While
This Earth of Mankind
saw the losing battle to defend Annelies brought to a climax, the struggles of Nyai and Minke continue in
Child of All Nations.
The fate of Nyai’s “first child,” the business, is not resolved. But more fundamental is the fate of Minke. With Annelies seemingly lost, how will he deal with the lessons he learned in the course of that battle? His environment has been completely changed; no longer is it limited to his school, his old boarding house, Nyai’s home, and the gallery of Jean Marais, with whom he is a partner in a furniture business. Minke has been drawn into the vortex of colonial society and must now confront all its harsh implications.
In
Child of All Nations
, Minke has become part of the vanguard that would change the face of the East Indies. Like iron on the anvil, he is beaten into shape by the forces of change operating in the early twentieth century. It is not only a time of change for the Indies: China is awakening—a phenomenon Minke has to face personally; Japan is aroused and will soon defeat Russia in war; the Filipino people have created, even if only briefly, the first Asian republic. At home he is confronted by things he had never dreamed of. Most importantly, he becomes involved with representatives of his own people: the peasants. There are certainly new lessons to learn and greater challenges to come in
Child of All Nations.
—Max Lane
A
nnelies had set sail. Her going was as a young branch wrenched apart from the plant that nourished it. This parting was a turning point in my life. My youth was over, a youth beautifully full of hopes and dreams. It would never return.
The sun was moving slowly, crawling like a snail, inch by inch across the heavens. Slowly, slowly—not caring whether the distance it had traversed would ever be traversed again.
The clouds hung thinly across the sky, unwilling to release even a single spray of drizzle. The atmosphere was gray, as though the world had lost its multitude of colors.
The old people teach us through their legends that there is a mighty god called
Batara Kala.
They say it is he who makes all things move further and further from their starting point, inexorably, towards some unknown final destination. A human blind to the future, I could do no more than hope to know. We never even really understand what we have already lived through.
People say that before humankind stands only distance. And its limit is the horizon. As the distance is crossed, the horizon
moves away. There is no romance so strong that it could tame and hold them—the eternal distance and the horizon.
Batara Kala had pushed Annelies across many distances and had pushed me across others. The further apart we were forced, the clearer it became that no one could tell what the future held. The distance opening out before me made me understand she was not just a fragile doll. A woman who can love so deeply is not a doll. Perhaps, also, she was the only woman whose love for me was pure. And the further Batara Kala pulled us apart, the more I came to feel that truly, I loved her.
And love, like every other object and situation, has its shadow. And love’s shadow is called pain. There is nothing without its shadow except light itself.
Whether light or shadow, nothing can escape being pushed along by Batara Kala. No one can return to his starting point. Maybe this mighty god is the one whom the Dutch call the Teeth of Time. He makes the sharp blunt, and the blunt sharp; the small are made big and the big made small. All are pushed on towards that horizon, while it recedes eternally beyond our reach, pushed on towards annihilation. And it is that annihilation that in turn brings rebirth.
I don’t really know whether this beginning to my notes is fitting or not. At the very least everything must have a beginning. And this is the beginning I have written.
Mama and I hadn’t been allowed out of the house for three days nor permitted to receive guests.
A district police head rode up on his horse. I didn’t leave my room. It was Mama who met him, and hardly a moment passed before the shouting started in Malay. Mama called me out of my room. The two of them stood facing each other.
She pointed to a piece of paper on the table: “Minke, the police chief here says we were never under arrest. Yet we haven’t been able to leave the house for over a week now.”
“Yes,” the policeman explained, “you now are being officially notified: The two inhabitants of this house are free to come and go.”
“The police chief here thinks that now, with this written notice, our period of detention never existed.”
These last few days Mama’s nerves had been so on edge that
she was ready to fight with anyone at all, especially a servant of the state. I was reluctant to join in the fight. I could see that Mama, her face fiery red, was ready to erupt with rage.
The police chief jumped on his horse and made his escape.
“Why didn’t you say something?” Mama rebuked me. “Afraid?” Her voice subsided into a low rumble. “They need us to be afraid, Child, no matter how badly we Natives are treated.”
“Ah, everything is all over now anyway, Ma.”
“Indeed, all over. We were defeated, but still they have violated a principle. They have detained us illegally. Don’t ever think that you can defend something, especially justice, if you don’t care about principles, no matter how trifling an issue.”
So she began to lecture me about principles—a lesson I had never learned at school, had never read about in books, magazines, or newspapers. My heart was not yet calm enough to receive such new teachings, no matter how beautiful and good. Yet still I listened.
“Look, no matter how rich you are,” she began, and I listened half-heartedly, “you must resist anyone who takes what is yours, even if it’s only a clump of soil below the window. Not because the soil is so very valuable to you. A principle: Taking someone’s possession without permission is theft. It is not right; it must be opposed. And in the last few days, it is our very freedom they have robbed us of.”
“Yes, Ma,” I answered, hoping that she would end her lecture quickly.
But it wasn’t so easy to stop her and, if I hadn’t been there, she would probably have delivered it to whoever else was around.
“Those who are not faithful to principles become open to evil, to have evil done to them or to do evil themselves.”
Then she seemed to realize that her timing was wrong. “Go out and get some fresh air, child. You’ve been locked up too long. You look stale.”
I went back into my old room, which I had shared so briefly with Annelies. Yes, I needed to go for a stroll, to get some fresh air. I opened the wardrobe to get out a change of clothes. All of a sudden I remembered Robert Suurhof. There was something of his in this wardrobe: a gold and diamond ring.
Mama had thought it was a very expensive gift for a friend to give as a wedding present. The diamond alone was about two
carats. Only somebody who was rich, or who really loved you, would give such a present. Mama’s guess was probably right—Robert Suurhof might indeed have given it as a sign of his love. Now that Annelies had gone, the time had come to return this thing to him, to his family. Now it seemed no mere coincidence that Mama had spoken of principles.
After I’d dressed I opened the wardrobe and took out Annelies’s metal jewelry box. Robert’s ring wasn’t there. I checked the drawer again. It was lying unwrapped in a corner. I picked it up and looked at it closely.
I had never taken much notice of women’s jewelry. Yet I could still enjoy the stone’s pure shining blueness, sparkling within itself, the rays multiplied by its polished walls. Why must I admire this destructive object?
I put back the jewelry box, which I had just opened for the first time. Beside the box was a folder. Inside it was a Bank Escompto bank book, a pile of salary receipts from the business, and two letters from Robert Suurhof. They had never been opened! I fought my desire to open and read them. I had no right, I told myself. She had received those letters before she became my wife.
I rose to leave for my walk, then stood hesitantly at the door. There was something I hadn’t done. Yes, of course: I usually read the newspapers before I went for a walk. Who knows how long it had been since I’d opened one? I returned to the desk, sat down, groped through the pile of mail. The desire to read was gone.
Why was I feeling so listless? I forced myself to start on a newspaper. No. I couldn’t. I separated the letters from the rest of the mail and went through them one by one: from Mother, from my elder brother, from…Robert Suurhof for Annelies. Anger burned in my heart, my jealousy was awakened. From Sarah de la Croix, from Magda Peters, from Robert Suurhof for…from Miriam de la Croix, from…again from Robert Suurhof for Annelies. I began to sort more quickly.
There were eleven letters from Suurhof. Scalding lava erupted into my heart. Lunatic! Damn him!
I took a letter, tore it open, and read:
Miss Annelies Mellema, Goddess of My Dreams…
I didn’t go on. I rushed outside and ordered Marjuki to prepare
a buggy. The ring in my pocket weighed me down. I would go and hurl this thing to the ground before his parents.
“Quickly, Juki!”
The buggy flew off in the direction of Surabaya.
Neither my thoughts nor my vision would focus. All was blurred, without direction. Then, in the distance, I saw an old school friend, one who had never passed his exams. But even concern for my friends had faded away. Only after he had disappeared from sight did I feel ashamed for having treated a school friend so dishonorably. Perhaps he was one who had been sympathetic to us in our troubles.
Near Kranggan I saw Victor Roomers strolling happily along, kicking the roadside pebbles. This Pure European fellow graduate didn’t seem to have anything to do that afternoon. He was wearing white shorts, white shirt, white shoes; as usual, he looked quite fresh. After three years of studying with him, I had grown to like him. He was a lover of athletics; he had a sportsmanlike attitude towards the world and never turned a sour face to it. And most important of all, he held no racial prejudices.
“Hello, Vic!” I ordered Marjuki to pull the buggy over to the side of the road. I jumped down and shook hands. Victor invited me into a roadside drinks stall.
He began quickly: “Forgive me, Minke, for not being able to help you in your difficulties. I came once to see you at Wonokromo, but the Field Police broke up any groups that collected around or near your fence. Some of our other friends also tried to visit you, but in vain. No one could help, Minke, especially not someone like me. I asked Papa about it all once. It had never happened before, he said, a Native daring to oppose a decision of the white court. All our friends regretted not being able to ease your suffering. We truly share your sorrow in all this, Minke.”
“Thank you, Vic.”
“Where are you off to? You look so pale.”
“Would you like to come along?”
“Very much, but I can’t just now. Where are you going?”
“I’ve got a bit of business to fix up at Robert Suurhof’s house.”
“A waste of time. What do you want to go there for?”
“There is something—”
“Robert’s vanished. Who knows where he’s gone,” Vic said casually, as if nothing of note had happened.
“Vanished?” Somehow it didn’t feel right to use that word about a fellow graduate.
“Yes. So you haven’t been reading the newspapers. Robert’s name wasn’t mentioned. It was Ezekiel’s name that was printed.”
“You’re right, I haven’t been reading the papers. You mean the Ezekiel who owns the jewelry shop?”
“Who else? Surely there is only one Ezekiel left in this world, eh?”
The diamond ring jumped in my pocket, piercing my thighs and demanding to be taken to Ezekiel’s shop. So Suurhof had stolen it.
“That’s the kind of person our friend Robert Suurhof is,” Vic said with disappointment. “He had big ambitions. He wanted to master the world in a week. In the end…”
“Oh, so now it’s
in the end
, Vic. Robert stole from Ezekiel’s.”
“If I were you, Minke, perhaps I wouldn’t be reading newspapers either. You’ve been through too much lately.”
“Forget it, Vic. Tell me about Robert.”
The diamond ring started jabbing and stabbing me in the thigh again. Imagine what would happen if a policeman stopped and frisked me; it would mean another trial.
“It’s just like any other crime story. It always starts with someone’s great ambition to overwhelm the world in a week. Pity the Suurhofs, Mr. and Mrs. Suurhof. Both were already so gaunt, perhaps they’re even worse now. Two of their children gave up school altogether just so Robert can graduate from H.B.S. Straight after graduating, he turns into a bandit, and a cheap bandit at that.”
“What did he take from Ezekiel’s?”
“Not even that! If he’d robbed Ezekiel’s shop, at least he’d have had some style. At least he would have had to fight several neighborhood guards or speak with a golden tongue and outwit them. All he did was rob a Chinese grave, shaming his school friends, his school, and his teachers. It’s lucky he’s disappeared and escaped arrest. Who knows where he is now?”
“I know where he is. But keep on with the story.”
“The story’s quite simple. Remember how he used to carry on about becoming a lawyer? His parents would never have been
able to pay for it, especially as he’d have had to finish another five years of H.B.S. in Holland. His parents could never pay his boat fare, let alone his school fees there. They’re both ill; they’ve used up all their money for medicines. Ah! That Robert! He wanted to be rich, to have a wife of unrivaled beauty, to be number-one man, a lawyer—and all in a week. Straight after graduating he goes and knocks down the watchman at the Chinese cemetery, hitting him from behind and stealing from one of the graves.”