quiet down and apologize or shut up. In short, my prescription was, never once show pity for the Dutch.
The characteristic reserve of Eastern peoples and Indonesians in particular is not found at all among the Dutch. Either they are afraid and bow down, or they feel superior and demand everything and trample all over you. Over three centuries ago the Japanese, after some bitter experiences, expelled all white people and forbade their own people to leave their shores. The only Europeans who stayed in Japan, on the tiny island of Dhasima, under an agreement that the other nationals thought unacceptably humiliating, were . . . the Dutch.52
When the Lord of the Skies in the Middle Kingdom (China) demanded that all foreign envoys, like representatives of subject nations, kowtow to him at the sound of a bell, the British envoy had to quickly grab the Dutch envoy around the waist to stop him from kowtowing. The British envoy understood that even one blackleg flatterer could undermine respect toward all white people then in China. Like the true kruidenier with his minimum program of profit, the Dutch are capable of carrying out any strategy or tactics, from bullying to kowtowing.
I still remember an incident on the tennis courts of Tanjung Morawa when we were visited by tennis players from the other branches of Senembah Mij. At the request of the tennis director, Bookkeeper No. 2, I gave up my racquet to visiting women players twice in a row. Asked for a third time to defer, though there were many Dutch men who could have been asked, I was forced to refuse bluntly. Afterwards my colleague, the schoolmaster Tuan W, cautioned me that I had been too quick to defend my honor. I answered that the truth was just the opposite.
[58] Not long after that I came into conflict with even this colleague. I don’t know whether it was the lack of an afternoon nap (and in the Netherlands he certainly would not have known that habit) or because he had got out of the wrong side of the bed or because tropical fever was on the rise, but he apparently forgot the socialism and antiauthoritarianism that he had believed in the Netherlands less than a year before.53
One afternoon he came to where I was working. Standing right beside me, he began to criticize the work being done by my pupils—the hoeing was not deep enough, the wickerwork was not strong enough—in a loud voice like that used by the Tuan Besar. I was not going to stand for that. I reminded him that the children had already had a long day and that hoeing and weaving were only supplementary lessons performed so that the poor children could get some pocket money. The most important lessons for them were those given to children of their age in any country, that is, the normal education of the primary school. Furthermore, if he came to where I was working he should first say hello and ask my permission to enter. Neither would I permit him to criticize or reprimand the pupils under my care. And, finally, if the work had to be carried out according to his wishes, then he should come himself to explain the instructions, but he should not tell me what to do. With a red face he asked, “Who is the boss?” I answered, “There is no boss; I came here to work together with you. If there had been any other arrangement I wouldn’t have accepted it. Only I am surprised that a person who not very long ago was struggling to overthrow the head teacher concept in his own country has now forgotten his own principles.” He did not answer me. Without another word he went straight to the Tuan Kebun, the head administrator, Tuan T.
Not long afterwards I was called to the office. There I was confronted by both Tuan T and my colleague Tuan W. Tuan T showed me a letter from Tuan W asking for clarification as to who was the head of the school system in Senembah Mij. I reminded the Tuan Kebun that my agreement with Dr. Janssen was that I should work together with Tuan W to develop an educational system suited to the needs of the plantation coolie children. The Tuan Kebun was not concerned about a suitable system. He merely said that of course in the plantation there was a “head” and that Tuan W was older and more experienced than I.
[59] I stated that it may well be that the plantation needed a “head”; that was something I knew nothing about. But in my work, and particularly in trying to find a suitable educational system, the question of heads and bosses was quite out of place. And, in any case, the person who was acting as the head was someone who, when I had known him in the Netherlands, was strongly opposed to head teachers. Naturally I conceded that Tuan W was older and more experienced than I. But his experience was among Dutch children. As to understanding the spirits of the Indonesian pupils, I was not going to concede that his experience was greater than mine. And understanding the spirits of the children was the most important part of our work in the school.
Perhaps because the Tuan Kebun was not all that concerned with education, perhaps because he was shortly to go on leave, or even perhaps because Dr. Janssen was due back in Tanjung Morawa soon, he decided to conclude the affair by asking, “Do you both want to apologize to each other and then work together again?”54 I had no objections, and we went home as usual.
It was Tuan W’s practice to go around from kampung to kampung in his car and to send in a report at the end of the month on his work at Senembah Mij. For me, on the other hand, the method and basic principles for teaching coolie children were beginning to become clear: I felt I had to know the character, wishes, and inclinations of each child. I also felt it necessary to establish one school as a model. In order to accomplish all this, one could not play Tuan Besar with the coolie children, nor fool around driving in a car from school to school. At first I did accompany Tuan W on these jaunts, but after several trips I became aware that they only wasted time and gasoline.
I considered it crucial to be close to the parents as well as to the children. This would be very easy in genuine Indonesian society, but it was difficult on the plantation. I was caught between the society of the Dutch mad with tropical fever and that of the contract coolies. If I were too close to the Dutch, then I would not have the full confidence of my own people. But, on the other hand, if I were too close to my own people the Dutch would be suspicious of me.
[60] On this question of choosing a position, the decision was always made according to my conviction and obligations. Gradually I was able to get coolies or other workers to come to my house to discuss things. Naturally it was not only the life of the coolie children that we would discuss, but all aspects of the life of the plantation coolies. I understood immediately how difficult it would be to improve the lot of the coolie families. They were bound by all kinds of regulations in their contract, which they could not even read, much less understand, but of which they lived in fear, like a pact with the devil.55 They were bound by conservatism, ignorance, darkness, and the evil desires deliberately fanned by gambling. They had absolutely no right or possibility to improve their fate through a legal trade union. The whole of colonial society was full of traitors or prospective traitors, and the society of the contract coolies had more than its share.
The fever-maddened Tuan Besar were whispering among themselves and had their clubs ready to beat me. It was not only my contact with the contract coolies that they thought was insupportable, for they were also concerned about some articles in the liberal Medan newspaper, the Sumatra Post,56 and about my connections with leaders of the Deli railway strikers.57
One night Hazejager rushed into my house. “They have it in for you,” he said. “They (the Tuan Besar of the plantation) think that Pontjo Drio (a correspondent of the newspaper Sumatra Post) is really Tan Malaka. They think that you have something to do with the Deli railway strike since you have spoken with the strike leaders and have even been visited by them here. They have also been hearing about the meetings in your own house with the contract coolies.”58
The next day I was called to the office of the deputy Tuan Kebun, the Tuan Kebun himself being on leave. The deputy presented all these charges to me and asked whether they were in fact true. I denied the accuracy of some of the assertions, for they had indeed been distorted. As to the Pontjo Drio matter, I asked him to check with the Sumatra Post to see for himself who was lying. Furthermore, I stated my right as a free Indonesian to help raise the level of my own people and to have contact with whomever I thought fit. Finally, I protested against
