Four days after Mr. Mellema’s corpse was found he was buried at the European cemetery in Peneleh. We all attended. Most of those who attended were inhabitants of the business’s villages. Seven reporters also witnessed the event, along with Dr. Martinet, Jean Marais, and Telinga. The burial was organized by the Verbrugge Burial Company.
Dr. Martinet took the job of representing the Mellema family. During the burial ceremony he told of his great sympathy for the Mellema family, especially Nyai Ontosoroh and Annelies, all of whom had been put through such trials over the last five years. Only a person who was truly strong could bear them. And the person involved was a Native, too, who was aided only by her clever and adroit daughter. And those trials weren’t over yet, because the matter still had to come to court.
His pronouncements, expressed as they were as sympathy, were soon reproduced in the colonial press, both Malay and Dutch. Dr. Martinet became a target for journalists who demanded an explanation of his speech. He, who understood that such an explanation would be turned into a sensational serialized story, remained unrelentingly silent. So the Dutch-language press in their own way and style rejected Dr. Martinet’s sympathy, which was directed at one who was only a Native woman, and a concubine too, who perhaps was not even clear of any wrongdoing in the case. There have been many proven cases of nyais conspiring with outsiders to murder their masters. The motives: lust and wealth. In the nineteenth century alone, there could be listed at least five nyais who had gone to the gallows. Even the character Nyai Dasima, of the popular Malay novel, could have carried out the same crime, had not her master, Edward Williams, been such a wise person. But even her story ended with a killing. Only it wasn’t Edward Williams who was the victim—but Dasima herself. The paper closed its piece with the suggestion that Nyai Ontosoroh be investigated more thoroughly. Meanwhile a Betawi paper suggested, that this person Minke was a character who should be more thoroughly investigated.
Dr. Martinet and Maarten Nijman collected a great many newspapers from other towns and passed them on to us.
After reading all their comments and proposals, Mama stated:
“They can’t stand seeing Natives not being trodden under their feet. Natives must always be in the wrong, Europeans must be innocent, so therefore Natives must be wrong to start with. To be born a Native is to be in the wrong. We’re facing a more difficult situation now, Minke, my son. [That was the first time she called me ‘my son,’ and tears came to my eyes when I heard it.] Will you run from us, child?”
“No, Mama. We’ll face it together. We too have friends. And, I ask Mama, don’t think of this Minke here as a criminal.”
“They have all the means they need to make us scapegoats. But while none of us have been arrested—especially Darsam—it means the police haven’t been influenced.”
Another article, obviously written by Robert Suurhof, accused me of being an unashamed sponger, sucking up other people’s wealth and representing myself to the public as a “churchbird-without-sin”; but I was actually someone without a family name, without anything. My only capital, it said, was my crocodile daring.
The paper wasn’t, of course, the S.N. v/d D., but a daily famous for its addiction to scandals and sensations in all fields, with staff who were sensation maniacs. Or as Dr. Martinet put it: sick people, like Titus in Roman times. Dr. Martinet visited us to express his solidarity.
“Don’t drown.”
No matter how one humored oneself, no matter what salve one applied to one’s heart, Suurhof’s article struck hard. The pain was felt even in the hairs on my neck.
“I’ll take him to court, Mama.”
“No!” forbade Nyai. “You’ll never win.”
“If Mama refuses to confirm what he says, I’ll have already won.”
“Mama is on your side,” said the woman. “But you’ll never win if you take it before the law. You’d be facing a European, Nyo. The prosecutor and judge will do you in and you don’t have any court experience. Not all attorneys and barristers can be trusted, especially where the case is one of a Native suing a European. Answer that article with another of your own. Challenge him with words.”
This person who says he knows me is perhaps my friend; a good friend or a bad friend, I answered in my article. Why doesn’t he show his face in the open, why does he prefer to hide behind a mask when he launches his filth? Come out in the open, sir, show your own face. Why are you ashamed of your own face, your own name, and your own deeds?
My article, which was first published by Maarten Nijman, was then circulated more widely through an auction paper that had been able to turn itself into a general daily as a result of the Herman Mellema affair, though most of the paper was still advertisements. In all of Surabaya there were six auction companies. Each had their own auction paper. Only one was able to turn itself into a proper daily newspaper.
How much have I stolen from the late Herman Mellema? Tell us, sir. Give it all in detail if you can. You can ask assistance from Herman Mellema’s family. Hire an accountant if you like, I wrote.
Truly, I would never have guessed. The attacks on me came roaring in. Mama was right—and I hadn’t even brought it to court. The controversy didn’t focus on the truth or otherwise of the accusation that I was a sponger sucking on Herman Mellema’s wealth. The burning issue shifted to color difference: European versus Native. Papers in the other towns started meddling in the affair. So for one month I had not a single opportunity to look at schoolwork. My daily business was to respond to people’s ignorance. Maarten Nijman gave me every report attacking us, and I had to reply.
Miss Magda Peters also came to express her sympathy:
“Yes, this is how it is in all colonies: Asia, Africa, America, Australia. Everything that is not European, and especially if it is not colonial, is trodden upon, laughed at, humiliated, for no other reason than to prove the supremacy of Europe and of colonial might in every matter—not excluding ignorance. Don’t forget, Minke, those who first came to the Indies were mere adventurers, people Europe itself had exiled. Here they try to be even more European. Trash.”
We listened to her expressions of sympathy, and to the oaths, in silence.
We tried to ensure that Annelies was kept out of the affair. It seemed our efforts were fairly successful. In this way an alliance developed between Nyai and me as we confronted the world outside the house.
“If you agree to fight them at my side, Minke, child, Nyo, you fight them to the end. If they later find themselves cornered, be careful—they will gang up on you. It’s happened so often before. Do you dare?”
“We will never rest, Mama, in dealing with this problem. I think Minke is not a criminal. I reckon, Mama, he won’t run.”
“Good. In that case you don’t need to go back to school yet. This fight is more important than school. At school they will gang up on you and will hurt both your body and your feelings. By facing this situation now you will learn to defend yourself and to go on the attack in public, before all races. You will graduate with the diploma named fame.”
Unexpectedly, there appeared in a European-owned Malay paper an article defending me, written by someone calling himself Kommer.
If Minke, alias Max Tollenaar, has actually and quite plainly broken the law, he wrote, why have none of his accusers taken him to court? Do they consider that the law in the Netherlands Indies doesn’t fulfill their needs? Or are they deliberately insulting the law and exposing the impotence of our honorable law officers? Or do these not-so-honorable gentlemen want to create a new law of their own?
As a consequence of this article several legal people began arguing among themselves, and attention was shifted away from me. And that diploma called fame, promised by Nyai, did not come my way.
* * *
Nyai Ontosoroh seemed nonplussed in facing all the possibilities. In all this extraordinary business Annelies became even more absorbed in her work. Relations with the outside world were surrendered to Mama and me. And all of a sud
den I was acknowledged as the only man in the house, though not formally, of course.
The court case couldn’t be put off any longer. Robert Mellema and Fatso were still not to be found. So the court was to try Babah Ah Tjong as the accused. A white court, a European court! Not because Ah Tjong had forum privilegiatum, the right to be tried under European law, but because the victim was European, though the accused was not, something I found out later. He was accused of the premeditated murder of Herman Mellema, murder carried out both gradually and in a final act.
Perhaps it was the biggest court case ever in Surabaya. Aroused by the reports and the arguments in the newspapers, the inhabitants of Surbaya, of all races, flocked to witness it. It was also reported that many people came from other towns. Nyai’s brother from Tulangan also came.
People said it was the most expensive court trial ever. No less than four sworn interpreters were used: for Javanese and Madurese, Chinese, Japanese, and Malay. All the interpreters were Pure-Blood Europeans.
Mr. Telinga, Jean Marais, and Kommer also came. Kommer said that for as long as he’d been a journalist this much-feared building had never experienced such a cheerful group of visitors.
An owner of an auction office and paper that I knew also attended.
The Surabaya H.B.S. closed for the first time in its history: The teachers and students shifted their class to the court-building compound.
Dr. Martinet was called as an expert medical witness.
Babah Ah Tjong hired a defense lawyer from Hong Kong who spoke in English. So they had to get another interpreter.
People said that this was also the first time a Chinese had been tried by a European court.
The trial passed quickly at first. Dutch was used. It was difficult to get from Ah Tjong a confession of the motive behind the murder, even though he did confess to the poisoning using a Chinese prescription unknown to the medical world. He wouldn’t tell the formula. All he would admit was that it made the victim lose his sense of balance, as was proved at trials of ten murderers in Kalisosok jail.
At first Ah Tjong denied that the mixture could do any damage. Its only use was as an aromatic for palm wine, he said. A Chinese physician was called as a witness. He repudiated Ah Tjong’s explanation and the accused was pressed on this, the weakest aspect of his defense, which brought him to an eventual confession of murder.
What was his motive?
At first, Ah Tjong said he was fed up with his customer who, after five years, still didn’t want to leave. But he couldn’t answer the question: Why was he fed up when all this time his customer returned him a profit? And why then was Robert Mellema taken in?
The questioning of Nyai Ontosoroh, who had become the star of the trial, made her go scarlet. She was not allowed to use Dutch and ordered to use Javanese. She refused, and used Malay. She explained that the late Herman Mellema’s bill at Ah Tjong’s was forty-five guilders a month. It was paid at her office to a messenger. Lately, she had received bills for Robert Mellema at sixty guilders a month.
Why did Robert have to pay so much?
Because, answered Ah Tjong, Sinyo Robert only wanted Maiko, who was the most expensive girl; and he wanted her just for himself.
Was it true that Maiko only served Robert Mellema? Maiko said no. She served whomever Ah Tjong told her to serve, including Ah Tjong himself. Especially as Robert Mellema had recently begun to lose his strength and his sexual desires.
To satisfy those interested, Maiko was questioned as to whether she had ever contracted a venereal disease while she had been a prostitute. The expert witness, Dr. Martinet, explained that it was true that Maiko had contracted syphilis.
Did not Maiko regret having spread such a sickness in another people’s country? She answered that it was not her wish that she become ill. She did not make the sickness. Her task as a prostitute was only to serve the customers.
Still to satisfy those especially interested, another question was asked: Who gave the disease to you? With a clear and beautiful voice Maiko answered that she didn’t know. If customers were infected because of me, it was not my fault.
Had Babah Ah Tjong ever expressed his dissatisfaction to Nyai? Nyai answered that she had never even met her neighbor. She had only met his bills. Their first meeting was in this courtroom.
Finally, the court ran into many issues that could not be cleared up and which therefore annoyed many people. The absence of Robert Mellema and Fatso was an obstacle that could not be overcome. But of all the questioning I thought out of order, the worst was that about my relationship with Annelies. It made people laugh and giggle; and both the prosecutor and judge, each in their turn, could not let pass the opportunity to ridicule our relationship in public. My relationship with Nyai was also subjected to disgusting and uncivilized insinuating questions. I was amazed that Europeans, my teachers, my civilizers, could behave in such a way.
It was fortunate that the questioning did not become too involved, though I knew that the intention was to prove whether or not sexual relations had occurred between us, in order to use any such confession as the link to connect us with the murder.
Ah Tjong made things go lighter for us with his statement that Nyai and I, as well as Annelies, had no connection with the murder. And that statement freed us from further involvement in the case.
The trial went on for two weeks. The motive for the murder still eluded the prosecutor. The judge decided to postpone his judgment. The prosecutor was ordered to find Robert Mellema, the latter to be detained and questioned. The court’s decision seemed to disappoint many people. Many people, so it appeared, expected the judge to bring down a death sentence because an Oriental had carried out the premeditated murder of a European. The judge ordered that Ah Tjong be kept in temporary custody. His helpers received sentences between three and five years each. Maiko was ordered to be treated at a hospital under the care of a doctor, to be paid for by Ah Tjong, as he was her employer. Meanwhile everyone waited impatiently for Fatso and Robert to be caught.
17
The trial came to a temporary halt. I went back to school.
Everyone had collected in the schoolyard by the time my buggy stopped in front of the main gate. They put off their other activities just to take a look and stare at me as I passed.
Even before I had gone into class I was given a message from the school director. And so I reported to him. These were his words:
“Minke, both as an individual and as representative of all the school’s teachers and students I would like to congratulate you on your victory in court. I would also like personally to congratulate you on your tenacity in defending yourself from public attack. I, and all of us, are proud to have a pupil as talented as you. The court trial was followed by all the students and teachers. You no doubt already know that. You have been the focus of much attention, because you are a pupil at this school. Now I’d like you to listen to the decision of the Teachers’ Council that has come out of its meetings and its rather difficult discussions about you. Based on your answers in court—I mean those concerning your relations with Annelies Mellema—the Teachers’ Council has decided that you are too adult to mix with your fellow students, and in particular that you are a danger to the female students. The Teachers’ Council meeting does not dare accept the responsibility of answering for the safety of the female pupils to their parents and guardians. Do you understand?”
“More than understand.”
“A great pity. A few more months and you would have graduated.”
“So be it. It’s all up to you, Director, to decide.”
He put out his hand to me and said:
“Failure in school, Minke, but success in love and life.”
By the time I left the office, class had begun. I could see all the eyes directed at me through the window. I waved and they waved back. It was that response that suddenly made my heart sad at having to be parted from all these people who, it seemed, still did care about this Native, Minke.
&
nbsp; The buggy and its driver were waiting outside. I climbed aboard quickly. As the buggy started to move, I ordered the driver to stop. Someone was running after me, calling out. Miss Magda Peters. And I climbed down.
“A pity, Minke. I was unable to defend you successfully. I fought as hard as I could. It was impudent of the court to ask you about such private matters in public.”
“Thank you, miss.”
She went. I climbed aboard and, at my request, the buggy set off slowly. Yes, the court was indeed impudent. The prosecutor deliberately wanted to turn our lives inside out in public—a desire that was a kind of extension of Robert Suurhof’s feelings.
As if repeating Dr. Martinet’s question, the prosecutor asked in Dutch, which was then translated into Javanese: “In which room do you sleep, Minke?” And indeed I refused to answer that malicious question. But with the speed of lightning the question was directed at Annelies and spoken directly in Dutch: “With whom does Miss Annelies Mellema sleep?” And Annelies had no power to refuse to answer. So humiliating giggling and laughter was heard in the courtroom, quite loudly too.
The next question was flung at Nyai Ontosoroh: Nyai Ontosoroh, alias Sanikem, concubine of the late Mr. Herman Mellema: “How could Nyai allow such improper relations between Nyai’s guest and Nyai’s child?”
The surging laughter became more exuberant, more insulting, more demonstrative. The prosecutor, and the judge too, both smiled, pleased that they had been able to engage in the torment of the spirit of this Native woman, a woman envied by so many Pure and Indo of her own sex.