_January 17, 1903._[1]
For three longs weeks not a drop of rain has fallen. It is boiling hot
as it has never been before, even in the dryest Oostmoesson.
Father is in despair; the young rice in the fields is turning brown, Oh,
our poor people! So far they have had enough to eat here and they do not
know the most frightful of all calamities which a land can
suffer--Famine. But what has not been, may be; and this great drought in
the time of the wet season presages anything but good. What will happen
if it keeps up? For several mornings the wind has blown as it usually
does first in May. Has the turning point been reached, has the dry
season begun?
It is frightful, every one looks on helpless. It is hard to see
everything that has been sown and planted turn brown and die, without
being able to turn a finger to help it, and the great heat harasses the
body too; one feels dull and listless.
What do you think of such a complaint from a child of the sun? Oh, how
frightful for the people who are working out in the fields, if for us in
here it is so scalding hot, and this is the wet season (Westmoesson). Do
not be chary with your cold; could you not spare a little of it? You may
take as much of our warmth as you wish.
[1] To Mevrouw Van Kol.