by Di Morrissey
9
Sarawak, 1942
MARJORIE AND HER MOTHER, Evelyn, were silent as they followed the other women who shuffled, single file, towards the camp, knowing their world was to shrink to this wire-enclosed hot and dusty prison.
‘Looks like a damned chicken coop. All that wire,’ commented one of the women in a low voice.
‘I just want to sit down, my feet are raw,’ said another.
‘It’s barbed wire! Look at the guards up there.’
The group of women suddenly saw the tower where an armed soldier stood watching them approaching the main gates, where other soldiers waited. The women fell silent again as their internment became a reality. What shocked some of them were the pained and sad faces of the women already inside the camp, who had come to the fence to watch them.
One of them pointed at the new arrivals. ‘Bags! They have suitcases. Belongings. Have you got any food?’ she called out.
‘And medicine?’ cried another.
‘Oh my Lord. What’s going to happen? I haven’t got enough to share around. My baby needs it,’ said one of the new arrivals fearfully, clutching her bag, which was weighed down by precious tins of powdered milk.
In the new group, Evelyn walked slowly, bent over with pain and fever. Behind her, Marjorie, gangly legs and arms, her hair in a long plait, dragged her mother’s suitcase as well as her own bag behind her. Across her chest was slung a cotton bag. She looked bewildered. Her mother had tried to explain what might happen to them, but Marjorie really couldn’t imagine what being locked away might be like.
‘But why, Mummy? What did we do wrong? Where’s Daddy going?’
‘We haven’t done anything wrong, Marjorie. Don’t you forget that. I’m sure your father will be all right. It’s hard when grownups fight each other, when people make war on others because they want their country, innocent people get in the way. I’m afraid that’s us. We’ve got in the way of Japanese ambition. But we won’t be forgotten. We will be rescued and then life will go on as it always has. You’ll just have to be brave until we get out of here,’ said her mother in a tired voice.
As she stood in front of the gates, Marjorie looked at the strange fenced-off area. It didn’t look like the prison she’d imagined. There were no big cement buildings or high solid walls. ‘How long will we have to wait?’ she asked as the line of women came to a stop.
Three armed soldiers came towards them. There were raised voices, but Marjorie’s attention was diverted. It was as though everything around her had dissipated into soft focus while a bright spotlight shone on the scene further along the fence. A young boy, about three, was at the wire on his knees, trying to retrieve a soft toy he’d poked through the fence. Marjorie put down her bag and went over to him. She picked up the toy, which was a small blue elephant, and pushed it back through the wire. The little boy grabbed it from her and clutched it, regarding Marjorie with solemn blue eyes.
‘How did your elephant get out here?’ she asked him.
‘Run away,’ he said and then turned away as a woman called to him.
‘Philip! Come over here, please.’
One of the Japanese soldiers ran towards Marjorie and shouted at her. Frightened by this violent reaction, she returned to the other women who were being pushed through the gates. Marjorie picked up the two bags. She could see that Evelyn was at the end of her tether.
In the central dusty yard the women, several babies and children of various ages, were being marshalled into straggling lines by the shouting Japanese soldiers. They had been told to put their bags to one side, but now a soldier had begun to tear them open, scattering their contents. Some of the women began to weep, and when one of them raised an objection she was hit with the butt of a rifle. The woman slumped to the ground, clutching her bleeding head. As other women near her leaned down to help, they were swiftly stopped by angry soldiers.
The women stood paralysed, shocked at this treatment. They watched as their few possessions were examined. Some soldiers picked up food items and other things they considered valuable, they kicked the rest of the luggage around in the dust.
‘Damn them, what bastards,’ muttered one women. ‘They said we’d be well treated.’
Marjorie looked around her. The perimeter of this main square consisted of small huts roofed with attap and bamboo walls. They looked flimsy and obviously had few amenities. There were women and children inside them, watching through the holes cut in the walls. A Japanese soldier began shouting at them furiously.
‘What’s he saying?’ whispered the woman next to Marjorie, who only managed to shake her head in reply.
Then, as if in exasperation at their stupidity for not understanding him, the soldier suddenly began to shout at them in English, as if to small children.
‘You are now prisoners of Emperor of Japan. Emperor look after women and children. You obey rules, and you not get into trouble. You not obey, you will be punished.’ He began shouting a list of instructions and rules that were barely understood by the exhausted and frightened women. A few small children whimpered. A baby cried in hunger. After what seemed an age, standing in the hot sun, they were finally dismissed and the women began to scoop up their belongings. Marjorie knelt down and stuffed her mother’s clothes into her suitcase, tugging back a dress that another woman was trying to pick up.
‘That’s my mother’s.’
But the other woman was too distraught to notice or care.
An older woman appeared from one of the huts and introduced herself to the group. ‘I’m June Humphries. I’ve been elected as the camp representative. I act as the go-between with the Japs and the prisoners. Welcome to you all.’ She began to explain the camp routine as she assigned the women to the various huts.
Marjorie and her mother, clutching their belongings, walked to one of them and blinked in the dimness of its two dormitory rooms. The woman with the little boy that Marjorie had seen at the fence came forward.
‘Welcome to what we have, although it’s not much.’
‘My mother is sick. Can she lie down?’ said Marjorie.
‘We were told that more women were coming. We’ll have to sort out some better sleeping arrangements, but for now your mother can sleep on my bed. I see that you were able to bring a few things. Do you have any medicines?’ she asked.
‘I have some quinine and aspirin in my cotton bag. The guards took so many of our things,’ said Marjorie. ‘That’s not right.’
‘No, it’s not. There are many things not right here so we have to make the best of it. When Philip and I arrived, we had very little, except of course Philip’s elephant. By the way, I’m Bette Oldham. What’s your name?’
‘Marjorie Potts.’
‘And I’m Evelyn Potts. I’m so sorry to be a nuisance to you,’ said Marjorie’s mother, faintly from the direction of the bed.
Bette brushed the apology aside. ‘I understand, this must be a terrible shock for you, but you must get well as soon as you can. There is no doctor or proper hospital here, but we do what we can. There’s a sick bay, run by an English woman and a couple of nuns. They’re wonderful, but there’s only so much you can do in these conditions.’
‘What are the conditions like here?’ asked Evelyn.
‘Terrible, just look at these beds. They’re only bamboo slats and very uncomfortable, unless you have money to buy a thin mattress – then I guess they’re a bit better. To eat we get a cupful of rice a day, occasionally some terrible meat and greens that are slimy and inedible, although we eat them. Drinking water is precious. We catch as much as we can when it rains. The latrines are a nightmare. They are just a hole in the ground, over there behind that shack, and someone has to empty them out every day.’
‘How long have you been here?’ asked Evelyn. ‘Oh, you’re right. This bed is very uncomfortable.’
‘About three months now. I suppose we should be grateful that at least the bed is off the ground. Do you have a blanket or cover?’
‘Yes,’ said Marjorie quickly, opening one of their suitcases. ‘Mother made it.’
Bette fingered the embroidered silk coverlet Marjorie had taken from the suitcase. ‘That’s wonderful. Philip and I sleep under my sarong and a skirt. Where are you from?’
Marjorie leaned over her mother. ‘Could we have a drink of water please? We’ve had nothing for hours. We were living in Sarawak.’
‘My husband was the DO, up-country,’ sighed Evelyn. ‘When the war broke out we thought that we could stay hidden in the jungle, but eventually my husband realised that by staying there, we were putting the Dayaks at risk, so we gave ourselves up to the Japanese authorities. The Japs put us into a house in Kuching for a few weeks with some Chinese and other people, mainly foreigners who seemed to have come from all over. The house just got more and more crowded. Eventually the Japs decided that we should move. Marjorie and I were separated from my husband and we were loaded onto the back of a truck like cattle and driven about two miles from the camp. Then we were told to get out and walk the rest of the way carrying all our things in the heat. I don’t understand why they did that. They could just have easily driven us all the way.’ She looked tearful.
‘Just rest as best you can and try and get better,’ advised Bette. She looked at Marjorie. ‘How old are you?’
‘Twelve.’
‘You look younger. And that’s a good thing. The Japs might hate us, and they do, but they seem to like children, or at least tolerate them.’
‘It must be very hard for you and your son, just the same,’ said Evelyn.
‘Philip isn’t my son, he’s my nephew. We got separated from my sister on the docks in Singapore, so she got evacuated on a ship and we didn’t.’ She looked fondly at Philip. ‘Anyway, he’s my responsibility and he’s the only family I have right now.’
‘How terrible for you,’ said Evelyn, who lay back and closed her eyes. Bette and Philip took Marjorie outside. Two more of the new arrivals were standing outside their hut looking stunned.
‘How are we expected to live in these conditions?’ asked one of them. ‘The hut they put us in is overcrowded. There’s no food and we’re trapped in here.’
Bette nodded. ‘It’s hard. If you have money or things to sell, you can get by a little better. But there are many of us who came in with nothing so we try to share as best we can.’
‘Where do you sell things?’ asked the woman with bright curly red hair.
‘Traders are permitted to come to the fence to sell and barter every so often, but their prices are outrageous. The sentries let it go on because they get a cut of the profits. Be careful though, and don’t let people know if you have jewellery or money. Keep it hidden. You’ll find out that not everyone in this camp can be trusted.’
‘You seem to know a lot,’ said the redhead. ‘I’m Babs. This is Norma. Her husband was put in the men’s camp. Is there any way of making contact with them?’
‘I’m not sure how far away the men’s camp is. Very occasionally we see some of them march past to go to work somewhere. When they do, we shout over to them. The Japs don’t like it but we’re not going to stop it. The men call back their wives’ names, to let them know they’re okay. Sometimes, if you’ve got enough money, the traders will take them a message. But that could be very dangerous. I’m sorry, but I have to go now and work with the group in the cookhouse,’ said Bette. ‘There are lots of jobs that have to be done, cooking, keeping the camp clean. The Japs get really angry if they think that it’s untidy. Anyway, I know that June and her committee will appoint you to something.’
‘So, no mems here then,’ said Babs with a smile.
Bette shook her head. She liked this chirpy redhead. ‘We’re all equal here, though some think that they’re more important than others.’
‘There are always those who don’t want to pull their weight,’ agreed Norma. ‘So, is that lean-to affair over there the kitchen?’
‘Yes. I’m afraid it is.’
‘Well,’ said Norma cheerfully, ‘I’d better go and introduce myself.’
‘Is there anything that I can do?’ asked Marjorie. ‘I want to pull my weight, too.’
‘We try to keep the little kids around this area, so whoever is on kitchen detail can keep an eye on them. Marjorie, if you could watch them, or play with them as well, that would be wonderful.’
‘Sounds like you have a job,’ said Babs.
Bette leaned down and kissed Philip. ‘This is our new friend Marjorie. She saved your elephant, and she wants to play with you, so be a good boy, won’t you?’ Bette ruffled his hair and then quickly turned and followed Norma into the kitchen.
By the end of the day the new arrivals had ascertained the full horror of their surroundings.
‘We can’t live on this,’ exclaimed Babs, after she tasted the watery soup, which passed for that evening’s meal.
‘We do our best. Occasionally we have some protein – a scrawny chicken, if you can afford to buy one, sometimes meat, although we don’t ask where it came from,’ said Gloria, a tall imperious English woman who had been a matron of a large hospital in Penang and now was in charge of the sick in the camp. ‘Cockroaches can add a bit of a crunch,’ she added with a wicked gleam in her eye.
Norma shuddered.
Marjorie noticed that Bette had put a portion of her own food onto Philip’s plate and tried to entertain and distract him during their meagre meal. Marjorie did the same for her mother, but Bette noticed and spoke to her.
‘Marjorie. You can’t give your nourishing food to your mother. You’ll get sick and then you’ll be of no use to her. Your mother will get better. She just needs time and rest to get over that terrible journey.’
As time went on, food remained the greatest problem for the interned women. Those who had some money bought or traded extras from the local traders who appeared at the fence: a tough chicken, some fresh vegetables or the luxury of a few eggs. Usually these extras weren’t shared, but Marjorie noticed that when any of the children were given treats, they were always happy to share the riches of an egg or banana with their friends.
A routine was established, a roster system was put in place and each woman’s strengths and weaknesses were quickly known and accepted. Evelyn was still frail and unable to do the physically hard work around the camp, but she worked in the kitchen helping to prepare food. Gradually, like many of the other women, she sold pieces of her jewellery to supplement her and Marjorie’s diet.
One day, Evelyn took Bette aside. ‘I’ve managed to acquire two chickens! There’s not much meat on them but we can make up a soup for us all.’
‘Evelyn, how fantastic. Philip certainly could use some meat. So could you.’
‘And you, Bette. You’re so thin and you work so hard, and I watch how you give the best of your food to Philip. If you get sick, then where would he be?’ asked the older woman. ‘And I know you take a little bit of dry rice from the ration before it’s cooked each day and keep it. Why do you do that?’
‘Emergency supply,’ said Bette ruefully. ‘I’ve saved a couple of cupfuls. Just in case the rations get reduced or we need it sometime. It’s not stealing. I take less of the cooked rice. Philip is growing so fast, he’s all skinny legs and arms.’
‘Well, we can all enjoy chicken soup tonight. I’ll ask some of the others to share as well,’ added Evelyn.
‘I wish I had something to sell,’ sighed Bette. ‘I’ve sold all I had to get us a mosquito net and some clothes for Philip. And he’s almost grown out of his shoes. I wish we had something we could make shoes from.’
‘Rubber? I’ve seen kids in the kampongs and villages wearing shoes made from bits of latex,’ said Evelyn. ‘Surely we might be able to get someone to find some for us. It’s a thought anyway.’
‘Who knows what is happening on the rubber plantations? I wonder what has happened to my brother-in-law’s place and its staff. If the Japs are there they won’t be looking after the trees. It’s all too depressin
g to think about,’ said Bette. ‘But speaking of the Japs, have you noticed that the soldiers aren’t exactly treated like kings by their commanding officer, Major Sakura? He’s always shouting at them and I’ve seen him slap a few faces. Maybe they don’t like being here any more than we do.’
‘I don’t care about them. They live ten times better than us,’ said Evelyn. ‘But it’s the surprise searches I can’t stand. I don’t know what they expect to find. As if we’d have weapons or radios, or do they think that we’re digging a tunnel under the fence? And they make us stand for hours outside in the boiling sun while they do it. It’s inhumane.’
Bette didn’t answer. There were some secrets in their camp that were known only to a small group of the women and Bette was one. Some of them had thought it imperative that a record was kept of their imprisonment and so they kept a diary. Bette wrote small entries and added sketches to it. Paper was hard to come by but one of the women had managed to steal some from the Japanese. They kept the diary well hidden and constantly moved it to different locations to avoid it being found. All the women taking part in maintaining the diary knew that they would be severely punished if it was found, but they all thought the risk was worthwhile. Some day they would be released and the world would know what they had experienced.
‘It’s Marjorie’s birthday soon,’ continued Evelyn. ‘What can we possibly do for it? She’ll be thirteen and this isn’t how I imagined celebrating the occasion.’
‘I’ll talk to Babs and some of the others. See what we can come up with,’ said Bette. ‘I think we should celebrate Marjorie’s birthday. It’s important to her and it will show the Japs that we can’t be intimidated all the time.’
The women in Bette’s hut embraced the idea of a celebration, and they quickly became involved in producing a surprise birthday party for her. An evening skirt of shot taffeta was produced, and a top was cut down to make a party outfit for Marjorie. Someone else produced a glamorous hair clip for the occasion.