Stories from Deli

Zutphensche courant 25-08-1891

We obtained the following from a private letter from Deli: Not even eight days ago, I wrote to you, but since then, I have had the suspicion that you did not receive the letter. I had given permission to the gardener of the Tandil of Congsie to go to Medan, and I wanted to take this opportunity to send you some news. I sent my letter through my water carriers to the Congsie. However, the gardener gave the letter to someone who was supposed to be near the post office. Although it could have still worked out, when I asked if the letter had been delivered, I was told it had, but the postage of $0.15 that I had attached was returned to me; my gardener had forgotten to include it! So, I am starting again, hoping that some of this may interest you.

Starting with my house: like all European houses here, it stands on stilts about two meters above the ground. About five meters from the stairs is the field road. No one except my own staff dares to come near the house. If a coolie has something to ask, he comes to the bottom of the stairs and waits until I ask what he wants; calling out or coming up the stairs is strictly forbidden. If no one is home, he waits until someone comes and does not leave. No matter what comes—a message or a letter—they must never be given to a servant. Anyone delivering a letter always receives one back, even if it only says “received.” Only the kramat (scribe), the Javanese, and sometimes the mandor (Javanese overseer) can read and write using the Latin alphabet. They write Malay in Latin letters, while the others who can read and write use Arabic script, and the Chinese naturally use Chinese characters. Occasionally, a Javanese might know a bit of Dutch if he has been in Batavia or served in the Dutch army before.

Writing by lamp light is nearly impossible. As soon as it gets close to 7 p.m. and the lights are turned on, a swarm of mosquitoes, flying ants, and various other insects appear. There is usually no time for it during the day. I spend a lot of time on horseback and have been particularly busy lately due to kalang fires, which are a kind of grass or prairie fire. Horses are only used here for riding; oxen are used for work.

In my various roles, I sometimes function as a civil registrar and as a doctor. When a Javanese wants to get married, he pays—or rather, he owes—the Kebon (plantation) $30, and then I give him a letter stating that I approve of the marriage, and the matter is settled. It’s even easier here than in America. I have officiated six marriages so far. Chinese women are not allowed here, so sometimes a Chinese cook (coolies are not allowed to have wives) marries a Javanese woman. Such a woman, who is said to “follow a Chinese” (ikut), is despised by the other Javanese and can never marry a Javanese man afterward. The opposite is true for a woman who was once a housekeeper for a European; she later represents double value and is very eagerly taken as a wife by a Javanese man.

Since the doctor from Medan only comes here once a month or every two months, and only in very serious cases, I treat common ailments even though I have never studied medicine. A little instruction and some experience might make me somewhat knowledgeable; treating about ten patients twice a day, along with a few in the hospital, means that I am becoming quite familiar with it. Sometimes I worry that a patient might receive the wrong medicine, especially since it is difficult to understand what a Chinese patient is suffering from. This happens quite often when there isn’t a good interpreter available, but the coolies have the utmost confidence in the “Tuan’s” knowledge. Trust in the doctor is everything.

For relaxation, we sometimes go hunting at night during a bright moon. I had discovered a tiger track near the house a couple of times and decided to go out at night with a friend. We, along with a Malay armed with a gun and two Javanese with machetes and spears, ventured into the forest. We walked in a dry ditch, previously dug for drainage, about 7 feet deep and 9 feet wide. We discovered many tracks of tigers, wild boars, and deer. Near the end of the ditch, we had seen nothing until suddenly, a large tiger jumped over the ditch right in front of us and ran into the forest; there was no time to shoot, and we had to return without success since the forest was too dense to pass through. It was the first time I had seen such wild animals in nature, and I must admit, I didn’t feel very comfortable. From the tracks we carefully observed, it seems there might be a nest with young ones nearby, which we hope to find later.

Now a bit about the people we work with, namely Chinese, Javanese, Malays, Bataks, and Klingen (South Indians), their activities, and way of life. As you know, the Chinese wear a long braid or queue. Except for a small round spot the size of a saucer, they are completely bald. Despite this, they often walk bareheaded in the hottest sun, while they are required, like every Javanese, Malay, Batak, etc., to remove their hat and close their umbrella, if they have one, a few steps before encountering a European and to keep them off until the European has passed.

The two biggest punishments for a Chinese are cutting off his braid or his ears. They care little about their lives, or even if they get beaten; among my workers, I have four who are under 90 and missing an ear. The Chinese laborer, dressed in his Sunday best, wears dark blue silk trousers, a wide jacket without shape made of the same material, a brown or gray felt hat, and the peculiar small Chinese slippers. The braid, which is braided, is usually coiled up and tied into a bundle at the back of the head. If he wishes to speak to a European, he must remove his hat from a distance and also uncoil the bundle and let his braid hang down.

His work clothes are very simple: a cloth tied around his waist and the typical rattan-woven Chinese hat, about 80 cm in diameter and in the cone shape familiar in Holland. They are very useful in the exploitation of a plantation. The owner buys a piece of forest, has the heavy trees felled by Bataks, and then divides the land into plots, 70 feet wide and 450 feet long. Each piece is given to a Chinese laborer to work on; he has to chop the wood, pile it up, burn it, dig the soil, rake it, plant it, water it, keep it clean, etc. The tobacco that grows is bought from him at fixed prices. He receives an advance twice a month, for example, $2.50. At the final settlement, it is determined what he is still owed or what he still owes. If a Chinese laborer has good papers, he is often contracted for three years with an advance of $30. If he earns enough in a year to pay off his debt, he is free to sign on for another three years with the same advance, provided he is a good coolie. Tools are provided to him on credit, as well as extra help if needed from Javanese laborers. Tobacco seeds, drainage, and road construction done by Javanese are the responsibility of the Kebon.

A Chinese can live on $5 per month, and a Javanese on $4. The Javanese earns between $6 and $9 depending on his skill. A Chinese usually needs more, and only a good coolie can make it. If Chinese or Javanese coolies get hold of money, they soon spend it. The Javanese buy clothes, weapons, and silver jewelry. The Chinese buy gold rings and a type of bracelet and belt made of English coins. Once he has these, he is satisfied and desires nothing more. Anything else he earns is gambled away. If they win, they gamble until it’s all gone again. Then they are content. A rare, very thrifty one might return to his homeland after a few years with $300 and sign up again as a newcomer for 30 to 40 dollars.

In my field No. 40, I have a Theam who is as superstitious as can be. Since we have had dry weather for about six weeks now, he said that prayers for rain should be offered, with the result that for the past eight days, there have been three flags in each field made of yellow paper with a God stamp in red, gold, and black. These things cost six cents each and signify a prayer for rain. (To be continued.)