Ter gelegenheid van alternatieve Allerzielenvieringen staat Soete in oktober en november weer tussen de lichtjes in het donker om mensen te vragen wie ze herdenken. Ze luistert, ze maakt grapjes, ze schudt handen en soms geeft ze een kusje.

29 oktober Levende Namen, Algemene Begraafplaats Lochem

1 november Namen Blijven, Eksternest Almere-Haven

8 november Levende Namen, Amerpoort



This is me (43) and son (11) testing the camera:

mom and sonThe two of us live in Amsterdam, in the Netherlands, a small country beneath sea level. The Netherlands count 16.696.000 inhabitants. In 2012 there were 496 inhabitants per square kilometer. Amsterdam has 802.000 citizens, 23.000 registered dogs and 881.000 bicycles.

In our house we are surrounded by neighbors, who’s conversations we can follow trough ceilings and walls. We have a wonderful view, but no garden nor balcony. With the years, my urge for walking, eating and sleeping outdoors grows.
our street

Hiking and camping is my natural prozac. Son doesn’t love hiking and camping the way I do. I tried to bribe him with an axe and the promise of building fires.

But when he gets the chance to spending several days with real men, such as my oncle and cousin, I can do what I love best properly. Five days of total freedom.

What shall I pick? Tent, bivvy or hammock? Inspired by Alastairs Humphreys blog I find myself suddenly thinking in terms of ‘challenge’.


I decide to trust the weatherforecast en choose the sausage. This will be my challenge. Hiking all day and spending the nights in a hammock, possibly in the wild. Not so crowded Drenthe counts many trees. Drenthe will be my place to be.

Drenthe landscape

The first night is inviting. The so called ‘natuurcamping’ (camping in the nature) looks abandoned. The toilets are locked, the welcomeboard is covered with moss. I walk into the woods and prepare for the night. When peeing, a whole family of squirllooking animals approach my camp. With my trousers on my ankles I watch them chase each other elegantly. That must be pine marten, I think. Even in this regulated country wilderness starts where the fences end. The thought makes me smile.

Once in my hammock, I hear something stamp around me. It is pretty dark by now. My cousin, who is a professional survivor warned me for humans. ‘Humans,’ he said, ‘are the only real danger.’

Humans have big feet, they are rather clumsy, they would break twines, when stamping around. This must be something with hoofs, a deer or so. I decide I am safe, hanging there, and fall asleep.

first nightFor the second night I find a perfect spot at the edge of the heath. I could easily lie on the ground. Nobody would see me.

shall I sleep here 1

The view is great. It is half past five. I eat some noodles, I finish reading my book, I go for a stroll, I sit and wait for the hours to pass by.

heiJust before eight I get utterly bored. So far for the perfect spot. I can’t stay any longer. I may have two more hours before getting dark, I need to do something and move. I get my backpack and start walking. After a while I get at another heath, a small one. At the gate there is a warning: ‘Sheep with ram. Enter at own risk.’ I enter anyway and walk carefully around the sheep.

On one side there is another fence, with a donkey, and a women feeding it. I cross the field and sit in the grass for a while. I curse myself for my preference of the color red. Both my sleeping bag and my backpack have this alarming color. I am pretty sure people passing by, can see me. I get up and continue my walk. Where to sleep tonight?

where to sleepHere?

shall I sleep here


darkIt is dark, with prickly plants and thorns. Nobody will enter this bush at night. I bet rapists and murderers don’t like prickly plants and thorns. I should be unseen and safe. But boy, it is dark here. Safe but scary. I can’t help myself walking to the edge and hanging my hammock where the view is and a bit of light.

second nightThe night is tough. It is cold. The hammock makes me lie in there like a banana. I miss sleeping on my stomach. I toss and turn. I keep thinking of what the man where I bought my haring that day said: ‘all by yourself? A fine women like you? Well, you know what they say: a women will always be quicker running with her skirts up, than a guy with his trousers down.’

At 5:30 I decide it is enough. I treat myself on clean underpants and pack my stuff. At the bakery in the nearest village I read an old newspaper. The police had been looking for men, hiding in the bushes, hiding in the exact bushes where I hanged my hammock. krantenbericht

The next night will be on a camping for sure. With hot showers, and coffee, and other people. hammock camping

At the camping, the only excitement is whether the clouds include a wet night. I am lucky. The only wetness I feel are birds droppings. I sleep like a rose, surrounded by campers. In the morning there is coffee for everybody. I watch the camping guests chit chat and laugh. I think of my hometown, my house, my bed.

Going back to the city does not seem so bad any more. Frankly I long for going home, I long for doing the laundry and sleeping flat on my stomach in my own bed, and seeing friends and making preparations for the next few days of freedom. For trips like this are my natural prozac.

2013 ©Anouk Hubatka


A: Mijn petemoei is een held. Met kerst brak een man bij haar en haar vriend in. De man bedreigde haar vriend. Petemoei stortte zich brullend op de inbreker. Zij was naakt. Hij… hij had een mes. Ze kreeg zes steken in haar borst. Ik bezocht haar op de intensive care. Ze zat aan allemaal slangen op een po-stoel.

(Stapt op popje af. Gaat er naast zitten.)

A: Dag petemoei. Hoe gaat het met je?

P: Ik… ik… het wil niet (kreunt en bibbert)

A: Heb je veel pijn?

P: Ik moet poepen. Het wil niet.

A: Wil je dat ik wegga? Zal ik later terugkomen.

P: Nee. Ik wil dat je blijft. En dat je terugkomt.


Korte film van Sjors Vervoort.

Poppenspelers: Anouk Hubatka, Babiche Ronday, Sibel Sahin



Levende Namen 2012

‘Hallo, ik ben Soete… herdenkt u iemand?’