“Is all this true, Doctor?”
“You must help me think it out.”
“Is it proper for an H.B.S. student to be involved in work like this?”
“Ts, ts, ts, you’re the one who has something at stake here. And, Dr. Minke, do you think I’m just making up a fairy tale? You’re educated: Try to prove me wrong. That’s why I needed you here. You are closer to them. It is you who must investigate what is happening; it is you who must understand what’s happening. I’m just trying to give you a starting point. You are an adult. Furthermore, only you can be her doctor now. Not Martinet. She, that girl, loves you; and love comes from a source of power that has no equal. It can change people, destroy them or cause them to cease to exist, build them up or smash them down. It’s her love for you that I put my hope in; my hope that she will be able to free herself from her mother, so she can develop a personality of her own. From my most recent observations, from her deliriums, from the look in her eyes, it is clear that she has surrendered her fate to you. This is no mere guess, not just some wild supposition.”
His analysis was becoming increasingly interesting—because it did indeed relate to my personal concerns.
“Once she begins to say no to her mother, it means that there is some movement towards change occurring inside her. Of course one result will be pain, just as with all births. Nyai herself has unconsciously prepared the way for such a birth within the psyche of her daughter: She hasn’t opposed Annelies’s relationship with you, and has rather suggested it and made positive proposals, and even enthusiastically encouraged it. But there is still something else that is troubling her.”
(There then followed, I think, a number of sentences which I couldn’t quite understand because of my own limitations. I haven’t noted these down here.)
“Annelies, your sweetheart, carries some burden that weighs heavily on that fragile heart of hers. All roads have been opened to you, cleared by her mother. It appears that it is you, Mr. Minke, whom Nyai wishes as her son-in-law. And it looks as if you approve of Nyai’s wish. Even so, whatever it is that is burdening the girl’s heart should also be of concern to us. She has been able to capture your heart, if I’m not mistaken. She should have the right to feel happy. But no, Mr. Minke. On the contrary, she is suffering very, very greatly: afraid of losing you, whom she loves with all her heart. This is piling up all sorts of sufferings on her. She could go mad, Mr. Minke, I’m not joking, a person could go insane, become totally unbalanced, lose her mind, go crazy.”
He stopped talking. He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face and neck.
“Hot,” he said. Then he stood up and went over to the corner of the room where he wound up the spring of the fan. After it started up and began cooling down the room he came back and sat down. “For me, if treated just as an intellectual problem, this is all very absorbing; on the other hand, to see such youth and beauty dominated by uncertainties and fears is so saddening . . . do you understand what I mean?”
“Not yet, Doctor, these fears . . .”
“We’ll come to them in a minute. Perhaps ever since Eve, beauty has excused the deficiencies and imperfections of people. Beauty lifts up a woman over her fellow women, higher, more honored. But beauty, and indeed even life itself, is all in vain if it is dominated by fear. If you still don’t understand, I’ll tell you what the problem is: She must be liberated from her fears, all her fears.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Don’t just give me yes, yes, yes. You are an educated person, not a yes-man. If you’re not of the same opinion as me, then speak up. It’s by no means certain that what I’m saying is correct. I’m not a psychologist by training. So if you have different opinions then say so frankly so that our work of curing her will be easier.”
“I have no opinion at all, Doctor.”
“Impossible. Come on, out with it.” I remained silent. “It’s not too hot now, is it? Look, Mr. Minke, in science, the word embarrassed has no place. People should not be embarrassed of being in error or doing something incorrectly. Errors and mistakes like these will consolidate the truth and so also assist in our researches.”
“It’s true, Doctor; I have no opinion on this.”
“I know you’re trying to hide something. Educated people always have an opinion, even if a mistaken one. Come on, out with it.”
His transparent, marblelike eyes gazed at me. He placed his two hands on my back.
“Look into my eyes, speak frankly. Don’t make things more difficult for me.”
I gazed at his eyes, and because of their transparency it was as if I could see through into his brain.
“With respect, tell me. Please don’t make me fail in this work of mine.”
“Doctor,” I began, “truly, this is the first time I’ve ever heard an analysis of this kind. I’m still amazed by it all; how can I come to any conclusions? About Mama and Annelies, yes, I have often felt that there are some problems. Especially about Robert. My feelings about all this, my feeling mind you, not my opinion, or at least not yet my opinion, is that there isn’t much wrong in what you’ve just said. On the contrary, I think it will help me to understand. Am I mistaken?”
“Good enough and not mistaken. In science, humility is sometimes needed. But only sometimes. But you don’t need to be humble when answering my questions. But, yes, forgive me if it seems I’m acting like a prosecutor. I’m absolutely sure that all this is in your interests too.”
The spring in the fan had almost wound down, so he went over to the corner and wound it up again.
“Good,” he said, without sitting down. “Well now, please listen: What I’m about to say may be of some use to you in any deliberations at home. First of all, about her fear of losing you. This whole matter is in your hands. No one else can assist. As soon as she sees signs that you are going to leave her, she’ll begin to become anxious. So you must not let her see any such signs, let alone actually leave her. To leave her would mean to break her.” He took a pencil from his desk. “Like this,” and he snapped the pencil in two. “This broken pencil can still be used. But not a broken psyche, Mr. Minke. If such a person continued to live, she would be a burden upon all. If she dies it would be to everyone’s regret. Haven’t I already said you are her doctor? It could happen that, should you wound her love, you might end up killing her instead. Now I’ve told you, as clearly as I could. Without embarrassment, without fear, without self-interest. It’s up to you now whether you become her doctor or her killer. By telling you this my own responsibility diminishes.”
Now he sat down again. He put the broken pencil on the table. Then he gazed at me again, perhaps to convince me he wasn’t just joking.
“Yes, Doctor.”
“On the other hand, Mr. Minke, it is precisely because she has fallen in love with you that she is beginning to be born as a personality in her own right, because she is being confronted with a problem that is totally personal. This time no one else can give any commands. It is her birth as a personality in her own right that has made her fall ill.”
I didn’t understand any of this. I gazed into his eyes. I don’t know why but all of a sudden I felt a surge of suspicion towards him, as a European. He seemed to know what I was feeling and hurriedly added:
“Once again, it is by no means certain that I am. correct in what I’m saying, even half correct, let alone wholly. But while you have no opinion of your own, it would be wise for you to accept what I’ve said as a guide. So you do not become confused. A temporary guide.”
He didn’t resume his lecture for some time. I reckoned he was having doubts. The thought gave me great pleasure. At the very least I could breathe easily again. It was true, of course, that they were only words that he was pouring out at me. But it felt as if I were the anvil upon which he was hammering out some new understanding.
“Yes, Doctor.” It was naturally I who began, but only as an indication that I was not an anvil without spirit.
“Ye
s.” He spoke as if it were a complaint. And a heavy exhalation escaped from his chest, which was tight with problems. “Yes, this is all just conjecture at the moment, conjecture based on a number of facts,” he resumed in defense of himself, asking for forgiveness at the same time. “I won’t say any more until you have your turn: Now you must talk to me. In what room do you sleep?”
He knew I could not hide my embarrassment. Even at school such a question would be considered insolent; no one would ever question me like that.
“In science, embarrassment has no value, not even a tenth of a cent. Mr. Minke, help me. Only the two of us together can rid her of those fears. So, where do you sleep?” I didn’t answer. “Very well. You are embarrassed—a feeling without value. But so my conjecture has been proved. So Nyai does desire the safety of her daughter. That is why you are embarrassed to tell me. You have already slept in the same room with her. I’m not mistaken?”
I could not look at his face anymore.
“Don’t misunderstand me,” he said hurriedly. “I have no desire to interfere in your affairs. For me the only important thing is Annelies’s well-being, her well-being as a patient—and therefore also, of course, your own and Nyai’s well-being. All I hope from you is assistance. Aid in understanding. My guess needs to be verified. That is the only medicine for her. Your personal confidences and those of all my patients are safe and secure with me. I will always be a doctor, you are one only temporarily. Tell me about it.”
To give me a chance to put myself in order, he went out to the back room for a minute. He returned carrying lemon drink and poured some into a glass for me.
“Why do you serve this yourself, Doctor?”
“There is no one else in this house. Only me.”
“No washer or houseboy?”
“No.”
“You do everything yourself?”
“A servant comes and works three hours a day, then goes.”
“Your food?”
“A restaurant looks after that. Let’s continue. Have a drink first. I know you need to get up some courage.” He smiled sweetly.
And I had no courage.
“When the need arises,” he began to advise me, “you must dare to learn and learn to dare to look upon yourself as a third person. I don’t mean a third person in the grammatical sense. Look: As a first person you think, plan, give orders. As a second person, you consider, you reject, or on the other hand you could approve, accept what the first person suggests. And the third person—who is that?—that is you as somebody else, as a problem”—he tapped the table with his fingertips—“as an actor, as somebody else that you see in the mirror. Tell me now about yourself as the third person, as seen in the mirror by yourself as first and second person.”
“What must I tell you?” I asked once again.
“Anything at all about your relations with your patient.”
“How must I begin?”
“So you are willing. Let me lead the way into the problem. Actually it’s not that you cannot begin, but rather it’s because you, as second person, are not fully willing. Let us begin. You have begun to live in the same room as Annelies. Now, continue on yourself.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Excellent. Nyai has never forbidden you or become angry because of this?”
“You are not mistaken, Doctor.”
“It’s not I who is not mistaken, but Nyai. She has done the better thing in looking after the well-being of her daughter. So she carried out that advice. Let’s go on further. You sleep separately or in the same bed?”
“Not separated.”
“When did this begin?”
“Two or three months ago.”
“Long enough to get to know Annelies’s major fears. Have you had intercourse with Annelies?”
I shook.
“Why are you shaking? Listen well: Here the problem is the important thing. Who knows if a similar problem will confront us some day in the future? Do you need another drink?”
“Excuse me, Doctor, I need to visit the toilet.”
“Of course,” and he showed me the way.
I met no one inside or outside the house. Still and silent like a graveyard.
Once in the bathroom I washed my face. I wet my hair. I felt the refreshing coolness of the water and my heart was refreshed too. I wiped away the dripping water with my handkerchief. Then I used the comb and mirror that was there. That is the third Minke.
As soon as I had sat down before him, he resumed:
“The more you try to hide things, the more tense you will become.”
He was becoming increasingly able to peep into my psyche. I became nervous again. And there was nowhere I could hide my face.
“Come on. Give me reason to be even more thankful to you. I don’t need to ask questions anymore, do I? You can continue the story by yourself.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t.
“Very well, if you still need a guide. You have slept in the same bed with her. You have had intercourse with her. Then you found out she was not a virgin. You had been preceded by some one else.”
“Doctor!” I exclaimed. Without my realizing it, my nerves gave way and I began to sob uncontrollably.
“Yes, cry, Minke, cry like a baby; still innocent like at the time of your birth.”
Why was I crying like this? In front of another person? Neither my mother nor my father? What was it that was worrying me? Perhaps I did not want my secret, our secret together, to be found out by others?
“So my guess was right. Truly you do love this girl. Her loss is your loss. You have lost something, and you want to hide that loss from the world. She was no longer a virgin. Yes, keep on crying, but answer my question. It’s not the last question. It’s important to get a picture of Annelies’s first sexual relations in order to understand its influence upon her. A person’s first sexual relations are soldered into the emotions of human beings, and can indeed determine a person’s sexual makeup. No, no, that’s not quite right. I should have said: It can determine a person’s sexual makeup in the future. Now the question is: Has Annelies ever said or even been willing to say who it was? That first one? Or more accurately the first of those before you?”
“I can’t, Doctor,” I exclaimed in my pain.
“The third Minke must come forward. And it’s not the last question yet. Who was he?”
I didn’t answer.
“So you do know who he or they were?”
“Not them, Doctor, him.”
“Very well, him!” He closed his eyes as if absorbing something. Then that question of his, which I did not wish at all to hear, struck like a thunderclap bringing me to consciousness: “Yes, him. Of course, him. Who was he?”
“Ah, Doctor, Doctor!”
“Very well, you don’t need mention his name. Do you consider this person to be a good person or not? I don’t mean in relation to sexual passions but in his day-to-day behavior.”
“I don’t dare, Doctor, I haven’t the right to judge.”
“It seems that you consider everything to be a personal secret or a family secret, or a secret of your future family at least. Yes, it’s very moving—this loyalty of yours to all the members of your family or your family-to-be.” He looked the other way as if to give me some freedom to use my own face. “At the very least I can make a guess at who the person was, especially now that I’ve seen your reaction. You are still young, very young, and it is you—even if only temporarily—who are Annelies’s real doctor. So you must be strong. You are fond of her, even if you’re unwilling to say you love her. I myself prefer to use the latter term. You have shown you are willing to accept the consequences of her deficiencies, to accept responsibility for her well-being. No matter what happens, you will not let go of her, because thousands of eagles will destroy her. Her beauty is indeed extraordinary, that Creole beauty which conquers people, no matter what country they come from. You will end up making her your wife, whichever way you look at it. Be a good d
octor to her, now, tomorrow, and forever. The older we become the more complex becomes this life which confronts us, so the more courageous we must be in facing it.”
The longer he spoke the clearer became the vision of Robert Mellema, scorning and insulting me, threatening me, glancing out of the corners of his eyes at me and waving his fists.
“Yes, it’s your own reaction which has confirmed my guesses. If you’re unprepared either to confirm or deny them, what can I do?”
“Doctor, Doctor . . . her own brother, Robert Mellema.”
The glass of lemon drink in my host’s hand fell to the floor, broken. I jumped up from my chair and ran out to my buggy.
Dr. Martinet visited us several more times. Usually he came in the late afternoon when Nyai Ontosoroh and Annelies had finished work. They all sat in the front yard chatting and listening to the music from the phonograph. I could see his buggy enter the compound and would come out to meet him after I had bathed.
After that earthshaking interview, about which I never told anyone except my diary, my respect for him became deeper and more unqualified. I didn’t just look upon him as a doctor of great skill, a scholar of great humanity, but also as somebody who was able to plant the seeds of new strength within me. How he strived to understand other people! Not only to understand, but to hold out a helping hand—as a doctor, as a human being, as a teacher. He was a friend of humanity—a title that Magda Peters was to use for him some time later. He could show his friendship in so many different ways. And no matter in what way he did it, people were moved to put their trust in him. Sometimes I felt ashamed that I had been suspicious of him, even though it was my right to feel that way.
After observing him for a long time, my estimation of his age changed. Not in his forties, but in his fifties. His face was always that fresh, reddish color, and young. No lines of age disfigured his face. Every one of his statements was interesting and had content. He was a very clever storyteller, and without their knowing, he noted down people’s reactions to his stories as a way of becoming acquainted with and understanding his patients. That’s my guess anyway. I could be wrong.