From Jail to Jail. Tan Malaka
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each other and then work together again?”54 I had no objections, and we went home as usual.
It was Tuan W’s practice to go around from kampung to kampung in his car and to send in a report at the end of the month on his work at Senembah Mij. For me, on the other hand, the method and basic principles for teaching coolie children were beginning to become clear: I felt I had to know the character, wishes, and inclinations of each child. I also felt it necessary to establish one school as a model. In order to accomplish all this, one could not play Tuan Besar with the coolie children, nor fool around driving in a car from school to school. At first I did accompany Tuan W on these jaunts, but after several trips I became aware that they only wasted time and gasoline.
I considered it crucial to be close to the parents as well as to the children. This would be very easy in genuine Indonesian society, but it was difficult on the plantation. I was caught between the society of the Dutch mad with tropical fever and that of the contract coolies. If I were too close to the Dutch, then I would not have the full confidence of my own people. But, on the other hand, if I were too close to my own people the Dutch would be suspicious of me.
[60] On this question of choosing a position, the decision was always made according to my conviction and obligations. Gradually I was able to get coolies or other workers to come to my house to discuss things. Naturally it was not only the life of the coolie children that we would discuss, but all aspects of the life of the plantation coolies. I understood immediately how difficult it would be to improve the lot of the coolie families. They were bound by all kinds of regulations in their contract, which they could not even read, much less understand, but of which they lived in fear, like a pact with the devil.55 They were bound by conservatism, ignorance, darkness, and the evil desires deliberately fanned by gambling. They had absolutely no right or possibility to improve their fate through a legal trade union. The whole of colonial society was full of traitors or prospective traitors, and the society of the contract coolies had more than its share.
The fever-maddened Tuan Besar were whispering among themselves and had their clubs ready to beat me. It was not only my contact with the contract coolies that they thought was insupportable, for they were also concerned about some articles in the liberal Medan newspaper, the Sumatra Post,56 and about my connections with leaders of the Deli railway strikers.57
One night Hazejager rushed into my house. “They have it in for you,” he said. “They (the Tuan Besar of the plantation) think that Pontjo Drio (a correspondent of the newspaper Sumatra Post) is really Tan Malaka. They think that you have something to do with the Deli railway strike since you have spoken with the strike leaders and have even been visited by them here. They have also been hearing about the meetings in your own house with the contract coolies.”58
The next day I was called to the office of the deputy Tuan Kebun, the Tuan Kebun himself being on leave. The deputy presented all these charges to me and asked whether they were in fact true. I denied the accuracy of some of the assertions, for they had indeed been distorted. As to the Pontjo Drio matter, I asked him to check with the Sumatra Post to see for himself who was lying. Furthermore, I stated my right as a free Indonesian to help raise the level of my own people and to have contact with whomever I thought fit. Finally, I protested against the plotting behind my back by people whose names I did not have to mention. I told the deputy Tuan Kebun that if such slanders were continued I would, if necessary, ask to meet these secretive slanderers head on. We parted amicably.
[61] I had indeed written for the Sumatra Post, though not under the name of Pontjo Drio.59 But such an activity was my absolute right and my own responsibility. Similarly, my contacts with the leaders of the Deli railway strike or with the contract coolies were entirely my own affair.
Herr Graf, the leader of the plot against me, possessed Ausdauern (persistence) in his slanders, as he did in all his work.60 But Hazejager was also endowed with this well-known German characteristic, only with him it was a persistence in honesty to his friends. And neither was the Tuan Maskapai ready to accept accusations against someone he knew, and his German Ausdauern made him want to come face to face with the accused before believing anything.
Once more Hazejager raced up to me. “Tuan Besar Graf is continuing to whisper all those accusations against you. And now he is adding to his own opinion that Tan Malaka does not know the meaning of gratitude. ‘Just think,’ he says, ‘that inlander Tan Malaka, who was formerly supported by Herr Dr. Janssen in the Netherlands, is now betraying him. Schrecklich nicht wahr? [Terrible isn’t it?]’”
The following morning a rushed and panicky Dr. Janssen arrived at my house. I had not yet got dressed nor had a chance to invite my guest to take a seat before Dr. Janssen was sitting down and speaking with a red face and labored breath. All the accusations—about meetings with the contract coolies, writing in the newspaper, and having contact with the strike leaders of the Deli railway—were laid out before me once again.
“If this is true,” said Dr. Janssen, “it is a stab in the back.”
I answered with a question: “And do you also believe the other slander, that I studied in the Netherlands at your expense?”
“Ach, ja,” said Dr. Janssen. “I don’t believe a word of it, and that is why I came to see for myself. Get dressed quickly,” he continued. “This morning there is a meeting of some of the Dutch employees from the whole of Senembah Mij. and I would like you to be present.”
[62] I did not for one moment imagine that that morning I would be among the Tuan Besar from all branches of Senembah Mij. And what was even more amazing, none of the Tuan Kecil were present, and neither was my colleague who had wanted to become the “head” above me. It is understandable that I was quite surprised when Dr. Janssen addressed a question to me about the plantation schools. In fact my colleague Tuan W should have been present to give such information.
The question came out of the blue, while I was looking out of the corner of my eye at all the Tuan present. I knew only one or two of them, including the Tuan Besar from Tanjung Morawa, Herr Graf, Enemy No. 1. Whenever my eye caught his, he quickly turned away. He was indeed a deceitful person; even if he did possess that German Ausdauern, he was unable to meet the eye of an inlander who stood in the right.
In such an atmosphere I felt it inappropriate to give a lengthy discourse on the education of coolie children. In addition, I had already made a decision as to my future work. I spoke briefly, directing my remarks to the following conclusion: “The primary goal of the education of coolie children, as with children of any nation or class, is to sharpen their intelligence, strengthen their will, and refine their feelings. Aside from this, we must implant the desire and habit of working with the hands, and the feeling that such work is valuable for the society and is no less honorable than work with the brain alone. Senembah Mij. in particular, and Deli in general, would not lose by having many skilled and unskilled laborers in the area who were capable and efficient and who possessed the desire to have a high standard of living. It is true that there would be no immediate return on the money that Senembah Mij. invested in this way, but in the long run this expenditure would be repaid many times over in increased efficiency and consumption.”
[63] I was aware that I was speaking to the deaf, but it was well for these Tuan Besar of the plantation to hear that the coolie children were human too. Here and there I had heard many arguments that schooling for the coolie children was just a “waste of money.” What is the point of educating coolie children? They will become even more “impertinent” than their fathers. This or that foreman can write and count a little, and for this five years in primary school was not necessary. Kario had only attended the village school but was able to run the electrical system. What sort of schooling did Mubal or Sastro have? Yet they could make up all kinds of medicines. Ninety-nine percent of the coolies on the plantation were illiterate, but they could plant tobacco. You just have to order the coolie children to hoe, and that is the end of the matter. To give them schooling in agriculture, trades, or teaching would only be creating havoc in the plantation, increasing the number of malcontents, and increasing the membership of Sarekat Islam.
This was the logic of the Dutch