Stories from Deli

The tobacco harvest was in. The last bundles, after being dried in the drying barns on the plant ways, were taken to the fermentation shed, where the entire crop of millions of tobacco leaves, after undergoing the fermentation process, was to be sorted by color and length of the leaves. The field coolies, who had planted, cared for, and harvested the tobacco in their fields, had moved from the congsi sheds to the large barracks on the company yard, and the assistants had also moved back into the more permanent houses at the fermentation shed. The nature of the work had changed completely. 

The Chinese, whose skin color had become even more brown than that of the indigenous people through daily labor in the scorching sun, and who had for many months handled the heavy tools needed in the field work, now sat all day on a small bench next to each other in long rows sorting the tobacco leaves. The bundles, squatting opposite them, arranged the sorted leaves according to their length. These bundles were checked in the so-called reception room, then placed on separate stacks to be passed through the hands again later, before they were pressed into square bales, ready for shipment. Especially in the first weeks of this ‘sanding period’, these activities in the fermentation shed were something that the strong Chinese field coolies had to get used to. 

Out there in the tobacco fields it had been hard physical labor day in, day out, and now they sat still all day on their bench with no movement other than picking up the leaves, opening them, judging them and putting them in a particular box according to their needs. depending on the color. As soon as it was light enough in the morning, they went in until noon, after which they started again at one o’clock until dark. They were rewarded according to the number of bundles submitted and approved, and this was so skimpy that they were forced to work hard all day long if they were to earn some adequate wages. Yet they did have time to spend a while in the ‘retirade’ to smoke a straw and chat with their comrades. However, this sanding time was also far from pleasant for the European assistants. They too had walked out all day in field time under the high sky with nothing but bright sunlight and trees and plants around them. 

These months of stay in the great outdoors had left its mark on their whole being. Outside of that, there was always something unexpected to be arranged, to rectify unforeseen setbacks and to prevent imminent disasters, and as a result, there had been continuous action in their work. Added to this was the proud joy, which only he knows who creates something; the joy of the farmer, who sees from a handful of seed, through the miracle of growth, a valuable product arise and who leads that growth day-in, day-out. The everyday pleasure, yes, the opulence of the planter’s life, of getting up in the morning while it is still dark and then seeing the dawn come in the crisp morning until all of nature is overwhelmed by the sunlight. 

Then to go out into the fields, where there is life and vigor everywhere, and where the good soil makes its products wash in innumerable forms. But now they too are locked up within the four walls of the great fermentation shed and walk all day through the corridors between the sorters and the bundlers, with the sole task of keeping order. As with all work at a Delian tobacco company, strict discipline is observed here; in fact no word may be spoken and when a conversation begins among the sorters, the assistant’s voice soon sounds: “diam!” or ‘toetoep moeloet’! (shut up, shut up) and then the silence has gone back their looks, like those of captive animals-turned. Then out through the barred windows, where the bright sunlight shines over the lawns and palms, and they crave the eyes that the big doors open and the day’s work is full again — look. Two assistants lived together in a double house on the yard; they lived in perfect harmony, good friends as they were, and fraternally shared the food and drink supplied to them by a fine Chinese cook. 

Coming home from the fermentation shed, they lavished themselves with the water from the barrel in the bathroom and then appeared in a clean white suit or lighter clothes on the front where they settled down for a short drink, that ge-gallery, from many pits , gin, existed. Usually they had little to say to each other. Every day was a pure copy of the previous one in this period of their planter’s life and both experienced the same thing over and over again during the monotonous walk through the corridors past the sorters, where there was nothing to experience. The spirited drinks before supper were therefore always very welcome to brighten up again, as they were relaxing on a long lounger by the large round table with marble top on the front porch. They were therefore well supplied with it. 

Their boy Ong Lie continuously replenished it from the kedeh, the Chinese small shop at the yard, and they paid the monthly bill of the shop book together without checking. But that night one of them looked at that book out of boredom and found that several bottles of sherry had been bought the previous month. Since they had both always remained faithful to the old Dutch folk drink and hardly ever indulged in a foreign product such as sherry, it seemed clear that Ong Lie made use of it. That was a discovery, who brought some life back to their lives of these months without emotions and the situation was discussed at length. The easiest thing, of course, was to call that guy right now and beat him under the necessary curses with immediate dismissal. But for that they had to have clear proof of his lust for sherry and moreover Ong Lie was a good cook, whom they would not like to miss. After a long discussion, an original solution was found and preparations for this were made immediately. That long tail would like it! 

After they had somewhat subdued their joyful excitement about their plan so that they seemed to lie quietly in their seats, their cry came out loud, “Boy!” through the silent house and obliging as ever, Ong Lie hurried to the front veranda, with the seeds on a tray, because it was now time, as usual, for that. ‘Take that gin again, we want to drink sherry tonight,’ he was told and with a ‘saja, tuan’ the man disappeared again with the square pot and the small glasses, deep from the ice box, and brought up a bottle of sherry. the one with two glasses to his masters, after which he went back to the kitchen to prepare dinner. The two friends had the greatest pleasure when they each drank a few glasses of this extra dry drink and the contents of the bottle were noticeably reduced. Then the plan was executed! One of them disappeared into the bedroom with the bottle and … well, for such a devilish plan you had to be a Delian of tempo-target, then he watered a quantity in the bottle, so that it looked like, that no more than two glasses had been served. Just shake well and there was nothing special to see: exactly the same color! 

With a straight face they called Ong Lie again and indicated to him that he should take the sherry with him again and if you had to bring it, which order was promptly carried out – usually the pait: the bottle of sherry disappeared back into the ice box and the pait came. on the table. Afterwards they ate very well, because Ong Lie might take his share of the spirits, but for him he cooked was mainly a specialty in sauces and desserts – excellent and delicious, of which they always served themselves lavishly. They therefore reconsidered their intention to fire this boy if his drinking theft came to light and were confident that the action taken would cure him of that tendency. For the next few days they resumed their monotonous jogging through the corridors in the fermentation shed, drinking their patties when the day’s work was done, but after a week, the time had come to uncover the convincing evidence of the sherry theft. They installed themselves as usual on the front porch and when Ong Lie came with the pait he was told that they now wanted sherry again and when the well-known bottle was brought in they saw immediately that its content was considerably less than tempo aimoe = used to be 79… there had been two glasses entered from this bottle… a week ago. 

The stratagem had succeeded, and the perpetrator, who deposited the bottle on the table with the most innocent face, had flown into it! “Tell me, Ong Lie, how did you like that sherry,” one of them asked, threateningly. But he pretended not to understand that question. He was not in the least taken aback and replied, calmly, that he never consumed alcohol. “Then I tell you that you are lying,” burst the other, “last time this bottle was almost full when you took it with you and now there are at least four fewer glasses in it. And nobody else but you could have drunk it, bangsat. 

That sherry must have been delicious, wasn’t it? You can get a lot of that from us … ‘But Ong Lie very calmly allowed this accusation to pass, and when the touans had eaten, he confessed that he often used sherry for dessert or in the gravy of the meat and that this had also been the case in the pudding that the toeans had eaten this afternoon: two glasses had been poured in from this bottle … Thunderous curses sounded in two voices after this announcement and made the passing natives pause for a moment on the road in front of the house: what were those touans raving about again … ‘Diam loo, shut up dude,’ roared she said to the terrified Ong Lie, “bring beer right away, lots of beer,” and indeed it took a lot of beer to wash away the nasty taste they now suddenly felt coming on. The bottle of sherry was thrown into the yard and they would never drink that drink again. 

Ong Lie retired to the kitchen, shaking his head, not understanding the unexpected turn of the charge that he had been drinking sherry. 

But you could expect anything from those touans. Indeed: those old tobaccos were weird boys. what were those touans raving about again …

Gorter, tabakkers

Hendrik Gorter (1881-1956), assistent at Mabar (1912), Administrateur in pabatoe and Badja Lingei (1920s)