I’ve been giving English lessons to some of the kids in my village who want to learn the language. Most of these kids are a lot younger than my high school students and they’re all at different levels, so we decided to start from the very basics and continue on from there, spending more or less time based on what they know and don’t know. Well for one of the first lessons, I wanted to go over colors with the kids. Not having a set of crayons, and wanting some (not solely for the purpose of instruction), I went to the store to find a set.
As I looked through the “crayons section” and looked at the color sets, I realized that there was something missing…the color purple. I checked almost all of the sets under 20 colors and none of them had the color purple! It was really strange. I know it’s not a primary color, but it always seemed like a pretty crucial color to me. By gosh, it’s a secondary color! If you don’t trust my judgment about its importance, ask my sister Sherlyn. She probably has a million crayons and markers and color pencils…she basically majored in colors (just kidding, she’s an interior designer…but she gets the importance of purple) and she can let you know. Also, Oprah produced a movie based on this color, so that in itself should be enough to convince you of the validity of my argument.
Well I finally chose a small set of colors, begrudgingly and mainly because I didn’t have that much time to keep searching around, and I took it home to my kids and taught them colors without the added fun of being able to see “ungu” up close and personal.
Later, I asked my friend why there was no purple in any of the coloring sets, when there were two different greens and two different blues and a “nude” color. She wasn’t quite sure. Later, after considering it a little more she explained that purple is the color for widows, so that could be a possible reason as to why it is left out of children’s color boxes. In this superstitious society, I guess I can buy that reasoning even if I think it’s depriving the children of a beautiful royal hue.
Anyways, my family and I painted our walls purple yesterday (which was chosen because it was the only color left) so it made me think of that little fun fact.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Road Signs of Indonesia
What exactly does this mean?! I’ve asked a few Indonesians, but no one seems to have a definitive answer. That may be because you can get a driver’s license by paying the equivalent of $2 to the local police. Personally, I feel like there’s going to be a bear attack at any point…
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Hari Kemerdekaan Republik Indonesia
Happy Independence Day, Indonesia!
65 years ago Indonesia was proclaimed to be a nation independent of its former colonizing nation, the Netherlands (can you guess who most Indonesians were NOT rooting for in the World Cup?). In celebration, the 10th graders at my school and students from the middle and elementary school plus their teachers all gathered at the district office in our village and had a special flag-raising ceremony. It was pretty neat. A few of the 12th graders from our school were the ones who actually raised the flag and it was interesting seeing them dressed in white and red (the colors of the Indonesian flag) and marching and looking so proper! It was over by 10 a.m. and we had the rest of the day off from school.
This is definitely a big difference from how we celebrate our Independence Day back home...barbecue, picnics, big firework shows, giving fire to little kids. I spent a good part of the morning and the last few days explaining the differences to many different people. It is interesting how for such a big day that is basically the same, it is celebrated so differently. I can't even remember the last time I saw a flag being raised before coming here (by the way, we have a flag ceremony every Monday morning at my school), I think it was in elementary school. I don't think one is better or worse than the other, but it sure did make me miss bbq and sangria...
65 years ago Indonesia was proclaimed to be a nation independent of its former colonizing nation, the Netherlands (can you guess who most Indonesians were NOT rooting for in the World Cup?). In celebration, the 10th graders at my school and students from the middle and elementary school plus their teachers all gathered at the district office in our village and had a special flag-raising ceremony. It was pretty neat. A few of the 12th graders from our school were the ones who actually raised the flag and it was interesting seeing them dressed in white and red (the colors of the Indonesian flag) and marching and looking so proper! It was over by 10 a.m. and we had the rest of the day off from school.
This is definitely a big difference from how we celebrate our Independence Day back home...barbecue, picnics, big firework shows, giving fire to little kids. I spent a good part of the morning and the last few days explaining the differences to many different people. It is interesting how for such a big day that is basically the same, it is celebrated so differently. I can't even remember the last time I saw a flag being raised before coming here (by the way, we have a flag ceremony every Monday morning at my school), I think it was in elementary school. I don't think one is better or worse than the other, but it sure did make me miss bbq and sangria...
I WILL SURVIVE
…and I have survived my first week of fasting!
*Takes a bow*
*Gives “high fives” all around*
Bercanda! (Just kidding!) It really wasn’t so bad. It probably helped that I had last week off so that I could get through the first five days at home and not have to work or really exert myself. But I still like to think my iron will and intense concentration had something to do with it as well. =)
So here’s how it went down. The first day, I got up around 3:30 am, ate a bunch of rice, then went back to bed feeling sick because of eating that much food so early. I woke up again around 6, went about my day and killed time, then around 5:30 pm we were able to break the fast. For dinner the whole family sat down to eat together, for the first time, and the meal was served. At that point food in proportions I had never encountered before for six people were laid out and ready to be devoured. Sugar-loaded drinks were refilled constantly in all of our glasses. Cakes, cupcakes, and all sorts of sweet and savory deep-fried snacks were forced upon me—by the bagful—and I ate it.
As you can probably imagine, I overdid it a little. I felt so sick after eating that much food. I couldn’t sit, I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t sleep—it was too uncomfortable—so I made Bu Sul take a walk with me. We walked around the village, talked to a bunch of neighbors (who offered me more food), met some new people, and I started to feel a little better….but not much.
So I made a decision. This could not continue for 30 days…there is no way I could survive if I had to eat like this every day. The next morning I got up and made scrambled eggs, two, with a side of cherry tomatoes. It was yummy, filling (but not stuffing), and it was a normal sized meal. Just because I am fasting does not mean I need to eat truckloads of food in order to get through it.
I still tend to overdue the evening meals a little… I can’t help it, there’s just so much delicious food and I’m so hungry at that point…but I continue to take long walks.
There was one day that I broke down and had a drink because I had been walking around all day in the scorching heat of being about 7 degrees away from the equator and I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to die and I think God and everyone else will understand… I hope. Other than that, I have been really good about not breaking the fast until sundown!
So that’s the first week… I’ll continue to keep you posted on how it’s going!
*Takes a bow*
*Gives “high fives” all around*
Bercanda! (Just kidding!) It really wasn’t so bad. It probably helped that I had last week off so that I could get through the first five days at home and not have to work or really exert myself. But I still like to think my iron will and intense concentration had something to do with it as well. =)
So here’s how it went down. The first day, I got up around 3:30 am, ate a bunch of rice, then went back to bed feeling sick because of eating that much food so early. I woke up again around 6, went about my day and killed time, then around 5:30 pm we were able to break the fast. For dinner the whole family sat down to eat together, for the first time, and the meal was served. At that point food in proportions I had never encountered before for six people were laid out and ready to be devoured. Sugar-loaded drinks were refilled constantly in all of our glasses. Cakes, cupcakes, and all sorts of sweet and savory deep-fried snacks were forced upon me—by the bagful—and I ate it.
As you can probably imagine, I overdid it a little. I felt so sick after eating that much food. I couldn’t sit, I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t sleep—it was too uncomfortable—so I made Bu Sul take a walk with me. We walked around the village, talked to a bunch of neighbors (who offered me more food), met some new people, and I started to feel a little better….but not much.
So I made a decision. This could not continue for 30 days…there is no way I could survive if I had to eat like this every day. The next morning I got up and made scrambled eggs, two, with a side of cherry tomatoes. It was yummy, filling (but not stuffing), and it was a normal sized meal. Just because I am fasting does not mean I need to eat truckloads of food in order to get through it.
I still tend to overdue the evening meals a little… I can’t help it, there’s just so much delicious food and I’m so hungry at that point…but I continue to take long walks.
There was one day that I broke down and had a drink because I had been walking around all day in the scorching heat of being about 7 degrees away from the equator and I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to die and I think God and everyone else will understand… I hope. Other than that, I have been really good about not breaking the fast until sundown!
So that’s the first week… I’ll continue to keep you posted on how it’s going!
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Ramadhan
According to the Islamic calendar, today marks the first day of Ramadhan, a religious observance in the Islamic faith. This period symbolizes the coming of the first chapter of their religious book, the Qur’an, to Earth and it being given to the prophet Muhammad (pbuh- peace be upon him...its common to say this). During that time, Muhammad was ordered to fast for a month to bring him closer to Allah, so now millions of Muslims all around the world join together and commemorate the sacrifice that Muhammad made.
Already called to prayer five times a day, for this 30-day period during the year, followers of the Islamic faith will fulfill another obligation, of fasting, as well. Starting from the first call to prayer at 4 a.m., until sunset, everyone following “Puasa” (fasting) will refrain from eating, abstain from drinking, avoid doing anything that is useless or wrong (including sexual intercourse, which is forbidden), and avoid hurting people whether in actions or words. It is a time to cleanse the body and the soul. During this time they pray to Allah to thank him for everything they are given, work on improving their personality and behavior, and take the opportunity to empathize with those less fortunate than themselves.
So what does all this mean for me, a perpetually hungry, Christian woman from America?
It means that for the next 30 days, I will be getting up at 3:30 a.m. to eat something before the first call to prayer, will fast all day, and then will break my fast with my host family at sundown. It means that I will be thanking God for all of the opportunities that I have been given. It means that I will be considering everything I have and will be praying for all of the people that go without some or all of those things every day of their lives. It means that I will think about the flaws that I find in my personality and in my behavior and I will try to change them to better myself and society. And it means that even though it has been a very long time since I have fasted, I will be joining my coworkers, my students, my neighbors, the majority of the Indonesian population, and Muslims worldwide, in what I expect to be an intense, but worthwhile endeavor.
Yes, I know you’ve previously heard me complain about being stuffed like a bird on Thanksgiving, but now you will get thirty days of complaints about me being hungry (“lapar”) and tired (“capek”). I’m fickle…what are you gonna do?
Already called to prayer five times a day, for this 30-day period during the year, followers of the Islamic faith will fulfill another obligation, of fasting, as well. Starting from the first call to prayer at 4 a.m., until sunset, everyone following “Puasa” (fasting) will refrain from eating, abstain from drinking, avoid doing anything that is useless or wrong (including sexual intercourse, which is forbidden), and avoid hurting people whether in actions or words. It is a time to cleanse the body and the soul. During this time they pray to Allah to thank him for everything they are given, work on improving their personality and behavior, and take the opportunity to empathize with those less fortunate than themselves.
So what does all this mean for me, a perpetually hungry, Christian woman from America?
It means that for the next 30 days, I will be getting up at 3:30 a.m. to eat something before the first call to prayer, will fast all day, and then will break my fast with my host family at sundown. It means that I will be thanking God for all of the opportunities that I have been given. It means that I will be considering everything I have and will be praying for all of the people that go without some or all of those things every day of their lives. It means that I will think about the flaws that I find in my personality and in my behavior and I will try to change them to better myself and society. And it means that even though it has been a very long time since I have fasted, I will be joining my coworkers, my students, my neighbors, the majority of the Indonesian population, and Muslims worldwide, in what I expect to be an intense, but worthwhile endeavor.
Yes, I know you’ve previously heard me complain about being stuffed like a bird on Thanksgiving, but now you will get thirty days of complaints about me being hungry (“lapar”) and tired (“capek”). I’m fickle…what are you gonna do?
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Washing Dishes
Our house runs on a central water system, which means we have a well at the back of the house from which water is pumped every day. We have no running water, so we have a big bucket of water where we keep any water that will be used for cooking.
When I was lazy at home, it was always possible to just throw the dishes in the dish washer. Here you can leave it for later, allow the ants to attack, maybe the rats, then you get to do it yourself later. Our kitchen sink consists of 2 plastic buckets filled with water. You “rinse” your plate in the first bucket, soap and wash the plate with a sponge, then rinse again in the first bucket, then rinse one last time in the second bucket. All the dishes are washed using the same water. It was a little hard to stomach at first, but I decided to take the words of one of my friends and trust that “the germs will make me healthier”. I’m not a scientist (and neither is she) but it sounds okay to me. If you know better, don’t correct me…ignorance is bliss.
When I was lazy at home, it was always possible to just throw the dishes in the dish washer. Here you can leave it for later, allow the ants to attack, maybe the rats, then you get to do it yourself later. Our kitchen sink consists of 2 plastic buckets filled with water. You “rinse” your plate in the first bucket, soap and wash the plate with a sponge, then rinse again in the first bucket, then rinse one last time in the second bucket. All the dishes are washed using the same water. It was a little hard to stomach at first, but I decided to take the words of one of my friends and trust that “the germs will make me healthier”. I’m not a scientist (and neither is she) but it sounds okay to me. If you know better, don’t correct me…ignorance is bliss.
The Flow of Things
DISCLAIMER: If you are easily disgusted, this blog posting is not for you! In this posting I will be discussing many things related to my bowels and what moves me…. So read with caution!
I will start with the squatty potty. Yes, I have used squatty potties before, especially when I visited India last summer, but I have to admit that this seems like a completely different experience from what I experienced there. First, in my dad’s home in Kerala, we had a regular Western-style toilet, meaning I could sit on it and it flushed, so I was pretty spoiled. Here, even if you have a toilet on which you can sit, it doesn’t flush. You just pour scoopfuls of water into it until whatever you deposited goes down permanently. This really is an art form… there’s a certain motion and a flick of the wrist that ensure proper disposal. In India I usually tried to hold any bodily functions, if possible, until I was able to find an acceptable toilet… but that doesn’t really work here. The potties are almost all squatty potties, especially the ones at the places I frequent most (home, school, friends’ houses, public offices), and the only places you are likely to find sitting toilets are western restaurants (like KFC, McDonald’s, or Pizza Hut) or hotels…none of which I regularly visit.
Second, we had toilet paper. They do not use TP here. They do not have the plumbing capabilities to facilitate the disposal of the TP, so instead they have big tubs of water and a bucket that you can use to pour water to clean yourself. That is not so easy to do, especially when you are squatting over, essentially, a hole in the ground and trying to balance yourself. Third, in India we had these squirting hose things that made it much easier to clean yourself. In Indonesia, I have only seen these squirting hoses in hotels or nice restaurants; they are not at all common. This brings me to the problem that has troubled me immensely… pouring with one hand while cleaning with the other. There is a reason the left hand is called the “dirty hand.” It is extremely disturbing, especially when using a public squatty potty where there is no soap… my friends and I all carry hand sanitizer with us wherever we go.
So from there I will continue on to what made us frequent those lovely squatty potties so regularly… diarrhea! For at least the first 2-3 weeks at our training sites it seemed like the rhea was a constant companion of mine. Whether it was a spicy meal, some improperly cleaned fruit, or water that wasn’t sufficiently purified, it all seemed to want to come out in a hurry. It was nothing major or threatening, just normal phenomenons while our bodies, and our stomachs in particular, adjusted themselves to their new conditions. During those first few weeks, I always made sure to have ready access to a toilet immediately after all my meals…just in case. Luckily, in the short time we’ve been there have only been a few cases of bad diarrhea in our group, but nothing too extreme or dangerous. I’m hoping to stay rhea-free for the rest of my trip…keep all your fingers crossed, please!
Mandi. To Bathe. We have neither showers nor bathtubs. Instead there are huge cement vats that hold water that is pumped from a well behind our house every day. There are little plastic dippers that you use to scoop cold (freezing cold!) water onto yourself. There is no hot water! I’m not sure I will ever get used to the cold mandis, but it does get easier. I always have to mentally prepare myself for the first scoop…it’s always the worst…but then your body gets used to the temperature. One great thing about the mandi is that it does promote water conservation, in its own way. When you only have that cold water, you have all the incentive in the world to get out of that bathroom as quickly as possible! There is no lingering, hour-long shower or bath here.
At the beginning of our Peace Corps journey it seemed like squatty potties and cold mandis would be some of the biggest challenges we faced, but after this short amount of time here we have realized that these are the least of our problems and have quickly become second nature.
I will start with the squatty potty. Yes, I have used squatty potties before, especially when I visited India last summer, but I have to admit that this seems like a completely different experience from what I experienced there. First, in my dad’s home in Kerala, we had a regular Western-style toilet, meaning I could sit on it and it flushed, so I was pretty spoiled. Here, even if you have a toilet on which you can sit, it doesn’t flush. You just pour scoopfuls of water into it until whatever you deposited goes down permanently. This really is an art form… there’s a certain motion and a flick of the wrist that ensure proper disposal. In India I usually tried to hold any bodily functions, if possible, until I was able to find an acceptable toilet… but that doesn’t really work here. The potties are almost all squatty potties, especially the ones at the places I frequent most (home, school, friends’ houses, public offices), and the only places you are likely to find sitting toilets are western restaurants (like KFC, McDonald’s, or Pizza Hut) or hotels…none of which I regularly visit.
Second, we had toilet paper. They do not use TP here. They do not have the plumbing capabilities to facilitate the disposal of the TP, so instead they have big tubs of water and a bucket that you can use to pour water to clean yourself. That is not so easy to do, especially when you are squatting over, essentially, a hole in the ground and trying to balance yourself. Third, in India we had these squirting hose things that made it much easier to clean yourself. In Indonesia, I have only seen these squirting hoses in hotels or nice restaurants; they are not at all common. This brings me to the problem that has troubled me immensely… pouring with one hand while cleaning with the other. There is a reason the left hand is called the “dirty hand.” It is extremely disturbing, especially when using a public squatty potty where there is no soap… my friends and I all carry hand sanitizer with us wherever we go.
So from there I will continue on to what made us frequent those lovely squatty potties so regularly… diarrhea! For at least the first 2-3 weeks at our training sites it seemed like the rhea was a constant companion of mine. Whether it was a spicy meal, some improperly cleaned fruit, or water that wasn’t sufficiently purified, it all seemed to want to come out in a hurry. It was nothing major or threatening, just normal phenomenons while our bodies, and our stomachs in particular, adjusted themselves to their new conditions. During those first few weeks, I always made sure to have ready access to a toilet immediately after all my meals…just in case. Luckily, in the short time we’ve been there have only been a few cases of bad diarrhea in our group, but nothing too extreme or dangerous. I’m hoping to stay rhea-free for the rest of my trip…keep all your fingers crossed, please!
Mandi. To Bathe. We have neither showers nor bathtubs. Instead there are huge cement vats that hold water that is pumped from a well behind our house every day. There are little plastic dippers that you use to scoop cold (freezing cold!) water onto yourself. There is no hot water! I’m not sure I will ever get used to the cold mandis, but it does get easier. I always have to mentally prepare myself for the first scoop…it’s always the worst…but then your body gets used to the temperature. One great thing about the mandi is that it does promote water conservation, in its own way. When you only have that cold water, you have all the incentive in the world to get out of that bathroom as quickly as possible! There is no lingering, hour-long shower or bath here.
At the beginning of our Peace Corps journey it seemed like squatty potties and cold mandis would be some of the biggest challenges we faced, but after this short amount of time here we have realized that these are the least of our problems and have quickly become second nature.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
My New Host Family
Lots of people and complicated relationships…the story of my Indonesian family life. So my official “guardians” are Pak Sul and Bu Sul, but I don’t live with them. I live in the house next door (which is actually just an extension of their house split down the middle) with Bu Sul’s late brother’s wife and her family. Bu Sul and Pak Sul rent out rooms in their house to a few students—Anisa, her sister Renita, Maya, Via, and Rina—who attend my school.
In my house are Bu Romlah (Bu Sul’s sister-in-law), her 7-year-old son Ilul, her 20-year-old daughter Alisa, and her daughter’s 23-year-old husband Budi. Bu Romlah’s husband passed away a few years ago of either a stroke or stomach complications (from what I could understand). So a few weeks ago, Bu Romlah got married to her 2nd husband, Pak Sam… and my family expanded even more, but no one except Pak Sam lives with us so I’m not going to confuse you with more people you won’t remember.
In my house are Bu Romlah (Bu Sul’s sister-in-law), her 7-year-old son Ilul, her 20-year-old daughter Alisa, and her daughter’s 23-year-old husband Budi. Bu Romlah’s husband passed away a few years ago of either a stroke or stomach complications (from what I could understand). So a few weeks ago, Bu Romlah got married to her 2nd husband, Pak Sam… and my family expanded even more, but no one except Pak Sam lives with us so I’m not going to confuse you with more people you won’t remember.
I hope you weren't holding your breath....
...but I'm finally back! After buying a laptop, having it malfunction numerous times, taking it back to the store multiple times, finally getting a confirmation that I was sold a faulty Acer laptop, sending it back to the warehouse for a new hard drive, and finally getting it back 2 months later, I am officially back in the game! I promise to write more regularly now. Please subscribe to my blog so you can get automatic reports when I update!
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