THE MEMOIRS OF MUSTAPHA HUSSAIN - Malaysia Today

Arrested Again 319
The white man in a Dutch military captain’s outfit had fair skin, but
it was not reddish like the complexion of many Englishmen I knew. He
had an accent, but it was almost untraceable. As he unfolded a memo
retrieved from his pocket, I stole a glance at its letterhead. From there, I
guessed that the captain was from the Netherlands Indies Civilian Administration
(NICA), the Dutch government in colonial Indonesia. The
captain made a generous offer, “You are an educated Malay. It is not
befitting for you and your family to live in this god-forsaken place,”
pointing to my wife bent over a firewood stove. “I have been instructed
to persuade you to work for us… NICA Intelligence. Your service would
be most helpful in eradicating anti-Dutch elements in Malaya.”
If I agreed, he was willing to pay me a $1,000 monthly salary, in
addition to providing a house in town, and food supply thrown in. He
assured me, “It is not a difficult task at all. For example, at this very
moment, the NICA would like to keep track of Persatuan Indonesia
Merdeka (the Independent Indonesia Association).” “There are some
people in Taiping who are interested in Indonesia’s political struggle. We
need to know about them. For example, we want more information on
Raja Din, now working at the Food Control Office. That is all for the
moment!” I declined his offer outright without giving any reason. Noticing
my twisted facial expression, the Malay boy (who was later to become a
village headman) began to get the jitters, claiming he had nothing to do
with the offer and that he was only there to show the white officer my
hut. He left immediately, as he knew of my temperament.
The English-speaking Dutch officer was not prepared to leave empty
handed. He reiterated his offer. This time, I raised my voice, “What? You
are asking me to stab the Indonesians in the back?” He replied, as if
surprised, “What is wrong with that?” I glared at him and shouted, “What
is wrong? If someone asked you to work with the Nazis while they
occupied Holland, would you?” He immediately responded, “Of course
not!” I added just as quickly, “As it is with me!” Still not ready to give
up, he said, “But you have nothing to do with the Indonesian people!”
With hands clenched, and glancing meaningfully at my long machete
resting against a wall near us, I replied, “Nothing to do with them? They
are my cousins!” The Dutch Officer left in a real hurry. There I was,
trying to lead a normal life, but there were obviously parties keen to use
me to destroy my own people.
Arrested and Paraded Again
Days turned to weeks. I continued to till my farm, convinced that the
Malay proverb; “be good to the soil, and it will reward you” could not