I was revolted by all this. Sometimes I would watch my father and feel moved. His whole body and soul wrestled with that dream. How he humiliated himself and his dignity! But I didn’t dare say anything. Sometimes I did pray that he would stop his shameful behavior. The neighbors often said it was better, and indeed best, to ask of Allah, for how great anyway was mankind’s power; but it was undignified to beg from the white people. I did not pray that he obtain his post, but rather that he be able to shake himself free from his shameful behavior. At that time I would not have been able to explain all this. It was something I just felt inside me. But all my prayers were to no avail.
Tuan Besar Kuasa was a bachelor, as was usually the case with newly arrived Pures. He was, perhaps, older than my father, Sastrotomo, the clerk. People said my father once tried to offer him a woman. He not only rejected the offer and refused to say thank you but abused my father and threatened to sack him. After that my father became the object of public ridicule. My mother quickly grew thin and frail as she listened to people’s taunts: “Maybe he’ll end up offering his own daughter.” They meant me.
You must certainly be able to imagine how suffocating life became after that. From that time on I never dared leave the house. My eyes were always looking uncontrollably to the front room to see if there was a white-skinned guest. Thanks be to God, there never was.
Unlike the other Dutch men, Tuan Besar Kuasa didn’t like participating in the tayub dance festivities. Every Sunday he went to Sidoardjo for devotions at the Protestant church. At seven in the morning he could be seen on a horse or in a carriage. I myself once saw him from afar.
When I turned thirteen I was kept at home, and was only acquainted with the kitchen, back parlor, and my own room. All my friends had already married. Only when a neighbor or relative visited us did I ever feel that I had the freedom of the house as I had in my childhood. I wasn’t even allowed to sit on the porch. Not even to step onto its floor.
When the factory stopped work and the employees and workers went home, I often watched from inside as someone would walk back and forth, all the time glancing at our house. Of course, all our lady guests said I was beautiful, the flower of Tulangan, the blossom of Sidoardjo. And if I looked at myself in the mirror, I found no reason not to agree with their flattery. My father was a handsome man. My mother—I never knew her name—was a pretty woman and knew how to look after her body. Actually my father should properly have had two or three wives, especially as he owned land that was rented by the factory and other land worked by tenants. But he didn’t. He felt it was enough to have one wife who was beautiful. His only other dream was to become the paymaster, factory cashier, the most respected Native, for the rest of his life.
That was how things were, Ann.
By the time I reached fourteen, people already considered me an old maid. I’d already begun having periods two years earlier. Father had some special plan for me. Even though people hated him, proposals of marriage to me came in often. All were refused. From my room I heard it happen several times. Unlike other Native women, my mother had no say in any of this. Father decided everything. My mother did once ask what sort of son-in-law he was hoping for. He didn’t answer.
No, Ann, I’m not going to be like my father and decide what sort of son-in-law I must have. You choose; I only advise. But that was my situation, Ann, the situation of all young girls then—they could do nothing else but wait for a man to take them from the house, to who knows where, as wife number who knows what, first or fourth. My father and my father alone determined everything. You were lucky indeed if you turned out to be the first and only wife. And that was an extraordinary thing in a factory area. There was more. The girl never knew beforehand whether the man would be young or old. And once married, the girl had to serve this man, whom she had never met before, with all her body and soul, all her life, until she died or until he became bored and got rid of her. There was no other way, no choice. He could be a criminal, a drunkard, and gambler. No girl would know until after she became his wife. You were lucky if the one who came was a good man.
One night, the tuan administrator, Tuan Besar Kuasa, came to the house. I was on edge. My father was rushing here and there giving orders to Mother and me to do this and that, and then canceling them with still other orders. He ordered me to put on my best clothes and once or twice came in to watch me putting on my makeup. I was indeed suspicious—maybe the people’s whisperings were true. My mother was even more suspicious. Nothing had happened yet, but she was already crying and sobbing in a corner of the kitchen, silent in a thousand tongues.
My father, Clerk Sastrotomo, ordered me to come out and serve strong coffee and milk, and cakes. My father had, of course, already given orders: Make the coffee strong.
I came out carrying a tray. The coffee and cakes were on it. I didn’t know what Tuan Besar Kuasa’s face was like. It was not proper for a well-mannered girl to lift up her eyes and face towards a male guest who was not known well to the family, especially if he was white. I kept my head down, placing the contents of the tray on the table. Even so, his trousers were visible; they were made from white drill cloth. And his shoes: big, long. A sign that the man was tall and big.
I felt the eyes of Tuan Besar Kuasa pierce my hands and my neck.
“This is my daughter, Tuan Besar Kuasa,” my father said in Malay.
“It’s time she had in-laws,” responded the guest. His voice was big, heavy and deep, as if it came from his whole chest. No Javanese had a voice like that.
I withdrew again to await new orders. And no orders came. And then the Tuan Besar Kuasa left with father, who knows to where.
Three days later, after lunch, midday Sunday, Father called me. He sat with Mother in the central room. I knelt in front of him.
“Don’t, Papa, don’t,” Mother protested.
“Sanikem, Kem, Ikem,” Father began, “put all your possessions and clothes into your mother’s suitcase. Dress yourself well, neatly, attractively.”
Ah, how many questions attacked my heart! I must carry out all my parents’ orders, especially Father’s. I could hear my mother protest and protest, but father took no notice. I packed all my clothes and possessions. My clothes could have been considered expensive and numerous, compared to those of other girls, so I had looked after them well. I had more than six batiks. Among them were some I had made myself.
And I came out carrying the old brown suitcase, with its dents here and there. Father and Mother were still sitting in the same place. Mother refused to change clothes. Then all three of us left in the carriage that was waiting in front of the house.
Once in the carriage, Father spoke, his voice clear and free of hesitation.
“Look at your home, Ikem. From today this is no longer your home.”
I had to be able to understand his meaning. I heard Mother sobbing. I was indeed being expelled from my home. I also wept.
The carriage stopped in front of Tuan Besar Kuasa’s house. We all got down. That was the first time Father did anything for me: He carried my suitcase.
I didn’t dare look around me. Yet I felt there were thousands of pairs of eyes staring at us in amazement.
I just stood there at the top of the steps of that stone house. My thoughts and feelings only added to my burden, sucking everything from my body. All that was left of my body was its skin. So in the end I was being brought here. Truly, Ann, I was ashamed to have as a father Sastrotomo the clerk. He was not fit to be my father. But I was still his daughter, and there was nothing I could do. Neither the tears nor the tongue of my mother could prevent the disaster. Let alone I, who neither understood nor owned this world. I did not even possess my own body.
Tuan Besar Kuasa came out. He smiled happily and his eyes were bright. And I heard his voice. In a foreign sign-language he invited us to come up. In a flash it became clearer to me just how big and tall his body was. Perhaps three times as heavy as Father. His face was reddish. His nose protruded very much,
enough at once for three or four Javanese noses. The skin on his arms was coarse like an iguana’s skin, and was thick with yellow hair. I gnashed my teeth, bowed my head down further. His arms were as big as my legs.
So it was true that I was to be surrendered to this white, iguana-skinned giant. I must be strong, I whispered to myself. No one is going to help you! All the devils and demons had encircled me.
For the first time in my life, at the invitation of Tuan Besar Kuasa, I sat on a chair the same height as Father. Before the three of us: Tuan Besar Kuasa. He spoke in Malay. I could catch only a few words. During the conversation everything felt as if it were surging and then falling again like the ocean. I could not find a moment of peace. Tuan Besar Kuasa took out an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Father. He also took out a piece of paper with writing on it and Father put his signature to it. Afterwards I found out the envelope contained twenty-five guilders, representing Father’s surrender of me to him, along with the promise that Father would be made cashier after first successfully completing a two-year trial period.
So, Ann, that was the simple ritual whereby a child was sold by her own father, Clerk Sastrotomo. And who was it who was sold: I, myself, Sanikem. From that moment on I lost all respect and esteem for my father—for anyone who has ever sold their own children, for whatever purpose or reason.
I kept my head bowed down, knowing that no one would be able to take up my cause. In this world only Father and Mother held power. If Father was as he was, if Mother could not defend me, what could anyone else do?
Father’s final words:
“Ikem, you must not leave this house without the permission of Tuan Besar Kuasa. You may not return home without his permission and without my permission.”
I did not look at his face as he spoke those words. I kept my head bowed.
Father and Mother went home in the same carriage. I was left on the chair, bathing in my own tears, shaking and not knowing what I must do. The world seemed dark. Looking up from under my bowed head, my vision blurred, I could still see Tuan Besar Kuasa as he entered the house after having said farewell to my parents. He picked up my suitcase and took it into a room. He came out of the room and approached me. He pulled my hand, ordering me to stand. I trembled. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to stand up, or that I was rebelling against an order. I didn’t have the strength to stand. My kain was soaking with sweat. My legs trembled so badly, it was as if my bones and sinews had come loose from their joints. He picked me up as if I were an old pillow, carried me in his arms into the room, and put me down on a beautiful, clean bed, powerless. I was not able even to sit. I rolled over; perhaps I fainted. But my eyes could still vaguely make out the room. Tuan Besar Kuasa opened my suitcase and put my clothes into a big wardrobe. He wiped the suitcase with a cloth and put it inside the bottom section.
He returned to me, where I had rolled over prostrate on the bed.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said in Malay. His voice was low like thunder. His breath blew in my face.
I closed my eyes tightly. What was this giant going to do to me? He picked me up and carried me around the room like a wooden doll. He took no notice of my wet kain. His lips touched my cheeks and my lips. I could hear his breath, which blew hard into my ears. I dared not cry. I dared not move. My whole body was soaked in a cold sweat.
He stood me on the tiles. He caught me again when he saw that I slumped, about to collapse. He picked me up again and hugged me and kissed me. I can still remember his words, though I didn’t then understand them:
“Darling, my darling, my doll, darling, darling.”
He threw me up and caught me on his hip. He rocked me, and that way I got back some of my strength. He stood me up again on the floor. I swayed and he guarded me with his hand so I would not fall. I still swayed, falling headlong onto the edge of the bed.
He strode towards me, and opened my lips with his fingers. With signs he ordered me to brush my teeth. He walked me outside to the back of the house, to the bathroom. That was the first time I saw a toothbrush and how to use it. He waited until I finished, and my gums hurt all over.
Again, with signs, he ordered me to bathe and to scrub myself with scented soap. I carried out all his orders as if they were from my own parents. He waited for me outside the bathroom with sandals in his hands. He put the sandals on my feet. Very, very big—the first sandals I ever wore in my life—made from leather, heavy.
He carried me inside the house to the room and sat me in front of a mirror. He rubbed my hair with a thick cloth until it was dry. I later found out the cloth was called a towel. Then he put oil on my hair—its scent was so fragrant. I didn’t know what kind of oil it was. And it was he too who combed my hair, as if I couldn’t. He tried to set my hair in a bun, but he couldn’t and he let me finish it.
Then he instructed me to change clothes, and he observed all my movements. I felt I had no soul anymore, like a shadow puppet in the hands of the puppet master. After I had finished dressing, he powdered my face. Then he put a little lipstick on my lips. He took me out of the room and called his two maidservants.
“Look after my nyai well!”
And such was my first day as a nyai, a concubine, Ann. And it turned out that his caring and friendly actions drove away some of my fears.
After giving the orders to his servants, Tuan Besar Kuasa left. Who knows to where. The two women babbled about how lucky I was to be taken as a nyai. I did not want to say anything. I didn’t know this house and its customs. Of course there was in my heart the wish to run. But from whom could I seek protection? Then what would I do? I didn’t dare. I was in the hands of someone very powerful, more powerful than Father, than all the Natives in Tulangan.
They prepared food and drinks for me. Every other minute they knocked on the door, offering this and suggesting I take that. I was mute, just sitting on the floor, not daring to touch anything in the room. My eyes were open, but I was afraid to look: Perhaps this was death in life.
That night Tuan came. I heard the steps of his shoes as they came nearer. He came straight into the room. I shuddered. The lamp, which the servants had lit earlier in the evening, threw the light onto his clothes, all white and dazzling. He came up to me. He picked up my body from the floor, put it on the bed, and laid it down there. It seemed I dared not even breathe, afraid that I might enrage him.
I don’t know how long that mountain of flesh was with me. I fainted, Annelies. I didn’t know any longer what was happening.
As soon as I regained consciousness, I knew I was no longer the Sanikem of the previous day. I’d become a real nyai. Later I found out the name of that Tuan Besar Kuasa: Herman Mellema. Your papa, Ann, your true papa. And the name Sanikem disappeared forever.
You’re already asleep? Not yet? Not yet?
Why am I telling you this story, Ann? Because I don’t want to see my child go through such cursed experiences as these. You must marry properly. Marry someone like you, of your own will. You, my child, you must not be treated like a piece of livestock. My child may not be sold to anyone, no matter what the price. Mama will make sure that such a thing does not happen to you. I will fight to preserve the dignity of my child. My mother was incapable of defending me, so she was not fit to be my mother. My father sold me like the offspring of a horse; he wasn’t fit to be my father. I don’t have any parents.
Life as a nyai is very, very difficult. A nyai is just a bought slave, whose only duty is to satisfy her master. In everything! Then, on the other hand, she has to be ready at any moment for the possibility that her master, her tuan, will become bored with her. And she may be kicked out with all her children, her own children, unrecognized by Native society because they were born outside wedlock.
I swore in my heart I would never look upon my home or my parents again. I did not even care to remember them. I never wanted to think about that humiliating event again. They had made me into a nyai like this. So I must become a nyai, a bought slave, a good nyai, the v
ery best nyai. I studied everything possible about my master’s wants: cleanliness, Malay, making the bed, ordering the house, cooking European food. Yes, Ann, I would have revenge upon my parents. I had to prove to them that whatever they had done to me, I would be more worthy of respect than they, even if only as a nyai.
Ann, I lived for one year in the house of Tuan Besar Kuasa, Herman Mellema. I never went out, was never taken anywhere or met any guests. What would have been the point anyway? I myself was ashamed to meet the outside world. Especially acquaintances, neighbors. I was even ashamed to have parents. I ordered all the servants to go. I did all the housework myself. There were to be no witnesses to my life as a nyai. There were to be no reports about me: a degraded woman, without value, no real will of her own.
Clerk Sastrotomo came to visit several times. I refused to receive him. Once his wife came. I wasn’t even prepared to look at her. Mr. Mellema never chided me for my behavior. On the contrary, he was very satisfied with everything I did. It appeared he was very pleased with how I liked to learn. Ann, your papa cared for me very much. But all that could not mend my wounded pride and self-respect. Your papa remained a stranger to me. And indeed your Mama never made herself dependent on him. I always looked upon him as someone I did not really know, who could leave home for the Netherlands at any moment, leaving me, and forgetting everything about Tulangan. Indeed, I prepared myself precisely for that eventuality. If Tuan Besar Kuasa went away, I had to be able not to return to the house of Sastrotomo. Mama learned to be thrifty, Ann, to save. Your papa never asked how I used the shopping money. He himself used to buy the monthly provisions in Sidoardjo or Surabaya.
Within a year I had saved more than a hundred guilders. If one day Mr. Mellema went home, or got rid of me, I’d have capital to take to Surabaya and would be able to begin to trade in whatever I liked.
This Earth of Mankind Page 9