corruption or cultural sensitivity?

Here I am again, looks like I won't be leaving until 4th Dec, which gives me a chance to "latihan" at a music studio with Riz and Asbi before I go, yay!

On the nastier side of things, I am currently having a conflict with my Indonesian family; and I am still feeling really bad.

They wanted to "borrow" money from me to give "uang rokok" (tobacco money) to the police here; the problem is that they had never been able to return the money they borrowed from me throughout the last two months. In other words, I am asked to pay a bribe to the police even though verbally they say "minjam bukan minta." (borrow, not give)

Up until now, I've always forgiven their "loan;" when their teenager got really upset because his parents can't afford the expensive pair of shoes he wanted, I paid for it. When they get sick and they can't afford medications, I gave them mine. When they cannot pay their bill, or for gas, or food, I paid for it.

But this time, I insist they return the money. I feel like I have facilitated corruption by giving them the money. I mean, damn it, I feel angry enough that I have "loaned" them the money. They are really penniless; if I hadn't "loan" them the money, they would not have been ABLE to bribe the police. In short, I had personally allowed it to happen.

So I try to learn to be culturally sensitive, and here is where I draw the line: I know muslims can have 4 wifes and they are allowed to beat their wifes. As long as I don't have to marry one, I can keep my mouth shut, no problem. I know there is corruption in Indonesia, and I will keep my mouth shut as long as you don't ask ME to participate in it.

I read about a lot of the corruption tricks in S.E. Asia long before I arrived Indonesia; I make sure I do everything by the book so that immigration officials and polices will find no excuse to rip me off. No, seriously, you don't understand, I hate corruption like water hates oil. I will go an extra mile to make sure I don't get into a situation where I need to bribe my way out.

Pak Dedy made me sit down on a bench (which I find it somewhat patronizing) and gave me a lesson about "uang rokok." Damn it, I know the word "uang" and I know the word "rokok;" I don't need him to give me a lesson like I am some naive, uninnitiated child. He kept saying it's not corruption, and that corruption is when someone high up in the government gets several juta (millions?) under the table, like Suharto's little brother (?? He says adik suharto). So I shouted "bullshit" at him (in English, I don't know how to be angry in Bahasa Indonesian yet.) I told him corruption is corruption, regardless of how much or how little money is involved. He wouldn't pay them if they weren't police, and that's what makes it so wrong. People hired by the government to help the people are instead ripping people off on a regular basis, and you want to participate, and defend it by telling me it's not really corruption???? KISS MY ASS, but you are wrong. And YOU KNOW YOU ARE WRONG. Otherwise, why would you roll up MY money into a ball and hand it over by pretending to shake hands with the officer?? If it was the proper thing to do in Indonesia, why do you have to do it in secrecy???

Dedy gets angry at his friends when they don't fast during Ramahdan, or if they don't go pray in the mosque on Fridays; he thinks people are bad if they "gije gije" before they are married. Sure, these are all "sins" according to hukum muslim, but so is corruption, why isn't he angry at himself??

Pak Dedy even came to my school to get the English teacher to explain to me that "INI Indonesia" (THIS is Indonesia) and it's "memang bukan corrupsi," (clearly not corruption) and that I shouldn't be angry because this is Indonesia and not Canada, and everybody HAS TO do it. Ibu Yuni also makes sure I know that the polices won't come looking for money from our family if I wasn't living with them; they came harrassing us only because they think I am a rich tourist.

My Indonesian family had a hard time coming up with enough money to repay the loan, and they make sure I know what difficulties they are having because I won't forgive their loan this time. They told me maybe they will have to pawn their motorcycle, or maybe their kids have to stop going to school. Everyone in the house is pulling a long face right now and nobody wants to look at me. (except for the little ones; who still shout my name in excitements everytime they see me, and run up to me to give me a koala-bear hug. Bless them, I never thought I deserved so much love.) When Ibu Yuli counts all her coins and seribu notes to give to me, I feel like I am some awful rich bully ripping food from the very poor. But then right at the beginning, I already made it very clear that "saya tidak suka corrupsi, saya tidak akan kasih uang. Kalau kamu mau kasih, kamu baya." [I don't like corruption and I am not going to pay. If you want to give him bribes, you pay for it.] Sure, I don't want everybody to go crazy because of (to me) a small sum of money, but you know what? I don't care if they have to sell all their children to child prostitutions to pay me back, I think corruption is wrong and they shouldn't docilely encourage it, and I told them as much. If they don't like it, they can pay for it by their own resources.

.
.
.

In more civilized language: I am still angry, mostly at myself for letting the transaction happen, but I am also puzzled that my family should be angry with me. "Home" is so depressing right now, I ended up hanging out in Asbi's house until late into the night, even though "no proper woman should be bold enough to visit a boy after dark."

I agreed to go to the market later today with Ibu Yuni, she keeps telling me she has no money for food, so I finally agreed to go to the market with her and pay for the groceries. In a way, I guess I am giving them the money back under the table. This is so weird, I am going through so much troubles just so I can tell myself "I didn't participate in corruption." It would have been so much easier if I just give them their money back; Ibu can then stop telling me how they have no money for everything, and everybody can smile and talk to me again. But, tempting as it is, I just can't do it.




As with my "muslim-village-boy" ... I don't know how that happened, this otherwise very shy and polite muslim-guru is now bold enough to fight with me in broad day light in front of people, or read porns with me, (he claims he is just admiring what beautiful things God can create!!) or go out playing on the street with me late into the night, or throw playful insults at me. One night, he told me, "saya mau jadi jahat sama Cordelia." (I am about to become a bad person like Cordelia) For some reasons I find that extremely flattering :) As usual, he likes to blurt out confessions about his interactions with his girlfriend, under the disguise of "learning English." So in response, I gave him very specific instructions about how to kiss a girl and make it romantic... and throughoutly enjoyed watching him squirm. Nothing good ever lasts in my hands. My "laki baik baik" (good boy) is now "rotten to the core" :)

First things first, it looks like I will be heading to Papua on the 2nd of December. For all I know, this could be the last time I blog. I may or may not be able to get Internet access once I get there.

The four walls...

I like to think of myself as the prime example of why there is everything wrong with the way education is nowadays; but then you all probably think I am just being obnoxious.

When I arrived Canada at 16, I was accidentally put in the regular grade 11 program, instead of the ESL 11 program. So instead of sitting in a language classroom learning the nuts and bolts of English, I braved through Lord_of_the_Flies with Canadian kids (and grew up to read Foucault... I am permanently brain damaged) and picked up English language in a flash.

Then here I am in Indonesia, instead of taking language lesson inside the four walls of a University classroom, I just hang out with the people here, and again, I learnt the language that much faster. If I were to follow the "intensive" BI program at the University, I will be at level two by now; but I can say with confidence that I have mastered up to level 3 materials on my own by just living a life here, OUTSIDE of the classroom. [well, okay, I lied. I got a lot of helps with Micaela back when I was in Canada too...) My conclusion is, education only serves to IMPOSE a limit on human potential. It puts people in their place and tell them where they belong in a hierarchical society...

But, so much for that, I have narrowly escaped the horrible fate of studying in a University again and instead, I now teach inside four walls in a SMP. I also attend English class at a college with some friends close to my age.

The lecturer at the college and students welcomed me warmly... maybe too warmly! A keen student asked to shake my hand and wouldn't let go for the next 2 minutes... she also followed me all the way to my bike after class and she seems quite reluctant to let me go. The lecturer speaks enough English that I can speak to him in normal speed, which is a nice chance for me to spill my heart out. (it's a bit difficult to do in Indonesian...) Most students in class cannot understand the readings so the lecturer has to translate and explain the text in Indonesian sentence-by-sentence, which is a nice chance for me to pick up some new vocabularies and also translation skills.

Teaching at SMP (middle school) is interesting, there are more boys than girls in the classes but 90% of the time, the girls are the ones to answer the questions I ask. The vice principal sits at the back of the class and the class stays in some sort of order. As soon as he walks out, the boys get really rowdy. He also has a 5 year old son who stays in the class with me, he likes to disturb the class and pull childish stunts, like climbing a table to pop a plastic bag in my face in front of the class, or throw toys in my face, or tickle me, or shout into my ears... No problem, I was shaken but not stirred. I mean, I only threw balls at my teacher in elementary school and swapped oil-pastel with chalk so that the teacher freaked out when she realize she can't erase the board when I was in middle school... (here is a living proof that karma is true, what comes around must goes around, no matter how you try to avoid it...)

When I ask the student to read the text one by one, some kids are shy and won't speak up loud enough for the class to hear, to my horror, the vice principal walks up and whack them really hard with a huge duster. Another time, I walked across the playground on campus and the boys at Phys Ed class called out to me, the PE teacher walks up to them with a huge stick and threatens to beat them, I was really freaked out... at the end, I don't know if he actually hits them, I didn't want to look.

So after class one day, I pulled the vice principal aside and told him to stop hitting MY students, though he told me sometimes that's the only way to get student to cooperate. Actually, before I even start teaching, he told me that students at this school are "all stupid. Only students from very poor family with very poor ability come to this school." What kind of educator is this??? I was exasperated. His son is a constant headache and trouble in my class and that's not a problem to him, but the shy students apparently deserve a harsh beating. So, in response, the next day, I spanked his son in front of the whole class. Justice has been served, all is good. :)

In general, I have more problems with the teachers and the vice principal's son than the students. Teenagers in this country seem curious, friendly, talkative and not at all shy. most of the time, I quite enjoy them.

Muslim-Fundamentalists, culture of shame, and "silence"??

"They" say, Indonesian has a "culture of shame and silence" regarding sex. Either "they" don't know what they are talking about, or I am some sort of magnet for breaking cultural taboos.



I have been touched and grabbed and kissed inappropriately so many times already by guys I hardly know, I am starting to seriously doubt this idea of muslim people having any respect for women. True, many of them are people working in the tourist industry, but many enough Indonesian work in the tourist industry that you really cannot exclude them as "out-liar" or "abnormal."

Many of my friends here also told me people in the city have very different attitude from people in the village. Conveniently, I have friends from the city AND from the village. My city friends think people in the village are too "muslim fanatic;" whereas my friends in the village keep telling me that people in the city are "nakal" (naughty/ devious). For example, one of my friends works in the tourist industry, he has the typical perception of foreigners as amoral people and sexual maniac. He calls my village friends "muslim fanatics," but honestly, I still enjoy them immensely. Ibu Yuli, on the other hand, told me she has never "gije-gije" (sp? apparently it's just a local slang, it's not in any dictionary). before she got married, but a lot of girls in the city has already done it. Asbi also told me that girls in the city are "sudah biasa" (used to it?) about kissing, even though it's a big no-no in the village.

So I live in the village... I have been hanging out with my neighbour's family a lot, we jus sit at the bruga and play guitar/ chat/ study together. Unfortunatelly for me, they are very religious people, and some of their friends are hardcore Muslim evangelists, so on many occasion, I have already been assured that I (and all my "Christian friends" ... I told them I am Christian) will definitely be going to hell unless we follow Muslim. I was told, "there is everything in heaven, beautiful girls, no need for money, enough for everybody, if you like pigs, you can eat pigs in heaven, if you like cats, there are cats in heaven. So it's up to you, if you want to go to heaven, follow my family. If you want to go to hell, silakan! There is nothing but siksa [corporal punishments] in naraka [hell]... I tried really hard not to laugh, because that's what some of my Christian "friends" told me too XD

I have already told you a bit about my neighbour's youngest son Asbi, the koran-guru who travels through the village on foot to teach children to read the koran. That's how I became friend with his family, Asbi teaches the kids in my family Bahasa Arab as well, and after the lesson, we often play guitar together, I now also go to English class in a college with him.

One day, I have been playing guitar with Asbi at his house when it starts raining dogs and cats, and the power went out. Asbi told me he has been having stomach-ache for a few days, and as usual, I offered to (play doctor and) give him some medications. It was actually the second time I offered to medicate him; a few days ago, when he was so sick he couldn't pay attention in class, he declinded the medication, no double out of shyness. I guess, this time his stomach hurts badly enough that he wants to try some pills, so I was about to brave the rain to get the medication when he told me to wait for the rain to stop.

But the rain didn't slow down until it was late and dark... It was still raining, but this time, he insists I go home. He wanted to give me a ride, but I wouldn't let him, I mean, he is sick! He asks me when will I come to his house again, I said in a few minutes, because I still have to bring him medication. He told me he is not sick anymore, which is obviously a lie. I told him I will come back, so just wait. He shoulted "tidak usah" (don't bother) after me, but I just waved it off. I mean, it's not really a big deal, I am a big girl and I can take care of myself, right?

Apparently not, I came back soaking wet from the rain, with the medication, and he got really mad at me. "Why did you come back? I told you not to!" I gave him the medication, but he wouldn't take it at first, "I said not to come back, it's already night time!" (it was only 7:30pm) I just couldn't believe it. I was concerned about his condition and he got angry at me for walking to his house at night to deliver the medication. At last, he took the medications. His friend wants me to stay to chat, though Asbi is obviously not happy about it. At last, I went home, feeling a bit puzzled and insulted.

A few days later, he brings it up again, "don't come here at night, my dad gets mad if it's already dark." So I asked him, "it's okay for you to play at my home late at night but it's not okay for me to go to your place at 7?" and he told me, "girls are not allowed, maybe other villagers will see us." I said, "it was dark and there was nobody on the street," and he actually said to me, "maybe they have telescope." Since he was so serious, I tried really hard not to laugh, but I failed. So that's what it comes down to, an intense fear of being seen. The funny thing is, he is not afraid to "silat"(local martial arts) me really hard when nobody is around, but when someone, ANYONE is watching, he will squeal and tells me he dares not fight with me. (But if I "aikido" him, it's okay if there is an audience... I just don't get it.)

So he sounds really shy, right? The thing is, he is not that shy about sexual discourses. I now teach Asbi English and in exchange, he teaches me to read Bahasa Arab. One day, out of the blue, Asbi says to me in English, "I don't know why my heart dropped when my girlfriend held my hand," that sounds conservative and innocent enough, but just the fact that he confesses his interactions with his girlfriend to me seems to contradict the notion of "silence" and "shyness." We then go on to talk about our sexual experiences, and even though he accuses me of "berdosa" [sinning] and that I am going to get a lot of "siksa" [coporal punishments] after I die, and he keep saying "saya tidak berani," [I dare not], he doesn't seem shy about talking at all.

On another occasion, Asbi covers his face and squealed "tidak mau~ tidak mau~" when I encouraged/ instructed him to kiss his girlfriend... but he also regularly brings up the topic of kissing. When I teased him that "mungkin kamu sendiri belum pernah cium dalam kampung-ini," [maybe you are the only one in the whole village who hasn't kissed yet] he comes back by telling me that his friends also talk to him about kissing all the time and none of them has kissed a girl yet. Again, that sounds innocent, but the fact remains that he and his friends are not that silent about sexuality.

Another time, Asbi walks up to me with a huge dictionary, after looking up a word, he asks me with a straight face, "don't you have lust?" My jaw dropped, but I thought, "I bet he just mispronounced a word," so I said, "what? say it again," And sure enough, he says "lust, don't you have lust?" I looked at him with a look that says "did I hear what you just said?" and grabbed his dictionary, he pointed down at the English word "lust," and I started laughing, no doubt out of embarrassment... we then go on to talk about contraception, abortion, children, and having cats instead of kids etc. But, honestly, how many of you in Canada will ask your friends whether they have lust??

A couple of days ago, before he kindly inquired about my lust, I was teaching him English. Apparently, he has been pulling words out of a dictionary randomly and trying to memorize them. There are many mistakes, many are very funny, (for examble, he thinks "to breed" children means to raise them from little till they are mature; and...) one of the words on his list was "blow." Since I already corrected a lot of the words on his list, I choked down my giggle and asked him, "what do you mean blow? blow what?" (!!!) and he says, "blow, a jab." What you need to understand is, Indonesian always pronounce "A" like "a" in "artist," so when he says, "blow, like a jab," he sounded more like "blow a job." I laughed until I was sick... even *I* was too shy to explain to him what a "blow job" is. (oh! The joy of teaching some innocent muslim boys English......)


Then there is Asbi's brother Ager; he is 26 years old, he is more bold and he is not afraid to have physical contacts with me in front of people (like a playful slap on my arm when we are joking around.) He is also not afraid to take me out for rides late at night. Like Asbi, Ager is not shy to talk about sexual matters. For example, not many boys in Canada have the gut to (bother to?) ask me if I am a virgin... but after knowing me for a week, Ager asked whether I am a virgin, and a lot more questions that I am too shy to confess to you here(!)

On another occasion, when I was surrounded by students at the SMP, one of the girls askes me "sudah kawin?" Innocently, I answered "belum kawin," she and her friends start giggling madly. Unfortunatelly for me, Micaela has already explained to me the multiple meanings of kawin,it could either mean "married" or "have sex," so apparently, I told a bunch of kids that I haven't had sex yet. (at least from the way they giggled, that's how they interpreted it.) Again, I was surprised by the boldness of Indonesian children.


So now, I am pretty confused about the notion of Indonesian "shyness" regarding sexuality. I will readily agree that they consider sexual contact shameful before marriage, but they are definitely not that silent about it!

school teacher, muslim boy, etc...

Pardon me for not writing more often, Ramadhan is now over and so is Idul Fitri, which means the city is alive and back to normal, and I am picking up my pace again.

The happy thing to share is that I can now speak Indonesian fairly well, definitely not fluent, but good enough to communicate. The sad side is that I lose my Japanese... last night, a friend of Ma came over, he is an amazing muscian who can play everything and play them well (guitar, drum, piano, flute...), and when I told him I studied Japanese in Canada, he started speaking to me in Japanese, so I started to respond in Japanese... and suddenly realize I am speaking in Indonesian. So I tried a bit harder, and still, only Indonesian comes out. I think, Japanese language is lost to me forever.

Life is interesting enough that Internet is quickly losing its appeal... my muscian friends whom I frequently play with will be performing in a music fastival during New Years, too bad I will be in Irian Jaya by then. I decided I am too sick of being a University student so I gave up my plan to study in Un'ram, and instead... I will be teaching English to a bunch of 13 years old in a public junior high school >_< What's wrong with that? Here is what...
1) I am kiddophobic, these kids are only 13...
2) I am a night owl, I start teaching at 8:00am...
3) I am phobic of public speech, I am speaking in front of 45 kids...
4) These people are rigorously... ridiculously religious, and I am supposed to "dress conservatively" (i.e. cover my hair), I will probably melt from the heat. But that's not all, I am supposed to keep the class in order... I mean, those who lived with me or had the misfortune to read my papers probably know I am a post-anarchist who is half heartedly against maintaining authorities and order and all that crap.

So I will find out how that works out tomorrow, I start at 8, I hope I can even get up that early.



In the mean time, I am back to the same-old me. I had my first debate regarding the existence of God with a Koran guru yesterday.

Speaking of this Koran Guru ... there is so much I want to tell you all, but where to start?

I don't think I have ever met a boy as shy as him. He is 24, his parents are farmers and his family is extremely poor. Their house looks like a tornado torn through it years ago and it has not been repaired yet. A wall has collasped and you can see the interior of the house... no, seriously, they are that poor.

But, instead of turning deceitful and shrew to earn some quick money, like so many Indonesian in the tourist industry are... he just travels around the village on foot, to teach little children to read the koran (in bahasa arab)... for free. I met him as "guru Ryan"... nobody knows his name, I only know he teaches Ryan (the teenage boy in *my* family) the koran and to play the guitar; I also know he walks a long way everyday to teach the other kids in the village.

He is small, humble, polite... not as a supervisual social gesture, but out of a sincere, honest respect for muslim etiquette. We hang out a lot, but he always makes sure he takes me home before 6, regardless of how much I protest and insist that I am old enough to stay out late if I want to. For some reasons he thinks my family will be mad at him if I come home any later, or if he keeps hanging out with me, just because he is a guy and I a girl. Dear god, did I time travelled? I didn't know guys like that exist anymore.

His fear for God is almost funny. To be precise, it would have been funny if it wasn't so sincere, and if he wasn't so serious. When he told me he is afraid to watch magic shows and that he is certain those are works of the devils, I laughed in his face... hey, before you start berating me, I feel awful enough about it, I wasn't trying to belittle him or his beliefs, it's just too incredible that someone actually fears god to that extend.

He also made the mistake of confessing his love-life to me. Hey, I didn't even ask, he just volunteered the information. He has a girlfriend, it's his first girlfriend, she has two boyfriends, which is okay with him... my first reaction was, my god, polyamoury in Lombok! But it turns out to be a bit more innocent than that... since he is a muslim guru, and he fears god and all that, he is afraid to even touch his girlfriend, much less kiss or have sex, until they get married. So I am not sure exactly what he means when he says they are dating, but apparently it's A-okay to have many boyfriends/ girlfriends as long as you are not married...

I am now regarding him with some sort of ... exotic interest. I know; I used to get really angry in Canada, when guys I just met approach me and tell me how they have always loved asian women. The whole process of exoticization is just so racist, disrespectful, condescending, and patronizing. But here I am, at the other end now, exoticising this god-fearing boy. I can't help it, I find him so incredibly interesting...


That's my obssession for now. Life is good, I am healthy (but the kids are not... Raisa has been having recurring fevers and it smells like malaria to me... but that's a story for another time)

I hope you all are well in Canada/ HK.

-C

Back to Changi Airport I go. I am just glad that I amd heading East to the Airport, and not the Changi prison.

I might as well accept that I am a bookworm. I felt so "at home" at Singapore that I just really didn't feel like going to all the tourisy areas (but then of course, I never liked tourisy areas to begin with. What's with people wanting to see the museam when the real country and real people are right in front of you?
)... so instead, I spend 2 out of 4 of my days in Singapore sitting in the intimidatingly huge Kinokuniya, the biggest bookstore in Asia.

I also got several chores done, like getting my vaccines boosters, picking up some more medications, (I am sooo docile...) and so on.

Even though I stayed in the same hostel for all four days, I had to change room twice (because of the lack of beds in the female dom, they actually put me in the boys room for two days.) I met a lot of people with very diverse opinions about people from HK, none of which is too flattering.

[later, have to board the plane now]

I am currently staying at this youth hostel in Singapore China Town. If heaven exists, I think I am coming pretty close to it.

I spend today lazily, I send in my application for Indonesian Social Visa and I restocked my medication (I have been playing doctor with the family I lived with for a while and I am out of many medications...) I then walked around China Town.

Last night, I checked out the cheapest youth hostel I found on the Internet; it's in Marsiling (sp?) and the first thing I got there, they asked me how many hours... I could be wrong but I think I might have walked into the seediest area in the country. I ran for the exit and never turned back. I sat at the park for a while, reading my freshly purchased Singaporian map, watching the children at play, and the old man chatting. I had walked a very long distance with my huge backpack (I upgraded my day-pack into a 60L backpack) and I was getting really tired. So I decided to ask for helps to find a phone to call the other hostels. I talked to the 3 older men sitting at the benches in the park, they looked at me with a difficult expression and finally, one of them spoke to me in Mandarine. So I tried to ask him again in Mandarine, and suddenly find it very difficult. I think the process in my head went like this: "speak, but not in English... [tries to speak... uttered something in Indonesian]... no, not that other language, but *the* other one..." eventually, I had to ask myself what a Chinese sentence structure is like, because my brain is all cross wired now and I am really confused >_< But, at last, I managed to ask them where is the phone and they pointed back to the MRT station. I called a few places and finally, I decided I would just go back to the airport and sleep there.

But then on the train, two foreigners came in and sat next to me. I got over my "shyness" (ahem) and started talking to them. I asked them if they could recommand any youth hostel, they said travellers reststop is really good, but there might not be any beds left. I decided to give it a try anyways... and find myself suddenly feel like I am back to Canada again.

But, about the train ride... I took a very long ride throughout the city and spend a bit of time watcing the people, and I decided I really like Singapore: it has a huge blend of people of different ethnicity, each preserving their own language, attire, and even traditions such as religious practices. Here in Singapore, I can also see a lot of large families dressed in traditional clothing; I assume they are visiting relatives to celebrate lebaran. On the train, I heard a lot of English, Cantonese, Mandarine, and Bahasa Indonesia/Malayu (not sure which one), and some other languages that I can't make out. It's so multicultural it's really truly amazing. Even the archetectures are like that: the Expo district looks a lot like Burnaby Vancouver with a few huge buildings of Foreign companies and a lot of trees, then the next stop looks a bit like Discovery Bay of Hong Kong, where it's a semi-dense residencial area with lots of entertainment facilities such as swimming pools and track and fields and clubhouse etc, then I went through districts with schools that looked just like schools in Hong Kong, and districts like the city centre of HK where there is a very interesting blend of extremely old and run-down building and new, fancy, "cool," metallic looking buildings. Then there are huge malls with colorful neon lights; MacDonalds, police...

I cannot help but to notice how much "instructions" they give you in the MRT train. I guess Singapore government really likes to tell people what to do... and the people here don't seem to mind it. Apparently, Singapore on average execute one prisoner every 9 days... So much for my hellish paper on "sovereign feudalistic government vs a modern state with humanitarian police force and prison system," here is the living disprove of my essay, with a very modern state, with an extremely sovereign government, with people living with relative satisfactory with the government, and not much complains about human rights violation. Maybe that's why our department don't have Singaporian studies, it's just too damn confusing.

Singapore is known to be *the* "fine" city... you can be fined $150 for jay walking; fined and put to work at hard labour for littering or even chewing gum, and so on. What happens if you don't have enough money to pay the fine? Do they cane you? Or would they actually hang you for that? I don't know, and I don't really want to find out, so I obediently waited at the red light and watch all the Singaporians running across the road when no car is nearby. I continued to wait dutifully, and I wait, and I wait, and I wait. I got bored and turned around and saw the ice-cream vendor on the street was looking and laughing to (at?) me ... Then I look around, and I can't help but to notice there is quite a bit of garbage on the ground, perhaps not as much as in Indonesia but definitely noticebly more than in Canada AND in Hong Kong. So I waited no longer, and crossed the road.

I am not sure what "tourist attraction" to go to; I feel a little too lazy to go to the theme park, or the zoo, or the museum... the fact is, I feel like I am *home*. Like I am suddenly not living with a lot of peasants and being targeted by hawkers, like I can freely take the MRT to where I want, talk to people in my language, and just relax, and to me, that's good enough. In fact, it's even better that I can talk to all the other travellers at the youth hostel, it brings back memory of 1997, when I half hitch-hiked, half-bused across Canada from Toronto back to Kelowna and met many interesting travellers at the youth hostels. I might be over spending by flying to Singapore; but it's probably worth it. As much as I appreciate a bit of "cultural shock" and new perspectives and new lifestyle... I think I really needed this "rest stop."

-C

God bless Internet... I have arrived Singapore for an hour now and I am still in the airport... because you can play internet here! I can't tell you how much I miss having Internet.

Of course there is internet in Indonesia... it's just... irritatingly, infuriatingly slow.

I happen to run into the strangest things and people in here, so here comes my stories.

Money trouble, crying kids, aloof hubby...

The second child of the daughter had came home for lebaran. Rylin is 12 years old, and she stays at Lombok Timur (East lombok) with her grandparents because the family here cannot afford to raise all their children.

One night, we were all eating together at the porch. They were speaking at a neck-breaking speed and I was generally not following the conversation. I didn't even notice the raised level of stress in their speech until after the fact.

Then suddenly, Ibu yuni punches Rylin really hard in her leg, and she starts crying. I am quite accustomed to children crying now... but 12 year old is not exactly a child (by my standard anyways, she is quite mature afterall.) and right away, everybody stops eating. Ibu Yuni made another speech which I did not understand, but I did hear the word "uang" (money) about 10 times in that little speech. She then left the porch and went inside the kitchen... crying. Rylin rubbed her leg and says "sukit" (it hurts..) and went into the room and locked the door.

Dedy told me to eat, and that this is "biasa, tidak apa2." (normal, and not a problem.) I had a hard time believing in him, especially when two of the family members have stopped eating and Raihan and Raisa (lil ones) have suddenly became quiet.

A few days later; Ibu Yuni told me, she was mad at her husband. Rylin was complaining that the phone doesn't work and Ibu hits her limit ... apparently, she gave Dedy 70000rp and ask him to pay the phone bill ... twice, and he still haven't pay the bill. Now, at lebaran, they cannot call to talk to relatives that are far away. (Phone companies are all closed for lebaran and you can't pay until lebaran is over.) She started crying and says she can't understand her husband anymore and she now has nothing but headache. She told me, if I hadn't pay them for food and fuels etc in advance, they would not be able to bake jajan (sweets) which is customarily served to all guests visiting at lebaran.

Red blood, White bones...

The night before lebaran eve, I chatted with a policeman for hours. Actually, make it "all night," literally.

We chatted a lot about martial arts, injuries from martial arts (... =_=), the separation of police from the military etc. Then we played guitar for a long time, mostly we played Radja's songs, because that's all that I can play and/or sing. We did that for hours, until we got more or less bored from it, but we still want to play, so he starts teaching me to play "Indonesiaku."

I think, it's some sort of national anthem. It just feels really trippy to have a Indonesian policeman teaching me to play the national song of Indonesia...


BACK OFF! BACK OFF! I SAID, BACK_OFF... and my Little Bodyguards

The next night, I went to KKT again to have dinner with Dedy's huge extended family. These people are rich enough that they ate at a table. To be honest, I miss eating at a table. I am a chopsticks-junkie and they only give me forks. When I sit at the floor, the distance between the plate and my mouth is so great that half of the food usually already falls off the fork by the time it reaches me. Table is the way to go.

After dinner, I stayed to chat to the women at the table about the children. Children seems to be a frequent topic of interest here. After some times, Dedy runs to get me to tell me to come "watch" (nonton [sp?], not lihat [look]) something. He saids something about "banyak orang miskin" (lots of poor people.) For some reasons, I was expecting fireworks; but to my surprise, he was actually telling me to come watch the poor people surrounding the family compound.

Next day is going to be lebaran, so that night was like lebaran eve... and at lebaran eve, rich people are supposed to give money to the poor. Dedy's father already drew 10 juta (10 000 000rp) from the bank just for this occasion. It has became clear that I was bought here to watch the poor to beg for money.

I really didn't have the stomache for it... thankfully, Danny came to my rescue. A friend of his can speak English and apparently, he really wants to meet me. So I went over to Deny's house and we chatted. His friend is young, cute and generally nice... until he called me a "gutu buku" (book worm). I quickly replied that I am a karate girl and that negates any possibilities of me being a book worm. He winced and said to me, "oh don't, I like girls that are romantic. Don't do karate." HMPF, as if I need him to like me??

After talking to this dude, I went to Mataram with Danny's family and the kids to watch the parade. Read this, seriously, I am not kidding: 5 adults (me included), 1 teenager and 10 kids (ten!) all squeezed into a jeep. Did I say I am kiddophobic? I thought I would die in there.

Finally, we made it to Mataram City; we watched the parade, the street was crowded but that's no problem... until we decided to leave.

The adults already went back into the car, I took the last shot of photo and walk towards the car slowly. The kids are still slowly filing back into the car and there is no reason for me to hurry.

Then a man approached me. At first, I didn't understand what he was saying to me; but I did understand his body gesture was aggressive... body and head leaning forward, hands reaching out... we were at speaking distance but he continues to close the distance, at that point, I realize he is asking where I am from, but [talking to an aggressor only serve to increase his knowledge of me and i.e. his chance of successfully commiting aggression upon me and] I decided it was not a good idea to answer him. I raised my hands in front of me with the palms facing him, the classical "hey, back off, just leave me alone" gesture; I was at a fight or flight mode. I started walking backward, but he kept pushing forward, then he suddenly grabbed my right breast...

I was furious, the first thought in my head was, "HOW DARE YOU?" Since my hands were already at the passive-defensive position, I slapped his arm away in an instance. He reaches for my breast again and I slapped him away before he touches me this time and stepped to the side. Usually, at least at training, I would kick the guy down south. But I suddenly realized the sarang wraps are good for many things but not for riding bikes or for throwing kicks. So instead, I quickly pointed a finger right at his eye to stop him from walking any closer, and shouted very loudly. "BACK OFF, BACK OFF, I said BACK OFF." He still tried to walk towards me, but I absolutely refuse to move. No man on Earth is allowed to make me take more than three steps back, I don't care if he is Gorge little Bush, three steps is my hard limit.

So I was ready to fight him. Adrenaline prevails at that point, so my memory could be wrong, but I think I took a classic karate fighting stance when...

Danny and friends realize there is troubles. The men and Ryan (teenage boy) held the man back and the women hushed me back into the car... while all the children poured out of the car to put a distance between the drunk man and me. As I was walking back into the car, I looked back and notice the man's posture was no longer aggressive like before. I can't believe Danny actually told him about me: she is from Hong kong, her families are far away, blah blah blah.

What did the family think of me? I don't know. Danny told me the guy drank too much and the women said and one of the kids says he is "orang-jelek." Was I wrong to try to fight back? Are women not supposed to fight back in this country? I am still mad that the a-hole got away with grabbing me. I guess it's good that I didn't get into a fight afterall; but that dude should not get away with what he did either. Later, I asked a police about situations like that, and apparently it is alright for me to punch the guy, and that the law is on my side. What I didn't ask him was whether it was okay to kick his nuts up his brain...

Back inside the car, the kids were excited, I was in a trance with adrenaline runing wild in my blood. I suddenly realize the kids had been calling my name, apparently, they want to know if I am a ninja, have I met bruce lee, and do I know karate. One of the girl then insists to climb over here to sit besides me. Loud and silly and excitable as these little kids were, at that point, I actually felt like I could possibly maybe nearly occasionally like them.




Family visits

Then came lebaran. As always, they broadcasts the Koran loudly from 3 am - 4am and I can't get much sleep at night. Except unlike always, I didn't get to sleep in. I was woke up at 6:00am to "ikut" (follow?).

We went to KKT, the village of Dedy's family "clan," or so I call it a clan. The family is so huge they could fill up three or four family compounds. I guess lebaran is like Chinese NY in Hong Kong or Thanks-Givings in Canada, where family all over the globe flies home to feast together. This is a great chance to meet people from Jawa, Ache, Surabaya and even sulawesi. Nobody from the Pupua though.

So we got there; 5 minutes later, everybody leaves for the mosque. That is, everybody except Ibu yuni, the very tiny babies, and I. Even little Raisa puts on the full muslim worshipping gowns from head to toe to worship.

I was a bit angry that Ibu yuli has to stay behind. I am not sure if she volunteered it or was it just expected of her. I know her family is the poorest in the whole clan ... I also know that Ibu yuli had to suffer most of the unpleasant chores while everyone else play. Apparently, she woke even earlier than everyone else to bake "jajan" (sp? cookies and sweets) and then prayed all by herself. When everyone goes to the mosque that morning, she stays behind to set up the tables and also finish food preparations.

I "had to" help too. She asked me to help in the kitchen and I felt too bad for her to say no. Note that I otherwise like kitchen works, but at that moment, the kitchen STINKS. Apparently they slaughtered a lot of chickens that morning. Anyone with the experience of dressing an animal will know that distinct aroma of blood and half-digested crap. Between sleep-deprivation, the sounds of screaming babies/kittens and the smell, I cooked...

Speaking of the kitten, one of the two kittens we adopted got transfered to this clan. She was screaming because she was stranded on the roof ... Ibu put her up there because the cat won't leave the food alone... I kept trying to rescue the cat but I am just not that tall... so at the end, I have to wait for Ibu yuni to get the ladder to get her down again.

So we ate; food was great. In fact, the food was so rich there is meat left over. I have never seen this happening in Indonesia.

We then go to Lombok-Timur to visit Ibu Yuni's family. I can't help but to notice that all the good rambutan goes to Dedy's family, while all the moldy ones go to Yuni's.

Her family isn't exactly rich like Dedy's, but they do well enough. Her father is a professor at the University and he speaks some English; he also knows Prof Priyono, the man who runs the BI program at Un'trm. they even have three computers...

But LT is hot... even more so than Mataram. The people were nice and hospitable but the heat was still unbearable. Between wiping my sweat and fanning myself with the kammus and sucking on a big block of ice, I tried to have conversations with Yuni's family. It was difficult. (my tongue was numb...)

Then they try to feed me again. They start a big feast too... I tried to tell them I already ate at KKT3 but they absolutely insists that I eat. In fact, they insist I am the first to take food from the table and explain every food item to me. (yes, there was a table... except everybody takes the food onto the plate and then eats on the floor.) These people are so friendly, it's like utopia.

Finally, it was time to go. Little Raisa sat in front and little Raihan sat at the back. The speakers for the radio is on my right... and the car trip back was a torture. It was 50 minutes of two kids screaming and crying in front and behind me, and a speaker playing punk-rocks so hard my leg tinkles. Why didn't I bring ear plugs??

We got back. Never mind that I was covered in sweat; never mind that I was all sticky and I haven't showered yet, there is a lebaran special on Radja on TV that night and I just have to watch it. I can't believe TV has became my no. 1 priority (that night anyways). Fortunatelly for me, the show was really disappointing. The boys dressed really ridiculously (I think they are trying to look like punks) and the music equipment was poor; you can only hear the vocal occasionally. And the vocalist didn't perform so well when he is dancing and singing and jumping around with a cape at the same time...




so that's my excitement for now. I still want to write about Raisa and Ogi sometimes... but now is not the time. I need to get the hell out of this airport and experience Singapura. Have a good time in HK/ Canada, my friends!

-C