The Persimmon Tree

by Bryce Courtenay

  The mayor was dressed to the nines in tailcoat and striped trousers. A starched wing collar and black bow tie were attached to the neck of his white shirt. A titter ran through the crowd as they noticed he wore a brand new top hat that was somewhat too large for him, so that it rested just above his eyes. No one in the crowd had ever seen a comical get-up quite like this but, except for the top-hat titter, the townspeople remained respectfully silent in the presence of the Japanese. No doubt it would cause a great deal of mirth back in the kampongs later that night. The Mayor of the Squashed Hat was obviously there to interpret.

  The colonel approached the microphone and the mayor hastened to stand on his left, the ends of his snowy white spats peeping from his cuffless striped trousers, highlighting the shine on his black patent-leather shoes. The kempeitai captain took two steps backwards, ignoring the four Chinese prisoners who knelt directly behind him, the nearest so close that he could have licked the heels of his jackboots.

  The mayor leaned forward, and as the microphone stand had been set for the taller Japanese colonel, the mayor was forced to stand on tiptoe in front of the unfamiliar contraption, appearing as if he would lose his balance at any moment. Now he yelled at the top of his voice so that the speakers crackled alarmingly. ‘People of Tjilatjap, it is with great honour that I introduce to you the esteemed Colonel Konoe, Commander of the Japanese Imperial Army Battalion, wounded valiantly in battle, a former Captain in the Imperial Guards Regiment!’ He then stepped to the side so that the Japanese colonel could speak directly into the microphone and he could interpret.

  ‘People of Tjilatjap, we come as your liberators and friends in the spirit of cooperation and in the name of the Greater Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere. We bring you salutations and now greet you as a free Asian people in the name of His Imperial Majesty, the Showa Emperor Hirohito.’

  Shouts of ‘Banzai! Banzai! Banzai!’ came from the battalion and the assembled kempeitai, while several people standing near the front shouted out as well.

  ‘The yoke of the colonial forces of the Netherlands has been lifted from your necks!’ Colonel Konoe’s voice rose to an emphatic level, though not quite a shout. ‘They stole your land and your riches and enslaved you for more than three hundred years! Now they have scurried like rats from a sinking ship! However, this is no sinking ship, it will sail again as a vessel, as a freedom-loving and independent State, a partner in the war against the white colonial oppressors.’

  He waited until the cheering from the large crowd died down before continuing. ‘But the cleansing of your society is not yet complete. In the community of Asian people there lurks a mutual enemy who has robbed you and exploited you! An enemy who does not belong in the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere, who is like an army of fleas on a dog’s back, sucking its blood while contributing nothing but disease. I speak, of course, of the loathsome Chinese, who have forced you into onerous debt and demanded crippling interest so that you are enslaved to them!’

  The cheering from the crowd in response to this last remark rose to a roar that continued for at least a minute. Colonel Konoe was striking exactly the right chord and the crowd was ecstatic. When at last he could continue, he went on to say, ‘While we will rid you of this pestilence, this evil presence, so that it no longer exists in your town, we have brought these four before you today as an example of our swift and honourable justice system. Others of their kind will be dealt with very soon. These four degenerates are typical of the evil influence that pervades yours and the other Asian societies we have liberated.’

  He turned to glance at the four kneeling Chinese, then returned to the microphone. ‘The first is a supporter and agent of the Kuomintang, the rapacious and evil-intentioned Chinese Government! The second is a murderous communist — no lower and more ill-conceived doctrine exists! The third is a Triad, a ruthless criminal in a brotherhood of evil! Finally, worst of all, the greedy and merciless merchant,’ he glanced quickly at his notes, ‘who entices and then cripples you with debt! The Emperor, His Benevolent Majesty, has particularly charged the Japanese Imperial Forces to rid you of this vermin, this pestilence, who are the lackeys of colonialism and grow fat and rich on the people’s misery.’

  ‘Banzai! Banzai! Banzai!’ followed from the battalion and the huge crowd now took up and echoed the traditional cry, waving Japanese flags and, where there was sufficient room, hugging each other and breaking into joyous and spontaneous dance. If it were possible, they showed that their hatred for the Chinese matched that of the way they’d felt about the Dutch.

  The tall Japanese officer waited until the cheering died down and finally came to the conclusion of his speech. ‘I will now command Captain Takahashi to behead these four criminals in the name of His Imperial Majesty.’ He paused only a second. ‘Long live His Imperial Majesty! May he rule ten thousand years!’

  ‘Banzai! Banzai! Banzai!’ came the response as the people gathered in the square went wild with joy. They would tell their children later in the kampongs that they had waited a long time, but now the power of their two great tormentors was finished. Their Dutch oppressors were the first. Now the insidious Chinese usurers had finally been brought to justice.

  Captain Takahashi came to attention and saluted, then rapped out a command. Four of the kempeitai soldiers immediately came to attention and took three paces forward, one behind each of the prisoners. To a second command from the officer, in unison, as if it were a practised drill, they removed from the right-hand pockets of their putteed trousers a blindfold, stepped another two paces forward and quickly and simultaneously blindfolded the hapless Chinese. Then they returned to the ranks by stepping four paces backwards. Another command and four more kempeitai stepped forward, first reaching down and picking up a small container of water placed on the dais behind them. They merely took a single step forward and remained standing, the dish held in both hands in front of them at chest height as if it was an offering.

  The people who were able to observe what was happening grew quiet and the ominous silence seemed to ripple through the crowd so that the entire square appeared to hold its collective breath. The emotionless face of the kempeitai captain terrified Anna even before he drew the long, slightly curved katana. The only sound was the soft ‘shrup’ of the sword as it left its sheath. The colonel and the mayor retreated to the rear right-hand side of the flag platform facing Anna and the others so that only Takahashi stood slightly angled behind the first victim. In the accustomed practice of a beheading, this was so his shadow wouldn’t fall on the bound, blindfolded Chinaman kneeling in front of him and cause him to flinch. Ancient tradition has it that in such circumstances awareness in the victim is so acute in the moments before death that even blindfolded he will feel the shadow of the master swordsman. Honour forbade the shadow of the executioner falling over the victim, causing a less than perfect decapitation.

  Glancing quickly at the colonel, who nodded almost imperceptibly, the captain swung the curved blade up and over his right shoulder. The sword flashed down so quickly that Anna caught the entire beheading before she had completely closed her eyes. She did not see the Chinaman’s head hit the surface nor the jet of blood that shot into the air from the neck stump and landed a metre away to splash down the steps of the flag platform. She felt Ratih gripping the top of her arm as a collective sigh, an expulsion of air, could be heard coming from those who witnessed the beheading. ‘Try to look, Anna, so you can prove you came,’ the cook whispered. She had seen from the side of the sunglasses that Anna had her eyes tightly shut. Anna opened them to see one of the kempeitai soldiers who was holding a dish step forward. The captain removed a small wet towel from the dish and wiped the blood from the blade of the sword, then stepped behind the next victim, again ensuring that his shadow didn’t fall over him. This time Anna wasn’t caught by surprise and her eyes remained shut while the captain beheaded the remaining three Chinese, each time wiping the blade of his sword with a f
resh damp towel from a different dish. The kempeitai captain then turned to the colonel with a deep bow, his boots and army pantaloons splattered with the blood of the Chinamen. Konoe nodded his head, bowing almost imperceptibly in return.

  Ratih still held onto Anna’s arm. ‘It is over, Anna,’ she said. ‘We can go now.’ Anna opened her eyes and turned her face away but not before she saw the four heads that lay directly below the severed necks as if they’d been previously carefully arranged. Captain Takahashi’s work had been precise. Anna fainted and Ratih’s desperate attempt to prevent her falling knocked the sunglasses from her head as, too heavy for the cook to hold, she collapsed to the gravelled surface of the square.

  Few, if any, people would have noticed Anna’s collapse. The crowd was too busy yelling ‘Banzai! Banzai! Banzai!’, shouting and cheering, jostling, craning their necks for a look at the severed heads. The four remaining kempeitai now stepped forward and grasped the heads by the hair, holding them high in front of them, careful to avoid blood splashing onto their polished boots. However, the Japanese colonel chose that moment to leave the platform and, careful to avoid the blood on the steps, took a different route to the one by which he’d arrived and now moved directly towards Anna. He paused momentarily beside her prostrate form just as she opened her eyes. Anna, still dazed, saw the face of the Japanese officer staring down at her and screamed. A quizzical and slightly startled look momentarily crossed Colonel Konoe’s face before he grunted and moved on. Budi and Ratih helped her to her feet and Budi retrieved her sunglasses, which had now been trampled underfoot, the lenses smashed and one arm missing. But they could not leave in the crush as people craned and pushed to see the four decapitated heads being impaled on long bamboo poles and secured, one at each corner of the flag platform, so they could now be seen from every part of the square — a grisly reminder that, with the Japanese military, retribution was swift and final. With mother and son on either side supporting Anna, Lieutenant Khamdani led them away, pushing his way through the jostling people, shouting ‘Pak Polisi! Pak Polisi!’ so the crowd would part to let them through.

  I should pause here to explain what undoubtedly happened to the remaining two hundred Chinese who were captured in Tjilatjap. All Anna can recall of the massacre is that the four heads were prominently displayed together with those of some local criminals, remaining on the posts in the town square for all to be warned that the Japanese would tolerate no disobedience from citizens and, also, that for several days the air was filled with the stench of benzine, acrid smoke and the smell of roasted human flesh. Captain Takahashi had ordered that the Chinese prisoners be tortured, shot, burned and buried in the single grave the locals had dug for them.

  The Chinese prisoners did not first dig their own graves, which would have been another form of psychological torture. The reason for this was ghastly but practical. For the most part, the prisoners would have been unable to walk. Most would have received, among other forms of torture, the final and most painful of all. They would have been made to sit on a small wooden block about half a metre high, with their legs stretched straight out, heels resting on another block of similar size and height. Their hands would have been bound behind their backs and the torso suspended in a sitting position by shoulder straps attached to the ceiling. This done, the shinbones of each leg were shattered by a wooden club, not unlike a baseball bat, and thereafter the same was done to their kneecaps. There is said to be no greater pain that can suddenly be inflicted on the human body without causing it to go into total shock and cause a heart seizure or death.

  Other forms of getting the Chinese to confess the whereabouts of hidden gold were the traditional water drip onto the forehead (by Japanese standards fairly tame), the application of electric shocks to the genitals, the ripping out of fingernails, or being tied up in the blazing sun for several days until they were literally sunbaked to death. As it required little imagination, whipping was the most common form of torture. They were simply beaten with various instruments: bamboo canes, leather whips and blunt metal instruments, until the flesh peeled from their bones. Another method was to place a prisoner in a vat and slowly bring it to the boil. It is claimed that these methods, used in Java and elsewhere, were child’s play compared to what the Japanese did to the Chinese elsewhere.

  My father spoke often of the poetry and refinement of the Japanese intellect. It had been one of the reasons he had taken a teaching position in Japan. He loved the Japanese aesthetes, their capacity to reduce a complex scene to the glorious simplicity of a haiku poem; how, with a few simple brush strokes, a Japanese artist could capture a wild and savage landscape, leaving scope for your imagination to supply the unseen detail. I was too young when I left Japan to appreciate much of this, but even at a young age I knew these people to be concerned with beauty, purity and simplicity. I have always found it difficult to accept that the same refined intellect can change into a remorseless and merciless killer, whose torture is blunt and brutal.

  For ten days Lo Wok remained in the cellar, his fortitude and even humour remarkable, for he never showed himself as being depressed, never complained and never failed to thank Anna for his food, delivered most days by Kiki and sometimes Til, and for the less pleasant chores she performed.

  Then one day Ratih and Til visited together to say that the lieutenant had visited a Bugis’ pinisi schooner that was in the port to check the contents of the hold, only to discover that it was captained by an old Macassar acquaintance, Ahmed Nur-make, who had been arrested by the lieutenant some years ago and had served some time in a Dutch prison for piracy.

  In my early childhood in Japan my father would threaten me with the sudden arrival of the dreaded bogeyman if I misbehaved. Later I would learn that William Makepeace Thackeray devised the term ‘bogeyman’ after learning about these Bugis sailors. The Bugis were criminals and always dangerous; sometimes they were pirates though they were also opportunists and genuine traders. During lean times other vessels were never quite safe when at sea. Boarding the pinisi schooner to look for stolen goods or contraband was, the lieutenant knew, a pointless exercise. The Bugis would have long since disposed of any illegal cargo before tying up at the wharf. It was a cat-and-mouse game where the mouse was usually smarter than the cat, but nevertheless the cat had to remind the mouse that it was still in the hunt.

  The upshot was that the Bugis captain agreed to smuggle Lo Wok to Malaya for the extortionate sum of one thousand guilders, an unthinkable sum of money and far more than the schooner captain could hope to make in several years of ruthless boarding and pillaging and then selling the stolen cargo. It was simply his way of refusing. The lieutenant had protested, whereupon Ahmed Nur-make had shrugged. ‘What can I do? He is a Chinaman, his life is worthless, but mine and my crew’s, who are also my family, are not. Allah akbar,’ he’d stated simply.

  The lieutenant knew as well as he did that if caught smuggling a Chinaman to safety Ahmed and his entire crew would forfeit their lives. The usual price of smuggling a common criminal offshore was known to be fifty guilders. He’d left giving the Bugis captain’s schooner a clean bill of health, knowing that under the Japanese the Macassar would consider themselves no better off than under the Dutch; a pirate is a criminal under any jurisprudence.

  Lieutenant Khamdani reported the fee Ahmed Nur-make was demanding to Ratih, certain that it amounted to an impossible demand.

  ‘We know he has five hundred guilders,’ Til said to Anna. ‘He changed the taxi-car-and-house note for you, but does he have more?’ He gave a soft whistle, thinking about the demanded fee. ‘It is twice as much as that, two taxi cars and two houses!’

  ‘Why don’t you ask him?’ Anna said. ‘Coming from you he will lose less face, rather than if Ratih or I — if a woman — asks him.’

  Til went around to the back of the house and returned ten minutes later. ‘He has only six hundred guilders. He says his wife has five hundred more and a little gold, but
he has sent her and the girl to the mountains and does not know their whereabouts. They were told only to find somewhere they could buy their safety.’ Til shrugged. ‘To find them will take too long, the Bugis’ pinisi will sail in two days.’

  ‘I will give them, the captain, the remainder,’ Anna said quietly.

  ‘No! No, it is too much! More than a cook will earn in ten years!’ Ratih protested.

  ‘He saved your life!’ Anna reminded her, then smiled. ‘That is enough, Ratih. What’s more, as long as he is here all our lives are in danger. You and Budi and the lieutenant,’ she grimaced, ‘as well as my father and me. We will all be killed.’

  Ratih’s eyes brimmed. ‘Thank you, Anna, we will not forget,’ she said quietly.

  The following morning Til arrived with a cheap sarong and a tattered black cotton shirt, the uniform of a Bugis sailor. ‘He cannot wear shoes or sandals, this Bugis they do not wear, they must climb up many ropes,’ he explained needlessly.

  An hour after sundown at eight o’clock that night, two of the Bugis pirates appeared with Til, and Lo Wok was taken in tow. Any acute observer would almost immediately have noticed the ‘ouch and ooh’ manner in which the Chinaman hobbled towards the river port, the soft soles of his bare feet unable to bear the uneven and rocky surface of the road. Watching him depart, Anna asked why the Bugis wouldn’t simply throw Lo Wok overboard as soon as they were out to sea since they now had the money.