Footsteps (17 page)

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Authors: Pramoedya Ananta Toer

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Literary

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So on the appointed evening my wife and I attended at the Rijswijk Palace. Ibu Baldrun had dressed Mei in Javanese clothes. And I too wore Javanese clothes in accord with the invitation, which indicated that people should dress according to their race.

Before we left home, Ibu Baldrun still had time to ooh and aah as she admired my wife in her Javanese clothes, although she oohed and aahed more about the fact that Mei’s ears weren’t pierced.

All the invited guests were standing in line before the palace steps: the influential officials, residents and
assistant residents
, sultans, bupatis, directors of government departments, leading plantation administrators, the big importer-exporters, consuls…And among these leading figures were my wife and myself! Who wouldn’t have been amazed. Me—a leading figure in society!

People were summoned by name to enter the palace. Their names were then called out again by the governor-general’s adjutant. Only the foreign consuls and residents were not summoned. They were the first group to enter. The bupatis were called next. Then finally came the one I had been waiting for—my father. He left the bupatis group, and walked confidently and lightly as if walking on a cloud. There was a slit at the back of his shirt so that his bejeweled
keris
could be displayed. His left hand held the tip of the beautiful batik that he wore as a sarong. At his waist his diamond-studded keris challenged the other bupatis. And his belt shone with the brilliance of nine kinds of precious stones. He strode along, his last step falling exactly at the end of the path. Then he ascended the stairs into the palace with eyes fixed on the reception area inside.

“My father,” I whispered to Mei.

“What should I do if we meet?”

“Let’s hope we don’t meet.”

“That’s not the right attitude.”

“I don’t like patriarchs, no matter who they are.”

“But he’s your father.”

“You have never had a father, Mei.”

Then came the summons for myself and my wife, and I too ascended the stairs, the youngest of those invited, with a narrow-eyed wife with alabaster skin dressed in formal black, who quickly became the center of attention. Who would have guessed that she had entered the Indies illegally!

There were important men and women all about us, all dressed in black. The women carried fans made from sandalwood and peacock feathers or of Japanese paper with drawings in silver or gold ink, and wore silver jewelry, and silk. Everything was gleaming, including my wife. And even the room itself was brilliant, more brilliant than daylight. It was lit with electric chandeliers. Even the shadows could not find a place. And the air was thick with scents from around the world, especially Paris. The women were wearing all their best jewelry, made all the more gleaming for being on black backgrounds.

In the midst of this hubbub of the Indies elite, there was one person whose glances shot about restlessly—father. He wouldn’t dare leave his group—the bupatis. But this night the name of his son had been called out among the guests. He wanted to check for himself; he wanted to make sure there was nothing wrong
with his hearing. The son in whom he was so disappointed had been honored with an invitation just like himself and was now here among the rulers.

He would never understand. Neither did I.

Before we left home, I had said to my wife: “We will be entering the den of wild animals.”

When I told her that we had received this invitation from the heavens, she laughed: “To attend a reception for a person who has instituted permanent humiliation upon your people,” she said. “There’s no harm in it. Let’s have a look.”

And now we were in the wild beasts’ cave. All these here in their formal dress were members of the wild animals’ pack. We were just observers, witnesses.

“Have you ever been to a reception like this?”

She shook her head. She looked so beautiful, like a flower in bloom. I was proud to see so many eyes turn in her direction. And it seemed that she was used to being stared at by men. She didn’t feel awkward; neither did she flaunt herself.

There’s no need to retell the details of all the formalities. It was just the usual speeches, shaking of hands, toasts, taking of official photographs, drinking of liquor, laughter, and competitive display of riches.

But one thing did happen that was out of the ordinary. When I shook hands with the governor-general, he remembered me.

“Ah, Mr. Minke,” he said, as if he wasn’t the highest official in the land, as if he wasn’t the representative of Her Majesty. “You look very handsome with your mustache, sir. It’s a pity we haven’t had a chance to meet again. You have no objections, do you, to our getting together to have a bit of a chat now and again?”

“Of course not, Your Excellency,” I answered. “And this is my wife.”

He had already put out his hand.

“You have shown great ability in choosing a wife, sir. Congratulations.”

“Congratulations on your appointment, Your Excellency,” Mei said in English.

“Thank you. Thank you.”

Such a long conversation had held up the queue behind us. And I could also see my father standing a little away across in front of us, examining us closely. Perhaps he will be angry with Mei and me for not bowing down before this governor-general,
general and victor in the Aceh War. Why, we even dared smile as if he were an old friend.

After the formalities were over, the guests moved about as they wished. Father would now have his chance to look for us.

We sat near a big pillar that had the Dutch flag wrapped round it. Mei was watching what was happening about her. We had no acquaintances among all these big shots. We hadn’t yet joined this pack of wild beasts. And then what I had been fearing happened—my father found us.

I greeted him with a deep bow. He seemed to like that.

“And this is my wife, Father’s daughter-in-law,” I introduced Mei.

My wife also bowed reverently before him.

“And why haven’t you visited Mother in B—–?” he asked Mei.

“I just follow what my husband says,” I translated.

“What language is that, son?”

“English, Father.”

“God Almighty! A daughter-in-law who speaks English!” and to me: “You’ve got a strange way of choosing a woman.”

After the reception was over, we went by carriage to his hotel, Hotel Des Indes. He was very friendly and asked many questions of my wife. He ordered someone to take us home and asked that we come back the next morning. He promised to send a carriage. He didn’t try to lord it over me. It was as if he had never behaved in the past the way he had, as if the past had not left its wounds within me.

And I knew it was all because I had received an invitation from the governor-general’s office.

Only Mei went back the next day. That afternoon, when I was working at the auction paper office, I tried to imagine the two of them sitting across from one another, unable to speak one with the other. They probably spent their time just oohing and aahing, shaking their heads and grinning. Or would Father think to hire a hotel translator? He probably would never think of doing anything like that.

But when I got back to Ibu Baldrun’s, it was something different that I found. Father, dressed in an ordinary suit, was waiting. Ibu Baldrun was busy preparing a meal for a bupati—she was cutting up three chickens! Mei was entertaining father. She was wearing far too much jewelry. No doubt Father had
bought it for her at the hotel. And it wasn’t just any jewelry! Ai! how the Javanese aristocrat likes to show off when he gives gifts. Never caring if it will take him years to pay it all off later, or that it will be repaid only with great difficulty. The main thing is to defend one’s prestige.

Father greeted me as if I were also a bupati. He didn’t demand I crawl along the floor. We all sat on the same divan. He was extraordinarily friendly. Perhaps he was proud that he had a son and daughter-in-law who had received an invitation from the governor-general. He’ll be telling that story everywhere. My son’s not even a bupati and he has already been honored with such an invitation! He and van Heutsz chatted and laughed together! None of his children-in-law nor any of his other children had ever received such an honor.

Now he didn’t feel humiliated to be sitting at the same level as his son and daughter-in-law. And it was Mei who was the first to be honored in that way. It was the first time Father did not feel cheated not to receive obeisance. Perhaps he already understood—in his grandchildren’s time, in the future, making obeisance would disappear from the face of the earth. Only those with a slave mentality would still be doing it.

He asked about Mei’s antecedents.

“She is a person who was born into this world without ever knowing her father or mother.” He listened as if he was capturing some kind of secret knowledge. “She was brought up in an orphanage in Shanghai, and graduated from teachers’ college. Then she came to the Indies to find me.”

“So you have been in contact with each other through correspondence.”

“That is the case, Father.”

“It seems that the search for a mate no longer bothers about crossing land and sea. It’s only crossing different ages that is not possible,” he said. And to my wife: “When will you come to B—–? I and your mother will put on the biggest wedding party ever for you both.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Father.”

“You don’t regret not having a celebration?”

“It’s not a matter of having regrets, Father. It’s just that our situation doesn’t permit us to go to B—–I’m too busy with my studies and my work, and so too is my wife. She doesn’t want to leave her pupils.”

“You both work! Why should a woman work when she already has a husband? Is the husband worth so little that the wife must also go out and struggle?”

Now the trouble would start. We didn’t answer.

“Only among peasants and in the villages, that’s the only place where you find both working. Or among the peddlers and small traders. And peasants and peddlers do not receive invitations from His Excellency, the governor-general. You two do not properly appreciate the honor.”

Seeing a somewhat unfavorable situation emerging, Mei retired to the kitchen. And so this patriarch now had his chance to once more become my king.

“My wife has been offended by Father’s words,” I threatened.

And I could see that he was trying to keep himself under control. He was reflecting. He adjusted his destar and whispered: “That’s the trouble with taking a wife who is not Javanese.”

“I have also been offended.”

“You!”

His eyes moved around everywhere. But there was nothing and nobody to help him. He was a foreigner in this place.

“Perhaps that’s why you two didn’t tell anybody about your marriage?”

“We married for our own sake,” I said curtly. “As for whether good or bad comes from it, we also assume responsibility for that. We do not interfere in others’ affairs, nor do we want anyone to interfere in ours.”

He had to work harder and harder to control his fury. He no longer radiated the same friendliness as he had earlier. And when he saw that I wasn’t going to speak anymore, he began, with great deliberateness: “If that’s what you want, very well, it is what you want. Your parents can only pray for your well-being, your happiness, your safety. We can do no more than that.”

Dinner passed in silence. There was no more conversation. Father returned to his hotel, his feelings kept to himself. And that was the first time I refused to acknowledge his authority.

But this wasn’t the only important thing to happen in 1904.

The appointment of van Heutsz as governor-general gave rise to many fears among those pockets of the Indies archipelago that had so far been able to retain their independence. War would find its way into all those areas—that was not difficult to predict. Even
early on after van Heutsz’s appointment, many of the inhabitants of these areas fled into the areas under the control of the Netherlands Indies. None of them wanted to have to defend their homelands, still free and independent, in the face of rifle and cannon.

Van Heutsz and the whole Indies ruling class understood how these free states feared the rifle and cannon of the Netherlands Indies. The general deliberately postponed taking any military action against them. And this was not because the cannon belonging to the free states numbered more than seventy. On the contrary, his strategy was to exhibit mercy and compassion. He banned the practice of the burning of widows at their husband’s funerals that was then prevalent in Bali. No longer would women be fated to become ashes as they joined their husband’s soul. And he was praised to the heavens, especially by his fellow Europeans. The government also went out of its way to be seen to be abolishing slavery in the areas it controlled.

The whispering and rumors and other unclearly sourced talk all said these actions were meant to be a cover for bloody military actions that were being planned. People waited, certain there would be war. It wasn’t for nothing, people said, that a general was made governor-general, the highest official in the Netherlands Indies, the representatives of the Royal Netherlands Crown. Look, they said, even the flea-sized republics of the Transvaal and Orange Free State in South Africa were gobbled up by the British. Do you think the Dutch won’t do the same here?

But none of this happened. The threat from Japan and Russia was a greater worry for the Netherlands Indies. The Germans, French, English, Russians, and Japanese were all eyeing the coal station on the Indies island of Sabang. And some people started saying that van Heutsz would not start anything in the Indies while the cannons of Europe’s navies could set the Indies on fire at any time. People called this Sabang politics. This was why a general was made governor-general. The coal station at Sabang was a big source of foreign exchange for the Indies, but it must not become the reason for the destruction of the whole Indies.

There was no military action from van Heutsz. But there was something else: the implementation of one of the policies from the platform the Liberal Movement had been campaigning for—the Ethical Policy, Emigration.

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