From Atjeh to Mejong Lodaja,part three reading time: approx 9 min
Tjoet moved in with Willem and made it clear to him that they had to get married. He liked her unwillingly. She could be unapproachable but in general she was comical and mischievous, sometimes sweet and always stubborn. When he contradicted her, she demonstratively saddled her horse to go back to her father, the oeleëbalang, but in the evening he always found her in his bed. 'I actually didn't plan to stay in Atjeh long enough to learn the language,' he told Arie. 'But on second thought, I'm in no hurry to leave.' Before long, Willem was able to fool his wife in her own language. Tjoet and Willem got married and Willem became a Muslim because Tjoet did not think about becoming Catholic. He accepted her decision without fuss. They were in Mohammedan territory, so it was obvious. Moreover, he told Tjoet, they couldn't follow two different religions as a married couple, could they? 'In Holland we have a proverb: “Two faiths on a pillow, the devil sleeps between them.”' His motivation for converting to Islam did not go further than the devil on the pillow. There was one small incident that he had overlooked, but which he laconically accepted as inevitable: he had to be circumcised. He saw the event as being on the same order of magnitude as having his tonsils cut, which had already been done in his childhood. It amused him to think what his parents would think, but he saw no need to write to them about it. He soon experienced that Tjoet was not a cat to handle without gloves. She demanded full control over her house and property and ruled over her domicile like a queen. Willem understood that this was the custom of the country, but it still took some getting used to for him. In Holland he would not have known any better than the man was lord and master. After some time, another woman entered their house. Yajoek was Tjoet's baboe. Of course Tjoet had a personal servant, he thought. After all, she was some kind of princess. It actually suited Willem well that Tjoet had someone close to her, because he gradually started to feel restless. How long would this life continue to fascinate him? He felt affection for his little warm-blooded wife, but there was no love. He saw his marriage as a pleasant intermezzo that would end sooner or later. One day he would simply disappear. Of course he could divorce her, but that seemed like a lot of fuss to him. He now knew Tjoet well enough to know that she would not allow herself to be pushed aside without objection. It was better to leave quietly, so that he wouldn't have to face her wrath. But first he wanted to go tiger hunting. Until he did that, he wouldn't be going anywhere. His father-in-law had promised him that he would be allowed to come along the next time. But it took quite a while. As a result, he lingered longer than he intended. And then one day he saw a special shine in Tjoet's eyes. Her skin appeared silkier, her hair had a deeper shine and her curves became softer. The marriage into which he had thrown himself as a joke turned out not to be as without obligations as he had thought. A baby was the last thing he needed. Moreover, the idea of a child with native blood repulsed him. His blood mixed with Indian blood, how was he supposed to solve this? It wouldn't be a problem on Java, where a pregnant native could be thrown out without mercy. But Atjeh was not Java and Tjoet was of course the daughter of an oeleëbalang. Even if her father had so many daughters, he would not be pleased if one of them were abandoned with a child. His father-in-law was indeed an important factor. He could also choose to stay a while longer, shoot his tiger and see what happens. Soedah, it was no different. He would get used to that brown baby. After all, he had also become accustomed to Tjoet's strange smells and habits. When Tjoet was already heavy with their child, he finally shot his tiger. Not from the back of an elephant, but simply from the ground where he walked among the foot soldiers. It was actually a sad display that gave him little satisfaction. To his disappointment, he was not even allowed to keep the tiger skin that he had wanted to put on the floor at home, because the rich Chinese, for whom the hunt was organized, demanded the skin.
It was 1865 when their daughter, Engko, was born. Willem and Tjoet no longer lived in Arie Bontje's merchant house, but had looked for their own house on the west coast of Atjeh. Their choice had fallen on Meulaboh. The fact that it was teeming with tigers was the deciding factor for Willem. A new baboe had joined them in Meulaboh, because Yajoek did not want to go to the west coast and stayed with Arie. Baboe Meutiah lived in the kampong, a small village nearby, and brought her child every day to play with Engko. The boy, Boeyoeng, was two years older than Engko. Willem knew nothing about the new baboe. Did she have family in the kampong, more children, parents? He wasn't interested. He was completely preoccupied with starting his own business. The experience with the rich Chinese who stole the tiger skin from under his nose had given him the idea of organizing safari trips for rich people who wanted to shoot tigers in the wilds of Sumatra. All in the tradition of the white hunters in Africa, about which he had read a lot. He was convinced that there was a lot of money to be made. Despite her youth, Tjoet was a lot more reserved. 'People here don't like hunting tigers.' 'They don't have to be people from here,' Willem replied in fluent Atjehnese. 'Those rich people come from everywhere. They pay a lot of money for such a trophy.' 'You will need capital to invest in tents and weapons.' 'I have enough money.' 'You'll need porters.' 'I'll find them.' 'Like I said, people here don't like hunting tigers. We believe that the souls of our ancestors live on in the tigers. That's why we don't kill them.' 'Money can buy everything. If I offer those porters enough, they will want to work for me.' 'Then you better be prepared to spend a lot of money on staff.'
Four years after Engko's birth, the Suez Canal was finally opened. As Arie Bontje had predicted, drastic changes were taking place at a rapid pace. The great powers divided Africa and Asia among themselves as if they were pieces of cake, but thanks to English intervention, Atjeh was still an independent sultanate. According to an old treaty, the Netherlands had to respect the free state of Atjeh. But now that the most important shipping routes passed through Atjeh, the Dutch changed their position. Willem missed Arie, who could have explained to him why England suddenly decided on a new treaty. He understood that with the opening of the Suez Canal, Atjeh had suddenly become the gateway to the Dutch East Indies and that other countries were watching with interest. That made the Dutch nervous. Ultimately it was a visiting captain who explained to him that the Netherlands wanted a free hand in Atjeh and in return gave Ghana as a gift to England. Again, as if it were a piece of cake. The women in Willem's house did not get involved in the political scheming. Other matters occupied their minds. Meutiah had taken Tjoet to a doekoen in the kampong, but despite the medicine man's interference, Tjoet no longer became pregnant.