Stories from Deli

X L 2.

Workers and Employers

The core of the workforce continues to be formed by the Chinese population. It remains, even now, a cherished hope to see the Chinese come to Deli of their own accord, and still the planters must themselves provide the means for recruiting new labourers. True, considerable improvement has been made in the manner of recruitment, and the number of Chinese who embark at Swatow (China) with the intention of entering into a labour contract in Deli has steadily increased, and the quality of these people has also greatly improved—but that is as far as it goes.

Only private individuals and small employers, such as kedeh-holders (shopkeepers) on the estates and in Medan, have their family members sent out to enter their service. And here once again the old saying applies: “you must rely on your family”—for family ties do not prevent the former from exploiting the latter in the most merciless fashion.

The Chinese worker, as stated, remains the main labour force on the estates, and there are usually about 500 to 600 of them in service on a single enterprise. He no longer performs as much work as in former times—oh no, he has become somewhat spoiled—and the sturdy field coolie from the old forest districts, who had to work hard to avoid falling behind the others and thus risk losing the field assigned to him for tobacco planting, has now been replaced by a type of labourer who shrinks from all heavy work, prefers to have the rough or less profitable tasks done by others, and reserves for himself the easiest and most lucrative work.

The phrase “minta orang Jawa” (“I ask for Javanese [helpers]”) is constantly on his lips, and since his earnings continue to increase, he finds himself in a much more favourable position than his European fellow worker. He can afford to be cheeky, insolent, to provoke quarrels, without the **sword of Damocles—dismissal—**immediately hanging over his head.

At the end of the year, when the Chinese rebind themselves for a new harvest year, many a record of sins is crossed out and a new page begun—in other words, the slate is wiped clean. One must have a very full disciplinary record indeed before re-engagement is refused, and even then it is not disastrous. As long as a false soerat idrin (pass) can be bought in Medan or Bindjai for a few dollars, and a place can be found as a vegetable grower, he will not suffer hunger, and “freedom and ease” is his motto.

Besides the respectable cultivation of vegetables and the keeping of pigs, this occupation offers some diversion as well: he may, together with his comrades, blackened and disguised, armed with a couple of old revolvers, pay an evening visit to some remote kedeh (little shop), returning home with a fine haul of a few hundred dollars and some opium. The risk involved is not even very great. He knows his people well and understands that a few old Lefaucheux revolvers, especially if they make a great deal of noise, are sufficient to keep a few hundred Chinese—however loudly they may roar—at a respectful distance, while the black-clad band calmly carries out the affair. In such cases, the kedeh crani (shop manager) is usually the first to suffer. Compassion is, after all, a word the Chinese does not really understand.

Despite his peculiar faults, the Chinese labourer will long continue to hold his ground as a field worker, since as a labourer he is difficult to equal and certainly not to surpass.

The Javanese, however, play no less important a role on the estates. Usually there are 250 to 300 of them, not counting another 100 to 150 female contract workers. Most are recruited unmarried, though some companies also bring over married men—a wise policy, since it generally yields a better calibre of worker. Almost half of the registered Javanese are married and form, with their wives and numerous children, a large colony.

They usually live in groups of 40 to 80 people at various points on the estate, so as not to be too far from their work, and they always present a picture of genuine Oriental carefreeness. Just come one evening before hari besar (payday) and take a look at the Javanese pondok. You must be careful not to trip over the children, for the lighting is poor: the little lamps at the small stalls and on the gaming mats must suffice for everything.

One would be amazed at what a Javanese can manage on 8 to 10 dollars a month (from which a portion is always deducted to repay his advance). Mother and children snack incessantly, while father plays a little game of poker on the mat. Strictly speaking this is not permitted, but although police supervision on the estates has greatly improved in recent years, it has not yet reached the point where a small evasion of the gaming tax is impossible—and a police guard cannot see everything.

Yet gambling remains a curse for the Javanese, worse even than the craving for opium among the Chinese—especially because almost every Javanese gambles, whereas opium use, though widespread among the Chinese, involves no more than about 20 per cent of their total number on the estates. But… the gaming and opium farms are indispensable factors for a budgetary surplus! And no official of the Netherlands Indies administration, however convinced he may be that such institutions are difficult to justify, has dared to interfere with them.

Despite his weaknesses, the Javanese—returning to him—is a willing and reliable worker. He rarely causes trouble, and with good treatment his employer can get much work out of him, especially if the latter takes the trouble to gain his confidence by learning more about his life and his kampong. The Javanese’s great fault is that he is content with very little; he therefore prefers to work as little as possible, even though by working harder he could earn more.

In earlier times one also found many Boyans (from the island of Bawean) on the estates, who were very useful as carpenters for rough construction work. In terms of intellect and morals they stand higher than the Javanese, but they find employment as coachmen or horse boys (syces) much more lucrative and pleasant, so that their numbers on the estates have gradually declined.

At present there remain only the Klings (Klingalese). Amid the many different races that make up the Deli labour world, they form a peculiar element. Good-natured but loud-mouthed fellows, easily satisfied, they live an extremely primitive existence. Only the women show some luxury in their clothing and jewellery; as for the furnishing of their dwellings, this has been reduced almost to nothing, and it is a hopeless task to improve it.

They are so accustomed to feeling most at ease in their filth—like pigs—that even the labour inspection has had to despair of bringing about any improvement. Everything founders on the individual’s refusal to clean. One practical planter came up with the idea of no longer whitewashing their dwellings—since that looked like a flag on a mud barge—but instead giving them a neutral cement colour. When he inspected the result after a few days, he announced that henceforth he would simply tar everything inside and out, since that contrasted less with the natural interior colouring of the surroundings.

The Kling’s greatest pleasure is the square bottle, and it would make the heart of a true Dutch drinking companion water to see how a Kling swallows gin—no Dutch stomach could manage it so.

Besides the groups mentioned above, all of whom have labour contracts with the planter, one also finds on the estates Banjarese and Bantammers, so-called free labourers who bind themselves only for a season to erect buildings such as houses and curing barns. They are generally a somewhat unreliable lot. For the same work, Bataks from the dusun also often present themselves—more good-natured, but frequently somewhat slow. With a little tact and much patience, however, much can still be achieved with these people.

And what do all these so-called contract workers earn? the reader may ask. When one sees the figures below, one may be inclined to say: “that is not much”—but taking into account the standard of living in Deli, one soon arrives at a different conclusion.

A Chinese field coolie easily earns 170 to 180 dollars per year (1 dollar = ƒ1.40), and at the end of the year he can quite easily retain 30 to 40 dollars as savings when settling his account. This is a very average figure—and I ask: how many workers in Holland ever see such a sum accumulated, let alone possess it as savings?

The Javanese, Klings, Boyans and other groups work less hard and earn less. Their average monthly wage on good estates may safely be set at a little over 8 dollars. Just recently the guilder has driven the dollar out of Deli. The Javasche Bank has established its branches there, and the dollar has become a forbidden currency. All wages are therefore now calculated in guilders.

A married worker needs 5 dollars to live on, 1 dollar for repayment of his advance, leaving 2 dollars for clothing and other expenses—and if he is at all willing to apply himself, he can without great effort raise his earnings by a few dollars more.

Truly, reader, the worker in Deli is not so badly off, and comparatively speaking is far better situated than his European colleague. He does not know poverty, and he can always find work. There are no unemployed here, no faces on which hunger is written. Worries are something he need not know. It may not be easy for an outsider to grasp, but anyone who has come to know Deli at close quarters and has had the opportunity to observe the life of workers on the estates more closely will find it difficult to deny.

NoteL: This is a propaganda article.

Eigen Haard  1909, no. 16, 17-04-1909