I remembered the story of how Multatuli had been accused by the colonial newspapers of wanting to be a white emperor ruling over the peoples of the Indies, independent of the Netherlands!
“I’m not finished yet, Mas.”
“Good, please continue.”
It seemed that both Wardi and Douwager had sensed that I was not happy. Wardi continued carefully:
“We think that the ideas Edu has worked out based on these observations can be used to have a more successful go at reviving or building something like the Sarekat, which we have to admit has failed. You’ll listen to him, won’t you?”
“Please go ahead.”
“Now, you explain your ideas, Edu.”
“Yes, my friend.” Douwager took over. “I have heard from Wardi about the failure of the Sarekat Priyayi. We are of the same opinion, actually—namely, that it failed to unify the educated and advanced groups. The Sarekat tried to organize those who had received their positions from the government, a layer of people who are actually satisfied with their lot. This would only have led, even if the organization had kept functioning, to consolidating the priyayi in their positions and strengthening their privileges. As soon as it became clear that the organization could not do that, especially as it required of them new responsibilities, they dropped it. It collapsed.”
“And it was the original intention of the Sarekat to unite the educated and advanced groups,” Wardi explained, “but it didn’t turn out that way.”
It seemed that both of them were hoping that I would try to defend myself. But I didn’t say anything.
“Anyway, the key thing is that the idea behind the Sarekat was correct. Indeed, it still needs to be carried out somehow. The real question is, exactly who are the educated and advanced groups in the Indies?” Douwager continued. “Not the priyayi. It is my observation, my friend, that in the Indies, as soon as a person receives a position with the government he ceases to act as an educated person. He is immediately assimilated into the priyayi mentality—inflexible, greedy, corrupt, and with an insatiable appetite for others to bow down to him. I think the people we have to try to unite are not the priyayi but perhaps those who do not hold any position with the government.”
“Those who hold no position, Mas, we can call them ‘the independent people,’ not servants of the government; their ideas and activities are not fenced in by any allegiance to the government.”
No government position, free and independent people—this concept awakened my consciousness. The two of them were right.
“Continue, Mr. Douwager.”
“The farther away from any government position a person is, the more free their spirit becomes, the bolder their ideas. This is because their thinking is more flexible and dynamic. They can be more productive and creative. They have more opportunity to take initiatives. They’re not closed off and haunted by the fear of being dismissed at any time.”
“It’s very rare to come across an Indo who does not work for the government.”
“Forgive me, my friend. If you use the word Indo there always seems to be a racial connotation. Perhaps it’s better if we use the word Indisch meaning ‘of the Indies.’ The word Indo doesn’t seem to really carry any political meaning. But Indisch does have that connotation.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“This is precisely the matter we wish to discuss. From what I have heard from Wardi, you hold the view that the Indies is made up of many peoples and that its character is multiracial”
“Yes, I told him that this was your view, Mas.”
“In my opinion, this is where we have slightly different views. The Indies is not multiracial in character. The Indies has only one people, the Indisch. This idea means that every Indisch, every citizen of the Indies, no matter what his racial origin—Arab, Javanese, Indian, Dutch, Chinese, Malay, Buginese, Acehnese, Balinese, Mixed-Blood Chinese, even a Pure-Blood European who lives and dies in the Indies and is loyal to the Indies—they are all a part of the Indies people, Indisch.”
It was a startling idea, except that he was an Indo. It was another case of wanting to lose one’s identity, like Haji Moeloek. But it was only an idea. The reality was that such a thing would never happen in this century. Who would be willing to merge their identity into this “Indisch people”? Would the Natives or the Indos be willing? Or the other peoples?
“And what is the language of your Indisch people to be, my friend?”
“All the educated and advanced people use Dutch, of course,” said Douwager without hesitation. “It is not only the language of society and organization, but it is also an internationally recognized language in the world of education and science.”
“So you ignore the languages of the twenty-five million Javanese and the two million Malays, not to mention the other people who use their languages?”
“Yes, to set out on this path will mean we face many difficulties. But however that may be, this is the path that we must tread. It is only the educated and advanced thinking people who can lead. The others must follow.”
“What is your opinion about the Samin movement?”
“The Samin? Yes, there are one or two educated Europeans who admire them, but without educated leaders they will not get anywhere. They are a movement produced by the end of an age.”
“The end of an age?” Wardi asked, amazed.
“The teachings of the Samin mix beliefs that are more-or-less religious with politics.”
“Religious beliefs and politics?” I cried.
“Europe has separated politics and religion.”
“But Saminism is not a religion.”
“Before humankind knew the kind of politics we have today, my friend, religion was politics, as it is with the Samin movement now. And the followers of Samin also believe that their politics is their religion and vice versa.”
“But Saminism is not a religion!” I repeated hotly.
“No, you’re right, it’s not a religion. But that’s where it is heading, and where it would have been already, if they hadn’t lost their spiritual leader so quickly. In the past, that was always the way men built power and the way they went about using it. That’s why some people say, and I agree with them, that the Samin movement is a product of the end of an age.”
“You are going too far, Meneer, to think that, or even to agree with such an idea.”
“Hasn’t the boldness of Europe’s intellectual tradition now been passed on to the world? And also pioneered by Multatuli? Wasn’t Multatuli himself prepared to die in misery and in exile in the name of intellectual integrity? And are you yourself not an admirer of Multatuli, if I am not mistaken?”
“But your ideas mean challenging the enemy before we can stand on our own two feet!” I exclaimed. “You have to take into account the social reality in the Indies.”
“Every beginning is difficult. But fundamental ideas need not always be checked against reality. Reality must be made to conform to a fundamental idea, or the idea will be destroyed by it.”
“But that is not the way to unite people. It is an invitation to conflict and strife among ourselves,” I said, in all honesty. “Your ideas about organizing are not right. You will end up isolating yourself from the real developments. Perhaps what you suggest could take place in Europe. But here in the Indies? What about you, Wardi?”
“Yes, I agree. His views are too extreme on this,” he replied. “You never mentioned any of this to me, Edu.”
“What is it exactly that we wish to discuss? About our own personal views on different things or about the question of organization? If it’s one’s personal views on things, it’s best just to write them up and publish them oneself. If we’re talking about organization, then we are talking about common interests, and we shouldn’t be aiming to become prophets over or among our fellow countrymen. What is the common interest that binds together the peoples of the Indies?
“Every new opinion and idea always attracts its opponent
s,” Douwager went on. “Such new ideas are themselves born out of opposition to existing ones with all their deficiencies. What we need is not an organization that has thousands of members but that can do nothing. What we need is a small organization that can lead because its ideas cannot be refuted, and therefore they have to be accepted without conditions, an organization that can be the brains of the Indisch nation.”
“If that’s the case, then it should be enough to set up a salon for intellectuals, Mr. Douwager, as is also the tradition in Europe. Indeed, the world still does value the intellectuals and scholars who have been prepared to die to defend the truth. Is there a scholar among us three, or among the people of the Indies?”
A worker from the print shop came in and handed me a proof of the next editorial. I excused myself to Douwager and checked over the proofs, stamping them as ready for printing. I asked the worker to summon Sandiman.
He left. Sandiman arrived.
“How is the Sunday edition?”
“Everything has gone to press, sir. You can take a holiday tomorrow, Meneer. Monday even, perhaps even Tuesday.”
“Thanks. Has Mr. Frischboten arrived yet?”
“He’s in his office. You can leave Bandung now if you like, everything’s under control.”
“Good. I’ll leave soon. If you don’t see me around again, that’ll mean I’ve left.”
“Have a good rest, Tuan.”
Sandiman left, and I apologized to Douwager that I couldn’t continue the discussion just then. He left. And I went to see Frischboten.
He explained that it would be impossible for the Princess to leave Java without special permission from the governor-general. He needed to give no justification for any decision he would make. The governor-general had special rights and was not bound by the law. The Raja of Kasiruta had been exiled through the use of these special powers. That his daughter had not been involved in whatever had brought about the decision was irrelevant. Such a practice came from the backward custom of the peoples of the Indies themselves that held that with blood ties went shared responsibility.
So I didn’t need to go to see the assistant resident. If it was possible, I should go straight to the governor-general.…
Haji Moeloek entered just as I was about to leave my office. He was displaying a row of teeth that was no longer complete. He was obviously happy.
“You see, Tuan, my ship is not leaving until the day after tomorrow, so I thought I would come and see you. Who knows, you might have a present for me. An opinion on the manuscript that I left you, perhaps?”
“Oh yes, your manuscript. I have read it all. I liked it very much. It really brightened me up when I read it. It turns out that you are a wonderful writer. You obviously have a lot of experience.” He smiled, this time not showing his teeth. “I promise you that I will publish it as a serial in Medan. As you said, I think it will take at least two years.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“What about payment, Haji Moeloek?”
“Just a copy of the paper will be enough, my friend.”
“Ah, your real name. Could perhaps you tell me?”
“Haji Moeloek is name enough, Tuan.”
I looked at him in amazement. He opened his mouth wide and again I could see his uneven rows of teeth, incomplete and stained black from cigarette tar. “I am very happy to hear that you want to publish it, Tuan.”
“In the name of Allah, Tuan Haji, I promise I will also publish it in book form.”
“Such a great blessing. Praise be to God! I’m so happy that I can leave the Indies with such beautiful news. I’m going back to Betawi today. If you are also going to Betawi, you’re very welcome to join me. I have hired an English motorcar, Tuan.”
“A taxi?”
“Yes, I hired it in Betawi.”
It was obvious that Haji Moeloek was rich. And it was then that I realized that it was not only London that had taxis now—so did Betawi. The first automobile to enter had now been followed by others.
I told him that I would be very pleased to come with him but that I still had something to attend to. He said he was happy to wait and would even take me where I wanted to go.
And so it was that he escorted me to see the Princess of Kasiruta.
It was half past four in the afternoon. The Princess was boarding with a Dutch family named Doornebos. I told her everything that had been explained to me by Frischboten. It was different from when we met in the office. Now she sat with her face turned away as if she didn’t want to look into my face.
She was wearing an evening dress made from brown-colored silk, as if to go with her enticing black skin.
“There is no use in going to see the assistant resident, Princess. I will try to see the governor-general himself, tomorrow or the day after. Don’t be discouraged. I’m going down to Buitenzorg right now.”
It was only then that she decided to look up at me, and at Haji Moeloek.
“Don’t forget our request for your assistance, Princess,” I added.
“So you will be going down to Buitenzorg by car. Would it be all right if I went with you as far as Sukabumi?”
“Of course,” said Haji Moeloek, as fatherly as he could be, and that was the first time that I heard him speak Dutch. “Come on, we can leave as soon as you’re ready.”
“Is it all right if I have ten minutes to get my things together?”
Haji Moeloek took out his gold pocket watch, looked at it, and replied openly: “Why not? Please do. We will wait.”
As soon as the girl left, he whispered: “Indo girls aren’t usually as refined as that.”
“She’s not Indo. Native. She is the Princess of Kasiruta.”
“Ah, this is the first time I have met a Native princess,” he murmured, I thought she was Indo.”
“She has been exiled with her family to Priangan.”
“A boring story. All stories that are not about a free and liberated life are tedious. It’s as if there is nothing else to tell about in this colony except exiling and oppressing. Other people travel the world, enjoying life, smiling and laughing, full of joy. Here there are people exiled in their own country.”
The Princess of Kasiruta emerged carrying a leather suitcase.
Haji Moeloek quickly took the case from her, and we all climbed aboard the automobile.
The driver was a young Indo, hunched up, and, it seemed, a rather surly type. He sat calmly beside Haji Moeloek. I sat in the back with the Princess.
The sun had begun to set and the car pulled up on the side of the road. The driver alighted and lit the automobile’s carbide lights. Then we continued the journey but at a reduced speed.
“Why are you so quiet, Princess?” I asked.
“What is there to talk about?”
“Many things, if you have the desire to. How many times has Princess ridden in an automobile?”
“This is the first time.”
“Do you like it? Our ancestors never rode anything like this.”
She let me listen to a little laugh as an answer.
Haji Moeloek turned around to the back and asked: “So, Tuan, what do you think of what I had to say that time about the Indos? Do you agree that they are a group that has made a contribution but has not been recognized for it.”
“If you were to put your ideas down on paper in detail, I’m sure it would provoke a lot of discussion. You would need to polish your analysis a little, adding things here and giving up things elsewhere. Why don’t you write your ideas down?”
“Maybe that’s the best thing to do,” he said. “Perhaps I also argue a bit too hard sometimes. Forgive me, Tuan.” He faced the front once again.
“So, if His Excellency the governor-general still refuses you permission to return home, you will surely be willing to help us with the magazine, Princess,” I said, trying to influence her. “Everything is always difficult in the beginning. But things always get easier later. And don’t forget—in Malay, Princess.”
&
nbsp; “I think I would like it very much. But of course it is my father who will decide.”
“Fine. You will be able to speak to your father about it in a moment.”
After one hour on the road, we stopped in front of a simple dwelling on the side of the main road. As soon as the car had entered the front yard of the house, it was surrounded by a swarm of people. Everyone inside the house also came out, amazed to see a car stopping at their house.
Carrying her own case, Princess ran off and went inside the house. She didn’t come out again. An old man with glasses, wearing a kopiah on his head, dressed in a velvet shirt and black velvet trousers and carrying a cane, came out and invited us in.
My friend just listened when I spoke up to introduce myself in Malay. The old man nodded. With a movement of his hand, he invited us to sit. Then he went into a room and didn’t come out for some time. Haji Moeloek kept glancing at me, perhaps protesting at having to wait here for so long. I pretended not to understand. It’s true, isn’t it, that sometimes a long wait can bring its own blessings?
The old man came out again, still with his cane, but this time his kopiah was pushed farther back on his head. And he seemed to have changed. His face shone, and he went straight into Malay: “So you are the chief editor of Medan, son. Thank you, son, thank you. I never expected it. I hear that you will seek an audience with the governor-general tomorrow or the next day. Good luck, son, good luck. And could you ask him also why it was that we were exiled secretly like this? You have no objections to asking about this, do you, son?”
“I will try, Tuan Raja.”
“Just say Bapak. And who is your friend?”
“Haji Moeloek, Tuan Raja,” answered Hans.
“What if you were to stay here tonight?”