The officers had of course sent telegrams to Durban, and when they found that I had entered with a permit, they were disappointed. But they were not the men to be defeated by such disappointment. Though I had succeeded in entering the Transvaal, they could still successfully prevent me from waiting on Mr. Chamberlain.
So the community was asked to submit the names of the representatives who were to form the Deputation. Colour prejudice was of course in evidence everywhere in South Africa, but I was not prepared to find here the dirty and underhand dealing among officials that I was familiar with in India. In South Africa the public departments were maintained for the good of the people and were responsible to public opinion. Hence officials in charge had a certain courtesy of manner and humility about them, and coloured people also got the benefit of it more or less. With the coming of the officers from Asia, came also its autocracy, and the habits that the autocrats had imbibed there. In South Africa there was a kind of responsible government or democracy, whereas the commodity imported from Asia was autocracy pure and simple; for the Asiatics had no responsible government, there being a foreign power governing them. In South Africa the Europeans were settled emigrants. They had become South African citizens and had control over the departmental officers. But the autocrats from Asia now appeared on the scene, and the Indians in consequence found themselves between the devil and the deep sea.
I had a fair taste of this autocracy. I was first summoned to see the chief of the department, an officer from Ceylon. Lest I should appear to exaggerate when I say that I was “summoned” to see the chief, I shall make myself clear. No written order was sent to me. Indian leaders often had to visit the Asiatic officers. Among these was the late Sheth Tyeb Haji Khan Muhammad. The chief of the office asked him who I was and why I had come there.
“He is our adviser,” said Tyeb Sheth, “and he has come here at our request.”
“Then what are we here for? Have we not been appointed to protect you? What can Gandhi know of the conditions here?” asked the autocrat.
Tyeb Sheth answered the charge as best he could: “Of course you are there. But Gandhi is our man. He knows our language and understands us. You are after all officials.”
The sahib ordered Tyeb Sheth to fetch me before him. I went to the sahib in company with Tyeb Sheth and others. No seats were offered, we were kept standing.
“What brings you here?” said the sahib addressing me.
“I have come here at the request of my fellow countrymen to help them with my advice,” I replied.
“But don’t you know that you have no right to come here? The permit you hold was given you by mistake. You cannot be regarded as a domiciled Indian. You must go back. You shall not wait on Mr. Chamberlain. It is for the protection of the Indians here that the Asiatic Department has been especially created. Well, you may go.” With this he bade me goodbye, giving me no opportunity for a reply.
But he detained my companions. He gave them a sound scolding and advised them to send me away.
They returned chagrined. We were now confronted with an unexpected situation.
III
Pocketed the Insult
I smarted under the insult, but as I had pocketed many such in the past, I had become inured to them. I therefore decided to forget this latest one and take what course a dispassionate view of the case might suggest.
We had a letter from the Chief of the Asiatic Department to the effect that, as I had seen Mr. Chamberlain in Durban, it had been found necessary to omit my name from the deputation which was to wait on him.
The letter was more than my coworkers could bear. They proposed to drop the idea of the deputation altogether. I pointed out to them the awkward situation of the community.
“If you do not represent your case before Mr. Chamberlain,” said I, “it will be presumed that you have no case at all. After all, the representation has to be made in writing, and we have got it ready. It does not matter in the least, whether I read it or someone else reads it. Mr. Chamberlain is not going to argue the matter with us. I am afraid we must swallow the insult.”
I had scarcely finished speaking when Tyeb Sheth cried out, “Does not an insult to you amount to an insult to the community? How can we forget that you are our representative?”
“Too true,” said I. “But even the community will have to pocket insults like these. Have we any alternative?”
“Come what may, why should we swallow a fresh insult? Nothing worse can possibly happen to us. Have we many rights to lose?” asked Tyeb Sheth.
It was a spirited reply, but of what avail was it? I was fully conscious of the limitations of the community. I pacified my friends and advised them to have, in my place, Mr. George Godfrey, an Indian barrister.
So Mr. Godfrey led the deputation. Mr. Chamberlain referred in his reply to my exclusion. “Rather than hear the same representative over and over again, is it not better to have someone new?” he said, and tried to heal the wound.
But all this, far from ending the matter, only added to the work of the community and also to mine. We had to start afresh.
“It is at your instance that the community helped in the war, and you see the result now,” were the words with which some people taunted me. But the taunt had no effect. “I do not regret my advice,” said I. “I maintain that we did well in taking part in
