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.


Phnom Penh–just the names bring forth
images of war, massacres, jungles, poor peasants,
rice paddies, ambushes, fear, danger, landmines…
flying in, we look down at small green patches
of villages surrounded by fields and connected by
small brown roads
I’m surprised not to see the ravages of war.
The airport is modern-ish
You can get along in English or Khmer or French
Cambodia was a French colony
I had forgotten
Cambodian English is kind of delightful
Since they can’t say the ce or ch sounds,
we hear “Have ni time, This is Fren restaurant,
Do you want ri with that?”
In addition, English is pronounced with a French accent
like: “This is a pagoDA, These are loTUS flowers.”

Our dear friends David and Nerina and their son Curran
meet us at the airport
and drive us to our little bed and breakfast
in the “expat” area of town
Phnom Pehn is an Asian city
coming into its own economically
In the morning, David and Nerina
come by to pick us up in a “tuk tuk”
a quaint little cart pulled by motorcycle
“$2 dollar” (American money is the most popular currency!)
we plan the day, “Let’s see
how about a lovely $8 hour-long foot massage
in a lounge chair with tea or juice?
and then there’s the FCC (Foreign Correspondent’s Club)
where we could go for lunch
it’s on the Tonle River just where it connects with the Mekong
closed up during the war days
but now back in service
tall ceilings, fans,
river views, pagoda views
classic pub atmosphere…
then maybe a nap and a swim
and then Nerina and Cedar can get their hair washed
and their nails done for $7
Then we can go to a wine bar where we get a view of the city
and then a Cambodian barbecue that’s a must while you’re here.”
“Okay, sounds great!”

There’s not much to see in the city
other than daily life happening
and there is plenty of that
the usual street stalls with all kinds of merchandise
the massive central market
teeming, literally, teeming with everything imaginable
and linked with every imaginable smell
exhausting after 15 minutes of wandering and bargaining
new apartments gradually replacing old slums

we have good food, good times with our friends,
friendly hotel to stay in
adventures to remember

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.

9 weeks at school

it’s been nine weeks now
next week is the last of the term
the 6th graders
at first shy and silent
now, arms around each other,
call themselves “The Famous Six”
(a play on a book they read called “The Famous Five”)

chalk it up to the natural result
of familiarity
and there are things they’ve taught me
about how to help them flourish

why are they reluctant to speak English?
their culture is naturally soft-spoken
they are afraid they will say things wrong
and, big one, their passive vocabulary
is sooo much larger than their active one
they know what they want to say,
they’ve read or heard the word
but they can’t pull it into voice

we go through the fabulous book “Anamalia” (by Graeme Base)
looking on each alphabet page for pictures of things
that begin with the letter on the page
they know things like: Roman numerals, raccoon, roller skates,
ram, rocking horse, rolling pin, rattlesnake, register
they pronounce these words in Indonesian (rom, peen)
so I know they have not actually heard the word

for Indonesians, English (Inggris) is very important
because it is their bridge to the world
and Central Kalimantan is one of the least developed
of the large nation of Indonesia
Reading is important, of course,
but clarity and fluency in speaking is at least as important
Monica wrote on a spelling word sentence
“When my family went to Hong Kong, we were frustrated
because even when we spoke English, they didn’t understand us.”
(the spelling word was frustrate)

So my focus has been on speaking clearly and fluently
one of the complications with this is
that they hear so many different accents:
Indonesian English, British English, Australian English,
and more rarely, American English, although
much of their passive vocabulary comes from
watching American movies, and they consider
American, the “coolest” accent

Here are a few of the things we’ve figured out
• practice reading aloud and pronunciation with
younger grade picture books (baby books we call them)
because the words and phrasing are simpler
• when one child says the word incorrectly,
they all practice saying the word
• I notice and praise
“You said the word, that correctly this time.”
“You caught yourself about to get too silly and stopped.”
One day after a multitude of asking them
to speak louder and slower
I tried inviting them to give suggestions to each other
“Can you hear Dion?” heads shake,
“Would you like to?” heads nod
“Could you make a suggestion?”
Bagus smiles and says in a teasing high voice,
“Just a leeetle beet louder.”
We all laugh as I realize he is imitating me
in an exaggerated way….new class joke

• we invent and play “famous person gives a speech.”
each student comes up with one sentence, like–
“My family went on vacation to Jakarta.”
I look at the sentence and then introduce the student:
“Our next speaker is a delight.
She is a world expert on family vacations.
I know you will totally enjoy her speech.
Please welcome Ms. Shila!”
Shila comes to the front of the room
and says her sentence
we coach her to be loud and clear
and confident
She says the one sentence over and over
emphasizing a different word each time–
“MY family went on vacation to Jakarta.”
“My FAMILY went on vacation to Jakarta.”
“My family WENT on vacation to Jakarta.”
We laugh and clap for Shila

• And then there’s the “yes and… game.”
One student begins the story,
speaking directly to the next student
(not to me, so we practice conversation style
rather than teacher to student style)
“Ale and Bagus went to the mall.”
The next student says, “Yes, and….there they met
and he pushed Bagus down.” “Yes, and…Bagus was bleeding.”
We go around three times and the stories that emerge
are funny, teasing, serious, fearful.
Full of the 11 year old psyche: vampires, blood, ghosts,
making messes with food, boy/girl antics and awkwardness.
They’re having fun, they’re talking as if in conversation,
they’re listening to each other, and they’re playing in English
instead of just studying English.
I’m happy too.

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.

Note:  This is a story from late December written at the very beginning of our trip on a memorable stop-over visit with the Pham family. I awaited permission from the family before including it in the Indonesian Adventure Blog.  ~Cedar

He was a helicopter gunship pilot
in the South Vietnamese airforce
He can proudly trace his blood line
through many generations of royalty
One day, deep into the war,
his uncle sent a bus
“Get on the bus…now!”
Wife, 4 little children, other family members
got on the bus
They were taking nothing
but themselves
The bus drove them into a US Military Base

A helicopter flew them to an aircraft carrier
Surprised, they were greeted with clothes and food
They did not understand what was happening
The next day, the war was over
They were the last ones out
A freighter took them to Camp Chaffee
in Arkansas
Khai contacted Subud relatives who had made it to France
At Camp Chaffee, they and many others waited
for someone magical called a sponsor
One day there was a phone call for him
Someone named Lucien
“I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“It’s for you.”
Lucien was a Subud member from Chicago
He would sponsor the Phams.
Khai agreed.

The next day they had plane tickets to Chicago
They lived with Lucien for some months
He had a house painting business
and hired and taught Khai housepainting
My husband, Ren, spoke French, Khai’s other language
So this was a good connection
Ren took him around
Khai remembered Ren’s words after an interview:
“You will never get hired if you respond like that.
You must assert yourself.
You must convince them you are the best person for the job.”

Khai was learning a new culture.
Others offered support and guidance
The family moved to California,
he went to school, he held two jobs,
night watchman, cutting lawns, delivery man
Mimi his wife worked too.
“What was most important to you?” I asked
“School for the children
and getting training in something
that would be flexible.
I got advice to learn computers.
I didn’t like computers.
I was looking for something
that seemed more dependable.
I took one course in Systems Analysis.
That was it. I liked that.
I could figure everything out by understanding systems.”
He got an entry-level job in aerospace
and worked his way up.
They lived where the schools were best.
For 15 years, they didn’t have a vacation or a day off.
After 15 years, he was making enough
that he could take a vacation.
The children went to college:
a psychologist, a lawyer, an accountant, and a hotel manager
He’s proud of them.

We met two of the children
Khoi came to Boulder to interview Ren,
He’s making a film about the people
who helped his and other Vietnamese refugee families
MyKhan is a Senior Lawyer
married to Scott, an advertising executive
They live in LA with their two children
As we sat and talked, Khai said,
“Some people say I was wrong
not to teach my children Vietnamese.
Some people say I was right.
I wanted them to be Americans
with no accent. Now I teach Vietnamese
to my granddaughters.”
Scott, a Caucasian, said, “I want my daughters to be
proud to be Vietnamese. I’m not Vietnamese,
but I don’t think of myself as being in a cross-cultural marriage.”

Interested in cultural identity, I asked one of the daughters,
“Who are you?” To my surprise, everyone wanted to answer this question.
The 5-year-old: “I am a pianist.” The 9-year-old: “I am a girl.”
The mother: “I am a mother of two daughters who will contribute to society.
I earn money to support our lifestyle by working, but my self-expression
happens in other ways.”
The husband: “I am the husband of this beautiful woman,
and father of these wonderful children.”
The grandfather: “I am proud of my good family.”

Khai and his wife Mimi drive a new Mercedes Benz.
Even though they are now retired,
they work full time “giving back”
through a foundation they founded
(www.Reaching-Out-Foundation.org).
It raises money to support two Catholic nuns
and two Buddhist nuns who provide health care and other services
to disabled and poor families in Vietnam.
The Phams were busy getting ready for their next big fundraising event.

We loved our time with this remarkable, warm, and wonderful family.

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.

First Period, First Day
N.B. Freshly written, but from three weeks ago

First period, first day of the term
classroom is simple
white board, bulletin board
teacher’s desk, tables for the students
individual cubbies serving as lockers

the 12 6th graders have been divided into two groups
for English–I have the top half of the students
(should I say the other teacher gets them from the waist down?)
I’m very nervous
I haven’t been in the classroom for 37 years
there is no textbook
the other teachers say just to use the first day
to get to know the students
I have a game or two in mind
but otherwise…
the 6th graders sit politely at their tables
6 of them spread out across the room
each has a well-supplied pencil box
and a notebook with lined paper
“My name is Ibu Cedar.
Cedar in English is a kind of tree.
I’d be happy to tell you anything about me
that you’d like to know. I want to get to know
you too, of course.”
Silence. “What would you like to know?”
Silence. Looooong silence.
“Am I speaking so that you can understand me?”
“Yes, Ibu.”

“Well, let me tell you some things about myself….”
“Now, tell me about you.”
Silence. Long silence.
A few questions
one or two word answers
“Do you understand me?”
Nods
“Can you tell me why you won’t talk with me?”
silence
“Let me guess.
You’re shy?”
“No.”
“You’re afraid?”
“It won’t be good.”
“The words won’t be good enough?”
Nods.
“It’s really important to you to get it right.”
The class bell rings
We have begun.

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.

These writings are accompanied by photos that can be seen on the Right Use of Power Facebook page or on Ren’s Facebook page. To see additional photos of the children and the school, here is a copy of theBCU School newsletter.  

THE CHILDREN AND THE SCHOOL

at 7:45 the children walk by our cottage
they’ve come by bus
most from Palangkaraya, an hour’s drive away
about half Protestant Christian and
about half Muslim
Javanese, local Dayaks,
a few English speakers
blue pants or skirts
white shirts
carrying books,
a few guitars
we walk with them
“Hi Ibu Cedar, Pagi, Pak Ruslan”
(Ibu or Bu for women, Bapak or Pak for men)

at 8 am on Monday it’s already hot
the day begins
with an assembly
the teachers sit behind the children
arranged in rows on the floor
Ren and I are privileged with chairs
100 children in grades 1 – 12
happy smiling faces
and relaxed bodies
show how happy they are at this school
Pak Karim, the caucasion principal from New Zealand,
talks to the children
“I’m very happy to see you.
I like seeing you get off the bus
and walking with your teachers
across the field, smiling and talking.
I’m glad for how well we all get along.
Over the weekend, an extreme Muslim group
landed in Palangkaraya.
More than 800 Dayaks went to the airport
and wouldn’t let them get off the plane.
They told them that this is a peaceful place
where we all get along together and
mosques are right next to churches.”***
Pak Widarjo, the Indonesian co-principal
talks to the children about gratitude.
then the whole school sings together
the high school boys play guitar accompaniment
they love to sing and treat us to a cool variety of songs
with multiple parts
a favorite is “What a Wonderful World”

***This was a big event in Indonesian news! I just talked with Pak Widarjo. The extremists on the plane were coming to establish an official FPI office in Palangkaraya. Apparently the Dayaks (local people) surrounded the airport, and the pilot talked to the Muslim men on the plane and told them that the airport was surrounded and that they were not wanted here. So they left without getting off. The head of the Muslims here in Palangkaraya made a statement that anyone was free to believe or say anything, with one exception, that it not lead to violence. This event sent an important message to the government in Jakarta, Pak Widarjo says. He was happy about the result, because he worries about the growing power and influence of the small number of Muslim extremists who are lavishly funded by the Wahabi Sect who are setting up fundamentalist schools all over the world.

Recently I read a powerful book: “Terrorists in Love” by Ken Ballen. It is the compelling story of the lives, motivations, and training of five young terrorist men who had for various reasons, turned away from terrorism. Written by an American journalist and separately corroborated for accuracy, it is an insightful, chilling behind the scenes look at the world of terrorism. The love in the title refers to the intense love and devotion to family and God that motivates these idealistic adolescent recruits. I recommend it!

Ibu Enda manages the office
copies, supplies
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