Stories from Deli

A vast landscape appeared before our eyes. Hilly terrain. Everywhere, as far as we could see, it burned and smoked. Between the thick clouds of smoke we saw Chinese coolies walking, dressed only with a loincloth on their heads and a pointed bamboo hat.
A few months ago it was all still wood, said Huug.

Are those tree trunks not being dug out, or are they left standing?
Excavation would take too much time and money. As soon as the harvest is off the field, the ground remains fallow for a few years. They will of course come back to the same department later. The tobacconists go every year with their whole thing and hew further on. They never plant twice in succession on the same soil.
Why is that? Surely a great surface area is needed in this way?
Yes, but it seems to be so, I am not a tobacco baker but I believe it is to prevent mucus disease and degeneration.
Our society also has tobacco companies, doesn’t it?
Unfortunately, yes!
What do you mean? Why a pity?
Oh well we have never had anything but a loss on tobacco. Sometimes crop failure, then rainfall, in short, always something different.
And the rubber?
It works beautifully, especially with the current prices. We don’t get any lightning on it though; what the rubber earns, the tobacco will lose.
Here we are already at kampoeng Soeka Manis. Now we’ll be there soon.
What is the name of the chief administrator?
Seggeli, it’s Swiss.
How is that sir, kinda tricky?
Is pretty good. Not angry, but a bit superficial.
A Swiss, you said, are there not enough Dutchmen in the Dutch colony to hold the leading positions? Apparently not. Half of the bosses are foreigners.