Footsteps (50 page)

“Why don’t you take on that task yourself, so we know the finances will be secure and handled effectively?”

“Good, I will look after them myself.”

And so it was that the Sarekat Dagang Ismalijah (Islamic Traders’ Union) or SDI was founded, with a Constitution written in Malay with Dutch and Sundanese translations. It was headquartered in Buitenzorg. My religious teacher, Syech Ahmad Badjened, was made president, mainly to look after commercial and religious affairs. There were several other Badjeneds on the National Council, including his son, who had graduated from the university in Turkey.

The assistant resident of Buitenzorg welcomed this development warmly. We rented a building. We bought the furniture. The SDI now had its own headquarters.

Sandiman received orders to return to Solo and Jogja, where he had recently been active on other matters, to propagandize for the SDI. But he wasn’t enthusiastic about the idea. He had questions about the SDI similar to those he had asked earlier about the Sarekat Priyayi.

“Am I a trader?”

“Ah, trader or not a trader,” I explained, “everyone who does not depend on the government for their livelihood, but upon their own efforts, they are all traders. Maybe they trade in services. They are civilians, independent people, free people. OK?”

“Very well, Tuan. And tell me, Tuan, can I truthfully be called a Moslem?”

“You have never acknowledged any other religion, have you?”

“It is true that Islam has always been the religion of my ancestors, and of my family, including me.”

“So that means so-much-a-percent Islam, definitely Islam.”

“Is that all that is required of me, Tuan?”

“Has anyone said it is not enough?”

“That’s not the question, Tuan. As a propagandist it is very likely that I will face questions such as these in my work. And I will be working in my home territory where everyone knows me. I am familiar with just about everyone in Solo, even though not always as close friends.”

“Of course there will be many who know more about Islam than you. You are a propagandist for the organization, not for the religion. You can learn from them about religion. You must work out your own method of propagandizing for the organization.”

As soon as the SDI was registered with the government and its notarization published in the
State Gazette
, Sandiman departed for places unlimited, and for a time unknown. We inserted pamphlets into
Medan
, which meant that news of SDI traveled to Singapore, Malaya, Indochina, Europe, and Haji Moeloek in Jeddah, even though I still hadn’t published his
Tale of Siti Aini.
News spread far and wide. And so it had to, because
Medan
was still the largest circulation paper in the Indies, next to
De Locomotief.

Douwager entered my office, all agitated: “Have you given enough thought to this idea of setting up the SDI? Has it properly taken into account the concept of an Indisch people?”

“The term Indisch will frighten many people.”

“Only because it has not been explained enough.”

“People will be reminded of the Eurasians, and then of Christianity.”

“We will call the Eurasians Indo. That which is of the Indies as a whole we will call Indisch.”

“Trade and Islam provide a broader and more compelling basis of unity than Indisch. It’s not that I didn’t give your suggestions consideration. I did. It was just that they don’t seem to have a solid basis, they’re too vague. At least I couldn’t see what they are based on. Your concept seems more of an ideal, not something that is already emerging out of reality. Of course, today’s ideals can become tomorrow’s reality, but today we have to work out what to do on the basis of today’s reality.”

“I’m not saying that I think the foundation of the SDI should not go ahead and I certainly am not going to oppose it. It’s just that I want to know whether or not all our discussions—at least fifteen now—have proved that all the peoples of the Indies have to unite into an Indisch nation, a single people. Isn’t it true that
such a thing has to be struggled for, and therefore an organization is needed to struggle for it?”

“I agree—all these things are needed. But not in the way that you have tried to convince me. Whether this new nation will be called Nusantara or Indies or Insulinde, as Multatuli suggested, I don’t know and it isn’t my concern. That all the peoples of the Indies will slowly or quickly become a single people is, for me, not just likely but a definite certainty. But the method, Meneer, that is the point. And it won’t happen just because there is an organization to lead the struggle to attain such unity. The proper preconditions have to exist as well, such as commerce.”

“Commerce!” Douwager pursed his lips, holding back laughter.

“Commerce brings the peoples closer together.”

“The Europeans came here for the purposes of trade, Meneer, but always distanced themselves from the Natives. Indeed they often traded in Natives.”

“The Europeans didn’t come here with the intention of trading with us. They came here with cannon and rifle.”

“Whatever it was they used, they were still here for commerce.”

“If I were to rob you at gunpoint, taking all your clothes and just leaving a handkerchief to cover your embarrassment, and then I left you one and a half cents, would you call that trade or commerce? And that is exactly what the Europeans have done here in the Indies.”

“You forget that these days rifle and cannon are also instruments of trade and commerce,” said Douwager, rejecting my argument. “All around the world the conquered peoples are being turned into the producers of goods for the colonialists. And in some cases the people themselves become objects of trade.”

“It makes no difference. Commerce takes place only voluntarily between two willing parties. If an exchange takes place that is not voluntary, then it is criminal theft and not a commercial transaction that has occurred.”

“But in this modern era there are many ways to force people to sell or buy something. Even in the most advanced country of America, huge advertisements surround everyone, like great waves in the ocean, creating new desires and wants so that people are blackmailed, and threatened—if you don’t buy and use this or that product you’ll suffer this or that, or you will lose out in some
way or another. Sooner or later people start to believe it all, and are forced or tricked into buying something as a result of being confused and impotent. And it’s the same with clothes. People are forced to buy and wear new clothes. If they don’t, everyone will say they are behind the times.”

Seeing that I was silenced and caught up in his comments, he continued with his harangue: “We need to arouse an Indies nationalism. We need a political party, not just a social or commercial organization. The Indies has never had a political party. That’s what I have been talking about all this time.” He stopped, giving me a chance to think about things for myself.

I thought of Ter Haar, who had first introduced to me the concept of nationalism. But then I didn’t understand. Now Douwager was confronting me once again, but more directly, with this problem.

“I can’t answer you at the moment,” I said. “The questions of trade and Indies nationalism are questions I will, of course, respond to later.”

Then I went on to tell him of the commercial situation in Solo and Jogja and Tasikmalaya, as well as the collapse of the Native bamboo firms of Tangerang, about matters relating to sugar and land, about everything that can be brought alive if touched by trade, even the peaks of mountains, and about how money was now circulating more and more in the villages. I told him how there was talk of the abolition of rodi and how this would provide more room to move for the Natives. And how all of these things had to be pushed in the right direction, so that it was the Natives who would emerge triumphant, to be carried in the direction of progress, science, knowledge, and self-discovery.

And it was Islam, I went on to explain, that had always fought and opposed the occupiers ever since the Europeans first came to the Indies, and that would continue fighting as long as the colonialists held power. The softest form this opposition ever took was the refusal to work for the Dutch, and so the Moslems became traders. This tradition had to be marshaled, brought alive; it mustn’t be allowed to run amok without direction. This tremendous and powerful tradition could be turned into a force that could bring many good things for all the peoples of the Indies.

We could probably have continued and finished this discussion that week if it hadn’t been for the controversy that exploded in Bandung. The source of the explosion was
Medan
itself. Marko,
without my knowledge, had quietly been writing and putting in various news reports, most of them innocuous. Then suddenly there was that earthshaking article.

Over the last few months Marko had shown extraordinary abilities. From being a cleaner and bodyguard, he had taught himself to set type. He started with the headlines but was soon a competent setter of text as well. Then he started to teach himself how to write reports. And he started to put his reports into the paper without telling me and without Wardi and Sandiman realizing what was happening.

One day he handed over several articles to me. They seemed to have been written in a hurry. They were quite good, but it would have been dangerous to publish them, so I put them away in a file. He never asked about them. I thought then that he realized they could not be published. He handed in seven or eight more articles of the same dangerous kind over the next few weeks.

After the seventh time, he came and asked me straight out why his articles hadn’t been published.

“I respect very much your spirit, attitude, mentality, and knowledge, Marko. But you must realize that if we published these, the whole enterprise would be closed down without achieving what we all hope for. There will be a time when your writings can be read by the public, but not now.”

“Then can I have them back, Tuan?”

“No, Marko, they’re too dangerous for you to keep.”

“Then allow me to burn them in front of Tuan?”

“No. These articles speak of values that everyone should know of.”

“Then what, Tuan?”

“I will keep them myself. Listen to me, Marko. Governor-General van Heutsz has gone. If he were still here we could perhaps rely on him to intervene on our behalf if we got into trouble. None of us know what the new governor-general, this Idenburg, wants. Everyone is saying that his main task is to increase government revenue. He has never summoned me. You know that yourself. Neither did he invite me to the ceremony for his installation. You know what that all means?”

“No, Tuan.”

“So I will tell you. If the rumor about raising state revenue is true, then it is likely he will take strong action against anything
that gets in his way. People are saying now that van Heutsz wasted too much money on wars. His debts must be repaid with these increased revenues. And the army, with all its unproductive soldiers, must be reduced in size. Do you understand?”

“Of course, Tuan. But none of my articles was about government revenue. I swear it, Tuan.”

I couldn’t keep myself from bursting into laughter on hearing how simply he looked at things. He didn’t appear insulted. And indeed, it wasn’t my intention to insult him.

“But your writings inflame hatred of the government and its officials.”

“But that’s the feeling everywhere, Tuan. And it can be proved.”

“Of course that’s the general feeling. But you would never be able to prove it in one of their courts of law. I am not saying that you are wrong, Marko. But the government will always side with its own people who have helped it rule all this while. So you have to choose how you want to deal with the government—as part of a great wave or as a turtle that can be the plaything of the rulers.”

“Do I have to answer, Tuan?”

“Only if you want to.”

“I choose to be part of the wave, Tuan.”

“That’s easy,” I said. “Then throw yourself into the organizational work. Make yourself and your friends a part of a great mountainous wave.”

And indeed he did throw himself into the organization, like an ant who knew no tiredness. But his hatred of the officials seemed to have become a permanent part of his character. Perhaps he had suffered at the hands of officialdom even when he was a child, without ever being able to defend himself. And so it was that his article appeared that day in
Medan:

A youth from a well-off family, though not of the nobility, had graduated from the HBS. He quickly obtained work in the office of a local business. His name was Abdoel Moeis. Twice every week he could be seen leaving his house, in white short-sleeved shirt, white trousers, white shoes, white felt hat, riding an English bicycle to the local tennis courts. And there he played tennis with his European and Eurasian friends, no different from those Europeans except that he, like them, had his own personality.

A local Native official of some importance was infuriated by the sight of this youth with his European ways and clothes. Abdoel Moeis, who knew nothing of this person’s fury, continued with his ways.

It seemed he was not interested in knowing that in many places the local Native officials banned Natives from wearing European clothes, even if they had become Christians. People must continue to wear the clothes of their ancestors. Such a law or custom had never been formally decreed in Bandung.

And because this Native official could no longer restrain his fury at the young man, he ordered his underlings to teach the impertinent boy a lesson.

One day on his way home from tennis, Abdoel Moeis was stopped by a group of men. All the conversation that followed was in Sundanese.

“Who gave you permission to wear shoes?”

“There is no ban on shoes,” the youth answered firmly.

“But His Excellency the Bupati of Bandung and his minister don’t even wear shoes.”

“That’s up to them. If you like wearing shoes, why shouldn’t you wear them?”

These underlings began to lose their tempers and began to move threateningly toward him. One of them threatened: “Come on then, insult Their Excellencies again!”