Chapter 36 Chapter Nine More Suffering

The train arrived in Charlestown in the morning.At that time, there was no railway between Charles City and Johannesburg, only a post station, and an overnight stop at Standerton on the way.I had a ticket, which was still valid despite a day's delay at Maritzburg; and Abdullah had sent a telegram to the post-broker in Charlestown.However, the agent wanted to make an excuse to pull me down, so when he found out that I was a stranger, he said: "Your ticket has been cancelled." I refuted it rationally.In fact, the reason in his heart was not because he didn't have a seat, but because he had other plans.Passengers were supposed to sit in the carriage, but because I was considered a "coolie" and looked like a stranger, the coachman called "Foreman" - a white man, thought that I and the white passengers It is inappropriate to sit together.There were originally two seats on either side of the carriage, and the foreman sat on one of them as usual.This time he sat inside and gave me his seat.I know it's totally unfair and insulting, but I figured I'd better bear it.I could not force myself to sit in the carriage, and if I protested, the carriage would not take me, and leave me alone.This would delay another day, and God knows what would happen the next day.So although I was extremely resentful, I quietly sat down beside the coachman.

About three o'clock in the afternoon the carriage arrived at Badkov.At this time the head waiter wanted to sit in my seat to smoke, or to get some fresh air.So he took a piece of dirty sackcloth from the driver and spread it on the footboard, and said to me: "Sami, you sit here, and I will sit next to the driver." This kind of insult is too much, I can't bear it. .I said to him fearfully and tremblingly: "This is where you told me to sit, although I should sit inside. I have endured that insult. Now you want to sit outside to smoke, but you tell me to sit inside." at your feet. I can't do that, but I can sit in it."

While I was still stammering these words, the man came over and slapped me hard several times.He grabbed my arm and tried to pull me out of the car.I held on to the brass bar of the car, and would never let go, even if my wrist was broken.The passengers all saw this scene-the guy scolded me, dragged me and beat me at the same time, but I remained calm.He is strong and I am weak.A few passengers became sympathetic and shouted: "Man, let him alone. Don't beat him. Don't blame him, he's right. If you don't let him sit there, let him come in and sit with us." "Don't be afraid," the guy yelled, but he seemed a little discouraged and stopped hitting me.He let go of my arm, and scolded me, and called the Hedontoth servant who was sitting on the other side of the carriage to come and sit on the running board, and took the vacant seat himself.

After the passengers sat down and the whistle was blown, the carriage moved on to another journey.My heart is beating rapidly in my heart, I don't know if I can reach the destination alive.From time to time the fellow looked at each other with angry eyes, pointed at me and said sharply, "Be careful, when I get to Standerton, you will see how good I am." We reached Standerton after dark.I saw a few Indian faces and breathed a sigh of relief.As soon as I got out of the car, these friends said to me: "We are here to pick you up to the store in Ishasa. We have received a telegram from Dada Abdullah." Naturally, I was very happy and went Go with them to the shop of Sayisha Hazi Sumar.He and his clerks sat around me.I told them everything that happened on the road.They were very sad to hear that, and they also told me their own painful experiences to comfort me.

I would like to inform the agent of the stagecoach company what has happened.I therefore wrote him a letter, describing everything that had happened on the road, and calling his attention to the threats my men had made of me.I also asked him to promise to let me sit in the car with the other passengers on the next morning's commute.The agent's reply read: "From Standerton, we have a larger car, which is in charge of several others. The man you are complaining about will not be there tomorrow, and you may sit with the other guests. "That reassured me a little bit.Naturally, I had no intention of suing the person who bullied me, so that's the end of the matter.

That morning, Yisha Sai sent me to the car.I got a good seat and arrived in Johannesburg that night. Standerton is a small village, Johannesburg is a big city.Abdullah had already telegraphed to Johannesburg giving me the address of Mohammad Kashan Khamruddin's shop.He sent for me at the station, but I neither saw him nor knew me.So I decided to go to a hotel.I know the names of several hotels.I hired a carriage and asked the driver to take me to the National Hotel.I met the hotel manager and asked him to give me a room.He glanced at me, said politely, "I'm sorry, it's full," and said goodbye to me.So I asked the coachman to take me to Muhammad Kashan Khamruddin's shop.I found Abdul Ganeshay there waiting for me, and he greeted me cordially.He couldn't help laughing about my experience in the hotel.He said, "Isn't it a dream that you want to live in a hotel?"

"Why?" I asked. "You know it when you live here for a few days," he said. "We are the only ones who can live in this kind of place, because it's okay to endure some insults in order to make money. That's the way it is." Then he told me about the hardships Indians suffered in South Africa. We will talk about the situation of Abdul Ganesh later.He said: "This kind of place is not suitable for people like you to live in. Now see, tomorrow you go to Pretoria, you have to take the third-class train. The situation in the Transvaal is better than that of the Tal is worse, first and second class tickets are never sold to Indians."

"Perhaps you have not made any sustained effort in this direction?" "We have commented, but I have to admit that our own people don't usually like to travel in the first and second class." I asked someone to get a copy of the railway regulations to read, and found that there were loopholes in it.The old statutes in the Transvaal were inherently imprecise, especially the railway regulations. I said to Ganesh, "I want to go first class, and if I can't get a ticket, I'd rather hire a cab and go to Pretoria. It's only thirty-seven miles in all."

Abdul Ganesh warned me that it would take time and money to do so, but agreed with me to take first class, so we sent a note to the station master.I said in the note that I was a lawyer and I always took the first-class car and boat when I went out. I also wrote that I needed to get to Pretoria as soon as possible, because there was no time to wait for his reply, and I would like to meet him at the station and hope to buy a first-class ticket.I wanted to get his answer face to face, so naturally I had other intentions.I think that if the station master comes with a written answer, he will say "no", especially because he will have his own opinion on "coolie" lawyers.I therefore intended to meet him in my best British attire, talk to him, and possibly persuade him to sell me a first-class ticket.So I went up to the station in my frock coat and tie, and put a pound of fare money on the counter to buy a first-class ticket.

"Did you write that note?" he asked. "Yes. I would be very obliged if you would give me a ticket. I must go to Pretoria today." He smiled and said kindly to me: "I am not from the Transvaal, I am a Dutchman. I understand your feelings and I sympathize with you. I would indeed give you a ticket, but on one condition." : If the guard tells you to go to third class, don't implicate me; that is, don't sue the railway company. I wish you a safe journey, and I know you're a gentleman." Having said these words, he sold me a ticket.I thanked him and gave him the necessary reassurance.Abdul Ganesh came to see him off at the station.He was surprised and delighted by the incident, but warned me: "As long as you get to Pretoria safely, I will be thankful. I am afraid the driver will not let you go, even if he allows you to sit in the first class car." room, other passengers will not agree."

I took a first-class carriage, the train moved on, and at Germiston the guard came up to check the tickets.He was very angry when he saw me sitting there, and gestured with his fingers to tell me to go to the third-class car.I showed him the first-class ticket.He said, "It doesn't count, go to the third-class car!" There was only one British passenger in the car, and he said to me, "What do you mean to bother this gentleman? Don't you see that he has a first-class ticket? He sits with me, and I don't care at all." Then he turned to me again and said, "Sit comfortably where you were before!" The car guard murmured: "As long as you are willing to go on the road with a coolie, then what do I do?" Then he walked away. The train reached Pretoria about eight o'clock that night.