao’s international appeal. Markets are diversifying, overnight stays are on the rise, and the average length of stay is increasing. But the next key indicator may not be a new record for arrivals. We will need to assess what this growth actually means for residents. Welcoming 437,086 visitors in six months is a historic achievement. Turning this visitor traffic into a sustainable driver of growth for Curaçao would be an even greater success.
Curaçao welcomed 437,086 overnight visitors between January and June 2026. This represents a 9% increase compared to the same period in 2025 and is the best first half-year for tourism the island has ever recorded.
The Netherlands remains Curaçao’s largest market, followed by the United States. Canada, Colombia, Brazil, and Argentina are also contributing to tourism growth, reflecting a gradual diversification of visitors.
This growth supports the hospitality, restaurant, and transportation sectors, as well as many local businesses. However, it also increases the demand for housing, water, energy, transportation, and waste management. The main challenge, therefore, is to turn this record growth into sustainable benefits for residents and the local economy.
