Tula

by Jeroen Leinders

‘According to Bastiaan it is,’ Louis responds without much enthusiasm. ‘He says the French have set their slaves free.’

  ‘Bastiaan? Bastiaan who?’

  ‘Bastiaan from San Juan. He’s on loan to Santa Cruz. He spends a lot of time in the city and says he’s seen it with his own eyes: freed slaves travelling on ships from Haiti.’

  ‘But that’s excellent! Louis, if the French slaves are free… The Dutch are under French authority… Doesn’t that mean we’re also free? This is unbelievable news.

  Louis doesn’t share Tula’s enthusiasm. ‘Do you honestly think the master could care less about the slaves on Haiti? It’s only going to make life more difficult for us, Tula. Don’t you see? The slaves on Haiti had to fight hard for their freedom. They defeated the whites, but the masters here will do whatever it takes to suppress resistance, from whatever quarter it comes. I’ve never seen a white Frenchman on this island, have you? If we want our freedom we’ll have to fight for it ourselves, just as they did on Haiti.’

  ‘You may be right, Louis, you may be right.’ Tula turns and walks away, his mind wandering back to the time when he first learned what it’s like to be a slave.

  Tula and Quaku wake with a start one morning as Jorboe enters the cabin.

  ‘Tula,’ Jorboe shakes his son’s arm. ‘Come outside, quickly.’ Tula rubs the sleep from his eyes and follows his father through the door. Outside the morning sun is so bright he has to pinch his eyes shut.

  ‘Today is the day, Tula,’ says Jorboe. ‘Today you’re no longer a boy, today you’re a man.’

  Rosita lifts her hands to the heavens. ‘Aiaiay, my little Tula a man!’

  ‘That means you’re responsible for yourself from now on.’ The expression on Jorboe’s face turns serious. ‘I can’t protect you anymore, Tula. From this moment onwards you’re responsible for your own deeds. The master will treat you like a man and put you to work in the fields with the other men or wherever else he wants to you to be. If you’re disobedient or cross the master in another way he’ll punish you as a man. Think about that.’

  Tula shrugs his shoulders. ‘The master doesn’t have to worry about me,’ he says dryly.

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it,’ says Rosita, grabbing him by the shoulders and hugging him warmly. ‘My son, a real man,’ she says with tears in her eyes. ‘May God be at your side as you enter this important part of your life.’

  At that moment Quaku appears at the door of the cabin.

  ‘Kiko a pasa, mama?’ he stammers.

  ‘Today your brother has become a man, Quaku. From today on he belongs to the world of the grown-ups.’

  A sad expression appears in Quaku’s eyes. He turns to Tula.

  ‘Nnno, Tula, no,’ he begs. ‘You have to sssstay with me… ddddon’t leave me.’

  ‘Come here, Quaku,’ Tula looks at his little brother with genuine compassion. Quaku hobbles towards him and Tula lifts him onto his lap. ‘I’ll never leave you. You can stay with me forever. Today I became a man, and you’ll do the same in a couple of years. And when you’re all grown up, the two of us will take care of Papa and Mama. Then you can go looking for wood and light the fire to cook.’

  Quaku’s eyes begin to glow. ‘Light the fire, you mean it?’

  ‘Of course I do!’ Tula smiles at his little brother and sets him on his feet as the bell starts to ring at the manor house. Jorboe nods to Tula.

  ‘Go, my boy. Let them see you’re the son of Jorboe and Rosita.’

  Tula stands, his face brimming with pride and confidence, and he walks down the path to join the line of men heading towards the grounds of the manor house. He looks for Louis among the crowd and finally catches sight of him up ahead engaged in a noisy conversation with Pedro. Tula doesn’t think much of Pedro. He’s a couple of years older than Louis and his friend is inclined to look up to him, but Tula doesn’t trust him. When Tula catches up with the pair Pedro sneers:

  ‘So… in a hurry to get to work? Go ahead, make an impression, but you’ll always be black, Tula, no matter what you do.’

  Louis bursts out laughing. Pedro whispers something in his ear and they turn to Tula with a look of derision on their faces.

  ‘Why do you always try to ridicule people, Pedro? Does it make you happy?’

  ‘Watching you work later, that’s what’ll make me happy,’ Pedro laughs.

  Tula shrugs his shoulders and walks ahead of the boys, down the hill towards the manor house.

  The grounds of the manor house are at the bottom of a hill close to the beach. The path leading down to them is narrow and steep and the rocky surface makes it difficult to negotiate. A long line of slaves follows the path downwards, urged along by an overseer gesturing wildly that they get a move on. A small barn in which the tools are kept is located in the middle of the grounds. A heavy chain ensures that they can only be used when the overseers are present. The chain falls rattling to the ground. A few women rush forward as the bomba opens the door and steps aside. The women disappear inside and return moments later with huge pots in their arms. A group of men make their way to the other side of the barn; others follow the women and disappear into the grounds. Tula is a little confused. Everyone seems to know exactly what they have to do. A nasty jab on the shoulder almost knocks him over. ‘Nothing to do?’ Pedro laughs and walks past him. Louis signals that Tula should follow them. The overseer is handing out machetes behind the barn and each of the men takes one of the enormous knives and heads off towards the fields where long reed stems are swaying in the wind. The men line up along the entire width of one of the fields and begin to hack down the reeds close to the ground. The cut reeds are then pulled to the rear by a second line of men who strip off their leaves. Louis and Tula are standing behind Pedro who is assigned to the second line cutting off the leaves. The boys have to collect the stripped reeds and pile them up in a barrow. Once the barrow is full someone rolls it away and an empty barrow immediately takes its place. The work is heavy and monotonous. Sharp edges remain where the leaves are cut off and Tula’s hands fall foul of them more than once.

  ‘What are we doing this for?’ Tula turns to Louis with a pained expression on his face.

  ‘This,’ says Louis, gesturing exaggeratedly towards the field, ‘is the master’s drink supply. We’re supposed to break our backs because the master likes to have a little tipple of an evening.’

  ‘Exactly,’ says Pedro throwing a reed at Tula. ‘And I hope he chokes on it.’

  The sun climbs high in the cloudless sky. The grounds of the manor house are damp and muggy. All the hard work begins to take its toll on Louis, so he stands up straight to loosen the cramped muscles in his lower back. Tula doesn’t find it easy either. He’s not used to such extended periods of hard labour and he has pain in muscles he didn’t even know he had.

  The whistle finally blows, allowing the men to rest a little and drink some water. Tula and Louis drop to the ground on the spot and Pedro joins them from the field. ‘Had enough?’ he says, looking at Tula with a grin and resting his chin on the handle of his machete. ‘Or do you wish you’d stayed at home to play with that little brother of yours?’

  ‘Leave my brother out of this. What does my brother have to do with anything?’

  ‘Seems you enjoy hanging around with idiots,’ says Pedro up for a fight.

  Tula’s blood rushes to his head, but he manages to control himself.

  ‘If I enjoyed hanging around with idiots, we would have been good friends, Pedro,’ he says calmly. He gets to his feet and heads towards the water barrel to drink. He’s barely halfway when Pedro jumps on his back and throws his arm around his neck in a stranglehold. ‘You and your smart talk,’ he hisses in Tula’s ear. ‘I’ve had it up to here.’ Tula tries to wriggle free, but Pedro tightens his grip with every move.

  ‘Hey, let him go.’ Louis jumps up and tugs at Pedro’s arm. When that doesn’t work he slaps him hard on the forehead with the palm of his hand. Pedro lets go. ‘Aha, so you’re looking for
a fight too,’ he snorts. He lunges at Louis and grabs him round the waist. They fall to the ground and wrestle, each trying to get on top of the other. Pedro is a couple of years older, bigger, and a few kilos heavier, but Louis is able to use his speed and agility to his best advantage. It doesn’t take long before he’s sitting on top of Pedro, holding his arms to the ground with his knees. A sudden burning pain in his shoulder sucks the air from Louis’ lungs.

  ‘Cut it out, right now.’ A couple of bombas have hurried to the scene and set about pulling the fighters apart. ‘What’s all this? Energy to spare?’

  The searing pain of the watapana robs Louis of the energy to respond.

  ‘Pedro! What’s this all about?’

  But Pedro also holds his tongue and treats the bomba to a sneering glare.

  ‘Nothing to say? Fine by me. A couple of hours in the barn should loosen your tongues. Get moving!’ One of the bombas grabs Pedro by the hair and pushes him in the direction of the barn.

  ‘Master.’

  The bomba turns in amazement.

  ‘They don’t deserve to be punished. It’s all my fault.’ Tula approaches the bomba. ‘It’s my fault, master. They were fighting because of me.’

  ‘It’s not up to you who gets punished and who doesn’t.’ The overseer grabs Tula by the neck and pulls him towards him. ‘But if you insist, you can join them. Move it!’

  When they arrive at the barn their hands and feet are bound and they’re thrown inside. The barn is dark and airless, with tiny shafts of light here and there penetrating the cracks in the roof. The sweet smell of boiled molasses is powerfully present. It’s still relatively cool at this early hour, but the heat building up under the roof is already almost tangible. The sun will be at its height before long and the temperature inside the barn will soon start to climb. Tula is lying on his belly with his face in the sand. The fall has left him with an ugly graze on his cheek. The sand irritates his eyes and he blinks a couple of time to get his focus. Louis is crouching uncomfortably at the back of the barn, his arms tied behind his back. Pedro in the meantime is struggling to get to his feet. ‘The dogs,’ he hisses. ‘They’ll rue the day…’ Tula manages to sit upright. He still has the long nimble arms of a boy, making it easy for him to pull his fettered hands under his legs. He stands. ‘Untie me.’ Pedro lurches towards him. ‘Untie you? And what then, Pedro? They’ll only add to your punishment when they see you’ve shaken off your fetters? There’s nothing we can do.’

  ‘He’s right. There’s nothing we can do.’ Louis sinks to the floor. ‘Just wait, that’s all. Idiots! We shouldn’t have messed around.’

  ‘We…? He means you, Tula. You and your smart talk. You got us into this,’ Pedro screams.

  The door opens and a bomba storms inside. He thrashes out and Tula, who happens to be the closest, takes his fist hard on the nose. Tula staggers back against the wall of the barn as the bomba lunges at him and thrashes out again. ‘Mercy,’ Tula screams. ‘Have mercy on a poor slave.’ A second bomba appears in the doorway. ‘Enough! Let him go.’ Blood drips from the corner of Tula’s mouth. The bomba unties him and pushes him outside. ‘You’re getting off easy this time, now back to work,’ he snorts.

  At sundown, the long line of slaves lumbers up the steep slope back to the village. Out of the corner of his eye, Tula catches sight of Pedro and Louis being released from the barn. Weakened by the incredible heat inside and with their eyes pinched against the light of the setting sun, they shuffle along at the back of the line, their hands still tied behind their backs.

  Back at home, Rosita is beside herself. ‘What did they do to you, Tula? What happened?’ But Tula says nothing. He stares into space as Rosita cleans the wound on his face with a little water.

  ‘How could you have been so stupid?’ Jorboe glares at Tula. ‘Is this how you show them you’re my son? Calling attention to yourself, fighting with your own folk? Is this what you call responsibility? Get out of my sight and stay out of it, and not a word for the rest of the night. This is the last time, Tula. Do you hear me?’ Tula is too dazed to respond. He waits in silence until his father has said what he has to say. He then goes inside the cabin, falls to his knees in the dark and folds his hands in prayer. ‘Oh God, is it Your will that I be mistreated like this? Oh, Purest Spirit, why do you test my people so? Help me, Father, to endure this ordeal?’ He lies on his back and closes his eyes.

  VIII

  Tula makes his way to the manor house the following morning encouraged by Bastiaan’s story. He stops a short distance from the master, but Willem continues ringing the bell and pretends not to notice the solitary figure. Tula takes a couple of cautious steps in Willem’s direction, getting closer and closer until the master can no longer ignore him. Willem asks Tula in a sarcastic tone if he still wants to talk to the governor. Tula answers, poised and collected: ‘No, master. I don’t have to speak to the big Shon anymore. He’s no longer in charge.’ Willem is staggered. The impudence of this slave has to be curbed once and for all. He lurches towards Tula and grabs him firmly by the arm. ‘What did you say? Have you lost your mind completely? Who do you think you’re talking to?’ But Tula stands his ground unruffled and calmly explains to his master that the French have defeated the Dutch and announced that their slaves are to be freed. The Dutch now have to obey the French.

  ‘Obey? You clearly don’t know the meaning of the word, so let me teach you.’ Red with rage, Willem slaps Tula’s face with the flat of his hand. Tula takes the blow, but stays put, seemingly unaffected by it. Then Willem changes tactic and rests his hand gently on Tula’s shoulder. ‘Stay here, boy. Let me show you who the boss is round here.’ He walks away, crosses the garden, climbs the stairs up to the manor house and disappears inside. He reappears moments later pulling Speranza by the hair. ‘Is this the one, boy? Did she fill your head with all that big talk about the French?’ Tula is stunned and glued to the spot.

  ‘Get Louis, this instant,’ Willem snarls to the bomba running towards them in response to the hubbub. A vicious sneer graces his lips. Tula is at a complete loss. He had been ready for all sorts of reactions, but he hadn’t expected this. He approaches the master in an awkward and feeble attempt to free Speranza from his grip. ‘Stay where you are, I said. This is your last warning,’ Willem barks. The master then catches sight of the bomba running towards him with Louis at his side. ‘Louis!’ Willem roars, his eyes fixed on Tula. ‘Take Speranza to Santa Cruz. Tell the master there she’s not suitable for work in the house because she’s a thief and she’s unreliable. Tell him they can have her and that she’s only fit to work outside in the field. There’s a couple of years in her at least. Give him my regards and thank him for the wood.’

  Louis doesn’t know what to do or where to look. He turns to Tula, who appears to be in shock and unable to move.

  ‘Now, Louis!’ Willem roars. He throws Speranza at him and the pair stumble off. With an awkward arm around Speranza’s waist, Louis looks back to see what’s going to happen next. But Willem seems to be satisfied for the time being. He smiles and says: ‘Now back to work, boy. And put all that fighting talk out of your head. You’ll feel a lot better for it.’ He turns and walks away leaving Tula staggered and speechless.

  Later that evening back in the village, Louis is sitting next to his friend. “I’m sorry, Tula, but I told you talking never solved anything.’

  ‘It’s not about talking, Louis,’ Tula replies cheerlessly. ‘It’s about justice.’

  ‘Justice?’ Louis glares at him. ‘Taking Speranza away from you, is that justice? It’s about power, Tula, and nothing else. The whites have the power and they’ll never let us forget it.’

  Tula looks at the ground, dispirited. Speranza! What were they going to do to her? Would they really put her to work in the fields? Or even worse, lock her up on charges of theft? He had heard stories of women being buried to the waist and exposed to the burning sun all day long as punishment for one or other act of desperation. He’s never
seen it with his own eyes, but just the idea of it fills him with horror. A lump begins to form in his throat. He tries to swallow his grief, but it only makes the sense of injustice grow all the more. ‘Enough,’ he says, choked with emotion. ‘I told the master that we do whatever the boss tells us. That’s what they taught us to do. Now the master has to listen to a new boss and I’m going to remind him about it.’

  Louis turns to Tula and says with a hint of pity in his voice. ‘The master will never agree with you, Tula. Look what he did. You’ll only make things worse for yourself. We have to fight.’

  ‘There’s more than one way to fight, Louis. Words can be more powerful than punches. We have to rise up. Right is on our side. The Bible says all people are equal in the eyes of God. The French and the Dutch, the whites and the blacks… we’re all equal. The French slaves have been set free. For them black and white are now equal. And whether the master likes it or not, he’s going to have to listen to the French. They’re the bosses now. Equality, freedom… and fraternity, my friend. Black and white as brothers side by side. That’s the world of the future, the world we can look forward to.’

  Louis shrugs his shoulders.

  Jorboe is already asleep when Tula comes knocking at his parents’ cabin. Rosita can’t hide her anxiety, surprised by the late hour of his visit. ‘They’ve taken Speranza from me,’ Tula begins, his tone sombre. Without saying a word, Rosita gets to her feet, goes inside the cabin and emerges moments later with Jorboe. The old man looks at him and shakes his head. He drops onto a stool next to the door with a deep sigh.

  ‘Listen to me, Tula. I understand you’re hurting at what happened to Speranza, but…’

  ‘No, father, you need to listen to me. I feel terrible about what happened to Speranza, but that’s not why I’m here.’ Tula tells his father the entire story, bristling with excitement.

  ‘If you heard this from Bastiaan, then it must be true,’ Jorboe groans. ‘But what are you thinking, Tula? The master isn’t just going to stand there and take it. You know what he’s capable of. If this story gets out among the people, there’ll be no stopping him. He’ll punish us all, for sure. This news just makes everything worse.’