The Cost of Sugar

by Cynthia McLeod

  “What lad?”

  “That Andersma, the lieutenant, who’s lying here dead.”

  “Dead, is he dead?” Sarith put her hand in front of her mouth. Rein was dead, and it was her fault. Oh, what should she do? What could she say?

  “Yes, he’s dead, and what was he doing here?”

  Sarith gulped, “He was here to protect us.”

  Julius stood up and went to the door, asking, “Protect you, in his pyjamas?”

  What he saw in the passage filled him with disgust. Three vultures were sitting on the window-sill near the corpse and two others were picking at it. One had an eye in its beak. Julius was about to go into the passage when he heard a thump behind him. Sarith, who had got up and was just behind him, had seen the same thing. Then she had fainted.

  An hour later, Julius sat with Jethro on his knee in his office downstairs. He had called the soldiers to take the body away and bury it.

  When Sarith had fainted, he had asked Mini-mini and Kwasiba to take care of the misi. He himself had gone downstairs with Jethro, covering the boy’s eyes with his hand so that he would not see the disgusting spectacle. Kwasiba had gone to look for something edible. Almost everything was gone, but she could pull up some cassava somewhere and cook that. Jethro had lapped that up. Julius now understood that Sarith, Mini-mini and Jethro had sat for more than twenty-four hours in that cupboard while Kwasiba had kept that terrible Agosu talking and put him at his ease. That had meant that he had not searched any further.

  But that other man, that gnawed at him. What he had heard in town. He had gone to Abraham and Rebecca’s. By chance the previous rabbi was also visiting. He had asked where Julius’ wife was. When he had answered that his wife had remained at Klein Paradijs, the rabbi had asked whether that was not dangerous. Julius had answered that Sarith herself found it not dangerous and above all there were so many soldiers in the area.

  “That’s precisely where the danger lies,” the rabbi had answered.

  Julius had looked at him incomprehensibly, and, noticing this, the old rabbi had said, in fatherly fashion, “My dear friend, I don’t want to meddle in your affairs, but don’t you know what the whole of Paramaribo is saying about your wife?”

  Then the story was told, how Sarith was having an affair with that Andersma, was often even spending nights with him in his house. Everyone had been talking about it; it had been going on for some time. And he … he knew nothing. And now he had arrived after that fearful journey back, the first thing he had seen was that lad’s corpse in the passage.

  Jethro was talking. He said how scared he had been, the shooting had been really bad. He had heard shooting: “… like bang bang and I was scared papa. I shouted Mini-mini at the door and then Uncle Rein ran out of the bedroom and went to the window and then bang bang and boom, there he lay on the ground and was bleeding papa, blood, and I cried and Mini-mini came and …”

  “Quiet now, my boy, quiet. It’s all over; everything is safe. Don’t think about it any more. Papa is here.” Julius pressed the boy against him and then asked gently, “That Uncle Rein, was he often here?”

  Jethro nodded. “Yes, lots of times, papa, and he had a gun papa, a really nice one, and if he had had it he would have shot first, and then bang bang the nasty men would be dead. But when he came out of mama’s bedroom he did not have his gun, he just had his pyjamas on. A pity, eh?”

  Julius nodded, “Yes, a pity. Was he often in mama’s bedroom, then?” he enquired further.

  “Oh yes. When he came he always went into mama’s bedroom. Sometimes I only saw him when he went away. But he was very nice, papa; he gave me those things from his gun. Is he dead now, papa, and who will get his gun now? Because if you’re dead you can’t shoot any more, eh?”

  “That’s right: if you’re dead you can’t shoot any more,” said Julius softly, stroking his child’s head.

  Hundreds of thoughts flashed through his mind. That was what Sarith had been doing, then. All that deceit. That’s why she didn’t want to come along when he went to the town. And he, the idiot, had known nothing, suspected nothing. He had even thought that Sarith was staying because she was happy at the plantation. Everyone had known everything; everyone except him.

  Mini-mini came in. She came to collect Jethro. She wanted to bath him and put him to bed. So much had happened to him. Misi was quiet now. Kwasiba had brought her round with smelling salts and had given her strong sugared water to drink. She had wept at first, but had now calmed down. Julius looked at Mini-mini. Should he ask her what she knew about that Andersma and Sarith? But, oh, why put that poor girl in danger? After all, he already knew enough. He stayed a while in his office. Everything in the house was quiet. Outside he could hear the soldiers. At the house all the slaves had left except Kwasiba and Mini-mini. How many were left on the plantation as a whole he did not know. He stood up, went outside and told the soldiers that they could spend the night in the overseer’s house. The troop leader said that the bush-negroes would certainly not return. They had taken everything they wanted: tools, food. He was lucky that they had not set fire to the house. They had buried Andersma at the edge of the forest. Julius wondered how much they knew about his wife and Andersma, but he said nothing. He went inside and paced up and down on the rear veranda. It was midnight by now.

  He had to speak with Sarith. His common sense dictated waiting until the morning. But he could not manage to wait that long. He had to speak to her. Upstairs, he flung the bedroom door open. Sarith was lying on the bed, but she wasn’t asleep.

  “That Andersma, what was he doing here,” Julius demanded harshly.

  Sarith sat up with a shock. “He was here by chance and wanted to defend us,” she said.

  “In his pyjamas, of course?” Julius became angry. So, she was planning to lie to him. With a stride he came closer and yelled, “I want the truth. Don’t lie to me. I know it all already. The whole town knows about it. Why was he here?”

  Now Sarith dared say nothing. She looked at the furious man and closed her eyes.

  Julius grabbed her by the shoulder of her nightdress and pulled her. “Just say it, you were carrying on with him, hey? You were sleeping with him, hey? Come on, just admit it.”

  When Sarith still said nothing he gave her a hard slap on the face, and then another. “Admit it, tell me, you were carrying on with him, hey?”

  Sarith began wailing, “Yes, oh yes, but …”

  “But what, you slut?”

  He smacked her again and then pushed her, so that she landed on the ground. Sarith screamed; now she was really afraid of him.

  “No, oh no Julius, stop it!”

  Julius’ eyes were red with anger, foam was appearing on his lips. Trembling with rage he asked, “And how long is it now? A year, two years? How long have you been making a laughing stock of me, eh? Tell me!”

  He came closer and put his hands round her throat. Sarith was now petrified: he was going to murder her, oh God, he was going to murder her.

  “No,” she screamed, “No, help, no!”

  The next moment someone sprang between them and pushed Julius to one side and Sarith to the other. It was Kwasiba! She had heard all the commotion from downstairs. When she heard Sarith screaming like that, she had realized that something terrible was happening and had run upstairs. “Masra, stop it,” she shouted. “The bush-negroes haven’t murdered her. Do you want to kill her – are you out of your mind? Do you want to end up in prison?”214

  Kwasiba was looking more at the masra, standing there beside himself with fury and with foam round his mouth. He had every reason to be livid, she was thinking. But she had to calm him down, she couldn’t let him do something dire in a fit of rage.

  “Come, masra, come with me,” she said, taking his hand. “You’re tired out, the way you’ve hurried here, you must be exhausted. Come, I’ll give you a massage.”215

  And she led him out of the room, and like an obedient child Julius went with her, overcome as he was by rage
and humiliation.

  In his office Kwasiba began to remove his shirt. She had him lie on the couch and began to massage his back. She very often did this. When he had made a long journey through the fields on horseback or had sat for hours in the boat, Kwasiba would always give him a massage. It felt good, calming, relaxing. Now, too, Kwasiba massaged him, calmly. Her old, strong fingers kneaded his back evenly, and she talked. As always when she did this, she talked. Now, however, not about all kinds of minor things to do with the plantation and the slaves, but about him and the misi. The misi was terribly in the wrong, yes, wicked and stupid. He was such a good masra to her, Kwasiba knew that. But now the misi was really sorry. She hadn’t meant any harm. She was totally spoilt as a child and had always been able to do just what she wanted. Now Sarith knew he would not accept this, she would certainly do nothing like it again. He must forgive her, yes, he really had to. And the lad, he had had his punishment; he lay in his grave. But he, the masra must forgive misi. He must above all keep his calm. “Think of the children, do think of them.”216

  Julius was quiet, listening to what Kwasiba was saying.

  “Children?” Then he asked her what she was talking about – after all, there was only Jethro. “Doesn’t masra know, then; misi is expecting?”217

  Oh, and now this, Sarith pregnant: a child with that soldier lad, no doubt. This too! Julius felt his anger welling up again, and cried, “A soldier’s child.”218

  “No, masra, it is your child. I know it’s your child.”219

  Kwasiba went on massaging and talking. Oh, she knew for certain that the misi would be a different person after all this. These events had affected her deeply. She would now be loving towards him, would not be seeking pleasure; a sweet, homely wife. Masra could certainly believe Kwasiba. She knew her misi so well.

  When, after a good half hour, the massage was over, Julius stood up. He had to talk to Sarith again. “Don’t go and fight with her, masra, I beg you.”220

  “No, I’ll not fight.”221

  He went upstairs. Kwasiba stayed at the foot of the stairs, and when he went into the room, she went up quietly. In the room he said to Sarith, who was lying with her face in the pillow, “Sit up.” She sat up, leaning against one of the bedposts.

  “Kwasiba says you’re pregnant.”

  “Yes, I wanted to tell you myself once you were back here,” said Sarith.

  “What did you want to tell me: that you were pregnant with the lieutenant’s child?”

  “No Julius,” Sarith began weeping again. “It is your child.”

  “How do you know that? How many times have you slept with him? Isn’t there a far greater chance that it’s his child? If you weren’t Jethro’s mother I’d throw you through the window, you whore. Now you’ll not be hit, and I’m not throwing you out, understand me well. But don’t expect anything from me – expect nothing, you hear. If you want to leave, then so much the better. If you stay, then it’s because of Jethro. That other child, well, that is your business, but if you stay, you’ll behave yourself, do you hear? Because otherwise, God help me, I’ll strangle you with my own bare hands, slut.”

  He turned round and slammed the door shut behind him.

  JULIUS

  It was about a week later that Julius had finally taken stock of everything on the plantation. All those days he had sat in his office, brooding about Sarith, about himself, about how he should go further with his life. He had had Kwasiba bring bedding to the office and he slept on the couch. Sarith he hardly saw. Some of the slaves had returned. The domestic slaves, some of the older slaves who worked the land. Practically all the young men had gone, most of the young slavegirls, too. All in all he now had less than half of them. All the equipment was gone. He would certainly have to get thirty new slaves and everything else as well. The slaves’ food plots were also empty. He would have to buy food.

  He had no money. The last harvest had been bad. He had even run short and had had to call on his limited reserves. Where would he borrow money? The banks did not want to extend loans, and certainly not to Jews. If he did not borrow, how could he carry on with the plantation? What would they have to live on, and how would he be able to pay the huge sum for the escapees’ fund? The annual planters’ contribution was continually increasing, and all for nothing: all just to maintain an expensive army that had lads who carried on with your wife behind your back. Misery! Nothing but misery! Where could he borrow money?

  And then he thought of Rutger. He would have to help him. It was common knowledge that Le Chasseur was an agent who did not readily extend loans, and certainly not in these times. But at the end of the day Rutger was his brother-in-law, Sarith and Elza were sisters, stepsisters perhaps, but sisters all the same, and Julius thought back to how they were virtually inseparable as girls, almost like twins. Well, it would be best if Sarith first spoke to Elza and explained the emergency. He would need Sarith, therefore. Now, if she still wanted to be his wife, she must be prepared to do something in return.

  He went to Sarith’s room. She had spent almost the whole week in there. Sarith got a fright when she saw her husband come in. Had he come to quarrel? Was he angry? But Julius began to explain in measured terms that the plantation was in a bad way. If he were to keep the plantation, then he must buy slaves and equipment urgently. He needed money and would therefore have to get a loan, and wanted to try that at Rutger’s bank in view of the fact that he would not get one anywhere else. For this reason it was necessary for Sarith to go to town and first explain to Elza that they were in desperate circumstances. Elza would certainly be able to talk her husband round.

  “Me, go to Elza to ask for a loan? No, I won’t do that.” Sarith was indignant. With Elza of all people.

  “Why not? She’ll be sure to understand.” Julius was already getting annoyed.

  “No, I won’t do it. You can ask everything of me, but not this, no, no,” cried Sarith.

  Now Julius was really angry. “Why not? What is the reason why you won’t? Tell me, tell me.” He held Sarith by her shoulder. “Why won’t you? There is something, now that you mention it. You were always such good friends, but now you never go to her, in fact, and they’ve never been here. What is it? Tell me.”

  “Oh,” Sarith shrugged, “Gossip and so forth.”

  “What kind of gossip, then. Who’s telling tales? What gossip?”

  Sarith said nothing, but Julius was livid. What was behind all this? What was all this secrecy about yet again?

  “What kind of gossip, tell me,” he yelled. Sarith was scared.

  “Oh, from the past, long ago, that I, that I … wanted to steal her husband.”

  Julius looked at his wife and said thoughtfully, “And that wasn’t gossip, eh? That was the truth: yes, now I know. You tried to turn his head, yes, that’s what it was.”

  Suddenly he saw in his mind’s eye the scene at Hébron on the occasion of Rebecca’s wedding. He remembered how he had seen Sarith standing at the side with Rutger, leaning against him, exercising all her charm, laughing.

  “And who knows how far you got him, too, the husband of your sister, your bosom-friend. Oh what a monster you are!”

  Furious, he went away.

  That afternoon he saw her on the veranda and said, “Get ready. Tomorrow we’re going to town. Jethro and Mini-mini are going too. You don’t need to go to Elza: I’ll spare you that humiliation. But get one thing clear: you’ll behave like the ideal wife and you’ll come straight back with us.”

  In Paramaribo everyone had naturally known for a long time what had happened at Klein Paradijs. Everyone sympathized with Sarith: the terror she had experienced. Everyone was also full of admiration for Kwasiba’s presence of mind and cleverness.

  “She deserves a reward,” said Esther. “She saved your life.”

  And Sarith thought, yes, twice in one day. But of course she could not say anything about what had happened between her and Julius after that. Naturally, everyone knew, too, what had happened
to Andersma. People would not say it to Julius and Sarith, but everyone talked about it, and the story became increasingly juicy with the telling. Julius had found Andersma’s naked body when he arrived home, and Sarith had rolled naked out of the cupboard, and so forth. Julius had the feeling that all the men were laughing at him, and when people asked him how his wife was and whether she had got over the shock, he thought peevishly, which shock were they referring to: the raid by Agosu or the death of her lover?

  178 “San de fu du? Opo no!”

  179 “No frede, wakti m’e kon.”

  180 An advanced form of dug-out canoe (pronounced kor-yaal).

  181 “Joli-Coeur e kon.”

  182 “Mi Tata, Busi Nengre, Busi Nengre!”

  183 “Go kibri, mi Gado misi, go kibri, Busi Nengre dya!”

  184 “Pe den dè, pe den bakra de?”

  185 “Bakra? Bakra no de moro, yu kiri en kaba toch?”

  186 “Den trawan, pe den e kibri?”

  187 “Trawan no de, alamala go na foto.”

  188 “Ala katibo nengre, un kiri a bakra kaba, yu kan gowe, lon gowe, yu fri.”

  189 “Ai dan m’o sribi dyaso tide neti. Yu dati yu n’e gowe?”

  190 “Nono ba, efu yu e tan sribi dyaso, a betre mi srefi e tan, dan mi kan bori gi yu fu yu kan nyan wan bun preti.”

  191 “Ai uma yi habi leti, we bori gi mi, bori gi un alamala.”

  192 “Suma na yu dan brada?”

  193 “Mi na Agosu.”

  194 “So yu na Agosu no, ai mi yere yu nen, yu na wan bigi man.”

  195 “Yu yere no, we go bori dan, angri en kiri e bigi man, m’o wakti dya.”

  196 “Yu tyari den wroko sani gowe, dan un kon baka fu teki moro”

  197 “A dungre keba, mi o tan dyaso.”

  198 “Ai, un habi leti baya, ai un kisi den moi, de bakra didibri.”

  199 “Surdati fon wi pikin na ini wan mata mata, te a dede, net leki fa y’e fon ton ton.”