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