A VILLAGE HOME IN JAVA.
To Usoof and his mother the great Wodena was kindness itself, and
conversed with them in Javanese with much affability. X. wishing to see
a real country village, and obtain speech with its people, away from the
all-subduing eye of the local authority, promised to go that afternoon
and visit the good lady in her ancestral home, and a few hours later he
took the train for the next station, Tambak. No European had ever done
such a thing before apparently, and there was quite a fuss at the
station to find a first or even a second-class ticket. And during the
search the railway officials displayed the most naive curiosity, and
questioned the traveller without restraint. Arrived at Tambak X.
descended, and immediately the station-master hurried forward and
politely assured him that he had made a mistake, since Gombong, the
large town, was the next station but one. He obviously could not believe
it possible that any European should get out at Tambak on purpose, and
regarded the polite insistence of X. that he knew where he wanted to go
as evidence of some sort of want of sanity, to be passed over as
harmless. Gesticulating and ejaculating, the worthy gentleman collected
quite a little crowd of gazers as the white man, followed by Usoof,
sauntered out of the station. Once out of sight, the station-master
would have been intensely gratified to see X., who did not really in the
least know where he was going, turn round and ask his follower the way.
So they branched off to the left and wended their route along the banks
of a noisy river, beneath the shade of huge trees which formed an avenue
by the side of the water. On their right lay the endless padi fields of
early green and ripening gold, all equally shimmering in the sun. This
combination of ripe padi, side by side with newly sown, forms a striking
feature of Javanese agriculture. While gazing upon this warm picture,
and congratulating himself that someone had had the forethought to plant
this pleasant row of trees, the voice of Usoof from the rear announced
that they must now turn to the right. To turn to the right naturally
meant to go across that sunlit plain. The hand of X. involuntarily went
up to his stiff stand-up collar, and though he could not see the face of
his attendant, he was aware through his back that he smiled. So climbing
a rustic stile they branched off to the right and walked across the
padi, where the lurid light was zigzagging above the corn. Presently the
red roofs of a village were in sight, and once more the voice of Usoof
spoke to introduce his birthplace. This was interesting, as was the
additional information that the little river they had now to cross was
the boundary of his ancestral land. The house they had come all this way
to see was deep in the shadow of countless fruit trees, over which
towered palms of considerable age. The green turf so scrupulously neat,
and the little group of buildings set round the central house, all
combined to make a picturesque scene.
In the front of these cottages, on the green turf, was the reception
house--a square building, surrounded by benches with a table in the
middle.
Here the stranger was escorted by a crowd of Javanese, cousins and
sisters and brothers and aunts, without number--for it seemed less of a
family than a tribe which had come together to do him honour. Then the
guest was seated in the place of state, and fruit of many kinds in large
brass dishes was set before him. It was truly a pleasant spot, and there
was additional satisfaction in the thought that with so little to guide
them they had been able to light upon it without lengthy search. Then
ensued a conversation, during which the visitor learnt and imparted many
things. Amongst the former he heard that once before, when the railway
was being made, a white man had been seen in the neighbourhood, but the
present occasion was the first, when the village had beheld one close.
And this stranger told them of the Malays and his life amongst them, and
how their houses and customs resembled theirs, while Usoof, alone
venturing to remain upright, acted as interpreter as a swarm of young
brown relations clasped his hands and ruthlessly robbed him of his watch
and chain, his brass buttons, and all the loose coins in his pockets.
Then X., who has a material mind, asked to see the title deeds of their
lands, which were produced and inspected, and they were instructed how
to proceed, so that when the time came the absent Usoof, as the eldest
son, should obtain his fair share of the inheritance. Then, as the
shadows were lengthening, and the zigzags on the padi had given way to a
soft and mellow light fanned by an evening breeze, X. gave the signal to
depart and announced that farewells must be made. Hurrying over his own,
he wandered towards the river so that he might not witness the anguish
of the mother bereaved anew of her long lost son, but he could not
escape hearing the sounds of sobs which arose behind him. And the little
procession of two--the European with his limp collar, and the Javanese
bereft of all his finery--started once more across the plain. But the
procession grew and grew, as one by one the fond relations hurried after
it for one more glimpse or one more word for the departing brother.
Then the traveller began to feel as near a brute as ever in his life
before, and suggested to Usoof that he should bid him good-bye and
return for good to the bosom of his weeping family. But this he declined
to do, and at the rustic stile the actual parting came. Arrived at the
train, the good station-master was still on the look-out and walking
around as though something unusual had happened, but, tired and hot, X.
parried his questionings with some abruptness. But the interviewer was
as persistent as if he were on the staff of a London evening paper, and
after producing an inverted wheelbarrow, which he offered X. as a seat,
went to his house for a whisky and soda--called by the natives "Dutch
water." After that walk in the sun, his whole physical and nervous
system disorganized by the deglutition of strange fruits and condiments,
and by witnessing heartrending family farewells, an unexpected whisky
and soda, when such a restorative had seemed as unobtainable as the very
moon which was beginning to appear, was welcome indeed. The
station-master was at once the master of the situation, and the hitherto
taciturn Englishman, his thirst assuaged and his limbs at rest, became
as communicative as a star of _the_ profession, and answered all
questions as fully and docilely as a willing witness in the hands of his
own counsel.