memories now. The PKI had but a small cadre, most of which was in Semarang.12
With the decline in spirit of Sarekat Islam, the Garut affair, the arrest of Tjokroaminoto, and the divisions within the SI, we saw a reemergence of the confidence of Dutch imperialism, which had actually been weak in opposing SI during the First World War. This renewed self-confidence was strengthened through the introduction of various laws shackling freedom of association, assembly, press, and speech. These laws significantly restricted human and democratic rights and hindered both the nationalist and trade-union movements. Nevertheless, they were all obvious traps that could be avoided or bypassed. But there was another trap which could not be seen by the leadership and which lay like a hidden bomb that could explode at any time. This was what was known as the exorbitante rechten— extraordinary powers held by the governor general of the Dutch East Indies which enabled him to exile any movement leader regarded as a danger to the public order (read: danger to what the Dutch colonizers saw as order). As long as the governor general held these powers, anyone considered a threat to Dutch colonialism could be arrested and exiled with no opportunity for self-defense in a legal and open trial.13
[68] In such an atmosphere, the November Promises, wherein the Dutch colonial government under pressure agreed to independence for Indonesia, were worth nothing and were little by little withdrawn.14 What was granted was the playhouse on Pejambon, Batavia, known as the Volksraad.15 And along with this came press, assembly, and association traps and the power to exile Indonesians from their homeland and society, or to the jungle as in Digul.16
“It is a long way to the prairy [sic], a long way to go.”17 I did not arrive in the midst of a fiery political situation, where the murba strove to implement a clear program through a disciplined and tight organization.18 The time of the struggling murba was far behind and that of a national organization—united and disciplined, able to seize and hold an area larger than Europe and having seventy million inhabitants—had not yet arrived. It was fitting, then, that I should enter Semarang through the door of education.
When I left Deli for Semarang, I was convinced that I wanted to set up an educational system suited to the existing needs and spirit of the masses. I had already determined the basic direction to take, and my experience at Deli for nearly two years served to reinforce this. What I needed now was a place where I might work in freedom, raw material in the form of pupils, a building and equipment, and, what was of equal importance, an environment that placed value on the work of education.
When I stopped in at the house of my teacher Horensma, now promoted to inspector of Indonesian primary schools and based in Jakarta, he asked whether I wanted to work in the capital and what I wanted to do, so that he could try to help me.19 I answered that I wished to continue the endeavor that he knew about and that he had never opposed and had even encouraged. His reply was brief: “Go right ahead with it.”
In Yogyakarta I stayed with a new friend, Sutopo, a former editor of the Budi Utomo newspaper.20 I had a letter of introduction to him from a friend of mine in Medan, the chairman of Budi Utomo there.21 Sutopo immediately pressed me into leaving the hotel and coming to stay in his house, where I was treated like a brother who had just returned from a long journey. He introduced me around and tried to set up a school for me to run. However, by chance Sarekat Islam was meeting to discuss the conflict inside the organization resulting from the “Darsono criticism,” and Sutopo introduced me to Tjokroaminoto, Darsono, and Semaun.22
[69] Tjokroaminoto also treated me like an old friend. He acted as though he were unaware of his great influence throughout Indonesia and of the fact that Westerners called him “the uncrowned king of Indonesia.”23 He was friendly to everyone who approached him. “Once you are Tjokroaminoto’s friend it’s hard to part from him, let alone become his enemy,” a member of the PKI and a former follower of Tjokroaminoto said to me. “Tjokroaminoto’s voice holds the heart of the Indonesian people,” said another friend. And Tjokroaminoto left me saying, “The doors of Sarekat Islam are open to you.”
Before the meeting everyone was exceedingly busy. I was taken to see Darsono. He said: “Our people still take political differences too personally. They are not yet able to separate people’s political positions or words from the individuals themselves, especially with people they love dearly.”
Darsono was visibly affected by the personal attack that had been launched against him. Indeed, he had even been threatened when trying to defend his position at meetings. It must be stated that Tjokroaminoto’s popularity was still extremely high at that stage. But the committee that examined the “Darsono criticism” affirmed his right to criticize and found fault only with the manner in which he had done so.
Semaun, who dressed simply but attractively, in harmony with his expression and his smile, asked no questions. He just said, “Get ready to come to Semarang with us tomorrow. We shall try to put you in charge of education. It certainly is time for such a step.” Unfortunately, I had to part from Sutopo, who urged me to remain in his house in Yogyakarta, because he really had been trying hard to get a school established for me.24
It often happens that when we are spurred on by strong desires we forget that our physical beings are subject to the laws of nature. When my body was adjusting to the European environment, its climate, and my shortage of necessities, my health was severely threatened. It was restored only when I adjusted myself to the lifestyle there, one which I continued in Deli, in fact to an even greater degree.
[70] At first I was not aware that I was now in Java, in a physical situation as different from Deli as the earth from the sky. I did not notice that houses in Java were not like those in Deli or Bussum, and neither was the food. Nor was I aware that the climate in Semarang was different from that of the other places. I forgot all this because I was in a new context, one in which I could speak freely to my comrades in the struggle. On the first day there, I fell ill and was stretched out on a bed in Semaun’s house in Suburan kampung. I had a bad fever and finally had to be taken to the hospital. I was suffering a lung inflammation and had to be nursed for a month.25
Our bodily organs are not able to endure sudden major changes. Just as glass plunged into boiling water will certainly break, so even a strong body will fall ill if suddenly put into a very different situation. But as glass will not break if it is slowly lowered into the boiling water, so this mortal human body must be gradually acclimatized to new and different surroundings. We often forget this, particularly if our spirits are in a secure and pleasing environment.
When I felt somewhat stronger again, Semaun organized a special meeting of the members of Sarekat Islam Semarang to discuss the question of establishing a school. This proposal was well received, and that very day we began registering pupils. A school building was no problem since Sarekat Islam Semarang had its own building for meetings, which we could use temporarily. We quickly obtained benches, blackboards, and other equipment, and in one or two days I was able to commence with around fifty pupils.26
In my small pamphlet S.I. Semarang dan Onderwijs [Sarekat Islam Semarang and Education] I outlined the principles and aims of our school, as well as the means by which we might achieve those aims.27 We did not try to educate our pupils to become clerks, as did the government schools. On the contrary, apart from teaching them to earn a living for themselves and their families, we taught them to help the masses through the movement. Obviously, then, the basis we used was the democratic principle appropriate under colonialism: to live together with the masses in order to raise their level, and not to become a member of a class apart to be used as an instrument of oppression against one’s own people. With such principles and aims, the methods by which the intelligence, emotions, and desires of the pupils were advanced were harmonized with the interests, the daily work, and the ideals of the masses and with the people’s movement and organizations.
[71] Since nearly all the pupils were children of peasants, laborers, or small traders and low-level employees with direct or indirect ties to Sarekat Islam, relating their education to the daily work of the people and to the ideals of the movement was not difficult. It was not surprising that after a short time the pupils’ parents began to see their children