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.
“We’re leaving at 4 am?! Wow.
42 of us? 2 buses?”
It’s a National Holiday so school is closed.
Ibu Endah and a few teachers
organize a trip to Banjarmasin,
the biggest city in Central Kalimantan.
The school is paying for buses and meals.
“Send him back here.”
A couple of hours into the journey
Ibu Endah’s littlest son, a 3 year old,
gets handed back to “aunt” Rida and her husband, Hassan
he talks away describing everything he sees.
we pass warung after warung
side by side selling identical items
drinks, snacks, grocery items on open shelves
table and chairs set out under an open air porch
shopkeepers sitting ready
to serve customers who may arrive, or not
Dayak “longhouses” in major desrepair
wooden, on stilts, weathered, a city block long
in the not-too-distant past each longhouse
was occupied by a village of families
a commune/co-housing mix.
We see palm plants, coconut and banana trees,
fields and fields of rice
We see villages built around little waterway roads
boats tied up on the banks
houses on stilts at the very edge of the canal
a woman washing clothes at water’s edge
a man carrying stalks of bananas
in his “klotok” boat with the sound of the motor
trailing behind him
We see Mosques and homes under construction
with thin, lashed poles as scaffolding.
How does this flimsy skeleton actually hold anything up?
“What are these weird concrete square 3 story buildings
with little round holes in the sides?”
“For swallow nest eggs, bu.”
“Are swallows endangered or something?”
“No, for Chinese eating eggs and nest a special thing.”
(Oh yes, I’ve heard of these expensive bird’s nest soups.)
Inside the bus (bis), our teacher friends and their spouses,
other school staff (driver, cooks, handyman, office help)
and their families–kids ranging from 2 to 14, mostly little boys.
This is a family vacation for them.
Many have never been to Banjarmasin, a four-hour drive.
They are pretty excited.
“Gua, Gua, Gua” calls out the “Bus Father,” Pak Baktiar
as he steps over the big spare tire on the floor of the middle of the bus
to pass out water bottles (agua is the brand name),
chocolate cupcakes, and breakfast rice treats wrapped in banana leaves.
Music is loud and jaunty–a Javanese pop group based on
classical Arabic and Javanese rhythms
atmosphere is light, even after two hours
the children are very quiet and easy to be around
the road buffets and bangs us around
the pavement is only wide enough for two narrow cars to pass
the driver moves into the right lane
to see if there is an on-coming car
yes, there is. he moves back behind the truck
he tries again, coast is clear
passes with two wheels in the dirt beside the road
the truck inches away from the car we pass
our driver speeds up as fast as he can
and slides back into left lane
just in time
once again his calculations were good
we speed along
suddenly slow down
pot hole
bump
gravel spot
speed, sudden slow down
jounce, bump, sway, swipe
this is “the way it is” on Indonesian highways
bus slows down and pulls over
the bus ahead has stopped
bus trouble
10 minutes later
changing a tire
Baktiar is directing traffic
30 minutes later
big bus trouble, we guess,
apparently more than a tire is needed
50 minutes later
it’s HOT
no one on the bus complains
not one of the 10 children fusses
no one asks what’s happening,
Ibu Rida hands me a chocolate cupcake
1 hour 10 minutes
“It’s going to take a long time to repair.
Our bus is going to go ahead.
They will send two vans for the people in the other bus.”
Off we go, arriving at noon
4 hour ride becomes 8 hour journey
“Have anything you want. Go up there to order. Sit at tables 6 or 8.”
“Saya mau udang bakar.” “Satu? Dua?” “Satu.”
“I’ll have one large barbecued shrimp.”
open air barbecue restaurant–”Fauzan 2,” it’s called.
All you can eat: chicken, shrimp, fish–all with rice (of course)
soup, baked tofu, corn fritters, sprouts, home made hot sauce (sambal)
long, long picnic tables
good food, happy conversation, but
even the Indonesians are sweating with the heat
hey, we’re eating lunch in the oven!
this is where we find out that our teacher friends
refer to us lovingly as “our ancient ones”
we are indeed ancient in this culture to be 67 and 72
and this active and lively
I try to explain that I am going to my 50th high school reunion
and that my mother is going to her 70th college reunion,
but this is a bridge too far
“50….5 and an 0? 1962? 70….7 and an 0? Your mother is still alive???”
right now I am happy and honored to be one of their ancient ones
We drive around the city
for many, their first view of buildings higher than 3 stories
then go to the mall
for many, this 5 story, modern mall is astonishing
for us, familiar…Kentucky Fried Chicken, big box grocery, Pizza Hut, Body Shop,
A & W that they call “ah way” “Too much effort to say ‘A and double u,’” says Kris.
The A & W motto in Indonesian is “restoran khas Amerika”
(authentic American restaurant).
the furniture warehouse has fancy upholstered living room sets –
Victorian gold wooden swirls with several fabric patterns on each piece
We don’t go to museums, or monuments–I don’t think there are any.
we spend our remaining 4 hours in Banjarmasin
exploring the mall–where everyone goes for a taste of luxury,
a bite of western food, and a respite from the heat
There’s something for everyone at the mall
children’s play area, inexpensive interesting food
luxury window shopping and budget purchase opportunities
eye candy galore
and escalators and decks and spacious open areas–all free
we set out for home at 6
we should be back by 10
children settle down on laps to sleep
the spare tire is converted to a bed for Anon
with a little mattress that appears out of nowhere
Surya puts her hand around him
to keep him from rolling off into the door-well
7:30, the bus pulls over and the driver gets out
we try to sleep
20 minutes later, he gets back in and we take off
the LOUD music returns
our friends are unperturbed
the children sleep
30 minutes later we pull over again
“Do we know what is happening? I ask Ibu Ellis
“The driver is sleepy and needs to rest and smoke.”
40 minutes later, the driver returns and we move again
The bus father goes up to sit in the front with him
Two more stops to check on the broken bus–still where it was left
and help a guy with a broken motorcycle.
We finally arrive back in front of the school at 1 am
what a day!
No one questions, no one demands, no one gets angry
this is “the way it is”
this is the best of Indonesia, where life itself is a gift
and you accept and express gratitude for whatever you are given–
sickness, low paying job, days off, food, broken bus, sleepy bus driver,
why complain? wasted energy…just be grateful
we Westerners could benefit from a gentle and strong infusion
of acceptance, surrender, and gratitude
At the end of the day, Surya, our housekeeper, says, “I’m very, very happy, Pak.”
And she is. Always smiling. Smart, bright, grateful.
Perhaps this infusion could bring a relaxation, appreciation, and happiness
that we long for
the Indonesians could benefit from a gentle and strong infusion
of energy to create, to change, to move ahead
We have a lot to offer each other
There’s a “zone” along the continuum from extreme surrender to extreme willfulness
where we could all be happier and healthier
and where the most lively question is:
when to accept what is and when to change what is
and where the most lively process is that of
growing into the wisdom of knowing the difference
(Image: stock.xchng/johnnyberg)
“We’re leaving at 4 am?! Wow.
42 of us? 2 buses?”
It’s a National Holiday so school is closed.
Ibu Endah and a few teachers
organize a trip to Banjarmasin,
the biggest city in Central Kalimantan.
The school is paying for buses and meals.
“Send him back here.”
A couple of hours into the journey
Ibu Endah’s littlest son, a 3 year old,
gets handed back to “aunt” Rida and her husband, Hassan
he talks away describing everything he sees.
we pass warung after warung
side by side selling identical items
drinks, snacks, grocery items on open shelves
table and chairs set out under an open air porch
shopkeepers sitting ready
to serve customers who may arrive, or not
Dayak “longhouses” in major desrepair
wooden, on stilts, weathered, a city block long
in the not-too-distant past each longhouse
was occupied by a village of families
a commune/co-housing mix.
We see palm plants, coconut and banana trees,
fields and fields of rice
We see villages built around little waterway roads
boats tied up on the banks
houses on stilts at the very edge of the canal
a woman washing clothes at water’s edge
a man carrying stalks of bananas
in his “klotok” boat with the sound of the motor
trailing behind him
We see Mosques and homes under construction
with thin, lashed poles as scaffolding.
How does this flimsy skeleton actually hold anything up?
“What are these weird concrete square 3 story buildings
with little round holes in the sides?”
“For swallow nest eggs, bu.”
“Are swallows endangered or something?”
“No, for Chinese eating eggs and nest a special thing.”
(Oh yes, I’ve heard of these expensive bird’s nest soups.)
Inside the bus (bis), our teacher friends and their spouses,
other school staff (driver, cooks, handyman, office help)
and their families–kids ranging from 2 to 14, mostly little boys.
This is a family vacation for them.
Many have never been to Banjarmasin, a four-hour drive.
They are pretty excited.
“Gua, Gua, Gua” calls out the “Bus Father,” Pak Baktiar
as he steps over the big spare tire on the floor of the middle of the bus
to pass out water bottles (agua is the brand name),
chocolate cupcakes, and breakfast rice treats wrapped in banana leaves.
Music is loud and jaunty–a Javanese pop group based on
classical Arabic and Javanese rhythms
atmosphere is light, even after two hours
the children are very quiet and easy to be around
the road buffets and bangs us around
the pavement is only wide enough for two narrow cars to pass
the driver moves into the right lane
to see if there is an on-coming car
yes, there is. he moves back behind the truck
he tries again, coast is clear
passes with two wheels in the dirt beside the road
the truck inches away from the car we pass
our driver speeds up as fast as he can
and slides back into left lane
just in time
once again his calculations were good
we speed along
suddenly slow down
pot hole
bump
gravel spot
speed, sudden slow down
jounce, bump, sway, swipe
this is “the way it is” on Indonesian highways
bus slows down and pulls over
the bus ahead has stopped
bus trouble
10 minutes later
changing a tire
Baktiar is directing traffic
30 minutes later
big bus trouble, we guess,
apparently more than a tire is needed
50 minutes later
it’s HOT
no one on the bus complains
not one of the 10 children fusses
no one asks what’s happening,
Ibu Rida hands me a chocolate cupcake
1 hour 10 minutes
“It’s going to take a long time to repair.
Our bus is going to go ahead.
They will send two vans for the people in the other bus.”
Off we go, arriving at noon
4 hour ride becomes 8 hour journey
“Have anything you want. Go up there to order. Sit at tables 6 or 8.”
“Saya mau udang bakar.” “Satu? Dua?” “Satu.”
“I’ll have one large barbecued shrimp.”
open air barbecue restaurant–”Fauzan 2,” it’s called.
All you can eat: chicken, shrimp, fish–all with rice (of course)
soup, baked tofu, corn fritters, sprouts, home made hot sauce (sambal)
long, long picnic tables
good food, happy conversation, but
even the Indonesians are sweating with the heat
hey, we’re eating lunch in the oven!
this is where we find out that our teacher friends
refer to us lovingly as “our ancient ones”
we are indeed ancient in this culture to be 67 and 72
and this active and lively
I try to explain that I am going to my 50th high school reunion
and that my mother is going to her 70th college reunion,
but this is a bridge too far
“50….5 and an 0? 1962? 70….7 and an 0? Your mother is still alive???”
right now I am happy and honored to be one of their ancient ones
We drive around the city
for many, their first view of buildings higher than 3 stories
then go to the mall
for many, this 5 story, modern mall is astonishing
for us, familiar…Kentucky Fried Chicken, big box grocery, Pizza Hut, Body Shop,
A & W that they call “ah way” “Too much effort to say ‘A and double u,’” says Kris.
The A & W motto in Indonesian is “restoran khas Amerika”
(authentic American restaurant).
the furniture warehouse has fancy upholstered living room sets –
Victorian gold wooden swirls with several fabric patterns on each piece
We don’t go to museums, or monuments–I don’t think there are any.
we spend our remaining 4 hours in Banjarmasin
exploring the mall–where everyone goes for a taste of luxury,
a bite of western food, and a respite from the heat
There’s something for everyone at the mall
children’s play area, inexpensive interesting food
luxury window shopping and budget purchase opportunities
eye candy galore
and escalators and decks and spacious open areas–all free
we set out for home at 6
we should be back by 10
children settle down on laps to sleep
the spare tire is converted to a bed for Anon
with a little mattress that appears out of nowhere
Surya puts her hand around him
to keep him from rolling off into the door-well
7:30, the bus pulls over and the driver gets out
we try to sleep
20 minutes later, he gets back in and we take off
the LOUD music returns
our friends are unperturbed
the children sleep
30 minutes later we pull over again
“Do we know what is happening? I ask Ibu Ellis
“The driver is sleepy and needs to rest and smoke.”
40 minutes later, the driver returns and we move again
The bus father goes up to sit in the front with him
Two more stops to check on the broken bus–still where it was left
and help a guy with a broken motorcycle.
We finally arrive back in front of the school at 1 am
what a day!
No one questions, no one demands, no one gets angry
this is “the way it is”
this is the best of Indonesia, where life itself is a gift
and you accept and express gratitude for whatever you are given–
sickness, low paying job, days off, food, broken bus, sleepy bus driver,
why complain? wasted energy…just be grateful
we Westerners could benefit from a gentle and strong infusion
of acceptance, surrender, and gratitude
At the end of the day, Surya, our housekeeper, says, “I’m very, very happy, Pak.”
And she is. Always smiling. Smart, bright, grateful.
Perhaps this infusion could bring a relaxation, appreciation, and happiness
that we long for
the Indonesians could benefit from a gentle and strong infusion
of energy to create, to change, to move ahead
We have a lot to offer each other
There’s a “zone” along the continuum from extreme surrender to extreme willfulness
where we could all be happier and healthier
and where the most lively question is:
when to accept what is and when to change what is
and where the most lively process is that of
growing into the wisdom of knowing the difference
(Image: stock.xchng/johnnyberg)
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