Old drawing of three men playing cards around a table.

“Are you still not satisfied with the bottle of wine I gave you?”

As I began yet another year in my history bachelor at Radboud University I still had to pass my last elective seminar. Thus far, my experience with them had been quite eclectic: from exploring minorities in the medieval Mediterranean and mapping out historical debates surrounding demonic powers during the Renaissance, to analyzing migration patterns in contemporary Europe. I had loaded my sampling dish full by enrolling in courses as they were announced, trying to satisfy my deep sense of curiosity. When I joined Dries Lyna’s seminar Cape Town: From East to West on an experimental whim, I did not expect to feel attached to a small tip on the African continent. Though rich with history, the location seemed limited in my young academic mind, and I feared stumbling in the steps of past research with no new insight of my own.

As our classes unfolded, however, my impression of the Cape grew with them; not only did my interest in the subject deepened—the various groups vying for a space of their own, the cruelty and spurious glory of the VOC—but I was impressed by the way Dries taught us students. We were urged to dig tunnels through the small colony of the Cape like ants; burrowing for knowledge, experimenting with what we knew and applying it to what we did not. He set us free to explore those exiled, the men of poor descent powering the VOC’s never-ending exploits, women and children and their uncertain status as widows and orphans, plagues and periods of hardship spanning the countryside, and the ruling class with the enslaved who slept under the beds of their employers and masters. 

During Dries’ lectures I was drawn to the lives of sailors and soldiers and the experiences they shared on the Company’s ships and in the boundaries of the Cape itself. Much of the previous research I found was focused on the bad blood between the young men and their unwillingness to share experiences outside of pure necessity. I argued that was not the case as both their choice of entertainment, their poor background and their urge for contact connected them more than once. I will further refine my answer through the help of the Economies of Trust team, and their expertise. I hope that my research will serve as a mirror to the exploration of permanent residents on the project, adding yet another layer of diversity.

Additionally, I will be serving as the project’s temporary website manager and jack of all trades—helping where I am needed and making sure that the background processes of outreach flow smoothly. My hope is that I will not only contribute to the team, but I will also learn about the inner workings of a research project such as the Economies of Trust. As was already mentioned by Yannis in his A Historian's Journey: From Family Stories to Histories of Trust history is not a solitary activity, and with such a strong team of researchers, it will be a pleasure to further highlight the formation of social support networks in the colonial Dutch empire.

Old drawing of three men playing cards around a table.

Information about the image

  • Title: Card Night at Lochner’s
  • Artist: Jan Brandes
  • Date: 1787
  • Location: Cape of Good Hope
  • Description: Black-and-white drawing of three men gathered round a table with a candlestick by a fireside. With inscription. Part of Jan Brandes’ sketchbook, vol. 2 (1808), p. 51.
Petya Nikolova

Written by

Petya Nikolova

Petya Nikolova is a Bachelor’s student in Comparative European History. As an intern with the Economies of Trust team, they are researching how sailors and soldiers in the Cape Colony forged bonds based on their shared background, experiences, and social activities. They are also responsible for the project’s external communications.