Robert didn’t reply.
“Go, Nyo!” ordered Darsam.
Without answering, Robert Mellema turned around and walked off, dragging his sandals. He went into his room and didn’t come out again.
“Warn him, Darsam!” ordered Mama.
Darsam went after Robert into his room.
The world outside was beginning to clear. Robert left his room escorted by the Madurese fighter. He went out back, to the stables. He had put on jodhpurs and riding boots, and in his hand was a leather whip.
“You just sleep, Ann,” consoled Nyai.
“No.”
Nyai checked Annelies’s temperature and it was rising. The girl was falling ill. Her mother was very anxious.
“Put the sofa in the office, Darsam, so I can be with her while I work. Don’t forget the blanket. Then fetch Dr. Martinet.” She sat her child on the chair. “Be patient, Ann, patient. Do you really love him?”
“Mama, my Mama!” whispered Annelies.
“Falling sick like this, Ann! No, Mama won’t forbid you loving him. No, darling. You can marry him, any time you like, if he agrees. But now, be patient.”
“Mama,” called Annelies with her eyes closed. “Where’s your cheek, Mama; here, Mama, so I can kiss it,” and she kissed her mother’s cheek.
“But don’t fall ill. Who will help me? Could you bear to watch your Mama work like a horse?”
“Mama, I’ll always help you.”
“So you mustn’t get sick like this, darling.”
“I don’t want to be sick, Mama.”
“Your temperature is rising, Ann. You must learn wisdom, child; people can only do their best, then be patient in awaiting the outcome.”
Darsam moved the sofa into the office, but Annelies refused to be moved until she’d seen Robert leave on his horse. And her brother still wasn’t to be seen.
“Chase Robert, Darsam!” exclaimed Mama.
Darsam ran to the back. Ten minutes later that tall, handsome youth raced off on his horse without looking back, straight down onto the main road. And a quarter of an hour later Darsam drove off in the buggy to fetch Dr. Martinet.
Only then was Annelies willing to be led into the office. Nyai lay a brown-onion-and-vinegar compress on her daughter’s forehead.
“Forgive me, Ann, I’m not strong enough to carry you. Sleep now. The doctor will be here in a little while, and Robert will be back with news.”
Nyai went to the corner of the office, turned on the tap, and washed her face and combed her hair.
From under the blanket, Annelies asked in a whisper:
“Do you like him, Mama?”
“Of course, Ann, a good boy,” answered Nyai, still combing her hair. “How could Mama not like him, when you do? Any parent would be proud to have a son like him. And what woman wouldn’t be proud to be his wife one day? His legal wife. Mama too would be proud to have him as a son-in-law.”
“Mama, my own Mama!”
“So you shouldn’t worry about a thing.”
“Does he like me, Mama?”
“What boy wouldn’t be mad about you, Ann? Pure-Blood, Indo, Native. All of them. Mama knows, Ann. There’s no girl as beautiful as you. Don’t worry about a thing. Close your eyes.”
The girl’s eyes had already been closed for some time. She asked:
“If his parents forbid it, Mama, then what?”
“I told you not to worry about anything. Mama will arrange everything. Sleep. Stay quiet there. Let me get some milk. Remember, you must be healthy. What would Minke say if you became unattractive and gloomy? Even the prettiest girl looks unattractive when she’s sick.”
Nyai called out from the office to someone from the kitchen. Not long after, someone brought some hot milk.
“Mama will bathe you first. Then try to sleep, Ann.”
Nyai went to bathe. On her return she brought warm water and a towel and took care of her daughter.
Annelies didn’t say a single word.
Dr. Martinet came, examined her for a moment, and then gave her some medicine. He was fortyish, polite, quiet, and friendly. He was dressed all in white except for his gray felt hat. In his right eye was a monocle attached by a gold chain to the top buttonhole.
Darsam hurried around preparing breakfast for the doctor to eat in the office. And the guest breakfasted with Nyai.
“I’ll come back this afternoon, Nyai. Give her some breakfast before she sleeps, but no solids. Keep her away from any noise or commotion. Make sure everything is quiet. Sleep is her best medicine. Move her into her own room. Don’t leave her in the office like this. Or move the sofa into the middle room. Keep the windows and the doors closed.”
* * *
And what about Robert Mellema?
According to the people at Boerderij, eyewitnesses, and the accused at a trial later on, the events unfolded as I’ve assembled them below:
After leaving the stables, Robert raced the horse along the road. Then he turned right towards Surabaya. When he got onto the main road he pulled up his horse, looked left and right, and slowed down to enjoy the morning view. He probably felt resentful. Just to protect an adventurer like Minke he had to wake as early as this and go to a police station too. And what for? Let Minke disappear forever. The world won’t be any poorer, won’t have to undergo any extra suffering without him; a speck of dust brought in by the wind from who knows where, and wanting to dwell in his house for who knows how long.
The horse walked on unhappily because, of course, it hadn’t eaten that morning, hadn’t had its sweet drink yet. Robert hadn’t breakfasted yet either, and already he had to be off working.
The morning was more than just cool. The buffalo carts carrying the oil drums from Wonokromo hadn’t appeared yet in their usual long, seemingly unbroken convoy. Only the traders from the villages were out walking in a line, carrying on their backs produce for the markets of Surabaya.
The horse had covered about fifty meters at a slow walk. Robert’s thoughts were wandering everywhere. From behind the hedge on the right a voice could be heard calling out a greeting.
“Regards, Sinyo Robert.”
He pulled up his horse and had a look over the top of the hedge. He could see a Chinese man in striped pajamas smiling sweetly at him. The man had very little hair so that even his pigtail was very thin. When he smiled, his cheeks pulled upward and his eyes became even more narrow and slanted. Even his mustache was thin, long, drooping impotently at the ends of his mouth. His beard was also very thin, and out of a birthmark, a part of his beard formed a tassel and was darker.
“Greetings, Nyo,” he repeated, when he saw Robert was unsure whether to answer.
“Greetings, Babah Ah Tjong!” Robert answered politely, nodding and smiling.
“Regards, regards, Nyo. How are things with Nyai?”
“Well, Babah. This is the first time I’ve seen Babah. Where have you been all this time?”
“As usual, Nyo, much business. And how are things with Tuan?”
“Well, Babah.”
“I haven’t seen him around for a long time.”
“As usual, Bah, a lot of business. The door to Babah’s house is open today. The windows too. What’s going on today, Bah? Something special perhaps?”
“A good day, Nyo. A day for pleasure. Come on, Nyo, drop in.” Ah Tjong’s smile mollified Robert’s resentment and also his hatred of everything Chinese. He’d never had any desire to meet a Chinese. On any other occasion, he wouldn’t even have responded to a greeting from one, let alone enter his yard or house; but now there was something he really wanted to find out.
“Good, Bah, I’ll drop in for a moment,” and Robert turned his horse into his neighbor’s yard.
He had never met Babah Ah Tjong, so he had only guessed that this was who he was speaking to. Babah ran down to greet Robert. Robert saw the pigtailed man clap his hands. A sinkeh, a full-blooded, immigrant Chinese, a gardener, came running, and he took the horse from Robert’s hands, th
en led the horse around to the back of the house.
Robert and Ah Tjong walked together slowly along the rocky path towards that building whose doors and windows were usually never open. They entered. And now the front stairs vanished behind a curtain of coconut-husk cords. The front area, which had no veranda, was very large, furnished with a number of carved teak settees. In one corner there was a brown-spotted bamboo settee. The walls were decorated with different-sized mirrors with red Chinese calligraphy on them. A carved wooden partition closed off the mouth of the corridor in the middle of the building. Several big empty porcelain vases decorated the room; they stood on legs with a dragon curled around them. There were no floor decorations. Neither was there a picture of Queen Wilhelmina. There were no flowers anywhere in the front room either.
Ah Tjong took him to the bamboo settee, which consisted of three chairs and a long bench. The bench faced the front courtyard. The host sat there and Robert opposite him.
“Ah, Nyo, we’ve been neighbors so long and you’ve never come to visit.”
“How could I when the doors and windows are always closed?”
“Ah, Nyo, come now. How could this house be kept shut all the time?”
“This is the first time I’ve seen it open.”
“If it’s opened up like this, Nyo Robert, it means, of course, that I’m home.”
“So where do you go when it’s closed up?”
“Where do I go?” he laughed happily. “What will you drink, Nyo? What’s your usual? Whiskey, brandy, cognac? Chinese wine perhaps? White, yellow, warm, cold? Or Malaga wine? Or dry?”
“Ah, Babah, as early as this.”
“What’s wrong with that? With fried peanuts, heh?”
“I agree, Bah, agree completely.”
“Good, Nyo. It’s pleasing to receive a guest like Sinyo: handsome, dashing, not shy, young . . . Sinyo has everything. Wealthy . . . wah.”
He clapped hands haughtily, without moving his head, without turning, just like a sultan. From behind the partition emerged a Chinese girl in a long, sleeveless gown. The side of her gown was split high up, exposing her thigh. Her hair was braided into two pigtails.
Robert stared wide-eyed at the alabaster-skinned girl. His eyes couldn’t move from the split in her gown until the girl came up close to put the whiskey bottle, glasses, and fried peanuts on the table.
Ah Tjong spoke quickly in Chinese to the girl, who then stood up straight in front of Robert.
“Nyo, look this girl over.”
Robert was acutely embarrassed. He couldn’t speak. His eyes and face shifted away as if tugged by a demon.
“This is Miss Min Hwa. Sinyo doesn’t like her?” He cleared his throat. “Just out from Hong Kong.”
Min Hwa bowed, put the tray on the table, and sat on the chair near Robert.
“It’s a great pity, Nyo. Min Hwa can’t speak Malay or Dutch or Javanese. Only Chinese. What can one do? Why is Sinyo silent? Why? She’s next to you now. Ai-ai, don’t pretend Sinyo has never done this before! Come on, Nyo, you don’t need to be shy with Babah.”
Min Hwa pressed the whiskey glass to Robert’s lips, and he took it hesitantly.
Ah Tjong smiled sweetly, deliberately encouraging him. Min Hwa laughed shrilly and friskily, throwing her head back, her face muscles pulled tight, her mouth open and her pearl teeth, except for one which was gold, on display inside. Then the girl spoke quickly and loudly without pauses, without full stops. Robert didn’t understand; instead he became even more unsure of himself as the girl moved her chair closer.
Seeing Robert go pale and the glass in his hand almost fall, Min Hwa pushed the glass up to the tall youth’s lips again. And Robert swallowed the whiskey down without hesitating. Suddenly he started coughing—he had never drunk liquor before. Whiskey sprayed all over Ah Tjong and Min Hwa. They weren’t angry, but laughed happily.
“Another glass, Nyo,” the host suggested.
Min Hwa poured more whiskey into the glass and once more ordered the young guest to drink. He refused and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. He was even more embarrassed.
“Come on, Sinyo, you aren’t going to pretend you’ve never drunk whiskey before?” he teased. “You don’t like whiskey, you don’t like Min Hwa?” He waved his hand and the girl left, disappearing behind the carved partition. He clapped again.
Now another Chinese girl appeared, wearing a silk shirt and bright-colored pants. She wiggled as she walked up to the bamboo settee carrying a bamboo tray on which were various delicacies. She put it on the table, on top of the tray left by Min Hwa.
She bowed to Robert and smiled enticingly. Like the first girl, she wore lipstick. Before the delicacies were all laid out Min Hwa entered again, bringing a glass of clear water on a glass tray. She put it before Robert. Then she sat down again on the same seat as before.
“Ah, Nyo, there are two now. Which is the more interesting? Come on, don’t be shy. This one is Sie-Sie.”
Several carriages began arriving at the front of the house. The guests all came straight inside. Some wore Chinese clothes, others pajamas. All were men and had pigtails. Without worrying whether the host was there or not, they sat down straight away and began busily chatting, laughing, and gambling.
“It looks like there’s none you like, Nyo,” breathed Ah Tjong and he moved his hand to order them to leave to serve the other guests. “Sinyo doesn’t like Sie-Sie either. . . .” He stood and called Sie-Sie over.
As soon as the woman had come back, Ah Tjong sat her down next to Robert.
“Who knows, perhaps Sinyo prefers this one.”
And Robert still appeared very embarrassed, confused; wanting to, but afraid. Babah broke into laughter again, enjoying seeing the youth in his confusion. The other guests took no notice of the three of them sitting in the corner.
Sie-Sie started chatting in a loud, fast voice; then she began to seduce him, straightening his shirt and belt, pinching the crease on his shirt. Babah kept observing it all and laughing too. Robert shrank up still more. Then the two Chinese spoke noisily to each other. Robert still couldn’t understand a word.
“Very well, Nyo; Nyo doesn’t like either of them.”
Sie-Sie rose and disappeared behind the partition and Ah Tjong clapped four times.
Robert began to regret her going. He bowed his head. From behind the partition there now appeared a Japanese woman in a kimono with big flowers on it. She took short, quick steps. Her face was reddish and round and her lips were lipsticked and always smiling. Her hair was in a bun. She sat straight down beside the host. When she laughed, one gold tooth was visible.
“Look here, Nyo; here is another one.”
Perhaps because he didn’t want to have still more regrets, Robert got up the courage to look at the Japanese woman.
“Nyo, this is Maiko. Just two months out from Japan.”
Before he stopped talking, Maiko spoke in a high voice in rapid Japanese. Robert didn’t understand this either. Yet he got up the courage to gaze at her.
Ah Tjong put his hand across the woman’s mouth and said:
“This is my own one. Sinyo can have her if you like. Sit here, near her.”
Like a dog scared of his master’s stick, Robert stood and slowly moved over to sit on the bench, so Maiko was squeezed between them.
“So Sinyo likes this one? Maiko? Good.” He laughed, understanding. “In that case I’ll go. I’ll leave it up to Sinyo.”
The guest followed his host with his eyes.
Ah Tjong mixed with his many guests, playing cards, billiards, or mah-jongg. He walked around slowly, checking each table. Then he went back to the bamboo settee and stood in front of the couple, neither of whom could say a meaningful word to the other.
“Yes, it’s difficult, Nyo. Maiko doesn’t understand Malay, let alone Dutch. How come Sinyo has never mixed with Japanese ladies? You’ve never been to the Kembang Jepun, perhaps?”
“I’ve never even seen one before now, Bah.” Robert
had at last got up the courage to speak.
“A loss, Nyo, a loss for a youth with money. In nearly every Chinese pleasure-house like this, there is a Japanese miss. A loss, Nyo, a loss. You’ve never been into places in the red light district downtown? In the Kembang Jepun? In Betawi? Indeed you’ve really missed out on something, Nyo Robert . . . Japanese misses everywhere . . . a pity. Come on.”
He summoned Robert with an emperor’s flourish, and the three of them left the room, Babah out front, Robert behind him, and Maiko at the rear. Ah Tjong’s pigtail swayed a little at each step because it was so thin and it swept across the back of his pajama shirt. They passed the carved partition. Maiko continued to talk in her enticing voice and to walk in those short, quick steps. The smell of perfume filled the air.
They entered a corridor that was hemmed in on left and right by rooms, and that had no furniture except wall decorations. Here and there a few young Chinese girls were standing talking to each other. They were all elaborately dressed and neatly made up and greeted Ah Tjong with great respect, then Robert, but not Maiko.
Robert paid attention to every person. Short, tall, thin, fat, well built and weak-looking; they all wore lipstick and smiled or laughed.
“Such pretty girls are life’s pleasure, Nyo. It’s a pity you don’t like the Chinese ones.” He laughed piercingly. “All the rooms face each other. Sinyo can take whichever he likes, as long as the door is left unlocked.”
He opened a door so Robert could see inside. Its furniture was as good as that in his own room, and it was just as clean, only it wasn’t as big, and the bed was more beautiful.
“For Sinyo here is a king’s room, a room of honor, if Sinyo likes it.” He walked along again and opened another door. “Only Tuan Majoor may use this room. It happens he’s in Hong Kong at the moment.”