Chapter 7: In central Celebes

We now had a new leader, Commissioner Beekhuis. He visited us on his welcome tour and must have learnt that Niels had been a farmer, for not long after we were asked if we would go the farm colony in Celebes. This was an island a week’s voyage away by boat. The Kalawara farm colony was primitive, without electricity or running water. It had only a deep well and a narrow sluggish canal fed by a fast flowing river several miles away. Before we agreed to go, many officers had advised against accepting because three officer families had lost children there owing to lack of medical help. In our hearts, however, we knew it was the right place for us, so I sought advice about the children and possible ailments from our Surabaya Hospital. I stocked up with the necessary pills, quite assured that if the Lord wanted us in that place, He would protect us from harm. In fact, I can say we were really happy about the appointment. There were no schools for the children, so I decided I would teach them myself with my own material and the guide from a Dutch correspondence course to be sent from Java.

After a week’s pleasant journey by ship, we had a long car ride to Kalawara, and I remember entering the flower-bedecked ‘Welcome’ gate. In the distance were the surrounding mountains and my heart lifted in thankfulness that we had arrived at the place where we could again do ‘real’ missionary work.

A few months previous to our arrival there had been an earthquake and the colony house and ‘go-downs’ had all been destroyed. A new large garage had been built and this was to be our temporary home until our bungalow was ready. It was to be a pre-fabricated building made in Samarinda, so it would be a few months before we could move in. In the meantime, the colony shop was being completed and the clinic was to be our dining/sitting room. At the rear of the buildings were orchards, and in the front, lawns, so the children had plenty of playing space. We soon had a vegetable garden planted and the chicken run filled with healthy-looking birds.

There was a small township fifteen miles away, but there was a large market halfway between, which the children and I would visit almost every week in our dogcart, driven by an Indonesian boy. The children especially loved these trips. In those days there were few cars on the road. Most of the produce was brought in high baskets on the back of Indonesian men and women from their own gardens. The Chinese growers living in the mountains brought some fine cabbages and potatoes. The Indian merchants came with their bright materials in great bundles on their backs. It was a lively meeting place and very interesting to listen to the various dialects, though the merchants could mostly understand Malay.

The next important problem was what to do with the poor emaciated cows. There was scant grazing ground, mostly marshland, and our predecessor had little knowledge of animals and their feeding and left the care of them largely to the locals. Permission was obtained from our headquarters in Bandung to sell some of the stock and slaughter others. This was done, and in a few months the remaining herd looked healthier. Next, my husband turned his attention to the piggery. He had proper pigsties built so that the feeding could be controlled. Although the Muslims would not eat the pork, he knew this would bring in a good sum when sold to the Chinese in the neighbouring town. It was at this time I really began to take an interest in the livestock, and any calf or piglet needing extra food became my responsibility. It was a new and interesting occupation, especially as the animals would follow me around as soon as I appeared. It was fine having an orchard so near and we were never short of fruit and vegetables, rice from the fields and milk from our own cows.It was time for Ann to begin school, so my husband had a desk made at the carpenter’s shop and I fixed up the children’s bedroom as a schoolroom. I was a little anxious as to how Ann would react to a one-pupil school, but she accepted it quite happily. I studied the Teachers’ Guide from the correspondence course every evening and, as this was in Dutch, it was a good opportunity to teach Ann this language and improve my own. The session started with a little song and prayer and then followed the curriculum, which was based on the Montessori method. Within three months Ann could write simple dictation. Every quarter, proof papers had to be sent to Java, so I was able to keep track of her progress from the marks she received. She even had to make up her own little stories from time to time from those I had read to her, and these always received good marks, as did her paintings. In the second half of the year, two other officers’ children joined us, and another at the end of the year. More desks were made. By the beginning of the next year another girl joined us and Francis began his first year. Now we had a school for 6 pupils, and they marched into school just as other children would do. They sang their song lustily before the morning’s lessons began at 7.30 am (the coolest part of the day) then, after a short break at 10 am, continued until 12 o’clock. The four visiting children slept together in the guest room and were very happy together with their little maid, Sumia, who looked after their comfort. She did the daily wash and kept the rooms clean. These happy, busy days were soon to be brutally ended.

My husband and I had great plans for the colony, one of them being to start a Boarding School for officers’ and teachers’ children from the mountains. In their small village schools only three standards were possible, and the Divisional Commander, Lt. Col. Woodward, was anxious to have a place where the boys and girls could further their education. They had very little money to pay for this service, but on the farm colony they would work in the afternoon for their keep, and do their homework in the evenings. We had accommodation for them and in 1939 the first batch of 30 boys was received. The next year, when the new girls’ dormitories were finished, we had a dozen girls and I had the oversight of this large family.

At Kalawara we ran a daily polyclinic. This opened at 6 am and for one hour I dealt with patients not only from our own colony but from surrounding villages. After a few months I had an Indonesian Lieutenant who had some training, so between us we managed to help most of the folk who came to us. Serious cases were sent on to the Army Hospital in Palu the capital of central Celebres. One of the most prevalent ailments was festering sores. Because many of the people had to come long distances, I would give them a bottle of permanganate of potash lotion and a bag containing seven pieces of lint spread with ointment and seven bandages. When I started this treatment I was very doubtful about the results, but to my amazement my patients followed the instructions to keep the wound clean and change the bandages daily. The wounds, which had been troubling them for weeks, often healed. Our colony children often suffered from boils so I gave them daily doses of cod liver oil at the clinic. There was always a large tin of sweets handy, so that immediately the mother managed to hold the child still and I had administered the medicine, I popped in the sweet! Another very troublesome ailment was Elephantiasis which I couldn’t cure, but I could relieve the pain. Happily, since the discovery of penicillin, this disease has now almost vanished. Malaria and Typhus were also very prevalent and we regularly dosed ourselves with quinine, and never drank water that had not been boiled.

At this time I was also able to develop a garden of flowers. It was very hot at midday and we had very little rain, so I had to choose flowers suitable to the climate: African marigolds, all kinds of daisies, coreopsis, canna, zinnia and our favourite bridal veil, that grew around an archway that we built to give shade to the girls who would gather on Saturday afternoon. During this time, the girls were learning embroidery while the boys played badminton and football. They were all members of the Torchbearer Club. The girls especially liked dressing up in their bright jackets and sarongs on their free Saturday afternoons. Before we came they were only allowed to wear them on Sunday for the Meeting.

Another plan we had was to help young men build their own homes before they were married. Previously, the colony employees would be paid to do this, and the newly married couple would be burdened with the cost. Often this would spread over many years, and they could never hope to own the house and land upon which it stood. The carpenter was a good Salvationist, and often in the evenings, would give help and advice to the young men who were busy building their homes. I wanted the women to have a rice-stamping machine to relieve them of the burden of stamping their rice every evening when they came home tired from the fields. But all our plans stopped when we heard of the approach of the Japanese army. Very fortunately, they passed by our island on their way to Java and we breathed again. In fact, we continued our daily programme until 1942.