Stories from Deli

Foreigners sometimes claim that the Dutchman feels attracted to low marshy coasts when he is looking for places to settle in distant regions, while the Englishman prefers high and dry coasts with inlets that form good harbours. This is said especially by those who have seen the English flag flying on Gibraltar, Malta, Aden, Colombo, Singapore and Hong Kong on a journey to the Far East and have seen the Dutch coasts merge into water, along the Strait of Malacca and into the Java Sea; who have visited Deli or Palembang, Batavia, Semarang and Surabaya; who make comparisons between South Borneo, which is hours far inland produces mainly rattan and rushes, while the northern part of that island, which the British chose for themselves, has proud bays with hills by the sea.

And just as the Netherlands, they say, reclaims wealth from those low alluvial plains, in the east and formerly also in the far west, England makes those safe harbours into warehouses for trade, by means of its gigantic merchant fleet. And each lives according to his nature: the son of the marshy ground, which, below sea level, floats on mud; and the offspring of the proud island, which rises from the ocean with its mountains and chalk cliffs with sharp edges and fjords.

Although there may be some objection to this comparison, it comes to mind when, still with the image in mind of the hills of Pinang or of the piers and docks of Singapore, you look up. the deck of the coastal boat that takes you to Deli, early in the morning for the first time sees the coast of Sumatra. True, you see the mountain range in the distance that forms the backbone of that island, but you see the tops of those mountains only hazy and light blue, and as soon as the tropical sun draws up the vapours from the alluvial plain in between, everything melts together, the mountains, the column of smoke above a crater, the clouds, the mist of coast and sea, and before you have reached the mud banks of the coast, the grand panorama has disappeared and only remains: the endless coastline with the ever-green covering of horns. The steamboat has to go in there, how — you do not understand; because behind every river mouth there is that same background of green at a short distance; the entrance is not noticeable, but the captain explores the somewhat higher trees of Serdang and now looks out for the beacons that point the way through the mud bank before Deli. He slowly scrapes over it, from time to time the propeller works up brown clouds of mud; sometimes they are stationary, then again the poles to which the fishermen fasten their nets show that there is progress; finally the boat slides with a sigh into deeper water.

The river mouth is now straight ahead, wide, inspiring confidence. On either side the beach trees stand in the water, on legs like gigantic spider heads. In between the mud settles, the dead leaves fall, the ripe seeds, in which the aerial roots attach themselves, which hang from the branches like lines of a fishing rod, which, when they have a bite, do not let go; and so the forest continues its conquest of the sea, slowly, but steadily, patiently and noticeably. And if it is true what the legend says, that the now high-lying Deli Toewa, 35 miles inland, was once a harbour; or if it is also true that the sea-going vessels, which now do not go further up the river than six miles, sailed within living memory to the kampong Mertoeboeng, five miles further on, then our grandchildren will one day be able to have their tobacco fields here.

But look, the steamer sails whistling around a bend in the river and the anchorage Belawan lies before us. In former days the boat sailed alongside a warehouse ship here, from which the goods were transported in Malay barges (sampans) to the enterprises; the traveller also took a seat in such a hollowed-out tree trunk and sailed slowly, between beach forests, in which monkeys frolicked and along creeks, in which alligators lazed in the sun like floating, rotten trunks, to Deli’s main town and residence Laboean and first set foot on land here.

A journey of one to two hours, depending on the tide. Opposite the above-mentioned anchorage, on the shore — if the swamp deserved that name — there were then a few miserable huts, housing a few Chinese woodcutters, who supplied the steamboats with firewood. That was the first service that this silent ground rendered to the prince of this century, the steam. And now the ground there vibrates continuously to deep layers under rumbling trains, now it is trapped under a thick layer of sand, which carries a network of rails and switches; now in its innermost piles, iron screws are drilling practice piles, stone foundations, supports of station buildings, sheds and jetties.

This is the starting point of the Deli railway, the Belawan station, which proves how the Dutch engineer is at home in the swamp and masters the mud. The boat is now moored at the government jetty, along which are the warehouses, in which the goods are inspected by the customs. The station is a little further on, a light wooden building, on a stone foundation, with an iron roof that protrudes far, cool and airy; the first thing you see is a constantly running stream of pure water, a blessing in this region, that wells up from an artesian well located on the yard, which the government had drilled there. At a depth of about 90 metres this good water was found there. Opposite the station are the staff’s houses; close to a railway shed; above and below along the bank are a number of private jetties with sheds of the various steamship companies: of the Ocean Steamship Company, the Norddeutsche Lloyd, of Chong Moh & Co. in Pinang, the Deli steamship company, the agents of the Dutch East Indies steamship company.

It is only a little over two years ago that the railway line from Belawan to Laboean was opened for traffic, and now steam sailing ships are crowding there, new warehouses are being built all the time, a kampong is under construction and seven arriving and as many departing trains are barely able to transport all the goods and passengers. This is because Belawan, formerly only the port of Deli, has become, through the railway, also – of Serdang and of Boven-Langkat.

The railway runs from the coast straight inland, past Laboean and Medan to Deli Toewa, 34.6 kilometres. From Medan it extends arms, running approximately parallel to the coast, left through the Kingdom of Serdang to the heart of the Perbaoengan landscape, 38 kilometres; right 21 kilometres through the Delian to Timbang Langkat and from there another 11 kilometres further, into Boven-Langkat, to the kampong Seleseh. We now take our seats in the train, which is ready for the Belawan station depicted on page 565, and in a few minutes we travel to the other side of the island, which has formed at the mouth of the main rivers of Deli, the Deli and the Soengal or Belawan, which flow together here. We now have before us the eastern river mouth, the Kwala Deli, which is shallow, at high tide only suitable for fishing boats; on the other hand, here it is 400 metres wide and has a bottom of washed-off silt.

Here the railway builder had to overcome the greatest difficulty that he encountered on his way and here the largest and most expensive work of art of the road was created, the bridge with dam over the Kwala, of which the illustration on page 564 gives an idea. The bridge consists of 20 spans, each 18.35 metres long and resting on either side on two cast iron screw pillars, which have a diameter of 0.60 metres and at the bottom a screw blade of 1.60 metres diameter. The abutments rest on the same screw piles and there are also two groups of four pillars in the length of the bridge, so that 46 pillars have been screwed in to a depth of 14 to 20 metres under Deli-pijl. This screwing in took a lot of time and effort. Sometimes the pile sank easily in the soft mud, then it encountered the resistance of layers of sand, then a piece of wood got stuck between the screw blades.

In the beginning, screwing over one pile took more than two months, later it was often finished within a week. As the workforce became more trained and after screwing with steam, the work went faster. When it was thought that it had progressed far enough, a test load of 60,000 kilos of rails was placed on the pile; if it did not sink, it was filled with concrete, and while the further pillars were screwed in, the bridges were mounted on the tested piles.

This last work went easily; the bridges are, like others of the railway, for example, the 31-metre span over the Pertjoet River, of the hinge system, which requires the least labour for the assembly. After the 380-metre bridge there are another 20 metres of dam, and the other side of the Kwala is reached. The work on the bridge took two and a half years; on average, more than 32 men worked on it per day; the structure costs approximately ƒ 275,000.

The road now goes through very marshy terrain to Laboean; shortly before that place, it crosses the Soengei Mati, a creek that, when construction began, in anticipation of the completion of the works below, was chosen as the provisional starting point of the railway. A temporary workshop was established here igd, here all materials, later also the freight goods were unloaded and loaded; and now the Soengei Mati (dead river) is dead again as before. After Laboean the railway comes on firmer ground; it follows the main road in a southerly direction, which was built along the Deli river at the time.

All three even run pleasantly next to each other as far as Deli Toewa. There is little to see in this flat country; the only engineering works of the road are insignificant bridges over watercourses; at four stops, situated at kampongs, there is a short stop; at the beginning one sees small rice fields, poorly maintained by the owners, then a few nutmeg gardens with half dead horns, then again fields with tobacco, but even more fields where tobacco used to grow or burn and now lalang or small forest and, as one approaches Medan, also recently established settlements of Javanese, small craftsmen or gardeners.

Near Medan is the branch line to Langkat, and after that it is noticeable that one reaches a busy railway centre, because everywhere there is life on the fairly extensive Medan yard. At the sheds of private individuals, at the front right, there is a lot of unloading and loading, rows of ox carts bring their loads back and forth; at the workshop on the left more and more new locomotives or wagons are assembled; empty and full wagons are driven back and forth, piles of firewood and ataps whizz past; and if, getting off the train, you watch the hustle and bustle of passengers and goods from the station platform (see p. 566) for some time, then you can imagine that on the route just covered the receipts per day and per kilometre in the good months amount to up to ƒ 95.

Of this line the Laboean-Medan section was opened to public traffic on 25 July 1886, after goods had already been transported there by work trains since 8 October 1885; the Laboen-Belawan section came into full operation on 16 February 1888. The line to Deli Toewa, approximately 11| kilometres, which was completed on 4 September 1887, is the least important; but on the Langkat line the traffic is very busy and has been increasing since its opening on 1 May 1887; if one follows this route, then “just below Medan the Deli River is crossed over a bridge with one opening of 31 and two openings of 18 metres each and then it continues in one straight line of 21 kilometres running due west to Timbang Langkat. In this direction the watercourses and rivers, which all flow north, are cut and so, apart from numerous small bridges, larger ones were also needed for the Soengal River, one of 31 and two of 10 meters.

The road runs entirely through the tobacco stop Timbang Langkat of the narrow gauge railway of the Deli Company enterprises; here and there it cuts through the fields, but since nineteen hundred and fifty of such an enterprise usually lies fallow, the view is mainly monotonous, boring, truly Delian, of scrubland and lalang. In the morning, however, the panorama of the mountains rises to the left, much more clearly visible than from the sea. At the stops and especially at the station Timbang Langkat, separate goods sheds have been built for the surrounding enterprises; it is usually full and busy there; food, building materials wait there in heaps for the ox carts that have to bring them to their destination.

Opposite Timbang Langkat on a peninsula formed by the confluence of the Bingey and Mintjirim rivers lies the kampong Bindjey, the main town of Boven-Langkat. The controller of that department lives here, and because of his vigorous actions this place is one of the neatest and most orderly on the east coast; roads, bridges, prison, society, houses and yards are in good condition, the armed police force has been thoroughly drilled. However, an unfortunate spot has been chosen for the camp of the company of soldiers stationed here, in the lowlands, in the high-water bed of the river.

The corners of seven large enterprises come together here; no wonder that this place, which had already had some significance in the past and where the troops under Captain Koops first encountered the enemy on 17 May 1872, has quickly flourished. From Timbang Langkat also runs a narrow-gauge railway, belonging to the Deli Company, through and along four of its enterprises to the kampong Stabat, which is situated lower on the Wampoe or main river of Langkat, into which the above-mentioned Bingey plunges. This line is about 25 kilometres long, has a track width of 0.70 metres and is operated by locomotives; the above picture shows a train, composed of a passenger carriage and wagons for tobacco, ataps and other goods. By means of this line and a steam launch, which sails between Stabat and Tandjong Poera (also called Klambier), the main town and residence of Langkat and situated in the lower division of that kingdom, a short communication has been obtained between the two divisions of Langkat, but the aim of the line tje is mainly to connect the above-mentioned enterprises with the Deli railway.

From Timbang Langkat the main line is currently being extended approximately 11 kilometres further west; this extension begins with a large bridge over the Bingey and ends at the kampong Seleseh; this work will be completed in a few months, which will then complete the entire construction. Eastwards from Medan, somewhat more towards the coast, the line runs to Serdang, which was completed in its entirety on 8 February 1890, is 38 kilometres long and runs almost entirely through tobacco enterprises. It intersects the Pertjoet River and then the Batang-Kwis, where it enters Serdang territory from Deli; there it continues in a more northerly direction to Kampong Besaar, which is to become the Medan of Serdang, after having crossed the Serdang River in three spans with a bridge of 72 metres. The track now heads south again along the well-populated bank of that river, which it leaves at the kampong Loeboe Pakam, to resume its eastern direction and, crossing the Soengei Oelar, to end at the main road that runs through the middle of the Perbaoengan region belonging to Serdang.

The Soengei Oelar is a difficult river with marshy banks; that is why there used to be little communication over land between the adjacent regions. But the engineers were not afraid of a little marsh at the end of the line and with a bridge of 60 metres spanning, flanked by smaller bridges in the river basin, the main river is spanned. The region intersected by this side line is the least rich. Tobacco does grow well in Serdang and Perbaoengan, but the quality is generally not as good as that of Deli and Langkat. The planters, however, do not lose heart and must try to overcome the difficulties through careful cultivation and frugal management. (Conclusion follows.)

Eigen haard; geïllustreerd volkstijdschrift, 1895, no. 41, 01-01-1895