The Life of Chaumont Devin--letters, journal entries, and notes.

A letter from my older brother, Morris, to my mother's mother, written
(probably with mother's help) about 200 miles south of Japan, aboard the
tjikarang.  The time is early april, 1938.

Dear Grandma,

We left Japan yesterday, and there are only two other passengers on this boat
besides ourselves.  Daddy tried to steer this boat, and got five degrees off
course.  He is having a wonderful time, as he likes boats so much.  The
captain eats at the table with Daddy, Shirley, and Mother.

I was up on top, and watched them shoot the sun.  This tells how much to
retard the clock.  Also, whether we are on course or not.  I looked through
the thing they shoot it with.  The sun is all big, and red, and round.  You
look through another telescope, and it makes it little.

It is getting warm down in this ocean.  We will soon put on our white togs.

The man in the hotel at Kobe gave the girls beads, and they are stringing
them.  They are the same kind Mama used to have when she was a little girl.
He gave us boys some puzzles.  We like them.  He gave us money to spend.  His
name is Henry Sanford, and he used to run a bicycle shop in Napa, so he and
mother had a fine visit, all about Calestoga, and Saint Helena, etc.  He has
lived in Kobe since 1898.

We went to a Korean church, and we had to take off our shoes.

We went to Japanese houses and ate sukiaki.  They cook it right before you.
It has fresh meat in it, bean sprouts, brown gravy, vegetables, etc.  They
keep adding some more as you eat it up.  Each person has a bowl of rice, and
the sukiaki is fished out with chopsticks and eaten off the top of the rice
with some of the rice.  We ate with chopsticks, and it was fun.

Mother went up in the mountains.

The girls went to Nara, and saw the great Buddha.  It had 966 girls on its
head.  They rang the big temple bell.  It was thirteen and a half feet high,
and weighed forty-eight tons.  They crawled through a hole.  That meant they
will be able to get into heaven.

We stayed home and had an American meal, which tasted very good as we were
hungry for some home food.

My new teeth are all growing in.  I am the only one who has not been seasick.
I like to ride on boats.

The cherry blossoms were beautiful in Japan.

Love from Morris.

Tell Grandpa we've been praying for him to be well.  I hope his flowers are
growing good.

                                        Love,
                                        Morris.

End letter.

End letter.

Next letter:

                                        april 6, 1938

Dear Florence,

I thought you'd like this map of our journey.  We are almost exactly on the
equator this morning.  We woke up early, and it was so calm in the midst of
the Celebes sea that we could see fish in the water, coconuts and bananas
floating, etc.  All of a sudden we rode into such a tropical rain as we'd
never seen before.  The only thing that anywhere near equals it was the storm
we had in Michigan the year we went east.  We cannot imagine that it can be so
cool this near the equator.  We've not suffered anything so far with the heat.
These rains cool off the atmosphere.

We want you to take a big map and look at the two little islands at the very
southeastern tip of the Philippines.  We passed between the mainland and these
islands into the Celebes Sea.  It was dark, but we had a good view of the
mountains on the Philippines all day.  We didn't realize that we were going so
close to the kingdom of the Sultan of Sulu.  And now, this morning, we're
looking at the island of Celebes.  I had always thought of the Philippines as
a hot, dry place; but the mountains are covered with dense jungle, and it's
about as hot and steamy as I'd pictured it dry.

We've had flying fish all the way so far, and this sea is full of them.  I
feel rather sad that we've left the Pacific.  It always seemed like home was
just across it.  But now, strange waters, strange places.

Really, we've just had a wonderful trip.  We'll never forget the things we've
seen and heard.

Only one more day until we meet Floyd Brown in Makassar.  What a time of
rejoicing that will be!  We stay there three days, then sail three more to get
to Amboina on the fourteenth.

We've all gotten fat, just eating, sleeping, and sitting around.  What a life!
I keep feeling like you're along with us, Florence.  You always liked boat
trips so much.  It's surprising how the time passes.  You'd think it would go
very slowly, but we find it passes quickly from one meal time to another.

There's just a honeymoon couple, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, besides ourselves.  They
are very retiring, and don't bother us a bit.  The children and the captain
are old pals.  He is so nice to us, and kids and teases the children all the
time.  They all spoil Morris on every boat, as Chinese love children, and play
with them all the time.  Our children learn to write Chinese numbers to one
hundred in no time at all.  We keep on with the Malay, too, and I hope it will
come as quickly so that we can do the Lord's work without wasting time.

I guess there will be both Dutch and Malay schools in ambon.  What a help it
will be to have Floyd Brown advise us about such things.  We'd feel lonely
indeed without anyone.

We're getting tanned up, but Ralph has a real sunburn.

Unless it should become very clear, we cannot see Borneo, as wee keep close to
the Celebes side.  I drew a pencil mark the way our boat came.

I have not been much seasick at all.  The first two or three days, on both
boats, I didn't feel too good; but soon got over it.  It's only when the boat
rolls a lot that my stomach doesn't take it.

The children have surely had a wonderful time, whether they realize it or not.
I'm sure it will prove of value to them later in life.

Almost everyone we meet speaks several languages.  They think nothing of it,
as it's practically necessary in these islands, where dialects are prevelant.
Most officers on this boat speak Dutch, English, Malay, and Pidgin English.

well, I must write some more letters.  How we look forward to hearing from you
once more when we get to ambon.  It seems ages since we heard in one way, and
then sometimes it only seems like a day or two since we left home.  We've not
suffered much so far from homesickness, though I think perhaps Shirley does.

Floyd Brown just met us here in Makassar.  What a wonderful day!

                                        Much love,
                                        Edna.


Edna Devin says this letter was written to her sister, Florence Buell, and to
her mother, who was still living at the time.  She says it was written aboard
the Java-China-Japan Line steamer, "Tjikarang," a freighter.

Next letter:

                                        Makassar
                                        Sunday morning
                                        April 10, 1938

Dear folks at home,

We arrived in Makassar Friday morning, at six o'clock--which was Cherry Lee's
birthday.  The sunrise over Makassar was beautiful.

But Floyd was not at the dock.  The Lord wonderfully helped us.  We got into
the wrong office at the steamship company, and in walked a dutchman who said,
"oh, I'll just send my boy up to the Pinkster Kirk" (the Pentecostal church,
in other words) "to get Mr. Brown."  So we decided it was the right office
after all!

The greetings with Floyd were in public, and many laughed as we all exchanged
kisses, especially at Ralph and Floyd.  How thankful we were to be this far on
our journey.

The saints had three nice rooms all prepared for us, though they did not
expect us till Saturday.

We have had a wonderful time here.  Went to a tea yesterday with the
Missionary Alliance saints, who have received us so royally.  We surely thank
God!  their labours in New Guinea will be an entirely different field from
ours, so we can fellowship and pray one for the other.

Right now, after three Sunday Schools, one after the other, we are getting
rested before we eat.  Floyd is cooking dinner.  I took a picture of him with
three native babus cooking.

So much to write, I don't know where to begin.  This is the most beautiful
place we've ever seen anywhere in the world, and the most interesting.  When
the boat arrived, hundreds of Mohammedans and Malays, in their bright-colored
skirts, called sarongs, and fezzes, poured onto the ship like ants, and began
to unload it.  We had never seen such a sight!  they are so small!  no larger
than Rod. And many are smaller.  But powerful muscles help them do hard work.

There are coconut and banana palms all over town, and a lush green foliage,
and grass so bright, spotted with gorgeous flowers.  Our bouquette is lavender
and purple orchids and maidenhair ferns--easily worth $25 in your land!  they
were picked just outside, in the garden.  Bouganville and lantana, hibiscus,
oleandar, are in almost every garden, and wild along the roads and lanes in
the country.  The whole city reminds us of an exotic greenhouse, full of ferns
and orchids.  Lacy trees line the lanes and roadways.

It is a lovely town, as the Dutch build so much better than the Japanese.  The
style of the architecture smacks loudly of the Spanish, but Ralph thinks
perhaps it is Portuguese.  The streets downtown remind me of Santa
Barbara--all bright colors, and whitwash, tile roofs, shutters, and
overhanging balconies.  Out farther the houses and gardens are more spacious,
and all houses have tile floors.

Rents are very cheap.  The Missionary Alliance house we were in costs only
$32.50 American money a month, and is like a Hollywood mansion, and nearly as
large.  A servant's quarters are in the rear.

Very few automobiles here.  All bicycles, but girls and women ride them too.
The taxies here are three-wheeled bicycle carts.  Mohammedans peddle them, and
for five or ten cents, three or four of us can ride for an hour or two this
way.  I took pictures of this also.

Now Floyd was holding revival services here when we arrived, as he'd been here
two weeks ahead of us.  They are wonderful!  God is blessing, and the glory
has come down.  Souls are being re-claimed, saved, healed, and filled with the
Spirit.

The saints are so cordial and lovely to us.  The little Mohammedan babus, or
servants, are so cute--about teedle's size, but grown women.  Very pretty.
Lots of jewellery.  One has an American $20 gold piece on a gold chain about
her neck, though I doubt if it's real.

Pentecost is in much the same state here as in the United States.  There is a
luke-warmness, some division and backslidings; but some are coming out for
God.

Two boys from our bible school in Java are here.  Nineteen years old, but they
seem about as powerful for God as Roderick, and perhaps not as much
established.  Yet they are such a contrast compared to the sinners, it is a
joy to behold what God can do.

The music is beautiful.  It is better than any in the United States we have
ever heard.  It is not like Hawaiian, and yet similar.  A choir of about
fifteen young people sing unaccompanied, and it is much better than our Bethel
choir at home of a hundred and fifty voices.  They sure can sing!

Oh, yes, we are not as hot here as summer days at your house.  Though we sweat
plenty, right now, while I am writing, I am not sweating.  A cool breeze comes
in, and it is noon.  About two to four in the afternoon is the hottest time,
and everyone undresses and goes to bed, then takes a cold shower and dresses.
Meetings start early, at six forty-five, but the heat stays with us pretty
well until late evening.  The last part of the night and early morning is
cool, so people arise about four a.m.

We are to have free rent at Ambon, and I feel sure we'll be most comfortable,
as they say it's as cool or more so than here.

Now we are very glad we studied Malay, as we certainly find it's easy to pick
up, because we already have almost a complete vocabulary.  We can ask for
things, greet people, and understand much already.  Nearly all speak a few
words of English, which helps.  Floyd speaks Malay so fluently, and interprets
for us.  And maybe you think I wasn't thrilled our first night here, bringing
the word of God, Floyd interpreting, with the power of God!  not like our
Japanese meetings.

One thing we miss very much.  As soon as we left the United States, Sunday
dropped right out of the calendar.  No different from any other day.  Japan
and the Indies observe all days alike except their own holidays.  Japanese
children go to school on Saturday, many of them.  Americans may seem lax about
Sunday, but you'll never know what it means until you've been away like this,
even just to have the stores closed!

The food we've had so far has been American, and good, and just what we like;
but Floyd says they're cooking it especially for us.  So we're not initiated.
I guess food is very plentiful, and some of the new fruits are delicious.
Pisang, pronounced "pea song," is banana, so we have seventy-two kinds in the
Indies.  Say, they are delicious, and range in size from finger length to
sticks of stove-wood weighing two pounds apiece!  There is such a mixture of
people here we can't puzzle them out.
We don't know yet which are Malays, Buginese, Hindustani, Makassarese,
Javanese, etc.  But Floyd Brown knows them apart.  Some half-casts speak
perfectly good English.

Oh, yes, there are no mosquitoes or flies to speak of.  In fact, no flies at
all.  And no screens.  I don't know whether it's just the season, or always
this way.  The mosquitoes are not near as bad as right in our yards in Fresno.
Ants are very thick, and several sizes and kinds, and little tiny lizards come
indoors, but they are kind of pets, because they eat bugs and mosquitoes, and
the Lord made them look real cute to me, so I like them.

This is a busy port.  Seven big ships were docked, already loading and
unloading when the Tjikarang came steaming in.  The shops seem very modern,
and you can buy anything you want here.  The women dress very much like we do
at home, except the Mohammedans.  They wear long skirts, and have bare feet
and legs.  The men have gorgeous robes, actually sarongs, pink, red, purple,
blue, no orange or yellow.  A black or red fez for their heads.

Floyd doesn't seem to want to know the home news at all, which puzzles me.  He
didn't even ask how his mother is, but we told him most of it anyhow.  I think
it is very hard on him having to speak English to us, Malay to the household,
and the meetings on top of it all.

You'd laugh to see them do our laundry.  Two Mohammedan boys squat on the
tiled cement floor, and soak a bunch in clear water, take out a piece, lay it
on top of the tile, soap it good, and brush it or pound it.  Each piece done
laboriously by hand, ironed on a table with a charcoal iron.  It is big, and
the coals are right in it.

Floyd's meal was mashed potatoes, fried chicken, cucombers, creamed salad.
Then a chinese saint sent in a whole dinner!  Did we eat!  Well, rather!

I am trying to think of everything you'll want to know.  We expect letters at
Ambon.  I wrote Ginger, but you can always send my letters along to her if you
want to.  She has been writing such sweet letters to us, and we surely enjoy
them.  My plan is to write one letter per family.  Aina for the Bartholomews,
Edith Gregory for the Tracies, Nelda Lincoln for theirs, etc.  Of course our
circular letters will soon come out now.

Our customs are all paid.  God so wonderfully undertook!  Floyd had already
contacted an official, who reduced all our declarations from dollars to
guilders, and even then cut off a lot, and never opened a box.  A guilder is
fifty-six cents, but buys much more here than a dollar does in America.  We
were prepared to pay as much as $100 duty, and were only charged about $35.
We do praise the Lord for that!

Floyd and Roderick hit it off fine.  I hope they continue to.  I think it is
wonderful how the children have stood everything, and really behaved better
than at home most of the time.  Rod tries to go lickety-larrup riding
bicycles, etc., but has to sit down and cool off, which is good for him.  He
got so excited over Sunday school this morning, he says he can't wait until we
get to Ambon and have our own.  I'm so glad he is moved of God this way.

The little naked native children are just darling.  Floyd says the Sunday
school is neglected much in the Indies, so perhaps God will give Roderick the
burden.  Morris is so popular everywhere we go, I hope he doesn't get spoiled.
I suppose it's because there are so few white children.  There are many more
whites here, though, than in Japan.

Our cool breeze continues this afternoon.  Praise the Lord!
We find there is about six and a half hours difference in your time and ours,
but so far we don't know whether you are ahead of us or behind.  I think like
this: it is three here, April tenth.  It must be nine-thirty in the evening,
April tenth, for you.  Sunday service is just about over.  We'll have to look
it up, as I always picture what you're all doing at home while I'm doing such
strange things here.

One sister in seattle made us four girls each lovely housecoats out of bright,
flowered material, and we certainly have had need of them!  Here we must wear
something like that half of the time between bath, toilet, bedroom, etc.  We
are so thankful to have them.  We left all our heavy woolen coats, etc., in
Japan, for the Coots, as we have no need of them here.  If we go home someday,
we'l trust God to supply our needs.

We wear sandals, and no socks, in the house.  On the street, we must be
dressed up.  Otherwise we loose face.  The Dutch government simply commands
respect. (Ha,ha!)  We covet their good will, and obey their wishes as much as
possible.

Street hawkers here cry all day long.  One thing they shout always sounds
about like, "hup! hup!"  Almost like, "help! help!" but not quite.  I wonder
if he sells jewellery or fish.  You never can tell till the lid's off!

Shoe stores display every pair they have in glass-enclosed shelves, like glass
book-cases.  All you have to do is point out what you want.  Ralph's sandals
had to be made to order.  They cost about a dollar.

Our bed has yards of hand-made lace on it.  A great canopy of what we would
call "scrim," instead of mosquito netting, encloses us entirely.  However, we
like the breeze, and loop it up.  The ceilings are very high, walls very
thick, in houses here.

I will put a seed or two in my letters now and then, and you can plant them.
Tell dad the children all talk about him, and wish Grandpa could see all the
sights too.  I don't know why they always think of him.  Probably because of
his irish ways.

Much love to you each and all, and greet the saints in Jesus dear name!

                                        edna.

End letter.

Next letter:

                                        April 17, 1938.

Dear ones at home,

We landed here in the most beautiful spot in the whole world, it seems.  The
Lord was wonderfully with us on the last boat, and we are staying with the
native pastor and his family, who took us in with a fine welcome, the church
all decorated for our arrival.  We've had the grandest meetings, and are
rejoicing in Him.

Yesterday afternoon, a native Papuan, from the Digul river district, the very
farthest out-station of the hundred they want us to take over, came here to
the house, and gave his heart to the Lord.  He was in the meeting last night,
and we so hope he turns out to be a real worker.  He said he stood in the
doorway of the church the first night we spoke, and he wanted to know about
the Lord.  We think this is a most miraculous working of the Holy Spirit.  The
Lord knows, we'd love to be there in the real field, But we are not ready, so
he sends a man to us.  Praise His name for ever!

There is a great big work here, and Floyd starts revival services tomorrow,
April 18, 1938.  Now this is just like heaven for looks.  Some other things
are not a bit heavenly.

But god is gracious, and we are all just real well, and are going to rent a
house to live in, several blocks out.  It is not ready for us yet, and they
take all the time in the world here to do things.  We must have city water
piped in, etc.  It takes weeks instead of days.  We're very comfortable with
these people, who just about turned their house over to us.  Now our own house
will be like a big villa, all tile floors, a thatched roof, well and
bath-house out in the rear, about a dozen banana trees (one has a bunch on
it), three coconut trees, a papaya tree or bush.  I will try to send you some
seeds from this fruit in your christmas package.  I think they will get in
okay that way.

We are en-route to a wealthy Chinese home, our first invitation out in
amboina.  We went out about seven miles to preach the other night, and it was
such a lovely meeting.  Also, everywhere you look in this country, it is so
beautiful in this country that we just drink it in.

about the heat, we are all able to stand it, being about like some of your
days in Monrovia, when you sweat good and plenty.  Of course, it doesn't cool
off here like at your place.  Yet it is cool at night to what we thought it
might be.  We will not suffer much from the heat when we get settled, and have
things the way we want them.  The natives shut themselves up tighter than a
tin box at night, and put tons of mosquito netting around them, and never open
a window or door.  We open up everything, and it is cool enough then so we
need a light cover, doubled sheet or cotten blanket.

we can buy almost anything in the cloth and clothing line here.  Things are
much higher than Makassar, and every single thing is imported, so if they only
have one in town, that's all they is, and they ain't no more!  We need seven
of some things, and that's bad.  But we know the Lord will help us.  Matresses
are so high we can't afford them, so we're going to put matting mats on top of
our springs, fold a blanket, and put our sheets on, and that will not be as
hard as the native beds, which are just boards with a matress on top.  This
sounds hard, But is not a bad bed at all for this climate.

We feel like this is so much more civilized than we thought.  The Dutch do
things up very nicely.  The natives not so.
The climate here is considered the best in the Indies.  Good water.  Cool.
Lots of fish, bananas, coconuts, etc.

Morris says to tell you that the beach is so pretty.  We all went swimming
there, and I learned to swim a little.  We came across in a little sampan, and
there was another sampan there.  We played at tipping it over and having fun
in it.

I am trying to find pictures to enclose in this letter.  The boat goes early
in the morning.  And now we must go.

I will try to write every week, even if the boats do not go, so will number
this letter number one from Amboina.

We do so long to hear from home, and have had an airmail from the boys at the
store, But no other mail or news.  We would appreciate newspaper clippings of
anything very startling.

Our postage is very high.  About seven cents american money.  That is not so
good, as we write a lot of letters in a month.  We will try to get out a form
letter in a week or two.

Must go.  Loads of love to you all, and when your letters start coming, it
won't seem quite so lonesome.  We do not have much time to be lonely, however.

Greet the saints.

                                        Love from Edna.

End letter.

Next letter:

                                        april 27, 1938.

Dear Grandma and all,

Well, we have an address, at last!  How happy we are to be moved into a house
of our own!  We took the third one bwe bargained for, and it is proving just
what we needed.

Things are very high in Amboina to what they were in Makassar, and we've had
to just wait on the Lord, and trust Him to help us.

We gave them fifteen guilders, or about eight dollars, though, and I don't
think it cost them any more than that, except the bother of having us all
there, which they didn't seem to mind.  They surely have built a fine work
here in Ambon.  They have little church assemblies all around on the island,
and we go to them in a little tiny car, about like a motor-cycle with a box on
the back, and benches along each side.  It is fun, and the country is so
beautiful it doesn't seem real.

You will want to know about our house.  Well, the living room is big.  More
square than yours, and not quite so large, maybe, but we live mostly out on
the front porch, or verandah, which goes clear across the front of the house.
There is a red, brick-like tile throughout the whole front of the house.  In
fact, through the whole place.  Three bedrooms.  The girls have one, ralph and
I the other, floyd one, and then there's an immense room of a kind of a
verandah porch out back, and we have a table about twelve feet long out there
to eat on.  Brother Siloi gave it to us.  It has been beautiful at one time,
but the termites have eaten up quite a bit of it.  We need robert here with
his squirt gun to kill them.  Well, Geezer and Rod sleep in the other end of
this porch from where we eat.  The whole place is wide open, you know, kind of
like a Spanish hacienda.

Just can't seem to type today!

But Dad and Floyd are making cupboards, putting up shelves, etc., and we're
really beginning to get straightened out pretty well.

We have three babus, or servants, kind of loaned out to us from the pastor,
Siloi, who had eight at his place.  We feed them their rice and dried fish,
and give them about six or seven dollars a month to divide between them.  This
is as near as we can figure it out.  The boy's name is La-Di, which sounds
funny to us.  He is a mohammedan, but honest.  The two women are christians,
who go to our church.  One is Lucinda, the other Wilhelmina.  I call them
Willy and Lou.

To tell the truth, we can't call them much of anything as yet!  However we
learn some more Malay every day, and are surely glad we know as much of it as
we do.  We can ask for things, greet people, say good-bye, etc.

Our yard has twelve banana trees in it, three coconut palms, and a papaya, and
two other trees of native fruits they say are delicious.  We have to wait till
they're ripe to find out.

We put up screens on the bedroom windows, and surprised the natives, who have
never seen anybody do such a crazy thing as that!  Well, there are no
mosquitos or flies, gnats, etc., here, compared to anywhere at all we've ever
lived in California.  I cannot understand this, unless there might be more
some other time of year, or maybe their bites are more malarial, or something.
We'd never think of having screens in a house if there were no more insects
than this, but perhaps we'll learn more later.  Of course New Guinea is
different.

We have city water to drink, and everyone here uses it without boiling.
However floyd thinks we should boil ours.

We can buy almost anything at all, and find out that sugar is cheaper than in
the United States.  Flour is much higher.  No butter that we like, so we use
Oleo, which is about the price of Crisco at home.  I guess it's cheaper, come
to think of it.  Bananas are five cents for about two dozen.  Fish is very
cheap, and so is chicken.  We have fried chicken all the time.  Some kinds of
green vegetables are cheap, and yesterday we had a regular United States
salad--cucombers, tomatoes, onions, and bunch lettuce.  They make wonderful
french dressing, and grate up the boiled eggs in it some way.  It tastes just
like home.

We do not feel that this is real missionary work here, though God has moved
wonderfully since we came to Amboina.  Floyd held revival meetings a week
straight through for Brother Siloi, and about five or six were saved, and
twelve received the baptism.

The wealthy Chinese have been most kind to invite us to their homes.  They
make wonderful Christians when sold out to God.

We could have electricity, but are not having it turned on, as it is very
weak, and expensive too.

This town is much more civilized than we supposed.  God will probably allow us
to have this for our base, then work into New Guinea from here.

All our goods came through in fine shape.  Nothing broken but a little ten
cent pitcher.  My pottery is just beautiful, and there is none here like it.
Even my big pitcher and chop plate came through okay.

Our little oil stove is good.

The bicycles are not only handy, but absolutely necessary here, and the only
means of transportation.  The Dutch people all have one apiece.  The whole
family goes riding an hour or two as the sun goes down.

Shirley and I were invited out at ten in the morning--everyone sleeps in the
afternoon--to visit a Dutch girl who is married to a Chinese man.  We went on
the bicycles.  She speaks very good English, and is not saved, so we invited
her to come to church with her husband, who is saved, and she said she would.
We will pray for her.

I do not remember whether I wrote you about the native Papuan who came to
brother Siloi's and gave his heart to the Lord.  Anyhow, the Lord gave us one
the first week here, and we do feel so encouraged in the Lord, and I know when
we're able to preach in the language, we can evangelize to a great good right
here in Ambon.

The Salvation Army man and his wife and daughter who are here have spent
twenty-eight years in the Indies, and are wonderful christian people.  We will
go to their meetings too.  The Protestant church, which is Dutch State, is
very worldly, lukewarm, etc., but a Bickmy Moodyite is coming this way to
revive it.  He is death on Pentecost, I hear, but we are trusting in God.

Many flowers here are the same you have.  Bougainville is everywhere.  The one
Chinese home where they entertained us reminded us of a hollywood garden.
About half an acre in lawn, open in the center, with shade trees at the edges,
the big house opening on every side onto the lawn.

All our laundry, dishes, etc., are washed in cold water.  I don't see how they
ever get them clean.

Our bath-house has a big cement bin that holds about as much as your bath-tub
if filled to the brim.  That is kept full all the time by the servants.  Then
there is a bucket or can in the place.  You undress, and stand by the side of
the water trough, and dip the water out, and pour it over you.  The floor is
tile, and the water runs out a little drain spout.

If we just had a hose, we could hose out our whole house, and not have to
sweep.

I don't think we'll ever work again!  the babus do everything, and you just
sit and sit, and wait for the meetings.  However we'll be studying Malay,
visiting the sick, helping in all the meetings, etc., and it's a good thing we
have some time for the Lord.

The other night, when part of us were still at Siloi's, Rod and Bee and Morris
were all here alone in the new house, so they had a prayer meeting, and Rod
and Thalia both had an infilling in the Holy Spirit, and they were all happy
in the Lord when we saw them the next morning.

The weather is about like summer in your country, only a bit more humid.
Something like Bakersfield, only not so hot.  The evenings are cool, and we
have to have a thin cover at night.

Our clothes are not only the right kind for this country, but we have just
barely enough of them, because they have to be washed so much.

Now I will try to get the additions for our mailing list written down for
Florence, and I think perhaps we can mail just as cheap right from here.  If
we can, we will do so, as people always like the foreign stamps, and to feel
like the news is right from the firing line.

May the Lord bless and keep you each and all, and keep on praying for us.

Lots of love to you all,

                                        Edna.

end letter.

Comment about April, 1938:

When I (Joe Devin) was with her in late 1979, Edna added this post-script
to the above letter:

"When we had been in our new home for the first few days everything went fine,
but our first message from the united states told of the death of my
step-father.  This came as a telegram, and simply said, "Papa died May 3rd."
And of course it will take weeks for us to receive a letter telling of how he
went home.  But as I prayed, the Lord gave me a wonderful reassurance in him
by giving me the scripture verse, 'The Lord knoweth them that are His.'  And
the first letter I wrote home was May 19th, 1938."

End comment.

Next letter:

                                        May 19, 1938.

Dear ones at home,

We are sad indeed as we have to write the first letter since Dad went home,
and by the time this ever reaches you it will be weeks later, and you will be
over the first keen pangs of parting.

I was not feeling so good, and was lying down when the wire came, about eleven
Sunday morning, ma fifteenth.  The children all yelled, "Telegram!  Telegram!"
and Ralph took it.  I heard the children say, "Don't tell Mama, she's sick!"
And while it was sweet of them to think of me, yet I had already overheard the
sad news, and we all wept together, as we all loved Grandpa so much.

He will always be missed, but we are thankful his earthly trials and
sufferings are over, and we are assured he is in our heavenly home, where he
is safe at last with Jesus!  I felt such peace in my soul as the Lord woke me
up saying, "The Lord knoweth them that are His." (2 Timothy 2:19).

When you wrote last winter about Grandpa's sickness, and his desire to serve
God, the children were all so happy, and kept telling people, "Grandpa got
saved!"  Ralph and I were sure the Lord was first in his heart, though the
outward man did not seem to change so much.  We are assured of his salvation,
and know he is in Glory with our other loved ones.  "The Lord knoweth them
that are His."

We suppose he died Friday or Saturday, March 14th or 15th, and was buried
Monday afternoon.  We prayed much for all of you, and dear little Ebby and
Cherry-Lee, and the Lake County ones.  I had just written Ginger, but will
write again.  I will not be surprised if she took Mother home with her.  So
many things we wonder about, but we just trust the Lord, and we'll be patient
until we hear.

Shirley has had a bad cold, but is much better today.  The others are in
school after three days vacation.  We are studying Malay.  I am much better in
my own body than I have been in the United States, and really feel good here.
Thalia is plump.  She's almost as big as Shirley.  Teedle and Roderick learn
the Dutch so fast, and can read some already.

Mother, it is hard to think of you so far away, and all alone, and how we
would have loved having you live with us for awhile if we were in the United
States.  I have almost wished Shirley was with you.  Yet we feel we have
obeyed God in being here at this time.

It is very cool here for the tropics now, but rains all the time, and they say
July and August will be even cooler.  We often put the wool blankets over us
at night.  December and January are the hot months.

Ralph grasps the Malay very readily, and follows our babus around all day
trying it out on them.

Florence, it was so sweet of you to send us the wire, and it must have cost a
lot.  I am sorry for you girls to have all the cares and burdens, and us not
be there to share them, but I know there is a blessing in it we will miss,
also.  I thought, "of any two words in all the dictionary, you chose the two
best to express everything."

We so hope Mother bears up, and that you all get a good rest after sorrow and
sadness.  I could not think of home with Dad gone.  I can't hardly yet.  And
of all of us, he will be missed the very most.  But how nice to just remember
how he always gave and gave to all of us the very best he knew how, and was
always so loved by everybody.  The children all feel very bad to think they
will not see him again on this earth.  To us older ones, Heaven seems closer,
and we know we will soon be over there too.

Right now, don't read this aloud, if that place on Mama's chest is not well,
or if it fills up again, please don't neglect it, but have a good docter take
care of it, as the sack should be removed.  Then it can't fill that way again.
I have meant to write this for a long time, but forget.

Poor Ginger will feel so bad.  I am sorry for them.

The day of May 15th, Saturday, I had such a burden to pray, and it seemed to
be for Ginger and elbert and the children, and John W.

We would love some snapshots of Mother and Dad, and also the rest of you, as
we can keep them here in Ambon okay.  But our albums are all stored in
Seattle, as we supposed we could not keep them here.

We supposed vint had just gone to lakeport, then came right back again, ha?

Another Papuan came to our meetings, but has not been converted yet.

We expect to go to another island nearby, and preach for two or three days,
either this week or next.  Mrs. Siloi will oversee things while we are away.

I just met a Dutch couple, the little boy two years, who have lived in New
Guinea.  Certain parts are fairly habitable, I guess.  We will need Brother
Lennon to help us fight Rome in New Guinea, as they got there first, but we
seem to be here just as the government is opening it up, and we are sure it is
God's time.  We will probably go up the Digul river in New Guinea.

Florence, you and Bob ought to be able, I mean smart enough, to find a radio
ham short wave amateur who would contact Ambon, and get a message through to
us every now and then.  If we had only brought our radio!  Now that the
Chinese pay for our electricity, we could get the United States every now and
then, also Australia.

Please clip us some news items, such as war, election news, etc., of the
United States and world importance, say once a month or so, or else give this
commission to some saint who would like to do it, as we have had no world news
since we arrived.

Ralph's three lovely new suits, light cream color, all cost less than fifteen
dollars--about four-fifty apiece.  It does not seem possible.  In seattle they
wanted twenty-five dollars just for the tailoring.

Well, the pets keep arriving.  Floyd is making a dove cote for our two pretty
white pigeons, and our black duck lays eggs.  So does our hen.  And Jacob
struts around as manager.  Last evening a little half Dutch and half Hungarian
girl named lilly brought her white cockatoo over, and he is also Jacob, and
calls his own name, but does not speak English.

Ralph has an English Sunday-school class in Elim Tabernacle, brother siloi's
church, and he invited a man who came.  The lesson went into the subject of
Mohammedanism, and then Ralph learned the man was a mohammedan, and yet he
took no offence, and said he'd come back again.

A friend who's coming to visit this morning is a full-blooded Dutch woman
married to a pure Chinese man.  Their children are lovely, well-mannered,
well-educated, butlook Chinese altogether.  they are christians.  The mother
and eldest daughter speak English.  Now they are not low enough to associate
with real Ambonese, nor high enough to mix with the Dutch, but with us
Americans it is different.  All the mixtures mix with us.  Also the Dutch.
Whether they would socially or not, I don't know or care, but we think how
wonderful it is that from the least to the greatest we can befriend them all.

The only dentist in Ambon is a Dutch woman of high degree.  Very refined.
Ralph had a filling, and left a paper by mistake, which she returned
personally, and visited us awhile.

We are kept very busy, but our letter-writing is caught up somewhat now.
Florence, we think we can mail our bulletins here just as cheap as to send to
you, so we'll probably put out some soon.

May the God of all comfort pour out his love and blessing upon you.  And do
write often, as we just long to hear, even a few words, from home.

Love from us each and all,

                                        Edna.

End letter.

Next letter:

                                        May 24, 1938.

Dear Mother and all,

You must be very lonely with dear old Dad gone.  Even we are lonesome for him,
though we're so far away.

We are all well, though Shirley's cold was a bad one, and I worried over her.
But the Lord has touched her body, and she is much better.

The little dutchers are getting put up into their proper classes in school.

We have had lovely cool weather, and sleep so good at night that we get rested
up.

Last night Floyd and Ralph went to amahusu to hold a meeting, and the Devil
was pretty mad, and they threatened them, and threw rocks at them, and one man
wanted to fight Floyd.  But the Lord wonderfully protected them.  They came
home rejoicing in Him, knowing He must be doing great things, or the enemy
would not be so stirred.

When we had the wake at our house last Friday, I sang in the Malay, "What a
friend we have in Jesus," as I had done previously in the country at a
meeting.  The power fell as I sang, and many of the unsaved stood weeping.  We
counted over sixty-five unsaved in our yard, and there were about two hundred
more in the street who heard the word preached forth.  They are much moved,
and we know God will save many of these Mohammedans.  The one who came to
Ralph's class at Sunday school was back again, so hungry to know the truth.
Floyd lent him a bible.  We hope he gets saved.

Sunday we ate with the Chinese women, who dressed us up for the enclosed
photo.  they seem to love us, and are so jolly, and remind us the most of
Americans of any of the mixtures around here.

There are no white people in the three hundred at Pinkster Kirk.  The Dutch
seem to think Pentecost is only for the natives.  But we are praying that God
will move on some of them, and save them.

So far, God has given us to mix with all classes, kinds, colors, etc.  We had
three or four different classes all sitting together in our front room
yesterday, and they seemed to get along okay.

We had one guest who is a deformed little fellow, something like carl
brandenburg used to be, only smaller.  His head is normal, and he knows
several languages, including English, which he enjoyed speaking to us very
much.  Floyd's little school-teacher brought him to visit us.  He told us a
lot about new guinea.  He says the natives powder up the ocean shells into a
fine talk, and if they come out and throw that on you, that means they are
hostile to you, and will not be friends.  If they see you have anything they
want, like a knife, gun, or such like, they will maneuver around for weeks,
and entertain you, etc., until they can get the chance to steal it from you.
However we know God wants to save them, so we're praying we get our permits,
and can go.

I am feeling fine, and getting fat on this native grub.  Thalia just eats it
like a little pig, and fattens right up on it.  The boys, too, have the most
meat on them they've ever had.  But they run a lot of it off.  They are just
as busy here as they were in america.

We decorated our front room somewhat with pictures from Sunday-school rolls,
and some more of American scenes, and the people here enjoy them a lot.  Also,
Brother Floyd lent us two pretty pieces of batik to put up as wall hangings,
and they help.

Floyd reminds me so much of orland, and I guess all old batches have about the
same nature the world over.

We can hardly wait till Friday of this week, when more letters should come
from home.  We only get American mail once in two weeks.  It is a long time to
wait, and we have no news at all, except the boys learned last night about the
trouble between Poland and Germany.

I wrote to Ginger too, but can't seem to think of much news to write today.

Our Malay studying is not so easy for me as for Ralph.  His Devin brain grasps
it, and he goes right ahead talking it to his little babu, and has learned it
the fastest of all except Rod.  Rod can speel off whole sentences already, but
I have to puzzle out what they mean.  We only catch a part of what they
preach, and our first weeks have been mostly just sitting patiently, not
knowing a thing that goes on around us.

Shirley is waiting to go to the post office with this letter, so I will close.
We hope you are all well, and we long to comfort you at this trying time, but
we will have to leave you all with Jesus.

Loads of love,

                                        edna.

End letter.

Next letter:

                                        May 29, 1938.

Dear Mother and Florence,

We got a letter from each of you on this last boat.  That is, Florence's
report, and the copy of letter to Regina.  It was addressed by Dad, and it
seemed hard to realize he is already in Glory.  We still feel very bad to
think we did not see him anymore, but it seemed to be God's will.

The money order did not come yet, but they are always later than a letter, as
it takes the time to New York and back to the coast again.  We do not need it
urgently as yet, but from the reports from Seattle, we will probably not have
any income from that source to speak of, as Dave Hunting got Mike Downs to
agree that if there is no profit to the biz we get nothing.  But if they make
a profit, we get our share.  Of course in a way this is okay, and we know it
is of the Lord if we have to rely solely upon Him.  I am sure He wants us to.

Now Mr. Hamel, of the Protestant Dutch church called on us.  He has charge of
all the New Guinea territory, and wants us to hurry on into the field so the
Roman Catholics will not get in.  It was considered almost beyond belief that
a man of his standing would call upon us, so we praised God, and thanked him
for moving upon this man's heart.  He is inviting missionary alliance in the
same way, as they have no finances to send workers of their own in.  They
consider it takes five thousand dollars a year for the territory they would
like us to take over.  There is no food to speak of in New Guinea, and
everything is very high.  We are just waiting on the Lord to show us what to
do.  Mr. Hamel is a Moody graduate of 1919, I believe, and also a graduate of
Drew Seminary, which is Presbyterian, and one other big Presbyterian school in
the East somewhere.  He has been in the Indies ever since, but still speaks
English very fluently.  However he said his years in the united states gave
him a little different slant on things from the ordinary domini of his
denomination.  He says a friend of his is coming six months from now to hold
revival meetings with him, and he wants to see a real revival in Ambon.  Well,
we wanted to also, and I'm afraid he's going to be about six months behind the
times, the way God keeps moving.  Praise the Lord!

Thursday was Ascension Day, and even Pinkster Kirk celebrated by having two
water baptismal services.  They make a lot of all church holidays here.  In
the morning, Ralph and I and brother Siloi went up toward Suli, to the farm
where God moved so mightily that other day, and they baptised in the river.
Ralph's first time for officiating.  I tried to get pictures, but it was too
dark.  It was a wonderful service, and the power of God was manifest in a
remarkable way.  One precious man was so happy after a long life of sadness
and sorrow.  The annointing remained on him, and he could not help speaking in
tongues.  We understood he got his baptism as he came up out of the water, but
he may have had it.  Our interpreter, Browney, was not there, so we cannot be
sure.  However we do know that the Lord wonderfully blessed.

 On the same evening, in the church, which was simply packed full, Ralph and
Brother Siloi baptised several more.  And think of our joy when the little
Papuan, who had been saved the first week we were here, came to be baptised.
We were so happy we could hardly believe it possible.  The power of God fell
until we could not take communion for about an hour, everyone was praising so
loud.  As we took communion, brother Floyd went under the power, and rolled on
the floor, and then gave a long message in tongues which brother Siloi
interpreted.  This was the first time Floyd had ever had a message.  Oh, what
a time we had, the shakaina glory dwelling in our midst!

Then Friday night, the wake on our front porch was beyond any we've had so
far.  There were about two hundred in our yard of the unsaved who listened to
the word.  Many were Mohammedans.  And the street was so full, traffic could
not pass.  People are so hungry that a whole multitude gathers and presses,
just like they used to when the Lord was on earth.  They listen so eagerly,
and keep coming back again.  We do pray God to save many of them!

This afternoon Ralph and Floyd and Shirley have gone to a funeral.  I was
supposed to go, but was sound asleep, as we're supposed also to take siesta
here, just like they do in Mexico, from two to four.  I will not know what
kind of funerals they have until the boys get back.

It is almost miraculous how Ralph learns the Malay.  He can already, in less
than six weeks, carry on a conversation enough to get by.  Roderick too can
talk a lot of it.  But the rest of us seem to be a little dumber, or else we
don't get to study as hard.

Shirley had a bad cold, but is much better, and seems like herself again.  I
was worried over her cough.  Ralph's head bothered him for a long time after
his fall, but is perfectly well again.

We are all fine, and the rainy season continues and is cool.  They say it will
last through september, but that it will be unbearably hot after that.

Mr. Hamel will help us get to New Guinea any time on a government boat very
reasonably.  They go clear up the Digul river to Tanah-Merah, which is not
shown on most maps, as it is a new Dutch project.  Rome is already in this
field, so pray for us.  The Adventists plan on going in also.  We are surely
in the Lord's time, as the governor is just opening up New Guinea, and we are
putting in better fortifications, anda big air base here at Ambon.

We will have airmail service after January, 1939.

Ralph's learning the Malay is just like the Devins for brain power, ha?  He
just studies it, and then knows it.  And as long as he knows it, he just tries
it out on anybody at all, and sees how it works.  So far, he's not made any
very bad mistakes.  Floyd is not much good as a teacher, now that we have the
hang of it.  It just takes study, and plenty of it.  We understand the gist of
preaching, a conversation, etc.  Now that helps a lot.  Florence and Thalia
talk the Dutch, but I do not know how good.

The Chinese just love Thalia, and beg for her to stay all night every week.
She likes them too, as they are so jolly.  And so, away she went last night,
and stayed with them again.  They had us all for dinner again today.  It was
very good, and I enjoyed it.  They keep us supplied with food until we don't
hardly have to buy any except some plain staples.  It is wonderful how the
Lord has supplied us that way.

Today I passed by a big bunch of Mohammedans working on a cart, and one said,
in perfect English, "I hear they speak English."

I smiled, and said, "Surely."

It pleased them almost to pieces, and their white teeth glistened.  As far as
I could see they were smiling and laughing.

We keep learning a little more all the time about this island.  There are
sixty thousand inhabitants.  Two hundred whites.  Fifteen thousand people in
Amboina, and the rest in little native villages over the island.

Yesterday we walked up to the spring on the mountainside three miles to where
the city water supply comes from.  It is all cemented over, and surely must be
as pure as water can be, but they seem to chlorinate it besides, and everyone
says its perfectly safe to drink.  Well, there's a big cement pool where the
overflow drains. Clear sparkling water.  And by getting the key, the white
people may swim in there.  So Ralph and I had a good swim.  Floyd and the
children had already been up there.  You just don't have any idea how
beautiful this walk up the mountain is!  the river flows about a hundred feet
below all the way.  Just a gushing mountain torrent over rocks and boulders,
like any mountain stream at home.  Then palms, bananas, and dozens of other
kinds of trees grow up the mountain sides.  Everything so green, so green.
Then ferns everywhere, and trailing vines that hang from the trees.  Also
orchids blooming in the little niches on the palm trees, where the old leaves
have been broken off.  It was just too beautiful for words!  you can look down
all over Ambon bay, and off to the mountains on the other side of the bay,
which are much higher than where we were.  But after we'd gone that far, we
could still see native houses farther on up the mountainside.  People can grow
enough food to exist almost anywhere here, though the soil is about like
monrovia, just volcanic gravel of about as much quality.  I don't know what
they fertilize it with.  This trail we went up is a government trail, and is
very fine.  We rode our bikes most all the way down, but had to walk up.
Ralph didn't, but he rides better than I.

Our front room is all fixed up now.  Brother Floyd lent us two sarongs which
he had put away, and we hung them on the walls for wall hangings, and then we
took some of his picture rolls, and cut out suitable pictures, and put up.  He
had one real ugly Catholic picture of Christ which the saints gave him for a
love present at Terakan, so we took the picture out, and put one in the frame
of Christ stilling the waves, and the disciples in the boat.  Everyone looks
at it who comes in, it is so pretty.  The others are jungle scenes, and might
have been taken almost anywhere at all in Amboina.  People wonder how we had
such pictures in America.  So do I.  Another large one is of Christ and the
woman at the well.  Then we have some smaller pictures which are real
American.

Our place is cozy and comfortable enough, though to get a real rest we have to
go to bed, as we cannot afford rattan furniture like we would like.  They have
a kind of reclining chairs and a table to match; but a set like this would
cost about thirty to forty dollars, and we may go to New Guinea before we need
it.

Monday afternoon:

I have to finish this up, as the boat leaves in the morning.  It comes from
New Guinea en-route to Java, and if they do not have any heavy loading or
unloading, sometimes it does not stay in port long.

Our meeting last night in the church did not seem so good, but the
after-service seemed most profitable, as a man who just came into Pentecost
almost got his baptism, and two Dutchmen, who have come in several times
before to kind of look on and make fun, came in and sat down.  The Lord spoke
to them, and they were very polite to me as they left.  We feel like God is
going to save one or both of them.

Rod went to a native funeral with Shirley, Dad, Floyd, and Brother Siloi
yesterday afternoon, but I was asleep, so they let me take my rest, and I
missed out on it.  I wish you could have read the letter Rod wrote one of his
boy pals at home describing the funeral!  that wasn't enough.  He drew a
picture of it!  well, rod draws so wonderfully that I wish there was an artist
here who could help him with it.  He just seems to come by it naturally.  All
lines, figures, landscapes, still-life, etc.  I hope he can develop it
sometime.  He testified in the meeting saturday night, and when he's
spiritual, he surely does make a good showing for the Lord.  But most of the
time he's too busy.

I wonder how you will be managing, Mother?  I suppose Florence and Robert will
stay with you as long as possible, or else that you went home with Ginger for
awhile.  I realize how lost you will be for some time to come, and I should
think you'd like to take a nice Pentecostal family in with you, and you just
keep a room or two, and let them board you, or some kind of an arrangement
like that.  Maybe you will stay with Florence in L.A.  The only two places
that ever seem like home since we sailed are Grandma's house and Seahurst Park
house.  We suppose the old house at Seahurst will be just about right for poor
old missionaries, if the Lord tarries, and we ever come back.  I know Dad had
been a great care to you, too, these last few years, and you must have a good
rest when you get over missing him so much.  We just can't realize yet that
Dad is gone.  But I always feel so good about him since the Lord gave me that
scripture, and I know he and Uncle Mit and Grandma Prat and all the others
must be having a wonderful time enjoying salvation together until we come.

We got such a dear letter from friends this time.  And so many!  it seems it
keeps us busy between boats just answering letters.  Emma Washburn keeps on
writing to me from Calestoga.  I told her to let me know if Carols still ran
the Calestoga Inn, and would want to publish missionary news from Amboina or
New Guinea.  The secretary for the Pentecostal mission in Calestoga is
Florence Clark, who is a relative of Reir Clark.  Do you know who that is?
She writes me also.

It is lovely and cool the last few days, and we surely are thankful when we do
not have to sweat.  Of course, if we did anything very strenuous, we'd sweat a
lot right now; but just studying, typing, etc., we don't.  The children have
gone to swim again this afternoon, three miles up the mountain.  I just fried
two lovely chickens, which cost about twenty cents American apiece.

We do like fried chicken, and it's so cheap.  Two make us a good meal, and we
always have two vegetables, bread, and gravey with it.

There is such a sweet fruit that tastes just like ice cream.  The name is
suersack.  It is a great big green thing with prickles all over the outside.
Otherwise about like an avocado, only easily four times as big.  You peel off
the outside skin, which is thick, and the inside looks about like a raw
turnip, but is soft and squashy.  There is a pithy center about the size of a
banana in the middle, which you throw out.  Then you squash this white part
all up and get a lot of black seeds out.  It reminds us the most of cotten
with seeds in it for looks, of anything else.  You put a little sugar and ice
with it, and eat it with a spoon, like ice cream.  Our babu, Wilhelmina, puts
chocolate and canned milk with it too, and sometimes it is extra delicious.

There is another fruit about twice the size of avocados, and looks just like
an avocado.  You peel it, and the inside is like a peach, only it has a little
different flavour.

Everything is so spicy, since we live in the Spice Islands.  Nutmegs grow
wild, though they are getting scarcer all the time on account of their
commercial value.

Durian is the thing you have to hold your nose to eat, and to me it tastes
just like raw onions and bananas mixed, and I don't like it a little bit; but
Floyd is used to them now, and loves them.  They stink like manure, and you
can't have one near you in the house without smelling it all over.

They grow what they call "jerut Bali," and anything "jerut," pronounced
"geroot," is citrus.  "Jerut asin" is lemon.  "Jerut Java" is orange.  Well,
jerut Bali is about the size of your head, and the peeling is so thick I can't
hardly manage it; but the inside is just like a grapefruit, only pink, and
much sweeter than grapefruit.  They say that America won't let them import
them, as it would kill the grapefruit industry.  They grow lots of them here.

But lemons here are very small and acid.  Not good at all.

And we haven't seen an orange since we came.  They are imported from Java, and
very high.

We can buy some kinds of squash here, and some of it is very tastey.

The Chinese eat much hot pepper, just like the Mexicans do.  They fix up their
rice with it.  Some of their dishes are very delicious, however.  The ones we
know best are fine cooks, and the women bake bread and cookies to sell.  It
seems no matter how wealthy a Chinese is, they're always earning money.  They
seem to be very rich, yet they bake for the Dutch people, earning money.

Well, I must get my snooze this afternoon, as I have to go to a vandussy with
the Chinese women at five.  That is an auction.  I hope they buy me a nice
rattan set for my front room!  We have not been to an auction yet, and that is
why we are going, as well as to please our friends.  They are coming
wednesday, at nine, to put me up some curtains.  All I hope is that they do
not shut off the breeze and air, as we could not stand it like they do.

Ralph says he wants to read this before I shut it up.  I guess I sent you
pictures of us in native costume with the Chinese ladies.  I can't remember
now.

Much love to you each and all,

                                        Edna.

P.S. We got your letters you sent to Japan.  They came on to Ambon.

End letter.

An excerpt from the letter of june 20, 1938:

I cannot remember whether Ralph had been to see the Resident when I last wrote
or not, but God has given us such favour with the government officials here
that we have permission to go anywhere at all in the Moluccas.  This group of
islands has a thousand islands in it, New Guinea included, and many of them
are very large, and thousands upon thousands of souls await the gospel.  The
Protestant church has touched the shoreline, but interiors have never been
penetrated, and thousands have never heard.  We pray much for God to guide us.
Let us move in His will.  But there is so much to be done!  We could send out
fifty workers this morning if we had them and the finance.  It does not take
much except consecration.  The native workers can live on five to eight
dollars a month.  But we find no sense whatever among the Pentecostal people
here of consecration or evangelization.  Perhaps God will have to send us help
from America and England and Australia.  Well, we know He is able.  We are
laying before the Lord at present should we organize here in the Moluccas and
have a separate work from that in Java?  Should we send out native workers or
white?  Should we try to have a bible school in Amboina?  The need is so
great!  the labourers so few!  you ask prayer that we shall move in God's
will, please.

Love from edna.

End excerpt.

1962

It must have been sometime in March or April of 1962, that
night the big four engined prop-driven American Overseas Airways
plane landed at the Honolulu International Airport with me aboard.
If I remember correctly it was raining, and they announced the temperature
as 72 degrees. That was still back before they had finished the
new airport. It was a Saturday night.
Everything was strange and wonderful to me that night. I was
struck with the scent of flowers in the air everywhere. The bustle
of gay-colored muumuus. The air was wonderful! I was tingling with
excitement. I had dreamed of islands so long!
I got a taxi into town with a businessman (and perhaps some others,
but he was the only one that I remember), and put up at the YMCA, the
new one, at the corner of Atkinson and Alamoana. They gave me a good
room on the fourth floor or so, and to me it seemed so strange to have
the window open and hear the rush of traffic below, and yet be bathed
in that lovely tropical air. A breeze was blowing, and my room was
designed just for this, with latticework on the door, just like that
of a cabin on a ship. There were coconut palms growin@ outside.
Somehow I went to sleep.

When I looked out in the morning a wonderful scene awaited me.
I looked out over the rooftops and saw the Punchbowl, resplend@nt
in the dazzling greens and golds of a Hawaiian morning. The breeze
was still blowing.

After dressing and consulting the map, I set out in search of
the Assembly of God church on foot, and found it at 930 Lunalilo Ave.
It was a quanset style building with a church fromt and stone pillars
along the sides with panes of heavy glass in between. There were mango
trees growing in front. It was early when I walked up the steps and
I had to wait awhile. I don't renember just when, but some Japanese
young people came and sat on the steps with me and talked to me. There
was one little girl that was more talkative than the rest, and I
remember her especially! The smell of mangoes was wonderful to me,
and brought back old memories, like a scent long forgotten often will.
It was the same scent I smelled as a little boy in Australia, when I
used to play out under the Schwartz's hsg mango tree in Brisbane.
I met Vincent, the pastor, and he yet remembered the days of
my father, when he was here on the Evamgel. He took me home with his
family, and after dropping a big older woman off somewhere, we arrived
at his house, high on the eastern side of the Manoa valley. My heart
was thrilled with all the tropic green. So fresh and without the
traces of dust one finds on everything on the mainland (California).
Like an excellent summer day in the northlands. We had to wind on
and on through this green to get to his home.
From there we could see out over the whole of the Manoa valley
area. Spectacular scenery. The cliffs on the Tantalus side. Out over
Honolulu, or back up to where the falls are. He had a big plate-glass
window in the livingroom, and binoculars.

He had a wife and two daughters. The older one was rather heavily
built, and the younger was thin and frail looking. If I remember they
served us some sort of roast that day. Perhaps pork with pineapple.
We talked and talked in the afternoon, but it later seemed that I
wasn't too well received. His wife and daughter seemed to make fun
of his plans to get a boat and go to the Southsea islands with the
Gospel. At least they seemed to display smug smiles and make smug
comments. I didn't like that. I would have agreed to everything he
planned except that he intended to go in with medicine and doctors
as a fromt, and I couldn't buy that, as I believe in exposing the
Gospel or nothing, and also in divine healing.
He asked me why the Mohammedans had made such progress in Indonesia,
and I made a logical reply that I can't even remember now, but
I do remember his quoting it, in church, I believe.
They said that they go swimming once a week, and I said that I
would like to come along, supposing, of course, that they would be
glad for the company. They never said anything more about it. I can't
yet understand all the circumstances involved in their lives, but felt
that they couldn't quite trust me, a feeling I have never quite gotten
used to, since I was always completely trusted on moral matters by my
parents, and when I had lived in Ambon I could walk into just about
any store and charge whatever I wanted.
I also made the mistake of calling him "Vince," which I don't
think the family appreciated. I had never meant to be rude, but my
superiors had invariably insisted on calling them by their first
names wherever I had worked on the mainland. Perhaps things were
different in Hawaii.
At any rate I was never invited to partake of the Fincent's
hospitality again, anB what I had thought might have been the beginning
of a good friendship ended there. I must place this among the
regrets of my life, and feel certain that it must have been a good
deal from that age-old enemy of culture and friendship, misunderstanding.

I had supper with them again, and they drove me to the evening
service and then home.
I think it was next day, Monday, that I trie@ to climb one of
those steep green slopes I had seen. The slope I chose (somewhere
back up Manoa, I think) turned out to be an impossible tangle of that
type of vine-like fern with the stiff stems that we have in Ambon.
Try as I may, I found I could make but little or no progress upward
through this choking vegetation. I finally gave up, and instead of
descending on foot I just rolled down. Descending was so easy and so
much fun. down, down, down: such a soft bed of green!
One night or another I was wearing that s@a@@y white jacket-type
shirt with the low neck and the strip of dark embroidery ribbon running
down along the collar, - the one I thought was for $4.95 but turned
out to be for $14.95 instead, and I was too upset and embarrased to
turn down after I had brought it to the counter that day in that men's
shop in Lompoc, - when somehow or other I became acquainted with a
short, slight bald man named Frank Smith, who I had started talking
to on the way down on the automatic elevator.
For some reason or other he took a shine to me and treated me to
mahi@r@@@2$ku2@
(I can't really remember which but I think it was the
former) for dinner at some fancy place that evening. I think he took
me over the Pali that same night and showed me his little shop.
objects with a primitive flavour. He drove a pick-up. A Ford I think.
Our acquaintance grew and grew. He took me to the International
Market place and treated me to ice-cream. That was the night we talked
to that goodlooking girl that seemed to have some Island blood in her
who was selling aloha shirts. My eyes seemed to be failing me then
already, and I had to watch the way I walked so as not to show it.
We looked at that big canoe built by the Samoan with the lapstrakes,
stern and stem pieces sewn on with sennit cord.
We also went to that beautiful place out on the highway on the
windward side for dinner. The Balihai, I believe. We were served by
women attractively dressed in muumuus. Perhaps that was the day I
helped him some at his shop, and hanging that door on a goodown or
putting a hasp on it, or whatever it was we did. I just handed him
tools, etcetera, and held things.
We also had breakfast at Coco's, where Honolulu ends and Waikiki
begins. He never would let me pay for a thing.
All this time I had been looking for work, and he knew it. I had
applied at the employment service right away, of course, and it was
being arranged so that I could receive my unemployment benefits from
the State of California there, which I later did.
Frank's room was one of the better ones, on the fifth and highest
floor, I believe. I had been up and seen it.
In the afternoons I took advantage of the gym. I worked out with
the weights until I was sweaty, then went for a swim, and dove off
the board. I almost started taking judo.
Then one day (one night, I think), Frank said that he had a job
nish 100 @bnma backed armchairs for them.
I had no place to stay in Kailua, so at his suggestion I went
with him to the pastor of the local A. of G. to see if he might not
know something about what I needed. He was Rev. J. Meiers, and it later
turned out that I was to room and board at their home at 350 Maluniu
St. A house of the older Hawaiian type, build on stilts, and all of
wood with linoleum floors. Perhaps there was hardwood in the living
room, I don't remember. My room was adjoining the livingroom, across
from the steps and entrance. It was either $100 or $150 per month,
I don't remember. At any rate it was very cheap. I do remember that much.
I loved Kailua, and the east wind, and would go wandering down
to the beach with my guitar and look out to sea, and dream of time
imemorial, and the Indies. The wind was so strong that I sometimes
let it play my lonely guitar instead of strumming with my fingers.
The beach was so perfect there, and always more and more and more of
the east wind. I could see far out, the breakers curling over the reef. -

1962 or 1963:

I had dinner at Walter Kahumoku's house last night.  Then we went to choir practice.  And after that, returned to his house for refreshments once more.

She asked me what I thought about different things concerning the universe and the heavens.  I explained to her about the three parts of man and God.  Then we cleared the table, and later sat talking in the living room of his house.

Then he began to relate the different things of his youth to me.  He told me of his father, and that his father had belonged to the shark cult.  He said he remembered his father out gathering the fish after dynamiting the ocean floor.  He said that he and some friends were standing above, on a hill, trying to frighten off the sharks with stones, but that his father had asked him not to.  Then he had seen his father straddling a shark, as though riding the creature.  Walter says that he actually was riding it, but it could be due to his inferior command of the english language.  There were sharks swimming all around and under him, and he was even feeding them with some of the fish he gathered, just as if the sharks were his friends.

Then one day, his father, in perfect health, had gone down and helped some people to pull in and lash a shark.  The shark had tried to warn him by striking him with its tail, but he had not given heed.

That same night, then, after the household had gone to sleep, Walter had heard his father groaning, and bringing the light he found him to be broken out from head to foot with carbuncles.

From then on, his father had had a familiar spirit, and ever after that his mental existence had been a struggle.  He had been treated at Kaneohe, and appearantly had been released.  He would seem all right, and then he would drink again, and you would hear him arguing about himself, fighting this thing off, and telling it to get out and leave.

Walter is a member of the "Gospel of Salvation Church" of Honolulu, and has been saved for many years, and also baptised in the Holy Ghost, so the possibility of error in his statements is very limited, unless the tooth of time has severely gnawed his memory.  And so this is one of the only first-hand reports of this sort of thing that I have ever heard from the mouth of a saint.  I can offer little in the way of explanation.

Monday, April 1, 1963.

I boarded the Wahiawa bus at Aala Park, in honolulu.  I had with me my guitar, a large pack, and also a small explosives pack, into which I intended to put the food-stuffs that I intended to purchase in the town of Makaha.

I was bound for Makua, and the time was probably about 1:00 P.M., Monday, April 1st, 1963.

The Wahiawa bus was old, and the ride shakey, and I felt out of place sitting there in a back side seat, tell-tale pack and guitar beside me.  I had forgotten the locations of the different towns, and all the time I kept wondering if Wahiawa was on the north side of the island, or on the way to Makua, on the south.  It seems I had confused Wahiawa with waipahu.  And so I sat, wondering, until the bus stopped and made a right turn which didn't seem to fit in with my memory of the place.  I stood up and went to the driver to ask, and he stopped the bus, and made vague gestures, and indicated that Makaha was a different way.  I ran back and got my gear and started walking.

I knew then that the way I wanted to go lay closer to the coast.  I walked some miles, and passed the town of waipahu, and reaching the Eva forks saw people vending fruit, which brought back memories of the last time I went to Makua.  That old oriental had seemed to say, "A quarter a dozen," and when I payed, he said, "A dollar and a quarter a dozen."  Then Makua, the blazing sun, the thirst, and the corn was half eaten by worms.

About a hundred yards from the forks I was approaching an old man who seemed to be waiting for something.  A car pulled up, and he got in.  I thought that they were his friends, but they called, so I ran and piled in, gear and all.  A cheap-looking woman was driving.  She had red hair, and her hands were short and stubby.  Her nails were short, and protruded from wrinkled-looking fingers, and were covered with red varnish.  She talked incessantly, and the center of her conversation seemed to be the most abominable profanity.  Beside her sat a man who claimed to be an american indian, and she said that he refused to work.

We seemed to have reached Maile or Waianae, I still don't know which, and that was as far as they were going, so thank you, and we really did appreciate it, you know.

We stopped in front of a gas station, and I stopped to get a drink.  The old man walked on.  He was going to Makaha.  But I was soon up to him, and he stopped me, and told me to wait, and his niece would be coming home from the dentist.  We waited and talked for a good while, but she didn't seem to be coming, so we'd better start walking.  So we walked for maybe a mile, and then his niece pulled up, and we got in the back seat.  It was a black two-door, but I don't know what make.

I felt uneasy sitting there, because I knew how those Hawaiians hate and suspect a "haole," but it wasn't any time before we were in Makaha, and I got out.  I shook hands with the old man, and thanked him and the girl.  I told him I was Joe.  Yes, he called everyone Joe.  Ha, ha!

I bought myself a plastic tarp, some food, and a one-gallon gas can.  The food I placed in the explosives pack, and I filled the gas can with water.  By now the pack was getting pretty bulky, what with all the bedding, water, etc.  I started off for Makua, but it must have been getting on toward 6:00 P.M.  The valleys were filled with mist, and the mountaintops were buried in clouds.  I walked past the residential section of Makaha, and crossed a bridge, and saw some youths coming home from the beach.  One asked me where I was going, and why didn't I camp on the beach here instead of going clear to Makua, and why should I be camping out now? This was hardly the weather.

I passed the ranch, and all the time my soul seemed to long for God.  It seemed that there I could worship again.  As though my soul surged forward of its own will.  There was something in me that tried to escape the confinement of the body then.  That knowledge that mortal man could only reach so far, and then the body had to be left behind.  I knew that I was only partially conscious then.  That lurking somewhere in the shadows beyond was my full mind, which I could never grasp until I left the mortal robe behind and stood unveiled in the glory of the dawn.

Now the dusk had come upon the road, and the wind rose, and glancing back I saw the storm brewing in the twighlight.  A low, dark cloud hovered there above the sea.  And then the rain came.  It came in waves first, and I wouldn't believe in it.  Then it came a little heavier, and I decided that the guitar would be damaged if I didn't cover it up.  So I reached back and got out the plastic tarp.  It was folded, and would not come apart at first, but finally I managed to open it without tearing, and got it over my shoulders just in time.  By then it was pouring, and the wind had risen to fury.

At first I just stood there and made sure that my guitar was covered.  But as it kept raining hard I decided to go on.  I began walking as some cars passed by.  They were funny people, these.  I didn't really want a ride to anywhere.  I had spent many nights in the wilds before, some even rainy, and one more wouldn't hurt me.  I expected it.

But then a very funny thing happened.  I saw the headlights of a car.  Two indefinite-looking yellow blobs in the storm.  It went on past, and I was a good way off the road, trying to keep from getting plastered by the splash.  It was so dark that I didn't think it would be likely for anyone to see me.  But then it seemed that they came back.  I thought they might.  The car pulled up on the opposite side of the road.  "Come and get in with us!"  I ran accross the road and unslung my pack.  Someone in the back seat took my guitar, and I piled in the front.  The driver introduced himself as john, and that in the back seat was mama and Noni.  I tried, but couldn't see any of their faces in the dark.

They had a camp on the beach, and I could stay there.  Did I have any white gas?  that was what they needed.  Oh yes, the boys were on a vegetarian diet, so they'd have to go back anyhow.

We got to the camp, and I opened the door to get out.  There seemed to be some figures standing in the darkness.  Here's one more!  I got out.  "This is Rip, and this is ...,"  and I couldn't for the life of me seem to get either.  I was led to the cabin, and the car went off.

I entered the room, and set down my pack.  It still wasn't raining there.  The room was lighted by a storm lantern, and I realized that they had wanted white gas with that gas can I had water in.  I was assigned a bunk by a youthful-seeming individual, and protested in vain.

Then I was led outside by the same voice, and I followed a cigarette to a wooden bench.  There we sat and talked and became acquainted.  And what was your name again?  well, its really -----, but they call me Malau.  That means monkey in Chinese.

Then the car came with the groceries and a mob of different individuals, one of whom was Benny.  He had sailed in the merchant marine, and been to Singapore, Bombay, and ...  And oh yes, you had already met his youngest daughter over there.  That's Noni.

Then they all left, except for those two former individuals, who now had beer, and sang to the tune of an ukulele till ere I was fast asleep.

And then there was somebody knocking on the screen door, and the very place seemed to shudder.  It seemed ironical to me that they should show so much effort, when all they'd needed to do was give one hard pull and the whole thing would probably come spiralling down on top of us!  I got to my feet, but I couldn't see anything.  I just groped to the door, and fumbled with what appeared to be the latch.  "Just unwind it!" someone shouted.  I grasped the cord I found dangling, and began twisting it around the nail.

The door was open, and I stumbled back to bed.  The room was filled with people, but the two former individuals couldn't seem to get up.  There was a woman, and she sat on a bed to my right.  People were now sitting on all the beds except mine.  I felt out of place.

They got out the booze and started drinking.  Then Beaver started doing something.  I strained my eyes, and saw some sort of form sprawling on the floor.  Beaver seemed to be doing something to it.

The woman on the bed went into hysterics, and rocked back and forth with laughter.  "Get 'im, Beaver! That's it!  Yay! Ha-ha-ha!

I lay there staring stupidly at the two indistinct figures.  Sometimes I saw arms.  Sometimes I could make out a leg.  Beaver was doing something.  It seemed that it must have been something to do with sex, but I couldn't really tell.  Anyhow, by then I was sick with silent rage.  I turned my face to the wall and prayed in anger.  The laughing subsided, and by this time the former two were thoroughly aroused, as much as a drunk can be.  They started singing, and somebody asked about my guitar.  Malau tried to play it, but couldn't seem to coordinate it to the music.  After much tuning, he finally gave up, and they asked me to play.  I re-tuned it, and strummed a little in the classic-flamenco style.  Of course it was very imperfect, but anyway it was music.  Then they sang again.  They sang "Michael Rowed The Boat Ashore."

The spirit of God spoke to me then.  It seemed to be there all the time, but now it came out.  "Why don't you really mean it when you praise the Lord?"  Was that how I said it?  Or was it, "I wish you people could really praise the Lord!  you don't know how wonderful it is when you can really praise him.?"

There was a change in the room then.  In one brief moment hilarity changed into sorrow.  The woman that sat on the bed seemed to moan within herself.  It was the deep, pure sorrow of a lost soul for a moment surging deep and pure, but wretched sorrow, perhaps.  But in that room there was something more shocking than sorrow.  For a moment those mortals had heard the voice of God, and in the shadows of the storm lantern, waning fear was the most startling.  I felt it then for a moment.  Perhaps it was in the people sitting there, but I felt it.  It was as though something invisible had withered and slunk away in teror then.  That thing that had prevailed there in the two writhing figures, and dared to approach me in that place, as though it had tried to return without regard to me.  But a spirit greater than all had strangled and broken it there.

The woman then responded unmasked.  "I wish I could believe that!"

"but you can!  how can you help it?  look at the earth!  at the universe!  anyone can believe it!  it's silly not to!"

"I wish I could believe in him!  I wish I could just praise him!"

"you do!  I knew it when I heard you sing!"

"I know."

"Then you should love Him!"

So we talked.  But in that moment I knew the first reason why I had come to Makua.  This woman and these people needed God.  But above all this woman.  It seemed I knew that from that testimony she would be saved.  And yet I still haven't heard if so.  But it seemed I knew then, and I glorified God from the depths of my being.

I spoke, and the drunk sitting accross tried to argue.  I neglected him and spoke to her, for her need was vital.

Then I felt that I had fulfilled my mission, and I fell silent, and turned my head to the wall again.  I lay there in meditation, but in the background there was a woman who kept saying how she wished she could be like that.  Why were those people always so happy?  How could they have such peace?  "And do you know Spencer?  You know Spencer?  Well, I saw him in church up there talking, and he was glad!  I couldn't understand it.  And, you know, he used to be the worst crook!  But now he's changed."

So they talked, and I remembered Spencer.  They were talking about Al's church.  Spencer, Al, oh yes, he had re-married now.  Atta or Arthur.

And then they started singing again, and they seemed half-hearted.  Especially her.  "I don't feel right to sing church songs.  Come on.  We can't sing church songs while we're drinking like this.  Even I know that!  sing something else."  Then they tried to sing some other cheap songs, but they didn't seem to work at all.  They tried for awhile, but the way they finally ended up was singing old Hawaiian church melodies.  And all this was done in the deepest reverence.  Despite the drunkenness.  They couldn't help it.

Then they talked for some time more, but by this time only she and Rip seemed to be up.  The only other sound was an occasional delirious profanity from Beaver, and the rain.  Perhaps a snore here and there.

I had already turned on my pillow and laughed by then.  I turned on my pillow and laughed at the Devil, and I was overjoyed that God, in his mercy, had brought me there and given me victory.  But it seemed as though life itself was a hollow shell.  An immitation.  I laughed and glorified God for the rain and the wind.  The storm.

She had told me that she thought I could help her, but only God can do that.  "Humble yourself.  You're trying to rebel against something, aren't you?"

"Yes."

She roused her sleeping husband, and they took leave.  It was about 2:00 A.M., April 2, 1963, when they came.  And who knew what time it was now?

"Well, good-night, and I hope you'll pray for me.  She came and took my right hand in both of hers.  "You will now?"

"Yes, always."

And they were gone.

Her name was Frenchy, and his Cobra.

I didn't sleep again, but talked to Malau, who sat and drank until the grey of dawn merged with the muddy surf outside.

Monday, September 2, 1963, Singapore to Bahau by bus.  Spent the night at Bahau Police Barracks.

I got up at about 8:30 this morning, ate breakfast, made preparations, and took the bus downtown the first lap on my journey to Pahang.  There I got the Johore bus, then the Ayer Itam, then the Segamat, then the Gemas, then Rompin.  From Rompin I walked a way into the woods and the night.  After sometime, I got a ride on a truck all the way to Bahau, where I met a fellow named Suppia, who turned out to be a policeman, and so I spent the night there with the fellows at the station.  They were very kind to me, and didn't seem to kick when I couldn't produce my passport, which I forgot in Singapore.  We shot the breeze till late, and made good and lively conversation.  Then Suppua begged off, and we all hit the sack.  Then Balu came, and we two talked on into the night.  So I spent the night at the Bahau police barracks.

Tuesday, September 3, 1963, Bahau to Bukit Rauk.  By foot, land rover, bus, and canoe.  Met the Penghulu, Dir bin Bokhtar, and spent the night with him.

I got up at about 7:30 in the morning, and Suppia had already gone, but Balu was still there, and after excusing himself for a time, he returned, and asked me to join him for breakfast.  This I did, and we feasted on pancakes and curry at a small Indian coffee shop.  After this, I took leave of them, having gone back to bid Suppia farewell.  He had turned out to be a real joker, and a wonderful fellow.  As for Balu, he was more the intellectual type, and I really appreciated him.

I struck out from Bahau, and walked until I had reached well into the rubber groves.  I was stopped by a man on a tractor who had been approaching from the direction of ayer-itam towing a mower, and doing a splendid job of trimming the grass along the roadside.  He asked me where I was off to, and promptly brought out his wallet, and presented this wanderer with 20 cents, and then suggested that it be used for a train ride.  May fortune be returned upon this enthusiast!

Then, later, I had the good fortune of being picked up by a government jup*, who carried me as far as the distance to Ayer-Itam or so.  From there I walked some distance into the forest, and hearing a sound in the forest, I drew my parang from my pack and looked until I saw movement.  I saw a brownish object, and as I watched this "thing," it seemed to be pushing its way up through the bushes.  As the thing stood up, I could see its head, and I realized that what I had been looking at was just an old native in khaki pants.  I spoke to him in Malay, but he didn't understand.  When I said Sakai, however, he nodded his head.

Just then, a red and white bus approached, and stopped, and I embarked for Sungai Lui (40 cents).

From Sungai Lui, I gathered the information that there were Sakai people there, but there were more at Tasek Bera.  I embarked on the Temerloh bus, and after stopping at several towns, we made the junction, where I got off to wait for the bus to Kuala Bera, which is located where the Bera River flows into the Pahang.  On the way, I had the time to do some shopping, as our bus stopped over for 1/2 hour at one village.  There I foolishly bought a spring for my camera which was far too large.  In the process, however, I did get some soap and pomade, for which I paid about 80 cents.  The spring was 30 cents.

I didn't have long to wait at the junction, for the Kuala Bera bus was not long in coming.  I did observe that the place is situated beside a small muddy stream, barely large enough to be navigable by small canoe.  The journey from the junction to Kuala Bera took us along the Pahang, a large and beautiful river, and the conductor sat beside me, and told me how the jungle used to be below the sea, and that the hills were islands.  This was long ago.  He also related to me how a frog, a bridge, and a prince were all turned into stone, and can still be seen today.  For that reason, the place is named Batu Papan, because of the bridge.  

The sun was high as we drew into Kuala Bera, and the conductor told me to follow a Chinese, who was going to Bukit Rauk by canoe.  I walked down toward the ferry, and was called by some Malays, who sat yarning on a wooden platform or table situated under a large tree, which commanded a full view of the river below.  They wanted to know if I wanted to cross.  I had the opportunity of testifying to them and one asked me up to his house for a carbonated drink.  We sat and talked, and the good fellow offered me biscuits, which made a good combination with the drinks.  There was no ice, however, and so the drinks weren't too enjoyable in themselves.  We waited for half a day, and then finally I got a ride in a government canoe with two men (Malays) who had come from tumerloh to work at clearing the forest for $3.10 a day.  It had already started to rain at the landing of Kuala bira, but as we pushed off, it settled into a more or less steady drizzle which lasted all the way to Bukit Rauk.  The river stretched before us in many green bends that faded into the duller shades of distance in the mists that hovered like steam over the water.  A strange and interesting phenomenon.  We all paddled together, and as we went, we passed many native canoes, and my companions whispered to me"Orang Asli".  The river varied in width from 30 to 50 yards.  My companions were Abu, in front, and Busu, steering.  The Bera is deep and muddy, and here and there we saw different types of traps in the water.  We also saw a monkey trap on the shore.

My companions dropped me off at a landing at the base of a small hill, and a couple of the people came down, and led me to the "Penghulu's" house, the last row up before the jungle.

The Penghulu turned out to be a slight old man with grey hair fringing his bald forehead, and he allowed me to dwell in his house that night.  I climbed up the ladder upon his request, and found a small room with bamboo floors and bark walls, the whole thing raised about four feet off the ground on stilts.  I found it difficult to see in the lamplight, but among the faces, I thought I saw one or two women, a combination of lines that spelled beauty in the fading shadows.

All this time I had never been able to get away far or long enough to be able to relieve myself.  Indeed, the urge had been present even before my departure from Kuala Bera, and I never did succeed until late that night.  Despite all this, these are wonderful people, you know, but they just don't believe that white men are bound to the same habits as brown.
We talked, and I drank water and ate a piece of bread given to me by my friend --of Kuala Bera.  I was beginning to speak of God by the time the Malay guru poked his head in the door.  He wanted me to come and see the "school" then, so off we went.  He also invited me to his house, but by the penghulus persistance, I stayed with him instead.

Wednesday, September 4, 1963.  Bukit Rauk to Long's house and back by Dir's canoe.  Met Long, Anam and wife, and Long's wife.  Was asked to stay and teach them.

We were a bit lazy this morning after the conversations of the night, and so i'm not sure just when we got up, but i'm sure it was still early by Western standards.  I spent some time at my diary, and then got down to the brass tacks of the Semalai language.  I took notes for a long time, and still I don't think I got all I needed, but as man can only do so much at a time, that is, unless he has a more specialized training than mine.

There were women in the house, and these dressed without much regard for anything but the most elementary aspects of the idea.  Still, in all this, they had an unaffected sort of beauty that could not help but capture my admiration.  In what I was doing, that is in studying the language, they seemed to better understand my intentions than the men.
After this I took leave of the Penghulu and took a tour of the village.  We followed along the ridge, for the village was built on a hill, and soon we found a small group of people sitting around what seemed to be some sort of rolling apparatus, and drawing nearer I saw that a man was sitting on a platform between two sets of these rollers needing  a mass of white stuff that had the appearance of bread dough.  It was rubber.  Thus he worked until the material was approximately rectangular in shape and about one inch in thickness.  Then he pressed it through the rollers while his wife l__ned.
I was surprised to see that his wife wore no covering over her breasts except for the baby's sling, her only other clothing being a sarong from the waist down.  The skin of her back was covered with some sort of skin disease, which produced unattractive white spots here and there.  Beside the other rollers sat a handsome young woman in a real serong, her only garment except for a gold chain around her neck, and nothing over her shoulders or the upper part of her back and breasts.  She seemed astoundingly like some nymphh from gauguin's paradise in the flesh.

Returning to the Penghulu's house, I went in and prepared to leave, but the old man detained me, saying that I should stay for the midday meal.  So I waited and ate with him, and we had canned sardines with rice.  I also had opportunity to taste the tapioca flour, which tasted a good deal like sago flour, but still do not know just how it is made.  That morning however, the Penghulu had shown me a bundle of sliced tapioca root soaking in the stream.  He also showed me a large tortoise which he kept tied to a stake in the water.  The brute must have exceeded a yard in length, and its back also arched quite high.  These are part of the semalais diet.  He also showed me the blowgun his brother had purchased from another tribe about 20 years earlier.  It seems the semalais didn't make their own.  It was probably 2 or more yards long, 1.5 inches in diameter, and flanged to form a mouthpiece at one end.  The whole length of the thing was taped with some sort of cloth dipped in _____ and wound round.
After our reppast, we took leave of the household (at least I did), and set out for the stream.  The old man had insisted that he should accompany me to the guru's house, but I had overheard him saying the name of Bujae several times, and so was not surprised when we passed the guru's landing without stopping.

Thursday, September 5, 1963.  Bukit Rauk to Kuala Bera by canoe.  Bus to Temerloh.  Contacted Mother by phone there, and was promised Alfred would come if possible.  On to Bentong by bus.  Bentong to K.L. on banana truck, to Jalan Gasing Petaling Jaya by bus.  Reestablished acquaintance with Osgoods.  Met ...  Spent night at Osgood's home.

Friday, September 6, 1963.  Breakfast with Osgoods.  Alfred arrives.  Chapel at the school.  Lunch out, and shopping.  K.L. to Temerloh by bus with Alfred.  Met 2 china inland missions women at Temerloh.  Slept in clubroom offered us by a local Chinese member.

Saturday, September 7, 1963.  Temerloh to Kuala Bera by bus.  Kuala Bera to Bujae's landing by canoe rented from Awang at $1 per day.  Received and fed by Anam and wife.  Slept with Long.  We ate lizard for first time.

Sunday, September 8, 1963.  Service in the morning.  Very informal.  Was forced to behead chicken between singing and preaching.  Ate chicken for lunch, and returned canoe to Kuala.  I in one canoe, Alfred with Petyotyot steering in the other.  Arrived back at dusk.  Meeting in evening.  (Sermons:  morning:  The Sower, The Straight Way(John B.)  The Feast.

Evening:  The Rich Man and Lazarus.

Monday, September 9, 1963.  A treck to the hill and the Batu River and back.  Then well-digging.

Tuesday, September 10, 1963.  Well-digging.  Service in evening.  Preached on baptism of Holy Ghost, and prayed with them.  No immediate result.

Wednesday, September 11, 1963.  Carried rice from longs field hut.  Stayed home with sore feet.  Alfred went with Anam and brought home many gandarias.

Thursday, September 12, 1963.  To trail by canoe, by foot to road in company of Al and Petyotyot.  Bus to Durian Tawar and Mengkarak alone.  Met Jit Sing and wife at Mengkarak.  Lunch and supper with them.  To Singapore by night mail.

Friday, September 13,1963.  Arrival at Singapore.  Station to house by bus and foot.  Rest at house.  Service at Ku's house in evening.  Proposed Mr. Ho accompany me to Malaya.

Saturday, September 14, 1963.  Downtown to shop.  Bought tools.  Mother feint, forced to return early.  "Christ's Ambassadors" at Bethel and Faith.

Sunday, September 15, 1963.  Fever gone.  Still weak.

Tuesday, September 17, 1963.  Fever still gone.  Getting strong.

(Transcribed by Julie Belina, 11/22/89 and 11/24/89).

Semalai Song:

berkom tuhan yesus
berkom k^ s^mbru
k^ s^mbru t^m yesus
t^ yesus
k^ s^mbru

(From Sungai Bera aboriginies, Pahang, Malaya).



5553 | 332 | 22323325565
5353 | 3432|

titnox jaknok yesos lax
kubus lax dosax ji rom
dosa ye no titnox jrojros
pertyaya in jesos

titnox juros, tuhan panggil
injix, dos in kuhtyu
boima tunggu yix
jro jros
pertyaya inkun

The 1965 material contains transcriptions of original, hand-written entries, transcribed by Julie Belina, October-November,1989.  This must have later been verified by electronic scanning, because it is preceded by this note: "The following scanned using dot-matrix setting.  Underlines were first used to mark questionable scan results.  They were later used to surround underlined words."

Notes about journal entries for January 1965: In the original I seem to have spelled the name of the East Indian man "Morley" instead of "Moreley," and the wood "baranti" instead of "meranti."  I also seemed to have written "calking" instead of "caulking."  The part about "lunch with John So, from Customs," was not clear in the original, so I really have no idea what it meant.

January 1, 1965.

Discouragement after rough night at Ramunia.  Sandbags rotten.  Boat
leaking.  Sailed all day to Pengerang.

January 2, 1965.

Pengerang to Singapore.

Sailing past kelongs all day.  Stopped by patrol.  Saw swordfish jump.
Music on the radio.

David Chin met me at Kallang River.

My body covered with what Mrs.  Crosby called "salt blisters."  Seemed to
get them wherever my skin chaffed against the boards.

Sunday, January 3, 1965.

To church in morning.  To Crosbys'.  Crosby helped in afternoon to move
boat upstream.

Monday, January 4, 1965.

To R.B.'s for lunch and visit.

Letter to Mother.  Bought seven pounds of round-steak for Crosbys.  Marge
made me a piece.  They don't know how to prepare steak.  She fried it in
deep oil.

My mast was evidently broken by a big tongkang, which came in from Siam
during my absence, for it was snapped off just at the iron hoop that the
stays were fastened to.

Tuesday, January 5, 1965.

Mailed passport to Butcher.  Painted boat.  Arranged my books for pick-up
by Moreley & Co.

Collin and Marge brought pump.

John Gunasagaran came.

Letter from Mother with check.

Wednesday, January 6, 1965.

Painted deck.  Dried sails.  Wrote Mother.

Thursday, January 7, 1965.

Applied second coat of paint.  Moreley didn't show up.  Found out later
that he couldn't find me.

Friday, January 8,  1965.

Met Moreley at Calvary church.  Stored books for M$3 per month.  M$4 for
pick-up.  My paint  job damaged.

Saturday, January 9, 1965.

Brought boat.  Unloaded with a tongkang's block and tackle, dropping it
all into the black waters of the river.  Put extra wood on cabin.  Got
boat part way up on land.

Sunday, january 10, 1965.

Caulking and tarring being done by Chan and other carpenter.  Extra nails
being added to planking.  This meranti wood they use swells a great deal
when wet,and the planking had come so loose in the beating it got in the
channel that you could slide match-box wood between the planks and frames.

Monday, January 11, 1965.

Tarring and caulking completed yesterday for M$30.  Put boat in the water
again this afternoon.

Tuesday, January 12, 1965.

Tried to put ad in the paper to sell my boat.  Failed.  Went to see
Marge,and met Paul.  Testified.  David arrived, of all people.  He is the
one that was with me on the boat for awhile, but turned out to be
good-for-nothing.  Went home.  Bought mast,and started work.

Wednesday, January 13, 1965.

Finished mast.  Its diameter too small.  Found my stays missing.
Apparantly stolen while the boat was being caulked and I had everything
piled  on the wharf.

Thursday, January 14, 1965.

Tried to get ballast.  Brought seven young men and sailed down river and
out into harbor with only clothesline wire for stays.  She wouldn't sail
properly,and all I ended up with was a charge of M$11 for towing her back.
 Discouraged and disappointed.

Note from memory, 12/31/87: I remember this day, when we almost got rammed
by a huge tongkang, which saw us and altered course at the last moment.
The breeze was light.  For some reason, it seems we  could not get
underway, and we had to just sit there drifting while the tongkang
(chinese junk) bore down upon us.  She approached from the east, which I
remember as being off to our port.  She veered slightly to port, moving at
perhaps all of 1.5 knots, and we beheld a marvelous sight.  As I remember
it, it was an old Chinese man wearing blue shirt and baggy, black pants.
In his mouth was a pipe, and he held a sheet rope in his hand.  He looked
as if he had been holding that pose for the last thousand years, and with
the heavily-burdened tongkang moving so slowly, it made me think of how
long their sea voyages must last, and of what patience they must have.
This one was probably laden with a cargo of pickled cabbage (achai),
packed in urns (guchi), from Siam.  The empty urns would either be sold
for M$0.10 each, or broken to smitherenes.  Large plots used to be strewn
with just such pot-sherds in Singapore, because there was often nothing
else that could be done with used urns.  I noticed such potsherds on the
Faith Church Assembly of God property at Kim Keat road.

Friday, January 15, 1965.

Went with R.B.  to the American Embassy, Immigration, and the bank,
borrowing US$410.  Treated  R.B.  to lunch at the American Club.

Went to see both Matthew Yang and Sister Neighbour, but both not home.

Saturday, January 16, 1965.

Very strong wind today.  Slept some.  Treated Austin Gomez to ice cream at
the pleasant shop on the east of Crosbys' house.  Showed him my
travellers' checks.

Sunday, January 17, 1965.

Slept at Austin's.  Refused to lend him M$1 to go to church.

Went to church at Calvary.

Got a letter from Mother at R.B.'s, and had lunch there.

Had dinner with Ahmed, and He took me to see Sister Neighbour, who was
sick (if I remember right), and I prayed with her in front of him.

Note added 12/31/87: Ahmed was a Malay policeman who lived on the ground
floor of the same apartment house as Austin Gomez.  It was an apartment on
the right as you turned seaward from Mountbatten Road onto Kampung Kayu
Road.  The address was Kampong Kayu Road, and it was on the west side of
the street.  I think the apartment house belonged to the police.  Austin
wasn't a policeman, but he lived with a Chinese lad named Elvis, who was.
Austin and Elvis lived at 33J, I believe, which would have been the tenth
floor.

I think I first met Ahmed when he came malingering around my boat,
probably snooping about for illegal drugs, namely opium, which was a
problem with the Chinese tongkang people.

Monday, January 18, 1965.

Cleaning up the boat.  Went to Katong post office, but it was closed for
the holidays.  There was no mail.  Found my stove was stolen.  Haris came
again.  Austin Gomez came.  To Ahmad's in PM.

Tuesday, January 19, 1965.

Slept well, but am getting a sore throat.  Feeling spiritually distressed.
 Had to move boat.  Haris was waiting on my return from breakfast.  Rain.
Stored goods.  R.B.  arrived with my Indonesian visa stamped in my
passport, good for three months.  A visitor's visa.

Wednesday, January 20, 1965.

Thai consulate.  Cholera clinic.  Straits Times.  High Street.  Getting
all squared away for my journey.

Thursday, January 21, 1965.

I slept at Elvis' last night.

Ad in paper.  5:00 PM, and no response.  Painted all day.

Friday, January 22, 1965.

Painted cabin interior.  Went to see Crosby family off, but it seems their
plane was just leaving as I arrived.  I climbed up to the balcony, and
only hope they saw me.

Went to Tommy Barnett meeting, and felt it was good.

Saturday, January 23, 1965.

Reading and painting boat.  Moved boat back out.  Cold still a bit bad.

Austin Gomez went to Victoria Theater with me to hear Tommy Barnett.

Sunday, January 24, 1965.

Morning service at Calvary.  Evening at Victoria Theater.  Both Austin and
Elvis came with me.  I couldn't detect any response.

Monday, January 25, 1965.

Painted decks.  Tried to get someone to watch the boat for me while I am
gone to Indonesia, but had no success.

Elvis stood up during altar-call last night.  He seems to be really
sincere about following the Lord.  I sang and read from Word to him today.

Tuesday, January 26, 1965.

Elvis busy memorizing vast portions of John 1 from the Gospel of John that
I gave him.

Moved boat.  Went to town.  Customs.  John Soh, from customs.  Lunch with
Austin and Elvis.  Received a letter from Alfred Ang.

Wednesday, January 27, 1965.

A man came to see my boat.  I bought my train ticket to Bangkok.

Thursday, January 28, 1965.

Left Singapore at 8:10 A M.  Crystal-clear morning.  Roast chicken for
lunCh.  Saw Alfred Ang in Kuala Lumpur, and talked with him at coffee shop
at station.

Left in the night, and arrived at Mertajam at dawn.

Friday, January 29, 1965.

Left in the night, and arrived at Mertajam at dawn.

Through northern Malaya and southern Thailand.  Train grew overcrowded
toward evening, and returning from the dining car, I found my place taken
by a woman.

Saturday, January 30, 1965.

Spent night sitting on a Time magazine near the end of a coach.

Met a Rev.  Lewis, from C.I.M., on his way to Bangkok to study.  Went back
to his coach.  He is the one doing the Malay radio work for FEBC, I
believe.  The program with the poetry.

Arrived at Bangkok in early afternoon.  Went to YMCA  Got permission from
Pauline to use bathing facilities with the agreement that if I couldn't
get on a plane today, I would spend the night.  Had my first bath in four
days.  Had been wearing tight new jeans, and developed itch in the crotch.

Found out that Thai has a flight tomorrow, but Garuda has one tonight,
although tourist class is all booked up.  They said I could come on out
anyhow, and that if someone didn't make it, I could have their seat.  It
finally turned out that they let me on first class for a tourist-class
fare.  The plane was to depart from Bangkok at 8:00 PM, and I was at the
airport, But true to Indonesian procrastination, we never got off till
12:30 A M.

While waiting for the plane, I sat down in the lobby, and wrote the
following:

(Joe: A hand-written note says, "edited and altered some".)

"I have arrived at Bangkok International Airport after two nights and as
many days aboard Malaysian and Thai Rails from Singapore.

I left Singapore on the morning of Thursday.  It was one of those golden
mornings that only happen in Malaya.  The air was clear and cool, and a
stiff breeze was blowing.

We swept on to Kuala Lumpur, where I saw Alfred Ang again, and then on
into the night till Bukit Mertajam, and changed trains.

All day long, I was awestruck anew by the mountains of northern Malaya and
southern Siam.  Monstrous limestone cliffs rising out of an endless sea of
rice fields like fantastically rugged islets, covered with untouched
jungle, so that you wondered if each might not have a name.

And then on into the gathering gloom.  Hadjai, Thongsong.  Wretched night.
 My seat taken by some Thai girls.  No place to sit or lie, so I spent the
night on my latest issue of Time, which protected my rear from the filth
of the floor.

Arrived at Bangkok noon today, and am now leaving on Garuda, at 11 PM.

This is the final sequence in my long journey to the Indies."

Sunday, January 31, 1965.

Arrived at Kemayoran in the early morning by a Garuda Convair 990 jet.  No
one was there to meet me, as no one knew when I was to come.  I had no
Indonesian money, and had to get a new international vaccination card, the
woman said, for which I was forced to pay with a couple of handkerchiefs
or so.  I had only a small valis with me.  Only one pair of long jeans,
and a pair of Levi cotton slacks, bought on High Street.  I had no way of
getting anywhere, and no telephones at my disposal, and having a very hard
time with my eyes.  After some time, a young Garuda employee, Bob Lasut,
lent me rp2000, after asking about me and hearing my story.  With rp500 of
this, I got as far as Pecenongan, where it was still so dark I could
hardly begin to see.  Walking up Gang Seha, whose bald head should I spot
in the window but Martin Thenu's.  He was evidently up doing some early
morning homework.  I thought it was Stephanus at first, he has gotten so
bald since I saw him last.  He took me to Coas' place by beca, where I
met Eng and the Coas.  They welcomed me happily.  Who should be at the
new Batutulis church as speaker that morning but Morris!  Embraced him.
Also saw Au (Augustina Siwabesi) Kaihatu.  Hugged her.

Staying at Coas'.  Almost blind, what with tiredness.  Ineke leading me
around (to church).

Monday, February 1, 1965.  With Morris and Fred Duncan, who is going to
take Parson's place at Ternate.  Petersons' in evening.  Met Meiers.  Went
with Morris and got Ketcham.  Took him to Meiers'.  He left again that
same night.

Tuesday, February 2, 1965.  Rude awakening! To bandung with Duncans and
Eng Hoat.  With Joyce and the kids.

Wednesday, February 3, 1965.  Ais Pormos came.  Tomasoa.  Preached at the
evening service.

Thursday, February 4, 1965.  Morris departed.  Preached at the prison.
Wonderful response.

Friday, february 5, 1965.  Eng Hoat went to get money.  Then he took
Duncans and Joyce to register.  Practised with Duncan's guitar (Gibson, I
believe).  Listened to Carlos Montoya record.

Saturday, February 6, 1965.  Study.  Joyce made bread.  Preached at C.A.s
in evening at the church.  The Spirit moved wonderfully.

Sunday, February 7, 1965.  To Jakarta with Eng Hoat.  I missed the
Ambonese who had waited for me at the church.  Met Tet.  Morris didn't
come till evening.  Am staying with Coas.

Monday, February 8, 1965.  Took off for Makassar by plane but had trouble
and plane had to return.  Arrived at Makassar on toward noon, Makassar
time.  The Kairupans were at the Makassar airport.  Kairupan was leaving
for Java, if I remember right.  I met Brother Bliss again.  He took me in
to Makassar in his station wagon, together with those nationals attending
the CMA conference.  They couldn't take me in as they were filled up.

I had a talk with Leo, Tante Netty's son, in the evening.

Tuesday, February 9, 1965.  I am staying with Tante Net at the old place.
To the waterfront with Allen.  No ice cream at Toko Nam.  Spoke on faith
and Elisha and the invisible army at the church (in the upper room).  They
are having troubles in the church with Kairupan evidently chief cause.
Surprised at the hatred that exists in the country.

Wednesday, February 10, 1965.  Allen departed.  I spoke on 1 John 4 at the
evening service.  Was begged to eat at Kairupans' after service, but
refused.

Thursday, February 11, 1965.  Aci and Martha and Lis came.  Lis brought
chicken.  Mrs.  Kairupan brought papaya and bananas and Bread.

Friday, February 12, 1965.  Spoke again, on lust and fruit of the Spirit.
Flight again delayed.

Saturday, February 13, 1965.  To GIA again.  Flight confirmed for Sunday
this time.

Sunday, February 14, 1965.  To airport.  No plane after all the work of
getting down to Mandai and "daftaring" myself.

Monday, February 15, 1965.  Mandai again.  Helped a bank clerk who was
overweight by putting some of his things on my ticket.  He is a Moslem
from Wakal or someplace.  (1993 note: This man was actually from Sawaii.
He worked at the Bank 1946, in Ambon).  We actually flew to Ambon this
time.  It was a beautiful day, with white clouds and blue mists.  Ji Nam
was on the plane with me.  I sat beside a Drs.  returning from Java after
several years' absence.  We had lunch aloft, and it was very good.
Gado-gado, krupuk, coffee,and a banana.  We flew over Buru and Ambelau.

Ambon!  Beloved Ambon.  Couldn't stand to wait around at Laha for more of
the old grind, so I just started walking.  Like in a mystic dream.  The
forest spoke to me.  Ambonese women passed me, all dressed up in
sarong-kabaja.  Walked all the way to RumaTiga.  Boy and girl on bike.
Children asking me for cigarettes.  Thinking I was Russian some boys
swimming offered to duck me (in Ambonese).  So beautiful, So unreal.  The
view of rolling hills: small mountains and water in the afternoon
sunshine.  Got a ride on a Jeep from Rumatiga to Kate-Kate.  I Arrived at
twilight and Bill Brown greeted me from the verandah just as if I always
came in like that.

Tuesday, February 16, 1965.  With Oce.  Spoke at chapel.  To Ambon.
Police.  Immigration.  Lateri.  Went for swim.  Found out about taboo.(No
mixed bathing).  Talked to Keri after church.

Wednesday, February 17, 1965.  Tinus and Lena.  Others.  Kate-Kate.
Talked to Keri in a perahu as he was leaving to go fishing and I was
goofing around (in Esaf's perahu, I believe).  Then later at his house.

Thursday, February 18, 1965.  To Ambon again.  Saw Tante Eng.  Departed
for Leksula on B.O.  #57.  Riptides bad off Cape Alang.  Lost a sack of
rice and I was fearful we might lose some passengers.  had to turn back
off Pulau Tiga, listing and leaking.  Anchored in Labuan Tapi.  Fell
asleep in Pilot-house, and nearly fell off bench and through door except
that No Behuku(ex-raja's son) detained me with his arm.  Tough night.  We
drifted in near the rocks.  The boat was pitching badly at anchor.

Friday, February 19, 1965.  Tried again, and succeeded in crossing the
strait.  The wind was strong from the north.  There was lots of spray.
Everything was wet and salty.  We reached Namlea in the evening, after
passing through showers.  I bought some gogos-es.  Slept on bench.

Saturday, February 20, 1965.  Left in the morning.  Stopped at Simi, and
Wamsisi.  We arrived at Leksula late at night.  Lena had been seasick all
the way I was traveling with Lena and Tinus.  Petu Tama came and got us In
his canoe.  Saw Apong, Bapa Temi, Mama Mura, Isjbak, and Oom Te.  The kids
were crowding around and into the house and gawking at me.

Sunday, February 21, 1965.  Preached in the morning service after singing
Intan-Intan Dan Permata.  Talked about the work being like a kebun, where
the jungle would sprout up again if it were not continually cleared.
Weeping spirit.  Bert cried and cried.  I laid hands on him and prayed
with him.  Visited with Martin Lesnusas.  I ate lunch at Oom Chor's, where
I am staying.  Talked with Bapa Temi.  The church board met in the
afternoon.  Bapa Temi spoke in the evening service.

Monday, February 22, 1965.  Checked in at the government offices.

Semuil (Emo).  Went to EnBotit stream and bathed.  It was too late to go
on to the beach.  I gave Oom Chor Rp2,000.

Tuesday, February 23, 1965.  Breakfast and visit at Martin Lesnusa's.
Strange weariness in my body, like hunger.  Went off kasbi at the evening
meal.  Tried to reach En' Botit beach again this afternoon but failed.
Preached on fear in the evening service.

Wednesday, February 24, 1965.  Bananas for breakfast.  Coffee.  Strange
sensation of darkness "  folding in on me" to mold me into the same shape
as the natives.  Must be comradship.  It seems that a day or two after my
arrival at Leksula  I began to feel a strange weariness come over me.  At
first we ate rice, but I went more and more onto an herb diet after I
found that rice was something of a luxury here, and I was unwilling to
take the pig's share.  My weariness has slowly increased, and it occurred
to me that our diet consisted largely of boiled tapioca.  I recalled that
I had read that certain peoples of Latin America were incapable of work
because of their low protein diet.  The article, however, had also
mentioned that tapioca had been a major ingredient in their diet, and
knowing that tapioca is a poisonous plant, I supposed that my difficulties
might have arisen from ppoison built up in my system due to an overdose of
tapioca.  Last night our diet consisted of tapioca, peanuts and shredded
tapioca leaves and coconut meat.  I partook of the last two but abstained
from the former.  This morning I had 2 fried bananas and one cup sweetened
coffee, without cream.  It is now mid-morning, and I am still extremely
weary.  If my difficulties were actually from poisoning, I feel that the
symptoms should have begun to subside by now\ so it is my belief that this
weariness must be because of my present low protein diet.  Tinus has also
complained of weariness.  When I questioned Petu Tama he said he often
felt weary ("lombo") or soft.  Here are my personal symptoms:  uncanny
weariness, light-headedness or dizziness, tending toward optical black-out
if I suddenly stand up, craving for protein yeilding foods, like fish,
meat, eggs, etc.  I also have a bad taste in my mouth, bad breath, and a
metallic sort of tasting phlegm, but feel these may come from other
causes.  If i recall correctly, this "metallic" taste was already present
before departure from Ambon.

I feel that our work here at Leksula has suffered from this cause a great
deal, and, if I am correct, the reason behind many failures may be simply
malnutrition.  I also recall that Yom, who was by far the greatest
preacher ever at Leksula, was also a cunning hunter, and that Temi, the
apostle to the wilderness has always had meat in his diet when I have been
with him.

Thursday, February 25, 1965.  Felt stronger today after eating some dried
fish I bought at a Chinese shop and brought home.  Walked along the beach
from Leksula and reached En' Botit beach.

Friday, February 26, 1965.  Went to En'Botit again with Oom Chor this
time, who was drying his copra.  Had long talk with him at his hut in the
forest.  Lesnusa and his little boy Alfi today.  We went bananas.  I
spoke on wisdom in the evening service.

Sunday, February 28, 1965.  Preached in the morning service.  Went
visiting with Emo.  Felt no annointing to preach in the evening service so
Tinus spoke.

MARCH 1, 1965.
Don't remember about today.

March 2, 1965.
Copied Jom's letters until noon. Went to pray in the church but
was disturbed by kids. Went back into the hills and prayed in a
plantation. Preached on the Ten virgins in the evening service.
Argued with Martin and Tinus who think doors have to be kept closed
during prayer service. Told them that we would be a second Gereja
Protestant in a few years.

March 3, 1965.
Went to Bert's. We made plans to leave for Kawiri at three in
the morning. Ate at Emo's.

March 4, 1965.
Didn't get off last night, but hope to leave tonight instead.
Went to En' Botit with Martin Lesnusa. Out to En' Botit Isle. We
found Amer at Martin's family coconut plantation, where we broiled
some of the fish and baked some green bananas and ate them with him
in the forest. Bert Solisa, Amo and I left for Kawiri in Bert's
big kole-kole late in the night. The sky looked dark to my companions,
as if a bardaya were threatening, so we put in at Enbotit Isle,
where there is a fine little stretch of beach on the landward side.
We had to backtrack some to get there, but it was worth it because,
contrary to Enbotit Beach, the islet has no mosquitos or gnats
whatsoever. A really fine place to rest. We lay talking on the sand,
until my two companions fell asleep. Amo talked like if everything
were fine with him spiritually, but I later learned that nothing
could be farther from the truth. He talked about the shortcomings
of everyone in the church (if I still remember correctly). I stayed
awake, and had to rouse them when the kole-kole started getting washed
around in the surf. I couldn't see a thing, of course.

Friday, March 5, 1965.
We paddled on sometime in the wee hours, and coasted mile after
mile under Buru's ponderous cliffs in the darkness until a
spectacular Moluccan dawn burst flaming from behind the jutting spires
behind us. We arrived off that stretch of rocky beach known as Kawiri
at about seven or eight in the morning.
Thanks to the timing of
Bert and Amo, we made it in through the surf to the mouth of the
little stream and were ashore at last. My wallet had gotten wet so
I rinsed it in the fresh water that flowed sparkling over the pebbles
in the morning sunlight. I was led up to Bert's missing brother's
house and stayed there. He went off in a perahu called the Immanuel
and has never come back. His wife is part Chinese, and comes from
Lateri. I went to see Behukus' house and saw No and his father. I
think I saw Harold that day too. His home is in a different apartment of the same house as the missing brother's home.

Saturday, March 6, 1965. Strange behavior. Warnings about discretion. Had been drying my
money that got wet in the stream. Bert off to the fields all day.
Terrible feeling of being incessantly watched. Can't even bathe
alone, but am always watched. Every move I make. People completely
tactless. Whole village (men folk) turns out to watch me bathe, and
make comments on my private parts in Buruese. I am suffering from
the jockstrap rash I got on the train from Singapore to Bangkok. Horribly
embarrassing! and none of them has the slightest regard for my feelings.
I could every bit as well have been an animal. To rebuke them
for this did no good, I later discovered. They are completely
shameless. (I didn't write all of this at the time, as I was still willing
to justify the Ambonese then. I used to have great respect for them.)

Sunday, March 7, 1965.
I went to the protestant church. The meeting was terribly dry and long. I found
the bamboo flutes and black coats interesting, however. Brilliant
sunshine this morning.

Monday, March 8, 1965.

Went to the Ex-Raja Chorneles Behuku's for a chat. I took off
for Tifu, much against everybody's advice (as if I regarded that
type of advice). It was a beautiful day. The sun was blazing in a cobalt sky.
There was fantastic scenery. The path led over big rocks during the first part of the way.
Then it led out into the
break, where savannah stretches back into the high mountains of the
interior.

On the trail near a little stream between the grasslands, I met
a Mohammedan gentleman wearing a songko.  He was some sort of "kepala
Kampong" somewhere, I think, and he said that he knew my parents from way
back.

I was out-of-sight of the beach till Tifu Bay.   Tifu bay is a
spectacular sight, like Hanauma Bay, Oahu, only bigger.  I stopped, and
sketched the bay while I was still high above the final descent to the
canoe landing, up where the grass had been burnt off.

I met Tinus' brother
at the canoe landing on the opposite shore.  Had to "yoo-hoo" for a canoe
for a long time before anyone would come to pick me up.

If I remember
right, it was from one of the Butonese perahus lying at anchore that a boy
finally came and fetched me in a kole-kole.
In the meantime I had gone in for a swim.

If I remember correctly it was today that I
ate at the marinyu's house, and he and his wife were just preparing
to leave, for Leksula, I think.

Tuesday, March 9, 1965. Chills at night. Fever. I didn't know it, but this was my first
taste of malaria. My first round. Fever gone in the morning.  Climbed around a bit on the little islet near the north
shore. Went exploring where the fresh water comes out under the
cliffs. Relieved self and rested on the little stretch of beach
bay ar
there. go go ed a sea turtle. (Am staying with him at his relatives.
Ate some blimbings and pamelo (citrus). Hett"A@@ @ @@@@a*@@-s@-n@gh@.
Tinus arrived on his way to Kawiri. I was wroth with him for coming,
as he claimed that he came to prevent me from going into the interior,
as I had planned to do, and everyone was opposed to it. I had planned
to go up from Tifu. As if it were his business to stop me from
doing a bit of hiking on this little island, if I wanted to. Can't
understand why these people always want to prevent you from seeing
the interior of their island. Tinus also had other business, which
was probably the real cause of his coming. He probably just wanted
to be the big hero that brought that "American kid" back. @ @X@@S
didn't appreciate that. Feverish again in the night.

Wednesday, March 10, 1965. If Tinus couldn't stop me the fever did. Same old story. No place
to releive myself. Tried to make it to the beach, but was shouted
at by the natives, who have no regard whatsoever for the feelings
of others, it seems, at least not a white man's. It became a public
affair, and in the frustration and confusion and burninœ anger I
couldn't possibly find where I was going. I was so frustrated and
driven by their behavior that I took my bag and left. I felt almost
insane. I don't think I had ever been treated with less dignity in
all my adult life than here in the Buru I loved. (Or thought I loved).
No, I still love Buru, but hate humiliation and stupidity. If I was
another man there most likely would have been a good fight that day.
Their treatment is inhuman, and they seem completely ignorant of
their rudeness (I write all this later). I was still trying not to
look at whole races of people then, but at individuals. I think I
would have swam if I had no other way to get across that bay that
day, but a Binongko lad or two took me across in a kole-kole, for which
I payed them well. I know of no way you can walk around Tifu Bay.
Those sheer cliffs in back are where the ancient Garuda used to
live before it was killed by the Chinese hero with the red-hot iron.
I passed Tinus on the trail to Kawiri. Raging ""," .11 afternoon
at Bert's missing brother's home. Into the night. Young men, Caka
and Anis spoke of killing me and making off with the money I had
in the night, in the Buru language, evidently not thinking I
understood enough to know what they were talking about. I called Amo
and told him, and they left the room where they were going to sleep
with me that night.(Bert was gone). Then later I got to thinking
that Amo was the very one that I shouldn't have talked to about
this matter. Sometime after I lay down Caka and Anis returned. I
got up and made a scene and brought the thing to the attention of
the whole village, thinking that that way they would be afraid to
do anything. I said I was going to the Kepala Kampong's and started
off walking, even though I couldn't see a thing. I let them bring
me back with the stipulation that those two couldn't share the room
with me.

Thursday