This is another installment of Cedar’s Digest, a series of poetic stories about the experiences my husband, Ren Ruslan Feldman, and I are having living for six months in Central Borneo. We are volunteer teachers in a small, innovative Indonesian school. The school is child-centered with a focus on hands-on learning and character development. Classes are taught in English and Indonesian.

5 weeks of class

Hi Ibu
Hi Ale
Selamat Pagi
Apa Kabar?
Baik
Good morning
How are you? Fine.
Walking to school
Greeted happily by the children
now 5 weeks into the school term

Ibu Enda manages the office
copies, supplies, sick children
calls from parents, scheduling
the children know her as the
Ibu who will take care of everything,
solve every problem
and make everyone feel good

there are three teachers rooms
with a desk for each teacher
teachers have time off from teaching
to do prep work
so this room is a good place
to connect
Olivia from England
clues me in to a good website for ideas
for grammar
Pak Alve and I talk about
how we can collaborate on
social studies and economics
with the 7th and 8th graders

the students and I
know each other better
the first days were enveloped
in silence
now, an exuberance
of 11-going-on-12-year-olds
new energies coursing through their bodies
a sweet warmth with the girls
becoming more centered in inner strength
while the boys burst out of themselves
in playful teasing and wrangling
often unaware of their impact

each new teacher, like me,
has a new teaching style
and a new English accent to adjust to
last year’s English teacher was Indonesian
this has it’s challenging moments
for the students

we begin the hour
huddled, the six of them and I
around a book I brought with me
“Anamalia,” finding as many items
as we can on each page
focus and fun

never have I been in a classroom with as much freedom
we create our own vocabulary words
I teach grammar through looking at their writing errors
here are a few examples:

• My brothers are a messy person, but when my mom yells at them they become an organize person.
• Everyday where ever I go I always worries about my family. I’m afraid they are hurt and the only thing I can do is to pray to God so that God give protection to my family so that they are save and I always meet them when I am home.
• Last night I cook an egg, but the fire was so big so I turn it off so it not burns.
• When I was sick I always cough and its hurt. Then me and my mom went to the doctor to see what is happening to me. Then said the doctor, Oh mam, your son sickness was deman berdarah* so he mustn’t go to a hot place or not to play soccer on the field.
*a made up word, Ale says.

Yet again, I mispronounce Syifa’s name
a tear shows in the corner of her eye
not to embarrass her, I write her a note:
“I’m so sorry, Syifa. I mispronounced your name
and I see that it hurt. I want to pronounce it correctly.”
Soon a note comes back to me:
“It’s not because of you, Bu. I’m just sad that someone
has been careless to me.
That name thingy is no problem for me.”
Note back: “Oh, I’m so sorry that someone
hurt your feelings. Is that what you mean by careless?”
Reply: “Yes, it is.”
Our relationship has just gone one step deeper.

Leni and Herni in the office
discover that I’m a psychotherapist
“You’re a psychologist? We’ve never met one.
It’s like in the movies. Are you REALLY a psychologist?”
For a few minutes, they act subdued,
worried perhaps that I am seeing their secrets
“Oh gosh, I hope you won’t stop talking to me now?”
We laugh.

This is another installment of Cedar’s Digest, a series of poetic stories about the experiences my husband, Ren Ruslan Feldman, and I are having living for six months in Central Borneo. We are volunteer teachers in a small, innovative Indonesian school. The school is child-centered with a focus on hands-on learning and character development. Classes are taught in English and Indonesian.



a well-paved road
goes from Palangkaraya straight to Bahrain
on the right at Kilometer 36
is the entrance to Rungan Sari Meeting Center and Resort
with a gate and a guard
on the left at Kilometer 36
is the roughly-paved road to Sukamulya, a Javanese village

after stopping at the little warung (shop)
across from Rungan Sari
we walk toward Sukamulya
a few pickup trucks and
families on motor cycles pass us by
always nodding and smiling
we pass stray cats,
a woman squatting to wash clothes in a tub,
a pile of smoking leaves and yard waste,
a wooden warung
stocked with items which we can’t identify,
and attended by an old woman sitting on a chair,
a partially built house,
seated workmen skinning six-inch thick wooden poles,
children playing in the dirt,
three scrawny chickens on the loose,
small wooden homes
one painted in stunningly bright colors–
green, blue, red,
thick forest with hints of trails

after 10 minutes of walking
we arrive at the YUM compound
YUM is a Subud Charitable Enterprise
the words in Indonesian meaning Foundation for Noble Work
we are welcomed and shown around
pictures on the wall show current projects:
malaria reduction campaign,
batik sewing enterprise,
computer education classes,
Westerners working with Indonesians

on our way back to Km 36
one of Ren’s students
beckons us to visit
we sit on the back porch
he enthusiastically brings us tea
and shyly plays his guitar for us
we meet his mother
with Indonesian greeting of holding palms
and then touching our heart
a customer arrives
she goes to take care of him
the family has a restaurant in the bottom floor
of their home
“It’s really good,” says our housekeeper, Surya

Back across the Russian Road
the Rungan Sari Resort greets visitors
the community is tucked behind
45 Indonesian style dwellings
of assorted sizes and shapes spreading out
on either side of a center strip
with soccer and basketball fields,
the latihan hall
and the school we teach in

And so Km 36 marks the crossroads
of two cultures
but what two cultures?
Western and Eastern?
English-speaking and Indonesian-speaking?
Subud and non-Subud?
white skin and brown skin?
rich and poor?

yes, significant differences
from one side of Km 36 and the other
but, or is it and
many points of interface
and palpable peace and friendliness
right now I’m watching
the Sukamulya teens and a few white dudes
playing soccer on the field here
the morning buzz of motorcycles
brings the gardeners, carpenters, housekeepers
who work in the compound
crossing the highway with the white guys
who work with Indonesians at YUM;
Gaye and Lorna have a business with boat tours
and pay their Dayak staff very well
even when it means reducing their pay
7:50 am brings the buses with 90 children
who come to the BCU school
mix with the several children who live in the compound
and with the official blessing of the Indonesian government
learn English (Inngris) so that they can participate in global commerce;
the young volunteer teachers at BCU live on a wing and a prayer
elders in the compound live okay on a tiny budget
in the West, they would be impoverished
the Subud culture is embedded with Javanese culture
in practices and inter-marriages with Westerners;
here Westerners speak Indonesian (Bahasa)
Indonesians speak English
here local Dayaks surround the airport
to protect Central Borneo from the arrival of
religious extremists and uphold the
peaceful and respectful co-existence of Muslim and Christian

This is another installment of Cedar’s Digest, a series of poetic stories about the experiences my husband, Ren Ruslan Feldman, and I are having living for six months in Central Borneo. We are volunteer teachers in a small, innovative Indonesian school. The school is child-centered with a focus on hands-on learning and character development. Classes are taught in English and Indonesian.

Indonesian Food

guavas and white rice
pineapples and chicken
green beans and river fish
carrots and bananas
white bread and eggs
tofu and tempeh
mango juice and limes
noodles and eggplant
cucumbers and tomatoes
potatoes and basil leaves
bits of beef and tiny shrimp
UHT milk and rice chips
corn and sweet potatoes
onions and red pepper
watermelon and coconut
canned mushrooms and asparagus
magic herbs mashed together
with a stone mortar and pestle
very hot sauce (sambal)

now, using these ingredients
fry the meat, tofu, or fish,
slice and boil the vegetables
and serve over white rice
or make a soup or stew
and pour over white rice
have coffee, tea, or water

THAT’S ABOUT IT!

HOW TO BUILD A HOUSE

begin with what you have at hand
cut 4-inch diameter trees
sit in your yard
and shave the bark off
use these for the structural framing
add slats of rough hewn wood
leave holes for windows
that can be closed with wooden slats
floor of dirt or slats if the house is on stilts
thatch the roof and front porch with sticks and grasses

with increasing prosperity:

frame the windows
add louvers above the windows
to catch the breezes
add glass
open the front like a garage opening
and start a little shop

exchange rough siding for lap siding
add bright colored paint
lime green, sky blue, peach
exchange thatch for corrugated tin roof
raise the peak to hold the hot air as it rises
extend the roof for more shade

tear it all down and begin anew
use cinderblocks for the walls
sturdy posts for roof
tiles for roofing
on both ends of the roof ridge

add windows and louvers
that open and shut
add screens
add a fancy carved wooden door
add smooth cement coating
to the outside walls

add more ground floor rooms
possibly a second floor

THAT’S ABOUT IT!

This is another installment of Cedar’s Digest, a series of poetic stories about the experiences my husband, Ren Ruslan Feldman, and I are having living for six months in Central Borneo. We are volunteer teachers in a small, innovative Indonesian school. The school is child-centered with a focus on hands-on learning and character development. Classes are taught in English and Indonesian.


Saturday
Augus, the driver picks us up at 10
for a shopping trip to Palangkaraya
air conditioned hour drive
to the city of 250, 000
he drops us at “the mall”
while he gets the van lubricated
big four-story building
open in the center
with escalators to each level
overlooking the open center
built in 2006, it has a
pharmacy
K-mart kind of clothing store
“Naughty Girl” store full of girl kitch
jewelry and “Hello Kitty” stuff
barber where Ren gets a great haircut
for US$1.25 while charming the young women
speaking Indonesian
a surprise to them–
white-haired foreigner speaking fluent Indonesian!
at 72, Ren is already older than the life expectancy of 66
“If my wife (isteri) approves, it’s good (bagus).
I agree with whatever she says.”
hysterical laughing the young women respond:
“we would like to have a partner like that.”
office store
bakery
Texas Chicken
clothing stores
ranging typically from cheap to fancy
traditional to modern
expensive fancy massage chairs
to rent or buy
Ren hangs out in one of these
chatting with the salesgirl
while I go up the escalator
to the movie theater and
a gaudy, loud electronic game floor–
a small child accompanied by Dad
happily rides by on an electronic walking elephant

lunch
in a new restaurant
“Green Leaf”
a little more upscale
ahhhh, they have cappuccino
and a salmon steak with veggies and fries
$8….I treat Ren to lunch

Now…groceries
to my dismay, 60% of the shelves
in the store are filled with total junk food
very painful to see
we get peanut butter and jelly
dish soap, hand soap
cling wrap and sponges
hand towels
UHT milk
cookies (not very good)
red rice (a better alternative to white rice)
crackers
cans of baby corn and mushrooms
noodles and spaghetti sauce
processed cheese
the only thing available
and believe it or not, we eat it
to satisfy the cheese craving

half of Sendy’s grocery is like
an old 5 and 10 cent store
with an assortment of mostly really cheap stuff
for our cottage I made a few small purchases
designed for beauty, familiarity and comfort:
a candle, a little flower vase
placemats and cloth napkins
a grater, and a peeler
some better silverware and knives
a screwdriver, a tea pot, pot holder
a couple of mugs and serving dishes

Pak Augus
takes us to a batik store
where we find some lovely clothing items
and some material to sew a top sheet–
something the Indonesians don’t use!
we make antoher stop to buy
more time on our handphone
used for texting
we head home
grateful for the a.c. in the van

Back home
time for a nap
we are sweetly
awakened by two of our students
sisters Thea and Haidee
Russian mom/German dad
they speak Indonesian, English, Russian, German, Spanish
and have also lived in the US and in Mexico
they have a new little enterprise
making and selling fudge and French bread
we buy some
and they stay to chat for an hour
we are delighted to share in their
excitement about school and life

late afternoon
an excellent time for
one of my precious twice weekly
vodka “lemon drops”
the one litre of vodka we were allowed
to bring into this Muslim country
sits in the refrigerator marked off
in ten sections to last the ten weeks
until our spring break trip to Cambodia
ahhhhhh….yes!

Surya, our maid, gets fresh produce, fruit,
meat and fish for us a couple times a week
Utami makes whole wheat bread each week
and delivers us a loaf
fresh squeezed lime juice
is our almost daily condiment
Surya has made one of her best meals
leaving it out on the counter as usual
vinegared cucumber and carrot salad
and chicken, corn, and mushroom dish
to go over red rice
another ahhhhh… as we light the candle
say grace and eat our meal

This is another installment of Cedar’s Digest, a series of poetic stories about the experiences my husband, Ren Ruslan Feldman, and I are having living for six months in Central Borneo. We are volunteer teachers in a small, innovative Indonesian school. The school is child-centered with a focus on hands-on learning and character development. Classes are taught in English and Indonesian.

It took 46 minutes to get to the boat dock
in Palangka Raya
and 9 hours and 24 minutes
to go about 100 river km to the boat dock
in Tangkiling

boarding the boat
so much to see
Indonesian river world
water–deep, thick, chocolate brown
flowing slowly and inevitably south to the ocean
every inch of river bank
a platform for housing
three or four layers deep
thin, rough hewn, wooden planks
attached vertically or horizontally
over minimal framework
of wooden posts and poles
all on stilts burrowed into the riverbed
solidly and precariously
some feet above the river
a visual measure of
the river’s changing height
wooden rafts attached to the front
provide a family’s front yard
women washing clothes
children waving with their whole bodies
standing on the raft
looking out the windows–some with glass, some without
little square stalls
turn out to be
private bathing areas
towels hung over the edge

river shops with mouths wide open
showing their stock piles of goods
board walks connect houses together
straight up the river bank
even further back
layers of warehouses, mosques,
and stocky, odd rectangular structures

city color palette
chocolate brown and weathered gray
sky blue and cloud white
with small rainbow colored accents
from clothing, towels, shop merchandise

river commerce
long, very long canoe-shaped wooden boats
motor at the back end
churning the water into lighter brown
river life is a muffled quiet
broken only by the un-muffled motors
of passing boats carrying people,
packages, food, equipment
who knows what
not that long ago
rivers were the only connectors
from one community to another

our river boat
a strong contrast
large, high off the water
almost soundless motor
a pilot at the wheel
meant not for conveying things
but for unique experiences for tourists
beautiful and stylish
classy deck chairs and couches
tables for food, games, snacks
little library of books
straw hats
fully covered to protect from sun and rain
five sleeping cabins and kitchen below

Gaye’s warm smile greets us
co-owner with Lorna of this boat
and the whole tourist enterprise
she’s a member of the Subud community at Rungan Sari
started from scratch with the first tour going out
just four years ago
she’s passionate about showing people
river life in Central Kalimantan
heading out from the dock
two men in a long river canoe head towards us straight on
wearing “be-nervous-be-very-nervous” smiles
indeed, it looks like a kami-kazee mission
at the last possible moment they veer off
missing us by about an inch
laughing and waving

my camera becomes my eyes
clicking off images
as we float up the river
houses and structures thinning out
and a new color emerging
green
thick forest
new growth maybe 20 years old
logged like a bad Mohawk hair cut
leaving only one kind of original tree behind
smooth barked variegated brown
tree with poisonous sap
that causes severe burns to the touch
new growth now up to two thirds the height
of the survivor trees that turned away the loggers
trees and bushes and grasses
come all the way into the water from the shore
adapting to the feast and famine of the river heights

long stretches of time and slow movement
cradled in a bassinette of brown with
thickly woven, living green sides
the early morning breeze
gives way to a soggy somnolence
as the day heats up and bodies
sweat to cool off
others do not seem nearly as distressed as I
gradually I experience my damp sticky skin
as another organ of perception
a sponge soaking up experience
and wrapping sight and sound
with the fluidity and misty transparency of water
no longer having the sparkly sharp edged purity
of dry, cool perceptions
I am drawn into the new trance

we pass small villages, men fishing, motor boats
small gold mining businesses–
pumping stations in the river
sucking up sand through a large pvc pipe
spilling it down over a kind of sticky carpet
that catches the gold
a Dayak woman on our boat
points out some wide yellow cloth
hung between some trees
“This marks a sacred spot of our people.
You cannot go there except for sacred activities.”
We see several other simple, weathered wood buildings
with yellow flags at the front
and a similar, but smaller building nearby
“See that little house right there.
That is where we leave offerings to the ancestors.”

Yo, a Dayak is married to Jonathan from LA and lives
in an apartment in town.
Her parents were the first from their villages
to leave and go to college.
Endeavoring to help their children appreciate
both the Dayak and the city cultures
they took them back to the village often
“I have been to college and live in the city
and work as a civil servant and am married
to a westerner, and in my heart, in my heart,
I am Dayak. I was at the airport when we
stopped the Muslin extremists from getting off the plane.
I am proud that we are committed to living
peacefully side by side with others of any religion
as long as they are peaceful. After the fighting in 2001
we made a written pact with the Muslims who had
lived here for many generations, that they could stay
as long as they agreed to be peaceful.”

Gaye tells us that we are about to pass the first orangutan reserve
sentence cut short by a loud clamour in the jungle
a very large, long-haired, red, male orangutan bursts onto the river edge
a few yards from us
riveting strong presence
standing like Tarzan ready to beat his chest
he seems really pissed off
quickly retreats back half hidden into the brush
“This is very rare. You don’t often see males.”

More hours of jungle floating
singing some songs, talking, resting
eating a fine meal
freshly cooked on the boat
fish, chicken, rice, soup
water in glass goblets

“Around the bend is the next reserve. This one is the halfway house.
The orphaned orangutans have been taught the basics of living in the wild–
foraging, swinging branches to reach to another tree, building a new nest
every night in a tree. Here they get supplementary food several times a day,
to help them adjust to full independence. We may be arriving
when they are here.”

There they are! 5, 6, 8, no 10 on and around a feeding platform.
Young ones, a few adolescents
exciting moment, rapt attention, the boat idles
“Watch now. They like to pose for you.”
Two climb a tree tussling with each other
the sun turning their fur to gold
Another stretches his limbs out between two trees
in an obvious “just look at me” gesture
Another swings on a vine to our delight
clearly the high point of our trip

now we settle into the last stretch of boating
napping a bit, quiet talking
coffee and tea, fresh hot bananna fritters
someone calls out
“rainbow, no…double rainbow!”
yes, gorgeous
a very rare sight
“I’ve lived here 10 years and this is
only the second one I’ve seen.”
A blessing.

The river bends and we see our cell-phone repeater tower
and the solitary hill, Bukit Tangkiling, close to the town
as it starts getting cooler and darker
soft landing
cars pick us up and drive us
through the lighted and crowded village market
back to our compound
and, for me, a SHOWER

Note: To see additional photos from our river trip, visit the Right Use of Power page on Facebook.  While you’re there, please take a moment to “like” our page.