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.