Faces in the crowd

Seeing injustice happening right in my face, makes me feel angry, sad but also confronts me with my own selfish me. After more than a year not having a single day without seeing any kind of injustice happening when I walk out the door. I wanted to write a poem about it, to express my battle and give words to what I feel. Now it's finished I'd like to share it with you. I hope you enjoy reading it. And since English is my 2nd language I hope you have grace on any grammer/writing mistake ;)

Faces in the crowd

If we could earn righteousness

Love wouldn’t meant a thing

A simple act of kindness

what would it bring?

If I look inside my heart

do I dare to take my part?

What would I find?

how could I be so blind

Do I dare to open up my eyes?

to be love in disguise

Then when I walk the streets

would I love the one who mistreats

Is all I see the still same to me?

in confusion meant to be?

Do I look the other way

to the outcast of this world today

Will I stand and fight?

for Justice is each right

Cause if righteousness was known in the darkest places

Hope could be seen on million faces

Mercy for all mankind to cling on

hatred would forever be gone

Souls finally in peace

and love would never cease

Cause it’s my heart that breaks

to see an 6 year old working at the garbage place

Or to meet the transsexual - for herself is all she has to give

all for some rice to live

It’s the hungry orphan, fatherless wandering the streets

all these people, all their needs

To hear the homeless boy playing a love song hoping for another coin

where to start, where to join?

In silence I ask: “why”?

When  I meet the girl that delivered her 1^st baby from an older guy

She became any man fantasy show

innocence she lost long ago

The widow with 4 kids and no money for next morning’s breakfast

the world biggest contrast

found on one square mile

together with toothless granny and her precious smile

It hurts injustice to be happen time and time again

in this crazy world it seems to be so normal now and then

And yet reality is so unfair

knowing that my little friend has no shoes to wear

A men, a father, his daughter he sold

for not even a dime of gold

So his family wouldn’t starve from hunger to death

daily by her pimp she's threat

Forced to sell her body every hour again

and her spirit captivated in chain

All these heartbreaking stories

in a world of taken glories

Are they faces in the crowd that just pass by?

do I dare to look them in the eye?

Are they people without a name?

thrown away, covered in dust and shame?

Is my heart filled with grace?

as we meet face to face?

Cause she is a sister,  someone’s  child, a friend

and inside of me it screams for injustice to end

I long for hope, for those who are lost on this earth

the once that are being abused and hurt

To show them the way home

to do more than only writing this silly poem

Cauze how can I look at them without asking why?

or not having a single tear to cry?

Will I live my happy life thinking it’s a far from my bed show

well this evening just down the street she will sell her body again, you know

Is it the constant battle inside my head

to live out compassion rather than being selfish instead

And in the end is all that counts

not money, gold nor other amounts

But knowing what is truly treasured

that’s what will be measured

New cultural experiences

….BEEP,… BeEp,…. beep,….. with one hand I turn of the alarm clock and open one eye to see what time it is: 5.20AM too late to snooze for a while. It was a short night after I came back yesterday evening around 0.30Am. It took a while falling asleep since the drums of the mosque where going all night long. Today is Idul Fitri which means the end of the month fasting for Muslims here in Indonesia, a feast with a lot of food. I’m getting up early to go with my friends to watch the Solat Eid.

 Before the feasting starts women had been busy all night cooking, children and men were hanging in and around the mosque praying and playing the drums. And now around 6ish they all gather together outside on different places in the city to pray together as a closure of the period of fasting and to become clean before Allah.

All men, women, children and babies gathering together. And me and my friend went out to see this to happen.

People gathered together at the road, waiting till its time for Solat Eid

Womens pray at the same field but have their own section

Everybody from Granny till baby

Shot from the back

Praying women covered up from head till toes.

Solat Eid

Man praying in the back

After Solat Eid, they go home and say this phrase to one another:

Minta maaf lahir dan batir.

which means such as asking forgiveness for all their sins, their wrongs they did. It’s about coming clean not only with Allah but also with your family.

I got invited to the house of my housekeeper, which is an honor, I felt a bit shy going there and stepping into this house loaded with Indonesians, all family gathered together. You know it feels a bit like your a baby, all these new cultural stuff, first times and trying to learn and understand. The fun thing is that last year I was here aswell during Ramadan, but as a newbie I wasn't gone that deep yet into relationships and culture. So it's fun to see the difference in myself from a year ago. I grown so much. I learned so much, understand still so less. But my language is fluent and I enjoy talking to people in Indonesian. I made Indonesian friends and I love them! I like to learn from them and to figure out why they do what they do or believe what they believe. And this weeks with so much new cultural things to happen I really felt that I had grown up you know.

I know how to get around here, I know how to find my way and where in the first year it was more about surviving I actually feel that I start to live!

Me visting during Idul Fitri/Hari Lebaran

Left my current housekeeper at the right my current housekeeper

Anyways after greeting everybody in the house on the Indonesian way. They told me to sit down at the bench and to eat all this food. O my it was so much haha they explained all the different dishes, cookies and sweets. Can’t remember it all anymore, but ate some pretty interesting things where my stomach not always agreed with, but I ate it anyways, cause that’s the polite thing to do.. So after I my belly was stuffed and statisfied and they were sure that I wasn’t hungry anymore, I had to asure them 3 times nothing more could fit in haha and they even gave me  me food to bring home to survive for another week haha.

I chitchatted with some people and after that headed home to crash into my bed for a long afternoon nap. And I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one today =)

We call it superstitious, they call it believe..

While I write this blog Ramadan has almost come to an end and things start to be crazy here in the city, prizes on the market has gone up again. For 1 kilo beef you pay 100.000Rp (€ 8,70/US $ 9,90). On Monday I still paid 11.250Rp for a 19 liter gallon of drinking water, today it made 13.000Rp and some even ask 14.000Rp…

The spiritual atmosphere is more intense. People spent a lot of time in the mosque, especially 10 days before the end of Ramadan, so my friend told me.

All people (pulang kampung) return home, so from all over Indonesia people gather together. Places like Jakarta are quiet these days and newspapers are writing about this event. The last tickets for airplane, bus or train are sold for prices that are shocked me.

Since today my helper is not coming in, because she has 1,5 week off. Now she will be home backing cakes, sweets and other delicious local dishes for Idul Fitri, the feast to end the Ramadan.  So I have to take care for the house myself. Poeh…I can’t tell you I feel so blessed to have her doing my laundry, swiping and mopping the floor, and cleaning outside where it’s extremely dusty..

In the meanwhile I started in unit 7 at school. I’m enjoying it very much! Every day I learn new things. This 3th level of language learning isn’t that much about gaining vocabulary or pronunciation, but about learning to understand the way the people think, trying to understand their believes. Can tell you I learned some pretty interesting and useful things.

So I learned about pregnant women about the cultural do and don’ts. I learned about that when a women is pregnant there’s a lot that she’s not allowed to do. Such as standing in the opening of the door, cause that will induce trouble during giving birth, she’s not allowed to eat too much Icecream, not because of she will gain ;) but because of they believe her baby will be very big. Her husband cannot go out fishing otherwise their baby will be born without arms or legs. They like to squeeze cheeks of other babies or touch white people (like me) when they desire their baby to look the same. Some even believe a pregnant women is not allowed to cut meat or cook.. well it’s clear that these times can be troublesome.. 

We call it superstitious, they call it believe..

But the most interesting cultural stuff  for me to learn was about ngidam (cravings of a pregnant women) In Holland (and in the western world) we believe that these desires for food come from hormone change and come from the mom. But here they believe that these desires or cravings come from the baby. They believe when they don’t fulfill these longings from the baby it will be a drooling baby when it’s born. So they will do anything to not have a drooling baby.

So these desires go from understandable to weird and crazy. When I was talking with my friend about it I asked her what ngidam she had. She told me when she was pregnant with her first child she longed to eat pork. Now that’s not so interesting in itself, but this friend of mine is Muslim, so eating pork is not halal, not allowed. But since they didn’t want to have a drooling baby, she, her husband + family decided that it was ok for her to do so. But in the end she only licked the pork to make the baby think that she eat the pork and no drooling baby would be born.

Well these stories and new cultural information got me thinking. I really try to understand how did people start to believe these things and why is it so difficult for them to let go. And till today still people believe this even people who are educated, like some of my friends who I never thought of that they would believe this things.

This week I learned so much and what I shared is only the tip of the mountain ( as we say in Dutch). In these moments when culture is so overwhelming and sometimes goes together with culture shock, hitting me in waves, I try to find my way in this maze of information, believes, values and culture. Where is the line between accepting and adapting or to disagree.  In those times of confusion I like to send this prayer up into the sky:

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference..

To crave cheese and love soto ayam

As I’m writing this blog I'm sitting on the floor inside my house, it’s almost empty. The big chair I used to sit in while writing this blog is already in my new home. I hear the people praying in the mosque asking to their god to show them the right way. Words gently blow along with the soft breeze that comes from the mountains through the valley.

It’s feels strange to leave this place. My house, my cozy place that turned into home, where I spent my first year in Indonesia. And to pack my live (again) together into some suitcases and to realize that everything just fits into 2 cars.

My first year with joy and laughter, a lot of tears and missing. Times of being amazed and annoyed by the culture. Times of reaching new milestones, making new friends and having precious moments. Times where my faith got stretched a lot till the point I thought I couldn’t handle it anymore. Times where I counted my blessings and felt so rich. Times of dying to my flesh and feeling spiritualy so dry. Times where I felt so close to God and felt so much joy and so blessed. Times where some words got another meaning or I discovered the true meaning. Times of evaluation, making conclusions, new changes and true love, to cry, to forgive and forget, to hate and to love, to grow and to fail, to be homesick and to never leave Indonesia again, to miss hugging and to not wanna be touched, to crave cheese and love soto ayam, to miss the snow and to embrace the hot weather, to be cold when it’s 22 degrees and to get masuk angin when it’s raining, to not gourmet with Chrismas but bbq sate all year long.

But for now it’s time to move into my new house and make it feel like home, for as long as it lasts…till it’s time to move on, cause the next season waits to bear the fruits fertilized with tears, joy and laughter.

Sa'ur, Sa'ur!

Sa’ur, Sa’ur! Sa’ur, Sa’ur Sa’ur, Sa’ur, shouts the imam into the speakers from the mosque. I don’t need to look at my alarm to know that it is around 2.30AM. Sa’ur, Sa’ur, I hear the 2^nd mosque starting. I wanna turn around, close my eyes again and sleep, but I hear the 3th mosque starting with the solat subuk (morning prayer)and the drums that already all night where going...

It’s the holy month of Ramadan and even though not everybody is fasting it everybody has to do with it and has influence on the daily live during this month. Also for me as a bule (white person) as well.

So as you could read it people wake up at the call of the mosque for their Sa’ur (meal in the night) so they eat before their solat subuk(morning prayer) and the day of fasting begins. Fasting means no eating and no drinking from sunrise till sunset. Exceptions are made for sick people, pregnant women or when women have their period. So you can imagine this aint easy since dry season has started and the sun is burning merciless.

So out of respect I don’t eat or drink on the street or in presence of my Moslim friends, to not bring them in temptation. Restaurants like MCDonalds taped off their windows so that you still can eat if you don’t fast but it won’t be seen. Most of the warung(little restaurant at the side of the road) and kaki lima (the 5 legged cart at the side of the road where you can buy nasi goreng or small snacks) are closed during most of the time of the day. But open their business around 3PM, when people wake up from ‘catching up’ nap and starting to buy food. So they can buka puasa(open the fast, as they say)at 6PM. All the warung are full packed with people and as soon the clock strickes 6, people buka puasa with kolak (a drink of sweet potato, banana, water of coconut, sugar & vanilla), before they eat anything else. People like to open the fast together with family and friends. Then at 7pm they have Solat Tarawe, which is the special prayer during Ramadan. It starts at 7pm and can continue till 9pm.

Another tradition here is fireworks. Specially the kids and teenagers like to do the fireworks.

During the day the roads are a bit more quiet, which I like. Finally driving my motorbike without traffikjam and going to places can be done in 15 minutes instead of a minimum of 30 minutes. Although later in the month when everybody starts being tired it can be dangerous, cauze the people are sleepy and don’t have that much concentration anymore. It gives dangerous situations and lot of accidents. Besides if you die during Ramadan it’s the best that can happen to you, cuz you’re going straight to heaven.

Anyways this month is a very good month for the sellers of the markets. Supermarkets and local pasars make huge finances out of this. All prices has been gone up. For most of the things you pay twice the price! Imagine..

But still everybody is willing to pay. And during this month it will be a lot about nice and yummie food even though it’s fasting time. So after Idul Fitri, the closure of Ramadan, the prices will go down, but that still takes a while. And some sellers on the local markets don’t go down with their prices. Luckily the government has some rules and inspections. Still Indonesia experiences 10% increase of the prices of products every year!

So as this week is the beginning of the holy month of Ramadan with not too much sleep for everybody and I still have a month to go. I’d better go to bed now and catch some sleep till the next morning’s Sa’ur call..

First times

For everything is a time.

This weeks has been the weeks of the first times.

First earthquake

I experienced my first earthquake. I was sitting on the second floor checking my email and all of a sudden I felt the floor trembling, doors and windows where rattling and it kind of felt like I was on a ship. My house, that looked so strong, turned into a paper box. So me and my friend decided to go outside. I don’t know if that was the safest to do. (now I know tho!! ;))But anyways it was a 4.9 a 150 kilometers from my town. We are all safe and nobody got hurt, cause it wasn’t that big, my house got a few more cracks, but it is still standing and that’s the most important.

First time driving up the mountains for Indonesian BBQ

So a couple of days later, my friends invited me to their party. They live in a small town a 2 hour drive from my place, in the middle of nowhere somewhere in the mountains and inbetween  the sawa’s  (paddy field). So me and some other local friends decided to drive our motorcycles up there and join the party. My first time driving that far on my motorbike all by myself. So I made sure my brakes worked well, got them checked, made sure filled up my benzin to the max so I wouldn’t run out of gas in the middle of nowhere, cause that’s where we headed.  The first part was driving in the traffic jam for an hour zigzagging between the cars and big yellow trucks. It was quite a challenges to follow my local friends and to not to lose sight so I would get lost in the chaos of traffic all around me. It was crazy I tell you, cars honking all around me and me following my friend all around the cars, trying to squeeze my motorbike in between two big cars, being brave and selfish, cause if you drive Dutch style here, you won’t make it. Anyways after an hour of cars, motorbikes and more cars and motorbikes we finally came out of the city, the change was obvious: crappy roads or something that looks like a road. But we had some beautiful sightseeing of mountains and sawa’s. So the last hour and a half we drove into the mountains. Oh and did I already told you it started raining? Probably not, well it was more like drizzle. So by the time we arrived I looked like a freckled bule (bule = white person)haha. And I wish I waited washing my motorbike for another week...

At once we arrived the men amused themselves with killing the birds that where on the BBQ menu for that night. (Thank God I’m a women ;)) As we women gathered in the kitchen where I learned to make some Indonesian dishes and tried to make the seasoning at the traditional way. Apparently I did it to slow (or wrong) and my friend took it over. I watched and learned ;)

So I had my first BBQ experience here in Indonesia, and of course we put different things on the BBQ then I’m used to in Holland. And after all what is a BBQ without eating the meat with rice? Anyways birdmeat is quite nice and I had a lovely time with my friends, catching up after a long time no seen.  And as I warmed myself at the fire (yes high in the mountains it can be cold at night) having black corn with butter and sugar for desert. I found myself  happy and in peace, thinking how it is a privilege to be here with my local friends sharing, praying and having loads of fun. Life is good and I love it!