Stories from Deli

Java Bode 06-12-1897

Medan, November 1897

Things are anything but quiet here with all the festivities and celebrations. As soon as one event ends, another is already being announced. In my previous letter, I had to devote considerable space to one such event, and once again, I must start with a party. However, the story of this celebration is a bit different from usual because I am about to recount a party that was a complete flop.

Once upon a time—no, that beginning won’t do—there was an Italian artist who had somehow lost his way here. How he got here doesn’t matter, but the man was here and had every right to call himself an artist, as his violin playing was indeed very talented. Although Deli is an excellent place, the man didn’t find what he had hoped for and seriously considered returning to the land of lemons, but he lacked the necessary funds for the journey. However, there was a solution: with the cooperation of several dilettantes, he gave two concerts at the “Witte Sociëteit,” and lo and behold, the money was nearly there.

Now, our Sultan got the idea—or perhaps someone gave him the idea—that such a concert was quite nice and that the Italian gentleman, with the help of these ladies and gentlemen dilettantes, about eight in number, should also come and perform at his residence. After much haggling, it was agreed that the man would receive 200 guilders for it, and now he only had to secure the cooperation of the various ladies and gentlemen, and the opportunity would be there to soon set sail for home with a nice sum of money. The various collaborators were, of course, immediately willing to help the man once more, and it was soon decided that the concert would take place, and a date was set.

But for whom would they be playing? This remained a secret for a while, until it finally leaked out that the audience would consist of the Sultan and his court, as well as the higher officials and officers. The term “higher officers” referred to the colonel and those of lower rank down to the captains. Where the list of higher officials ended, I do not know, and it’s difficult to determine, as officials here, with a few exceptions, are all equally high. I believe that the person who compiled the list came to the same tricky conclusion because, in the end, three days before the event, an invitation list was circulated among all the officials. The Gordian knot was thus cut, and everything was going smoothly.

However, not everyone is an artist, and among the dilettantes were several non-officials who believed that now that official invitations were being issued, they and their families also had the right to an invitation. Heads were put together, and one of the gentlemen, who happened to be both a dilettante and an official, went to the residency office to present the dilettantes’ request for invitations for non-officials. Just as there was no altering the pronouncements of the late lady who, seated on a tripod at Delphi, could read the future, there was also no changing the plans that had taken root in the minds of some authorities, and so it was here. The requested invitations were not forthcoming, and the artists, who had gathered the evening before the concert, decided not to perform.

The next morning, the resident was informed of this in a detailed letter, and he knew nothing better to do than to turn to the official who had arranged the invitations and instructed him to rectify what he had spoiled. However, the artists stood their ground, united as one.

Oh, what audacity! Never before seen here, defiance against the established authorities by a handful of clerks and shopkeepers—what a disgrace. And worse still, the official dilettantes sided with the unwilling, and the Italian was shuffled away. Neither telephoning nor sending messages via assistants helped; the concert did not take place. The soirée, however, did go on. In a hurry, even the officers below the rank of captain were gathered together, and until five in the afternoon, the telephone did not stop ringing to invite all those previously forgotten but otherwise very useful people for a soirée.

It was as if fate was playing a joke; our battalion’s music was on duty for the “Witte,” and the Manila band was playing at the International Club in Blantjey. The result of all this was that when the guests arrived, they were surprised to hear a barrel organ. The dancing took place to its music, and as heavy rain poured down, the guests were treated to a split or lemonade, as they preferred, and those who didn’t wish to dance could take a seat at neatly arranged game tables, though the cards were missing. At one o’clock, the last guests returned home cold and hungry, although several still claimed the next morning that the party was a great success.

Nevertheless, it is a fact that many residents felt insulted by the organization of this event, and in the end, the Sultan gets blamed for the failure. At least, according to the official in charge of the invitations, but the general public understands very well that when the Sultan makes a public appearance, the administration must be there to protect him from making such blunders. The Italian artist, who was later found again, did, however, personally perform a few numbers for the Sultan and his household.

And so, this storm in a teacup is not yet over because the Sultan is giving another party these days, which I hope will be better prepared for His Highness’s sake. At least now, he won’t be shortchanged when it comes to music, as the Deli Company, undoubtedly grateful for the results of the 1896 harvest, presented him with a colossal orchestrion that was recently installed.

The theft case against the Deli Company has finally been adjudicated. The investigation into this case took only eleven months, indeed a trifle. The three men convicted looked rather poorly, one of whom had to be more dragged than walked into the courtroom. This is due to beriberi, which our prison seems to breed. Imagine someone who is innocent being locked up there for a short or long time. Ten to one, they come out with beriberi after being released. But the government has no right to lock up even the guilty in a cell where people die like rats. If a coolie is beaten by an administrator or assistant, that administrator or assistant is sent to Batavia, and it becomes a matter of importance. “Thou shalt not,” says the government, “beat the coolie who does not do his duty,” and this is said from a humanitarian point of view. “Send them to me,” says the government, “and they will not escape their punishment.” To begin with, they are placed in a cell, within the walls of which a stay of one month is enough to come out either dead or with beriberi. Many coolies, who know better, would rather take a good beating than be sent to Medan.

I regret that I cannot provide you with statistics on the disease and mortality rates in our prison; nor can I do so for our coolie hospital, where only convicts are treated, as free natives or Chinese are impossible to get in there. They also die there in droves.

But, to return to the matter at hand: the 8,000 guilders that the Deli Company lost in this theft case have only been partially recovered. Where the rest is, one of the convicted men most likely knows, and he is probably keeping it as a nest egg for the time when he, assuming he doesn’t die in the meantime, is released. The cashier of the Deli Company, meanwhile, now that it has been revealed how the matter transpired, has had his account relieved of that amount.

The former head administrator, Mr. P. Kolff, who will be taking Mr. Cremer’s place in the management, is here for a short time to settle his affairs. His departure has resulted in some changes in the office staff of the head administration and the definitive appointment of the acting head administrator.

Always looking to expand, the Deli Company has set its sights on the lands in Tamiang and secured the lion’s share of them. This was made all the easier because there seems to be a regulation that only large companies may be granted land in Tamiang. Why and by whom this regulation was created, I do not know. Especially if the Deli Railway Company’s plans are soon carried out, it could be as safe there as it is in Deli. It is not yet safe there, as evidenced by the incident with the non-commissioned engineer who was attacked by Acehnese or other natives while building a bridge and barely escaped.

The Deli Railway Company now plans to make its line to Tamiang as broad as those in Deli, Langkat, and Serdang. This is probably related to the fact that a concession for a narrow gauge railway in Langkat from Stabat to Pangkalan Berandan had already been granted or was only awaiting the Governor-General’s approval. Now it will be broad gauge, which is much more valuable, but it’s a hard pill to swallow for the first applicant.

Returning to the festivities: we had three opportunities to go out this month. First, there was another evening at “Gezelligheid.” The association successfully performed the well-known “Pension Scholier,” which was excellently staged. Then we had Maeth Piazza, who certainly outshone the collaborating dilettantes, whose performances were also very commendable, but whether she fully met the high expectations of many, I doubt. We are generally easily pleased here, as the loud applause proved. Finally, we have the cinematograph, which is too familiar to you to require further comment.

The Datoe of Hamperan Perak recently returned from a trip to Java. The reason for this trip is unknown to me, nor do I know why this influential native leader was imprisoned by the Sultan of Deli for several months before his trip. Some say that he failed to show the proper respect to the Sultan, but it seems to me that such treatment of a highly regarded leader among the natives is a bit too much. It is also questionable whether the Sultan has the right to imprison such a high-ranking nobleman on his own authority and hold him for several months.

Well, what the lords do, the citizens must praise. For example, the construction of our market. If one didn’t know better, one might think that everyone just builds as they please. However, we do have proper building regulations and a building inspector who enforces those regulations, at least when it comes to collecting fees. But it seems he doesn’t concern himself much with anything else, and there’s no sign of a clear building line. Here, four meters from the road; there, right on the road; here, a house stands askew to the road as if it was thrown together rather than built, and the number of corners and recesses is countless.

Again, what the lords do, the citizens must praise. For example, the lack of enforcement when it comes to clearing away the many filthy dogs that roam around here, and the fact that Chinese and natives, afflicted with leprosy and various other disgusting diseases, are allowed to wander around freely.

Finally, the ban on importing cattle from the Straits has been lifted, and a slight drop in meat prices is noticeable. However, the four-week quarantine period is highly criticized by experts. That time is unnecessarily long and makes importing cattle an expensive affair. Those involved in importing and slaughtering cattle will ensure they don’t lose out, so once again, it is the general public who ends up paying the price.

The same applies to the issue of covering a shortfall in the Indian budget, according to a telegram recently published in the Deli-Courant. Why not find it by increasing the tax on tobacco and petroleum? An extra cent per pound or bushel would be fine. Now it’s found by taxing salt, matches, and various other daily necessities of the natives and the common man.