Pictures

View from Borobudur and me with the next President?

Borobudur

Wed 25 oct

The shopping mall forecast to be open today so off on the bus (50% overcharge for the first time) to find the mall not open for another hour at 9.30. Opportunity to look round the back where a traditional market has a third of the stalls open and I buy potatoes and tomatoes. In the mall I get orange squeezer, milk, bread and cheese. Back at the hostel Biwa and Wati are entertaining some of Wati’s relations – I join them in the courtyard for early lunch, eating my take-away salad that I bought earlier. Thomas invites me to visit Borobudur, it will be busy in the holiday and a long way but an opportunity I cannot miss out on. Pak Biwa gives directions and with all the power of this current m’bike under him Thomas tears away through the traffic and the countryside at breakneck speed. Mount Merapi looming over us on the right and the central Java mountains, our destination directly ahead. The route takes us alongside large irrigation canals and m’bike only tracks, including an old Dutch suspension bridge over a ravine and through the forest up to the monument. Like a pyramid but carved out with terraces, processional ways and covered in carvings it truly is impressive – the largest Buddhist construction in the world. Half way up though, on a terrace I just flake out and weep – I know that if I push myself any further I could be in serious trouble so I persuade Thomas to complete the journey with the camera while I seek some shade and a rest for half an hour. T then persuades me to complete the ascent slowly and Wow! – really dramatic with the pinnacles, the surrounding hills and the views down towards Jogya 40 km away. The journey back takes another hour (cars take two hours and the bus more than three) to a shower, iced coffee and a lie down. It appears that Pak TO did not attend a meeting of Pak Biwa’s DPP yesterday which Biwa is not happy about but he and Wati will nevertheless call on him tonight for the traditional Idul Fitri greetings and says he wants to talk to me about Pak TO when I recover from the journey. He also invites me to visit a farm on the south coast on Saturday where some giant rice is being developed (sounds suspiciously like GM?) and meet his preferred next candidate for the presidency – agreed.

My God can beat your God

Oct 22 Sunday

Check downstairs to Thomas’s room for porage tin I left there yesterday to find him preparing a fresh vegetable soup – I agree to partake – surely will be as good as Alice’s. get myself coffee and wait, and wait. 7.30 downstairs again where Pak Biwa and Ibu Wati are also cooking on the cooker under the stairs but Thomas is preparing for church. He happily accepts my suggestion of going too – he wants to introduce me to his ‘father’. The service has already started by the time we get there and park the m’bike – lots of people are sitting outside, mostly shaded by a large entrance canopy but Thomas finds us spaces inside. Not the principal church in Jogya but still large and new with the tower still surrounded by bamboo scaffolding.. The interior is brightly decorated with murals and the service is being filmed for transmission to those outside. I would guess about 6-800 people there. I refrain from taking the sacrament and we move on to a seminary college where Thomas first stayed when arriving in Java from his island (and presumably before being rescued by Alice). Attractive, almost zen like buildings and gardens – Father x, T’s mentor who studied in Paris shows me round while T returns bike to Biwa promising to return at one to pick me up. Lunch in the refectory with a dozen students and then to the games room where my offer to play chess is rapidly accepted but even after foolishly giving away my queen I am in control all the way to (with all modesty) a stunning victory – Hallelujah! The great sage in the mountains truly sayeth “my God can beat your God”. I should have been playing in Bridgwater last week! – on second thoughts…not.

Lunchtime siesta back at the hostel, it should be compulsory in this heat – you can do so much more first thing or in the evenings after sunset. Then a bit of wind temps me out with the kite but still not quite enough wind and I’m not about to start running! Thomas offers to complete the soup making which we can eat before going to the mall at 5pm to stock up on food before Idul Fitri, and to get a tea towel to improve my washing up hygene and reduce the scope for diarreaha potential. At 5.30 I declare that I will go by bus but apparently they will by now be finished for the day and have gone home – Ah well I’m ok for porridge, have a pint of milk and some fruit. Its 10.30 when Biwa and Wati get back so no chance for the mall and T suspects that all the internet places will also be shut for the holiday but we set of for the wi-fi one and are rewarded with iced drinks and French fries. T makes do with fried rice and chicken and a glass of tea. A number of e-mails confirming that blogsite has been found and Thomas is excited by the views from Google Earth of our hostel, his grandmother’s house by a volcano in Papua and Alice’s family area in Sumatra. All for £2 including food well worth it at least weekly? T has also found the light switch on the m’bike and we get the laptop home safely, without it and the village thing tomorrow we would have gone on to the city centre for the start of the Idul Fitri celebrations. The noise from the two nearest mosques is loud and continuous but it is too hot to sleep with the windows closed.

A price on my head

20 Oct Fri

Thomas tells me that Pak Biwa has learnt that Yogi at the village has made an offer to vso to teach me good Bahasia Indonesia in three weeks (dia sedang bercanda!?) for 5million Rupiah (£300)! Sounds improbable price (I think he is wanting to buy a motorbike) and Yogi though a nice enough bloke has a touch of the Mr Bean about him and I doubt he could teach a cow to moo in that time – must get an email of to vso with my concerns.
Waiting for Pak Biwa to return with his currently borrowed m’bike I prepare a salad sandwich lunch with boiled egg to take with us to the village. No Biwa though so T joins me for a picnic in the cool(ish) courtyard of the hostel. He is missing Alice, and her cooking despite frequent texting.
Off to village afterwards along the busy streets with all the traffic, mostly motorbikes and the scenery, mostly advertisements until we turn of the main road for last two kilometres through the paddy fields and little villages. We find Pak TO ensconced with a local policeman and a reporter. We inspect with TO the house intended for me once again and list the furnishings and fly-proofing that I want – all settled and TO texts the owner who rejects the suggestion (someone standing up to TO! Or just worried that the finance might not come through? So Pak TO to look elsewhere, and would living with a family be ok? Yes could be if I have my own private room and can cook my own food (I later hear from Biwa that residents are being offered up to 1.5 million Rph to take me on and that Pak TO has asked both vso and Biwa if they will pay!). Language training by Yogi, who allegedly has an agreement with vso already(?) – I say that for only the five or six months that I am here I cannot learn enough to get by without an interpreter for meetings etc and anyway a more specialist teacher in Jogya, used to training foreigners would be more effective if needed. I note that I want a further meeting with the parish chairman (dukuh) and also with TO himself about the five houses funded by the banks. TO happy. Has TO been invited by Ben to visit Tempi in Bantul district with me to see some prototype (bamboo) houses? Apparently not but he would be happy, end of discussion. Which bike do I intend to use? The big black one, it wll frighten other traffic. Internet access? “no” (despite what I saw on his computer while he was away) but Internet café only a kilometre away (I make it three but with the bike should be ok?).No dvd drive on his computer but he hands me a usb flash thing to use for transferring data. Invited to village fete affair on Monday, start of Idri whatsit holiday week – I will be collected at the hostel 9.30 am (any bets?).

Back to town before dark I hoped but in town centre its night-time and the bike lights are not working, “never mind, most of the streets here have lights”. Mrs Wati is waiting in some deserted car park to wish me a happy birthday and a few kisses. Back to the hostel for a surprise birthday cake and sit about with Biwa, Wati and Thomas to relay the day’s events – they are sad to lose me but understand that I feel it necessary to be in the village where I am working and I am welcome to stay whenever visiting Jogya city. *pm and with T and the suspect bike to ‘via via’ a Belgian run café fitted out by architect Eko in his Arts and Crafts meets Post-Modernism in a Java flavour style – attractive and with English being spoken in Gallic accents by the customers. Service friendly but not too good. Food good though, I picked Indonesian chicken curry. The live jazz had been cancelled, getting ready for next weeks holiday closure but we had a strolling latin American group standing in. And so to bed…..

refrigerated

View of Merapi from the hostel - when not hidden by heat haze or pollution
17 Oct Tuesday

Still no sign of my boss, Pak TO. Draft a situation (and ‘progress’ ) report for vso HQ inBali and text them for email address to post it to. Walk out to flyover area, lot better now with my big multi-colour brolly as a sunshade, to look for a re-writable dvd to save going through disposable cds. Success eventually – using Bahasa Indonesian but still nobody understands me – one letter wrong and you could be insulting their grandmother – or is it just my impeccable accent?
David, some NGO but ex Oxfam and vso rings, I can attend open ‘disaster co-ordination meeting’ this pm. Unfortunately transport difficulties, manager Biwa is late back on his motorbike (borrowed from puncture repair man down the road) and Thomas and I have problem finding the venue. Eventually track it down at rear of the BPD bank. The car park is choc-a-block with 4x4s from any international aid organisation you care to imagine. The meeting has been underway for half an hour and a handful of latecomers are trying to listen through the open doorway. I decide that this is a serious top level event and not really for small pawns like me.
Thomas and I go window shopping – he for a smarter mobile phone and me for sandals then he goes of to get wife Alice and to meet me at the FM western café. No Alice though, she is wild with him for not yet getting the tickets she needs to get home to Sumatra to see their 2 year old child and her relatives. Nevertheless we have salad and banana pancake along with a beer before going to the mall to pick some horror dvds that Alice likes and they can watch on my laptop.
Back at the hostel Pak Biwa has produced two fridges, the smaller one larger than mine at home he will (ie Thomas will) install tomorrow. Has he assassinated Pak TO who wants me down on the farm or been pulling strings somewhere? Are things about to go horribly pear shaped? Listen in for next weeks episode….. Never mind, watch Mr Bean on tv. Biwa announces that local boss man (Dukuh) has asked if I can give a lecture to his citizens – I bet it was Biwa’s suggestion – “I’ll think about it” response.

I'm only a pawn (or the "street of naughty girls")

Fri 13 Oct
It appears that Wati (hostel owner Pak Biwa’s wife) was taken to hospital at 10pm last night – not sure how serious yet but the hospital is an expensive job here. When panic is over I will see if I may visit. In the meantime no more faffing about – off to Wonokroma village about 15 km south which I read about in internet news reports. Two bus rides prove no problem and am dropped off at rebuilt gateway to the village (rebuilt in concrete).Walk up the street, and yes the place has been virtually flattened, just a handful of lucky buildings including the mosque surviving. Most residents are still in their emergency tents – Red crescent, uk rotary (the one photo today to come out blurred!), Italian and other charities. Introduce myself to interested family who give me their history, show me their house under reconstruction and give me a guided tour of the village. Two varieties of re-construction are evident and photographed – 1, as CEEDED dept of the Islamic University, reinforced concrete framing in 3dimensions with brick infil and 2, with low walls (800 –1000mm height) and a bamboo or timber superstructure with bamboo matting or timber(or ply) cladding. My guide, Mufid is a student at the Islamic University CEEDED dept and confirms Thomas’s description of its location, leaving me his contact details. A tented childrens centre (Japanese) is surrounded by kids on bikes (till I pick up the camera of course!). The river in the woods at the edge of the village is substantial, grey-green and inviting, apparently the children do use it for swimming. A glass of water for me (not for anybody else of course till sunset) and I catch the busses back to Jogya and into hostel by 10.30!

In afternoon I may visit Wati and on back of M’bike with Thomas I buy flowers and a vase. Wati pleased to see us and is bouncing about on the bed with only a drip to suggest any problem. Seems like fasting has caused or worsened her bout of diarrhoea but patients are happily allowed to eat (one of her favourite hobbies). She is in the oldest, biggest (and best?) hospital in town – a Catholic establishment with nuns, crucifixes and religious pantings all round although it seems most of the staff and patients are Muslim. The place is clean with the floor being continuously swept and mopped. Husband Pak Biwa arrives bearing sliced white bread, tin of melted butter, lettuce and mayonnaise for western impromptu meal all round except for the patient who has to put up with the luscious grapes.

Back to hostel for shower and collect my dvd that has my blog report from last Sunday for posting. At internet café connection painfully slow – too many connections or wrong time of day? Manage to read my mail but ater two hour have not managed a reply or to complete publishing to the blog site so give up. Thomas is busy ferrying both me and Pak Biwa around on the borrowed m’bike but we three end up under the flyover for more food and iced tea but mostly for Biwa to present his thesis for his organisation (DPP) which includes IPPHTI who I work for to become a national political party sweeping to power on the strength of the farmers votes. He clearly has reservations about my boss Pak TO who he feels is not being entirely open about IPPHTI’s finances ( or at least not to the DPP). It seems that my residence at the hostel, the problems of finding my project village on the map (let alone get there) or even to acquire a mobile may all be part of a gripping power struggle in which I am but a pawn.

Back to the hostel after midnight where Alice is waiting and probably thinking that husband Thomas has taken me to the “street of naughty girls”. I leave Thomas to smooth things over and go to bed but only to be disturbed by Islamic chanting and singing through mosque loudspeakers through the night – the village must be more peacefull?

A day in the life...

Sunday 8 Oct

Arrive in Jogyakarta, Java at 6.00 am avoiding the ‘porters’ and am met by Pak TO my boss and others to be taken to a student hostel about 5 minutes from the airport with about 20 rooms and pretty smart. This is ‘temporary’ till accommodation at the ‘project’ is ready to my satisfaction – we will see it later.

Off then with same group to one of the devastated villages where Director TO is to give an inspiring address with flip board etc to about twenty local farmers who sit on the tiled floor of the village hall (?) portico. I am introduced, to applause but accept a tour of the village whilst the lecture takes place. (ps must remember on these placements an introductory speech is expected early on). See the extent of the damage, like looking at stills from a war film, perhaps half the population still in their tents next to their homes. Other houses have by a quirk of fate (or their Gods ?) survived or been capable of repair. The people very friendly, or at the least interested in me, inviting me indoors to inspect the damage and repair work. I take some pics and am introduced to a variety of local fruits.

Pak TO then to be taken to the airport, he is away ( on IPPHTI business?) for about a week, and the rest of us continue to the project headquarters in Pak TO’s village, in his house indeed (which the Gods have clearly preserved). About two thirds of the village houses here nevertheless razed to the ground or looking seriously dangerous. A similar tour of the village, still with local interpreter Mr (Pak) Yogi, a teacher who lives here. Introductions all round and get to meet the village head (Parish Council chairman?) at the village hall (well, one of the emergency tents actually). He has kept records of damage from day one to ensure everyone gets the emergency attention needed – must speak to him again soon, maybe before my Director returns, he has no English and my Bahasia Indonesian after 15 hours tuition in Bali is largely limited to greetings and requests for food.

Proposed accommodation for me is a choice between two newly built guest houses(?) – brick built, tiled floors, squat toilet under the shower but with running water (pumped up from well) and electricity – I am to prepare list of furnishings needed to make life tolerable. It just seems so far fom any sort of corner shop, one or two kilometres – let alone anywhere to buy bread or milk.

Project HQ has a computer which I gaily switch on to some consternation (but tell them I’m an expert so they relax…..how long will this last?) Internet access possible but needs Pak TO’s personal password and I see that the anti-virus thing hasn’t been updated for a month. Still, its there, and with a printer which I must inpect next time. Also, there is a large beefy looking motorbike with ‘vso’ logo on the tank (can’t remember its make, but its black). I manage to clamber onto it (that’s enough for one day surely?) and later find that two of the smaller machines, one a semi-automatic are also attributable to vso. Agricultural expert Sam who left a few days ago used the big one it seems. I must have a go riding about in the village area before going out into the wide world where there are tarmac surfaces and masses of happy, mad bikers weaving about like a flock of birds!

Manager’s assistant at the hostel rings to offer me a lift back into town, accepted and sit back to wait. Nobody eating or even drinking, mostly being muslimt I’ offered water and biscuits by Pak TO’s wife and I have a game of chess with young boy who doesn’t go to school because his family can’t pay the fees but is being taught on the side by Yogi who is some relation. Narrowly win the game in time for 15 km (?) ride back to Jogya with Thomas.

Thomas is Catholic (essential introduction gambit) and takes me on a brief tour of the old town around the Sultan’s palace. Sample the soup in the hostel kitchen, ok and have a bowl (3pence). Cooks very helpful and give me some spicy fried chicken, most of which I manage to hide rather than leave. Get to feel all weepy about my language skills, the isolation of the village accommodation and the incomprehensiveness of what I am going to be able to achieve here. A knock at my door though and Thomas, wife Alice and the ebullient Wati (manager’s wife) wanting to take me down town – massive shopping mall (Carrefour etc above acres of parking) where I buy dictionary, maps and porage oats (instant but at least called porage!)

Multi- whats'its

Seems to be no multiculturism here in Bali - a single Balinese culture embrassing many religions all living together in their urban villages. Most people are Hindu but there are many Muslim, Catholic, Protestants and Buddists too. My language teacher is Catholic, my drver (well the vso driver) is Muslim. The police insisted I have a relgion on my Identity Card but I got away with 'Nothing'. The multi religion thing at least gives plenty of holidays, enjoyed by all so as not to give offence! Also each neighbourhood seems to have an almost continuous string of festvals and parties with the streets decorated along with the village hall and the temple, including great 6 metre kites hanging from the ceilings.
Finished my language training, tommorrow motorbike training in the traffic (god help me!) then of to Jogjakarta on Sunday.

Multi- whats'its