Journey into the land of palm oil plantations

Since life in Jambi can feel a bit isolated at times with the nearest city being hours away and even farther to a fellow volunteer, I have been taking any opportunity to go on a road trip and see Jambi province outside of the main city.  To be clear, I call basically any kind of trip a road trip here because I am never fully informed as to what the plan is, how long we will be gone or what will be required of me during the trip.  Yesterday posed this kind of opportunity when Sumi and another coworker Dewi had to travel to a different district, Tanjung Jabung Timur, with the ostensible mission of delivering SIKOK’s completed report on their narcotic survey of that district.  We set off on the two-hour drive and I thoroughly enjoyed playing with Dewi’s two-year-old daughter who was also tagging along and watching the rural village scenery pass by.  When most people think of Sumatra, images of jungles, orangutans, and misty volcanoes usually come to mind.  Well the part of Sumatra I live in is quite the opposite.  It is so endlessly flat here on the east side of the mountains that I was abnormally thrilled when we drove through some low hills, and the few forests we came across quickly gave out to palm oil plantations.  I still think the area holds some beauty, if just for its ruggedness, though at times I was reminded of previous trips spent driving through endless cornfields in the Midwest. 

When we arrived at our destination city, the man we were supposed to meet with was not available (sometimes I really doubt that meetings are scheduled even in government offices), so we got an early lunch at a Padang restaurant and stopped at the city’s new mosque for afternoon prayers.  Dewi, who was one of my students in the office English class, used the time to review some of her new vocabulary with me; this included future, past, and present, mosque pronounced as mosk and not mos-ke, and the difference between nurse and breastfeed.

Finally at 2pm we finished the meeting that turned out to be only our first stop and we headed to the local police office.  Sumi wanted to get data on narcotic-related crime in the area but due to the pervasive bureaucratic atmosphere, this took conversations with multiple self-important men in various departments.  I took a break at one point to go find ice cream with Dewi and her daughter.  Meeting up with Sumi post-ice cream, there was one conversation I found particularly amusing because while Sumi was there to discuss a serious issue with the man in charge of narcotics, he kept breaking off their conversation to engage me on unrelated topics.  The first time was the normal, what would you like to drink, tea or coffee?  I expressed that I wanted coffee without sugar, a shocking request for Indonesians who consider “bitter coffee” unpalatable.  He allowed my request after double-checking and then resumed their conversation until he suddenly turned to me and asked what my name and my age were.  This information satisfied him for another five minutes until he decided to grill me about why I don’t like sugar in my coffee, how could I enjoy it?  I just told him my go-to response “This is normal in America” and we made it another five minutes until the next interrogation started over my relationship status, do you have a boyfriend? Do you want an Indonesian boyfriend?  The funny thing is both of these questions always require a careful answer because Indonesians listen intently to my response and it can quickly turn the conversation in an awkward direction.  It is first off strange to them that I am here single, so saying that I don’t want a boyfriend/husband is not acceptable, and refusing the possibility of an Indonesian boyfriend/husband would be rude to them but telling an Indonesian man that I want an Indonesian boyfriend would be too inviting.  So in my basic Bahasa Indonesian I explain that I am still young and only just got here, so maybe later (but when I am feeling lazy and just want a guy to leave me alone I say I am already married to an American man).  Somewhat satisfied with my response, this man thought it would be a good idea though for me to go on the popular Indonesian dating show “Take Her Out!” to find an Indonesian man and got quite excited describing how that experience would go for me.

We finally escaped the police office and I managed to evade all requests for my phone number.  The drive home though wasn’t quite as enjoyable when I started feeling car sick from our driver’s insane driving.  I don’t think that any Indonesians are taught the value of maintaining a steady speed and avoiding swerving into oncoming traffic to get one car ahead.  No one else seemed as concerned about me for our safety and we eventually returned home.