More Hardships

The train reached Charlestown in the morning. There was no railway, in those days, between Charlestown and Johannesburg, but only a stage-coach, which halted at Standerton for the night en route. I possessed a ticket for the coach, which was not cancelled by the break of the journey at Maritzburg for a day; besides Abdulla Sheth had sent a wire to the coach agent at Charlestown.

The train reached Charlestown in the morning. In those days, there was no railway between Charlestown and Johannesburg, only a stagecoach. The stagecoach stopped at Standerton for the night on the way. I had a ticket for the coach. It was still valid despite my one-day interruption at Maritzburg. Besides, Abdulla Sheth had sent a telegram to the coach agent at Charlestown.

But the agent only needed a pretext for putting me off, and so, when he discovered me to be a stranger, he said, ‘Your ticket is cancelled.’ I gave him the proper reply. The reason at the back of his mind was not want of accommodation, but quite another. Passengers had to be accommodated inside the coach, but as I was regarded as a ‘coolie’ and looked a stranger, it would be proper, thought the ‘leader,’ as the white man in charge of the coach was called, not to seat me with the white passengers. There were seats on either side of the coachbox. The leader sat on one of these as a rule. Today he sat inside and gave me his seat. I knew it was sheer injustice and an insult, but I thought it better to pocket it. I could not have forced myself inside, and if I had raised a protest, the coach would have gone off without me. This would have meant the loss of another day, and Heaven only knows what would have happened the next day. So, much as I fretted within myself, I prudently sat next the coachman.

But the agent only needed an excuse to turn me away. When he saw that I was a stranger, he said, ‘Your ticket is cancelled.’ I gave him the proper reply. His real reason was not a lack of room, but something quite different. Passengers had to be seated inside the coach. But I was considered a ‘coolie’ and looked like a stranger. So the ‘leader,’ as the white man in charge of the coach was called, thought I should not sit with the white passengers. There were seats on either side of the driver’s box. The leader usually sat on one of them. That day he sat inside and gave me his seat. I knew this was a clear injustice and an insult, but I thought it better to put up with it. I could not have forced my way inside, and if I had protested, the coach would have left without me. That would have meant losing another day. Heaven only knows what would have happened the next day. So, though I was very upset, I thought it wise to sit next to the coachman.

At about three o’clock the coach reached Pardekoph. Now the leader desired to sit where I was seated, as he wanted to smoke and possibly to have some fresh air. So he took a piece of dirty sack-cloth from the driver, spread it on the footboard and addressing me said, ‘Sami, you sit on this, I want to sit near the driver.’ The insult was more than I could bear. In fear and trembling, I said to him, ‘It was you who seated me here, though I should have been accommodated inside. I put up with the insult. Now that you want to sit outside and smoke, you would have me sit at your feet. I will not do so, but I am prepared to sit inside.’

At about three o’clock, the coach reached Pardekoph. The leader now wanted to sit where I was, so he could smoke and perhaps get some fresh air. He took a piece of dirty sackcloth from the driver and spread it on the footboard. Then he said to me, ‘Sami, sit on this. I want to sit near the driver.’ The insult was more than I could bear. Trembling with fear, I said to him, ‘You were the one who seated me here, though I should have been given a place inside. I put up with that insult. Now you want to sit outside and smoke, so you expect me to sit at your feet. I will not do that, but I am willing to sit inside.’

As I was struggling through these sentences, the man came for me and began heavily to box my ears. He seized me by the arm and tried to drag me down. I clung to the brass rails of the coachbox and was determined to keep my hold even at the risk of breaking my wristbones. The passengers were witnessing the scene,—the man swearing at me, dragging and belabouring me, and I remaining still. He was strong and I was weak. Some of the passengers were moved to pity and they exclaimed: ‘Man, let him alone. Don’t beat him. He is not to blame. He is right. If he can’t stay there, let him come and sit with us.’ ‘No fear,’ cried the man, but he seemed somewhat crestfallen and stopped beating me. He let go my arm, swore at me a little more, and asking the Hottentot servant who was sitting on the other side of the coachbox to sit on the footboard, took the seat so vacated.

As I struggled to get these sentences out, the man came at me and began hitting me hard around the ears. He grabbed my arm and tried to drag me down. I clung to the brass rails of the coachbox, determined not to let go, even at the risk of breaking my wrists. The passengers watched as the man swore at me, dragged me and beat me, while I stayed still. He was strong and I was weak. Some of the passengers felt sorry for me and exclaimed: ‘Man, leave him alone. Don’t beat him. He is not to blame. He is right. If he can’t stay there, let him come and sit with us.’ ‘No fear,’ cried the man, but he seemed somewhat discouraged and stopped beating me. He let go of my arm and swore at me a little more. Then he asked the Hottentot servant sitting on the other side of the coachbox to sit on the footboard. The man took the seat the servant had left.

The passengers took their seats, and the whistle given, the coach rattled away. My heart was beating fast within my breast, and I was wondering whether I should ever reach my destination alive. The man cast an angry look at me now and then, and pointing his finger at me, growled: ‘Take care, let me once get to Standerton and I shall show you what I do.’ I sat speechless and prayed to God to help me.

The passengers took their seats. The whistle sounded, and the coach rattled away. My heart was beating fast, and I wondered whether I would ever reach my destination alive. Now and then, the man looked at me angrily. He pointed his finger at me and growled, ‘Watch out. Once I get to Standerton, I’ll show you what I’ll do.’ I sat without speaking and prayed to God for help.

After dark we reached Standerton and I heaved a sigh of relief on seeing some Indian faces. As soon as I got down, these friends said: ‘We are here to receive you and take you to Isa Sheth’s shop. We have had a telegram from Dada Abdulla.’ I was very glad and we went to Sheth Isa Haji Sumar’s shop. The Sheth and his clerks gathered round me. I told them all that I had gone through. They were very sorry to hear it, and comforted me by relating to me their own bitter experience.

We reached Standerton after dark, and I sighed with relief when I saw some Indian faces. As soon as I got down, these friends said: ‘We are here to meet you and take you to Isa Sheth’s shop. We received a telegram from Dada Abdulla.’ I was very glad, and we went to Sheth Isa Haji Sumar’s shop. The Sheth and his clerks gathered around me. I told them everything I had been through. They were very sorry to hear about it and comforted me by sharing their own bitter experiences.

I wanted to inform the agent of the Coach Company of the whole affair. So I wrote him a letter, narrating everything that had happened, and drawing his attention to the threat his man had held out. I also asked for an assurance, that he would accommodate me with the other passengers inside the coach, when we started the next morning. To which the agent replied to this effect: ‘From Standerton we have a bigger coach with different men in charge. The man complained of will not be there tomorrow, and you will have a seat with the other passengers.’ This somewhat relieved me. I had, of course, no intention of proceeding against the man who had assaulted me, and so the chapter of the assault closed there.

I wanted to tell the agent of the Coach Company about the whole affair. So I wrote him a letter describing everything that had happened and calling his attention to his employee’s threat. I also asked him to assure me that I could sit inside the coach with the other passengers when we set out the next morning. The agent replied in effect: ‘From Standerton we have a bigger coach with different men in charge. The man you complained about will not be there tomorrow, and you will have a seat with the other passengers.’ This reassured me somewhat. Of course, I had no intention of taking action against the man who had assaulted me. So the matter of the assault ended there.

In the morning Isa Sheth’s man took me to the coach, I got a good seat and reached Johannesburg quite safely that night.

In the morning, Isa Sheth’s man took me to the coach. I got a good seat and arrived safely in Johannesburg that night.

Standerton is a small village and Johannesburg a big city. Abdulla Sheth had wired to Johannesburg also, and given me the name and address of Muhammad Kasam Kamruddin’s firm there. Their man had come to receive me at the stage, but neither did I see him nor did he, recognise me. So I decided to go to a hotel. I knew the names of several. Taking a cab I asked to be driven to the Grand National Hotel. I saw the Manager and asked for a room. He eyed me for a moment, and politely saying, ‘I am very sorry, we are full up,’ bade me good-bye. So I asked the cabman to drive to Muhammad Kasam Kamruddin’s shop. Here I found Abdul Gani Sheth expecting me, and he gave me a cordial greeting. He had a hearty laugh over the story of my experience at the hotel. ‘How ever did you expect to be admitted to a hotel?’ he said.

Standerton is a small village, and Johannesburg is a big city. Abdulla Sheth had also sent a telegram to Johannesburg. He had given me the name and address of Muhammad Kasam Kamruddin’s firm there. A man from the firm had come to meet me at the stagecoach, but I did not see him, and he did not recognize me. So I decided to go to a hotel. I knew the names of several hotels. I took a cab and asked the driver to take me to the Grand National Hotel. I saw the manager and asked for a room. He looked me over for a moment, then politely said, ‘I am very sorry, we are full,’ and said goodbye. So I asked the cab driver to take me to Muhammad Kasam Kamruddin’s shop. There I found Abdul Gani Sheth waiting for me, and he gave me a warm welcome. He had a hearty laugh when I told him about my experience at the hotel. ‘How did you ever expect a hotel to let you stay?’ he said.

‘Why not?’ I asked.

‘Why not?’ I asked.

‘You will come to know after you have stayed here a few days,’ said he. ‘Only we can live in a land like this, because, for making money, we do not mind pocketing insults, and here we are.’ With this he narrated to me the story of the hardships of Indians in South Africa.

‘You will understand after you have spent a few days here,’ he said. ‘Only we can live in a country like this. We are willing to put up with insults to make money, and here we are.’ He then told me about the hardships Indians faced in South Africa.

Of Sheth Abdul Gani we shall know more as we proceed.

We will learn more about Sheth Abdul Gani as we go on.

He said: ‘This country is not for men like you. Look, now, you have to go to Pretoria tomorrow. You will have to travel third class. Conditions in the Transvaal are worse than in Natal. First and second class tickets are never issued to Indians.’

He said: ‘This country is not for men like you. Look, you have to go to Pretoria tomorrow. You will have to travel third class. Conditions in the Transvaal are worse than in Natal. Indians are never issued first or second class tickets.’

‘You cannot have made persistent effort in this direction.’

‘You cannot have kept trying to do this.’

‘We have sent representations, but I confess, our own men, too, do not want as a rule to travel first or second.’

‘We have sent petitions, but I admit that our own men, too, usually do not want to travel first or second class.’

I sent for the railway regulations and read them. There was a loophole. The language of the old Transvaal enactments was not very exact or precise; that of the railway regulations was even less so.

I asked for the railway regulations and read them. There was a loophole. The old Transvaal laws were not worded very precisely. The railway regulations were even less precise.

I said to the Sheth: ‘I wish to go first class, and if I cannot, I shall prefer to take a cab to Pretoria, a matter of only thirty seven miles.’

I said to the Sheth: ‘I want to travel first class. If I cannot, I would rather take a cab to Pretoria, which is only thirty-seven miles away.’

Sheth Abdul Gani drew my attention to the extra time and money this would mean, but agreed to my proposal to travel first, and accordingly we sent a note to the Station Master. I mentioned in my note, that I was a barrister and that I always travelled first. I also stated in the letter, that I needed to reach Pretoria as early as possible, that as there was no time to await his reply, I would receive it in person at the station, and that I should expect to get a first class ticket. There was of course a purpose behind asking for the reply in person. I had thought, that if the Station Master gave a written reply, he would certainly say ‘no,’ especially because he would have his own notion of a ‘coolie’ barrister. I would therefore appear before him in faultless English dress, talk to him and possibly persuade him to issue a first class ticket. So I went to the station in a frock-coat and necktie, placed a sovereign for my fare on the counter and asked for a first class ticket.

Sheth Abdul Gani pointed out the extra time and money this would require. But he agreed to my proposal to travel first class, and we sent a note to the Station Master. In the note, I said that I was a barrister and always traveled first class. I also said that I needed to reach Pretoria as early as possible. Since there was no time to wait for a reply, I would receive it in person at the station. I added that I expected to get a first class ticket. Of course, I had a purpose in asking for the reply in person. I thought that if the Station Master replied in writing, he would certainly say ‘no.’ This was especially likely because he would have his own idea of a ‘coolie’ barrister. I would therefore appear before him in impeccable English dress and talk to him. I might be able to persuade him to issue a first class ticket. So I went to the station in a frock coat and necktie. I placed a sovereign for my fare on the counter and asked for a first class ticket.

‘You sent me that note?’ he asked.

‘You sent me that note?’ he asked.

‘That is so. I shall be much obliged if you will give me a ticket. I must reach Pretoria today.’

‘That’s right. I would be grateful if you would give me a ticket. I must reach Pretoria today.’

He smiled, and moved to pity, said: ‘I am not a Transvaaler. I am a Hollander. I appreciate your feelings, and you have my sympathy. I do want to give you a ticket,—on one condition, however, that if the guard should ask you to shift to the third class, you will not involve me in the affair, by which I mean that you should not proceed against the Railway Company. I wish you a safe journey. I can see you are a gentleman.’

He smiled and, moved by pity, said: ‘I am not a Transvaaler. I am a Hollander. I understand how you feel, and I sympathize with you. I do want to give you a ticket, but on one condition. If the guard asks you to move to third class, you must not involve me in the matter. By that, I mean you must not take action against the Railway Company. I wish you a safe journey. I can see you are a gentleman.’

With these words he booked the ticket. I thanked him, and gave him the necessary assurance.

With these words, he booked the ticket. I thanked him and gave him the assurance he needed.

Sheth Abdul Gani had come to see me off at the station. The incident gave him an agreeable surprise, but he warned me saying: ‘I shall be thankful if you reach Pretoria all right. I am afraid the guard will not leave you in peace in the first class, and even if he does, the passengers will not.’

Sheth Abdul Gani had come to see me off at the station. The incident was a pleasant surprise to him, but he warned me: ‘I will be thankful if you reach Pretoria safely. I’m afraid the guard won’t leave you alone in first class. Even if he does, the passengers won’t.’

I took my seat in a first class compartment and the train started. At Germiston the guard came to examine the tickets. He was angry to find me there, and signalled to me with his finger to go to the third class. I showed him my first class ticket. ‘That doesn’t matter,’ said he, ‘remove to the third class.’

I took my seat in a first class compartment, and the train started. At Germiston, the guard came to check the tickets. He was angry to find me there and pointed his finger, telling me to go to third class. I showed him my first class ticket. ‘That doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘Move to third class.’

There was only one English passenger in the compartment. He took the guard to task. ‘What do you mean by troubling the gentleman?’ he said. ‘Don’t you see he has a first class ticket? I do not mind in the least his travelling with me.’ Addressing me, he said, ‘You should make yourself comfortable where you are.’

There was only one English passenger in the compartment. He scolded the guard. ‘Why are you bothering the gentleman?’ he said. ‘Don’t you see he has a first-class ticket? I don’t mind at all if he travels with me.’ Then he said to me, ‘You should make yourself comfortable where you are.’

The guard muttered: ‘If you want to travel with a coolie, what do I care?’ and went away.

The guard muttered, ‘If you want to travel with a coolie, why should I care?’ Then he went away.

At about eight o’clock in the evening the train reached Pretoria.

At about eight in the evening, the train arrived in Pretoria.