Stories from Deli

VELERLEI. From tempo doeloe.” (New series) I. The Millions For Deli (SP 15-04-1916)

“It couldn’t go on like this! There had to be an end to this rampant trading, this usury, this speculation with Straits currencies, Spanish mats, Mexican and Hong Kong dollars, British trade dollars, all within a Dutch colony. It was against Dutch prestige and, moreover, particularly confusing that most residents of the East Coast of Sumatra knew only the value of foreign and not that of Dutch currency.

The cause naturally lay in the raw trade contact with the Straits, where a uniform and equivalent currency was of great convenience, but in any case: the government could no longer tolerate such foolishness. It intervened and sent Mr. Vissering, then president of the Java Bank, here to design a new currency system for the East Coast. That happened about 8 years ago. The ban on foreign money was declared, in a building of the Deli Company, where the post office now stands, an agency of the Java Bank was established, and then… there were only hopes for the millions in gold pieces, rijksdaalders, guilders, half guilders, quarter guilders, dimes, and cents, which mostly came from the Netherlands, with a small percentage also from Java. Each time a ship moored in the harbor of Belawan, the police from Labuan took care of the transport by rail to Medan, and the commander of the armed police in Medan would sing: Have you heard Of the silver fleet, The silver fleet from Holland? It carries no Spanish mats on board, But coins from Orange!

and proceeded with his men to the station to receive the heavy chests and transport them by grobak to the… prison, since the Java Bank had no vaults. In some large rooms of the lockup, the sturdy policemen stacked the precious cargos and looked down on such a collection—5 million—you could lounge for your entire life—if it was safely placed in a corner. The commander saw those covetous eyes of the boys who had to work hard to scrape together a few guilders a week, but he himself felt nothing for the joys of the earth, and he knew that the loss of even a single chest would bind him in debt to the government for life, even until death in old age.

Thus, the watch had to be strengthened, with 20 to 30 policemen guarding it. You could never be sure! Man’s longing naturally goes towards gold, and except for the Gauls, there is hardly a nation on the whole earth whose inner walls are not adorned with the motto, ‘Gold is everything.’

Indeed, there are people who, standing by a stock exchange with a hundred thousand in hand, will not reach out, but… in the prison, gradually more than 20 million had been stored, a capital that even Carnegie would respect. It had to be thoroughly guarded! The commander paced restlessly. Every time the night watchman dozed off, he saw a wall of millions of guilders before him. He could hardly breathe, but his hand was motionless. If he looked back to see if the night sky was still blue, he saw a wall of solid gold. To the right and left, there was no way out, for there the dimes had built a fortress. Three, five, seven times the police chief would leap out of bed and go to the window to see if everything was still in order. Always keeping the watch on its qui vive, no rogue present, then the commander would creep under the mosquito net, where hands reached out to him, wanting to strangle him and then smash the watch and its guards to pieces…

Then the commander would roll to the other side, but there he would see the watch itself mutinying. They imagined the commander of the garrison picket, who was also charged with the coin, kicking the doors to pieces and placing crowbars under the chest lids.

With a shock, the police chief would wake up and rush outside, where the night cold stiffened his limbs and the terrible hallucination fled in cold little shivers… Kieker.

II. The Millions Before Deli (SP 17-04-1916)

It just couldn’t go on like this! Once all those crates filled with currency that everyone wanted a piece of were stacked in the prison, and the police commander hoped that this nagging obsession would now trouble someone else so he could finally sleep peacefully, he received orders to load several million onto a grobak, take them to the stadium, and from there transport them to various main towns where several administrative officials and employees of the Java Bank had already been deployed to start the currency exchange. The Highlands were first in line. The Bataks had to learn to jingle our gold, silver, and copper coins as easily as they had jingled all those foreign coins. The train carried the precious cargo to Arnhemsweg, where those cheerful crates had to be transported by grobak to Bandar-Baru on a road that was under construction.

And there the millions for Deli rumbled forth between the carbines of the armed police, while the commander continuously checked left and right to see if no black gang would spring from the forests. They traveled for three days. Above their heads, the fireball sizzled, and at their feet, the bulky stones lay scattered in wild disarray across the road. To give the oxen some rest, they halted at night. Then the commander spread his mat over the crates and rested his head on the hard wood, beneath which the bringers of much sorrow and joy were packed together. Because one had to stay vigilant! You couldn’t sleep peacefully in the holy knowledge that no mortal would try to sneak a crate off the road. You had to firmly believe in a strong attack, and if it didn’t come, well… then the stars that had shone above your cradle had definitely been of the lucky kind. In Bandar-Baru, the grobaks also had to stay behind. Because further to the Highlands, the journey would go along deep ravines and over very narrow paths, which were unsuitable for the oxen. So, human strength was needed.

But a Batak can be found for anything: for a hearty feast, for a fun dance, for a tête-à-tête in the moonlight, for fancy clothes at Easter if necessary… but when you ask him to carry a hefty load on his shoulders, he reacts like a bull seeing a red rag.

But… help was needed. They couldn’t just sit in Bandar-Baru with those gold pieces and guilders and dimes… and therefore the administration had sent down about 300 Bataks to haul the nice surprises up.

There they came, 26 in total, with hanging lips, shaking knees, and sluggish feet. They felt nothing for lugging the coins, which would only bring them trouble, to their homeland, but there was no choice but to obey, because that little commander with his short, snappy commands… wow, you could even go fishing with him, so aggressively he’d whip the line behind him, but… starting trouble… —Listen, boys, said the oldest and wisest — let’s be sensible and just pick up the crates.

But it wasn’t that easy. There had to be negotiating, and the Bataks, though unimaginable gourmets, absolutely had no clue about that. None of them had brought a stick along. So they were all driven into the forest to gather materials for the carrying poles and wild vines for the pikoel straps. By 5 AM they were all lined up before the dreaded commander, and only at 7 AM did the command come: “Forward march.”

And there dangled the coins, divided into 2-man and 4-man loads, swinging between the Bataks, who sweated profusely and kept wondering why the government had to make such a fuss and not simply keep the old coins, which their forefathers had traded with, in circulation. Then they looked at each other, shook their sturdy heads, and dumped the crates right onto the road because they couldn’t work that intensely… with the blazing sun overhead and that small, feisty commander at their backs… Kieker.

III. The Millions Before Deli (SP 18-04-1916)

“The coin train was about 1 km long. At the front went a sergeant and a hornblower, and at the end walked the commander with another hornblower beside him, who could convey the commands in shrill tones. The overseers were distributed throughout the train.

The journey from Bandar-Baru to Tungku— a distance of about 15 km—was not exactly a walk in Kalverstraat, and even Julianastraat, which currently resembles a trench, is a golf course compared to the path then under construction. It was not uncommon for large boulders to suddenly block the way, requiring the overseers and Bataks to climb over them, and the commander occasionally shouted out, fearing a crate containing a thousand guilders might fall to the right, into the deep ravine.

It also happened that, once such a boulder was overcome and the commander was comfortably rubbing his hands together, pleased with the preservation of the entire precious cargo, some Bataks, who had already glanced backwards a couple of times to see if the strict man in the back was wielding his revolver, pressed the weapon against their waist, and if not clasping a steel weapon, they’d throw the cargo to the ground, themselves diving into the ravine to regain their freedom.

Then there was a crate with perhaps 10,000 guilders in gold teetering on the edge of a ravine, and the foot of an approaching, half-dazed Batak kicked it… the commander saw the gold coins jingle down into the depths and envisioned 50 guilders being deducted from his salary each month. — Hornblower, sound the halt signal. The colleague at the head of the troop took over the signal, and the troop stopped. But now? The crate, moved from the edge of the threatening ravine to the middle of the narrow path, taunted in the sunlight. Deep down, the commander saw the escaped coolies running like hares: tiny specks amid the wide, overgrown cellar space. Shoot them down? Oh, that wouldn’t get that infuriating crate any further! Load it on the shoulders of one of the coolies in the train? But these guys couldn’t handle any more! Then just rest and wait until a couple of sturdy men passed by.

If a Batak happened to walk up or down the road, he would suddenly face the threatening visage of the commander, who briefly but resolutely ordered him to wait until another countryman came along, after which they could “bring” that lonely crate up together. — But I don’t have time for that, sir. I have to go home to milk the cows and my goat is bleating in fear. — All well and good, my boy, but this crate is worth more than all your cows and goats put together. And if one of those dear animals were to die — may the Lord grant them peace! — from sheer heartache due to your absence, the government will compensate you handsomely. Now sit down and keep your homestead closed. Naturally, a storm cloud passed over the clear, unflustered Batak face, and sometimes one, longing too fiercely for his little home, shifted his foot to the right, waiting for a chance to shoot into the ravine, but heavens: those dark eyes of the commander literally saw everything, and when that police voice asked why that leg had shifted to the right, oh, they had an excuse ready: a toe that tickled, or a grass blade that was pricking painfully.

And in his not so harsh heart, the commander actually quite agreed with these guys. Who enjoys being burdened with coolie work while walking home? But what else could he do but coerce? Wasn’t he standing there as both Mercury and Mammon in person? Could he allow those beautiful coins from the Mint to disappear into the forgotten depths of the Highlands and soon read in the papers: “The police commander is an utter failure”?

He had to act, take charge, deliver the money entrusted to him in perfect uncorrupted condition and therefore: — If you don’t want to, brave Bataks, I’ll shoot you down like a dog.

And even to this day, the police commander asserts that all those emotions and endured anxieties had shaken his nerves so violently, that had there been a complete refusal, the end would surely have followed! But the passing Bataks were wiser. They glanced somberly at the barrel of the revolver, then at the landscape around and then at the accommodating ram above… and the comparison made them cling so firmly to life that they did what the high uncle commanded. But with all those struggles of Bataks disappearing and reappearing, the ordeal was not yet over. For fatigue often paralyzed their legs, and the path, with only half-chiseled rocks on the left and gaping holes on the right, got progressively worse. Then came another short rest, during which the commander did nothing but pace back and forth, fearing the tilting of a crate or its slipping off the back of a coolie, who wanted to pay his own way for this work.

Finally, around 5 pm, they reached Tungku, but the lieutenant-civil governor, to whom the funds had to be handed over in exchange for the foreign coins, was absent, searching for coolies to take over the transport. For this administrative man, who had military personnel under him, was responsible for further distribution.

The commander was still not free from his troubles and concerns, and with a sigh, heard as far away as Medan, he had the crates stacked in a square formation and guarded by a sentry cordon. During the day, the police chief slept a few hours in a shed, but at night, when the utmost vigilance was required, he sat by a lit fire on the crates, enjoying a plate of snert from a tin, which might have been fresh in the days of Jan Pieterszoon Coen.

Finally, after two days, the civil governor arrived and took over the obsession with a face of 12 days mourning. But the commander, despite his stomach filled only with snert, jumped up with joy, and on the way back, everything was singing and merriment: in him, around him, and above him.

And when he, having arrived in Medan, hung his uniform on the coat rack and slipped his carefree body into a cooling pajama… came the urgent order to take command of a second money expedition…! Kieker.”

IV. The Millions Before Deli (SP 19-04-1916)

“The currency regulation had, with one exception, proceeded smoothly everywhere. The government, which, based on a prior assessment, thought it needed an amount of 20 million guilders, discovered once the enormous treasure was amassed that there was an excess of… about 10 million guilders. This quickly sparked rumors that the treasure wasn’t just lying around, but there was a reason for this. The issue was this: all banks had already sent the available foreign coins for exchange, and when the government requested to exchange all this foreign money for Dutch currency of equivalent value, they were shown the vaults filled with gold and silver with the lovely emblem on them! The regulation went smoothly except in Bagan Si Api-Api. The inhabitants of this fishing village, who typically made their living off the sea, refused to exchange their British money at the local Java Bank branch.

And because the Dutch emblem is still a proud lion, baring its teeth and flexing its claws, it was decided to send some armed policemen from Medan to Bagan Si Api-Api, if necessary, to forcibly remind the longtails of their duties. On a sunny morning with a crisp air, Resident Ballot, the inspector of finances, the agent of the Java Bank, and 20 armed policemen, led by the commander, departed by government steamer ‘Sperwer’ to the bustling village, where 300 to 400 Chinese fishermen were stubbornly resisting. As soon as Bagan Si Api-Api was reached and the authorities gazed with interest at the bustling activity, the policemen flirted with the many beautiful Chinese girls wandering about. In conjunction with the stationed police force, a show of military force was displayed. With drums beating and horns sounding, the police force of over 40 men marched through the streets. The commander led the way, chest out, head up, hand on the hilt of his saber, and a determined look in his fiery eyes: If you don’t do what the Company wants, I will force you! And that’s eventually what happened. Because when notified to come exchange their English money at the bank branch, not one showed up. The assistant resident of Benjkalb, under whose jurisdiction the rebellious village fell, was furious. What were these fools thinking? Trying to make their own rules here? — Commander, you go fetch them with their coins and bring them here. And then the fun began. The commander and his men entered the homes. The safes and chests had to be opened and the foreign money taken out. If a longtail hesitated or claimed, ‘I have no coins,’ a stern look from the commander was enough to refresh his memory. But even after the first householders were visited and forced to bring their money to the Bank, others still stayed at home, sitting on the foreign money that had become dear to them, and one by one they had to be forced to exchange their possessions for Willem ducats. For fourteen days the armed police were busy with this house search. Eventually, the resident had enough and returned to Medan when the Chinese showed no more serious resistance. But the other authorities stayed and later had no regrets. Because once the Java Bank had collected all the foreign money and the hundreds of Chinese could only jingle with genuine gold ducats and rijksdaalders and guilders, the Chinese lieutenant was so pleased that he offered the authorities and the 3 or 4 European residents of Bagan Si Api Api a magnificent feast.

Whether that ended pleasantly, the commander can still not quite remember. If you ask him about it, in burning curiosity, he’ll stroke his forehead, gaze deeply into the distance and then say: I see a whirl of red and gold and yellow and light. The red sparkles in countless glasses, the gold glitters down on me, the yellow colors everything from the table and the light twinkles in the eyes of swaying nymphs…. Let me now be alone so that I can relive that happiness once more! Kieker.”