commencement of the struggle, did not answer our expecta¬ tions as we have already seen, and yet the handful of Satyagrahis who remained stuck to their posts. Fighting thus single-handed in the face of odds was comparatively easy, but it was more difficult, and called for the exercise of greater self-restraint, not to enlarge one’s objective when one had received large reinforcements. Such temptations often faced us in South Africa, but I can emphatically declare that we did not succumb to them in any single case. And therefore I have often said that a Satyagrahi has a single objective from which he cannot recede and beyond which he cannot advance, which can in fact be neither augmented nor abridged. The world learns to apply to a man the standards which he applies to himself. When the Government saw, that the Satyagrahis claimed to follow these fine principles, they began to judge the con¬ duct of the Satyagrahis in the light of those principles, al¬ though they themselves were apparently not bound by any principle whatever, and several times charged the Satyagrahis with a violation of their principles. Even a child can see that if fresh anti-Indian legislation was ena¬ cted after the Black Act, it must be included in the Satyagraha programme. And yet when fresh restrictions were imposed on Indian immigration and necessitated an exten¬ sion of our programme, the Government levelled against us the totally undeserved charge of raising fresh issues.
If new restraints were placed on Indian newcomers, we must have the right to recruit them for the movement, and hence Sorabji and others entered the Transvaal, as we have al¬ ready seen. Government could not tolerate this at all, but I had no difficulty in persuading impartial people about the propriety of the step. Another such occasion arose after Gokhale’s departure. Gokhale supposed that the £ 3 tax would be taken off in a year and the necessary legislation would be introduced in the next ensuing session of the Union Parliament. Instead of this, General Smuts from his seat in the House of Assembly said that as the Euro¬ peans in Natal objected to the repeal of the tax, the Union Government were unable to pass legislation directing its removal, which however was not the case. The members from Natal by themselves could do nothing in a body upon which the four Colonies were represented. Again General Smuts ought to have brought forward the necessary Bill in the Assembly on behalf of the Cabinet and then left the measure to its fate. But he did nothing of the kind, and provided us with the welcome opportunity of including the despicable impost as a cause of ‘war.5 There were two reasons for this. First, if in course of the struggle the Govern¬ ment made a promise and then went back upon it, the pro¬ gramme would naturally be extended so as to embrace such repudiation as well, and secondly, the breach of a promise, made to such a representative of India as Gokhale was, was not only a personal insult to him but also to the whole of India, and as such could not be taken lying down.
If there had been only one reason, namely the first by it¬ self, the Satyagrahis, in case they felt themselves unequal to the task, could have been excused if they did not offer Satyagraha against the -£ 3 tax. But it was impossible to pocket an insult offered to the mother country, and there¬ fore we felt the Satyagrahis were bound to include the £ 3 tax in their programme, and when this tax thus fell within the scope of the struggle, the indentured Indians had an opportunity of participating in it. The reader must note that thus far this class had been kept out of the fray. This new orientation of our policy increased our burden of res¬ ponsibility on the one hand, and on the other opened up a fresh field of recruitment for our ‘army.5 Thus far Satyagraha had not been so much as men¬ tioned among the indentured labourers; still less had they been educated to take part in it. Being illiterate, they could not read Indian Opinion or other newspapers. Yet I found that these poor folk were keen observers of the struggle and understood the movement, while some of them regret¬ ted their inability to join it. But when the Union ministers broke their pledged word, and repeal of the £ 3 tax was also included in our programme, I was not at all aware as to which of them would participate in the struggle.
I wrote to Gokhale about the breach of pledge, and he was deeply pained to hear of it. I asked him not to be anxious and assured him that we would fight unto death and wring a repeal of the tax out of the unwilling hands of the Transvaal Government. The idea, however, of my return¬ ing to India in a year had to be abandoned, and it was impossible to say when I would be able to go. Gokhale was nothing if not a man of figures. He asked me to let him know the maximum and the minimum strength of our army of peace, along with the names of the fighters. As far as I can now remember, I sent 65 or 66 names as the highest and 16 as the lowest number, and also informed Gokhale that I would not expect monetary assistance from India for such small numbers. I besought him to have no fears and not to put an undue strain upon his physical re¬ sources. I had learnt from newspapers and otherwise that after Gokhale returned to Bombay from South Africa, charges of weakness etc. had been laid at his door. I there¬ fore wished that Gokhale should not try to raise any funds for us in India. But this was his stern answer: ‘We in India have some idea of our duty even as- you understand your obligations in South Africa. We will not permit you to tell us what is or is not proper for us to do. I only desired to know the position in South Africa, but did not seek your advice as to what we may do.5 I grasped Gokhale’s meaning, and never afterwards said or wrote a word on the subject. In the same letter he gave me consolation and caution. He was afraid in view of the breach of pledge that it would be a long protracted struggle, and he doubted how long a handful of men could continue to give battle to the insolent brute force of the Union Government. In South Africa we set about making our preparations. There could be no sitting at ease in the ensuing campaign. It was realized that we would be imprisoned for long terms. It was decided to close Tolstoy Farm. Some families returned to their homes upon the release of the breadwinners. The rest mostly belonged to Phoenix, which therefore was pitched upon as the future base of operations for the Satyagrahis.
Another reason for preferring Phoenix was, that if the in¬ dentured labourers joined the struggle against the £ 3 tax, it would be more convenient to meet them from a place in Natal.
While preparations were still being made for resum¬ ing the struggle, a fresh grievance came into being, which afforded an opportunity even to women to do their bit in the struggle. Some brave women had already offered to participate, and when Satyagrahis went to jail for hawk¬ ing without a licence, their wives had expressed a desire to follow suit. But we did not then think it proper to send women to jail in a foreign land. There seemed to be no adequate reason for sending them into the firing line, and I for my part could not summon courage enough to take them to the front. Another argument was, that it would be derogatory to our manhood if we sacrificed our women in resisting a law which was directed only against men. But an event now happened, which involved a special affront to women, and which therefore left no doubt in our minds as to the propriety of sacrificing them.
CHAPTER XXXIX CHAPTER XXXIX As if unseen by any one God was preparing the in¬ gredients for the Indians’ victory and demonstrating still more clearly the injustice of the Europeans in South Africa, an event happened which none had expected. Many married men came to South Africa from India, while some Indians contracted a marriage in South Africa itself. There is no law for the registration of ordinary marriages in India, and the religious ceremony suffices to confer validity upon them. The same custom ought to apply to Indians in South Africa as well and although Indians had settled in South Africa for the last forty years, the validity of marriages solemnized according to the rites of the various religions of India had never been called in question. But at this time there was a case in which Mr Justice Searle of the Cape Supreme Court gave judgment on March 14, 1913 to the effect that all marriages were outside the pale of legal marriages in South Africa with the exception of such as were celebrated according to Christian rites and register¬ ed by the Registrar of Marriages. This terrible judgment thus nullified in South Africa at a stroke of the pen all marriages celebrated according to the Hindu, Musalman and Zoroastrian rites. The many married Indian women in South Africa in terms of this judgment ceased to rank as the wives of their husbands and were degraded to the rank of concubines, while their progeny were deprived of their right to inherit the parent’s property. This was an insufferable situation for women no less than men, and the Indians in South Africa were deeply agitated.
According to my_usual practice I wrote _to the Govern¬ ment asking them whether they agreed to the SeaHT j udgment and whether, if the judge was right in interpreting it, they would amend the law so as to recognize the validity of Indian marriages consecrated according to the religious customs of the parties and recognized as legal in India. Th^_G_overnnient were not then in a mood to listen and could not see their way to comply with my request.
The Satyagraha Association held a meeting to con¬ sider whether they should appeal against the Searle judg¬ ment, and came to the conclusion that no appeal was possible on a question of this nature. If there was to be an appeal, it must be preferred by Government, or if they so desired, by the Indians provided that the Government openly sided with them through their Attorney General. To appeal when these conditions were not satisfied would be in a way tantamount to tolerating the invalidation of Indian marriages. Satyagraha would have to be resorted to, even if such an appeal was made and if it was rejected. In these circumstances therefore it seemed best not to prefer any appeal against this unspeakable insult.
A crisis now arrived, when there could not be any waiting for an auspicious day or hour. Patience was im¬ possible in the face of this insult offered to our woman¬ hood. We decided to offer stubborn Satyagraha irrespective of the number of fighters. Not only could the women now be not prevented from joining the struggle, but we decided even to invite them to come into line along with the men. We first invited the sisters who had lived on Tolstoy Farm. I found that they were only too glad to enter the struggle.
I gave them an idea of the risks incidental to such partici¬ pation. I explained to them that they would have to put up with restraints in the matter of food, dress and personal movements. I warned them that they might be given hard work in jail, made to wash clothes and even subjected to insult by the warders. But these sisters were all brave and feared none of these things. One of them was pregnant while six of them had young babies in arms. But one and all were eager to join and I simply could not come in their way. These sisters were with one exception all Tamilians. Here are their names: 1. Mrs Thambi Naidoo, 2. Mrs N. Pillay, 3. Mrs K. Murugasa Pillay, 4. Mrs A. Perumal Naidoo, 5. Mrs P. K. Naidoo, 6. Mrs K. Ghinnaswami Pillay, 7. Mrs N. S. Pillay, 8. Mrs R. A. Mudalingam, 9. Mrs Bhavani Dayal, 10. Miss Minachi Pillay, 11. Miss Baikum Murugasa Pillay.
It is easy to get into prison by committing a crime but it is difficult to get in by being innocent. As the cri¬ minal seeks to escape arrest, the police pursue and arrest him. But they lay their hands upon the innocent man who courts arrest of his own free will only when they cannot help it. The first attempts of these sisters were not crowned with success. They entered the Transvaal at Vereeniging without permits, but they were not arrested. They took to hawking without a licence, but still the police ignored them. It now became a problem with the women how they should get arrested. There were not many men ready to go to jail and those who were ready could not easily have their wish.
We now decided to take a step which we had reserved till the last, and which in the event fully answered our expectations. I had contemplated sacrificing all the settlers in Phoenix at a critical period. That was to be my final offering to the God of Truth. The settlers at Phoenix were mostly my close co-workers and relations. The idea was to send all of them to jail with the exception of, a few who would be required for the conduct of Indian Opinion and of children below sixteen. This was the maximum of sacri¬ fice open to me in the circumstances. This sixteen stal¬ warts to whom I had referred in writing to Gokhale were among the pioneers of the Phoenix settlement. It was pro¬ posed that these friends should cross over into the Transvaal and as they crossed over, get arrested -for entering the country without permits. We were afraid that Government would not arrest them if we made a previous announce¬ ment of our intention, and therefore we guarded it as a secret except from a couple of friends. When the pioneers entered the Transvaal, the police officer would ask them their names and addresses, and it was part of the programme not to supply this information as there was an apprehen¬ sion that if their identity was disclosed, the police would come to know that they were my relations and therefore would not arrest them. Refusal to give name and address to an officer was also held to be a separate offence. While the Phoenix group entered the Transvaal, the sisters who had courted arrest in the Transvaal in vain were to enter Natal. As it was an offence to enter the Transvaal from Natal without a permit it was equally an offence to enter Natal from the Transvaal. If the sisters were arrested upon entering Natal, well and good. But if they were not arrested, it was arranged that they should proceed to and post themselves at Newcastle, the great coal-mining centre in Natal, and advise the indentured Indian labour¬ ers there to go on strike. The mother tongue of the sisters was Tamil, and they could speak a little Hindustani besides.
The majority of labourers on the coal mines hailed from Madras State and spoke Tamil or Telugu, though there were many from North India as well. If the labourers st¬ ruck in response to the sisters’ appeal, Government was bound to arrest them along with the labourers, who would thereby probably be fired with still greater enthusiasm. This was the strategy I thought out and unfolded before the Transvaal sisters.
I went to Phoenix, and talked to the settlers about my plans. First of all I held a consultation with the sisters living there. I knew that the step of sending women to jail was fraught with serious risk. Most of the sisters in Phoenix spoke Gujarati. They had not had the training or experience of the Transvaal sisters. Moreover, most of them were related to me, and might think of going to jail only on account of my influence with them. If afterwards they flinched at the time of actual trial or could not stand the jail, they might be led to apologize, thus not only giving me a deep shock but also causing serious damage to the movement. I decided not to broach the subject to my wife, as she could not say no to any proposal I made, and if she said yes, I would not know what value to attach to her assent, and as I knew that in a serious matter like this the husband should leave the wife to take what step she liked on her own initiative, and should not be offended at all even if she did not take any step whatever. I talked to the other sisters who readily fell in with my proposal and expressed their readiness to go to jail. They assured me that they would complete their term in jail, come what might.
My wife overheard my conversation with the sisters, and addressing me, said, “I am sorry that you are not telling me about this. What defect is there in me which disqualifi¬ es me for jail? I also wish to take the path to which you are inviting the others.” “You know I am the last person to cause you pain,” I replied. “There is no question of my distrust in you. I would be only too glad if you went to jail, but it should not appear at all as if you went at my instance. In matters like this every one should act relying solely upon one’s own strength and courage. If I asked you, you might be inclined to go just for the sake of complying with my request. And then if you began to tremble in the law court or were terrified by hardships in jail, I could not find fault with you, but how would it stand with me? How could I then harbour you or look the world in the face? It is fears like these which have prevented me from asking you too to court jail.” “You may have nothing to do with me,” she said, “if being un¬ able to stand jail I secure my release by an apology. If you can endure hardships and so can my boys, why cannot I? I am bound to join the struggle.” “Then I am bound to admit you to it,” said I. “You know my conditions and you know my temperament. Even now reconsider the mat¬ ter if you like, and if after mature thought you deliberately come to the conclusion not to join the movement, you are free to withdraw. And you must understand that there is nothing to be ashamed of in changing your decision even now.”
“I have nothing to think about, I am fully determin¬ ed,” she said.
I suggested to the other settlers also that each should take his or her decision independently of all others. Again and again, and in a variety of ways I pressed this condi¬ tion on their attention that none should fall away whether the struggle was short or long, whether the Phoenix set¬ tlement flourished or faded, and whether he or she kept good health or fell ill in jail. All were ready. The only member of the party from outside Phoenix was Rustomji Jivanji Ghorkhodu, from whom these conferences could not be concealed, and Kakaji, as he was affectionately called, was not the man to lag behind on an occasion like the present. He had already been to jail, but he insisted upon paying it another visit. The ‘invading’ party was composed of the following members: 1. Mrs Kasturbai Gandhi, 2. Mrs Jayakunvar Manilal Doctor, 3. Mrs Kashi Ghhaganlal Gandhi, 4. Mrs Santok Maganlal Gandhi, 5. Parsi Rustomji Jivanji Ghorkhodu, 6. Ghhaganlal Khushalchand Gandhi, 7. Ravjibhai Manibhai Patel, 8. Maganbhai Haribhai Patel, 9. Solomon Royeppen, 10. Raju Govindu, 11. Ramdas Mohandas Gandhi, 12. Shivpujan Badari, 13. V. Govindarajulu, 14. Kuppuswami Moonlight Mudaliar, 15. Gokuldas Hansraj, and 16. Revashankar Ratansi Sodha.
The sequel must be taken up in a fresh chapter.
CHAPTER XL WOMEN IN JAIL These ‘invaders’ were to go to jail for crossing the border and entering the Transvaal without permits. The reader who has seen the list of their names will have observed, that if some of them were disclosed beforehand, the police might not perhaps arrest the persons bearing them. Such in fact had been the case with me. I was arrest¬ ed twice or thrice but after this the police ceased to meddle with me at the border. No one was informed of this partyhaving started and the news was of course withheld from the papers. Moreover the party had been instructed not to give their names even to the police and to state that they would disclose their identity in court.
The police were familiar with cases of this nature. After the Indians got into the habit of courting arrest, they would often not give their names just for the fun of the thing, and the police therefore did not notice anything strange about the behaviour of the Phoenix party, which was arrested accordingly. They were then tried and sen¬ tenced to three months’ imprisonment with hard labour The sisters who had been disappointed in the Transvaal now entered Natal but were not arrested for entering the country without permits. They therefore proceeded to Newcastle and set about their work according to the plans previously settled. Their influence spread like wildfire. The pathetic story of the wrongs heaped up by the £ 3 tax touched the labourers to the quick, and they went on strike. I received the news by wire and was as much perplexed as I was pleased. What was I to do? I was not prepared for this marvellous awakening. I had neither men nor the money which would enable me to cope with the work before me. But I visualized my duty very clearly. I must go to Newcastle and do what I could. I left at once to go there.
Government could not now any longer leave the brave Transvaal sisters free to pursue their activities. They too were sentenced to imprisonment for the same term — three months — and were kept in the same prison as the Phoenix party (October 21, 1913).
These events stirred the heart of the Indians not only in South Africa but also in the motherland to its very depths. Sir Pherozeshah had been so far indifferent. In 1901 he had strongly advised me not to go to South Africa. He held that nothing could be done for Indian emigrants beyond the seas so long as India had not achieved her own freedom, and he was little impressed with the Satyagraha movement in its initial stages. But women in jail pleaded with him as nothing else could. As he himself put it in his Bombay Town Hall speech, his blood boiled at the thought of these women lying in jails herded with ordi¬ nary criminals and India could not sleep over the matter any longer.
The women’s bravery was beyond words. They were all kept in Maritzburg jail, where they were considerably harassed. Their food was of the worst quality and they were given laundry work as their task. No food was per¬ mitted to be given them from outside nearly till the end of their term. One sister was under a religious vow to re¬ strict herself to a particular diet. After great difficulty the jail authorities allowed her that diet, but the food sup¬ plied was unfit for human consumption. The sister badly needed olive oil. She did not get it at first, and when she got it, it was old and rancid. She offered to get it at her own expense but was told that jail was no hotel, and she must take what food was given her. When this sister was released she was a mere skeleton and her life- was saved only by a great effort.
Another returned from jail with a fatal fever to which she succumbed within a few days of her release (February 22, 1914). How can I forget her? Valliamma R. Munuswami Mudaliar was a young girl of Johannesburg only sixteen years of age. She was confined to bed when I saw her. As she was a tall girl, her emaciated body was a terri¬ ble thing to behold.
WOMEN IN JAIL 259 “Valliamma, you do not repent of your having gone to jail?” I asked.
“Repent? I am even now ready to go to jail again if I am arrested,” said Valliamma.
“But what if it results in your death?” I pursued.
“I do not mind it. Who would not love to die for one’s motherland?” was the reply.
Within a few days after this conversation Valliamma was no more with us in the flesh, but she left us the heri¬ tage of an immortal name. Condolence meetings were held at various places, and the Indians resolved to erect ‘Valliamma Hall5, to commemorate the supreme sacrifice of this daughter of India. Unfortunately the resolution has not still been translated into action. There were many difficulties. The community was torn by internal dissen¬ sions; the principal workers left one after another. But whether or not a hall is built in stone and mortar, Valliamma’s service is imperishable. She built her temple of service with her own hands, and her glorious image has a niche even now reserved for it in many a heart. And the name of Valliamma will live in the history of South African Satyagraha as long as India lives.
It was an absolutely pure sacrifice that was offered by these sisters, who were innocent of legal technicalities> and many of whom had no idea of country, their patrio¬ tism being based only upon faith. Some of them were il¬ literate and could not read the papers. But they knew that a mortal blow was being aimed at the Indians’ honour* and their going to jail was a cry of agony and prayer offer¬ ed from the bottom of their heart, was in fact the purest of all sacrifices. Such heart prayer is always acceptable to God. Sacrifice is fruitful only to the extent that it is pure. God hungers after devotion in man. He is glad to accept the widow’s mite offered with devotion, that is to say* without a selfish motive, and rewards it a hundredfold. The unsophisticated Sudama offered a handful of rice, but the small offering put an end to many years’ want and starvation. The imprisonment of many might have been fruitless but the devoted sacrifice of a single pure soul could never go in vain. None can tell whose sacrifice in South Africa was acceptable to God, and hence bore fruit. But we do know that Valliamma’s sacrifice bore fruit and so did the sacrifice of the other sisters.
Souls without number spent themselves in the past, are spending themselves in the present and will spend themselves in the future in the service of country and humanity, and that is in the fitness of things as no one knows who is pure. But Satyagrahis may rest assured, that even if there is only one among them who is pure as crystal, his sacrifice suffices to achieve the end in view. The world rests upon the bedrock of satya or truth. Asatya meaning untruth also means non-existent, and satya or truth also means that which is. If untruth does not so much as exist, its victory is out of the question. And truth being that which is can never be destroyed. This is the doctrine of Satyagraha in a nutshell.
CHAPTER XLI The women’s imprisonment worked like a charm upon the labourers on the mines near Newcastle who downed their tools and entered the city in succeeding batches. As soon as I received the news, I left Phoenix for Newcastle.
These labourers have no houses of their own. The mine-owners erect houses for them, set up lights upon their roads, and supply them with water, with the result that the labourers are reduced to a state of utter dependence. And as Tulsidas put - it, a dependent cannot hope for happiness even in a dream.
The strikers brought quite a host of complaints to me. Some said the mine-owners had stopped their lights or their water, while others stated that they had thrown away the strikers’ household chattels from their quarters. Saiyad Ibrahim, a Pathan, showed his back to me and -said, “Look here, how severely they have thrashed me. I have let the rascals go for your sake, as such are your orders. I am a Pathan, and Pathans never take but give a beating.”
“Well done, brother,” I replied. “I look upon such conduct alone as pure bravery. We will win through people of your type.”
I thus congratulated him, but thought to myself that the strike could not continue if many received the same treatment as the Pathan did. Leaving the question of flog¬ ging aside, there was not much room for complaint if the collieries cut off the lights, the water supply and other amenities enjoyed by the strikers. But whether or not comp¬ laint was justified, the strikers could not hold on in the circumstances, and I must find a way out of the difficulty, or else it was very much to be preferred that they should own themselves to be defeated and return to work at once rather than that they should resume work after a period of weary waiting. But defeatist counsel was not in my line. I therefore suggested that the only possible course was for the labourers to leave their masters5 quarters, to fare forth in fact like pilgrims.
The labourers were not to be counted by tens but by hundreds. And their number might easily swell into thou¬ sands. How was I to house and feed this ever growing multitude? I would not appeal to India for monetary help. The river of gold which later on flowed from the motherland had not yet started on its course. Indian traders were mortally afraid and not at all ready to help me publi¬ cly, as they had trading relations with the coal-owners and other Europeans. Whenever I went to Newcastle, I used to stop with them. But this time, as I would place them in an awkward position, I resolved to put up at another place.
As I have already stated, the Transvaal sisters were most of them Tamilians. They had taken up their quarters in Newcastle with Mr D. Lazarus, a middle-class Christian Tamilian, who owned a small plot of land and a house consisting of two or three rooms. I also decided to put up with this family, who received me with open arms. The poor have no fears. My host belonged to a family of inden¬ tured labourers, and hence he is or his relations would be liable to pay the £ 3 tax. No wonder he and his people would be familiar with the woes of indentured labourers