Film gives insight into taboo issues affecting Indonesian women

Yesterday morning I was on the committee that was in charge of inviting the public to PKBI’s showing of a documentary about politics and issues affecting women’s bodies in Indonesia. The film, At Stake, is an interesting documentary anthology of women’s stories that provides a sometime disturbing insight into issues, such as female circumcision, prostitution, young women being denied pap smears for not being married, the position of lesbians, and the role of Islam in all of this. It was quite an eye opener to see the film and then go back to the office and discuss it. I was particularly blown away when my female coworkers asked me if I was circumcised, admitting that they all were! Another issue that came up was pap smears and it is evident that women (and many doctors) do not understand the real purpose of pap smears due to severe misinformation, thinking if you are not sexually active (i.e. not married yet) you do not need one, even if you are 35! I was asked to create some sort of informational pamphlet in Indonesian for PKBI because it seems that no one realizes this as an important way to catch the development of cervical cancer early on. Anyways, with this film showing all week the office did not work on much else and Friday afternoon everyone took off around 1pm to go to a salon...

It’s durian season!

No one had to tell me what was going on when I started noticing neatly stacked piles of a certain large prickly fruit sprouting up on the side of roads all over town.  I would see at least one man standing guard over his prized goods customers were smelling, weighing and comparing the tricky fruits before paying the $1.50.  It’s definitely durian.  Most people in the US have ever heard of the fruit let alone had the pleasure to try the soft, pungent flesh that is found inside of its spiky shell.  I have had one friend describe the experience to be like eating butter while another said the smell was exactly like mashed onions and garlic, but then sweet somehow.

Even though I had already tried durian once in Thailand, (and did not enjoy it despite my attempt to keep an open mind) when my coworkers at SIKOK called me upstairs to partake in the exciting group experience of dissecting and demolishing a whole durian, I could not refuse.  I was surprised that on this occasion, possibly because it was a “better” durian, I did not particularly dislike the taste/text but did not fully enjoy it enough to have a second piece- until of course I was peer pressured into it by my coworkers that were already licking their fingers.  Now that that “necessary” experience is out of the way I am content to just stick with durian flavored ice cream, an equally creamy but much less potent option.

As Indonesia debates Islam's role, U.S. stays out

I found this article the other day and it gives a good overview of the role and impact of Islam in Indonesia and the different elements working through society under the name of Islam.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/10/24/AR2009102402279.html
I agree that Indonesia has plenty of other issues such as corruption and the rule of law that need help and trying to influence Indonesian religious beliefs so directly can only increase the US's reputation for meddling and targeting Islam when there are more appropriate issues to help fix.

Travel advice should always be taken with a grain of salt

Why does the Lonely Planet think that every traveler is a budding archeologist?  While I definitely agree history is interesting and good to learn about in the place you are traveling, a bunch of bricks isn’t usually a good enough reason to go hours out of your way.  Sometimes I think this popular travel guide book goes overboard in recommending visiting ruins everywhere despite their current upkeep or aesthetics.  The Lonely Planet for Indonesia fairly describes this city I am living in by saying, “Jambi is not an easy place to reach…Jambi is not known as a tourist destination, but [some] have found that nowhere can be more fun than somewhere.”  So far I appreciate this off the beaten path, just an average Indonesian city kind of atmosphere and am happy to go without “tourist sites.”  Still, many Indonesians I have met who want to promote the city’s image have suggested I go visit the ancient Buddhist/Hindu Muaro Jambi temples.  

I had already read about this place from the Lonely Planet’s recommendation and last weekend I was finally privileged to make the trip there myself.  I now believe there should really be a disclaimer that it is not worth coming to Jambi just because there is an ancient site of archaeological interest; I was really much more impressed with the scenery on the drive there than the actual site.  Let me point out it took an hour each way to reach this destination and that is a far distance bouncing on the back of a motorbike.  Visitors coming from a different major Sumatran city first have to suffer 10 hours on a cramped bus just to get to Jambi.  During the drive home, our afternoon then took a turn for the worse when our back tire went flat after when we went over one too many potholes.  Thus began two hours of waiting on the side of the road with the mosquitoes for it to get fixed.  I am content to say that there really are no sites of special interest for tourists here and am now looking forward to more aimless weekend journeys.

Earthquake update

Some people have been curious about recent developments with post-earthquake efforts in Padang since news about the disaster just dropped off the news scene.  USAID actually just came out with a report on the disaster, relief efforts, and the current situation there: http://www.usaid.gov/our_work/humanitarian_assistance/disaster_assistance/countries/indonesia/template/index.html.  According to the report, a total of 1,117 people died and 1,200,000 people were affected by the earthquake.  I talked to a friend who is from Kerinci (site of the second earthquake) and she said they are getting lots of relief supplies but needed help organizing it and handing it out to people.  Rebuilding homes seems like it is going to be the main long-term challenge, people are living in tent camps and its not likely houses will just be rebuilt immediately.  PKBI sent an initial team of medical staff to the site and then a follow-up trip with supplies was made last weekend.  PKBI has also been asked to develop and implement a three-year program with a base in Padang that will provide economic development and health services.  My boss Helfi is just drafting the program proposal so I will give another update further along in the process.

I actually work here too

I just realized I haven’t really been saying much about my job at PKBI. This may be because my job was pretty vague in the beginning with the delay of Ramadan but I am now pretty settled in to the NGO’s activities and am finding my own niche. My most useful role as an American and native English speaker really is helping build capacity among my staff through teaching them English (two classes per week), translating documents, and daily issues where the need to know English becomes a challenge. I also get to join in many activities outside the office. The big thing this week is a free movie filming we are holding at the local movie theater with four documentaries that highlight women’s issues such as human trafficking and domestic workers abroad. We are inviting local officials, NGO activists, community groups, students and the general public to get involved in a dialogue about these issues facing Indonesian society.

I have also been trying to get involved in the HIV/AIDS scene here. The other NGO I work with, SIKOK, only recently lost its HIV/AIDS support/advocacy program due to funding issues and wants to start something back up. So the other night I went to a meeting with local activists and people living with HIV/AIDS where they are working to develop a new organization to carry out support and advocacy activities. I also went with one of our staff members the other day when he gave a talk on the subject at sexual health conference for people from around the province. I will definitely be following the developments but it may follow the same sloooow progress as most projects do in this country’s lax work atmosphere.

Something that is more related to SIKOK’s activities than to Planned Parenthood, but also something I am extremely interested in, is the upcoming gubernatorial elections to be held next March. Sumi and I are planning to carry out some sort of survey on their attitudes and understanding of the electoral process by women and young people here. This is with the plan of carrying out voter education programs once we get the results. With the elections just heating up, we are working to develop a project proposal to get funds from the local government. They other day we had an extremely interesting meeting with the head of the Provincial Electoral Oversight Committee to discuss our plans and he was extremely supportive and passionate about the need for Indonesia to get away from “money politics.” I love paying attention to the campaign posters around the city and even in the villages already to learn about the candidates and the different postures they are taking on. I am so excited to be here for a big election since I arrived in Indonesia just after the presidential and parliamentary elections.

When stopping traffic becomes dangerous

Two reasons have prompted me to begin hiding my hair up inside my helmet and pulling the visor down when I drive my motorbike around town. The first issue is the possibility of attracting attention from the police who have a reputation for pulling over foreigners just to figure out what they are doing in Jambi and I don’t quite have a license to drive legally... The second is attracting attention from everyone else. And this has developed for safety reasons also. Everywhere I go people stare at me, this is not boasting just an annoying truth due to the fact that I look completely out of place to Indonesians who practically never see a foreigner in their city, let alone a blonde woman driving a motorbike.

The issue is that this immediate attention diversion stops them from whatever task they were previously doing and sometimes this task is driving. I have gotten used to it and don’t mind people stopping to stare and yell (friendly) at me, but just don’t do it right in front of me! I want to continue on my way but it is difficult when someone has stopped their motor bike directly in front of me. This often occurs out of nowhere when someone pulls out in front of me, notices I am a buleh (foreign white person), stops, and then I have to slam on my brakes and get all wobbly with my amateur driving skills. Cars and also people walking around on the streets do this too.

So it is strange feeling like it is easier to hide and avoid talking to people just for the peace and quiet of anonymity. It would too exhausting to converse with everyone that wanted to ask questions about why this strange foreigner is in Jambi and what is she doing here, and alone?! On the other hand, during longer rides when I am just sitting behind Sumi on the motorbike, it can be completely enjoyable just to smile at other drivers and watch their reaction to seeing a buleh. For now I am trying to find a balance where I can maintain my safety and peace of mind as much as possible.

Rural family planning efforts

I saw this rusty, old sign in a little village about an hour from the city. It translates as “Prosperous Families: With having small families, we rise, prosperous families.” It is interesting to see how public education about family planning was and is now being carried out.

The lives of coconuts

I remember a number of times at Thai restaurants back in the US where my friends would lament the amount of coconut milk thickening their curry and the outlandish number of calories it contained for them. Living in the coconut capital (I really mean there are mounds of coconuts being sold and carried everywhere), the more relevant thought I often have is, how many calories I can burn from preparing coconut milk? It is a lot of work! But Indonesians, time permitting, prefer to make their own coconut milk rather than buy the cheap packets of pre-made stuff. They consider this one of the many techniques that “make food more delicious.” Also in the list of ways to enjoy your food more is to: 1. Cook rice in a pot over an outdoor fire, rather than using a simple electric rice maker, 2. Eat with your fingers, obviously, and especially for eating fish, 3. Add a little MSG.

As for making coconut milk this is a process that leaves unpracticed workers like me with hand cramps like I just finished a timed writing exam. First task is shucking the coconut from its husk. This is done with a little skill and an old machete; I let Sumi take care of this part. After cracking the coconut open and breaking it into pieces you have to grate it all into tiny shreds (see photo). Then to get the milk from the flesh you mix up the grated pieces in a little water and squeeze fistfuls of the mixture over a strainer with a bowl to collect the milk. This is repeated continuously until there can not possibly be any left. To get more leverage in your squeezing you can put the mix in a cloth and twist until it is so tight that the milk comes out. Now you have a bowl of coconut milk to add to any simmering wok of vegetables and chicken.

Across the river and through the... palm trees?

Today I made the big trip and crossed the Jambi river to the part of town known for its religious conservatism, batik, ancient temples, and higher level of poverty. Only knowing this information from friends’ side comments, the inaccessibility of this part of town has incited increasing curiosity for me until today provided the opportunity to see it for myself. SIKOK, the other ngo I volunteer with manages a network of middle school sex-ed programs in Jambi and today we had to go and visit one of these schools that requires a boat trip to reach it. From the rickety little boat we took, I unfortunately wasn't surprised to see more than one person throwing bags of trash into the river. This only had the effect of reinforcing my aversion to eating fish here since the ubiquity of sludge-like, trash covered rivers in Indonesia is nothing like my image of salmon migrating up clear streams in the Pacific Northwest. But as we continued, the ojek ride to school revealed the town over yonder to be charming in a developing world kind of way. Why is it that wooden houses are immediately so much cuter when they are held up on stilts? Maybe it was the potted plants lining the bridges to each house, or the colorfully painted shutters, or the overgrown marshes and palm trees, but it was all more refreshing that the dirty, cement covered, traffic congested city of Jambi that I live in. When we made it to the school that is desperately in need of a new paint job, we found out that the man who runs the sex-ed program was not there today. So much for our effort, or lack of in regards to Indonesian work ethic and preparedness, but luckily through a few more ojek rides we were able to track down the teacher at his home. With the meeting over and my stomach calling for lunch, it was just another work field trip to see a little more of Jambi and the local efforts trying to expand sexual health education and rights.

A recipe exists!

In case anyone else was curious, my dear grandmother has alerted me to this website for baking bread in a wok: http://chopstickbeateneggs.blogspot.com/2007/04/cruset-more-oven-and-schtuff.html

Life on the back of a motorbike

Last night I road home on the back of Sumi’s motorbike with 150 chicken eggs perched precariously on my left thigh. I understood the responsibility that came with this backseat position but I never anticipated anything like that. When I first came to Jambi I was hesitant to accept the motorbike as my daily mode of transportation, particularly after hearing numerous stories about accidents and deaths that have met those riding motorbikes on Indonesia’s lawless roads. Luckily Sumi is a safe driver and I have become increasingly comfortable, even enjoying the view of the city I get on my daily tours. However, as my comfort level and actual ability to drive the bike myself have increased, my role has changed. For one, Sumi now "lets" me drive us to and from work everyday so as to preserve her forearms from the sunlight and its darkening qualities. Also, my ability to ride easily without needing to use my hands for balance has allowed my hands to be used for other things such holding a 15 gallon water jug in each hand, carrying boxes of dry goods for our shop, or stacks of chicken eggs... And on an unrelated note about the ubiquitous chickens of Jambi: I accidentally stepped on someone’s bag of chickens at the market this morning. I mean, someone had a plastic bag of three live, or at least half alive, chickens and while we were both looking through a pile of tomatoes, I stepped on one of them until it let out a squak. Sometimes I just can’t believe that such ridiculous situations occur in this country where I have to apologize for stepping on a bag of chickens.

Comparing the price of chickens

Being one of very few buleh (white people) in Jambi, everyone I meet here is extremely interested to learn about me and where I come from. Sometimes this only goes as far as the basics: my name, country of origin, if I can speak Indonesian, and if I am married and have children yet (This last one may seem strange to you, but for Indonesians it is far more strange that I am here single. They prefer believing either that I moved here with my husband or am suffering without my husband who still lives in the US). On other occasions, however, my nationality elicits curiosity and further questions about life in America. My host family, coworkers and neighbors often ask me if fill in the blank activity/food is the same “in my village in America.” After the immediate chuckle from thinking about my small hometown that still cannot be described as village, I proceed to answer their question. A similar situation happened the other day while having dinner at Sumi’s friend’s house when the husband wanted to compare wages between the US and Indonesia. I tried to counter his awe at the $6/hour average pay at McDonalds by explaining how much higher the cost of living is in America. I was dumfounded when this man then asked me “How much a chicken cost in US?” He clearly meant to ask me how much a whole, live chicken would cost at the market and then use that number to compare to Indonesian chicken prices. Reflecting on the packaged chicken breasts I usually bought in the supermarket I had to admit that I did not know the price of a chicken in the US. This possibly disappointing end to the conversation was saved when I offered the price of a meal with beverage at an average restaurant. The poor man was blown away by the number so I had to return to emphasizing the wage restaurant workers earned. He then thoughtfully retreated into personally contemplation of things I can only imagine.

Just a village in Sumatra

Two momentous events occurred in my village this weekend: the preparations and celebration for a child’s fist haircut and our little dirt road was paved. In regards to the first incident, I well expected that my immersion in Indonesian life would offer many insights into traditional culture, but an eight-hour celebration of a baby’s first hair cut, attended by the entire village and distant family and friends, was not something I saw coming. Saturday morning Sumi informed me that we needed to go to a neighbor’s house to “help with cooking” for a party the next day. I was subsequently impressed when we arrived to find 40 women already working at various stations, chopping vegetables, squeezing coconut milk from the grated coconut meat, stirring cauldrons of curry, and squatting on the ground while slicing raw beef on sheets of cardboard. Of course the emphasis of this community get together was as much for the women to chat and gossip as it was for them to help out a neighbor in the preparations for the following day’s celebration. The next morning I wandered over to the same house just in time to eat a bit and then watch the haircutting ceremony. A short procession led the grandfather carrying the baby to the front of the gathered villagers- of course dressed up in their best Batik- where he stood as a series of village men took turns cutting the baby’s hair. When this was finished it was evidently time for singing, chatting, and more eating, these alternating until after 3pm when I made my final escape with Sumi.


The paving of my village’s road marked one small step in rural development this weekend. Not only am I happy to be finished suffering the jolting experience of riding my motorbike down the previously rugged dirt path, but the local children also immediately expressed their approval by pulling out every single bicycle they could to play and ride up and down the smooth road. I was surprised to see that the fresh new asphalt extends even out onto the side streets and am curious what kind of effects this will have on village life. Not only will it be easier for people to go into town, but it will also be easier for other people and modern conveniences to reach us.

Anyone know recipes for baking bread in a wok?

I doubt this was a cultural specific advertising tactic. It didn't taste any better than it sounds.

I consciously ate an apple core yesterday. Not sure if it was because I had become more used to eating other sorts of fruits besides apples or if I had just become accustomed to eating the parts of food that I previously would have put aside for the trash. Either way, the action made me reflect on my eating habits here and my vain attempts to introduce some foods from home into my diet. It is hard not being in control of what you eat, particularly when you watch your plate being filled with fried foods and fish caught straight from the polluted murky river that sludges through Jambi city. I crave a good salad and a simple sandwich with whole grain nutty bread. While I have resigned myself to the absence of such basic Western goods, I have tried to make do with what is at hand. This means cooking scrambled eggs and hash browns in a wok and then making crepes only to realize I had no utensils to eat them with! You can learn a lot about a people by the kind of things you find in their kitchen. One look at our kitchen and you would notice the abundance of woks, there are at least four, a massive stone mortal and pestle, just one small sauté pan that I have adopted, and no oven at all! But more significantly, we only have spoons! It’s true; I have yet to see a single fork or dinner knife in our kitchen, just a jar full of spoons. I guess I should be thankful for that one convenience because out in the villages (or even most restaurants) eating with your fingers is the norm. The environment here does give Sumi and I ample opportunities to go papaya hunting, i.e. visiting neighbors and friends known to have papaya trees in their backyards and then asking for whatever is ripe. I fully enjoyed my fresh papaya smoothie this morning after the work it took to knock it out of the tree and catch it in a sarong. So I am still hoping that this culinary confusion created by eating eggs with spoons and crepes with fruit salad by hand like I was dipping naan in curry, will eventually lead to some creative genius in the kitchen where I can make food both palatable and functional.