Even though I only half understood, I could still see that it was not van Kollewijn who was the god, but Ter Haar. This athletic-bodied Dutchman was tough-thinking and didn’t hesitate for a moment to expose the giant fraud that had been carried out upon my people. I trembled. I am unable to explain how I felt at that moment. I was not a god. I was not yet anything.
“Yes, it’s a pity that’s not on my agenda during this trip. Even so, I will take note of what you’ve said.” His corpulent body seemed even fatter now, and white, like a big fat white ghost.
“Yes, a pity,” repeated Ter Haar. “Does Your Excellency agree with my opinion that corruption during the East Indies Company period was just as great as that which exists today?”
“Corruption is not foreign to the Indies, especially to the Native ruling class,” van Kollewijn was forced to answer. “Isn’t that so, General?”
“It is not my responsibility to answer that question, unfortunately,” replied van Heutsz.
“A billion guilders corrupted over thirty years has nothing to do with the Natives. Don’t Christians always pay back their debts? When will the Netherlands pay back its thirty-year-old debt, and the interest that’s owing as well?”
General van Heutsz, head bowed, was concentrating on all that was being said, although his boredom was also obvious. I took another look around the table.
Ter Haar’s question remained unanswered. Van Kollewijn tried to laugh the question off. His friend the general seemed to understand his predicament. The general interrupted the silence to ask Marie van Zeggelen: “I think Marie van Zeggelen might be interested in other matters.”
She smiled and nodded, then: “If the chair does not object?”
The old man looked at van Kollewijn, who nodded in agreement.
“Yes, the opportunity is now open to Miss van Zeggelen and the gentlemen to ask questions of the general, even though it is outside the agenda.”
“On the condition, gentlemen, that nothing discussed here today is to go beyond this room,” said van Kollewijn.
“With the Aceh War drawing to an end, General…” she began to ask.
“It has been announced that the war, as a military exercise, is over,” the general butted in.
“Excuse me. Now that the war, as a military exercise, is over, can you say whether there is some light at the end of the tunnel? Can the Natives look forward to peace? Or the reverse?”
“That’s a matter for the Netherlands Indies government. It’s not for me to answer.”
“Thank you. But I am asking what the general’s own views are?”
“An honor.” Van Heutsz nodded quickly and happily. “However, as a soldier, it is not my job to talk about policies, let alone actually govern.”
“Exactly,” van Kollewijn backed him up.
“I mean your personal opinion,” Marie van Zeggelen pressed him.
“Personal opinion? Of course I have one, but it’s not for the public.”
“Of course. But don’t you think you should let your old friends, and your new ones here, know what your views are? Isn’t that fair enough, General, as long as there are no military secrets involved?”
“Very well, for my old and new friends who are here with us tonight. Everyone knows from the papers that the war in Aceh was very costly. Almost the total resources of the Indies, both manpower and money, were mobilized for that conquest. Now that the war is over, the government will, of course, be able to begin to strengthen the administration there, tighten security, and restore civil order. And to unify the Indies.”
“Of course, you mean expand, don’t you, not unify?”
“Unify.”
“I think the general has always preferred this new term, which in fact has the same meaning,” pressed Marie van Zeggelen.
“Nah, what did I say? A soldier shouldn’t get involved in talking.”
“Very true, General. This new term of yours explains everything very clearly.”
Van Heutsz laughed boisterously. His eyes pleaded for help from van Kollewijn, who was grinning, enjoying his friend’s discomfort.
“Once you’ve begun to speak,” the member of parliament said, “you must continue. What else can you do?”
All eyes were now focused on the general, famed for his conquest of Aceh. I had been observing him closely. I wanted to get a feel for how a killer talked and behaved.
“It’s not difficult to understand what the implications are. The money saved by ending the war in Aceh can now be put to other uses….”
His movements and the way he spoke were enough to make one feel confident in predicting that more wars would be breaking out everywhere. More Natives, armed with bows and arrows and spears, in as yet unknown places, would die in their hundreds on the orders of this man. For the sake of the unity of the colony, in other words, for the security of big capital in the Indies. The spilling of more blood, the loss of life, slavery, oppression, exploitation, humiliation—all this would occur at the wave of his hand. All this man sitting near me need do was point with his baton at the map, and somewhere in the Indies hell would descend to tear apart the lives of the people. Those left alive would be burdened with rodi, which would produce more of that unaccounted, unreported wealth for the Indies.
“No one should misunderstand,” van Heutsz went on. “The unification of the Indies does not mean expansionism. There are pockets of power, different political enclaves, a score or so, still left in these Indies, which are destabilizing surrounding regions—regions that have acknowledged the sovereignty of Her Majesty.”
“They are independent states,” said Marie van Zeggelen, “just like Aceh before it was conquered.”
“They are not states, they are stateless regions. They have no economy or monetary system. They have no foreign relations.”
“They are independent states,” Ter Haar retorted, “no matter how small or weak.”
“They use old Chinese coins, not their own coinage. In the Batak area, for example, they use the Spanish dollar,” answered van Heutsz.
“That’s no criterion. Some of them do have foreign relations. They all have systems of government. They have their own defenses. Isn’t that so, Your Excellency?”
Engineer van Kollewijn just smiled silently.
“And they are a source of strife,” van Heutsz stated firmly.
“Perhaps they think we are the source of strife, General.”
Van Heutsz laughed and nodded vigorously. He seemed to be enjoying the debate. Then: “That’s why we make, buy, and use guns.”
And whoever does not make them, buy them, and use them—now I understood—they become targets and victims.
“And what about East Papua? And Southeast Papua? Are they on the list of regions to be ‘unified’?”
“Ha-ha-ha,” the general laughed again. “I haven’t got any list. There is no list. No one has ever made a list.”
“And anyway,” Ter Haar added, “East Papua has become Germany’s burden. The Southeast is Australia’s.”
The discussion turned more and more into a debate. Van Kollewijn cleverly avoided becoming involved. His obese body didn’t seem to move at all, except for his head. And that only with difficulty.
“And West Papua is a heavy burden for the Indies. But we all know that west, east, or southeast, it’s all a matter of the prestige of the Empire. It’s got nothing to do with strategy, or colonial welfare, or even geopolitics.” Ter Haar kept pressing van Heutsz. “Are these pockets of power you talk about important only because of the prestige that would flow from their conquest or do you say it’s a matter of territorial integrity, General?”
“Prestige, territorial integrity, and power.”
“The party of the Honorable Member of Parliament, His Excellency van Kollewijn, is campaigning to repay the debt of honor we owe to the Indies—I hope this will not turn out to be just a promise used for political purposes.”
Van Heutsz seemed offended. He stopped laughing. His cheerfulness disap
peared. His mustache trembled. “If I were in power, the Free Democratic party would be allowed to implement its program, on the condition that there were no more colonial wars in progress, that is to say, the wars would have to be finished first.”
Obviously such wars were going to continue. These murderers were still thirsty for blood, the blood of Natives, of my fellow countrymen.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” interrupted our elderly host, “I think we should return to our official program. It will not be so easy for General van Heutsz to leave the Indies. Even though it might be somewhat difficult, it is possible for us to meet him. On the other hand, this is a rare opportunity for us to speak with His Excellency, the Honorable Member of Parliament Mr. van Kollewijn, who may get out here only a couple of times every ten years.”
The questioning turned again to van Kollewijn and proceeded rapidly. Everyone deliberately ignored van Heutsz, who was on the verge of losing his temper. Everyone had asked some kind of important question. I was the only one who had not said anything. No doubt everyone was assuming that I felt inferior among these high-level European Pures. Then, all of a sudden, van Heutsz turned to me and said: “Mr. Minke…you have a very easy name to remember. You too must have some important questions.” He smiled, perhaps to help subdue his anger.
I showed no nervousness. Thanks be to God! I was the only Native, and the only young person, present. Acknowledgment by the conquering general of Aceh, it would be said, was still a real acknowledgment. I felt Ter Haar nudge my leg with his feet.
“Thank you, Your Excellency. Concerning this question of free labor, Your Excellency, does it include the freedom to evict farmers who do not wish to rent their land to the sugar mills?”
“Your question’s not quite clear,” said van Kollewijn, while looking one by one at each of those present. He was obviously preparing an answer. Or he considered my question to be totally stupid.
I repeated my question. He still didn’t answer. My nerves were on edge. I was afraid that my question was about to be disregarded as ridiculous. Was my question wrong or stupid? Everything was quiet, and the quiet tortured me. It was just a few seconds, but it felt like eternity. I caught Marie Van Zeggelen rocking her bag. Ter Haar shuffled on his chair. Why wasn’t my question answered?
“Is that sort of thing still happening?” asked van Kollewijn. His eyes spoke to van Heutsz.
“I haven’t heard of anything like that, Your Excellency,” a journalist answered.
“We haven’t received any reports of that sort of thing,” someone else commented.
I’ve had it, I thought to myself. I must be ready.
“You’re related to a bupati, aren’t you, Mr. Minke?” asked van Kollewijn.
“You’re not mistaken, Your Excellency.”
“I’m quite amazed to hear you ask such a question, Meneer Minke. Have you perhaps been in contact with the peasants?”
“No, Your Excellency, but I did by coincidence witness such an incident.”
“Where did it happen, Mr. Minke?” asked van Kollewijn very politely.
“Sidoarjo, Your Excellency.”
“Sidoarjo!” one journalist cried out.
“You mean, Mr. Minke, that you witnessed what happened among the Sidoarjo peasants last year?” van Heutsz suddenly asked with rather excessive respect.
Something had given me the courage to bring forward this otherwise unknown incident. Meanwhile Ter Haar was nudging my foot under the table. He was obviously warning me. But it wasn’t his warnings that were foremost in my mind at that moment, rather it was the fate of those peasants and their families, and their friends. I had made a promise to them. So I told the whole story, from the beginning until the peasants’ uprising and the deaths of all the peasants.
As soon as I had finished Ter Haar hurriedly spoke out: “Excuse me,” he said, “Mr. Minke is a medical student.”
“You mean he hasn’t studied the law?”
“That is right, Your Excellency.”
I remembered all the problems I had experienced with the law in the past. And I became somewhat afraid. No doubt this god before me would seek to entangle me again with the law, and would accuse me of not reporting what I had witnessed.
The atmosphere became tense again. And I too was tense.
“Yes, it does seem that Mr. Minke here does not understand the law. You could be in trouble because of this, Mr. Minke. You should have reported what you knew before the uprising occurred; then the authorities could have acted to prevent it.”
“I am not speaking just about the uprising itself,” I spoke out, overcoming my fear. “The question is, does ‘free labor’ mean the freedom to evict farmers from their own land?”
Among all those present, only Ter Haar and Marie van Zeggelen did not seem to be offended by my question.
“Your question, and indeed your whole story, is not so important,” answered van Kollewijn, “but even so it could bring you into contact with the police. They could charge you with covering up evidence.”
“Excuse me, Your Excellency, but I do not have any business with the police.”
“But Mr. Minke, it’s very difficult for anyone to say they do not have business with the police. The security of the state is protected by the police. Therefore everyone, from the smallest baby to the oldest grandfather, has business with the police. Also, you knew of the situation before the uprising took place. And you didn’t report it.”
“Yes, it’s true, I didn’t report it to the police. But I did write a report for everyone to read, before the uprising,” I answered, and my fear disappeared with my next sentence. “But the newspaper refused to publish it; the editor was even angry with me.”
Van Kollewijn nodded, like some kind of all-knowing god.
“Furthermore,” I went on, “as far as I know—and I hope I’m wrong—the police have never taken action to investigate the eviction of those farmers by the sugar mill.”
“Do you think I could read that article of yours?” van Heutsz asked.
“Because I was so disappointed after it was rejected,” I replied, “I tore it up on the way home from the newspaper office.”
And it couldn’t have been otherwise: All eyes were now focused on the wayward child present, that is to say, me. Van Kollewijn did not answer my question. Neither did van Heutsz. And the, according to himself, all-wise host looked at me with accusing eyes: You, uninvited, a rotten Native, you have ruined this meeting, which should have been a beautiful evening.
He spoke: “The discussion has been very useful tonight. Our thanks to His Excellency the Honorable Engineer van Kollewijn and also to His Excellency General van Heutsz and to all our invited guests. Good evening.”
Everyone stood to honor the VIPs as they left. But instead they did not leave straightaway. Both van Heutsz and van Kollewijn held out their hands to me.
“I was very happy to hear what you had to say,” said van Kollewijn.
“You speak clearly and with courage and honesty,” said van Heutsz.
“Who brought you here?” asked the official host.
“Perhaps we can have a more private talk?” said van Kollewijn.
“Unfortunately I am bound by my promise to the school director to catch up with my studies, Your Excellency.”
“I judge from your attitude, Mr. Minke, that you have experienced some tragedy and disappointment in your life. Would it be all right with you if I invited you for a discussion one day?”
“If the school director permits it, Your Excellency Mr. General.”
“Good. If I get the opportunity, I’ll try to arrange it.”
They left the club. As soon as the group broke up, the host from the club attacked Ter Haar.
“And I, representing both the management of the club and all its members, condemn you for bringing a Native here. You know the rules.”
“Be as angry as you like, sir. In any case, both van Kollewijn and the general appreciated the chance to meet Mr. Minke. They have eve
n asked for another meeting.”
“But not in this club.”
“That’s up to them.”
“Get out!”
“Yes, Minke, we don’t need to stay here any longer. What for, anyway? We don’t want to hang around haunting the place. Come on, let’s go. And thank you to our host, who has been so kind. This is the first time a Native has set foot—other than as a waiter or coolie—inside this building which was built on the land of his own ancestors. Good evening.”
So we left the old man there, muttering.
In the delman, Ter Haar began again. “Next time you must be more careful when you start talking about things that touch upon power, that is to say, Sugar. You must be fully equipped before you go into the field of battle. We were lucky the old man knew when to end the session.”
“So you’re not angry with him?”
“No need to be angry. He knew he was breaking the club rules. It was against the rules for you to come into the club. Perhaps because of his age, or because he was hoping for some kind of praise from his guests, he didn’t comment on your presence even after he saw you there. Or perhaps we just outmaneuvered him!”
“So you had some scheme in mind when you took me to the Harmoni.”
“Forget it.”
“And what I said really did put me in danger?”
“It did worry me. You joined battle without knowing the lay of the land. Don’t worry. Yes, they’re free to interpret your story any way they like. Perhaps you were in league with those peasants. You might even have been the brains behind the uprising. But don’t worry. If anything happens, I’ll be by your side.”
I listened carefully to what he said, making sure that I remembered it all. Just as I had made promises to people in the past, now Ter Haar was making such a promise to me. He was a friend. And people must have friends, said my mother. It was true—friendship was more powerful than enmity. Ter Haar had proved himself a Liberal who did not bow down to Sugar, but only to the principles of humanity. How beautiful was his spirit, like an orchard in the middle of this desert.