WOMEN OF THE BLUE LAKEBy No. 399

An intere8ting hl8ight into the p8ychology of a group of im'pri8­Oiled luomcn and. in thcir admirable restraint cUld 7Ilatter-of·fachw88. afine czample of hmncm ability to ri8e above mi8ery and de8pair. are thesepagc8 from the dia?lI written by an inmate of a W0?1t6n'8 internment camp,in Java. Hlcma,n natllre. it Beems. ·i8 better fitted to withstand scriowJ t'rage­dic8 than petty a7lnoyance8 and incompetence which are likely to cal.lforth anger and bitterne8s, whereas great 1088es often !u"ni8h us withthe inne'r 8trength 1IeCe88arl/ to overcome thf"m. And if eve"ythi'lu fuilst.Jlere i8 alwuUB a "blue lake" to which to tll/'n for ,olace from the pettinessof mall.-K.M.

ltfa,y 13, 1940, Whit MondaySome~vhere in JavaEndless waiting in continuous fear.

What is to happen to us all:> We don'tknow. We don't know anything at all.We are worn out from the long, hottrain trip in the prison car. No oneknew where we were being taken bythe stony-faced police officers. Thewindows were kept closed the wholeway. After the train journey we wenton in old motor vans, rattling andshaking further and further into thecountry, far away, where there wereno more villages and no more people.A terrific thunderstorm broke. Thenevening came quickly, with its mist andand croaking frogs. When at last wewere allowed to get out it was night.We saw soldiers with bayonets. and awall; then a huge gate, which openedto let us in; then barbed wirf!. t,riple­and finally a large, old building fromwhich a nim light shone across to us.That was all.

Now we are sitting on boxes andrough benches, hundreds of womenand children, waiting for our luggageand persons to be searched. Some ofthe children are on the point of collapsefrom fatigue, leaning against theil'mothers, their eyes closed. Some havesimply lain down on the dirty coldstone floor. Others are crying andasking for something to drink. I,too, am parched with thil~t. One isno longer conscious of hunger. Myhead is buzzing with a burning headache.

Some have been called to be searched.We others are waiting, in an almostunnatural silence, for the inspection.Suddenly-a piercing cry. We start.It is followed by whimpering, and acommanding voice. Then everything isquiet again. When the first womencome back, they show their hands in amute gesture. Now their last piece ofjewelry, which at first they had beenallowed to keep, has been taken fromthem-their wedding rings. In a mi­nute it will be my turn.

May 1.4, Ea1·Zy M01-ningIt was a long time before we were

taken into the dal·k rooms of the oldhouse last night. Rough wooden bunkswith dark, bulky straW-filled sacks stoodclose together, and a smell of decaycame to us from the mildewy walls.'RAt.s w~r(l fl3ring nround the Dingle dustyelectric light bulb, and rats, disturbedin their peace, ~queak~u ill prutest.At first we stared dumfounded at ournew surroundings, but then pulled our­selves together, first those with children,who saw to it that they had somewhereto lie down. Mrs. L. discovered a largetin urn with lukewarm drinking water,which we all made for to quench ourburning thirst. Some wanted to wash,but fled in horror from the revoltinglavatory. Our luggage-one suitcaseapiece-was not handed out thatevening so that we had to spend thisnight, too, in .the same clothes whichwe had not taken off for three days.

134 'l'HE XXth CENTURY

Most of the children were already in thedeep sleep of exhaustion, while we womenwere still staring apprehensively andunbelievingly at our new surroundings,trying to be calm and to grasp thefact that we had to face a differentlife. What will this new life be like?Tonight we have realized that we hadbeen the happiest of people before allthis. Our husbands, brothers, sons wereled away before our eyes as prisoners,our homes and belongings have beentaken from us. Only the youngerchildren were left with us, andfor their sakes we must try withall our might to master this new life.From the corner, where Mrs. W. satcrouching, came a loud sobbing. Severalof the women were crying, but, thankGod, there were others who had thestrength to comfort them and givethem courage.

This was the moment at which acertain numbness in me, too, gave way.I looked out of tbe window. The nightwas quite dark; only now and againthe country was lit up by short sum­mer lightning, and then I thought Icould see a large sheet of water, some­thing like a lake. I sat down withthe others near the window. It wasstill hot and stifling in the house andnone of us grownups could think ofsleeping.

The doors of the room had mean­while been closed, we had heard therusty keys turn twice, and the last littlelight had been extinguished. We hard­ly felt tired, nor did we bother aboutthe many mosquitoes that were bitingus. We just turned our thoughts overand over in our minds, pondering andtrying to muster our courage, foreverything seemed so desperate. Noone spoke a word. Everyone wasoccupied with herself and her ownthoughts. So the night passed.

Again and again our burning eyeshad tried to pierce the darkness ofthe night, till the first dawn of thenew day broke. True enough, therelay before us a large, spreading lake,and, as the day grew lighter, its waterturned bluer and bluer. When the sun

rose, we all seemed to feel a deepquietness flowing up to us from thedimly shimmering, clear water. Itwas as if a breath of the eternalwere drifting across to us. The mate­rial things in life became small andinsignificant, went under in this greatexpanse of water. I had to think ofGoethe's words, praising water as thesymbol of the human soul: "It comesdown from heaven, it rises up toheaven, and down again to earth itmust come, changing eternally."

That was how the first day of ournew life dawned. We looked at eachother calmly, and I believe that weall felt the same determination to beartogether the future and all the hard­ships it might bring.

Same EveningThat is as far as I got this morning

when we were all startled by a loudand vigorous bugle call, the militaryreveille. A few minutes later one ofour women guards appeared and calledout: If Aantreden (fall in)!" Wehad to march in pairs to the diningroom, past the women guards in theiruniforms, who then posted themselvesin the corners of the dining room inorder to keep us constantly underobservation. We marched up to rowsof long wooden tables and bench­es. On the tables there were tinplates and mugs. A whistle wasblown twice. The first time meant,'·sit down," the second was the signalto eat.

This morning duties were distributed.Even old women, including our oldestwith her 83 years, were given workto do. Camp regulations were readout; everything was very strict, andthere was a lot to be learnt. Indeed,never having done work of that kindin the tropics, we have first to learn,not only to sweep the rough stonefloors clean, but to wipe them severaltimes with a wet mop, to carrythe heavy straw sacks into the sunevery day, to fetch the large urnsof drinking water punctually, etc.Strictest obedience is taken for granted.

WOMEN OF THE BLUE LAKE 135

The camp regulations see to itthat the days will pass in constantwork, mostly of a physical nature, asort of "work therapy." We submitted.There is enough discipline among us,and we want the days to pass withoutfriction.

We know now what our camp iscalled: Banjoe bi"oe, Malayan for"Blue Lake."

May 2~

Days of getting accustomed to con­ditions, of adjustment, difficult days ofself-control have passed meanwhile.The children are still a problem. Thereare a few teachers here, but there isas yet no building or schoolroomavailable. We are not even allowedto speak our own language. That isliable to heavy punishment, such assolitary confinement or being put onrice and water. But during the siesta,when all doors around us have shut,we give the children lessons, afterhaving built desks and chairs for themout of empty suitcases. We have quitegot used to the bugle which is forever summoning us, even to every meal.

If sometimes the burden placed uponus sooma to grow too heavy, or iC QUI'

good spirits are depressed by pettynnnoyance::l cauM~d oy some of theguards, we only have to look up tothe blue s)ty and th~ ::lun and Lo ourbeloved lake, from whose smoothmirror not only coolness is wafted tous but also the breath of a pure,c1PJlr. true \VorIn. It givos us backour peace and composure.

Ma,y 27

Every day we are getting to bemore like a big family. By no meansdo we love the old gray house, but allthe more every little piece of groundoutside, be it ever so small, on whichwe are allowed to walk. We canobserve, better than through thebarred windows of the building, thelake on one side, on the other the moun­tains, trees, and rice and tapiocafields.

We are allowed to walk on a narrowstrip of ground around the house.Every free moment is used to walk thelength of this bumpy path at least once,and we are usually able to leave ourgloomy thoughts behind us.

Today the first punishment has beenmeted out-solitary confinement. Somevisiting Dutch friends had shown oneof our women her child through thebarbed wire. It had been ill inhospitfll the day we were interned, andshe had not seen it since. Naturallyshe wanted to get nearer to her child,wanted to hold it in her arms. But shewas denied this. She had a completenervous breakdown, and began toscream. Immediate solitary confinementwas the reply of the camp authorities.

June 10

We are getting more and more usedto things, and the unaccustomed workgoes faster and faster. Washing laundry.at the big well in the mornings is quitegay. It is the time when the guardsare having their breakfast, and we havea little more freedom then. Althoughthe singing of German songs is strictlyforbidden, we continue to risk it and weare doubl)' cheered for the whole day.

June 17

The first pMt cardg from ourimprisoned husbands have arrived.Tremendous excitement! We ha.n sep-nthe Directress going around with a fatbundle of cards before the midday meal:during the meal our excitement rose tosuch a pitch that no one even thoughtof eating. At last, the distribution!I received a card too, and like all theothers it contained only good news. Insome of the cards, it is true, only theheading and signature could be read,everything else had been blacked out.The censorship was very strict. Butwe all were happy and grateful, andin spite of the distance we felt morethan ever united with our husbands.

The happiness of us married womenspread also to the few unmarried ones,and when at sunset, which was today

136 THE XXth CENTURY

an opalescent mass of purple, red, andgold, we looked across to our lake, ithad, as if in celebration, put on a redand golden holiday gown that was sofabulously beautiful that we shall neverforget it.

June 29

My heart is still pounding. I justhappened to be present when two ofour women were officially notified ofthe sale of their confiscated property,which they have now lost once and forall. One of the women took it bravelyand with' composure, but the other onebegan to sob, softly at first, then moreand more uncontrollably, till in the endshe threw herself on her straw sackand screamed and screamed, unable tostop. Mrs. M., who knows somethingabout medicine and acts as our doctor,was called. She gave her a "nervetonic," and after a full hour at lastthe screaming stopped.

July 5

Every day some of us receive officialnotification about the irretrievable saleof our property. It will come for allof us one day; I am waiting for thisnotice too. In my heart I have alreadysettled the matter, I am already beyondthese things, like most of the otherwomen.

July 13This has been a special day. It was

the birthday of Mrs. S. of our ward.Very early in the morning, before thebugle call and the appearance of ourguards, the older boys came from theboys' barracks and produced a so-called"festival rocket" by comically imitatingin chorus the hiss and explosion of arocket. Then all the women and chil­dren came to offer their congl'atulatiolls.Everybody brought a little present,even if it was only a homemade or­nament consIsting of a colored crochetcord with a pierce(l and polished one­cent coin as a pendant, which one ofthe child'ren had secretly managed to

keep in a little bag. In the eveningwe all gathered again in the newly­opened canteen and drank the healthof Mrs. S. in a glass of lemonade. Wehave now become quite used to speakingDutch all the time, and in spite of therestrictions here and there the day hasbeen a very happy one for us, becauseit brought out so strongly the commu­nity spirit amongst us. It has givenus renewed strength and has broughtus all closer together.

Before going to bed we felt, as we doalmost every evening, the desire to getclose to our lake. Whether it reflectsthe silver moon and the stars in theevening or the sun and the blue skyduring the day, it always has the samepower to quiet our hearts, to make usfeel freer and lighter.

July 20

More and more cases of illness. Theheat and the long spell of dryness bringthis with them every year. At themoment dysentery and malaria arepredominant. We tremble for manywho are seriollsly ill. Mrs. lVI. goesuntiringly from room to room todistribute properly the medicine whichis given to her so sparingly. When acall was made today for volunteers tonurse the sick, twice as many appliedas were needed.

August 10

We have been here three months,living our strange life far from thegreat events in the world, of whichwe know nothing. What is happeningin the war 011 the Western Front 'fThe camp authorities are as strict asthey were on the first day, and no news­papers are allowed. But rumors arebeginning to creep in, and one of thesehas already become a firm belief. It isthat we are to be freed on August15. No one knows where the rumororiginated, but all are preparing fortheir liberation. A great "festivalevening" is being arranged which issupposed to be a sort of farewell.Will our hopes be fulfilled '?

WOMEN OF THE BLUE LAKE 137

August 15, 7 p.m.

It has been a festive day. Our be­loved lake was even bluer than usualand saluted us in shining sunlight. No·announcement was made by the authori­ties during the midday meal, but theconfident mood has remained. The"festival program" has been submittedto the camp authorities, both the Coloneland the Directress, for approval andpermission to perform. Most of it wasin Dutch, of course, but we had writtenthe play and the "canon" in German.With much shaking of heads andmuttered remarks like "crazy" and"cracked," the program was okayed.And so it took place. The children hadrehearsed a wonderful afternoon showwith dances, games, and singing. Thenthe grownups performed the play theyhad written themselves, containing alittle parody of our life in camp, andafter that we all sang the farewellcanon with its closing line: "Farewell,Blue Lake; farewell."

August 1aWeare still here.

August 20

still nothing has happened. Spiritsare rather low, Mail from our husbandsis always cheerful, always optimistic.But why is nothing being done aboutus? Why doesn't the big gate open tolet us free? No, nothing is done, sim­ply nothing,

At sunset I took our usual walkaround the building with the children,and when the sun was gone we lookedin the sky for our big star and ourlittle one, which are not far from eachother and about whom the childrenhave invented a long and beautiful story,The big star is the father and thelittle star is the mother, and there area lot of star-children around them.If the star-children have been verygood, the father star and the motherstar get a little closer to each otherevery day, and the children also mov.ea little closer, and then the star familywill soon all be together again. But thatis only a fairy tale invented by children.

[In January 1942 the app'Poach ofthe Japanese forces caused the Dutchauth01'ities to 1'emove the inte1'nmentcamp for Ge1'man men f1'om Sumat1'CI.to India.-The Edit01']

August 25

Today the gray house, that is sO'often loud and gay with the voices ofchildren and their laughter, is againstrangely silent on the shore of thedark blue lake. There is an atmos­phere of expectation, of mystery. Thetime has come for a child to be born,All the women are sitting around,quietly sharing the feelings of themother who writhes in pain, cared forin a bare room by a doctor and amidwife from their own group. Allare waiting tensely for the first cryof the child, all seem to be holdingtheir breath.

Same Evening

Thank God, it is OVer now. A healthygirl has been born, and everybody ishappy again. Congratulations withhomemade flowers and other presentsare pouring into the room of the mother,who, although pale, looks happily againand again at her child.

October 15We have all gradually got used to

the fact that after all the gates willnot be opened so soon, and everyoneof us works off and conquers thisgreat disappointment in her own man­ner. Those are best off who havetheir steady daily work, or who aremothers with their own children tokeep them occupied. 'l'hose who canpaint or draw are producing the love­liest works of art, and many put downin verse or in prose the thoughts pas­sing through their minds. Others whohave a gift for storytelling entertaintheir roommates in the evening withtheir interesting travel adventures.Some who can sing, very softly intonesome of the old home songs everyevening, which are then hummed by all.And the lake sparkles across to themin quiet understanding.

138 THE XXth CENTURY

December 31

It is five to twelve, five minutesbefore the New Year begins. Adventand Christmas are behind us, thankGod. They have been sad days. Ifound it impossible to write downanything. We had no Christmas. Al­though the Directress has always triedto behave absolutely correctly towardus, I shall never be able to forget that onChristmas Eve she went from room toroom to see that there was no forbid­den little candle burning and thatno 'Wanklanken (dissonances) shouldmeet her ear. Our Christmas carolswere forbidden on pain of specialpunishment. It was raining outsideand everything was dull and gray andquiet, just as it is now. Our lake, too,is sad with us, and the low mist lyingon it can tell us nothing about nextyear, about the future. Almost all thewomen have gone to bed and havedrawn their mosquito nets close aroundtheir straw sacks, to be alone, quitealone. Alone with their thoughts abouttheir husbands, their homes, theirfuture. I can hear a clock striking twelvesomewhere-the New Year has begun.

Ma1'ch 23

Many weeks have passed again. Manythings have happened. Six more healthy

children have been born, and manya friend has been very ill. But on the

. whole providence has been kind-therehas been no death.

There is a new rumor that the gateswill open.

March 25The gates have opened. Soon, perhaps

next month, we shall be going north ona Japanese steamer, to Shanghai orKobe, and then on to our homes inGermany. Some of us have even had ourwedding rings returned. In brilliantsunshine we blissfully walked in a longprocession, slowly, step by step towardfreedom, leaving behind us the graybuilding, seeing only the Blue Lake, look­ing at it again and again in parting, fullof gratitude. On its shores we havelived through much that was new andstrange. I believe, however, that themost important thing is that the small,everyday things no longer mean any­thing to us and that we have moveda little closer to greater things, to theeternal values.

And like a flower of farewell I carryalong the simple words spoken to uswomen as we were leaving by one of theguards: "Through you we have learntin these months that these words canbecome true: 'Love your enemies.' "

AFTER THE RAIN

By Wei Li Bo

No sound is heard

But drops falling

From leaf to leaf.

That speck of light

Upon the shrub?

A butterfly.