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
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
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.”
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
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.
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.
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