Soerabaijasch handelsblad 22-04-1930

Like a grand pleasure yacht, the luxurious passenger ship Op ten Noort lay anchored just a ten-minute walk from the spot where the d’Artagnan had recently departed. The ship’s white color, so fitting for the tropics, evoked a sense of coolness and Dutch cleanliness. Although the Op ten Noort is not a mail ship, it boasts the dimensions of one, with a tonnage of 6000 and all the advantages that come with it. It features a particularly spacious promenade deck, is as comfortable as possible, and equipped with all modern conveniences. Around 11 a.m., the ship weighed anchor, and I embarked on a journey that would take me, over the course of a day, along the same route I had traveled with the French mail ship the previous day, but in the opposite direction. This time, however, we stayed closer to the Sumatran coast, allowing me to clearly see the heavily forested mountains and the lush green islands drifting by. Before lunch, we were served a delightful, cool refreshment on deck in the comfortable rattan chairs: a sorbet made from soursop, which tasted doubly good after not having had such a treat for years. All too quickly, the journey to Deli passed.

The next morning, as we approached Poeloe Berhalla (Island of Wealth) opposite Asahan, I reminisced about the excursions I had undertaken to this island thirty years ago. At that time, I had been tasked by the Deli Company to build quarantine barracks. This was a precautionary measure against the plague from the country where the imported coolies came from. In just one day, the Deli Planters’ Association decided to construct twenty barracks, which would later be taken over by the government—a testament to their efficiency. Equipped with the necessary building materials, Chinese craftsmen, Javanese coolies, and provisions, I set sail a few days after this decision with three junks to this hilly island, which rises 180 meters out of the sea like a giant bouquet.

It was fascinating to see large turtles crawling up the beach to dig holes in which they laid 100 to 150 eggs, each the size of a chicken egg but with a soft shell. After laying the eggs, they covered the holes, allowing the heat of the sand to incubate them. Malays from the nearby Padang-Bedagei would mark the holes with sticks and return later to collect the eggs. The turtles were so large and strong (their shells about 1.5 meters long and 0.80 meters wide) that they could easily carry me while walking. On my second visit to the island to make some repairs, I received a curious visit from an English warship, the Amphitrite, whose crew mistook me for a castaway on what they believed to be an uninhabited island. Learning from the officer who came to rescue me that the captain, Sir Charles Windham, was an avid hunter, I invited him to hunt kidangs (small deer) during my visit to the ship. The captain introduced me to his officers as “Robinson Crusoe, the king of the island,” and he gladly accepted my invitation. He and some of his officers hunted successfully, and my coolies, who assisted them, each received a fine English knife as a gift.

Returning to my story, it was a few hours’ steam from Poeloe Berhalla to Belawan, which became an ocean port in 1921. We docked at the pier, where other ships, including a mail ship ready to depart for the homeland, were also moored. There were numerous warehouses belonging to various trade and agricultural companies. Cars and buses waited outside the customs control gate to quickly transport the newly arrived passengers along the 23-kilometer asphalt road to Medan and then return for more.

The first section of the road to Laboean was completed only in 1915, making it possible for cars to compete with the Deli railway. I decided to travel to Medan by the Deli railway (D.S.M.), but had to wait for an hour, which I spent strolling along the pier, where a few Australian submarines were docked. Later, I learned that Belawan is now visited by half as many ships as the major ports of Java, with a capacity of around 8 million cubic meters. Belawan exports goods worth 175 million guilders, including 75 million guilders worth of tobacco.

Only one other European and I were the sole passengers; the D.S.M. primarily relies on freight transport, which is about three times that of passenger transport.

Memories flooded back as I traveled. I had already covered the first part of the route with Mr. v.d. W. in 1895 when we were working for the Deli Cultuur Mij. Mr. H., an employee of the firm v. N., had given us an open letter to the station master at Titipapan, requesting assistance in getting Singkehs to the Mabar plantation. I revisited this plantation and another, “Saëntis,” where I had worked, from Medan, which I found greatly changed. The station had been significantly expanded, with the platform now twice as long as it was when I left in 1911. Outside the station, a line of sado carriages (two-wheeled carts) and taxis waited for passengers. I learned that there are now 6,000 cars in S.O.K. The center of Medan—the esplanade—was about the only thing I recognized, as everything else had changed dramatically. The city now has many more inhabitants than it did twenty years ago when I lived there; it currently has around 50,000 residents.

I had heard that the two major hotels, De Boer and the Grand Hotel Medan, were equally good, and I chose to stay at the older but still excellent Grand Hotel Medan, which was formerly known simply as the Medan Hotel. The buildings had been greatly expanded and modernized; the equally old Oranje Hotel now serves as its annex. I was very pleased with my room on the cool, shaded side of the first floor, offering a splendid view of the esplanade. From here, I could observe the tremendous increase in traffic. I found it interesting to watch the comings and goings of locals at a kiosk and kedai (shop) from my front gallery, where I also enjoyed excellent concerts held several times a week on the large terrace in front of the hotel. I particularly noticed the great difference between the past (tempo doeloe) and the present (sekarang). Now, not only many administrators but also assistants are married, most own cars, and can easily come to Medan, making the hotel almost as lively in the evenings as the Grand Hotel Central and the House of Lords in The Hague. In many ways, the ladies have contributed to raising the social life on S.O.K. to a higher level; there are no more hari besar (festival) excesses or Wild West scenes on the 1st and 16th of each month. Many fine buildings have been added to the streets, extra sidewalks outside the kaki-lima (five-foot ways), and a traffic officer ensure safe circulation in the busiest streets.

The villa quarter in the Polonia district had expanded so much that I no longer knew my way around. In the mornings and evenings, especially under the bright moonlight, I often cycled around in the cool air. The beautiful houses amidst large lawns, tropical plants, and trees looked splendid. I sometimes envied the people who sat on their electrically lit front galleries in light pajamas or kimonos, occasionally engrossed in reading under colorful lampshades. I often wondered how many of them would feel upon returning to their homeland, where they would have to spend most of their days in confined spaces and closed rooms. This would be especially true if they ended up in a small town that offered half as much as Medan with its lively White Society, accessible to both ladies and gentlemen, where lectures, concerts, and theater performances take place—not to mention the many reading clubs, libraries, and good educational institutions (including a five-year H.B.S. course) and schools for the children of the over a thousand Europeans in S.O.K.

However, I found the Chinese quarter no less interesting to visit during my evening strolls. Considering that Medan, which has been the capital of the Government of Sumatra’s East Coast (S.O.K.) since 1887, has a population of 1.5 million, 30% of whom are Javanese and 10% Chinese, it is understandable that a large portion of these imported laborers, after their work contracts ended, settled in a city like Medan with its many warongs (small shops), bangsawans (theaters), cinemas, tea houses, etc., creating a unique entertainment scene.

I found it amusing to watch the Javanese squatting by the warong and the Chinese sitting in family circles with their knees drawn up on benches around dining tables, which were simply placed in front of their homes on the street, eating bami or other delicacies with chopsticks.

At the head of this large colony of sons of the Celestial Empire is Major of the Chinese, Mr. Khoe Tjin Teh, a sympathetic man who has held this position for seven years. He enjoys the trust of our government, his fellow countrymen, and many Europeans. As an old acquaintance, I visited him in his beautiful home, built in Chinese style, where I had the honor of meeting his family. The major, along with his son, who works at the American consulate, paid me a return visit.

My cycling trips extended over the well-asphalted roads of Medan to the former kampongs of Poeloe Braien, Petissa, Soengei Krah, etc., which now form the suburbs where very neat houses for Europeans, built by the municipality and rented cheaply, can also be found.

I was surprised to hear so many locals and Chinese speaking Dutch, something only a few could do twenty years ago. They learn our language at Dutch-Malay and Dutch-Chinese schools. The Ris and Huttenbach funds support students who need financial assistance. The increased traffic compared to twenty years ago was most noticeable at a closed railway crossing, where, as in European cities, a crowd of people and vehicles quickly formed, creating an endless line once the road was clear. A legion of buses circulates through the streets and markets in the mornings, with passengers looking for various places, the names of which are called out loudly. One can now reach the Batak highlands in just a few hours for only 1 guilder; such a trip twenty years ago was still a kind of expedition that took days. No wonder so many Batak girls are now seen shopping in Medan.

Instead of slaves, as was the case sixty years ago, potatoes and vegetables worth a million guilders are now exported annually from the highlands. There are no more raids on plantations by Bataks as there were forty years ago, and they no longer gamble away their wives and children as they once did.

In the last 25 years, many have even converted to Christianity through missionary work, and I noticed many simple churches of various denominations, although the monumental mosque—a gift from the Deli Company—stands out favorably as a building.

I naturally visited the administration of this company, where I had worked for so many years and for which I had an introduction from the director, Mr. Herbert Cremer. The beautiful office building had been constructed by my successor, Mr. Colijn. I was invited to visit some of the upper plantations, “Belawan” and “Toentoengan,” with the inspector. When we reached the latter plantation, it was a tough march through the rugged terrain. The fields, which would produce the famous Deli wrapper leaf, for which such high prices are paid on the world market, were being prepared for planting. The best quality tobacco grows on the lands between the Wampoe River in the north and the Soengei Oeler in the south, covering an area of 275,000 hectares. These are divided among 14 companies with 80 plantations, where 100,000 coolies work. A few years ago, these plantations produced around 75 million guilders worth of tobacco. In the same year, the entire tobacco harvest of Java yielded only a quarter of that amount. Once the harvest is in, the local population plants corn and rice in the fields, which were previously virgin forests and yielded nothing before the Europeans arrived.

On the way back, we visited some coolie houses, so-called single-family homes for Javanese. Everything looked neat and tidy, but as an old Deli man and architect, I must say that the Javanese, who value sociability and security, would prefer to live with others in a large pondok as before. At the vocational school on Belawan Estate, where we took a look, I, as a craftsman, was most interested; my friendly guide, I believe, gave a great boost to the maintenance of this institution. One can hardly imagine more patient and diligent students than the young Javanese boys. I admired the various objects they had made. May they show gratitude for the education they received, and may the Deli Company benefit from the skilled craftsmen it has trained. We drove back via Padang Boelan. During the time of the chief administrator Tiele, the man who introduced the plucking method for tobacco leaves and other improvements, this plantation was the model estate of S.O.K. His beautiful home, amidst a once meticulously maintained park, now lay lonely and deserted.

I found it pleasant to walk around the Deli Company’s premises in Medan once again, as I had done in the past. The chief administrator’s residence, built by my predecessor over 30 years ago, remains one of the finest planter houses in S.O.K. What splendid receptions and soirées took place there on the 10th of each month, especially when the v. V. family held sway.

It pleased me to recognize so many houses I had built, including the pathological laboratory, which has now been greatly expanded. It was established during the time of Dr. Schüffner and Dr. Kühne, who are now professors at the universities of Amsterdam and Leiden, respectively. Thousands of bacteriological examinations are conducted annually in this laboratory, along with an even greater number of Wassermann reactions (around 10,000), and smallpox vaccine is produced for half a million people. Cholera, plague, smallpox, and other epidemics are now almost non-existent or very limited in S.O.K. Mortality has dropped to a quarter of what it was before. Renovations were underway during my visit at the Deli Company’s hospital with its many barracks for various diseases. There are about 50 such hospitals in the entire region, where 15,000 patients are treated by 60 doctors.

I now came to the office buildings of the Deli Planters’ Association (D.P.V.), where I received much information about the entirely new Deli for me. With the secretary of this association, I examined the beautiful building, while in the large meeting room, I paid particular attention to the portraits of former chief administrators Nienhuis, Cremer, Van den Honert, Kolff, Ingerman, Van Vollenhoven, and Stecher Van Tijen hanging on the wall, of whom only the last-named is still alive since the company’s founding 60 years ago.

We then went to the Dactyloscopic Bureau, established not only by the D.P.V. but also by the General Association of Rubber Planters on the East Coast of Sumatra (A.V.R.O.S.) for the identification of coolies. Very briefly, we also took a look at the Emigrant Asylum, familiar to me from before, where weak or disabled coolies are cared for and kept busy with some handicraft, for which they receive a small allowance to buy snacks. Through a pension fund, the tobacco companies also provide for workers who have completed 25 years of service, receiving ƒ7.50 per month, an amount roughly equivalent to half their monthly wage, allowing them to live comfortably; between 5,000 and 6,000 coolies already enjoy such support. Outside the Deli Company’s premises, I also found some houses I had built, including the town hall, originally intended as the Java Bank during the silver coinage period. There was also the hospital I designed for the Association of Nursing, now significantly expanded. I learned that there are plans for a new hospital.

The swimming pool in Medan, filled with clear spring water from the Ajer Bersih Company, which flows abundantly from the mountains, is always busy with swimmers and onlookers. For me, however, accustomed to sunbathing on the sunny snowfields near St. Moritz, the water temperature was a bit too high. Nevertheless, I found it pleasant to watch the diving and swimming guests, including some very charming water nymphs, with the pool director, Mr. K. B., and other old and new acquaintances I met there.

Mr. v. B. kindly provided me with a selected collection of photos of S.O.K., including many of the swimming pool.

With all these distractions, my days in Medan flew by. I decided to undertake an excursion to the Batak and Gajo lands, about which I will write in a future letter.