Where Home Becomes Java, continued

Echoes Without End

Resident’s Office, Surabaya, 1835

The office is busy with Dutch officials, Javanese messengers, Chinese merchants, and local regents or their representatives making petitions or waiting for permits, licenses, or other paperwork that needs processing and dispensation. Willem, as administrative officer, is handling the shipping inventories.

A new assistant clerk has been assigned to Willem. He is reviewing the shipping inventory so that Willem can prepare the permit. Pieter waits at the door of Willem’s office until he is noticed.

“Yes?” Willem says.

“I have the inventory for you,” Pieter says.

Willem gestures with his hand as an indication for Pieter to come in. The Indo-European clerk hands over the papers. Willem reviews the work, done with meticulous handwriting but organized incorrectly.

The official list is arranged under headings: vessel name, nationality, tonnage, cargo, and duties owed. Pieter’s version contains all the information, but in a different order.

Willem looks at the man of his own age with slumped shoulders and a weary expression. His frustration gives way to condescension. He calls Pieter to come closer.

As he firmly crosses out columns and puts in the correct titles, he says, “We adhere to the European method of organizing shipping lists and categories so that it follows a clear and logical system. The list must allow a man in Batavia who has never seen these ships to understand the harbor from these records.”

Willem continues explaining in more detail, tapping regulations with his finger while citing them. When he is done, he stacks the papers and returns them to Pieter to do over.

As he sits back at his desk, Pieter says to another Indo-European clerk, “The totok insists on the European way again.”

Later in the day, a local official arrives to pick up a permit. After the transaction is concluded, the man leaves a basket of mangosteens.

At the end of the day, Willem sees the basket.

“Where did that come from?” he asks Pieter.

“It’s a gift from the district official.”

Willem stiffens and says, “We cannot accept that. We must remain impartial. This can lead to corruption.” As he speaks his voice becomes more forceful.

“I believe the official meant to show respect. He is honoring the relationship,” Pieter responds quietly.

Willem looks at the basket.

The clerk says nothing more.

Outside, a messenger carries the gift back across the courtyard.

Willem returns to his papers, though with slightly less certainty than before.

In the Gallerij, 1855

As the heat eases into the late afternoon shadows, the von Franquemont family relax in the gallerij. Willem’s daughter Lotta is playing the fortepiano. Adri, his wife, is flipping through a women’s magazine. Willem, in a sarong and loose jacket, is studying his coin collection.

Mbok Sari brings a tray with tea and coffee. Another servant cuts mango and durian.

Willem flips through the book holding VOC, British, Dutch and German coins, once in a while taking one out to polish.

Mbok Sari, the elder servant who has worked for Willem since before his marriage, notices Willem squinting. She leaves and returns with his spectacles.

When Lotta finishes her piece, she joins her father. Pointing at a small gold coin with a crown on it, Lotta asks, “Where is this one from?”

“Ah, this one is from the time of the Duke of Württemberg. He was your great-grandfather”

Lotta sits cross legged on the floor ready for the story she knows is coming.

“He lived in a grand palace with hectares of ground. But different than here. Not with so many trees close together, but open rolling green hills dotted with white sheep. First the leaves turn golden and red and then fall off the trees. In winter everything turns white. In spring small blue flowers grow among the grass,” he says as he reaches for a piece of durian.

“His lady, my grandmother, played fortepiano, like you, and had the voice of a nightingale. My father and your uncles came here on big ships with three masts. It took half a year to get here.” He pauses. A screech of a monkey can be heard from the garden.

Adri smiles at Willem. She has heard the story many times before.

Mbok Sari catches Adri’s glance and hides a smile behind her hand. She has heard it before too.

Nobody interrupts.

©2026 Astrd Berg

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