Child of All Nations

  “The police chief here thinks that now, with this written notice, our period of detention never existed.”

  These last few days Mama’s nerves had been so on edge that she was ready to fight with anyone at all, especially a servant of the state. I was reluctant to join in the fight. I could see that Mama, her face fiery red, was ready to erupt with rage.

  The police chief jumped on his horse and made his escape.

  “Why didn’t you say something?” Mama rebuked me. “Afraid?” Her voice subsided into a low rumble. “They need us to be afraid, Child, no matter how badly we Natives are treated.”

  “Ah, everything is all over now anyway, Ma.”

  “Indeed, all over. We were defeated, but still they have violated a principle. They have detained us illegally. Don’t ever think that you can defend something, especially justice, if you don’t care about principles, no matter how trifling an issue.”

  So she began to lecture me about principles—a lesson I had never learned at school, had never read about in books, magazines, or newspapers. My heart was not yet calm enough to receive such new teachings, no matter how beautiful and good. Yet still I listened.

  “Look, no matter how rich you are,” she began, and I listened half-heartedly, “you must resist anyone who takes what is yours, even if it’s only a clump of soil below the window. Not because the soil is so very valuable to you. A principle: Taking someone’s possession without permission is theft. It is not right; it must be opposed. And in the last few days, it is our very freedom they have robbed us of.”

  “Yes, Ma,” I answered, hoping that she would end her lecture quickly.

  But it wasn’t so easy to stop her and, if I hadn’t been there, she would probably have delivered it to whoever else was around.

  “Those who are not faithful to principles become open to evil, to have evil done to them or to do evil themselves.”

  Then she seemed to realize that her timing was wrong. “Go out and get some fresh air, child. You’ve been locked up too long. You look stale.”

  I went back into my old room, which I had shared so briefly with Annelies. Yes, I needed to go for a stroll, to get some fresh air. I opened the wardrobe to get out a change of clothes. All of a sudden I remembered Robert Suurhof. There was something of his in this wardrobe: a gold and diamond ring.

  Mama had thought it was a very expensive gift for a friend to give as a wedding present. The diamond alone was about two carats. Only somebody who was rich, or who really loved you, would give such a present. Mama’s guess was probably right—Robert Suurhof might indeed have given it as a sign of his love. Now that Annelies had gone, the time had come to return this thing to him, to his family. Now it seemed no mere coincidence that Mama had spoken of principles.

  After I’d dressed I opened the wardrobe and took out Annelies’s metal jewelry box. Robert’s ring wasn’t there. I checked the drawer again. It was lying unwrapped in a corner. I picked it up and looked at it closely.

  I had never taken much notice of women’s jewelry. Yet I could still enjoy the stone’s pure shining blueness, sparkling within itself, the rays multiplied by its polished walls. Why must I admire this destructive object?

  I put back the jewelry box, which I had just opened for the first time. Beside the box was a folder. Inside it was a Bank Escompto bank book, a pile of salary receipts from the business, and two letters from Robert Suurhof. They had never been opened! I fought my desire to open and read them. I had no right, I told myself. She had received those letters before she became my wife.

  I rose to leave for my walk, then stood hesitantly at the door. There was something I hadn’t done. Yes, of course: I usually read the newspapers before I went for a walk. Who knows how long it had been since I’d opened one? I returned to the desk, sat down, groped through the pile of mail. The desire to read was gone.

  Why was I feeling so listless? I forced myself to start on a newspaper. No. I couldn’t. I separated the letters from the rest of the mail and went through them one by one: from Mother, from my elder brother, from…Robert Suurhof for Annelies. Anger burned in my heart, my jealousy was awakened. From Sarah de la Croix, from Magda Peters, from Robert Suurhof for…from Miriam de la Croix, from…again from Robert Suurhof for Annelies. I began to sort more quickly.

  There were eleven letters from Suurhof. Scalding lava erupted into my heart. Lunatic! Damn him!

  I took a letter, tore it open, and read:

  Miss Annelies Mellema, Goddess of My Dreams…

  I didn’t go on. I rushed outside and ordered Marjuki to prepare a buggy. The ring in my pocket weighed me down. I would go and hurl this thing to the ground before his parents.

  “Quickly, Juki!”

  The buggy flew off in the direction of Surabaya.

  Neither my thoughts nor my vision would focus. All was blurred, without direction. Then, in the distance, I saw an old school friend, one who had never passed his exams. But even concern for my friends had faded away. Only after he had disappeared from sight did I feel ashamed for having treated a school friend so dishonorably. Perhaps he was one who had been sympathetic to us in our troubles.

  Near Kranggan I saw Victor Roomers strolling happily along, kicking the roadside pebbles. This Pure European fellow graduate didn’t seem to have anything to do that afternoon. He was wearing white shorts, white shirt, white shoes; as usual, he looked quite fresh. After three years of studying with him, I had grown to like him. He was a lover of athletics; he had a sportsmanlike attitude towards the world and never turned a sour face to it. And most important of all, he held no racial prejudices.

  “Hello, Vic!” I ordered Marjuki to pull the buggy over to the side of the road. I jumped down and shook hands. Victor invited me into a roadside drinks stall.

  He began quickly: “Forgive me, Minke, for not being able to help you in your difficulties. I came once to see you at Wonokromo, but the Field Police broke up any groups that collected around or near your fence. Some of our other friends also tried to visit you, but in vain. No one could help, Minke, especially not someone like me. I asked Papa about it all once. It had never happened before, he said, a Native daring to oppose a decision of the white court. All our friends regretted not being able to ease your suffering. We truly share your sorrow in all this, Minke.”

  “Thank you, Vic.”

  “Where are you off to? You look so pale.”

  “Would you like to come along?”

  “Very much, but I can’t just now. Where are you going?”

  “I’ve got a bit of business to fix up at Robert Suurhof’s house.”

  “A waste of time. What do you want to go there for?”

  “There is something—”

  “Robert’s vanished. Who knows where he’s gone,” Vic said casually, as if nothing of note had happened.

  “Vanished?” Somehow it didn’t feel right to use that word about a fellow graduate.

  “Yes. So you haven’t been reading the newspapers. Robert’s name wasn’t mentioned. It was Ezekiel’s name that was printed.”

  “You’re right, I haven’t been reading the papers. You mean the Ezekiel who owns the jewelry shop?”

  “Who else? Surely there is only one Ezekiel left in this world, eh?”

  The diamond ring jumped in my pocket, piercing my thighs and demanding to be taken to Ezekiel’s shop. So Suurhof had stolen it.

  “That’s the kind of person our friend Robert Suurhof is,” Vic said with disappointment. “He had big ambitions. He wanted to master the world in a week. In the end…”

  “Oh, so now it’s in the end, Vic. Robert stole from Ezekiel’s.”

  “If I were you, Minke, perhaps I wouldn’t be reading newspapers either. You’ve been through too much lately.”

  “Forget it, Vic. Tell me about Robert.”

  The diamond ring started jabbing and stabbing me in the thigh again. Imagine what would happen if a policeman stopped and frisked me; it would mean another trial.

 
“It’s just like any other crime story. It always starts with someone’s great ambition to overwhelm the world in a week. Pity the Suurhofs, Mr. and Mrs. Suurhof. Both were already so gaunt, perhaps they’re even worse now. Two of their children gave up school altogether just so Robert can graduate from H.B.S. Straight after graduating, he turns into a bandit, and a cheap bandit at that.”

  “What did he take from Ezekiel’s?”

  “Not even that! If he’d robbed Ezekiel’s shop, at least he’d have had some style. At least he would have had to fight several neighborhood guards or speak with a golden tongue and outwit them. All he did was rob a Chinese grave, shaming his school friends, his school, and his teachers. It’s lucky he’s disappeared and escaped arrest. Who knows where he is now?”

  “I know where he is. But keep on with the story.”

  “The story’s quite simple. Remember how he used to carry on about becoming a lawyer? His parents would never have been able to pay for it, especially as he’d have had to finish another five years of H.B.S. in Holland. His parents could never pay his boat fare, let alone his school fees there. They’re both ill; they’ve used up all their money for medicines. Ah! That Robert! He wanted to be rich, to have a wife of unrivaled beauty, to be number-one man, a lawyer—and all in a week. Straight after graduating he goes and knocks down the watchman at the Chinese cemetery, hitting him from behind and stealing from one of the graves.”

  So that’s the story, I thought. Damned bejeweled ring, that’s how you’ve come to be in my pocket! If somehow the police knew where to find you now.… I became a bit nervous. I asked: “How was the crime discovered?”

  “You’re going pale, Minke. Are you ill?”

  I shook my head.

  “He sold the booty to Ezekiel. It was discovered by the dead man’s family. They checked all the jewelry shops and found one of their things at Ezekiel’s; then they reported it.”

  Vic then told the rest of the story; it was easy to guess. The crime was exposed; the police searched Suurhof’s house. Robert had vanished. Nothing was found. No one knew where Robert had gone, not even his parents.

  “You say you know where he is, Minke?”

  “Well, at least where he’s been sending his letters from.”

  “Letters? To you?” he asked, amazed. His eyes questioned mine. Then, abruptly, he turned the conversation: “There’s no point, Minke. There’s no point complaining to his parents about those letters. You’ll only cause more grief.”

  I became suspicious. How embarrassing if he knew about Suurhof’s letters to my wife! How humiliated I would be as a husband! The ring itched in my pocket. Perhaps this cursed ring was the cause of all our misfortune.

  Victor could tell I was trying to hide something. “No, Minke, don’t go there. That scoundrel Robert is capable of anything.”

  I turned the conversation: “What are you doing these days, Vic?”

  “Just as you see me now: in and out of the villages. You know what I am? Don’t laugh. An agent for the shipping company that takes pilgrims to Mecca. Being a sinyo like this, it’s hard to get my customers’ trust. I intend to get some other kind of work, but…ah well. Hey, Minke, do you know how many pilgrims will travel to Mecca from South Africa this year? Five hundred! From an English colony! If I could just get five hundred people here in Surabaya…”

  He too wanted to avoid talk about Robert’s letters. He must have known they were addressed to my wife. So it was no secret. How did people know?

  “Say, Minke, would you like to swap jobs with me?”

  “Thanks, Vic. But I must get on now.”

  I left Victor Roomers in the stall. I left with an angry heart—hot, jealous, furious.

  The buggy raced off towards Peneleh. From others I met along the way I got the same story and the same advice: Stay away from the Suurhofs. One even said, straight out: “Don’t take any notice if you get letters from him. He’s crazy.”

  So all my school friends knew about the letters to Annelies. I was the only one who didn’t. How blind I had been.

  Willem Vos, who was working in a timber yard, even went so far as to say: “He made it clear that he was out to get you, Minke. Be careful. He hinted to some people at the graduation party that day that he would get you. But people like him would never dare say such things openly.”

  I deliberately avoided the girls from school. Now that they had graduated they were no longer school friends but maidens awaiting proposals from one official or another—Pure European if possible. I would only disturb their waiting.

  Late in the day, another friend pointed out: “Ezekiel has been kept under detention, yet Suurhof’s name has never even been mentioned. Why? Because Suurhof has European status. Ezekiel is a Jew from Baghdad, with only Oriental status.”

  At five-thirty in the afternoon, my buggy entered the Suurhofs’ front compound. My eyes went straight for the mango tree, where the family liked to sit and enjoy the afternoon air. Yes, there they were, sitting on the wooden benches around the tree trunk, talking amongst themselves.

  I had not been to this house since the incident between Robert and me when I first met Annelies at Wonokromo. When they saw my fine buggy enter the yard they all stood up and stared in amazement. I recognized Mr. and Mrs. Suurhof straight away. Both were thin and wasted from consumption. Of their twelve children, only Robert, the eldest, was missing.

  As soon as I alighted, Mrs. Suurhof called out in her Indo accent, “Ai-ai, Nyo, it looks like you’re a big tuan now!”

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Suurhof, Mrs. Suurhof, children,” I greeted them, thinking at that moment that my friends were right: I shouldn’t have come.

  The whole family looked thin and sickly. What was the use of showing them this cursed ring? And what was the use in protesting about Robert’s letters? Pent-up anger, fury, a hot and jealous heart—all were slowly pushed aside by pity.

  The children stood up and moved aside to make a place for me. They sat surrounding me in a horseshoe shape.

  “Ah! The newspapers were full indeed of reports about you, Sinyo,” Mr. Suurhof began.

  “Yes, but things have eased now. It’s all over.”

  “It’s a great pity that it ended so unhappily, Nyo,” Mrs. Suurhof added.

  “What can be done?” and the conversation ended.

  But our quiet reflections were interrupted. One of the children attacked with the news: “Brother Robert has gone. He’s not here anymore. Didn’t he say good-bye to you?” On seeing me shake my head he went on, “He’s gone to the Netherlands.”

  “Who said he’s gone to the Netherlands?” Mr. Suurhof quickly took over the conversation. “He went away just before Sinyo got married. You must know, as a child he was never at ease with himself. A young person, an H.B.S. graduate, restless, forgetful, never wanting to stay at home. Sinyo knows what he was like.” Old Suurhof threw a hard look towards his children. It seemed he meant to forbid them to talk about their elder brother.

  But one of the younger children didn’t understand the signals. He came up to me and passed on some proud news: “Yes, Bang, in the afternoon Bang Robert would work and in the morning go to H.B.S.”

  “That’s very fine. He was a very advanced pupil. What kind of work did he do?” I asked.

  “He never used to say, Bang.”

  “He might be restless,” Mrs. Suurhof took over from her children, “but we never believed there was evil in his heart. Yes, sometimes he was naughty, uncontrolled, Nyo—you know what he’s like from school, yes?—but a wicked boy? No.”

  The smaller child wasn’t going to be ignored. He went on with his report with great enthusiasm: “He sent us some money, Bang! Fifteen guilders!”

  “What are you talking about, Wim?” his mother reprimanded.

  “Yes, it’s true, Bang,” another little brother confirmed. “Mama used the money for clothes for us children.”

  “It’s true, Bang, they’re being made up now,” Wim added.

  “Children
!” Mr. Suurhof cut in. He wanted to say something else, but his coughing stopped him.

  “It’s true, Bang, it’s true.” Some of the other children supported their brothers.

  “That wasn’t from Robert. You heard wrong. The money is from your father’s pension,” Mrs. Suurhof scolded.

  “Back pay for a wage increase due five months ago, Nyo,” Mr. Suurhof explained, then tried to divert the conversation: “So Sinyo works for Nyai now?”

  “Yes, just helping around the place, sir, that’s all.”

  “How does it pay?”

  “Well enough, sir.”

  “Yes, it’s a big company; the salary would be big too.”

  “Bang, Bang,” Wim charged in head first again. “Bang Robert has been adopted by a wealthy merchant. He’s living in a three-storied building in Heerengracht.”

  “Where’s Heerengracht?” I asked.

  “Ah, fancy listening to children’s talk. Don’t take any notice, Nyo.”

  The eldest child—who hadn’t been able to continue his schooling—observed the conversation with big suspicious eyes. He listened to each of his parents’ words, and to what I said, but paid no heed to his younger brothers and sisters.

  “Robert said”—another child came forward—“after he becomes a lawyer, he’s going to open an office in Surabaya.”

  “So he’s living in Heerengracht now?” I repeated my question.

  “It’s not true, Nyo. Even my husband and I don’t know where he is now,” Mrs. Suurhof contradicted her children.

  Husband and wife were trying to avoid each other’s eyes, while doing their utmost to silence their children.

  The eldest, the one who hadn’t even graduated from primary school, didn’t relax his attention for a moment.

  “Go on, over there, fix some drinks for Nyo Minke.”

  The eldest moved slowly away from the mango tree, his head bowed.

  “Come on! All out the back! Check that all the dishes have been washed: You too!” she ordered the smallest. They all obeyed.

  “I don’t know where those children learned to fantasize about their brother,” said Mr. Suurhof, frowning at his wife.