The next day they had to go looking for the village, which had to be nearby. Jan felt so sick that he had difficulty moving at all. At a certain moment they halted. The group had to spread out, everyone in a different direction. Jan went about a hundred metres through thick brushwood, saw fallen tree trunks and was about to climb over them when he saw a village, perhaps a hundred and fifty metres in front of him. Through the bush he saw roofs, women working outside the huts. He could picture the scene there: women preparing food, children playing. He had to get away, quickly, and no-one must come this way, no-one must see the village.
He went back as fast as he could, already shouting that there was nothing there, that it must be in the other direction, certainly in the other direction. The officer and other soldiers looked in amazement at the quiet, timid Jan, suddenly so talkative and insisting that the village was certainly on the other side. But then a few other soldiers came up who had gone in the same general direction as Jan. One of them had climbed a tree and had seen the village. There it was, and they would have to creep up on it and attack. And so it happened. A quarter of an hour later the women and children and a couple of old men were taken by surprise by a group of wild soldiers, shooting and hacking at everything in sight. A complete bloodbath followed. All fourteen villagers were murdered. Soldiers ran eagerly to and fro to hack off hands and so collect their bonuses in due course.
Jan did not take part in the massacre. Despondently he sat down by a tree, head in his hands. Was this really necessary? A group of excited soldiers had just returned from the village, swords and hands smeared with blood, when a faint cry was heard in the distance. The cry of a child. So there was still a child somewhere: find it and kill it; that was good. The soldiers set off again, and Officer Bels, who was still watching Jan, called, “Go on Jan, go for it, you can do it!”
“No,” screamed Jan. “No, no!”
“Why not, Jan – are you scared?” shouted the officer.
Jan said nothing, putting his arm in front of his face and laying his head on his knees. The other soldiers had gone. Jan heard cries and muffled blows. “No,” he choked into his arm, “No, oh please not this.”
Then it was quiet for a while and he heard the officer saying, “Look Jan, look in front of you.” When Jan looked up, he saw the bloody, smashed head of a small child. With a scream he sprang up, only to fall to the ground again the next moment. His head in his hands, he could no longer contain himself and started weeping uncontrollably, howling like a child.
The soldiers first stood watching, but then Officer Bels started laughing out loud, “Ha, ha, ha,” and in no time the whole group was laughing, “Ha, ha, ha,” and from left, right and centre, “Are you scared Jan? Jan, are you frightened? Are you afraid, Jan?”
From that moment on he was the laughing stock of all the soldiers. Everyone made him look stupid. Any moment a frog or a snake would be thrown at him, and if it startled him there came from all directions, “Are you frightened, Jan? Jan, are you scared?”
They forged ahead. The success had encouraged them. Perhaps they would find more villages. When Jan wanted to sleep at night, his hammock had disappeared or he found a snake on the spot. When he sat eating, a hacked-off negro hand would land in his bowl of peas. On one occasion it was the hand of that child. And every time there would be the laughter and the cries of, “Jan, are you scared?”
Jan felt increasingly ill. Sometimes he had fever and lay shivering on the ground. The next day the fever had gone, but he was so weak, he could not take a step further. And all the time he thought how stupid and naïve he had been, believing back home in Holland that could just go to Suriname to catch negroes and then simply find some gold and return wealthy. He would be lucky to get out of this green hell alive.
Finally, he could do nothing more. Now he was carried. The negro porter whom he had once helped was the only person to pay any attention to him, now and then giving him something to drink. The doctor in the group had already realized that Jan would not make it by a long chalk. Jan became delirious and started talking all kinds of nonsense. About gold, about peace, about good negroes, about grandma’s shawl and a warm skirt. Before dying, he said to the porter who came to give him a can of water, “Tell them that there was no gold – no, no gold.”
JULIUS
Sarith had decided to reward Kwasiba. She did not yet know how, but a reward she would certainly get. However, when the family returned to Klein Paradijs, Kwasiba was sick. She had high fever and chest pains, her cheekswere sunken and her eyes dim. “Kwasiba, what’s wrong?”222 asked Sarith, shocked. “Oh misi, I’m old, I’m tired,”223 came the answer, weakly.