239 “Suma na a p’pa, na wan fu den srafu fu dya?”
240 “Nono, misi, misi no sabi en.”
241 “Suma gi yu bere?”
242 “Taigi mi, suma?”
243 “Mi no sabi en no? Mi no sabi mi eigi masra no? A no masra Julius gi yu bere? A no en?”
244 “No no masra Jethro, ke ba, lusu mi masra ke, lusu mi!”
245 “Un komopo gowé. Ma yu dati, yu didibri, m’o kisi yu ete.”
246 “A sabi, no?”
247 “Mini-mini, yu a gowe nanga a masra disi!”
248 “Mini-mini no dé.”
249 “Gowé!”
250 “A no de masra.”
251 “A no de, pikin masra, a no de, a gowé.”
252 “Yu sabi pe Mini-mini de?”
253 “A no de pikin masra, ke poti, mi no sabi baya.”
254 “Masra Beunekom, na en teki en.”
255 “Keba, ke.”
256 “Masra, kon yepi mi dan, me dya. Kon puru mi, mé begi yu, kon puru mi.”
257 “Opo, opo na doro!”
258 “Mi no habi na sroto.”
259 “Taigi yu masra dati bakadina mi e tyari na moni gi en, a doro srefi mi sa pai.”
260 “Fa fu en?”
261 “Yu n’e go tan drape, na masra Jethro w’e go teki.”
262 “Masra Julius sen’ teki masra Jethro fu go rij pikinso.”
CHAPTER XIII
OCTOBER 1778
By early 1778 the army, under the leadership of Colonel Fourgeoud and in collaboration with the Free Negroes Corps263, had managed to destroy nearly all the Aluku villages and farmlands. The Alukus themselves had fled across the Marowijne River and were now on French territory.
In February 1776 a message had arrived from the Prince of Orange that Fourgeoud’s troops must return. Many of the colony’s residents were, however, afraid that the Bonis would start their raids again, and asked for the troops to stay. A seemingly endless correspondence ensued. In the meantime the French were not particularly happy at having the fearsome Bonis on their land. Fourgeoud was asked for advice. He wanted to cross the Marowijne and exterminate the Maroons there. But Governor Nepveu did not dare to take this step, fearing a conflict with the French. And so the Bonis remained peacefully on the other side of the river. The French did not bother them.
In April 1778 Fourgeoud left the country with the majority of his troops. Of the fifteen hundred men, only about a hundred remained. Fourgeoud complained about the lack of gratitude on the part of the Suriname government, feeling that his good services had not been duly recognized.
By this time, however, the Suriname colonials and plantation owners had fresh troubles to worry about. Because of the war between the English and their North American protectorates there were all too many pirates on the seas. Ships from Suriname carrying goods destined for Amsterdam were regularly being captured by one group of villains or the other. As if that wasn’t enough, all kinds of diseases were breaking out among both cattle and people. Governor Nepveu was himself ill from June onwards.
ELZA
“I’m going too mama, I’m going too, hey?”
Elza had just reached the bottom of the stairs when the little Abigail in the corridor accosted her with these words.
“Going too? Where to, child?” asked Elza.
“To Ezau’s party tomorrow,” said Abigail impatiently.
“But of course you’re going!” said Elza with a chuckle, and before she had finished talking Abigail was already calling, “You see Jonathan, you see!” poking her little red tongue out at her brother, who emerged from the dining room with a grin on his face.
Elza understood what was going on. “Don’t be such a tease, Jonathan,” in a strict tone to her second son, who teased his little sister all too often. She ran her hand over the dark-blond hair of her four-year-old daughter. A sharp little thing, was this Abby, as the slaves and the boys always called her.
Elza went into the dining room, pondering on the differences in character between her two sons. On the one hand there was Gideon, now ten, already a big boy, resolute and always nice to his sisters, the four-year-old Abby and the baby of the family, Charlotte, now one-and-a-half. Jonathan was always tormenting Abigail, and Elza or Maisa was always having to come between the two of them when things got too heated. Now he had been telling Abby that she would not be able to go to Ezau’s party tomorrow because it was only for boys.
Elza still had a weak spot in her heart for Ezau. Now he would be thirteen and tomorrow would be his Bar Mitzvah. As in all Jewish families, this was the most important moment in the life of a boy. From then on you would be regarded as a man. The Jewish families in Suriname always celebrated this in grand style, and although the financial situation of many of them now left a lot to be desired, there had never been anyone who had scrimped on a Bar Mitzvah feast.