Footsteps (49 page)

“She is the daughter of a king, a Princess, with a European education, and beautiful. It would indeed be totally inappropriate for her to be married as a second, third, or fourth wife,” I said.

“So you have the same opinion as I do?”

“I agree with you totally.”

He seemed happy, pleased.

“It’s a pity, however,” he continued. “A prospective husband should properly come to me and formally ask for permission to marry her. If you were in my place, Child, perhaps you would also feel the same way?”

“Of course,” I answered quickly.

“In the eyes of others, will it not be a humiliation for me, as a father and a king, to have to go to the man myself and ask him to marry her?”

“Everything is determined by our situation, Bapak, whatever may be our real desires. A man traveling the desert does not sail a ship, and he crossing the oceans does not ride a camel.”

Again he was very pleased with how I answered. He went silent for a moment, inviting me to take some refreshment. He stared up at the sky that was beginning to fade. His eyes wandered all about. He took a pinch of tobacco and started to roll a cigarette. Quickly I fetched a box of cigars that I had brought from Bandung as a present.

He laughed happily and thanked me several times. He put down the leaf he was using to make the cigarette, and tried to open the box of cigars. I took out my pocketknife and opened it for him. He smelled the aroma of the cigars and laughed with satisfaction. Everyone knows that smokers of home-rolled leaf cigarettes don’t like cigars. Cigars are just a status symbol.

“It’s been a long time since I have smoked a cigar, except for that time at your house, Child.”

“If Bapak really likes them, I will make sure you are sent some more.”

“Thank you very much, Child, thank you.”

Then came the sound of the
magreb
drums telling us it was time for eventide prayers. He cleared his throat and stared at me.

“It’s magreb, Bapak.”

“Why don’t you sit in the front room, while I pray, Child.”

“No, allow me to be Bapak’s
makmum.
”

After magreb prayers, we sat down in their far too small parlor. Indeed, the whole house seemed too humble for that of a king, even a king in exile. It was clear that van Heutsz was totally unconcerned about their welfare. (It was only later that I found out that they lived far better in exile than they ever did back in their own village.)

He didn’t resume talking for some time. I myself was preoccupied with my own thoughts about Princess. I was still not in a position where I felt I could honorably propose to the Raja.

“Of course,” he now spoke up, “the kontrolir came here as part of carrying out instructions from the governor-general. Isn’t that so, Child?”

“A kontrolir would never do such a thing without having his orders,” I answered. “And as well as that, the governor-general himself already told me his views about the Princess.”

“Yes, after you told us about that, I started to think…” He couldn’t go on and seemed to be gathering up courage. “I thought…” He stopped again. “Forgive this old man who cannot understand what goes on up there, Child…. But I thought, forgive me, Child, please don’t become angry with me, but I thought, yes, how good it would be if you, Child, were to become Bapak’s son-in-law.”

It was as if the whole of humanity’s happiness suddenly fell upon and enveloped me. I couldn’t speak. What had I dreamed the night before that I should be given such happinesss? Had I done so many good deeds that I should be so blessed?

“Why don’t you say something, Child? I hope you do not feel insulted or humiliated?”

“
Syukur Alhamdulillah
, yes, Bapak. Thank you for showing such trust and belief in me. But should you place so much trust and faith in me, having known me for such a short time, Bapak Raja?”

“I have seen no one more worthy. Moreover, you already know her and she already knows you. Indeed, I know she has both admired and respected you, Child, from afar. And even more so now that she has met you.”

“But what will people say, Bapak? You, a raja, have been exiled by van Heutsz. And everyone sees me as the friend and favorite of the governor-general.”

“I have also given thought to that matter, Child. Through your newspaper, Child, you have helped many people who have been oppressed and exploited by those in authority and with power. None of that can be wiped away because of your relationship with the governor-general. I have thought about all these things. The issue now is only what you yourself think about the idea. I have visited your home. I know you have no wife and live a proper and Godfearing life.”

His last statement opened the door to a new life for me. The Raja wanted us to marry as soon as possible.

In a meeting with van Heutsz a week later, he greeted the news by saying: “There is no one who will be more pleased than I to see you married to the Princess of Kasiruta before I leave the Indies. Congratulations. She is a woman worthy of you.”

And exactly one week later we were married. It was a big event with many guests. Father and Mother came. Several bupatis and other lesser officials also attended. One of van Heutsz’s adjutants arrived by automobile to deliver a giant wreath of flowers and presents for my wife and me. All my friends came, including Mir and Hendrik.

There is nothing worth telling about the party. There was nothing extraordinary about it. Since I had been married so many times already, it left no deep impressions on me. None. It was as if weddings had become a routine experience. Even so there were a few things that I will remember, at least three.

First, my father-in-law, the Raja, was very depressed and saddened that there could be no one from Kasiruta at the wedding. Princess also seemed to be affected the same way. For at least a week they suffered this emptiness, an emptiness that would never be filled. They were far from their homeland, from their people, from the sea and air of their coast, from the beating of the Moluccan drums.

Second, I became the object of gossiped insults: Even his wife came as a present from van Heutsz, people were saying. That was an insult that did hurt. And it hurt even more because it spread throughout the community and there was nothing I could do about it. It would not have been proper to use the paper to rebut the accusation. There was nothing I could do but suffer in silence. And the insults didn’t stop there. They found their ultimate form when people started talking about me as the Prince of Kasiruta. That at least was the name that lasted longest. Others like Nalasona, or Dog Heart, were transformed by my friends into Nalawangsa, or Heart of the People. Other names like Haantje Pantoffel, which means The Shoeshiner, referring to van Heutsz’s shoes, didn’t last long either.

The third thing that happened was something that I would remember for the rest of my life.

It was like this. Mir and Hendrik Frischboten came up onto the wedding dais to congratulate us. Then, after all the guests had
arrived, I went down to talk to them. When I got to Mir and Hendrik, they both stood up.

Hendrik looked strong and fresh and his eyes shone. He shook my hand for the second time. He wouldn’t let go; indeed, he was gripping my hand with both of his: “On this day of your happiness, I can also tell you our good news.” He looked at Mir, and she nodded in agreement. “It appears that your help is already bearing fruit,” and again he looked at Mir, but she turned away. His words were like lightning striking on a clear day. Beginning to bear fruit?

“My help?” I asked.

“One day I will go back to that opium-smoking doctor and give him a present—not just one or two ounces of opium, but several pounds! And for your friend Pengki too, the sinse’s helper.”

I shook his hand happily.

Again he looked at his wife, who then also shook hands with me. It seemed to me that Mir’s eyes were glassy with emotion.

“Say something, Mir, don’t just stand there staring.”

“Thank you for all your kindness and help.”

“It’s a pity that we’re in public like this, Mir. You should give him a thank-you kiss.”

His smile was so open and sincere, a smile that should have freed me from my pangs of conscience.

I
n all of the Indies I was one of only a handful of Natives who followed the official reports on the Indies economy. This information helped me greatly in understanding what was happening in my country.

Europeans dominated all major commercial activity. The lesser commerce that flourished in the ports and harbor towns along the Javanese coast was being gradually taken over from Natives by Chinese traders. Even the Arab traders were rapidly being pushed aside by the Chinese. The Chinese merchants were moving inland as well. There seemed to be only a few places left in Java—Solo, Jogja, Kudus, and Tasikmalaya—where the Natives were able to hold out.

It was this information that made me realize why the Native merchants of Solo and Jogja, otherwise known for their penny-pinching, were suddenly willing to make large donations available from their treasuries to Boedi Oetomo. If BO hadn’t come along, then the money would have gone to whatever other organization seemed to suit their needs at the time.

The batik trade was centered in Solo and Jogja and was still in Native hands. The trade in batik amounted to several hundred
thousand guilders annually. Then there was also the trade in silver and gold crafts. The Native merchants would fight tooth and nail to defend the batik trade from the Chinese. On the other hand the manufacturers of woven hats in Tangerang had all been successfully taken over by the Chinese, who now exported them to Latin America, as well as to France. Solo and Jogja were ready to fight to ensure that the same fate did not befall them.

What my religious teacher, Syech Ahmad Badjened, said was true: Trade is the soul of a society, Tuan. No matter how arid and empty a land might be—like Arabia, for example—if its trade flourishes, so will its people prosper. Even if your country is blessed with rich and fertile land, if its trade is dead and deflated, so too will everything be and so its people will remain poor. Small countries have become great because of their trade, and great countries have fallen because their trading life has withered.

This Arab, who had no Western education at all, had a wealth of practical knowledge and wisdom that was most definitely worth studying and respecting. He had also sent his sons to the university in Turkey where they had learned to master several of the modern European languages. Thamrin Mohammed Thabrie agreed with Badjened’s views. Indeed, he enthusiastically added his own comments.

“The traders are the most dynamic people among humanity, Tuan. They are the cleverest of all people. People also call them “saudagar,” people with a thousand schemes. Only the stupid wish to become employees of the government, people whose minds have already gone to sleep. Look at me. While I have been an employee, all I have ever had to do was follow orders, just like a slave. It’s no coincidence that the Prophet, may Allah’s blessing be upon him, began his career as a trader. Traders understand the realities of life. In commerce people are not concerned with people’s social status. They don’t care if someone is of high or low rank or even a slave. Traders must think quickly. They bring to life that which has become frozen and bring into action that which has been paralyzed.”

What interested me most at this time were the big batik businesses in Solo and Jogja. It wasn’t only the people of the main islands of the Indies who needed batik but also those in the eastern islands, in the Moluccas, as well as in Singapore, Malaya, and Indochina. Even in Siam there were thirty thousand people who
spoke Malay. And there were those in South Africa! And in Ceylon! And Jean Marais, who could create such things of beauty, had to live in straitened circumstances simply because he did not have the talents of a merchant!

This year Europe and the United States were importing a lot from the Indies. Trade flourished and many villages were thus awakened from their slumber. More and more money left the towns for the countryside. In the government there was talk that rodi should be abolished and replaced with a head tax—at least in those villages where money was starting to circulate widely. Things were more prosperous than five years before. The factories in the towns called out for people to leave their paddy fields and gardens to sell their labor in the towns.

Who could escape from the tentacles of trade and commerce? No one! From the time of the womb until old age we are all caught up in the never-stopping traffic of commerce.

I couldn’t get these ideas out of my head. And then I thought: What if we established an organization to unite all those people who were active in commerce, the most progressive and independent people in society? It could be a real power. From the village clerk to the governor-general, everybody’s lives and livelihood were tied up with commerce in one way or another—from every piece of fruit to every granule of sugar. And then there was the boycott!

So I began to visit and talk with Hendrik more often. He was a good and patient teacher. He spent the little free time he had explaining to me what I needed to know about economics and the law, but after a couple of months passed and his time became even more pressed, he suggested I order some books from the Netherlands.

Whether the books arrived or not, I had already made up my mind. Those who were not tied to government jobs, those who were independent, those who traded, who struggled for a livelihood standing on their own two feet, dynamic people with a practical knowledge of the world, these were the people who had to be united.

One afternoon Thamrin Mohammed Thabrie received me in his pendopo.

“So you agree, Tuan Thabrie, that such an organization should be established. One that is multi-ethnic, that has Malay as
its official language, that is not based on the priyayi but on the traders, on those who struggle for a livelihood independently—the free people—and that is based on Islam?”

“Of course I agree. It will then have a broader base than the Sarekat Priyayi. The only problem is finding people honest and responsible enough to look after the finances. The finances will be the lifeblood of the organization, just as they are the lifeblood of home and household.”