Mining heritage that connects generations

Sometimes chance brings us closer to our own story. That was the case for Heerlen native Jop Vermeesch, who was contacted by a grandchild of his grandmother Mien: would he like to pick up a box of old documents about his grandfather? He couldn’t refuse. While the yellowed papers and black-and-white photos initially meant little to Jop, his father, Emile Vermeesch, immediately saw their value: he recognized faces and could interpret official documents through his own childhood memories. In the photos, they see how Emile’s family, recently arrived from what was then the Dutch East Indies, tried to adopt Dutch customs and appear before the camera within socially imposed expectations. A seemingly harmonious image of Dutch integration in a row house, children neatly seated side by side. Yet among the papers were also letters from youth care and the tax authorities, indicating family struggles and hardships.

The contents of the box remained untouched for a long time — until Jop received an invitation to a panel discussion at Dansen op de Mijnen at the Parkstad Limburg Theater in 2023. The evening focused on the future of the region, with attention to the history that preceded it. As a dance choreographer and co-founder of Kool Cult, Jop is committed to young people and hip-hop culture, but that night he didn’t recognize his own community in the audience. “There were no people of colour, of mixed heritage, or with an immigrant background. Looking at my own community, I realized that if you’re busy integrating and processing war trauma in a country that isn’t your own, thinking about your family’s future and working hard to repay your passage debt to the government, then you have no time to also consider how the city you live in should develop,” Jop reflects. “And that position still resonates in current generations.”

Between generations: silence, searching, understanding

According to him, the search for who you are and why provides access to a deeper understanding of what you want to do differently in the present and future. Jop also observes the typical differences between generations. He was the first in his family to explicitly research his own history. His father, Emile, describes it as “creating and reshaping images across generations.” The first generation of Indo-Europeans is traumatized and silent. The second generation hears little or nothing, and in that silence becomes estranged from its own history. This generation does not identify with the traumatic past but also feels disconnected from its present environment. Perhaps it is up to the third generation—people like Jop—to find the space to ask questions. “I haven’t kept things from my children. They know everything, and that was a conscious choice. I want us to be able to look together at all those images from history,” Emile states.

The highly personal research that Jop subsequently organized as part of a collaborative project with SCHUNCK reflects his vision for the city. “To contribute to improving the city, I need to understand it better — and in doing so, understand myself better,” he explains. He aims to bring nuance to overarching narratives and highlight the personal within the political. Stories often focus on the koempels, the miners, the men in the mines. Photos and illustrations depict men with coal-stained faces and lamps on their helmets, always working hard and in unison. These images primarily show white Dutch men, even though Heerlen was home to many workers of Moluccan, Moroccan, Indo, or Italian descent. Not to mention the koempels who had traveled far from home and do not appear in the well-known photographs. The image of all these predecessors working harmoniously in the mines, enduring hard labor while developing a strong work ethic, requires nuance. That idealized view obscures the immense impact of Dutch colonialism on these families and how its effects still resonate today.

The trail to Sawahlunto

The search for a more nuanced understanding of their past led Jop and Emile to the story of Emile’s grandfather, Henri Petrus Vermeesch, who around 1931 worked in the mines of Sawahlunto, a city in West Sumatra, Indonesia. “We know the stories about how miners were treated here in the Netherlands, but the daily reality of the workers in Indonesia was also devastating,” says Jop. Gradually, they discovered a connection between the family’s history in Indonesia and their later experiences in the Netherlands. Slot Schaesberg was no coincidence as the setting for this conversation, just a short distance from Pieter Breughelstraat in Meezenbroek, where Emile grew up. It is a place where memories and heritage intersect — the small entwined with the large. For Jop, it evokes images of mornings by the pond, fishing with his grandfather Gerard “Ardy” Vermeesch, rare but defining moments of silence and shared time. From their catch, they made Padang Pindang Ikan, a rich yellow fish curry from Sumatra. Emile found freedom to skate and play, a temporary escape from home life. The castle became shared ground, a place where tension dissolved in nature and fresh air. Currently, the area is being redeveloped with an eye toward new visitors: walkers, runners, and young people seeking summer evening experiences.

For the larger story, Jop traveled to Indonesia with photographers Lara Gasparotto and Jonathan Widdershoven and sound artist Gert-Jan “Stip” van Stiphout: via Jakarta, through Padang, on the way to Sawahlunto. There, it emerged that Jop’s great-grandfather had been an electrician in the Ombilin mine, a detail long hidden in the family history. Sawahlunto was entirely constructed for economic purposes, in the middle of the jungle. The railway connecting Sawahlunto to the port city of Padang was built between 1887 and 1891 and, despite the immense effort, is no longer in use. Upon arrival in Sawahlunto, Jop recognized a mining logo with a chisel and hammer at a former cultural center, featuring the traditional miner’s greeting Glückauf. He immediately associated this symbol with the Oranje-Nassau Mine in Heerlen, where it was also widely used. It raises the question: how did such symbols travel such a long distance at the end of the 19th century?

Chained people

For Jop, the connection between Heerlen and Sawahlunto - and his interest in the future of these places - was clear, but for the local community, it was less obvious. To answer the unspoken question in the locals’ gazes - “what are these tourists doing here?” - he brought a photograph: a family portrait from Sawahlunto. Jop used it as a key and asked during conversations, “Where is this?” It turned out to be the now-burned-down cultural center. The photograph gave him access to the local stories in ways that tourist offices could not, where the answers are standardized by authorities. During these conversations, he learned the term orang rantai: chained people. During Dutch colonial rule, prisoners - often political prisoners - from all over Indonesia were brought to the Ombilin mine as cheap labor. They were chained and forced to work in the most dangerous mine of the colonial period. The chains prevented escape and guided prisoners from their sleeping quarters to the mine and back.

Opened in 1892 and closed in 2002 due to declining coal reserves, the Ombilin mine was recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage site in 2019. This status highlights the mine’s innovative and efficient system, including processing and transport, unique in Southeast Asia and the first mine there with links to Europe. Yet the Ombilin mine was also the most violent and unethical of the colonial period. It exemplifies how economic interests during colonialism outweighed humanitarian concerns. Today, the Indonesian government uses the site’s heritage status to invest in the region: supporting entrepreneurs, fruit plantations, tourism, and local initiatives. In the Eastern Mining Region, the last mine closed in 1974, without heritage status or concrete memorials. Historians such as Margaret Leidelmeijer document the factual links between this region and Sawahlunto. Dutch engineers gained experience in railway construction and mining in Sumatra, knowledge later applied in South Limburg and South Africa by workers returning from the Indies.

Intangible heritage

During their joint trip to Sawahlunto, Jonathan Widdershoven captured portraits of their interlocutors, while Lara Gasparotto drew inspiration from the lush nature and sparse remnants of industrial history. In the exhibition, these images are paired with the stories Jop collected. For the curator and artists, the aim is not merely to explain connections, but to experience them. Through personal stories, they seek to counter the hardening of contemporary society.

The communities of both regions - Sawahlunto and Heerlen - demonstrate a desire to contribute to a better future. Perhaps the images from Sawahlunto provide an example of how people can support one another without waiting for official approval or recognition. In Heerlen, where physical traces of the mines are gone, intangible heritage can take center stage, Jop and Emile suggest: the personal stories present in every family. “There is a need for commemorations and celebrations that recognize multiple perspectives, so that anyone forced to leave their country of origin can see themselves reflected. Heritage isn’t just about yourself, but also about our shared history — and making those stories visible, in images and words, is crucial.”

Interview and text: Helena Julian