Footsteps (33 page)

Like the Native rulers he himself had criticized.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I’m trying to understand, sir.”

“Ah, you are too intelligent not to understand,” he laughed good-humoredly. “But I have to say that I am truly grateful for the help you have given us through the publication of
Medan.
Why do you seem surprised? No need, sir. I am sure we can be friends. Don’t you agree?”

“Of course, sir. Why not?”

He stood up and held out his hand. As a sign of friendship. I also stood and shook hands with him. What was the purpose of this ceremony anyway? A governor-general wants to be the friend of a powerless Native? My mother’s words came back to warn me—watch out! And Ter Haar’s voice echoed within me too—you are now in the wild beast’s lair. Be careful. You may unexpectedly meet death itself, gentle or brutal, perhaps in the form of the caresses of friendship, like now. It would mean the same thing—death. Killers had only one thought—to kill those who did not support them.

“Every day you advance further, Mr. Minke. With more and more influence in society, among the priyayi, the merchants, the businessmen. I have already expressed my thanks to you publicly, haven’t I? Now I want to suggest to you that you be careful. It is not so hard to be careful. Everyone can. As a person with influence, you should be careful in the way you use it.”

“Thank you, sir, but I truly don’t feel I have any influence over anyone.”

“Nah, it’s strange if you don’t understand your own power. That is where the danger lies. You might make a mistake and use that influence wrongly.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll remember what you have said.”

“And what are your plans for the immediate future?”

And I became very nervous when I remembered what I had just asked Sandiman to do.

“I don’t understand your question, sir.”

“You must have some bigger plans.”

“If this is what you mean, and if the government has no objections, I will be starting a daily newspaper.”

“Excellent!” He laughed happily. “It’s not unexpected. You’ve had great success with your weekly. I’m sure you’ll have even greater success with your daily.”

“I hope that will be the case, sir.”

“Good. Perhaps you will not believe me, but I set aside time especially to read your writings, both those in Dutch and those in Malay. You don’t think you could write in simpler Malay, do you?”

“Thank you, sir. Then perhaps you could give me some comments on my work?”

“I’ve told you what I think. If I praise your magazine over and over again, isn’t that a form of comment? You are the pioneer of Native publishing. You have experience. You won’t find it so hard to start up the first Native daily. Tell me, do you need any help?”

“Thank you, sir, but no.”

“In short, you can rest assured that the government will continue its policies to advance the Native peoples—emigration, irrigation, and education. What happens next will depend on the government’s next decisions. You know, it’s an out-of-date idea, the idea of fighting the government. An idea that always leads to disaster. It’s impossible to win. One million ignorant people cannot drive or move along a train, sir. But one modern human being can do it.”

For how long was I going to be lectured by this governor-general?

“I can understand and accept all of this, sir.”

“In the villages you will see the village crier with his cymbals
shouting out the news. Now all we need is a newspaper. The news no longer need seek out listeners along the streets. It arrives without fanfare in your house.”

“Yes, sir.”

“All you need to do is write a little commentary and within hours, thousands, tens of thousands of people have been filled with whatever you want. This is all possible only because of modern science and learning.…”

“And organization, sir.”

“Yes, the organization of work. You are the most advanced of the educated Natives. You stand in the front line, listened to and copied by others. You no doubt understand your position. Your influence will help determine the progress of your people in the coming years. What do you need to start up your new paper?”

“I’m in the process of working that out, sir.”

“What about finances?”

“I’ll work that out later, sir.”

Van Heutsz gave a friendly laugh.

“It seems you’re very sharp. The others seem to be concerned first with getting the money, and only then work out exactly what they want to do. If you need capital the government would be happy to help, with all or part.”

“A thousand thanks, sir.”

I could hear Mama’s whispering: They will make you their propagandist and you will do it voluntarily. He will use your influence, and you’ll work for them without payment. Be careful. Make sure your abilities, influence, and experience don’t end up serving other ends.

“How is the Sarekat Priyayi?”

“Not as it should be, sir.”

“Every beginning is difficult. But once you’ve started, half the job is done, says a proverb. No doubt you have come up against the problem of the conservatism of the priyayi, who are only concerned to protect their jobs. Their ambitions go no further than their promotion. You will just have to work harder. What do you think of Multatuli’s writings? Outstanding, don’t you think?”

“Yes, we can say at least that he has a unique way of looking at things, a unique style.”

“And you like his works, yes? I don’t think anyone can truly understand the Indies without having read Multatuli. And if you
don’t understand the Indies, then you don’t know what it is you have to do for the Indies. In the past many people criticized and ridiculed his works. They were backward colonials. He understood the Indies and the Netherlands of his time. He understood the spirit of the times. But, Mr. Minke, the Indies has changed since the time of Multatuli. As has the Netherlands itself.”

His two-hour lecture soon passed except for the exhaustion of having to listen. And, of course, every important person needs a listener. All the powerful are the same. It’s when they start talking that they feel greatness, and even more so when they’re not listening to others.

“Times have changed, and so has the colonial outlook. Today’s colonial outlook recognizes the need to help the Natives to progress. And it’s also right and proper that this advantage should not be denied the smaller principalities whose people are oppressed and kept ignorant by their own rulers. The Indies were once united by Majapahit. Then they fell apart again. Now the government is able to unify the Indies again. More concretely, over a wider area, and with greater stability. And under the protection of a legal system that protects the Natives and their property.”

“Who is not convinced that Your Excellency is succeeding and will succeed even further?”

“Thank you, Mr. Minke. But it is not the governor-general who is doing this. It is the times themselves. These are different comments from those you made the other day at the interview, Mr. Minke.”

“It was a matter of whose point of view I was looking at things from.”

“So where were you looking at things from then? From the point of view of the principalities?”

“More-or-less, sir.”

He laughed again.

“You’re staying at a hotel?”

“Of course, sir.”

“You should move to Buitenzorg.”

“Do you think that’s necessary, sir?”

“Ah, just a suggestion. So it’s easier to see you.”

This wild beast had now invited me to move closer to his lair. So it would be easier for me to come in and out of his lair. So I could join in his depravation? Or was I to be his prey? Or, a third possibility, he wanted me to be a witness to his success.
And I answered as Ter Haar would have, but silently of course. I have never needed to make others my victims, Meneer General, Meneer Governor-General, and I have no desire either to be turned into a wild beast.

The colonial press was overtaken by a wave of incredible jealousy because of van Heutsz’s meeting with me. They refused to publish my articles in any of their publications. The European printing firms would not touch me. And there was an ex-convict mixed up in all this—Robert Suurhof.

There was no other way. We must publish our own daily.

Good-bye, colonial press!

M
ama was able to come to an understanding with Mr. Frischboten. He would open a practice in Java, while also helping our paper. His retainer would be paid by Mama’s business in the Netherlands. Later he agreed to be paid in Java from the earnings of our publishing enterprise.

One day Mir and her husband arrived at my house in Buitenzorg. They had not told me when they were arriving in Batavia. And now there they were standing at the front door.

Mir was wearing a silk dress decorated with pink flowers. Her skin was whiter than I remembered. Her cheeks were red. She now wore her hair tied in a bun with a red ribbon, not loose and flowing like before.

“I’m so happy to be back in the Indies.” She held out her hand. “And most of all to see you again. This is my husband.”

“Welcome. Lawyer Frischboten? Welcome. Welcome. Please sit down.”

“I’m also happy to be back in the Indies.” Her husband spoke in a deep, sonorous voice.

We relaxed immediately and I felt as if I were talking to old friends.

“Where’s your wife?” asked Mir.

“I have no wife, Mir.”

The two of us launched into a hectic discussion of times past and Hendrik Frischboten sat there watching us without wanting to interfere. I found out then that Mir’s sister had married a Canadian and had moved with him to Canada. Her father had gone to French Guyana to become a plantation administrator. European birds, they flew wherever their hearts took them. Wherever they landed they found themselves masters.

“You were born in Priangan, I hear?” I asked Hendrik.

Lazily he indicated an answer of yes. And he did look a lazy man. His body was covered in folds of fat. His face was round. His round cheeks hung down like those of an old man. And contrasting with all this was his very pointed chin. There were lines also going from the ends of his mouth down to either side of his chin. An Indo, he had the black eyes of a Native with eyelids that didn’t seem to want to open all the way.

Oh no, I thought, he’s a lazy one. Mama may have made the wrong choice.

“It’s a pity you didn’t let me know when you were coming. We haven’t got a house for you yet. If you don’t mind, why don’t you stay here until we find a house for you? And also…”

And I told them that our paper would soon be ready to be published. It would be printed at No. 1 Naripan Street, Bandung.

“I have family in Bandung. That’s even better for us. We have a house there,” said Hendrik.

“No shop talk,” forbade Mir. “We didn’t come to see you for that.”

“Anyway, you two will stay here for the time being, yes?”

“That sounds like a good idea. Hendrik, you don’t have any objections, do you? So we can have a bit of a holiday first.”

“No objections whatsoever,” he answered lazily, “as long as it’s no trouble.”

As he spoke I asked myself how such a pretty and energetic girl as Mir could end up with such a sluggish man for a husband.

They would stay in Buitenzorg until things were ready in Bandung. That afternoon, while I was out, summoned to an audience with the governor-general, they returned with their things. It wasn’t much, two suitcases and a box of books. When I arrived back from the palace, which was only some sixty yards away, I
found Mir sitting by herself under the pendopo. Hendrik Frischboten was off having a walk somewhere.

She seemed very pleased to see me. She wouldn’t let me go in to change clothes.

“You seem so alone here. Why don’t you get married?”

“There’s a time for that, Mir. Why do you always ask about that?”

She looked at me without blinking, then: “I wish my husband could grow a mustache like yours.”

“You’ve changed, Mir. Do you remember when we had that talk about gamelan? About gongs?”

“I remember. That’s all in the past now. After listening to Madame Marais…ah, what a woman…all that talk about the Theory of Association, about gamelan, it was all garbage, it was all mixed-up nonsense. I’m so glad to be able to meet you now that you are so important. Even the governor-general wants you for a friend. Who would have ever guessed?”

“What are you talking about?”

“A Native woman. That Mama of yours was able to convince my husband to work for you. My husband, a lawyer, was able to be won over by her proposals! You have been so lucky, Minke.” She was lost in thought for a moment. Then she quickly continued: “She has had such success in her business despite all the misfortunes that have befallen her. And it’s no penny-ante affair that she runs either!”

As interesting as all this talk about Mama, about her husband, and about me was, I felt that there was something strange here. As she went on, more and more of her sentences became unconnected, her thoughts seemed to wander. She seemed to have lost her concentration. There was some unresolved problem troubling her within.

She went on to something else again: “It’s strange how the world turns things upside down,” she said, seeming to be thinking hard about something. “Before, when we met, I was the senior and you the junior. Now we meet in another place like this and you are my employer, our employer.”

“We are not employer and employee, Mir. We are working together.”

“It’s the same, Minke, only the name differs.”

“You regret your decision?”

“No. I’m glad to have returned to the Indies. And all the
more happy to see you turn out as I had hoped, surpassing all my expectations. You have flown up into the highest layers of heaven, by yourself, without the aid of anyone. So inspiring.”

“You’re wrong, Mir. I have had a lot of help. So many good people have helped me, including you, and now both you and your husband. No, nobody can grow and develop without the help of others.”

She gazed at me with eyes that pleaded for my eyes not to leave hers. Mir was indeed no longer the girl I once knew. She was someone’s wife, who was dreaming of other things.