Getting to know my local immigration officials

With December 9^th being Indonesia’s Anti-Corruption Day, marked by protests around the country against recent corruption cases, it seemed like a prime time to illustrate my ongoing struggle with corrupt and bureaucratic immigration officials in Jambi.  As I am stilling waiting for my work visa to come through, I have been surviving month to month on a renewable “Sosial Budaya” visa.  This, however, requires a monthly trip to the immigration office where the front desk officials have come to know me well.  They clearly like to make my life, or at least that of my work supervisor who has to accompany me, as hard as possible, with each renewal requiring different forms to fill out, more to photo copy and longer waits.  Each time we going there thinking we are fully prepared from the requests from the last visit (two passport photos, the specific pages of my passport photocopied, my passport, and the letter of support from my organization), they still give us more tasks to complete!  It is evident by their behavior, and comments from others in the waiting room, that just a little bit of money would move the process along much quicker.

After the hassle of this last time I was eventually notified that my passport was ready to pick up so I headed there on my own since my coworkers were busy.  The regular desk officials (who I have come up with some descriptive nicknames) were visibly disappointed that I had not brought my “friend” (I suspect they wanted to hassle as many people as possible) but he handed me the passport with its beautiful brand new stamp nonetheless.  Still smiling, the man shattered my joy and relief by announcing that I needed to photo copy this new stamp for them immediately!  Oh the annoyance I felt but also the sense of freedom that I could just take the passport with its stamp and peace out.  Hoping to discourage this request I began to pretend that I did not know where a photocopy shop was or that I had means to get there.  But this did not persuade him and I think he saw the possibility of me just walking out the door with my passport so he then came out from behind the counter and said he would take me himself. 

Now you may ask, doesn’t the immigration office have its own photocopy machine it could use?  Wouldn’t it then be a waste of both our time to go get a photocopy that was never needed previously?  But no, that sort of practical thinking does not often seem to run through the brains of bureaucrats in Indonesia.  So I jumped on the back of the official’s motor bike (while the parking attendants laughed in amusement, possibly since they had seen me arrive on my own motorbike), and we drove the 50 meters to the photocopy shop that I have visited many times on these monthly trips.

The ironic thing is that I thought I was kind of getting back at the immigration officials by making them take me to complete the last task, them having to exert effort on my behalf finally.  In reality though, I learned that this man was happy enough to spend time with a buleh girl and did not even think twice about wasting his time.  Now I have one more renewal on this epic of a visa experience and next month will have to do a visa run to Singapore or Kuala Lumpur and start the whole process over again.  Oh the corruption, bureaucracy, and inefficiencies here!  And they tell me it is difficult to get a visa to go to the US!

Reality of Indonesia's Democracy

This article follows a lot of what I noticed in the difference between studying Indonesian politics from the US and seeing what the reality is on the ground and how people really feel about their "democracy."  These are the issues that impassion my personal research.
http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2009/12/07/the_curious_case_of_indonesias_democracy

Me+blank=laughing Indonesians

I think I could start a series of posts, each elaborating on a different blank that makes my Indonesian neighbors, coworkers, and general observers laugh at me.  This first one at least will cover my experience bicycling.

Those who know me well are familiar with my love for road biking, for being outside it ranks up there with soccer and hiking.  Well, when I first arrived in Indonesia and saw the crumbling roads, the life threatening traffic, and the thick heat, I quickly said goodbye to the possibility of biking for either commuting or exploring.  This changed recently when I discovered an old bicycle in our backyard shed.  I asked the family about it and it turned out to be bapak’s bike that he bought even before Sumi was born (over 33 years ago) and still uses!  I decided to give the antique a try and even though the back tire clanks when I peddle and it is a little too high, I decided I couldn’t not bicycle if I had the option. 

So after choosing 5:30pm as the prime time for biking because the roads are mostly empty with people going home for the evening Muslim prayers, I headed out on my first ride.  Now I thought I was already getting ample attention whenever I ventured around the neighborhood, but I quickly realized that seeing a buleh girl on an old bapak’s bicycle is really out of this world hilarious for my Indonesian neighbors.  Everyone starred, smiled and laughed at me unrelentingly and I got countless thumbs-up from old men walking to the mosque in their sarongs and peci (Muslim cap). 

By the time I got home (to the cheers of “Jeeenny! Jeeeenny!” from the girls across the street) I was in good spirits and ready for my evening mandi.  But before I made it inside, a woman chatting outside with my neighbor announced that she wanted a ride home.  I thought my Indonesian was failing me but sure enough she allowed herself to not exactly hop, as she was on the heavy side, but rather climbed on to theback of my bicycle (the part that is usually used for attaching parcels).  So I swerved and wobbled to her house down the street, working up even more of a sweat, and then was invited inside for a drink and short chat about her kids before I finally headed back home for my refreshing mandi and dinner.

Selling aphrodisiac tea at a store near you...

While looking through photos of my time in Indonesia so far (actually just entertaining a 6 year old girl that hangs out at our office and finds my Bahasa hilarious), I came across one of my documentations of hilarious English usage.  This little phrase was found on top of a stool at a chain coffee shop in Yogyakarta and was accompanied by several other stools with similarly descriptive drink advertisements.  Doesn't it just make you want one?

Indonesian Birthday

As tradition goes in Indonesia, if it is your birthday you are expected to throw your own party for all of your friends or in the grown up world, take all of your coworkers out for lunch.   My 23^rd birthday happened to fall on a Saturday eliminating the option to celebrate at work and I was happy enough to have quiet day with a few friends (while I stressed about how time was passing and there are so many other adventures I want to have!).  We ended up having a really nice time, Carolyn and Sumi’s best friend Yani came over to our house and a woman from the neighborhood came to give us all full body massages.  This turned out to be quite an experience and not at all reminiscent of Thai massages I enjoyed so much a few months ago.  Well, this rather large woman seemed to use the weight of her body to knead my body into mush as she belched a cacophony of burps and other throaty grunts. Indonesians tend to be quite generous publicly with their burping but this woman was over the top to the point they practically echoed.  That may have hindered my relaxation a bit but afterwards we indulged in ice cream we bought from a nearby home industry run by a Chinese family.  Jackfruit is definitely my new favorite ice cream flavor with durian a close second.  Afterwards Carolyn and I took the motorbike to our favorite coffee shop (out of the two that exist in Jambi) for some good pizza and later to a shack on the river’s edge for a few celebratory beers.

Candlelit Stories

Power outages are almost a daily occurrence in Jambi and their regularity has instilled a pattern in life.  If the power goes out around noon I know it will be out for about three hours, leaving me without a fan for the hottest part of the day.  It also regularly goes out at 6pm and then I know it will last for one or maybe two hours.  My family here takes this inconvenience in stride by lighting a few candles and I like to think that I am helping when I loan Sumi my headlamp while we cook dinner in the dark.  Last night with the electricity out, everyone gathered to eat together on the floor in the living room and chat.  Now sometimes I let my mind wander when there are full blown Indonesian conversations going on around me but I guess I am getting a little better at the language and could not help but pick up that Bapak (Sumi’s father) and Sumi’s niece were talking about the Japanese.  This man is 72 years old (and looks even older) so I was extremely interested to hear what he might be saying about back in the day of colonialism.  Quick history: the Dutch maintained colonial rule over Indonesia until 1942 when the Japanese arrived and “liberated” Indonesia, occupying it until their surrender in 1945 (during which time 4 million Indonesians died from famine and forced labor) and Sukarno’s subsequent declaration of Indonesian independence. 

Well tonight Bapak was telling us about life under the Japanese; he was just 7 years old living on Java at the time, but remembers his family reduced to eatting banana skins, grass, and whole cassava plants because they were always hungry under Japan’s harsh rule.  Forced slave labor was rampant then and according to Bapak’s story, his father ran away from the Japanese three times before they finally captured him and put him to work building roads and bridges.  However, even while working for the Japanese there was not any more food.  Then Sumi’s niece Ocha asked if life was harder under the Dutch or the Japanese and he replied that the Dutch were still worse. 

The conversation kind of died there but I was deeply intrigued by this narrative and insight into a history I studied at college.  It is amazing to be living with someone who has lived through colonialism, a courageous and successful independence movement, decades of authoritarian rule, and now democracy.  I would love to learn more from him but will save it for the next “lampu mati” night.

Native Americans to gain in U.S. health overhaul

I was just really happy to read this article and had to share it: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/02/health/02indian.html?_r=1&hp.  In a way it is related to my NGO's work to bring health care to marginalized populations.