The Five Fraternities: An Investigative Report into the Exclusive Dutch Societies. Part 3 – Borrels & Lustrums

We sent our boy, our man, our very own Gonzo journalist, David Van Der Linde to investigate the most mysterious sect of youth society in our fair city: Dutch Frats. This is the final instalment of a three part report. 

I was stationed back in Delft preparing to infiltrate a frat borrel, slicking my hair back with hard gel, drenching myself in cheap but expensive smelling cologne, carefully ironing my bleach-white button up shirt. M looked at me with a facial expression that looked convinced, but could only barely hold a laugh in. I didn’t blame him, I was the epitome of a kakker (a derogatory term referring to a posh individual.) As we finished setting up it was time to put on our squeaky leather shoes and start the trek to our objective, the frat bar. At this point I was so consumed in this operation I started to lose sight of who I actually was. For once I was not nervous but almost comfortable with the situation I was about to enter. This thought bothered me and it started to linger, I suddenly had to snap out of it as M interrupted my thought.

         “Oi! David… We’re here.”

I could see a horde of frat boys and girls all with a beer in one hand, all wearing either white button up tops or black suits, all only socialising without any background music. M and I glanced at each other, indicating we were ready. We then entered the 18th century looking tavern.

I thought I would be welcomed by a vaasje or a shot of jenever. Instead, The Officer – A selected individual that ensures everyone in the bar is following the rules and acting orderly - presented himself to us and started to interrogate me.

         “Who are you? I know M, but not you. First time here?”

It was the first time that I was singled out in this operation, I started to sweat but in the most Kakker way I replied.

“ERRRR, I am an old child friend of Michael. We have not seen each other in a while and he told me about this borrel. What are your rules?”

The Officer raised his right eyebrow and placed his hand on his chin. I might have come out too strong and given my position away.

         “Which frat organisation are you apart of?” He questioned.

         “MNNRVA” I replied confidently.

He stood and stared at me for a bit longer, then smiled.

“My father went to that one, it is a big one from what I have heard.” He said pridefully.

“It is indeed one of the biggest, I honestly had to go through a lot just to get to where I am now.” I lied.

         “Didn’t we all.” He replied and subtly referring to the initial phases of hazing.

As The Officer opened up, he took out a helmet from behind the bar and plopped it on my head and demanded.

“First timers have to wear a helmet at all times. If it somehow falls off or gets knocked off. You HAVE to get yourself a shot of jenever! Also NO phone, and NO smoking out the front. You fail to comply, I will personally escort you out. We clear?”

I nodded my head in agreement, the helmet loose on my head. M and I then proceeded to continue with our operation.

As I walked around the bar I started to hear the word Lustrum. It would pop up subtly behind my ears, as I was busy eavesdropping into a conversation that was about to give me evidence and information about this. A fratboy intentionally knocked my helmet off my head.

“HA! Shot of jenever klootzak!” He loudly said, while snapping at the bartender to bring a jenever for me.

He placed the large shot in front of my face. I looked at it and without any hesitation took the shot. The frat was amused and gave me a respectful pat on the back. I thought this would be the only time this would happen.

Unfortunately this kept on happening throughout the night. I was busy chugging shots instead of collecting information. There was a moment where I could feel that I was deep into the shots and decided to go out for a smoke. So I left the bar, stood out front and lit my camel blue cigarette. Only to be disrupted by another frat who called me out for breaking a rule. Mind you at this point I was piss drunk and I started to protest against the rule.

         “What’s the point of this rule?!” I said in a raising voice.

The frat just looked at me and called The Officer out. That’s when I knew I really blew it. Once The Officer came out he looked at me in disappointment and simply said.

“You are not allowed back in, good night.” While closing the bar door in front of my face.

In pure embarrassment, I decided to head towards the Delft station to go back to my headquarters in Amsterdam without even bidding farewell to M. I realised I failed, and that this time round the operation is over.

After weeks of quietness, trying to find a new case to keep my mind busy I was only coming to dead ends. I started to question whether I am the gonzo investigator that I thought I was. It was a spiral of despair and regret. A spiral of depression, a spiral that only failures know all too well.

But in every good investigative story there is a moment that brings the protagonist out of this spiral. That moment for me was a text message from an old informant. DJ Envelope and I became acquainted during the COVID-Era. He was a fully tatted French man that grew up in Enschede and had a dark past that always lingered him. For once, he wasn’t texting me to get on a dirty sesh, but he heard from the streets that I was trying to infiltrate these frats. He was asked to DJ for the Amsterdam Corp’s Lustrum final event. There it was again, the word Lustrum. I was not too familiar with this concept so I asked DJ Envelope what exactly it was. He spilled it out like a can of beans that have been dropped from the kitchen cupboard.

“Lustrum is an event that each fraternity throws every 5 years. It essentially is a week of drinking and debauchery.”

He then proposed.

         “How about you jump in as my groupie?”

This idea was brilliant and it was the final step to really finding out what these frats are all about. So my cover went back on and I was ready to finally end this operation.

DJ Envelope told me to meet him at the NDSM Ferry Pier by 12 am. I biked to Centraal Station and took the ferry to Noord. I finally met up with DJ Envelope and got acquainted with his other groupies. We slowly walked into the big halls around NDSM, and once we got to the backstage area you could finally hear the Lustrum. Dutch Afrobeats supported by hype man blasting through the same sound systems that were used during ADE. Everyone wearing chic clothing, and lots of beer on the ground, in the toilets, and in the stomachs of all the frat girls and boys. I spoke to some other frats that were around us in backstage, and found out that these guys came all the way from Groningen just to be a part of this Lustrum. It was one big Frat Convention.

Just when I thought I had enough, DJ Envelope was asked by the organisers to come onto the stage. I decided to join and when I jumped onto the stage - HOLY. SHIT. I saw probably around a thousand of these frats bumping up and down to music. Although they looked young you could see that the week of drinking was starting to take an effect on their liver. It was as if their white t-shirts accentuated their yellowish skin from the gall that has poisoned their blood. I was in the belly of the beast.

As I acted as a wannabe hypeman for DJ Envelope, I came to realise that the Frats were no different to anyone really. We all choose ours friends carefully, and although we don’t haze them, we all go through some sort of filtration process to weed out the fake ones. We all have hierarchies among our friends to a certain extent. Lastly, we all like to drink alcohol.

From this investigative report I found that although the frat culture has a certain demeanour that may be off-putting to most. It is no different to any other type of friend group.. The only difference between a normal friend group to a frat group is that they are more straightforward with people, whilst we just slowly ghost the people we do not fuck with.

So, which one is better?