“You gentlemen have defeated the peoples of the Indies, so you have the right to expect their respect. You have the right to demand anything whatsoever from them: a right that the law of history, where victory in war determines all, has conferred upon you. But in the case of the Japanese, it makes sense to acknowledge them as equals.”
And Telinga again: “It’s a pity I don’t know anything about the Romans, though it must be true if it’s written in the histories. But there is a difference with the Japanese. It’s not possible to acknowledge them to be equally tall in all climes. That would be directly violating the laws of nature.”
And Jean Marais: “Why can’t those who disagree with the decision restrain their need to hurl insults? Amongst ourselves—if all we want to do is hurl insults—it has to be acknowledged that we all don’t stand equally tall; with stupid insults we will only strike back at ourselves. It’s true, isn’t it, that you could get together a number of colonial gentlemen who are dwarfs, either because their growth was stunted or because they were naturally small.”
Another voice again: “Japan has been given equal status with Europe. And that is only possible because of our own generosity and sense of charity. Now it is law. And this is the question: If China achieves some little progress like Japan, will China also be given equal status? There’s nothing wrong with daring to put such a question. We must dare also to answer it. If it turns out that we must answer yes, what then will become of these Indies? What will our position be then?
“The Japanese and Chinese people are famous for their wandering, a wandering caused by their poverty. The latest news is that the Japanese are flooding into Hawaii, and have already begun arriving in America—both north and south. The Chinese have come into Southeast Asia in wave after wave. Those who know say it started before Christ. In the Indies itself, the number of Chinese is several times greater than the grand total of all the Pure and Mixed-Blood Europeans. Can we forget the Chinese War of 1741–1743 when the Chinese Imperial Fleet swept the Dutch East Indies Company from all its footholds on the north coast of Java? And then the fall of the Court of Katasura? It is hoped that our great colonial leaders, whom we all honor and respect, will spare some moments to contemplate these things.
“Look at our colonial investments: How much money and how many lives have we already flushed down the drain to put down every resistance of the Natives—from the moment we set foot here up to this very second? How many thousands of our soldiers have died in Java and Sumatra because of war and malaria? We have waged continuous war in order to retain power. Every barracks-child can tell you! Even now in the very center of the Indies there are enclaves of power that have not bowed down before Her Majesty the Queen. Now there is a yellow-skinned people who have been made our equals: a nation of imitators. With our European technology, they have tried to sow the seeds of pride in their breasts by attacking and conquering Manchuria. The scholars say Japan wants to strengthen itself with the iron and steel of Manchuria.
“With iron and steel, and the science and learning of Europe, we dare not imagine what will happen to the fruits of all our strivings and efforts in the future. Ask any soldier who has had to go into battle time and time again! Ask the men who have served in the Field Police. Just count up how many have died or been disabled for life for the glory of the Greater Netherlands! Be careful!”
I myself, as a result of all this, was forced to imagine Japan as very very close to the Indies, ready at any moment to replace the power and authority of the Netherlands.
The Malay-Chinese papers, which mostly printed advertisements, remained silent; they gave no opinion. Even the turmoil in China itself was hardly ever reported.
Here are my own conclusions on this matter. There was fear among the colonial classes in the Indies. It was as if they had lost faith in their own strength. And how can such a tall people be so afraid of another race—a race it despises, upon which it is always heaping insults? I did not understand. But I could sense that something was making the Europeans and their Mixed-Blood relatives very anxious.
Mama had not been reading the newspapers over the last several days. She was still busy, and not paying much attention to her makeup and dress. Dark rings shadowed her eyes. She rarely spoke, rarely greeted me. When she wasn’t working, I usually found her lost in thought. I didn’t bother her with my questions.
If I forced myself to understand what was going on—even with my current limited capabilities—I came to the conclusion that the colonials were frightened of their own imaginings, imaginings of things far away on the distant horizon. For me Japan still represented something abstract. My admiration of her was admiration of an abstraction. In my mind I could not yet feel Japan in its concreteness. It was different with the Chinese, who could be seen and met almost anywhere in the Indies, their bare feet tramping the highways and village lanes, their backs loaded with peddlers’ merchandise, their skin clear and clean. And they never complained! No one ever got to know them well because of their different language, their different habits and beliefs. But for me there was always something special about them. Without ever swinging a hoe or machete, without ever turning soil or planting seeds, they were able to eat and live better than most Natives. Nobody wanted to see this special achievement, but only to stare wide-eyed at their foreignness. If the Chinese had this extra ability, surely the Japanese would be even further advanced.
Then an image of Maiko came to me—the one and only Japanese I’d ever seen and whom I met during the court trials. She was just one among so many Japanese prostitutes who had left the land of their birth, determined to accumulate some capital so that they could return and set up a business with their husbands. And how much capital had already been gathered by all these prostitutes throughout the world? How much had been taken back to Japan by people other than prostitutes? How many businesses had been set up in Japan by now? I could not even imagine—except for how busy that nation must be with every kind of business and enterprise.
Even though I was a great admirer of Japan I had never dreamed that this people, who had never been conquered by Europe, could become so highly respected among the international community of advanced nations. Their warships patrolled all the world’s waterways. The mouths of their cannons gaped out at both sky and sea. How proud any Asian would be to be so respected, never having to crawl and kowtow to some foreign power.
And then one day, quite unexpectedly, Maarten Nijman started a new controversy: “The Yellow Peril from the North.” In contrast to his earlier article, he gave the following warning: “Only one step away from Japan is China. A sense of restlessness has lately been in the air among all the peoples of the European colonies of Southeast Asia, from Cochin China to the Indies. The target of this restlessness has been colonial authority. And there’s another restlessness that is not so well known but deeper and more hidden—the restlessness of conquered peoples who have had enough, who are tired of satisfying the wants of those who have made themselves masters—all those who must be called Sir. This is the restlessness of the religious leaders of the people in the conquered areas. It has been there for a very, very long time. But an even more important source of restlessness, which hasn’t been recognized as such, is the ‘yellow peril from the north.’ The reform movement, the renaissance in China, however small and meaningless it may seem, will, as time goes on, grow larger and larger.”
I didn’t really understand what he meant by restlessness, so I made sure I remembered that word. Restless! restless!
And it was none other than Herbert de la Croix who, through a letter from Miriam, completely dumbfounded me.
My good Minke, please don’t become bored with us because we’re always nagging you with our opinions about your people and your country. Papa says that right up to today, Minke, the nations of the north have come to your country to tread upon you. Yes, even in our times, Minke. You yourself have experienced this. The north has always been sacred to your people, even in their dreams. Isn’t a
dream of sailing northward considered an omen of approaching death? And haven’t your people, since the forgotten ages, buried their corpses pointing to the north? And your ideal home, isn’t that one that faces north? According to Papa, this is because it is from the north that the marching feet of conquering peoples have come, ensuring your backwardness, then deserting you, and leaving you only the waste of their civilization, their diseases, and just a little of their learning.
I write this with a heavy heart, my dear Minke, not to hurt your feelings, but only to pass on a message: The north contains no magic. But it is true that you must keep your eyes to the north always in vigilance.
Jean Marais said: “I think, Minke, that your country is too isolated—it can’t bear the life-beat of other countries. They can come out here into warm and gentle lands, relax, live like kings. Even a small nation like the Dutch. And your people can do nothing about it. Three hundred years, Minke. Not an insignificant time.”
Shameful. And there was more. I felt furious in my impotence.
This tumult of ideas and opinions from so many people made me more and more confused. School was simpler; you just had to listen and have faith in a few teachers. The best marks went to the student who could turn himself into what the teachers wanted.
Maarten Nijman wrote: “The Chinese Young Generation, so well schooled, are jealous of Japan’s achievements, the same Japan that is robbing China of parts of its own territory. They are jealous! And furious and angry because they are aware but powerless.”
Just like me.
“Pity the Chinese Young Generation,” said Nijman. “They are forty years behind the Japanese, the cousins of whom they’re so jealous. Imagine, just to rid themselves of their thau-cang—pigtails—and to free the feet of their women from that tormenting, deforming custom, will need at least fifteen more years. Even then there is no guarantee of success. Ah yes, because ‘custom’ will oppose the Chinese Young Generation with the force of arms. If they do succeed in ridding the byways of the world of pigtails and the tiny deformed feet of their women, they will still not have freed themselves from that habit of coughing up phlegm and spitting it out—a revolting habit that makes one’s hair stand on end—a habit that has caused the Chinese to lose the sympathy of the whole world! To get rid of that habit the Young Generation would have to work for another twenty-five years at least. So it will still be about seventy-five years before the world won’t feel disgusted when standing near a Chinese.”
Still Nijman’s opinion: “Japan is now looked upon as equal with Europe, China not yet. What people say is true: There is only one step between China and Japan. But it cannot be measured in miles or kilometers. It is a step in civilization. It can be measured only in terms of the Chinese people’s own capacities.”
Nijman’s writings were interesting. One day I would ask his opinion of my own people. Are my people as pathetic as the de la Croix family says? Perhaps he has some kind of abacus he can use to calculate how many dozens of years it will take the Javanese to reach the same level as the Japanese.
And more Nijman: “That distance in civilization, however many steps it may be, is not important. In the end the strong always swallow the weak, even if the strong are only small in number. Just try to imagine: the Chinese nation is a big nation; what if it were strong as well? The Yellow Peril, sirs, the Yellow Peril. Be careful, very careful. Japan is already a reality; China can likewise become a reality, whether we like it or not. Perhaps we won’t ever see it ourselves. But be very careful, because time keeps moving on, whether we like it or not.”
Then one day a letter from Nijman landed on my desk—for me. He hoped that I could come to the editorial offices to write up an English-language interview with a Chinese youth.
An interview in English, not Dutch! If there is anyone who cannot see that this is a great advance, I don’t know what to say to them. Mama had no objections. Like my own mother, she never forbade me anything. Also like Mother, she supported everything I did, as long as I was prepared to bear the risk and as long as it did not harm anyone else.
So it seemed that it was only Jean Marais who objected. He began the argument a week ago. “Minke, I’ve wanted to talk to you for some time, but I’ve always held back,” he said, “even though I feel it my duty.”
“What is it, Jean?”
“It’s like this, Minke. You have become famous and respected because of your writings. No one can deny that. But my opinion is different. Perhaps my opinion originally comes from you. Look, Minke, I feel the respect you have obtained doesn’t come from your writing. It is respect for your character. You present and show things differently. It is all uniquely Minke. Your writing is only an emanation, no, not even that, just a reflection of your character. You are a very interesting individual. Fortunately you have mastered Dutch, so you write in Dutch.”
From the beginning my suspicions were aroused. Perhaps his opinions were only secondhand too—he didn’t read Dutch. And he didn’t normally speak for so long at once. I didn’t like being lectured to like this. If all he wanted to do was to free himself from his dependence on me, I didn’t see why he had to start off with a speech. It was his right to stand on his own feet. It was good if he felt he could stand alone now. I too would join in thanking God.
But the way he delivered his little speech made me feel he was letting out some suppressed emotion, ready to explode.
“Yes, Jean?”
“There is something I feel is a great pity. Something that thousands of other people feel is a great pity too: Why do you only write in Dutch? Who do you only speak to the Dutch and the others who understand their language? You owe nothing to them, just as your mother once told you. What do you expect from them that makes you want to speak only to them?”
My prejudice made me feel his words were jumping out at me, without any humility: arrogant, piercingly lecturing, even reprimanding me. My anger welled up and overflowed. I sensed he was preparing to entrap me. He wanted me to write in Malay so that he himself could read my writings directly, while destroying my fame and achievement and prestige. I gazed at him with bulging, angry eyes.
“Are you angry, Minke?” he asked in an arrogant tone of voice.
I restrained my fury. Whatever else, he was my friend, not an enemy. He must not become a former friend. Perhaps he simply didn’t want to face reality: my character, my individuality, could not be separated from the Dutch language. To separate these things would only make this person named Minke nothing better than roadside rubbish.
“So you want me to write in Malay,” I asked, “so that no one will read what I write? In a language that you can understand?”
“You’ve got it wrong, Minke. I personally am not a factor in this. I’m only speaking like this for your own benefit. Malay is used more than any other language in the Indies, much more than Dutch.”
I rejected his proposition. “Why don’t you accept reality? Only those with little or no education read Malay.”
Jean seemed to be offended, perhaps because he himself couldn’t speak Dutch. And indeed I wanted him to be offended, to be hurt. His heart must suffer the hurt that mine was now feeling.
However he then whispered harshly: “You’re an educated Native! While Native people are not educated, it is you who must ensure they become educated. You must, must, must speak to them in a language they understand.”
“Malay readers are, at the most, only uneducated European Mixed-Bloods who work in the plantations and factories.”
“Don’t belittle,” he said more harshly. “Do you consider Kommer uneducated? He writes in Malay. He translates your writings into Malay. Do you think it was Dutchmen who defended you in your difficulties? How many of those uneducated ones were prepared to go to jail to defend you? And for how long? They defended your marriage because of Kommer’s translations, because of Kommer’s writings, not because of your Dutch articles.”
“You’re lying!”
“That’s what Kommer said.”
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“You’re a liar!” I roared.
“He understands Natives better than you!” he hissed in accusation. “You don’t know your own people.”
“You’re going way too far now!”
“Through the Malay readers, even the illiterate eventually found out. Their feelings were moved, their sense of justice was offended—”
I left his house, no longer able to control my fury. I went straight to the buggy, jumped aboard, and ordered Marjuki to get going.
“Just had an argument, Young Master?” Marjuki asked.
I didn’t answer.
The buggy started off. From behind I could hear the sharp-pitched cries of little Maysoroh Marais: “Uncle! Uncle!”
Damn! Keep going, Juki! Maysoroh be damned as well! It’s no loss to me if I no longer know you. Then suddenly the words of Marais from two years ago echoed in my mind: “You are educated! You must be fair and just—beginning with your thoughts.”
Have I been just? I turned around. The little girl was still chasing after the buggy, crying out and calling me to come back. Was it right for me to treat her this way, this child who had done me no wrong? Was my treatment of her father proper? Was I right that he only wanted me to write in a language that he knew? What has this girl done to you, Minke?
Child of All Nations Page 6