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!)
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!)
posted by bairuide | 4:45 pm
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