We had not been long on the road when we noticed people stopping and waving when they saw us coming. This increased more and more, until we reached the market where I used to do my monthly shopping. There the people left their stalls and crowded together in the road, shouting and waving “Slamat datang, Tuan dan Nyonya” – “Welcome, Sir and Madam, welcome back”. How glad we were that we had not listened to the Japanese Commandant who had told us that the country was in an uproar. The people were only too delighted to see us back. Towards evening we entered our village, collected the children and were taken to the girls’ dormitory (where formerly the schoolgirls from the mountain villages had slept). Our luggage was there, but the Japanese Commandant was holding a farewell feast in a large hut nearby. We went there at once, and said we had come to stay. We asked them to vacate the bungalow as soon as possible. The Commandant apologised for there being no beds available immediately but they would go as soon as it could be arranged. We did not mind this. We had slept on the floor for two and a half years – a few more nights would not hurt us. We returned to the bungalow, and there awaiting us was a great crowd of our own people all bearing gifts. It was the best Harvest Festival I had ever seen! Chickens to fill up the chicken run, a large bag of rice, a sack of corn, and enough bananas and vegetables to feed an army. There were paw-paws, pineapples, mangoes, avocado, oranges, etc., It was overwhelming, and we were dumbfounded at such generosity. The village people had so little themselves, and could have sold what they could spare at a very high price, but this was the practical way to show their joy at our return. When, at last, we had settled down for the night, there came a timid knock at the door. When my husband opened it, he saw a sick man with a chicken under his arm. This he placed in my husband’s hands, saying he couldn’t get there before, as he had been out in the fields when we arrived; but he could not sleep until he too had welcomed us. He was crippled with elephantiasis. I was very touched by this incident, and it impressed on me, more than anything, how the people had appreciated our ministry among them.
The next morning, two of our former workers, the washman and the driver of our own dog cart, came to offer their services, as well as two other women and Ngatina, who wanted to help me clean up the house when the Japanese left. Niels began clearing up the gardens, with the help of the boys, and two days later the Japanese left. I remember it took 20 stangs (bars) of soap to scrub the bungalow clean. We were now back in our own home, but very depleted as to furniture. In particular our good mattresses, made from our own kapok, had been taken away to Palu for the Japanese Officers. Niels borrowed a bicycle and went in search of those mattresses; they were not hard to find, and after recovering were again re-usable. Cane chairs were also fairly easy to get, but our chief worry was oil. We still had to use coconut oil lamps. These gave only a dim light, and there was a lot of written work to be done in the long evenings. It was quite dark by 6.30.
Another great problem was clothing the workers who were anxious to climb the coconut palms. A quantity of coconuts had fallen down and could be split open and made into copra, but there were so many more on the 9,000 trees in the colony. What to do? At last I had an idea. I still had an old raincoat and so had Niels, and the linings were still good. I could make shorts from these – but I had no cotton! Then I thought of my white cotton socks – and unravelled them. Cotton for sewing! Soon the familiar cries could be heard from the trees as the young men chopped down the coconuts. They would yell out as the coconuts came tumbling down, and they felt their lives were getting back to normal.
The Sunday meetings were a joy as the people crowded into the services, particularly the first one after our return. The Songsters had composed their own song of welcome, and there were many who asked to speak. In fact, the whole congregation was full of praise and thankfulness that God had brought us safely back to them. Major and Mrs Sahetappy had done a splendid job in keeping the colony going, and deserved all our thanks. The Major had kept the books meticulously, and when the Japanese Commandant left, instead of destroying the records, he allowed the Major to save them as a mark of respect; so we could pick up our work where had left off.
Before we had left, Niels had distributed the cows among the colony families, with the arrangement that calves born in the intervening period should be returned to the colony. The pigs were sent to the various Corps Officers in the mountains, and also sent to the teachers in lieu of salary – strict records being kept! This greatly helped the Japanese Manager to carry on the work of the Colony as usual. The Salvation Army Song Books and Bibles were all as we had left them in the cupboard, as well as the cash books and ledgers.
It was nearly Christmas time 1945 before we got back to normal, but still we had no news from the outside world. We had heard that the Allies were in Borneo, so it seemed possible that we might now be able to obtain stores in Balikpapan. So the three husbands decided to go by small motor boat. The children badly needed clothes and all of us needed underwear and materials for making dresses. The men still had their white and khaki uniforms, so they could travel respectably dressed. They arrived safely, and were most warmly welcomed by the Australian troops. There was even an Army Red Shield canteen operating in Balikpapan. After some trouble, our men managed to get all the goods on their lists and set out for home. On the sea crossing they encountered a terrific storm, and had their bundles not been tied very securely, they would have lost the lot. However, once again, in the Providence of God, they arrived safely. Francis was especially glad to see his porridge oats – he had missed them for his breakfast all through the war. We others were longing for bread; we were so sick of rice for every meal every day. So I got to work making bread, and distributed loaves to the women who had been so good to me. Every day they had brought an offering of vegetables to my kitchen table till our own could be harvested.
Now we began our preparations for Christmas, hoping every day for some news of the outside world. At last it came. One afternoon, the ‘phone rang from Palu. A group of Dutch soldiers had arrived in Palu from Moretai, and would like to meet us. We were soon on our way as fast as the pony would trot. We had to get there before midnight or else it would be too late. As it happened we got there just as the Dutch were leaving. When they saw us, of course, they sat down again and greeted us most warmly. Through their good offices we were able to send telegrams to Bandung and London, assuring our families and Headquarters that we were safe and well. Since they had not heard from us since 1942, it had been presumed we were dead, ‘Missing believed dead.’ The soldiers gave us armfuls of newspapers, and we sat up till the early hours, reading our fist news in four years. It was now December 1945.
That Christmas was a time of real celebration. My Home League women had helped me to bake cakes of every kind, now that we had flour as well as the local ingredients. We provided a Christmas meal for all the villagers. For this, the benches were cleared from the hall after the 5 am service, then mats were laid down so the people could sit down in family groups. Instead of plates, banana leaves were used, and the people brought their own cups. They ate with their fingers as usual, but very delicately. What a happy crowd they were as we surveyed them from the platform! Our children, of course, mixed with their friends and were just as happy. The previous day we had been round with a wagon carrying parcels for the families. These each contained a portion of meat, rice, tea, white sugar and coffee. (We had about 5,000 coffee bushes in the Colony). Goods were gradually trickling through in the shops, but tea was what the people most appreciated. This was drunk at all meals, without sugar and milk, but the women like sugar with their tea sometimes, particularly when coming home from the fields. We used to give dress material at Christmas time and a uniform dress for the school children which we had made. The women’s sarongs (skirts) were made of strong calico, so they did not need to be replaced. The local market was functioning now, so gradually the clothing problem became less acute.
Our money was getting very short again, but as we were expecting a cheque from Bandung, Niels spent his last guilders on buying some pigs – or, rather piglets from a nearby village. Soon we could begin to sell pork in Palu. We also had a few cows and plenty of healthy-looking chickens. The price of copra was rising too, so things began to look better. Not for long! A telegram came asking us to make arrangements to go to Jakarta, the capital of Java. This was a blow, for we had been hoping for instructions to go home on furlough. We had been without homeland furlough for ten years! But orders had to be obeyed, and once again we packed up and went to Donggala, to catch the ship bound for Jakarta.