No, truly she did not know, she had never thought of it, she was still
so young, still so full of joyous young life. But the question of her
little white friend made a deep impression upon her; it would not let
her rest, incessantly--she seemed to hear sounding in her ears the words
"What are you going to be when you grow up?" That day she did much task
work in school, she was so absent-minded, gave the most foolish answers
when she was asked a question, and made the silliest mistakes in her
work. It could not have been otherwise, for her thoughts were not on her
lessons, she was thinking of what she had heard in the recreation hour.
The first thing that she did when she got home was to run to her father
and lay the problem before him.
"What am I going to be when I grow up?"
He said nothing, but smiled and pinched her cheek. But she would not
allow herself to be put off, and waited, teasing him for an answer. At
last an older brother came in, and answered the question. Her greedy
listening ears heard these words:
"What should a girl become? Why a Raden-Ajoe, [a Javanese married woman
of high rank], naturally."
The little girl was satisfied with the answer, and went quickly and
happily away.
"A Raden-Ajoe," she repeated several times to herself. "What is a
Raden-Ajoe?" The idea was with her always; she thought constantly of the
two words, "Raden-Ajoe." She must later become such an one. She looked
around her, saw and came in contact with many Raden-Ajoes, regarded them
attentively, studied them, and what she learned (as much as a child
could understand) of the lives of these women, caused the spirit of
opposition to awaken in her heart against this being a Raden-Ajoe--the
ancient iron-bound rule, that girls must marry, must belong to a man,
without being asked when, who, or how.
This little girl reached the age of twelve and a half, and it was time
that she should say farewell to her merry childish life, and take leave
of the school-benches upon which she had been so glad to sit; and of the
little European companions among whom she had studied so willingly. She
was old enough to come home according to the custom of her country. It
demands that a young girl remain in the house, and be rigidly secluded
from the outside world until that time when the man for whom God has
created her shall come and take her to his dwelling.
She knew all too well that with the school door much that was
unutterably dear would be closed to her for ever. The parting from the
dear teacher, who bade her farewell with such sympathetic, cordial
words, counseling resignation, and from little companions, who with
tears in their eyes pressed her hand.
It was hard, but it was as nothing in comparison with the giving up of
her lessons, the ending of her studies. She was so bent upon learning,
and she knew that there was much more yet to be studied before one can
even go through the lower school. She was ambitious, and she did not
wish to stand below her little white friends, most of whom were going to
Europe later, or her brothers who went to the High School.
She implored her father to allow her to go to the High School at
Semarang with the boys; she would do her best; her parents would never
have to complain of her. She crouched on her knees before him, her
pleading hands resting upon his lap, her great child's eyes were raised
up to him full of longing, and in breathless suspense and anguish she
waited for his answer.
Caressingly he stroked the dark little head, his fingers pushed back
tenderly the rebellious locks from her forehead, and softly and yet
firmly, the word "No" came from his lips.
She sprang up, she knew what "No" from him meant. She went away and
crept under the bed to hide herself; she wished to be alone with her
grief.
Once her teacher had asked her if she could not go to Holland to study
with Letsy, his daughter, who was her friend. She listened eagerly and
with shining eyes.
"Would you not like to go?"
"Do not ask me if I would like to go; ask me if I may," came hoarsely
from her trembling lips.
Good man, he had meant to be so kind to her. Stranger that he was to
native customs, he did not know how cruel his question was. It was
putting dainties before the eyes of one starving for bread.
Foolish girl, it was never the intention of your good parents to send
you to school to raise rebellious thoughts in your heart. You were to
learn Dutch, and Dutch manners, nothing more. Stupid little thing, if
that had been all you had learned so much misery in the future would
have been spared you. But the stupid little thing had not made herself,
she couldn't help it if God had given her a sensitive soul, and a heart
which readily absorbed all that the Dutch language had helped her to
think beautiful.
Poor little one. In her heart, Western thoughts found a joyous entrance,
yet she saw herself fettered hand and foot by Eastern tradition. And her
muscles were still too weak, too soft to enable her to break the chains
which bound her. And later when she found herself strong, so that with a
single jerk they could be wrenched asunder--did she do it? But we will
not run ahead with the story, we have not gone very far as yet.
The school door lay behind her, and the house of her parents welcomed
her to herself. Great was that house, and spacious were the grounds, but
high and thick were the walls that surrounded them and the closed in
four cornered space was henceforth to be her world, her all. Never mind,
how spacious and handsome, even comfortable a cage may be it is still a
cage to the little bird that is imprisoned there.
Gone, gone was her merry childhood; gone everything that made her young
life happy. She still felt herself such a child, and she was that in
fact too, but the law placed her inexorably among the full grown. And
she to whom no ditch was too broad to be leapt, no tree too high to be
climbed, who loved nothing so much as to run like a wild colt in the
meadows, must now be calm, composed and grave, as beseemed a Javanese
young lady of a high and noble house. The ideal Javanese girl is silent
and expressionless as a wooden doll, speaking only when it is necessary,
and then with a little whispering voice which can hardly be heard by an
ant; she must walk foot before foot and slowly like a snail, laugh
silently without opening her lips; it is unseemly for the teeth to show,
that is to be like a clown.
Ni sinned every second.
A dull, monotonous, slow mode of life began for her. Day after day
passed wearily away amid the same occupations, and the same people.
Sometimes there would be a bright spot in those first dark days, a visit
from Letsy. It was like a holiday when Letsy was with her; she became as
of old the merry child and forgot that she was a prisoner, but she
suffered doubly for the temporary forgetfulness after the little white
friend had gone.