I thought out a solution of my problem. I must take this ‘army5 to the Transvaal and see them safely deposited in jail like the Phoenix party. The army should be divided into small batches, each of which should cross the border separately. But I dropped this last idea as soon as it was formed as it would have taken too long a time in its execution, and the successive imprisonment of small batches would not produce the normal effect of a mass movement.
The strength of the ‘army’ was about five thousand. I had not the money to pay the railway fare for such a large number of persons, and therefore they could not all be taken by rail. And if they were taken by rail, I would be without the means of putting their morale to the test. The Transvaal border is 36 miles from Newcastle. The border villages of Natal and the Transvaal are Charlestown and Volksrust respectively. I finally decided to march on foot. I consulted the labourers who had their wives and children with them and some of whom therefore hesitated to agree to my proposal. I had no alternative except to harden my heart, and declared that those who wished were free to return to the mines. But none of them would avail themselves of this liberty. We decided that those who were disabled in their limbs should be sent by rail, and all able-bodied persons announced their readiness to go to Charlestown on foot. The march was to be accom¬ plished in two days. In the end every one was glad that the move was made. The labourers realized that it would be some relief to poor Lazarus and his family. The Euro¬ peans in Newcastle anticipated an outbreak of plague, and were anxious to take all manner of steps in order to pre¬ vent it. By making a move we restored to them their peace of mind and also saved ourselves from the irksome mea¬ sures to which they would have subjected us.
While preparations for the march were on foot, I received an invitation to meet the coal-owners and I went to Durban. This conference and the events subsequent thereto will be considered in the next chapter.
CHAPTER XLII THE CONFERENCE AND AFTER At their invitation I saw the mine-owners in Durban. I observed that they were somewhat impressed by the strike, but I did not expect anything big to come out of the conference. The humility of a Satyagrahi however knows no bounds. He does not let slip a single opportunity for settlement, and he does not mind if any one therefore looks upon him as timid. The man who has faith in him and the strength which flows from faith, does not care if he is looked down upon by others. He relies solely upon his internal strength. He is therefore courteous to all, and thus cultivates and enlists world opinion in favour of his own cause.
I therefore welcomed the coal-owners5 invitation and when I met them, I saw that the atmosphere was sur¬ charged with the heat and passion of the moment. Instead of hearing me explain the situation, their representative proceeded to cross-examine me. I gave him suitable an¬ swers.
Tt is in your hands to bring the strike to an end,1 I said.
‘We are not officials,5 was the reply.
‘You can do a deal though you are not officials,5 I said. ‘You can fight the labourers5 battle for them. If you ask the Government to take off the £ 3 tax, I do not think they will refuse to repeal it. You can also educate Euro¬ pean opinion on the question.5 ‘But what has the £ 3 tax to do with the strike? If the labourers have any grievance against the coal-owners, you approach them for redress in due form.5 ‘I do not see that the labourers have any other wea¬ pon except a strike in their hands. The £ 3 tax too has been imposed in the interest of the mine-owners who want the labourers to work for them but do not wish that they should work as free men. If therefore the labourers strike work in order to secure a repeal of the £ 3 tax, I do not SATYAGRAHA IN SOUTH AFRICA see that it involves any impropriety or injustice to the mine-owners.’
‘You will not then advise the labourers to return to work?’
‘Do you know what will be the consequences?’
‘I know, I have a full sense of my responsibility.’
‘Yes, indeed. You have nothing to lose. But will you compensate the misguided labourers for the damage you will cause them?’
‘The labourers have gone on strike after due deli¬ beration, and with a full consciousness of the losses which would accrue to them. I cannot conceive a greater loss to a man than the loss of his self-respect, and it is a matter of deep satisfaction to me that the labourers have real¬ ized this fundamental principle.’
And so on. I cannot now remember the whole of the conversation. I have put down in brief the points which I do remember. I saw that the mine-owners understood the weakness of their case, for they had already put them¬ selves in communication with the Government.
During my journey to Durban and back I saw that the strike and the peaceful behaviour of the strikers had produced an excellent impression upon the railway guards and others. I travelled in third class as usual, but even there the guard and other officers would surround me, make dilignt inquiries and wish me success. They would provide me with various minor facilities. I scrupulously maintained the spotless purity of my relations with them. I did not hold out any inducement to them for a single amenity. I was delighted if they were courteous of their own free will, but no attempt was made to purchase court¬ esy. These officers were astonished to find that poor, illi¬ terate and ignorant labourers made such a splendid dis¬ play of firmness. Firmness and courage are qualities which are bound to leave their impress even upon the adversary.
I returned to Newcastle. Labourers were still pouring in from all directions. I clearly explained the whole situa¬ tion to the ‘army.’ I said they were still free to return to work if they wished. I told them about the threats held THE CONFERENCE AND AFTER out by the coal-owners, and pictured before them the risks of the future. I pointed out that no one could tell them when the struggle would end. I described to the men the hardships of jail, and yet they would not flinch. They fearlessly replied, that they would never be down-hearted so long as I was fighting by their side, and they asked me not to be anxious about them as they were inured to hardships.
It was now only left for us to march. The labourers were informed one evening that they were to commence the march early next morning (October 28, 1913), and the rules to be observed on the march were read to them. It was no joke to control a multitude of five or six thou¬ sand men. I had no idea of the exact number, nor did I know their names or places of residence. I was merely content with as many of them as chose to remain. I could not afford to give anything on the road beyond a daily ration of one pound and a half of bread and an ounce of sugar to each ‘soldier.5 I planned to get something more from the Indian traders on the way. But if I failed they must rest content with bread and sugar. My experience of the Boer War and the Zulu ‘rebellion5 stood me in good stead on the present occasion. None of the ‘invaders5 was to keep with him any more clothes than necessary. None was to touch any one’s property on the way. They were to bear it patiently if any official or non-official Euro¬ pean met them and abused or even flogged them. They were to allow themselves to be arrested if the police offered to arrest them. The march must continue even if I was arrested. All these points were explained to the men and I also announced the names of those who should succes¬ sively lead the ‘army5 in my place.
The men understood the instructions issued to them, and our caravan safely reached Charlestown where the traders rendered us great help. They gave us the use of their houses, and permitted us to make our cooking ar¬ rangements on the grounds of the mosque. The ration supplied on the march would be exhausted when camp was reached and therefore we were in need of cooking pots, which were cheerfully supplied by the traders. We SATYAGRAHA IN SOUTH AFRICA had with us a plentiful store of rice etc. to which also the traders contributed their share.
Charlestown was a small village with a population of hardly 1,000 souls, and could never accommodate the several thousands of pilgrims. Only women and children were lodged in houses. All the rest camped in the open.
There are many sweet and some bitter reminiscences of our stay in Charlestown. The pleasant memories are connected with the sanitary department and the District Health Officer, Dr Briscoe, who was rather alarmed at the phenomenal increase in the population, but who, instead of adopting any stringent measures, met me, made some suggestions and offered to help me. Europeans are careful and we are careless about three things, the purity of the water supply, and keeping roads and sanitary convenien¬ ces clean. Dr Briscoe asked me to see that no water was thrown on the roads and to prevent our men from dirtying the place or throwing away refuse promiscuously. He further suggested that the men should be confined to the area he assigned to us and that I should hold myself res¬ ponsible for keeping that area clean. I thankfully accept¬ ed his suggestions and was then at perfect ease.
It was very difficult to have our people observe these rules. But the pilgrims and co-workers lightened my task. It has been my constant experience that much can be done if the servant actually serves and does not dictate to the people. If the servant puts in body-labour himself, others will follow in his wake. And such was my experience on the present occasion. My co-workers and I never hesitated to do sweeping, scavenging and similar work, with the result that others also took it up enthusiastically. In the absence of such sensible procedure it is no good issuing orders to others. All would assume leadership and dictate to others and there would be nothing done in the end. But where the leader himself becomes a servant, there are no rival claimants for leadership.
Of co-workers Kallenbach was already in Charlestown. And so was Miss Schlesin, whose industry, accuracy and honesty were beyond all praise. Of the Indians I now remember the late Shri P. K. Naidoo and Shri Albert THE CONFERENCE AND AFTER 269 Christopher. There were others besides who worked hard and rendered valuable help.
The ration consisted of rice and dal. We had a large stock of vegetable, which could not be cooked separately for want of time and cooking pots and was therefore mix¬ ed with dal. The kitchen was active all the twenty-four hours, as hungry men would arrive at any time of the day or night. No labourers were to stop at Newcastle. All knew what way to go and therefore they would make for Charles¬ town directly they left the mines.
As I think of the patience and endurance of the men, I am overpowered by a sense of the greatness of God. I was the leader among the cooks. Sometimes there was too much water in the dal, at other times it was insufficiently cooked. The vegetable and even the rice was sometimes ill-cooked. I have not seen many people in the world who would cheerfully gulp down such food. On the other hand, I have observed in the South African jails that even those who pass as well-educated men lose their temper if they are given food somewhat less than sufficient or ill-cooked, or even if they get it a little late.
Serving the food was if possible even more difficult than cooking it, and was in my sole charge. I shouldered the responsibility for the food being well or ill-cooked. Even so it rested with me to satisfy all present by cutting down the individual ration when there was too little food and more than the expected number of diners. I can never forget the angry look which the sisters gave me for a mom¬ ent when I gave them too little food and which was at once transformed into a smile as they understood the thank¬ lessness of my self-chosen task. T am helpless,5 I would say. ‘The quantity cooked is small, and as I have to feed many, I must divide it equally between them.5 Upon this they would grasp the situation and go away smiling, saying that they were content.
Thus far I have dealt with the pleasant memories. As for the unpleasant, I found that when the men had a little leisure, they occupied it with internal squabbles. What was worse, there were cases of adultery. There was terrible overcrowding and men and women had to be kept SATYAGRAHA IN SOUTH AFRICA together. Animal passion knows no shame. As soon as the cases occurred, I arrived on the scene. The guilty part¬ ies were abashed and they were segregated. But who can say how many such cases occurred which never came to my knowledge? It is no use dwelling any further upon this topic, which I have brought in in order to show that every¬ thing was not in perfect order and that even when some one did go wrong there was no exhibition of insolence. On many similar occasions I have seen how well-behaved people become in a good atmosphere even when they are originally semi-barbarous and not over-observant of the dictates of morality, and it is more essential and profit¬ able to realize this truth.
CHAPTER XLIII GROSSING THE BORDER We have now arrived at the beginning of November 1913. But before we proceed, it will be well to take note of two events. Bai Fatma Mehtab of Durban could no longer be at peace when the Tamilian sisters received sen¬ tences of imprisonment in Newcastle. She therefore left for Volksrust to court arrest along with her mother Hanifa- bai and seven years old son. Mother and daughter were arrested but the Government declined to arrest the boy. Fatma Bai was called upon to give her finger impressions at the charge office but she fearlessly refused to submit to the indignity. Eventually she and her mother were sent to prison for three months (October 13, 1913).
The labourers’ strike was in full swing at this time. Men as well as women were on the move between the mining district and Charlestown. Of these, there were two women with their little ones one of whom died of exposure on the march. The other fell from the arms of its mother while she was crossing a spruit and was drowned. But the brave mothers refused to be dejected and continued their march. One of them said, ‘We must not pine for the dead who will not come back to us for all our sorrow. It is the living for whom we must work.’ I have often among the CROSSING THE BORDER 271 poor come across such instances of quiet heroism, sterling faith and saving knowledge.
The men and women in Charlestown held to their difficult post of duty in such a stoical spirit. For it was no mission of peace that took us to that border village. If any one wanted peace, he had to search for it within. Outwardly the words cthere is no peace here’ were placard¬ ed everywhere, as it were. But it is in the midst of such storm that a devotee like Mirabai takes the cup of poison to her lips with cheerful equanimity, that Socrates quietly embraces death in his dark and solitary cell and initiates his friends and us into the mysterious doctrine that he who seeks peace must look for it within himself.
With such ineffable peace brooding over them the Satyagrahis were living in their camp, careless of what the morrow would bring.
I wrote to the Government, that we did not propose to enter the Transvaal with a view to domicile, but as an effective protest against the minister’s breach of pledge and as a pure demonstration of our distress at the loss of our self-respect. Government would be relieving us of all anxiety if they were good enough to arrest us where we then were, that is in Charlestown. But if they did not arrest us, and if any of us surreptitiously entered the Transvaal, the responsibility would not be ours. There was no secrecy about our movement. None of us had a personal axe to grind. We would not like it if any of us secretly entered the Transvaal. But we could not hold ourselves responsible for the acts of any as we had to deal with thousands of unknown men and as we could not command any other sanction but that of love. Finally I assured the Government that if they repealed the £ 3 tax, the strike would be called off and the indentured labourers would return to work, as we would not ask them to join the general struggle directed against the rest of our grieva¬ nces.
The position therefore was quite uncertain, and there was no knowing when the Government would arrest us. But at a crisis like this we could not await the reply of the Government for a number of days, but only for one SATYAGRAHA IN SOUTH AFRICA or two returns of the post. We therefore decided to leave Charlestown and enter the Transvaal at once if the Govern¬ ment did not put us under arrest. If we were not arrested on the way, the ‘army of peace’ was to march twenty to twenty-four miles a day for eight days together, with a view to reach Tolstoy Farm, and to stop there till the strug¬ gle was over and in the meanwhile to maintain them¬ selves by working the Farm. Mr Kallenbach had made all the necessary arrangements. The idea was to construct mud huts with the help of the pilgrims themselves. So long as the huts were under construction, the old and the infirm should be accommodated in small tents, the able-bodied camping in the open. The only difficulty was, that the rains were now about to set in, and every one must have a shelter over his head while it rained. But Mr Kallen¬ bach was courageously confident of solving it somehow or other.
We also made other preparations for the march. The good Dr Briscoe improvised a small medical chest for us, and gave us some instruments which even a layman like myself could handle. The chest was to be carried by hand as there was to be no conveyance with the pilgrims. We therefore carried with us the least possible quantity of medicines, which would not enable us to treat even a hundred persons at the same time. But that did not matter as we proposed to encamp every day near some village, where we hoped to get the drugs of which we ran short, and as we were not taking with us any of the patients or disabled persons whom we had arranged to leave in the villages en route.
Bread and sugar constituted our sole ration, but how was a supply of bread to be ensured on the eight days’ march? The bread must be distributed to the pilgrims every day and we could not hold any of it in stock. The only solution of this problem was, that some one should supply us with bread at each stage. But who would be our provider? There were no Indian bakers at all. Again there could not be found a baker in each of the villages, which usually depended upon the cities for their supply of bread. The bread therefore must be supplied by some CROSSING THE BORDER CROSSING THE BORDER baker and sent by rail to the appointed station. Volksrust was about double the size of Charlestown, and a large European bakery there willingly contracted to supply bread at each place. The baker did not take advantage of our awkward plight to charge us higher than the market rates and supplied bread made of excellent flour. He sent it in time by rail, and the railway officials, also Europeans, not only honestly delivered it to us, but they took good care of it in transit and gave us some special facilities. They knew that we harboured no enmity in our hearts, intended no harm to any living soul and sought redress only through self-suffering. The atmosphere around us was thus purified and continued to be pure. The feeling of love which is dormant though present in all mankind was roused into activity. Every one realized that we are all brothers whether we are ourselves Christians, Jews, Hindus, Musalmans or anything else.
When all the preparations for the march were comp¬ leted, I made one more effort to achieve a settlement. I had already sent letters and telegrams. I now decided to ’phone even at the risk of my overtures being answered by an insult. From Charlestown I ’phoned to General Smuts in Pretoria. I called his secretary and said: ‘Tell General Smuts that I am fully prepared for the march. The Euro¬ peans in Volksrust are excited and perhaps likely to violate even the safety of our lives. They have certainly held out such a threat. I am sure that even the General would not wish any such untoward event to happen. If he promises to abolish the £ 3 tax, I will stop the march, as I will not break the law merely for the sake of breaking it but I am driven to it by inexorable necessity. Will not the General accede to such a small request?’ I received this reply within half a minute: ‘General Smuts will have nothing to do with you. You may do just as you please.’ With this the message closed.
I had fully expected this result, though I was not prepared for the curtness of the reply. I hoped for a civil answer, as my political relations with the General since the organization of Satyagraha had now subsisted for six years. But as I would not be elated by -his courtesy, I did SATYAGRAHA IN SOUTH AFRICA not weaken in the face of his incivility. The strait and narrow path I had to tread was clear before me. The next day (November 6, 1913) at the appointed stroke of the hour 6-30) we offered prayers and commenced the march I in the name of God. The pilgrim band was composed of 2,037 men, 127 women and 57 children.
CHAPTER XLIV THE GREAT MARCH The caravan of pilgrims thus started punctually at the appointed hour. There is a small spruit one mile from Charlestown, and as soon as one crosses it, one has entered Volksrust or the Transvaal. A small patrol of mounted policemen was on duty at the border gate. I went up to them, leaving instructions with the ‘army5 to cross over when I signalled to them. But while I was still talking with the police, the pilgrims made a sudden rush and crossed the border. The police surrounded them, but the surging multitude was not easy of control. The police had no intention of arresting us. I pacified the pilgrims and got them to arrange themselves in regular rows. Everything was in order in a few minutes and the march into the Transvaal began.
Two days before this the Europeans of Volksrust held a meeting where they offered all manner of threats to the Indians. Some said that they would shoot the Indians if they entered the Transvaal. Mr Kallenbach attended this meeting to reason with the Europeans who were however not prepared to listen to him. Indeed some of them even stood up to assault him. Mr Kallenbach is an athlete, having received physical training at the hands of Sandow, and it was not easy to frighten him. One European chal¬ lenged him to a dual. Mr Kallenbach replied, ‘As I have accepted the religion of peace, I may not accept the challenge. Let him who will come and do his worst with me. But I will continue to claim a hearing at this meeting. You have publicly invited all Europeans to attend, and I am here to inform you that not all Europeans are ready as THE GREAT MARCH THE GREAT MARCH you are to lay violent hands upon innocent men. There is one European who would like to inform you that the charges you level at the Indians are false. The Indians do not want what you imagine them to do. The Indians are not out to challenge your position as rulers. They do not wish to fight with you or to fill the country. They only seek justice pure and simple. They propose to enter the Transvaal not with a view to settle there, but only as an effective demonstration against the unjust tax which is levied upon them. They are brave men. They will not injure you in person or in property, they will not fight with you, but enter the Transvaal they will, even in the face of your gunfire. They are not the men to beat a re¬ treat from the fear of your bullets or your spears. They propose to melt, and I know they will melt, your hearts by self-suffering. This is all I have to say. I have had my say and I believe that I have thus rendered you a service. Beware and save yourselves from perpetrating a wrong.’ With these words Mr Kallenbach resumed his seat. The audience was rather abashed. The pugilist who had invited Mr Kallenbach to single combat became his friend.
We had heard about this meeting and were prepared for any mischief by the Europeans in Volksrust. It was possible that the large number of policemen massed at the border was intended as a check upon them. However that may be, our procession passed through the place in peace. I do not remember that any European attempted even a jest. All were out to witness this novel sight, while there was even a friendly twinkle in the eyes of some of them.
On the first day we were to stop for the night at Palm- ford about eight miles from Volksrust, and we reached the place at- about five p. m. The pilgrims took their ration of bread and sugar, and spread themselves in the open air. Some were talking while others were singing bhajans. Some of the women were thoroughly exhausted by the march. They had dared to carry their children in their arms, but it was impossible for them to proceed further. I therefore, according to my previous warning, kept them as lodgers with a good Indian shopkeeper who SATYAGRAHA IN SOUTH AFRICA promised to send them to Tolstoy Farm if we were per¬ mitted to go there, and to their homes if we were arrested.
As the night advanced, all noises ceased and I too was preparing to retire when I heard a tread. I saw a Euro¬ pean coming lantern in hand. I understood what it meant, but had no preparations to make. The police officer said, T have a warrant of arrest for you. I want to arrest you.5 ‘When?5 I asked.
‘Immediately.5 ‘Where will you take me?5 ‘To the adjoining railway station now, and to Volk- srust when we get a train for it.5 ‘I will go with you without informing any one, but I will leave some instructions with one of my co-workers.’
‘You may do so.5 I roused P. K. Naidoo who was sleeping near me. I informed him about my arrest and asked him not to awake the pilgrims before morning. At daybreak they must regu¬ larly resume the march. The march would commence before sunrise, and when it was time for them to halt and get their rations, he must break to them the news of my arrest. He might inform any one who inquired about me in the interval. If the pilgrims were arrested, they must allow themselves to be arrested. Otherwise they must continue the march according to the programme. Naidoo had no fears at all. I also told him what was to be done in case he was arrested. Mr Kallenbach too was in Volk- srust at the time.
I went with the police officer, and we took the train for Volksrust the next morning. I appeared before the Court in Volksrust, but the Public Prosecutor himself ask¬ ed for a remand until the 14th as he was not readv with * the evidence. The case was postponed accordingly. I applied for bail as I had over 2,000 men, 122 women and 50 children in my charge whom I should like to take on to their destination within the period of postponement. The Public Prosecutor opposed my application. But the Magi¬ strate was helpless in the matter, as every prisoner not THE GREAT MARCH charged with a capital offence is in law entitled to be al¬ lowed to give bail for his appearance, and I could not be deprived of that right. He therefore released me on bail of -£ 50. Mr Kallenbach had a car ready for me, and he took me at once to rejoin the ‘invaders.5 The special re¬ porter of The Transvaal Leader wanted to go with us. We took him in the car, and he published at the time a vivid description of the case, the journey, and the meeting with the pilgrims, who received me with enthusiasm and were transported with joy. Mr Kallenbach at once returned to Volksrust, as he had to look after the Indians stopping at Charlestown as well as fresh arrivals there.