Chapter 40 Chapter Thirteen What is "Coolie"

It is inappropriate here to describe fully the situation of the Indians in the Transvaal and the Orange Free State.I recommend that anyone wishing to learn fully about the conditions there read my History of Nonviolent Resistance in South Africa.However, it is still necessary to talk about it in outline here. Indians in the Orange Free State were deprived of all rights by a special law made in 1888 or earlier.If they wanted to live there, they could only do so by working as receptionists in hotels or some other similarly menial job.All the businessmen were driven away, although a little nominal compensation was also given.They petitioned and handed in the complaint, but nothing came of it.

A very harsh law was passed in the Transvaal in 1885, which was slightly amended in 1886.According to this revised law, all Indians who came to the Transvaal had to pay a poll tax of three pounds.They are not allowed to own land except in the districts specially set aside for their residence, and indeed even in such districts they have no private title to land.They don't have the right to vote, all under that special law for Asians, other laws that apply to people of color apply to them as well.Under these laws, people of color, and Indians, were not allowed to walk on public sidewalks, and were not allowed to leave their homes after nine o'clock at night without a permit.This last provision is very extreme for Indians.Anyone considered "Arab" was exempted from this rule as a matter of preference.In this way, whoever can enjoy preferential treatment will naturally have to obey the police.At that time I had to bear the effects of these two regulations.I used to go out for walks with Mr. Keats at night, and we seldom came home before ten o'clock.What if the police arrest me?Mr. Ke Ci is more concerned about this issue than I am.He issued passes to their black servants, but how can he issue them to me?Only the master can issue licenses to his servants.Even if I asked for a pass and Mr. Keats was going to give it to me, he couldn't do it because it was against the law.

So Mr. Coats or some of his friends took me to Dr. Claus, the local Attorney General, and it turned out that we were still schoolmates.The fact that I needed a pass to go out after nine o'clock at night irritated him.He sympathized with me.He didn't order me a pass, but he gave me a letter authorizing me to go out at any time without police interference, and I always carried this letter with me when I went out.I've never used the letter, but that can only be described as an accident. Dr. Claus asked me to go to his place, and we could be considered friends.I also visited him occasionally, and I got to know his more famous brother, the prosecutor of Johannesburg, through his introduction.During the Boer War, he was court-martialed and sentenced to seven years in prison for plotting to assassinate a British officer, and was barred from practice as a lawyer.After the war he was released and rehabilitated, and was re-admitted to practice law in the Transvaal.

These connections later served me well in my public life and greatly facilitated my work. With regard to the regulation of the use of sidewalks, the consequences for me are quite serious.I used to walk across President Avenue to an open space.President Kruse's house is on this street, a very ordinary, unremarkable building with no garden, and it is similar to the surrounding houses.There are many millionaires in Pretoria whose houses are far more luxurious than his, and are surrounded by gardens.President Kruse's frugality is indeed well-known.Only a policeman standing guard in front of the door indicated that it was the house of such and such an official.I always walk quietly past this policeman standing guard along the sidewalk.

At this time, the police on guard are often changed in shifts.Once a policeman without any warning, not even telling me to get off the sidewalk, pushed me away and beat me into the street.This disconcerted me, and before I could question his conduct, I was met by Mr. Coats, who was riding past, and he called to me and said, "Gandhi, I have seen everything. If you go to court and sue this man, I will gladly be your witness. I am very sorry that you were so brutally beaten." "Don't be sorry," I said, "what does the poor man know? Every colored person is the same to him. No doubt he treats Negroes as he treats me. I'm not going to sue him because of my personal woes."

"That's what you are," said Mr. Coats, "but you have to think about it. We have to teach people like this a lesson." So he spoke to the policeman and reprimanded him.Since the policemen are Boers, they spoke Dutch, and I couldn't understand what they were talking about.But he apologized to me, which was unnecessary, and I forgave him. But since then I have never walked this road again.Somebody else will take over the man's job anyway, and because they don't know it happened, they'll do the same thing.Why do I have to suffer another unnecessary loss?So I chose another way to walk.

This incident deepened my attachment to the Indian diaspora.After my interview with the British Superintendents about these regulations, I studied with them the possibility of a charge in a case of this kind, if it should be felt necessary. I have therefore made a close study of the hardships of the Indian diaspora, not only by reading, listening to many conversations, but also experiencing it myself.I realized that South Africa was not a country in which a self-respecting Indian could live, and how this situation could be improved became a growing concern to me. My main concern at the time, however, was the Dada Abdullah case.