The Cost of Sugar

by Cynthia McLeod

  During the previous five years the bush-negroes or Alukus had raided more than thirty plantations and had been involved in heavy fighting with the colonial army on at least twenty-five occasions. There was not the slightest question of the troops actually knowing what they were doing. They would go on an expedition lasting several weeks to the Alukus’ area in the hope of killing or catching a few. That must be possible. Such dumb creatures as the negroes: no problem at all. The men who were recounting all this had to laugh. One of them said, “Whites think that the negroes are stupid. Well, we let them see who’s stupid.”167

  Caesar, Alex and all the others laughed, too, and answered, “Yes, we let them see who’s stupid.”168

  It was long after midnight when Alex crept back home. In his small room in the grounds in the Gravenstraat he lay awake a long time, thinking back over everything he had heard that evening. What would Caesar do, he wondered. What would he do if he were in Caesar’s position? He didn’t know …

  ALEX

  The following evenings Alex went time and time again to the Zwarte Jagers’ camp. The men sat talking for hours on end, usually in a whisper so that the white soldiers on duty would not hear them. Caesar himself said little, and Alex hardly spoke, either, but he listened intently to all the stories. Especially the porters, who sometimes secretly joined the Boninegroes, had much to tell, and in this way Alex could form a good impression of what was happening there in the bush.

  In April an extensive commando force had been sent out under the command of Captain Oorsinga and Lieutenant Keller. That was common knowledge. The order was to take the escapees’ fort. At the beginning of May, Oorsinga had let it be known that they had reached the fort. It had then seemed that taking the fort would be just a question of days. It was now the end of June and the soldiers had still not succeeded. What had happened was that the seriously wounded Captain Oorsinga had been replaced by Captain Halthaus.

  Then suddenly the news swept through Paramaribo that the group was returning, mission unaccomplished. Only half their original number, the others having succumbed to wounds or disease, they dribbled back to the town, starving and exhausted. They had had to abandon the siege. With the bush-negroes’ howls of derision and calls of, “Shall we just come and lie in your arms?” ringing in their ears, they had undertaken the ignominious journey back to base. The slaves could not help laughing their heads off when they heard this story and saw the bedraggled troop of soldiers plodding along the streets. Ha, those bakras (whites) were getting their comeuppance. What had they expected?

  The desperate government now decided to grant a general pardon to everyone who lay down his weapons and gave himself up to the whites. How Baron, Boni and Joli-Coeur and all their men and women laughed at this! Surrender, now it was so clear that they were on the winning hand? Never! They wanted no general pardon. They wanted real peace, on both sides, with demands from their side. If that were impossible, they would fight on until the whole country was freed from these wretched bakras.

  In the camp Alex heard what had happened. This was narrated by some porters who had been on the expedition. Suppressed laughter, for the bakras must not notice anything. One of the men recounted …

  The soldiers had almost reached Buku but had been unable to get through the swamp that lay in front of the village. If they fired, then the Bonis returned the fire. Captain Oorsinga was hit in the neck by a bullet very early on. While the troops were stationed at the fort, the Alukus took the opportunity to carry out further raids on plantations. The Rozenbeek Plantation was raided, the whites were murdered and the slaves were freed. At the end of June it was the turn of the Poelwijk Plantation. All the ammunition and gunpowder were taken from Poelwijk, and Baron, who had been the leader of that attack, let it be known that all plantations in the Cottica and Boven-Commewijne area would disappear.

  In the meantime the soldiers at Buku had been trying to construct a kind of bridge over the swamp. Much jeering from the Bonis from behind their fortifications. Every time a length of bridge was completed it was shot to bits, and several soldiers were wounded as well. And it rained and rained! Everything in the military camp was wet through. Not a thread of what the soldiers were wearing was dry. Those who were not wounded became ill. In addition, the food turned mouldy and rotted.

  In the evening, the soldiers could hear the Bonis feasting, singing and dancing in their village. During the day they were always provoking the soldiers and ridiculing them. They asked, for example, whether they would like some of their gunpowder and guns to be able to shoot.

  Twelve negroes from the Free Corps were allowed close to the village for negotiations. They were first offered the chance to join the Maroons. When they refused, eleven of them were shot dead. The twelfth was sent back with an ear and his hair cut off and the message that the bush-negroes feared neither the whites nor the Black Hunters.

  Now the bakras were really and truly scared. You could see the fear in their eyes. In many households the head of the house went to bed with a pistol to hand. Some other families padlocked the doors and windows of the slave huts from the outside at night to prevent the slaves leaving. The whites were expecting an uprising any moment now. Men often came to talk with Masra Rutger at his office. Some of them wanted the masra to send Alex away from his seat near the door, but Rutger always answered that he saw no reason to do this.

  Yet again a detachment was sent to the Marowijne-Cottica district. Governor Nepveu had placed all his hope in the Zwarte Jagers Corps. When Alex wanted to visit Caesar in the camp again, all the Redi Musus had departed. Caesar was also gone. The detachment was under the command of Captain Mayland and the hundred-and-eighty Zwarte Jagers or Redi Musus were under the command of the young lieutenant Frederici.

  Everyone followed these events anxiously. In every house the slaves listened at the doors and tried to hear what the bakras thought was happening. In their secret language the slaves were able to pass messages to each other. In the grounds of every house there were whispers about those bush-negroes who were the bosses and would never be defeated by the bakras. Plans were made in secret. To well and truly defeat the bakras they would have to do what the bush-negroes had been doing.

  Most of the plans were hatched on the plantations. Alex knew that in the town some slaves felt too attached to their owners to want to harm them. He knew for certain that none of the Le Chasseurs’ slaves would turn against them, himself included. Misi Elza and Masra Rutger had always been good to them. If necessary, he would certainly help and protect them, but on the other hand he would take the side of his own people if it came to the crunch. Then, all at once, in September, came the news … Buku had fallen! Fort Buku was in the hands of the military. That was surely impossible? What a disappointment. The slaves could and would not believe it. Buku could never be taken. But it was true, Buku had fallen. The wretched bakras were so pleased. They had reason anew to feast, drink and laugh out loud and to make jokes about how the army had got those dumb negroes.

  When the soldiers under Captain Mayland’s command and the Zwarte Jagers under the leadership of Lieutenant Frederici returned they were given a heroes’ welcome by the inhabitants of the town and very soon everyone in Paramaribo knew how Buku was captured. The story was told everywhere and was of course embellished often enough. The truth was this …

  The military had closed in on Buku. When Baron saw them, he hoisted a white flag next to the yellow one, not in surrender but as a sign of provocation. The Zwarte Jagers managed to find a path where the swamp was relatively shallow, only about the depth of a foot under the water. Captain Mayland staged a mock attack. Baron deployed all his forces at the focus of the attack. In the meantime Frederici with the Zwarte Jagers went along the newly discovered path on the other side and climbed over the palisades. A terrible bloodbath followed, with about forty negroes being killed and fifty being taken prisoner, including twenty-six women and nineteen children. A large proportion of the Bonis managed to escape, including the lead
ers Boni and Baron.

  When Alex heard that the men had returned he hurried to the camp the same evening. There he looked for Caesar, but could not see him anywhere. Alex asked one of the men if he knew where Caesar was, but he answered, “I don’t know.”169

  Where might Caesar be, Alex wondered. Had he returned, Alex asked another Redi Musu. This person answered that Caesar had definitely not returned. Alex then asked whether Caesar was dead, to be given the answer again, “I don’t know.”

  It was highly frustrating. Finally, Alex went looking for two men whom he knew had known Caesar well. One of them he did not find, hearing that he had succumbed to his injuries. The other sat silently in a corner with his arm in a sling. When Alex asked him what had happened to Caesar, he answered, “No-one knows. No-one has seen Caesar any more. We don’t know whether he is dead, because no-one has seen his body. We also don’t know whether he has deserted to join the bush-negroes. No-one saw anything. Since the time we arrived at Buku Caesar has never been seen again.”170

  Alex walked in silence back to his room. Caesar was gone, gone for ever. He did not know what to think, but he did know that he would never see his friend again. Later Alex heard that more than thirty Redi Musus had deserted to join the Boni-negroes during the first year, and in the case of a further twenty it was not known whether they were dead, had fled or had gone over to the Alukus.

  Buku had fallen! Yes, Buku had fallen, but the Bonis were not yet beaten. The plantation owners would discover that soon enough.

  RUTGER

  The fall of Buku was the topic of conversation for several weeks. The colonists were relieved. Thank God! The wretches in the bush had been beaten. One could now continue peacefully with all the festivities and other pleasures. One feast after another was organized. There was money enough. No-one was as rich and affluent as the Suriname planter.

  Feasts in Paramaribo and feasts on the plantations. On Sunday 27 September 1772 thanksgiving services were held in the church to thank God for the defeat of Buku. The colonists and planters now had nothing more to fear. The few escaped negroes who wandered round the bush in small groups could no longer be a danger. No, every reason for festivities.

  In the meantime the state troops had already been recruited in Europe, and by the time news of the fall of Buku reached the Netherlands they had already embarked and were on their way to Suriname: well-formed battalions of marines and two warships. Governor Nepveu and many inhabitants along with him now considered the troops to be superfluous, and while this was being discussed with the fatherland one of the warships already lay in the harbour of Paramaribo. It was then February 1773.

  The commander-in-chief, Colonel Fourgeoud, and the officers were well received, but Fourgeoud and Nepveu soon came to disagree with each other, and as had happened in the past, various parties formed in the colony, one taking the side of Fourgeoud, who he claimed had received from the Prince of Orange command over all the armed forces in Suriname. This party saw Fourgeoud and his men as the saviours of Suriname. The other party took the side of the governor, who found Fourgeoud to be arrogant and regarded him and his troops as a burden on the colony because they were costing so much money.

  The officers remained idle in Paramaribo and were soon welcome guests at the feasts and parties in the colony. They themselves decided that they had struck lucky in this way. At all gatherings there was talk of the expensive soldiers. The men would make sarcastic remarks about these lads who were just profiting from the money provided by their plantations. The ladies laughed up their sleeves and made furtive remarks that they would not normally have been able to make out loud.

  Rutger was constantly annoyed at all these goings-on. Amongst friends and acquaintances he could not help but talk about colony’s financial situation. The wealth was more pretence than reality. In his opinion catastrophe was just around the corner. He was ridiculed, considered a pessimist, a spoilsport. There was money enough and the wine flowed richly.

  Rutger knew that the accumulated debts of the Suriname planters at the banks already totalled more than fifty million. This meant three million in interest annually, and the plantations could usually not produce this.

  Then, all of a sudden, in 1773, the moment of truth dawned. The Amsterdam stock exchange crashed. Apparently, far too much credit had been accorded to the Suriname plantation owners. Plantations went bankrupt. The banks would never recover their money. What did happen was that many merchant houses suddenly found themselves to be plantation owners. A manager then had to be appointed, and in most cases this was the former plantation owner.

  Rutger considered this to be not a very good solution, for the manager or overseer received his money whether the plantation made a profit or not. He employed another method. At his administrator’s office the manager received a salary that was a fixed percentage of the profit. This naturally met with some opposition. The manager, who had previously himself been the plantation owner, could no longer flaunt his wealth, no longer give binge parties, and it was Le Chausseur’s fault. Rutger and Elza were no longer invited to card evenings and parties by some families. At first Rutger found this most unfortunate for Elza, but after she had told him that it was no problem at all for her, he happily ignored all the gossip and went his own steady way.

  161 Corps of Black Hunters or Black Rangers.

  162 “Pe Caesar de?”

  163 “Wakti. Kon nanga mi.”

  164 An open shelter with a roof of leaves.

  165 Here, mould or mildew (more commonly, ‘book’).

  166 The pint as used in Amsterdam at that time in the 18th century, equal to 0.5 litre.

  167 “Den bakra denki taki nengre don. We kon un si suma don!”

  168 “Ayi, kon un si suma don.”

  169 “Mi no sabi.”

  170 “No wan sma no sabi, no wan sma no si Caesar moro, un no sabi efu na dede Caesar dede, ma nowan sma no si na dede skin fu Caesar. No wan sma no si efu a go na businengre sei, no wan sma no si. Sinsi un doro kan na Buku no wan sma no si Caesar moro.”

  CHAPTER X

  SARITH

  Sarith travelled with her husband and child to their home, Klein Paradijs, firmly resolved to persuade Julius to buy a house in town. That was nothing exceptional: so many plantation owners had a handsome mansion in town. She was extremely nice to Julius once they were back on the plantation, but oh how bored she became. It was one of the two rainy seasons. Heavy rain, everything wet and dreary, and no-one for any sociability. She herself had nothing to occupy her, for Mini-mini was taking care of the baby and Kwasiba saw to everything else in the household. Sarith rarely bothered about her baby. Now and then she saw him when he was lying on Mini-mini’s lap or if Mini-mini was walking on the veranda with the baby in her arms. Julius did pay a lot of attention to his son. He did, of course, notice that Sarith had little interest in the child.

  Then everyone became alarmed at the news that the Maroons had overrun a military post. Lieutenant Leppert, head of the military post at Patamacca, went out on a sortie because an escapees’ camp had been discovered in that area. With about thirty soldiers he went into the bush. The Alukus lay in wait for him near a swamp through which the soldiers would have to pass. When the soldiers were up to their shoulders in the swamp they were fired upon. Leppert and ten soldiers were killed. The other twenty fled. Most of them got lost in the bush and only two returned.

  After that, yet another plantation was raided, and this one was hardly an hour’s journey from Klein Paradijs. Sarith began to put pressure on Julius to please buy a house in the town. They were not at all safe at Klein Paradijs. But Julius refused. Klein Paradijs was his home. He would not buy a house in the town. The Bonis would certainly not raid their plantation. Then rent a house for a while, asked Sarith. That he also did not want to do. And Sarith could insist, weep, stamp and shout “I want, I want” as much as she liked, Julius stood firm. He would not rent or buy a house in the town. His son would grow up on Klein Paradijs and not in Paramaribo
.

  Sarith tried the tack that it was necessary for his daughters, Miriam and Hannah. If they had a house in town the girls could live with her rather than at their aunt’s. Julius replied that that certainly wasn’t necessary. His daughters had become a part of their aunt’s family to such an extent that they probably would not want to live with Sarith. Furthermore, they would soon be thinking of marriage. For those two it was certainly not needed.

  Now Sarith began accusing him of thinking only of himself. He didn’t take her into consideration and not even his own son. When Julius replied that he really wanted his son to become an excellent planter and therefore wanted him to grow up on the plantation, Sarith said that he was thinking of himself so much that it did not matter to him that he was exposing her to the risk of getting murdered.

  “Well,” said Julius, “If you’re so scared, or if you’re getting bored, feel free to go to the town for a few weeks. But no messing with the child: he stays here.”

  Sarith prepared to leave. Julius would send Benny along to ensure that she arrived safely. He heard her telling Mini-mini to look after everything well, and then said that Mini-mini was certainly not going as well.

  Julius had realized for a long time now that it was Mini-mini who was bringing up the child. She fed him, washed him, rocked him to sleep. Hour after hour she would sit with him on her lap if he was crying, because, for instance, he was cutting his first teeth, and she was also the person towards whom he reached out as soon as he saw her.