Elza said little. She often sat silently in her room, looking in the mirror and seeing how the child grew within her, how her belly got bigger and bigger. How differently she had imagined all this. She often wondered whether she would have married Rutger if she had known that this was how it would turn out. Frequently she heard within herself a voice, as she had heard him that afternoon at Hébron, “Promise me that you’ll not become a jealous wife? Even if, for instance, I have a brief something or a short affair with another woman, promise me that you won’t be angry.”
And she had asked, “Such an incident or short affair, that would surely not happen in my house?” How had he answered? Had he not promised? He must have, surely! And where was ‘this incident’ happening, this relationship? Was it not here in her own home?
But the worst thing of all was that it was Sarith. Sarith of all people, her best friend, her sister, her playmate. Everything from the past was intertwined with Sarith, who was now her greatest rival. How confusing, everything, how difficult.
Often enough, Elza asked herself, too, how she would have managed if the roles had been reversed, but she also knew that the answer would always be the same. She would never have done such a thing. Never! She would never steal the husband of the person she regarded as her best friend.
Maisa had a busy time making baby clothes. She taught Afanaisa how to do this, and in the afternoon she would sit with Afanaisa and Amimba on the back steps, and those two sewed and embroidered what Maisa had cut out. Maisa was angry with Rutger as well as with Sarith. She was often very abrupt with him, and if she knew that Rutger had been with Sarith in her room, she would avoid him for the next two days, muttering about ‘people who behave like dogs.’73
Then, at the end of November, Elza’s father came to the town. He stayed only briefly. He wanted to see how Elza was faring, but he had also come to fetch Sarith. They would have to go to Joden-Savanna. Her grandmother, Grandma Mozes de Meza, was seriously ill. She would not be around much longer and Sarith must go there with her mother. After all, she was Grandma’s favourite grand-daughter. Sarith departed. Elza hoped above hope that Grandma Mozes de Meza would survive a few weeks on her deathbed before passing away. But this was not the case, and after about a week Sarith’s grandmother died and was buried. Aunt Rachel was, however, of the opinion that it was not possible for Sarith to go to Paramaribo during the period of mourning. It was inappropriate to go to dances when your grandmother had died only recently, and the De Ledesmas’ traditional ball was also cancelled due to this bereavement. The De Ledesmas spent New Year at Hébron, and this was reason enough for Sarith to stay peacefully at home.
During the night of 10 January 1768 Elza’s baby was born. Everything went very well and very easily. Maisa had got really worried, and with the first signs the evening before, Alex was sent to fetch the midwife. Rutger spent a tense night in his small office, and around three in the morning he heard faint crying. Half an hour later Maisa called him and he could see his joyful Elza, her hair still wet with sweat, but with a benign smile on her lips while she gazed at the little boy lying next to her.
Rutger looked at the little head, and, despite the midwife’s protests, drew the sheet aside to check that everything was present and correct with his little son. Kissing Elza on her forehead, he said, “All the happiness in the world be yours, my darling, for we have a fine son. What shall we call him?”
“You say it – what name did you have in mind?” replied Elza.
“What do you think to Gideon?” asked Rutger. “That was my grandfather’s name.”
“Then he’ll be called Gideon Rutger,” said Elza.
Then Maisa came in bearing a tray with cups of cocoa, and Rutger was sent packing to the guest room where he would have to sleep that night, for, as she put it, it was high time that Misi Elza got some sleep at last.74
67 “San de fu du nanga mi pikin misi dan?”
68 “Tantiri, ke ba, mi gudu, tantiri ba.”
69 “Dyaso.”
70 “San du misi Elza, Ashana?”
71 “Kan de na en masra wan kan sabi san du en, masra Rutger.”
72 “Go nay u masra, mi gudu misi, na en musu luku yu.”
73 “Libisma san e du, leki den na dagu.”
74 “En nanga misi Elza b’o go sribi now.”
CHAPTER VI
SARITH
A few days later a tent boat stopped off at Hébron on its way to a plantation on the Boven-Suriname River. The boat’s bell rang, and an errand boy rushed to the jetty to see what was going on. Waving a letter, he dashed back to the house, where Masra Levi was already waiting on the veranda to receive it. Just a little later the house rang to excited shouts and chatter. The letter was from Rutger, and told that a few days earlier Elza had given birth to a son. A hefty, healthy boy, almost seven pounds. Mother and child were doing very well. A beaming Levi told his wife, Sarith and Ashana, who had come running. Within a few moments the whole plantation knew. Ashana wanted to know more. What was the child’s name? Whom did he most resemble? Had everything gone smoothly? Was there really nothing further in the letter? Did the child have any hair? What was the colour of his eyes? Uncle Levi had to laugh at Ashana, “I really don’t know, Ashana, but we’ll go to the town to see him. Come with us and then you can see them for yourself.”75 And Ashana, who hardly ever left the plantation and had been in the town only once or twice, decided to go along to see her misi and her son when the family left for Paramaribo in a few days’ time.
During all the lively talking and decision making, Sarith went outside and sat in the summer house. With a book on her lap, which she did not read, she sat gazing into space. So, the baby was born. Elza had a son. No, Elza and Rutger had a son. Rutger! In what kind of situation had the three of them landed? In fact, she herself did not really understand how things could have gone as they had, but the facts spoke for themselves.
During the past weeks at Hébron she had had ample opportunity to think things through. She had dreamt of the possibility of everything turning out all right for her, and that would happen if Elza died in childbirth. Of course that was possible. So many women die in childbirth. Hadn’t Elza’s own mother died in this way? Then Rutger would be free and would marry her. At first she had thought that it would be better if the baby died, too, but later on her imagination wandered towards the idea that it would be better if it survived, because with a baby it was obvious that Rutger would have to remarry. And wouldn’t people think how sweet it was of her to become the mother of her stepsister’s child. And a baby wasn’t a problem: enough slaves to look after it and feed it. And of course in that case she would not keep Maisa, but she would quite probably not want to stay anyway if her beloved Misi Elza were no longer around, or perhaps she would, because of the baby. Well, that remained to be seen. And now the baby was born, but not the slightest mention of illness in the letter; on the contrary, mother and child doing fine. But well, anything was still possible.
Sarith had often wondered whether she really loved Rutger. She had told him so, but did she truly love him? In fact, she had to admit to herself that he wasn’t really her type, and she sometimes considered him tiresome when he started talking about all kinds of things and when he became angry about the punishments dealt out to slaves and the injustice of slavery. Nonsense, of course. Everyone knew that negroes were put on this earth to be slaves, and you must well and truly punish slaves to keep them on the straight and narrow. But when, on the other hand, she saw how charming he could be and how full of courtesy and concern he was for Elza, then she felt jealousy stabbing at her heart and wanted him just for herself. She sometimes felt like going to their bedroom, slinging Elza out of the marriage bed and going to lie down next to Rutger.
She, too, sometimes wondered how Elza would have reacted had the roles been reversed. But time and time again she had to admit that she knew full well that Elza would not have behaved like this were she in her position. If she were married to Rutger, or anyone else
for that matter, Elza would never have come to influence and steal her husband. It was simply not in her nature.
Every time Sarith considered that Elza was married, Rebecca was married, and so were all the other girls of her age, she got annoyed. How was this possible? After all, she was more beautiful than all the others. Men had always considered her attractive. Right from an early age she was admired by everyone for her beauty, and look now – twenty years old and unmarried; an old spinster. The coming week, on the twenty-second of January, she would be twenty. Was there ever a woman of twenty in this colony still unmarried? And that it should be her of all people, she, Sarith A’haron, the most beautiful of them all. When all this crossed her mind she became angry and defiant. This must change. But how? – she herself had no idea.
Three days later they were in Paramaribo. Uncle Levi’s luggage and that of her mother was taken to the De Ledesmas’, but Sarith’s was taken on a wheelbarrow from the De Ledesmas’ to the Wagenwegstraat where she would naturally be staying. What a surprise to find the whole family there. The room was suddenly full. Everyone just had to admire the baby, and Elza felt tears welling in her eyes when she saw Ashana. To think that Ashana had travelled to the town specially to see her child. Maisa proclaimed triumphantly that Misi Elza was doing really well, exceptionally well, almost indecently well. A new mother was supposed to be ill for at least two weeks, but this was not so in Elza’s case. In fact, if it were left to her, she would be up and around, but Maisa and the midwife would not hear of it. All new mothers stayed in bed for at least two weeks. Who had ever heard of a white woman being out of bed only a week after giving birth.
When Ma Rachel asked whether a good wet-nurse had been found, Maisa laughed. No question of a wet nurse – Misi Elza was feeding the baby herself. She had enough milk, was insistent on doing it herself, and Masra Rutger was in total agreement. There we go again, interfering in everything, saying that Elza was so well and that there could be nothing better for his son than the milk of a healthy mother, and who knows what diseases could be passed from a wetnurse to the child. And that Masra Rutger there, so pleased with his son. Did Misi Rachel know that he went to lie on the bed with mother and child and found it marvellous to see how the baby was fed? Maisa’s dark face was beaming while she was recounting all this, and Sarith got a strong impression that she told it so proudly in order to stress to her, Sarith, that everything was fine between her misi and masra.
Sarith herself hugged Elza warmly to congratulate her on her son’s birth. She stood next to the cot and turned to say, “Oh Elza, he’s beautiful.”
Mini-mini came in a little later bearing a large bouquet with a label, ‘Wishing you all happiness on the birth of Gideon Rutger’. With the family around, she just shook hands with Rutger, saying, “Congratulations on your son.”
But in the evening, when she met Rutger in the passage on the way to his bedroom, she said, “So, you’re a father then.” She had intended to make a more sarcastic remark, but that was unsuccessful, for Rutger, with his hand on the doorknob, replied, “Yes, isn’t it wonderful?” and went into the bedroom, where Elza was lying with her baby in her arms, and closed the door behind him.
ELZA
Pa Levi could not stay in the town for long. He had come by to see Elza a few times, but had to return to the plantation after a few days because it would be overseer Meker’s annual holiday. Of course Ashana returned with him. When Sarith had been in town for a few days – the baby was then ten days old – Rutger said that he had to go to a party that evening. The invitation had arrived two weeks previously. Of course Elza could not go, but he would go with Sarith. Elza had said nothing. Of course she would not be going and she knew that Sarith would be only too pleased to be going alone with Rutger.
When they came home, Elza listened nervously whether Rutger would go to Sarith’s room. She rather expected this, but she had heard the front door open had heard the footsteps on the stairs, and had then heard how Rutger said at Sarith’s door, “Well, good night then,” and the next moment was in their room. She heard Sarith downstairs calling, “Mini-mini, where are you?”76
“Oh, you’re still awake,” Rutger said, and began to describe how nice it had been, that the Lobo sisters were there, girls of fifteen and sixteen. Elza knew them well. Now, they had sung so beautifully. All kinds of songs – French, English, Dutch and especially Portuguese folk songs, and all so sweetly and charmingly. Well, he, Rutger, had thought that it would be good for them to throw a party, too.
In two days’ time, on the twenty-second, it would be Sarith’s birthday. She would be twenty, and wouldn’t that be a good occasion for a party, and everyone could see the baby.
“A party,” Elza cried in astonishment, “But Rutger, I’m still confined to bed. How is it possible?”
“Oh Elza, you need do nothing yourself. Maisa will see to everything. I’ll give her some extra money to buy everything. I’ve already arranged for the musicians, and along with Alex I’ll see to it myself that the lighting and tables and chairs and everything else is all right.”
“But how can I receive the guests if I’m still in bed, Rutger?” Elza sounded really upset.
“That’s quite normal here, nothing exceptional. When there’s a bris milah for a Jewish baby, the mother is in bed, and the party carries on in the house just the same. I’ve already invited a group of people from this evening’s do, and it will be nice for Sarith to have a party for her birthday.”
“For Sarith, of course for Sarith,” said Elza tearfully.
“Oh darling, don’t be angry.” Rutger leant over and gave his wife a kiss on her forehead. “Let’s do this for her. Look, you have a fantastic son, but what does she have, in fact? It’s surely not all that terrible to give a party for her. She’ll feel content and flattered and will only be kinder to you.”
Elza said nothing further. Perhaps Rutger was right. Perhaps everything was over between Sarith and him. After all, he had come directly to her.
The next day it was all hustle and bustle in the house. Sarith herself went to Esther and Rebecca to tell them that there would be a party for her twentieth birthday. Aunt Rachel, who was still in the town, had objected briefly: it was, after all, still quite soon after the death of Grandma Mozes de Meza. But all right – the party was at Elza’s, and she wasn’t a relative of the deceased.
Elza had continually asked Maisa whether she really could not get up. She felt fine. But Maisa was adamant. A white lady simply could not leave her bed before the sixteenth day. Who could guess what consequences that might have. And when Elza complained that most slaves were up and around with their babies after only three days; what was the difference – a woman was a woman, surely – Maisa had asserted brusquely, “Negroes are negroes.”77
On the twenty-second itself it was really hectic there in the house. Rutger had taken a day off specially. Elza lay in the bedroom with a contemplative expression and heard the footsteps coming and going downstairs. Chairs were set out in the front hall. The long table in the dining room would be used for the supper, with all the porcelain, crystal and silver being polished up by Amimba and Afanaisa.
When Rutger, amidst all the goings-on, paid a brief visit to her in the room and saw her lying on the pillows, he said, “How upset you’re looking, Elza.”
“Oh,” answered Elza with a shrug of her shoulders, “Isn’t this just typical of what is going on in this house. A party is being given in another woman’s honour, and I can just lie here upstairs in bed.”
“Oh dearest, are you feeling a bit neglected? Please don’t feel that way. Look, the party is for our son, too. And who has had this wonderful son, well you, of course! So do cheer up.” Rutger looked her in the eye while teasingly lifting her chin with his finger. “But you know what? To make sure you don’t feel neglected, we’ll come and have lunch here with you in this room, all right?” And he called Maisa from the stairs to set a small table in Misi Elza’s room so that they could eat there.
> Maisa did so, grumbling, “There’ll soon be ants on the baby.”78 But she was nevertheless pleased that Masra Rutger wanted to be with his wife so much that he wanted to have lunch in the room with her. Sarith did not come to eat with them, however. Mini-mini came to say that Misi Sarith wasn’t hungry, and so Rutger and Elza ate alone, and Elza was cheerful again.
After lunch, when Rutger was already lying on the bed for his afternoon nap, wearing only thin pyjama trousers, and Elza was half asleep, there came a timid knock at the door. It was Mini-mini coming to say that Misi Sarith had asked whether Masra Rutger could come along briefly.
Rutger left the room. Elza waited and waited. Rutger did not return. Half an hour passed, then an hour. Where could he be? He couldn’t be with Sarith all this time. Elza became furious. This was too much. She had to know whether Rutger was with Sarith in her room. She would get up. She let her feet glide from the bed; slowly she stood up. Oh what an unpleasant feeling she had in her legs and feet. It felt as if there were a thousand needles in her feet, and her legs were so limp. Perhaps Maisa was right: it was bad to get up before the sixteenth day. But she had to, just had to. Step by prickly step she began walking cautiously, first to the door and then along the passage, softly, step by step. Oh those feet, those pins and needles. There she was by the door of Sarith’s room. She heard nothing. Perhaps Rutger wasn’t there; perhaps he was downstairs. Should she call downstairs? But then she suddenly heard soft voices coming from the room. She bent down, looked through the keyhole, and could just see a part of the bed. She saw Rutger’s bare shoulder and she saw Sarith’s bare arm thrown round Rutger and her black hair lying over the pillow and across his shoulder.
The Cost of Sugar Page 11
