Hizir Cengiz spoke to residents of The Hague from all parts of the city about freedom during Soep Praat 2024 (our freedom soup restaurant on wheels). Hizir also recited his poem during the largest Hague Freedom Meal last year in the Grote Kerk.

when I prepared cold noodles for my sweetheart last night
when I cycled alone on the Pieterpad
when I left Hungary and thus my fatherland and mother and thus my guardian and the sick voice in her sick head
when I was at the beach, then swimming, then forest, then between the hills in Limburg, with only a packed lunch in my backpack, looking at the sun, so nothing, so everything, so peace
when I turned my hobby into my job, fully booked until June, as a violinist
when a friend said: with you I can be myself
quand je voyage seule je me sens libre
when I was in Colombia, when I came back from Uganda, a week after the anti-gay law, when I made music for half an hour in Delft with an unknown pianist — gosh, the language of strings, keys and air
when I was released after prison in Nieuwegein, Utrecht, Den Bosch, Lelystad, also Scheveningen, also Drenthe
when I was at Taylor Swift's concert and even more when I dressed up at a fantasy festival
when I almost had to pee my pants in the theater benches
when I, when I always, when I nothing, when I thoughtless, when I empty, when I fully, when I no answer, when I 'no' and boundaries in other concepts, when I was in the Netherlands at all
never here, that freedom is yet to come in God's Kingdom, with Jesus' reign
when I taught my three daughters to choose for themselves, to turn against everything and everyone, even me – as long as they want
when my youngest was born and we could finally escape my husband, after a year with the curtains closed, black and blue in the dark
when i left a refugee camp with my passport; i did
when I just blessed, because chickens and pigs get too little space, no sunlight, almost never play
when I could only share what I was going through in prayer and with Allah without limits; as if He didn't know
when I could still hold my Bas' hand, until exactly seven years ago, while we danced, every dance, or not
when I had a coke and fries with, after months in intensive care
when I first retired, without rushing and rushing and rushing, and with hot soup from Nick Toet