The Essential Gandhi (11 page)

Gandhi’s efforts to arouse Indian public opinion on the South African issue had been reported, with exaggeration, in the South African press. Now he was arriving with eight hundred free Indians. This provoked fierce resentment among the whites, who charged him with flooding Natal and the Transvaal with unwanted, unindentured colored people. Gandhi was, of course, innocent of recruiting or encouraging the travelers.]

[The] two ships cast anchor in the port of Durban on or about the 18th of December [1896].… As there had been plague in Bombay when we set sail … our ship was … ordered to be put in quarantine.… But this quarantine order had more than health reasons behind it.

The white residents of Durban had been agitating for [the Indians’] repatriation and the agitation was one of the reasons for the order.…

The real object of the quarantine was thus to coerce the passengers into returning to India by somehow intimidating them.…

 … On Christmas Day the captain invited the saloon passengers to dinner.… I knew this was not an occasion for a serious speech. But mine could not be otherwise. I took part in the merriment but my heart was in the combat that was going on in Durban.…

I therefore deplored the civilization of which the Natal whites were the fruit and which they represented and championed.… The captain and other friends gave me a patient hearing … afterward I had long talks with the captain and other officers regarding
the civilization of the west.… The questioners pinned me to my faith, and one of them—the captain, so far as I can recollect—said to me:

“Supposing the whites carry out their threats, how will you stand by your principle of non-violence?” To which I replied: “I hope God will give me the courage and the sense to forgive them and to refrain from bringing them to law. I have no anger against them. I am only sorry for their ignorance and their narrowness. I know that they sincerely believe that what they are doing today is right and proper. I have no reason therefore to be angry with them.”

At the end of twenty-three days the ships were permitted to enter the harbor and orders permitting the passengers to land were passed.
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But Mr. [Harry] Escombe [the Attorney-General of the Natal Government who had openly participated in the anti-Gandhi agitation] had sent word to the captain that as the whites were highly enraged against me and my life was in danger, my family and I should be advised to land at dusk.… I agreed to act accordingly. But scarcely half an hour after this, Mr. Laughton [an Englishman and legal counsellor of the steamship company] came to me and said somewhat to this effect: “If you are not afraid, I suggest that Mrs. Gandhi [who was pregnant] and the children should drive to Mr. Rustomji’s [an Indian friend’s] house, whilst you and I follow them on foot. I do not at all like the idea of your entering the city like a thief in the night.… Everything is quiet now. The whites have all dispersed.” … I readily agreed. My wife and children drove safely to Mr. Rustomji’s place.… I went ashore with Mr. Laughton. Mr. Rustomji’s house was about two miles from the dock.

As soon as we landed, some youngsters recognized me and shouted “Gandhi, Gandhi.” About half a dozen men rushed to the spot and joined in the shouting. Mr. Laughton feared the crowd might swell and hailed a rickshaw.… But the youngsters would not let me get into it. They frightened the rickshaw boy out of his life and he took to his heels. As we went ahead, the crowd continued to swell until it became impossible to proceed further. They
first caught hold of Mr. Laughton and separated us. Then they pelted me with stones, brickbats and rotten eggs. Someone snatched away my turban, whilst others began to batter and kick me. I fainted and caught hold of the front railings of a house and stood there to get my breath. But it was impossible. They came upon me boxing and battering. The wife of the police superintendent, who knew me, happened to be passing by. The brave lady came up, opened her parasol … and stood between the crowd and me. This checked the fury of the mob, as it was difficult for them to deliver blows on me without harming Mrs. Alexander.

Meanwhile, an Indian youth who witnessed the incident had run to the police station. The police superintendent, Mr. Alexander, sent a posse of men to ring me round and escort me safely to my destination. They arrived in time.… Escorted by the police, I arrived without further harm at Mr. Rustomji’s place. I had bruises all over but no abrasions except in one place.…

There was quiet inside, but outside the whites surrounded the house. Night was coming on, and the yelling crowd was shouting “We must have Gandhi.” The quick-sighted police superintendent was already there trying to keep the crowds under control, not by threats but by humoring them. But he was not entirely free from anxiety. He sent me a message to this effect: “If you would save your friend’s house and property and also your family, you should escape the house in disguise, as I suggest.”

It is idle to adjudicate upon the right and wrong of incidents that have already happened. It is useful to understand them and, if possible, to learn a lesson from them for the future.…

[The] preparations for escape made me forget my injuries. As suggested by the superintendent, I put on an Indian constable’s uniform and wore on my head a Madrasi scarf wrapped round a plate to serve as a helmet. Two detectives accompanied me, one of them disguised as an Indian merchant and with his face painted to resemble an Indian. I forget the disguise of the other. We … threaded our way through the crowd to a carriage that had been kept for me at the end of the street. In this we drove off to the police station where Mr. Alexander had offered me refuge a short time before, and I thanked him and the detective officers.

 … Mr. Escombe sent for me, expressed his regret for the
injuries I had sustained and said, “Believe me, I cannot feel happy over the least little injury done to your person. If you can identify the assailants I am prepared to arrest and prosecute them.…”

“I do not want to prosecute anyone. It is possible that I may be able to identify one or two of them, but what is the use of getting them punished? Besides, I do not hold the assailants to blame. They were given to understand that I had made exaggerated statements in India about the whites in Natal and calumniated them. If they believed these reports, it is no wonder they were enraged. The leaders and, if you will permit me to say so, you are to blame. You could have guided the people properly … I do not want to bring anyone to book. I am sure that when the truth becomes known, they will be sorry for their conduct.”
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[Gandhi had been interviewed by the
Natal Advertiser
the day he landed. This] interview and my refusal to prosecute the assailants produced such a profound impression that the Europeans of Durban were ashamed of their conduct. The press declared me to be innocent and condemned the mob. Thus the lynching ultimately proved to be a blessing for me, that is, for the cause. It enhanced the prestige of the Indian community in South Africa and made my work easier.
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[A photograph of Mrs. Gandhi on her first arrival in South Africa in 1897—at twenty-eight—shows her a beautiful woman, elegant in a rich silk sari, the dress of Indian women. It is a long piece of cloth wrapped around the waist and gracefully draped over a short blouse, with the end often pulled Madonna-like over the head. Kasturbai’s fine oval face with eyes wide apart, well-formed nose, delicately curved lips and perfectly shaped chin must have made her very attractive indeed. She was not as tall as Gandhi.

Harilal and Manilal, their two sons who came with them to South Africa, were dressed in knee-length coats and long, Western trousers.]

 … Some of the recollections of those days are amusing to look back upon.

I believed … that in order to look civilized, our dress and manners had, as far as possible, to approximate the European standard. Because, I thought, only thus could we have some influence, and without influence it would not be possible to serve the community.

 … Of course no one could be without shoes and stockings. It was long before my wife and children could get used to them. The shoes cramped their feet and the stockings stank with perspiration. The toes often got sore.… They agreed to the changes in dress as there was no alternative. In the same spirit and with even more reluctance they adopted the use of knives and forks. When my infatuation for these signs of civilization wore away, they gave up the knives and forks.… I can see today that we feel all the freer and lighter for having cast off the tinsel of “civilization.”
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[Gandhi was not only his family’s authority and teacher, but nurse—and midwife to Kasturbai—as well. He helped care for his infant sons: Ramdas, his third son, born in 1897, and Devadas, born in 1900. He had studied a popular work on childbirth, which constituted a full course in obstetrics and infant care, and when labor came too swiftly for professional help to be fetched, Gandhi himself delivered his fourth son.]

I had started on a life of ease and comfort, but the experiment was short-lived. Although I had furnished the house with care … it failed to have any hold on me … I began to cut down expenses. The washerman’s bill was heavy and, as he was besides by no means noted for his punctuality, even two to three dozen shirts and collars proved [an insufficient supply] for me.… I bought a book on washing, studied the art and taught it also to my wife. This no doubt added to my work, but its novelty made it a pleasure.

I shall never forget the first collar that I washed myself. I had used more starch than necessary, the iron had not been made hot enough, and for fear of burning the collar, I had not pressed it sufficiently. The result was that though the collar was fairly stiff, the superfluous starch continually dropped off it. I went to court with the collar on, thus inviting the ridicule of brother barristers, but even in those days I could be impervious to ridicule.

“Well,” said I, “this is my first experiment at washing my own collars.… But it does not trouble me and then there is the advantage of providing you with so much fun.”

“But surely there is no lack of laundries here?” asked a friend.

“The laundry bill is very heavy,” said I. “The charge for washing a collar is almost as much as its price, and even then there is the eternal dependence on the washerman. I prefer by far to wash my things myself.”

But I could not make my friends appreciate the beauty of self-help. In the course of time I became an expert washerman so far as my own work went … My collars were no less stiff or shiny than others’.

In the same way … I threw off dependence on the barber. All people who go to England learn there at least the art of shaving, but none, to my knowledge, learn to cut their own hair. I had to learn that too. I once went to an English hair-cutter in Pretoria. He contemptuously refused to cut my hair. I certainly felt hurt, but immediately purchased a pair of clippers and cut my hair before the mirror. I succeeded more or less in cutting the front hair but I spoiled the back. The friends in the court shook with laughter.

“What’s wrong with your hair, Gandhi? Rats have been at it?”

“No. The white barber would not condescend to touch my black hair,” said I, “so I preferred to cut it myself, no matter how badly.”

The reply did not surprise the friends.

The barber was not at fault in having refused to cut my hair. There was every chance of his losing his [customers] if he should serve black men. We do not allow our barbers to serve our untouchable brethren. I got the reward of this in South Africa not once but many times, and the conviction that it was the punishment for our own sins saved me from becoming angry.
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[In the Boer War, which was waged in South Africa from 1899 to 1902 between Dutch settlers and the British, Gandhi’s personal sympathies “were all with the Boers.”
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]

[But] I believed then that I had yet no right, in such cases, to enforce my individual convictions.… Suffice it to say that my loyalty to the British rule drove me to participation with the British in that war.…
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Hardly ever have I known anybody to cherish such loyalty as I did to the British Constitution.… The National Anthem used to be sung at every meeting that I attended in Natal. I then felt I must also join in the singing. Not that I was unaware of the defects in British rule, but … I believed British rule was, on the whole, beneficial to the ruled.
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I … taught the National Anthem to the children of my family.… Later on, the text began to jar on me.… The lines …

particularly jarred upon my sentiment of Ahimsa [Love and Non-Violence].… How could we assume that the so-called “enemies” were “knavish”? And because they were enemies, were they bound to be in the wrong?
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Never in my life did I exploit this loyalty, never did I seek to gain a selfish end by its means. It was for me more in the nature of an obligation, and I rendered it without expecting a reward.
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