Another Untraditional Christmas

Almost New Years and I am just getting around to my Christmas update.  Living in Indonesia, an untraditional Christmas can be expected.  I longed to be back in the US as I listened to stories about snow, good food, and skyped with reunited family members.  But the holiday was quiet in Jakarta, families usually use any holiday to get out of the city so it was eerily quiet when I took a taxi to the train station.  We flew past the green lights of an intersection that normally would require at least a 10 minute wait.  I also took advantage of the government-regulated four day weekend and visited a Muslim coworker’s family in Bandung.  Honestly, the train ride itself competed with the fun of the visit.  Either it was one of the most beautiful train ride views I have ever seen, or I am easily impressed by nature after living in Jakarta.  For three hours of winding between forested hills, tiered rice paddies and over ravines, it was the perfect amount of time to relax and pull out a novel.

Once in Bandung, my friend Ari met me at the train station and we headed downtown for some factory outlet shopping that this city is famous for.  I thought it was amusing to compare this to the “factory outlet” shopping we have in the US, that terminology is more accurate here as the factories are located in Asia.  Jakartans and even Malaysians take advantage of the direct AirAsia flights from KL to Bandung and I was told prices go up on weekends.  I was going to call it my Christmas shopping but no purchases were made so Ari directed me to some Sundanese (the main ethnic group of West Java) dishes I should try.  We had a tofu and peanut sauce dish called baso tahu, nasi timbel which is a style of fried chicken and tofu with rice and sambal, and finished with ice cream with durian and chocolate- heaven in a plastic cup, eaten on a stool on the side of the road!

Afterwards we headed to her family’s home where her 3-year-old boy, parents, brother, sister and sister’s family were all hanging out.  While they were certainly not celebrating Christmas it was fun to just be with a family for the holiday.  Indonesians are such welcoming people that I was immediately just one of the family there and was given someone else’s bedroom for the night.  We watched tv and chatted, someone boiled water for me to take a bath and then it was bedtime so everyone else could get up for the 4am prayers.  The day after Christmas we went to the big Sunday market and went out for lunch.  After getting everyone’s stuff packed it was then time for the drive back to Jakarta.  I can’t comment on the view by car as I was of course passed out the entire drive; nothing new there.

Verbal Mishaps

While I was away on my trip, some of the empty rooms in my kos (boarding house) filled up and I returned to a much more lively and interesting living environment.  The new additions are all Indonesian and most are around my age and fun to talk to, eat dinner with and just hang out and participate in Indonesians’ favorite home activity- watching TV.  This development has also been a boon to my Indonesian skills as it expands the contexts in which I speak casually.  I was noticing that my vocabulary leans heavily towards political and development issues.  I could talk for ages about women's health, defending human rights, the plights of migrant workers, government transparency, and a new writing project is set to make me conversational in conflict resolution and community peacebuilding issues.  But I still get stumped when it comes to discussing household issues.  Hence my newest idea: sticky notes around my room labeling everything from curtains to drawers to faucets.  I am committed to balancing my language skills!

However, I fear this is becoming a detriment to my English again.  Friday night I was out at dinner with some American friends and feeling on the spot in the conversation found myself scrambling for the English word that means happening again and again.  The word that came out of my mouth: repetuous.  A couple minutes later I realized to my extreme embarrassment that I meant repetitive, not exactly what you would consider a challenging word.  I am hoping that verbal mishaps like this remain a rare occurrence as I try to maintain some language agility in while devoting myself to learning Indonesian.

A Week in Cambodia

Now back in Jakarta for a few days I have had time to get resettled at work, do laundry, and upload photos to my Flickr account.  Still I keep thinking about my trip to Cambodia when I see Buddhist image or see someone dressed all in orange reminiscent of the monks I saw everywhere during my six day trip.  I have to say that was not nearly enough time to fully enjoy such a beautiful country and hope to return to mainland SE Asia for a trip to include Vietnam and Laos.  I am so glad I went there with my friend Katie who has spent the past year working in Battambang and was patient enough to withstand my ceaseless questioning about Cambodian life. 

We flew into Phnom Penh from Kuala Lumpur last Thursday and checked into this adorable little hotel she had booked for us- across the street from the Tuol Sleng Prison from the Khmer Rouge days, a very sobering place to visit.  While Katie did some errands for the café she is helping open in Battambang, I had all day Friday to explore Phnom Penh and was pleasantly surprised at how livable a city it is and how cool the weather was!  I toured the National Museum, the central market, Wat Phnom, the riverside tourist strip, and the Russian Market, famous for cheap knock offs of Western brand clothing and tons of beautiful silk scarves.  Friday night we caught a six hour bus up to Siem Reap and the sweet digs Katie got us at the Golden Banana.  Maybe resting and taking this easy would have been the best decision for the day before running a 10K, but instead I spent the entire next day wandering around and climbing up temples at Angkor Wat.  There are so many temples and they are all so spread out that everyone rents tuk tuks for getting around.  I was able to see about four of the most popular temples, Ta Phrom, Preah Khan, the Bayon and Angkor Wat just in time for sunset.  They were truly amazing and I relished every time I was able to escape the hoards and wonder at them in peace.  I hope to go back some day and explore some of the more remote ones but I am extremely happy with what I was able to see.

The next morning Katie and I woke up bright and early (even though I was still a tad bit sore from my hiking the day before!), grabbed some bananas, and headed to the race.  Thankfully it started before 7am so the weather was still cool and we were actually shivering on the tuk tuk drive.  As my first 10K race ever it was exciting to run with so many people from around the world and especially touching to see the disabled participants as the race was put on as a benefit for Cambodian land mine victims.  The race path started in front of the main Angkor Wat temple and then meandered through the forest and around a few other temples.

 

Afterwards we headed back to the hotel for a little rest and then it was massages and drinks to celebrate my 24^th birthday!  I don’t think I could have spent the day any better.  In the evening we headed to Katie’s home in Battambang for a little more celebrating with wine and a local favorite vegetable curry dish.  Monday I had the whole day in Battambang and we started out with a 30K bicycle tour that visited some local home industries including rice paper makers, a rice wine operation, and a place with the best rice cakes I have ever had.  It was fun to see local life and compare it to Indonesia, Cambodia is definitely years behind in development.

Finally, on Tuesday an early morning bus ride back to Phnom Penh let me see a bit more of the countryside, then I took a quick visit to the National Palace before flying home to Jakarta.  I have never taken a trip with such a packed schedule like this but I am so glad I got to see so much and enjoy it with a friend!

Revisiting Kuala Lumpur

Hello from the Malaysian capital, Kuala Lumpur, and truly one of my favorite cities in Asia.  I came here last February for an extended visa run and this trip has allowed me to explore the city and its surrounding sights a little more.  Primarily when I think of KL though, I think of delicious and cheap Indian food.  After spending my Thanksgiving evening in-flight, as soon as I checked in to my guesthouse here last Thursday, I dropped off my backpack and headed across the street for a 1 am dinner of Masala Thosai.  Delicious.

I came to Malaysia to meet up with my good friend and former co-volunteer in Indonesia, Katie.  I flew in from Jakarta, she from Siem Reap, and we both met at a bus station in South KL to catch a three hour bus up to the Cameron Highlands for a weekend of relaxation, hiking, tea drinking, strawberry picking, cool air, and views of rolling green hills and tea plantations that so sharply contrasted with my last three months in Jakarta.  I will post photos when I get back to Jakarta!

We came back to KL Sunday night for Katie to participate in her VIA conference- I just found out mine will be in Bali in January!  Being here has been interesting to see fellow volunteers that I last saw during our training in Chiang Mai a year and a half ago, and who are coming from working in Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, and Myanmar.  While they are at conference and after I submitted my Indonesian visa application to the Embassy here, I have had time to wander the streets of Chinatown, Little India, go running in the park below the Petronas Towers, and visit an amazing Hindu Temple set in some caves just north of the city.  I continue to marvel at the vibrant diversity you can see on the streets of KL at any moment, but would have to look much deeper to find in Indonesia.  Signs here come in four languages, Tamil, Chinese, English and Malay, so that while I know my Bahasa Indonesia can get me by when speaking with a Malay person, Chinese and Indians here usually just want to speak English with me.  I was amazed yesterday, when going out with co-vols how many of our combined languages came of use.  Katie made everyone a little curious as she skyped back home to Cambodia in Khmer, I spoke Malay with the cab driver to get to the Tamil/Malay movie we went to see, one friend chatted up a group of visiting Vietnamese teachers in his fluent Vietnamese, and afterwards at a Chinese restaurant another friend figured out our orders.  I just wish that when we were debating outside a Burmese restaurant that one of the Myanmar volunteers had been there to decipher the menu...

So it is exciting to see so many people come together, especially now that we have each been working in our posts for over a year and have experienced so much.  Getting such a diverse group of people together in a multi-cultural city has made the experience even more interesting.  I am even more excited now to be heading to Cambodia tomorrow to see Katie's life in Battambang and then to see the temples of Angkor Wat and run the Angkor Wat 10K Race on my birthday on Sunday!

Jambi comes to Jakarta

This last weekend I got to spend time with my oldest Indonesian friend Sumi when she came to Jakarta after attending a conference in Bogor. I didn’t really know what we would do when we met up, but when she said she needed to come by my place first because she had luggage I knew at least that meant she would be staying at my place. We went out for dinner Saturday night and ended up catching the new Harry Potter movie, though since we bought our tickets late, we had to sit in the front row with our necks crooked the whole time.

But it was fun to catch up and just chat with my old roommate/coworker; it was also good for me- a whole 40 hours of non-stop one on one Bahasa Indonesia conversations. It made me think back to when I was new in Jambi and we spoke mostly English with me trying to squeeze in my Bahasa to practice. Everyone at my office told me I would be fine in a few months and sure enough I was despite personal disbelief, and now I wouldn’t even try to speak to them in English. It is also really comfortable to speak with Sumi because she knows my ability more than anyone and our conversation is really smooth. Often when I speak Bahasa with an Indonesian who doesn’t know me, they are so surprised that I can speak their language, and they have their few lines of English prepared, that they are awkward to speak with in the beginning and aren’t really in the “listening to a bule speak Indonesian” mode.
Sunday we went to Blok M, one of the more massive shopping malls frequented by the Indonesian middle class. I found a blouse for $5 and a copy of Rudyard Kipling’s Kim for $3 and called that a pretty successful afternoon. For lunch we grabbed some ayam penyet from a roadside warung and then went back to rest a bit- the heat had been pretty brutal. Dinner was also street food and I really enjoyed this return to more traditional Indonesian life with her after having such a crazy hybrid lifestyle in Jakarta. I also really enjoyed being the host after all that Sumi has done for me. When Monday morning came I helped her catch a bus to the airport and promised I would come back to visit Jambi again in the spring.

Livestock everywhere, must be a holiday

It was almost impossible to miss that yesterday was Idul Adha, the Day of Sacrifice in Islam and one of the most important days of the Hajj pilgrimage. This day is most visibly marked by a nationwide mass slaughtering of goats and cows where families will buy one of these animals and then give away most of the meat to the poor. And remember this is Indonesia, where freezers, if you are lucky to have one are the size of a lunch box, so this meat is eaten immediately!  In local communities, mosques are usually the center of activity and people give according to their individual means so the poor can receive this charity.

The first evidence that this holiday was approaching were the large banners that pop up around town advertising the prices of “korban” (the animals to be killed) and contact number for you to order your own. Soon one noticed that livestock was entering Jakarta from all sides. You might see a truck barreling down the highway with a lone bull in the back, or maybe a goat tied to a tree in front of a shop down town. But most common were the random holding areas where these animals will wait their fated day in patience. I was somewhat surprised to see one pop up in my little neighborhood (it went next to the broken badminton court), but even more surprised to see one in the front parking lot of the National Ministry of Education with about 30 cows. A friend of mine even recounted standing outside of Grand Indonesia, one of the nicest shopping malls in Jakarta, and witnessing a herd of goats run across her path with seemingly no one in charge of them!

The evening azan on the day before also made it impossible to ignore the holiday because it lasted for almost five hours! Now I am not one to complain about a little call to prayer, in fact I think it is a beautiful sound. But I think my neighborhood mosque needs some singing lessons because it is just painful to listen to them struggle through, especially at 10:30pm when I want to go to sleep!

The day of Idul Adha is a national holiday and was a perfect mid-week day off. I avoided any animal butchering and went on a adventure to find some cheap headphones. And it did turn out to be a travel adventure within the city; I ended up taking four different kopaja bus lines that I had never ridden before and befriended a group of giggling 12 year-old girls who seemed to want to escort me between bus transfers.  The trip was a success as I once again can listen to music on my morning runs and I avoided having to see any animal butchering.

Rubber Time

Last week I made the mistake of arriving on time to a seminar. It was scheduled for 9am and my coworker even advised me to leave at 8am in case the traffic might delay my arrival. Following my more realistic estimation, I left at 8:30am and arrived at 8:55am- to a completely empty conference room and overly eager greeters. Should have known this was coming. Jam karet, or rubber time, is pervasive in Indonesian society- even the airplanes are notorious for being late. Last month I was invited to attend Tifa’s Board Meeting so that I could learn more about the grant-making process and I was surprised to realize, when I showed up at exactly 12pm, that even though the meeting was held at fancy Jakarta hotel it could still begin two hours late. Thankfully another coworker showed up on time and we got a head start on the buffet lunch as we waited for the others.

Honestly, by now I kind of enjoy jam karet; the luxury to leave and show up whenever is most comfortable for you without worrying that others will find your tardiness rude. The thing I just can’t understand is why do some Indonesian’s still show up on time and how do you know for sure if an event will be late? No one wants to make the mistake of assuming it won’t start on time but then arrive rudely 20 minutes after an event has begun.

I have found a couple consistencies thankfully. Internal office meetings, never start on time in Indonesian offices; conferences or seminars with attendees from different organizations, also never start on time, and moreover, showing up late is completely fine, as is not silencing your cell phone to a string of text messages announced to everyone by some popular hip hop song or even holding a whispered conversation. I know that this custom hasn’t pervaded the community of Westerners here yet because when I showed up late to a breakfast with friends from the embassy and blamed it on the traffic, my apology was necessary. Beyond that I am still testing this phenomenon out, kind of feeling my way through the dark and trying not to make any blunders.

Jakarta Update

The thin layer of dust on cars in Jakarta was pointed out to me by a complaining coworker yesterday.  Some of the ash from Mt. Merapi’s explosion has apparently made its way west to Jakarta.

And on another note, even though Obama almost had to cancel his trip to Indonesia because the ash made Jakarta flight travel temporarily dangerous, Obama has proven that Jakarta’s traffic congestion really can get worse after all.  Maybe less people will complain that his visit is for less than 24 hours once they can get home in reasonable time.

Luxuries of the Big City

Being in Southeast Asia has resulted in me becoming somewhat addicted to massages.  It is a habit that I am afraid will be difficult to fund when I return to the US, so I am thankful that won’t be happening anytime soon.

Yesterday afternoon I found a pleasant café (which I rode a kopaja to without incident!), and settled in for a long afternoon of working on graduate school application essays.  Feeling satisfied with my work but a little in the neck after peering over a laptop for too long, I decided to treat myself to a massage.

This was my first massage in Jakarta, yes I had gone a whole month and a half without, and it definitely was a different experience from the massages I used to get in Jambi.  To begin with, it was $11 for the hour compared to the $2.50 in Jambi (as a bule I paid $.50 extra since I was larger than Indonesians).  Additionally, the massage was conducted on a real massage table, in a well-established salon and I had a nice thick towel to cover me.  I found this quite disimilar to the thin carpet on the floor of a neighbor’s living room where I would be wrapped in one of the woman’s floral sarongs.  The woman at Bersih Sehat was also very professional and sensitive to my needs, even using some aromatherapy, which further contrasted with the women in Jambi who would massage the same area over and over until I contorted in pain, all the while releasing a continuum of grunts and even burps from their physical exertion.  So it was a pleasant but pricier experience; for me, a little Jakarta culture shock all over again.

Hope noone else saw that

The other day I thoroughly embarrassed myself when I slipped and fell as I was getting off a Kopaja, one of Jakarta’s broken down looking public buses.  As normal, the bus itself never fully ground to a stop, so when I leapt off it I was already a little unstable.  The mud, black with traffic pollution my tumbled landing and when I stood up, hoping vainly that the people waiting at that bus stop hadn’t noticed by embarrassment, both of my knees were stained black.  Frustrated but stubbornly determined, I continued to transfer and get on another Kopaja that would take me to the coffee shop Anomali for my planned afternoon of writing grad school application essays.

Later that night though, when I met a friend from my office, Arini, for some street food and to see a batik exhibition, I relayed my embarrassing story.  Her laughter, not restrained in the slightest, indicated my “specialness” in this incident.  It’s true I have never seen anyone so much wobble no matter what speed the bus was going when they alighted.  And being the only foreigner I have seen to ride these buses, I must have played my part well as the foolish white person seemingly lost in Jakarta.  Arini finally informed that the trick is to lead with your left foot, since even though it is not intuitive to do that, it is more stable.  I have promised that next time I will try the left foot, and try not to make a fool of myself on busy intersections.

Haram vs. Halal

While most people know that pork is forbidden to Muslims too eat, recently I learned of a new food that apparently falls into the same category of Haram foods, it is frog.  On a bus ride somewhere or other my conversation with two Indonesian friends went on to talk about strange foods we had or hadn't tried before (and living in Asia that list is very, very long).  Frogs, surprisingly, came up and my friend pointed out that she could not have eaten them because they are considered haram since they live on both land and water.  Now, I don't think I am the only one to consider that a strange justification.  So I decided to look into it, and did you know you can find answers to what is haram or halal on websites ranging from Islamic Awakening to Wiki Answers?  Well according to the former website, frogs are "regarded as revolting and unclean."  Peacock meat, on the other hand, is halal and good to go.  Considering I have had peacocks my entire life that was a little more disturbing- besides the surprising fact that these animals even come up for debate!  Wiki Answers just had a simple answer, haram.  Guess I am still learning new and fascinating things all the time!

Work + Travel = Awesome Long Weekend

This morning I flew back to Jakarta after a four-day conference about Protecting Migrant Workers on Lombok Island, just east of Bali.  I traveled here last February when Preethi came to visit me from Australia, but this time the focus was on researching the situation of Indonesian migrant workers and attending a conference put on by several of the Tifa Foundation’s partner NGOs.

The conference brought together about 30 participants from different NGOs, government offices, paralegals, and academics whose work and passion is on helping protect and educate migrant workers and their families.  This particular region of Indonesia has one of the highest rates of migrant workers, mostly due to pervasive poverty.  They generally travel to countries such as Malaysia and Saudi Arabia, legally or illegally, to take on jobs in places such as factories, palm oil plantations, and as domestic workers.  Ideally these men and women, often just teenagers, go and work for a year or two and send home enough money for their family eat a little better and maybe even build a new home.  Unfortunately, cases of abuse, unpaid wages and general maltreatment are incredibly common.  The worst trend I heard was of women who worked abroad as domestic worker, generally the toughest positions, and their husbands used the money they sent home to get married again!  These women returned to no home and a broken family. 
 
I spent my time listening to the conference attendees share their experiences with casework, public education, and struggles, and also interviewing both former and potential migrant workers, government immigration officials and other activists.  Previously I had only been mildly knowledgeable of this issue, but the trip was incredibly enlightening and I am facing a few writing assignments on my findings.  The interviews with locals also put my Indonesian to use!

Rice paddies, palm trees, and thatched houses of rural Lombok Island.

Lunch with migrant worker activists, the local specialty: freshly caught and grilled fish.

Village kids where I was interviewing former migrant workers.  Every Indonesian kid I have met loves to get their photo taken and then see it on the camera, more excitement comes if this is done over and over and over again.

 

The surprisingly nice resort where the conference was held.  But I forgot my swim suit...

The human victims of environmental degradation

A third Indonesian farmer has just recently been attacked and killed by a rare Sumatran tiger, and that is only counting since the end of summer.  The most recent victim, a 25 year-old chili plantation worker, was killed at the most northern tip of Sumatra in Aceh while two previous Sumatran attacks left dead a palm oil worker in September and a rubber plantation worker in August.

This unfortunate trend has been attributed to the rapid, and often illegal, deforestation in Sumatra that pushes tigers out of their habitat when trees are cut down for timber or to make way for crops, in particular palm oil plantations.  This then forces the animals such as tigers and elephants into closer contact with people.  Last spring it was big news in Jambi when an elementary school just a couple hours away was horribly frightened by two tigers that approached it in the middle of the school day.

The Nature Conservancy estimates that Indonesia's forests are disappearing at a rate of about 300 football fields an hour.  While the government has made some encouraging promises about halting deforestation, tangible positive results are still yet to be reported.

Indonesian cheesecake

The Indonesian affinity for cheese flavored foods is seemingly unlimited.  This, literally, cheese cake was generously provided by the office cook for our 3pm snack today.  It was essentially cheese sprinkled and baked into the top of the butter-flavored cake. Yum.

Food for thought

Yesterday afternoon, over a meal of chicken satay and fresh mango juice with friends from the office, I learned a new bit about Indonesia’s quirky culture.  People here believe that if you bite the inside of your mouth, like accidentally while eating, it means that somewhere, someone is talking about you.

It's like an entrance exam

Thankfully the Indonesian government has recently rejected a lawmaker's proposal to subject girls to virginity tests before they can enter public high schools.  Unfortunately that lawmaker is from my former residence in Jambi and was very serious in proposing this policy as a viable response to the perceived increase in premarital sex.  When I was in Jambi working on women's reproductive health issues, youth pregnancy was a serious issue we dealt with and a major article came out last spring about the shockingly high rate of premarital sex in Jambi, so I understand the concern.  Still, this proposal is appalling and would be a gross violation of women's rights.  How were they planning to address high school boys?

http://www.thejakartaglobe.com/home/indonesia-rejects-proposal-to-subject-girls-to-virginity-tests/398505

Fitting in here

When I made the decision to work in Jakarta I knew that it would be a very different experience from Jambi, but the change in lifestyle is nevertheless striking to me since it is within the same country.  Granted, Jakarta itself does have extreme disparities between the haves and the have-nots.  Walking around Jakarta’s fancy shopping malls though, I feel ironically as one of the have-nots among the Louis Vuitton-laden Asian shoppers but when I step outside and get on my Kopaja 640 going home, I am immediately transformed into the only white person crazy enough to ride the public buses and offered the only seat in its crammed interior.

In the meantime while I adjust to this new reality, I have begun testing out the waters of Jakarta’s social scene and am ever surprised to see how tightly connected the expat community is here.  Even with the few American friends I have so far, they all seem to have friends in common with me or another one of my friends.  I have also learned that this connecting is generally done at happy hours around the city, and that the Foreign Correspondents Club, among some bars, provide regular FREE happy hours.  Now that is something that can let me connect to the professional expat scene on my volunteer budget.   

Belonging to a different realm of Jakarta, my friends from the office are fairly professional and straight-edged kind of Indonesians in spite of the available alternatives that come from Western influences mentioned above.  When they choose to socialize it falls in the normal shopping or movie going trips to Jakarta's abundant shopping malls.  While this can be fun in small doses, I doubt how fulfilling it will be in repetition.  Plus, an American friend already got pick pocketed in his first week at one!

Well here’s to a very different year to come.

A Return to Traditions

Jakarta has resumed its usual hustle and bustle with the end of Idul Fitri and the mass return of office workers and reopening of government offices and business.  I got back from Jambi last Wednesday with a distinct thankfulness for now living in a city and all that life can offer.  On one hand revisiting Jambi was a wonderful experience, full of missed friends and fond remembrances of that nondescript town.  But having experienced life in Jakarta for just a week already, I was overwhelmed with how incredible the difference of living conditions (and costs!), people, vibrancy and possibilities really is between the capital and Sumatra.  I am more appreciative now of where I lived the last year and the unique opportunity I had in experiencing such authentic Indonesian life.  Now I feel a bit like the village girl moving to the big city with my constant awe and excitement about the opportunities this new experience offers.

The week and a half back in Sumatra was not only for reconnecting with old friends, coworkers, and neighbors, but in response to Povi's invitation to celebrate the Muslim holiday with her family in Kerinci.  I knew this would be a unique opportunity to observe this Indonesian version of Christmas and Thanksgiving rolled into one, and at the most traditional village level of society.  So I uncomplainingly suffered through the 12 hour bus ride through the mountains over washed out roads and was pleasantly greeted by Povi’s entire extended family who had come from all over Sumatra (and many from just around the village) to celebrate together at her grandmother’s house.

The next five days became a fairly easy, even languid, routine of cooking, napping, eating, paying visits to friends and family in the village or receiving guests, and most commonly just chatting with all the family reposed on the living room floor, kitchen floor or front yard.  On September 10^th I joined the family to the local mosque for the prayers marking the end of Ramadan.  It was quite a sight to see everyone dressed up in their finest traditional clothes and colorfully clad worshippers were in such abundance that prayer mats spilled out of the mosque and some even had to pray in the street.  I myself donned a makeshift scarf jilbab and trying to remain inconspicuous followed along in the prayers as best I could, somewhat reminiscent of when I accompanied Sumi to her neighborhood’s mosque last year. 

In addition to the general holiday atmosphere, Povi’s family was wholly occupied with the preparations for her aunt’s wedding that was held immediately after Idul Fitri.  This required numerous trips to the local market where I followed the women with shopping lists and helped carry huge bags of tomatoes, garlic, potatoes, and chilies.  On the subsequent mornings I woke to find all of the women from the entire neighborhood cooking vast pots of curry and rendang under improvised canvass tents in the front yard.

On top of this relentless social activity, that I could only half understand because it was conducted in the local dialect, I once again found myself the main object of attention and curiosity.  Most of the family and neighbors had never met a foreigner before and Povi assured me it was the first time a Westerner had ever been invited to the village for Idul Fitri.  It was thus my frequent duty to explain myself and to respond to the constant and unabashed stares with a friendly smile- even when I has half naked and wrapped in a sarong getting a traditional massage.

So it was fun and full of new experiences but I was a bit eager to get back to Jakarta, too much idle time really makes me uncomfortable I guess...

 The hillside country of Kerinci around the family's village.

Povi's aunt's wedding ceremony located in the village mosque where the Idul Fitri prayers were also conducted.

Povi's aunt and her husband whose family had to travel to his bride's village for the wedding following the unique maternalistic traditions of this region of Sumatra.

Me and Povi waiting for my bus back to Jambi.

Back!

So I realize I will have to change the title of this blog now that I have relocated to Jakarta after a three month hiatus in the US.  But that will have to wait as I just have time to give a quick update and then will be heading back up to Jambi to celebrate Idul Fitri (the end of Ramadan) with my friends and old coworkers there for a week and a half.

My first week back in Indonesia has been incredibly exciting and allayed any concerns I had about moving to the big city and settling in to a new office and neighborhood.  My flight from the US was, in fact, probably the most exhausting part of this entire process, particularly due to the 8 hour layover in Singapore where I not so reluctantly succumbed to sleeping on the floor with the other Indonesians.  Once in Jakarta I stayed with friends for the first few days as I began work at the Tifa Foundation’s and searched for a kos (Indonesian kind of boarding house) to live in.  Luckily I have found one now, just a 10 minute walk from my office and complete with AC, my own bathroom with a shower and real Western toilet (!), an upright bed as opposed to the mattress on a floor I used in Jambi, and an extremely sweet pembantu (housemaid) who insists on making my tea and cleaning my room.

Fortunately, I have been equally satisfied by my new office where my young and extremely friendly and inclusive coworkers exceed my PKBI friends with their professional attitude and hard work.  Additionally, the human rights and democracy/governance focus of the work here is exactly what I am interested in and I have already connected with the program managers to get apprised of the current programs.  Another pleasant surprise has been the arrival of another American (the entire staff is Indonesian) who is working as a consultant on a Legal Empowerment of the Poor Initiative that I will get to help with.

So, all resettled in Indonesia with what looks to be a fulfilling job, a comfortable and smartly located residence, and a handful of friends around the city, I feel that I have gotten off to a good start and am excited to start exploring the city.  While I have already become more acquainted with the traffic jams and horrible air pollution than I ever wanted to be, I am hoping this will die down a bit after Lebaran- or at least I will be able to combat it with a map and my “fluent” Indonesian. 

Summer break, you could say

Well I am home now, adjusting to the cooler weather and savoring my excitement with all things "developed," which is not limited to showers, espresso machines, cars (with able drivers) and the abundance of good healthy foods.  It has been incredibly uplifting to spend time with the people I missed, a week catching up with friends in San Francisco, a week visiting my sister in Los Angeles, and now back home where I dove headfirst into all the activities I missed in Indonesia: hiking and running with my dog Macy, planting a vegetable garden with my mom where she honored me with my very own Hori Hori Gardening Knife, relaxing at coffee shops with a good book (and not getting strange stares and 'new friends'), and enjoying good beer and wine with friends.

But after tasting the bananas here (didn't know how much good sun-ripening actually does for the fruit), skyping with my Jambi roommate Povi, facebook chatting with PKBI coworkers (this will be how I keep up my language skills this summer), and hearing stories from the field by my fellow volunteers, I find myself almost anxious to go back.  This summer has an important purpose: refreshing myself and facing the dreaded GRE, but I am looking forward to the experiences that will come with working in Jakarta.  A quick note on that since some people asked, I will be volunteering at the TIFA Foundation, an organization that works to strengthen democracy, civil society, and human rights in Indonesia- something I am very interested in learning more about and gaining practical experience.

So I will be taking a break from the blog as I enjoy life in the Pacific Northwest and will be coming back to this in September when I resume my work and adventures in Indonesia.

Homeward bound

The end of my time in Jambi is now definite and coming quickly.  I recently purchased a return ticket back to the US, giving me two weeks to wrap up my work in Jambi and three months to enjoy life at home and see dearly missed friends and family.  I have also confirmed a volunteer position at a human rights/democracy building NGO in Jakarta to begin next fall.  So it's true, I am coming back for more and am really looking forward to another year where I can really hone down my language skills and learn more about the growing civil society and community development efforts in Indonesia.  For now though I am day dreaming about sandwiches, fresh air, and especially the nine hour layover I will have in Tokyo to go get some sushi and revisit the country I spent a year studying in.

Life in the land of frequent floods

During an afternoon of motorbike exploring a little while ago, I crossed over to the far side of the Batanghari River that bisects Jambi city.  Even though Jambi city runs right up the river on my side, the other side of the river is completely rural with a dearth of public services and adequate infrastructure.  The scenery over there is considerably more attractive as a result though, the roads lined with old, colorful traditionally styled houses.

 The ulterior motive of my exploration was to find the batik-making center I heard was located in this ethnically Melayu section of Jambi.  What I did find was significant flooding- the third flood in one month and a record.  When I made it to the batik/cultural center I learned that because of the flooding batik making was on hold since the area below the buildings- now flooded- is where the boiling of fabrics takes place.  With my plans delayed I continued exploring and snapped a few photos along the way:

A family waiting out the floods by drying clothes on their fence.  This photo doesn't show the canoe they take to get to the front door.

Children wading through the flooded dirt roads as they head home from school.

A few boys enjoying the weather and the view from their lofty position on the dome of a mosque.

The wives of brick makers

Yesterday we did some field work in the southern edges of Jambi.  The event combined education and information for local women about family planning, by PKBI staff, and also socialization about the activities of the local chapter for the Indonesian Women's Coalition (whose congress I attended in Jakarta last December).  There were about ten women from the village in attendance and they were very receptive to the information, actively asking questions about different forms of birth control available and offering personal narratives, some of which were concerning for the lack of basic reproductive health understanding they exhibited.

The village itself I found very interesting because it appeared the sole economy was brick making.  Every single house had stacks and stacks of red bricks sitting out to dry and we later walked down and saw the work in process.

The degree to which limited technology can inhibit development was painfully evident as the machine that squeezed out bricks malfunctioned every five minutes and they had to throw out a few ruined bricks and spend another five minutes fixing the machine each time.  And the whole village is dependent on the production of these bricks which they sell for only $60 each batch of 1,000.

And Indonesia wows me again

There is apparently no limit to Indonesian abilities to destroy all existing nutrients in natural foods.  I recently saw one of the healthiest vegetables reduced to the equivalent of a potato chip: behold, deep fried spinach:

A visit from the grandparents

When I woke up this morning to lively chatting out in the living area of my apartment I assumed it was just a friend of Povi’s coming over for a morning gossip session.  When I went to make some coffee I was thus surprised to see two elderly Indonesians and a box full of snacks and fresh fruit and vegetables spread out on the floor.  Povi introduced the elderly couple as her grandparents from Kerinci who were going to be spending the next night at our place until her aunt came to pick them up.  They were quite adorable, surprised by everything about me including that I am the same age as Povi, I don’t need to eat rice everyday, I speak English, which is the same as “American,” and that I can already speak Indonesian too.  Communication with them was somewhat comical since Povi had to almost shout the local dialect so her grandpa’s almost-deaf ears could understand.  I however, only speaking Bahasa Indonesia and a little Bahasa Jambi could not understand this rather rough sounding Bahasa Daerah (local dialect).  When Povi then boasted that she could speak five languages, Indonesian, Jambinese, Padangnese, Kerincinese, and English I had to agree.  I have heard Indonesia boasts over 700 living languages.

So once again I find it necessary to mention how incredibly close Indonesian familial relationships are and that any sense of imposing on one’s family members is unheard of.  What?  Who needs respect of privacy?  I thought this culture odd when I first lived at Sumi’s house as it challenged my comfort when everyone from close to extended family members seemed to constantly be dropping by and I would enter the TV room to see any assortment of relatives I knew and some I had yet to meet.  Povi tells me she has even an even closer family though and the cramped space of our apartment is only saved by the fact that most of her family still lives in their village in Kerinci, West Sumatra.  Nevertheless, her aunt/cousin (yes, inter-family marriages still persist in isolated villages) only lives an hour away and thus frequently drops by for any number of days; and just like at Sumi’s house the family flocks toward the TV.

Another element of family visits is the box of food gifts that come with it if the family has to travel any distance to visit.  On domestic flights here you will see many Indonesians carrying boxes tied up with colorful string and I have no doubt it is food stuffs for their familial hosts.  Not having my own family here I have found it advantageous to be present when one of those visits/gift deliveries occur- I am invariably laden with my own bag filled of goodies from the box.

In addition to snacks of salak fruit and cassava chips, on this family visit I was also treated to stories of the old couple’s Hajj trip last fall- the price of which is now up to a staggering $4,000 for Indonesians who may spend their whole life saving for this exceptionally important pilgrimage.  Grandma told me that the Americans they met in the Holy Land were extremely generous and kind while the Indians they saw were pushy and very “black.”  Fortunately, in grandma’s own words “Orang Indonesia kecil kecil, cabai rawit,” roughly translated as Indonesians are small like chili peppers, so they may be small but are still spicy- possibly the cutest thing to hear from a little seventy-something year old woman.  She then proceeded to show me how her shortness allowed her to squeeze her way through the crowds all the way to the front.  Indonesians are very aware of their short nature but in this case it happened to come in handy.  If you have even seen photos of the vast crowds of pilgrims at Al Haram Mosque it is undeniably both awful and inspiring, making her actions even more humorous to imagine.

So I may be spending the rest of the day chatting with these old gems who have already invited me to their home for Lebaran next September and to a traditional ceremony in the village next weekend.

Hurray for brown rice

Last weekend I took a quick trip to Jakarta to meet with the staff at an NGO I may volunteer with after finishing up with PKBI.  During this trip though, I took the opportunity of visiting one of those international grocery stores that provide foreigners with the comforts of home but that Jambi certainly does not have.  Mindful of my exiguous baggage space I purchased just a bag of organic brown rice and a small bottle of olive oil.  Definite life staples if you ask me.  Well yesterday I cooked some of the brown rice to go with the mix of tempeh and veggies I had cooked and oh my goodness I have never enjoyed brown rice so much before!  The nutty taste and texture of whole grains was incredible and I am sure my body is thanking me after almost a year of white rice and white bread.  Today cooking with olive oil instead of the uncomfortably low-grade palm oil that is used ubiquitously here was also a satisfying appeasement to my body.  Just a small step as I try to take care of myself here.

My first Indonesian political rally

With Jambi’s gubernatorial election coming up, known as a Pilkada, a few weeks ago I went to see one of the candidate’s big rallies for announcing his running mate.  As the first candidate to name his candidate for deputy governor, Hasan Basri Agus (popularly called HBA) drew quite a crowd to the stage and rally set up in Jambi City’s government office district.  I was meeting some friends there who are on the candidate’s “Success Team,” i.e. main campaign volunteer team.  Even though I didn’t quite know the way there, once I was headed in the general direction, swarms of truckloads of campaign t-shirt sporting locals converged on the correct road and I followed these horn honking and identically dressed supporters to the already assembled crowd.  I couldn’t even get my bike close to the rally because of the crowd and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to find my friends until I utilized my general stand-out characteristics as the tallest and whitest person in Jambi and just waited to be found.

The long list of speeches by long-winded political officials had already begun but the event was spiced up a bit by an MC that periodically chimed in with “Hidup HBA! Hidup HBA!” and a few semi-famous traditional singers/dancers brought in from Jakarta to entertain the crowds.  This particular candidate appeared to enjoy a bit of a lead with support from most of the major political parties.  One of those announcing its support was PKS, the largest Islamist party in Indonesia, and it was interesting to observe the small crowd of PKS party members with their banners waving.  The women were some of the most conservatively dressed I have seen in Jambi; none were wearing the burqa or niqab that are only sparsely used in Indonesia, but they did follow the rules of covering all of their body except for their hands and face, evident by their wearing socks under their flip flops and wearing their jilbabs in a very conservative manner, not at all in the fancy, tighter fitting styles of my coworkers.

In regards to campaign clothing though, I was able to get my hands on a campaign t-shirt from the friend on HBA’s campaign committee.  My friends now taunt me as a HBA supporter but I claim it is just a souvenir, not wanting to get mixed up in political favoritism.

But the important part of the rally: HBA’s candidacy speech and his announcement of running mate.  I listened carefully and was not surprised to hear the normal string of campaign promises: better schools, more hospitals, empowerment for farmers, city development with better roads, electricity and infrastructure, and overall a province that will move forward and develop in a prosperous and safe way.  In fact I think he used every single campaign promise he could make.

Now that a couple weeks have passed since the rally, it seems that HBA did himself a disservice by announcing a running mate who was relatively unknown to the public and consequentially fell from the leading position when two previous candidates for governor joined forces with one taking the deputy governor candidate position.  By combining strengths with one candidate a former Bupati from Western Jambi Province and the other a former Bupati from Eastern Jambi Province they have covered a lot of loyalties.  It will be interesting to see how the election pans out since this second pair announced their candidacy late and they received fewer political party endorsements.  Nevertheless it doesn’t seem to be hurting their popularity and momentum may even be growing but only time will tell.

The most natural job

After only waiting eight months into my time in Jambi I have finally embraced teaching English as a part-time income source.  The acute need for English teachers has fallen on me with the realization that I am now the only native English speaking resident of Jambi.  Carolyn as the other VIA volunteer left two months ago and the two English teachers I knew of finished their contracts a few weeks ago and immediately flew home to Canada.  As a result, I now carry the special honor as the city’s prized native English speaker: Jambi University English majors track me down at work to interview me for their class assignments, the private teaching center Richmond English where I have started is desperate to have me teach as many classes I can, and after taking on one private student, I have opened the floodgate to all others seeking private lessons with a native English speaker.

Well last week saw my first classes at Richmond English as the new teacher, Miss Jenny from America, and I have to admit I thoroughly enjoyed it.  Both of my classes are a small mix of high school/university students and they are extremely friendly and interested in learning.  The other English teachers are really friendly also, and I am learning a bit about the unique characteristics between ethnicities within Indonesia.  Interestingly, much of the staff is Christian Bataknese from Northern Sumatra and Medan.  Bataknese are known in Indonesia for speaking loudly, I will confirm this, and also, as Christians they are more likely to be interested and skilled with English compared to Indonesian Muslims.  While I don’t have any facts to back up this generalization, just commentary from my Indonesian friends, but I do remember the one time I attended evening prayers at the mosque behind Sumi’s house during Ramadan and my ears pricked up when I heard the Imam say that for Muslims it is more important to study Arabic than English.  I would be interested to learn what sort of real implications this kind of belief has had and continues to have on Indonesian English ability.

But back to English teaching, the one private class I am doing right now is for a friend of my coworker who is preparing to take the TOEFL.  Indonesians that want to pursue higher education degrees are often confronted by the requirement for English proficiency- a skill the majority of Indonesians lack.  I see this with my coworkers at PKBI when they try to apply for scholarships to get a Masters degree abroad but then are refused because their TOEFL score doesn’t quite meet the standard.  I guess this is necessary to distinguish those who are driven and deserve such opportunities.  The woman who is currently paying me to give her private TOEFL lessons is clearly much more committed than my coworker who never tried to use me to study English before her test, even though that is one of my duties as an English resource, and she consequentially failed the test.

Vacation Photos

Claire and I happy and reunited at last

The main mosque in Banda Aceh, famous from photos showing it as the only standing structure left after the tsunami

Yes, that is a boat that was blown up onto some houses by the tsunami in Dec 2004, it has been preserved as a memorial

The water right outside our bungalow with spectacular snorkeling

Claire, Katie and me enjoying our last night on Pulau Weh in our awesome bungalow

The lush scenery of Bukit Lawang in North Sumatra

The orangutan with her baby I saw at the park's feeding center

I will upload more trip photos to my Flickr account soon...

Aceh, scuba diving, and orangutans

I arrived back in Jambi on an egregiously delayed flight last night after a week and a half of exploring some of the northern wonders of Sumatra.  After a few days of hanging out with Claire in Jambi and showing her around we flew up to Aceh where we met up with Katie, a former volunteer in Indonesia and good friend.  We spent a day seeing tsunami memorial sites, the mosque famous for being the only building left standing in the city center after the tsunami, the memorial museum ridiculed for its massive budget while so many people still do not have homes, and tasting the infamous Acehnese coffee that I grudgingly had to admit it was even better than Jambi coffee.

Early the next morning we caught a boat to Pulau Weh, an island off the northern tip of Aceh famous for its diving.  After traipsing around the island a bit we settled on a bungalow thats position on stilts right above the tropical ocean and hammock furnishings were hard to beat.  The next five indulgent days were spent relaxing, reading, snorkeling in the clear waters ten feet away and scuba diving until we all developed head colds and didn’t want to risk danger of deep water pressure.  I have to say that the diving was a bit better at Pulau Bunaken where Katie and I visited last September but the relaxed, oceanside living was incredible.

On Friday, Katie headed back to Cambodia and Claire left for Thailand so I flew to Medan and spent a couple nights in Bukit Lawang, a small town in the hills and rainforest when an orangutan sanctuary has been run for years.  On the first morning I paid to enter the park and went to the feeding platform where we saw two adult orangutans and baby swing down from the canopy for a supplementary meal of milk and bananas.  After years of being fascinated by orangutans at the zoo it was truly an incredible experience to see them up close in the wild.  After the hour viewing was up I got some lunch, floated around in the river, and hiked a bit.  Later in the day my room on the side of a hill looking down at the river and playful monkeys made a good place to read while the rain down poured. 

The next morning I caught the public minibus back to Medan and a plane destined for Jambi.  Content with a week and a half of exploring and excited for the endless list of travel destinations that Indonesia holds, I have to say that I think I may live on the coolest island in the world.

Green community in Sumatra

I am just finishing up one great week and about to catch a flight and start another week of fun, this time on the scuba diving, island getaway of Pulau Weh off the Northern tip of Aceh, Sumatra.  I am also very much looking forward to seeing Banda Aceh, an Indonesian city frequently in the news for its unique culture and turbulent history that have augmented its importance in Indonesia.  The reason (or excuse) I am taking off work for this trip, is the  long anticipated arrival of my wonderful friend Claire in Jambi this week.  It has been incredible to have a friend from home visiting me, getting to catch up face to face after months of just using Skype and showing off my little world in Jambi.  The heat and spicy food have been quite a shock to her but she is trucking through it and enjoying exploring and seeing all the strange sides of Indonesian daily life.

Work has also been interesting with an all-day seminar on global warming yesterday.  It was really encouraging to see NGO and government officials come from all over central Sumatra to discuss the quickly diminishing forests, the UN's REDD (Reducing Emissions from Degradation and Deforestation) program that carries great hope for solving one of Indonesia’s most pressing issues, and also draw attention to the native people, the Orang Rimba, who live in and off the forest and whose livelihoods are endanger along with the forests.  Of great personal interest, it was strange to see three other foreigners in attendance (in Jambi?!), representatives from international NGOs with interest in the area.  Later that evening the environmental NGO, Warsi, that put on the seminar also held a party at their office, complete with bamboo torch and solar lighting, traditional musicians, singers, and stations of all sorts of Indonesian food.

This morning before our flight to Aceh I am heading on a little outreach trip with my coworkers to talk with women street-workers about the importance of using contraception.

Simple joys of Sumatran life

In Indonesia, around the world, and across the US, hanging out with good friends has made wherever I am home.

Road rules

I have been meaning to write something about Jambi’s insane traffic for some time, mulling possible introductions as I adapt to the culture of weaving and honking one’s way through traffic.  Tonight seems like the most fitting time to write about this topic though since I just got into my first traffic accident.  I swear it really wasn’t my fault.  Traffic in Indonesia is notorious for its nightmarish congestion and paucity of law abiding drivers only encouraged by the lack of law enforcing officers.  Jakarta is much worse in comparison and I have heard over 100 people die every day in accidents there.  It all stems from the lax driving rules and hazardous consequence of drivers that do not undergo any driver’s training or testing as we do in the US.  I am even afraid when I get in my roommate’s car because she is honestly challenged at maneuvering and… um… going straight.

In Jambi, during just a short drive through town it is common to see multiple motor bikes driving against traffic along the side of the road and many cars and bikes crossing the center line as if it allows them a special passing lane and is not actually endangering many lives by challenging oncoming traffic.  That is just called “passing on the right side” (remember we drive on the left side of the road here).  But I like to call it the “third lane.”  So I haven’t gotten accustomed to this and pay close attention to the cars that may abruptly stop in front of me and the motor bikers whose next direction is impossible to predict.

Today though, all my care to avoid collision was not enough when a woman drove her motorbike directly across the road in front of me.  There was no real intersection here, no stop sign, but she wanted to cross the road.  I slammed on my brakes but I still hit her side on and we both fell off our motorbikes.  What followed was the normal swarm of Indonesians that love to see an accident as well as a few helpful guys that pulled me and my bike out of the road.  Yelling at someone in a foreign language is actually quite fun too but I have to point out that she started that part too.  I left the scene in a little bit of shock with a bloody elbow and foot but nothing serious.  I had been on my way to meet a woman I give private English classes to and she immediately shuttled me to the hospital to get the wounds cleaned and even paid for the bill!  After our class I went home to relax a bit, and when the slight whiplash set in later in the night I was happy to have a good friends who could relate and also give a dang good Indonesian massage.

What are we doing here?

There are many times when I feel disillusioned by the amount of time my coworkers spend chatting and seem to be working – as – slow – as - possible.  As a fully indoctrinated member of the American work ethic, it has been a challenge to get my head around the nation-wide prevalence of this activity level in Indonesian offices.  There are other times, however, when I am extremely impressed and struck by the profound importance and capacity for life-saving impact that is PKBI’s work.  This morning we had networking/informational meeting with midwives from two of the poorest sub-districts in Jambi city.  Midwives are the primary provider of maternal and reproductive health in Jambi and after noticing that we were experiencing a lack of communication and referrals between these midwives and our clinic, it became imperative that we strengthen this relationship.  Our clinic has higher medical capacity than home-based midwives, has a 24-hour staff, and offers services that midwives do not have the resources or skills to offer, such as abortion.  A large part of the meeting was devoted to educating midwives about the process, prevalence, and importantly, the actual legality of abortion.  It was an opportunity to expand our reach into new boroughs and communities in and around Jambi.  It also reminded me how much we are needed, not only by the clients we help each day, but by serving as an established leader in women’s reproductive health in a city where the government has yet to adequately address or acknowledge the widespread tribulations facing women.

More rice anyone?

I finally had that defining moment in Indonesian life and cultural adaptation: my meal was just not complete without rice.  It was Wednesday after work and a visit to the gym when I decided to try out its first floor restaurant famed for its culinary style.  Now I didn’t know exactly which dish was the famous one so I tried the one that was listed at the top but I didn’t recognize, the “Kondro Bakar.”  The restaurant proprietors told me it was like satay but with beef.  Ok, but they did not mention that the satay skewer stick in this dish was actually a bone with comparably thickness to my wrist.  So I took home the hunk of beef on a bone, smothered in peanut sauce, with a side dish of some sort of broth.  Even though by the time I got home from my workout I was starving, looking at this meal I just could not bring myself to eating it without rice!  I knew it would take half an hour to cook but without the rice the meal just looked so empty, even with this massive side of animal beckoning me.  So I cooked the rice like a good Indonesian and after an excruciating wait, finally got to enjoy the dish; satisfied and thankful I only ordered a half portion.  Usually I am the strange one at office lunches where I don’t finish my heaping pile of nutritionally devoid white rice, but this night saw me cross the divide.  Sometimes, I will admit now, it really does not count as eating if the meal does not include rice.

Who’s imbibing in Indonesia?

I was told before I arrived in Jambi that drinking and smoking would not be permitted at Sumi’s house and that it was generally frowned upon.  That welcoming kind of set the tone for my social life and was only more reinforced when I first saw alcohol sold publicly- three weeks into living in Jambi- in warm, single beer cans, surrounded by a larger number of nonalcoholic beers.  I was still intrigued by this unexpected but welcomed site and became curious as to who drank those cans and where did they do it?

Well after months of casual and infrequent beers with Carolyn at a little shack by the Jambi river- the ambience of techno music, cockroaches, and trash floating by below your feet can not be exaggerated- my move in with Povi finally enlightened me to a crowd of Indonesians my age that drink casually and aren’t sketchy about it.  What is more interesting is the complexity and secrecy that is required for these young women, my roommate and a few of her friends, to indulge in behavior that doesn’t even come close to the debauchery that goes on in college dorms in America.  Well first off, these girls did not even start drinking until after college.  At that time “no one was really doing it” and they were just focusing on school.  Sounds like good people to me.  Today though, these young women get giddy over half a beer and make sure that none of the neighbors can see their mischievous behavior or the empty cans the next morning.  During the daytime these college graduates hold steady employment teaching English and at local NGOs as translators.  They also pray five times a day and don a jilbab when entering the professional and public spotlight.  But when our friend Jay comes over there is no trace of a veil and her pack of menthols comes out as quick as her laughs.

What amazes me is the double standards and effort that goes into keeping appearances here.  If anyone were to know about my friends evening rendezvous’ with their boyfriends or blatant lack of morals for drinking alcohol, the word would spread like wild fire and tarnish their images.  Boys will start smoking cigarettes at the age of 14 but women should never- not that I am for smoking.  I also don’t need to brag to say that my drinking tolerance- despite serious hibernation here- is still superior to these girlfriends.  From my position though, Saturday night drinking and dance parties on the roof feels so normal and liberating, and for them it seems equally liberating in something they have seen in American movies but know that their culture, at least outside of Jakarta, does not permit.  I hope not to become too much of an enabler here, but I enjoy watching these young women have a good time and I appreciate even more the freedom and independence I have grown up with and still think my morals are doing alright.

The abortion debate continues

At the office last week we held an informal meeting with representatives from other women-focused organizations in Jambi.  The topic was safe abortion; the conditions where abortion is legal in Indonesia, the services our clinic provide for abortion, counseling, and family planning, and why the right to safe abortion is a health concern and women's right that cannot be overlooked.  It was interesting to watch the discussion, all were concerned about the effect on Jambi’s youth, particularly in the case where a 14-year-old had been sexually assaulted by a angkot driver but then also could not legally be allowed an abortion from our clinic.  The discussion between this diverse group of women took another turn when the self-proclaimed pro-life and pro-choice women voiced their views.  While I could not catch every nuance, it all sounded not unalike abortion debates in the US.  One jilbab-clad woman pointed out that after 5 weeks a fetus’s heartbeat could be detected, thus meaning it had a soul and the option of abortion should morally be taken off the table.  My supervisor Helfi argued back that while that is true, in cases where pregnancy can harm the mother’s health or she is truly not ready to have a child, whose rights are greater?  Those of the potential mother or fetus?  In our clinic we provide abortions, or inductions, up to 8 weeks into the pregnancy, and only for married women.

This reminded me of a day last fall when a couple came in to our clinic with the desire to obtain an induction.  After deliberation the couple had come to the difficult decision to terminate the wife’s pregnancy and sought out our clinic.  During counseling it was revealed that the woman's pregnancy was a mere one week over the eight week limit, making her ineligible for the procedure.  With abortion legally out of the question, the couple was left with no choice and took this news home solemnly, reflecting on the impact it would make on their lives.  They already had four young children and did not want to bring a fifth one into the world because the father did not have steady employment and they could not afford more mouths to feed, let alone the schooling and health care children require.  The mother had been taking daily contraceptive pills, but like most busy housewives in Indonesia she occasionally forgot to take a pill at the correct time, thus increasing her chance of unintended pregnancy. 

This issue is something even couples in the US have to consider when realistically determining the number of children they can afford to raise and feed in a healthy and strong family, and thus use family planning methods that suite their lifestyles best.  Unfortunately, family planning services are not as readily available or well-known in countries like Indonesia where limits are also placed on women’s access to safe and legal abortions.  In Indonesia abortion is in most cases illegal and when not, only stringently allowed.  My office is also only one out of the seven PKBI chapters around Indonesia that offer abortion services in those cases that fit the countries vague abortion laws.  But as statistics show, this stringency and denial of women’s right to self-determination only burdens families to bear the costs, frequently that cost is the mother’s life or the children's well-being.

Ibu and bapak, my Indonesian parents

Yesterday I made a visit to my previous residence at Sumi’s house to spend some time with her elderly parents and get my motorbike washed at her nephew’s bengkel around the corner.  When I moved out last month, ibu and bapak told me I had to come over frequently and I have kept my promise visiting every once in a while to chat and let them feed me (if you tallied up everything they have ever said to me, the most common phrase would undoubtedly be “makanlah!” eat!).  They really are the sweetest old village folk and have always been so generous with sharing their home and food with me, putting up with my preference for oatmeal over rice for breakfast, my late (6am) mornings, cup after cup of, egad, unsweetened black coffee, and my bizarre love of reading.

As I crouched on the kitchen floor helping, i.e. watching, ibu chop up vegetables and fry whole fish with a bright red chili paste, I entertained her with stories of my new place.  Our conversations are very simple but also very genuine, she likes to ask me about my "village" in America and tell me what it feels like getting old.  I told her how since there are a lot of trees at my new place it is significantly cooler, we connected over the power outage from the day before that had affected both our parts of town, and I told her how I missed their washing machine because hand washing clothes is hard work that I am not accustomed to.  She agreed with my first two points but then took an unexpected turn and insisted that hand washing was better anyways, “it gets the clothes cleaner.”  Cleaner than with the machine? Really?  Now, I have become accustomed to her seemingly unreasonable rejections of modern conveniences, boiling water to drink instead of using the 5-gallon/30 cent water dispenser in the house and cooking rice outside over a fire because it saves electricity from using the rice maker.   

She also frequently challenges my purchases, “How much did you pay for those mangoes?”  “60 cents a kilo,” and her shocked reply “I can get mangoes for 50 cents in the villages!”  I did somewhat redeem myself when she approved of the motorbike I bought for a “good price.”  But anyways, I could barely believe my ears are she argued the benefits of hand washing- this is a tiny 72-year-old woman mind you.  She may be inexorable when it comes to housework but I didn’t go on to tell her how I caved to the convenience of a laundry service shop on my ride to work.  After a good home-cooked meal and watching some of the popular Indonesian dating show Take Her Out Indonesia with the family, I got on my bike and promised to sleep over next time I visited.

The kite flyers of Jambi

When I got back from my month-long hiatus there were three things I wanted to take care: move out- check, get a motorbike- check, get a gym membership- check.  I found a little gym with decade-old equipment, of course, that is conveniently located on my route home from work everyday, but the real selling point was that there were three other women there among all the men, two of which were trainers!  At any other gym it probably would have just been lots of men trying to change their naturally skinny Asian bodies into the pictures of Western weightlifting champions that line the gym wall.  This gym also was more appealing (and fit better with my lifestyle/budget) than the fancy hotel gym that foreigners are expected to use.  Regardless, all I needed was a place to run and sweat profusely in the overbearing heat without having to many people around to stare/honk/point at me. 
The other day after one of my runs that make my face look not unlike a ripe tomato, I grabbed some water and head to the balcony for some stretching and kite watching.  I am assuming many of you have read Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner and that is exactly what I thought of when I first noticed the abundance of dirty t-shirts and flip-flop clad boys that come out in the late afternoon hours to fly their home-made kites.   Each evening there are a different assortment but on Monday there was an unusual abundance of these boys lingering across the empty space below, flying kites from balconies a little ways off, a few in the street (!) and across the street in a school playground.  All eyes were transfixed upon the floating paper toys in the sky, I counted there to be about 11, careening to and fro and making my favorite time of the day even more atmospheric.  At 6pm when the beautiful colors of dusk have already begun forming from the pollution and dust, the evening call to prayer begins its relaxing melody and calls all Muslims to the mosque, and in this case the little boys home from their kite flying.

 This must be what those kids look like when they are still little.