I explained to them that in Siam there are thirty thousand people who speak Malay, and in Malaya everyone except the Chinese speaks Malay. There were more in Singapore and in the Philippines. In the Indies we could say that everyone understood Malay.
“So, my brothers, our nation is not just that of the Javanese, but includes many other peoples as well, bound together by the things that I have explained to you. It is much greater than that which people have described as the Indisch nation or the Indies nation. As for its name, I do not have one yet. Perhaps we will need a new name for it. And the Javanese are only a part of this great nation.”
I understood that they weren’t all that interested in this kind of story—a story that did not promise some new monetary gain! I had to add some fire to this story for them.
“Here in Solo business and commerce are already quite advanced. You are all receiving a good living due to the blessings of God Almighty. This would be even more the case if our nation were to become much bigger, covering the peoples outside the Indies as well, and if all the business and commerce were in the hands of Natives. Try to imagine how great will be the prosperity from God that you, my brothers, will be able to harvest. And all this can come to pass if the Sarekat can grow and expand in all the corners of the Indies, and even outside it. If the Sarekat does not strive to achieve this, then it will all just remain dreams and nothing else. The Sarekat will try to form an army of propagandists who will be sent off to all the regions.”
And so they began to pay more attention. One interrupted to ask that I put my ideas on this question of nationalism in writing so they could study it more closely and develop the ideas more easily.
I promised I would do that.
“Today our biggest factories cover an area equivalent to fifteen houses. When we establish our new nation, then our factories will expand in accordance with how big our nation is. Perhaps they will become as big as whole towns, as in Europe and America.”
Then discussion ensued—and in this there was something very strange—about just how to unite all the component peoples, exactly how we could go about doing it. But not a single person even mentioned the fact that the Indies was under the political control of the Dutch.
“And just think, if everything is in the hands of the Natives as it is here in Solo, then there will be no more Knijpers, TAI, or Zweep, because we will be deciding everything. And also what the government is allowed to do will be up to us.”
I saw their eyes shine with idealism, as if they wanted to convince me that they had grasped the essence of what I was saying. The government would bow to us, without resorting to arms as they had in Bali, as they had against Diponegoro, Imam Bonjol, Troenodjojo, Troenodongso, and Surapati. It was enough for us to be united, it was enough for the Islamic Traders Union, the Sarekat, to be strong and resolute.
To close the meeting I recommended that they put right their leadership methods. They mustn’t allow the membership to end up losing faith in them. The membership needed clear leadership.
The clock struck twelve times and the meeting adjourned.
As soon as I returned home from Solo I began making plans for the expansion of the Sarekat to all Malay-speaking areas, in and outside the Indies. In the article I wrote, I also included the Malay-speaking peoples of Ceylon and South Africa. For the time being I called them all the Greater Malay Nation.
As soon as it was printed it was distributed to all Sarekat branches and down to the sub-branches too.
The decision that the Sarekat would use Medan as its beacon meant that our circulation jumped up again. But we still couldn’t catch up to Sin Po, which was the beacon for the young Chinese nationalists in the region.
Requests for legal assistance no longer came only direct to Frischboten. The Sarekat branches now also received cases. Hendrik had to employ several assistants.
And the Central Leadership, namely myself, had also prepared its plans for the coming year, 1913. Because there were no longer any disputes over the question of religious versus modern education, it was now time for the SDI to start its own schools. They would provide a general, modern education, with religious instruction provided in the afternoon. I drew up the curriculum myself. I took the ELS curriculum as my base, except that I cut out Dutch history and replaced it with Indies history. Dutch language lessons were cut by two hours a week, which were to be used for instruction in Malay.
A two-month course for propagandists was held in Buitenzorg. There were delegates there from all the branches in Java. I, Sandiman, and sometimes also Frischboten spoke to them—Frischboten about the law. The two months passed and they returned home, taking with them resources they did not possess before.
These sixty propagandists immediately began work. They also took back ideas on how to improve their organization. The result was even further increases in membership. And not just in Solo. Everywhere! Outside Java too. So I dared come to the conclusion that all these developments proved that we had chosen the right basis upon which to build the organization. We were indeed providing what the people needed in the way of organization. It was now clear that a great movement, encompassing tens of thousands of the peoples of the Indies, as well as the Malay-speaking peoples outside the Indies, was possible. All that was needed was for just one propagandist to take on the task of visiting the new areas.
I never dreamed that it would be as great and wonderful as this, Child. You are greater than I ever guessed. You have made my life here far from the Indies so beautiful, wrote Mama from Paris.
Om, wrote Maysoroh, I have seen two reports now in the French papers about the movement that you are leading. It is indeed true that you are needed by your people. I often think about how you have achieved so much, just as you had always hoped. It stirs deep feelings within me. The Indies will be bright now, Om. May you also be bright and clear under His blessings.
I have now appeared in Paris society as a singer—not a famous singer, Om, but singing in certain small circles.
I always think of you, my good and kind Om. Papa is often ill these days. Jeannette, my little sister, is growing into a sweet and pleasing child. Mama is as healthy and as devoted to her work as always.
Not yet, Om, I am not yet married. I have no desire for that for the time being.
Rono Mellema never wrote.
My son, wrote my father, for the first time since I left Surabaya. For all these years I have thought to myself of how I must act toward you. The answer that you sent back with your mother truly startled and shocked me. For a long time I could not sleep or eat because I was thinking about it. It is not easy to understand your thinking and your actions, your ideals and your works. But now I have made a decision. I am on your side, Son, fully and with all sincerity. You are my teacher. Secretly now I have been protecting the Sarekat in my region.
My Son, may God grant his blessings for eternity.
Meneer, wrote Hans Haji Moeloek from Jeddah, I have received news from the Netherlands that the Syndicate has been forced to drop its plans for reducing the land rents it would pay. This news I have for you is from very reliable sources. Congratulations, Meneer. No Native has ever before been able to defy the will of the Europeans. You have proved that it is possible. But, Meneer, don’t ignore my warning, a warning from a friend—they will not take this lying down. I don’t mean in regard to the land rent issue itself, but as regards you yourself, Meneer. Be careful, and be even more than just careful.
He was right. The bigger the victory, the less vigilant one became. And lack of vigilance was the path to one’s demise. I must be cautious in enjoying the fruits of these victories.
The last portion of Nyai Permana was published. The letters that came in, all from men, almost all asked: If women were given the right to divorce their husbands, what then would become of the position of men? Was not such an idea leading people astray? Did it not violate the laws of religion?
These were all very important matters. But for the time being I put them aside.
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The land question that I had also discussed in my story did not, however, elicit any reaction at all.
No matter.
There were so many organizational needs pressing in on us that the question of reestablishing a competent, honest, and most important of all, a courageous Central Leadership became urgent. I myself had decided that I should become the Central Leadership’s main propagandist. I planned to travel from region to region, both within the Indies and outside.
I summoned the presidents of the Solo and Jogjakarta branches, and all those branches where Native commerce was expanding or at least holding its own, to Buitenzorg. We held a small conference that discussed the questions of the Central Leadership and of our long-range propaganda activities. Of course, it is not of interest to note here all the ins and outs of the discussions. What needs to be noted down are the decisions. The conference agreed to the proposal that I begin propaganda work, with the condition that I be accompanied by my wife. Second, on my own recommendation, the general chairman of the Sarekat, namely myself, should transfer the mandate of Central Leadership to Haji Samadi in Solo.
The hand-over took place that night after I had edited and improved the text of the mandate that had been agreed to by the little gathering. From the moment the mandate was signed, the Central Leadership was transferred from Buitenzorg to Solo.
The conference, having also discussed the countries that I would visit, which included Singapore, Malaya, Siam, and the Philippines, finally adjourned. All the delegates from the branches returned to their respective regions.
Sandiman and Marko, with Frischboten’s help, would continue to publish Medan.
But I would not be completely honest if I did not explain here the personal reasons I had for taking on the propaganda tasks that would take me outside Java and even outside the Indies. The shooting of the Zweep had been worrying me for some time. If it was true that the assassinations were carried out by those close to me, then it was likely that there would be some kind of revenge—open and through the law, or outside the law, perhaps open, perhaps not. If it was done through the law, then the whole affair could also be used to destroy the Sarekat.
Once I was traveling outside Java and the Indies, and with full authority over the Sarekat now with Haji Samadi, the integrity of the organization would be protected if I or any of those close to me were charged.
I did not dare discuss any of this with Frischboten. He should not know anything of this, even if I guessed he might know anyway. Even those involved were not prepared to open up to me about it. I had no real evidence. As busy as I was with all kinds of activities and ideas, I could not overcome my anxiety about this.
“Princess,” I called to her one afternoon after telling Sandiman, Marko, and their friends that they would have to run Medan themselves from now on, “we are going on a long journey.”
“You mean together with me?”
“Of course. You are my wife, aren’t you?”
“But will I be allowed to leave Java?”
I was stopped in my tracks. I had never thought about that.
“Ah, you forgot about that, didn’t you, Mas?”
“We needn’t mention that you are a princess, the daughter of a king. We will just list you as my wife. We will try that if you agree.”
“Do you need my agreement?” she asked. “I will always do everything that you want, Mas.”
“You are not a doll, Princess,” I said. “You are my wife, whom I respect fully, as I do myself. I need your agreement.”
“Of course I agree, Mas. Take me wherever you like and for however long you like.”
“No, that’s not the kind of answer I want, even though I am grateful for such a selfless statement. I need your answer as an individual in your own right.”
“I agree,” she answered seriously.
I looked at her face. There was no joking smile. Her lips were relaxed and her eyes calm. She did not look me in the eyes. She sat straight in her chair. Her unblinking gaze was fixed on the door.
For the umpteenth time I found myself convinced again that this obedient woman had been trained since childhood to be a fighter. Had her father, the king, not been exiled and separated from his people, perhaps she would already have strode the battlefield and have been defeated or killed.
“Can you ride a horse, Princess?”
She smiled. She was obviously remembering past times back home in Kasiruta. “We all had to learn to ride horses, across the fields, and through the scrub and forests.…”
“Who made you do this?”
“My teacher, of course. Can you ride a horse, Mas?”
“No doubt not as well as you. I have ridden one.”
She laughed happily, held my hand, and suddenly kissed it. I pulled it away and corrected her: “It is I who should kiss your hand.”
“I am not a European woman, Mas. I am your wife. I have no desire to be praised by men, not even by my husband. But you are the husband of a Moluccan woman.”
“And what does that mean for a woman of Molucca?”
“Her husband is her star, her moon, her sun. Without him, nothing will exist, including herself.”
“They have all sorts of strange ideas, these women from Kasiruta,” I interrupted. “So you give your agreement in your own right and not just as my wife?”
“I agree.”
“Then let’s start making preparations.”
And she began to prepare things for our departure.
One of the first things that we had to do was get all our travel papers and documents. While we were doing this, Sandiman and his friends had taken over the complete running of Medan. Hendrik Frischboten still acted as legal adviser.
Then suddenly something happened. I found out about it one day when I visited Meneer Meyerhoff’s place.
“I’m sorry, Meneer. I can’t provide you with a car today. All the taxis have been hired. You will have to take the train.”
“Twenty-five taxis all hired at once! Never has such a thing happened before. May I ask who was it that hired them?”
Meyerhoff just laughed.
When I arrived back at Buitenzorg, there was more news. All the best taxis in Betawi had also been hired out. All the taxis from Bandung and Betawi that were in good condition were being checked over in a workshop in Betawi. The best mechanics in all Betawi and Bandung had been mobilized. Then things became clearer. Eighty taxis had been hired by the State Secretariat. His Excellency the governor-general was going on an outing.
I cabled the news to Bandung and asked them to try to find out where he was going. It wasn’t clear. No one knew what were his destinations. What we did know was that the taxis had been hired for a week.
Such major preparations were very suspicious when there were no major events coming up. But no one would say what all the preparations were about.
The next morning I found Sandiman and Marko hotly debating a report that Marko had prepared. The governor-general’s entourage, comprising eighty taxis and ten private automobiles, had departed and was heading east, steadily eastward.
By the afternoon the news began to spread. Governor-General Idenburg was heading for Rembang, accompanied by several hundred high officials and their guards.
By the evening things were even clearer—they were going to Rembang to attend a funeral.
The governor-general himself, with a huge entourage, going to attend a funeral! Who had died in Rembang?
That night I stayed in Bandung so I could obtain a more complete picture of what was going on, and this is what emerged—the Bupati of Rembang had died. The Bupati of Rembang, the husband of the girl from Jepara, may her soul rest in peace!
The very next morning, the press, especially the journalists who supported the Ethical Policy, were all abuzz. They were amazed that the governor-general should go to so much trouble to travel so far to attend the funeral of a Native official who had been the object of so much public criticism. But they also realized that Idenburg w
as making a political statement: It was an illusion on the part of the supporters of the Ethical Policy to think that van Aberon could become governor-general!
With the news that the governor-general was attending the funeral, all the bupatis of Java made sudden preparations and headed off in that direction. Several journalists hired second-or third-class taxis and sped off to Rembang too. I could imagine what it would be like in that little town that had probably never seen a single automobile, when perhaps more than one hundred turned up. Everyone would throng to the main square to attend the funeral, and also to get a look at the automobiles. And they could fly along without horses! They could all spew out smoke and dust! They could all growl and roar. And they were all equipped with shiny copper carbide lamps.
And in the Medan office, people were no less busy. In the discussions it was none other than Marko who insisted: “We cannot let them get away with this without saying something.”
“The governor-general is trying to rehabilitate the name of the Bupati of Rembang,” followed on Sandiman, “and we cannot let it pass without comment, but we don’t need to go overboard.”
I just listened to them debate.
“We were among those who attacked him, the bupati, even if not directly. Not he himself personally, but his behavior. We shouldn’t be cowed just because the governor-general is attending his funeral.”
“Yes, but we shouldn’t be too extreme!”
“The governor-general is using money taken from the people—their tax money—to defend the Bupati of Rembang. Just think how much it cost for eighty taxis. And the other costs would probably amount to ten times the cost of the taxis. And even if he were paying for it out of his own pocket, we should still be objecting.”
The governor-general’s attendance at the funeral was surely a political act. Only a few people, so simple that they can be easily deceived, really thought that the governor-general was honoring the man who had died. He wanted to demoralize the Liberals who had got carried away with their illusions. He wanted things to be as they had been before, with none of this activity and movement. He was also sending a message to the Sarekat that the government of the Netherlands Indies honored and defended its officials and that the Sarekat therefore should not get too disrespectful toward them. Be careful! he was warning us.