Dear Friends,
This is my last night here. The rain is pouring harder than I have heard it yet. It is a relief. I will miss the rain here, the untamed tears that come gushing at unpredictable times of the day…so loud that it drowns out the music from my lap top on full volume. It waxes and wanes…in indecision of whether there are more disappointments to complain of for the moment.
Clara said to me at our last dinner tonight…'try not to be such a perfectionist, Bev,' in the way she says Bev frequently interjected into short sentences she likes to use. 'you're already doing everything with your heart, Bev…you know you have to enjoy every moment of the processes…of life.' That's really all she said…she never says much, but I think I will remember this.
I ate 5 dishes of sauce with my squished chicken today…like an appropriate last time. Record breaking really. I know I will be back. But not for a long time I know. This place has gotten sweeter and softer than I remember it to be. Perhaps that is what friendship feels like…with people, with a place.
All in all I feel quite lucky this time…actually, amazingly lucky. Things somehow fell into place for the time being. Perhaps God was watching over me this time around. Perhaps I finally learned not to set my goals too high.
My professor toasted me today. It meant a lot to me but somehow not too much. I didn't really feel the need for the affirmation. I consider that a big step for me.
There was a big dinner party at the office for the departure of Dr. Rizal yesterday. I finally felt part of the family like never before. I bought the girls in the office silly headbands with pom poms on them. They thoroughly enjoyed it for every bit of the 5,000 Rupiah they were worth. Giving gifts are by far what makes me the happiest out of all the things I could do. I often forget that.
I will miss Faras, the granddaughter of my landlords here. She is one of those children who exemplifies everything good and beautiful about childhood…innocence, curiosity, mirth, spontaneity. Children are even harder to describe than adults probably. Perhaps because words are invented by adults. She named the stuffed cat I gave her Susie, but the first name was inevitably Animal.
I finished inputting the data from the census of the village. I'm so proud of the women of this village to have contributed so much. Mostly though because I'm so impressed that they actually managed to administer most of the questionnaire correctly, a process I doubt they have ever encountered before…a stream of Boolean logic so routine for our overly-educated scientific minds, so artificial and awkward for what nature intended.
I am impressed by this place: the people, their challenges, their inevitable flaws, and their energy that flourishes here in the exhausting heat and extinguishing rain. I could not live here, but I wouldn't want to ever stop coming back.
Bev
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Sunday, January 13, 2008
The Camp
Dear Friends,
I was reading through my journal from this summer…it’s the same journal I’m using now because I didn’t quite fill it up last time. I was reminded of the tensions I experienced that no longer haunt me here. I think I have changed a lot…perhaps during that summer, perhaps after.
I found this excerpt that was the last one I wrote from Meulaboh before I left for Bali.
What it is that I cannot even confess here is my own fragility. My uncertainty that what I believe and see and feel is even what I really believe and see and feel – or should I be feeling something else? Perhaps I enjoy writing because it does not let me change my mind. Such that for once, my thoughts are still and eternal. In reality, every thought is a quiver and every belief just a trembling stumble into a certain direction.
Yes, that feeling lasted all summer…until I finally reached Bali I think…and even then, not until the third day. It was my birthday. I bought myself a drink and sat at the bar of a hip restaurant listening to a band that played international new-age music. I think I told myself I had arrived at something I could call my own accomplishment – probably one of the first in my life that wasn’t invested in, demanded, or deemed important by someone else. It was my own choice, one of my first choices I really owned.
This time around, such choices seem more natural to me. I guess I’m growing up.
It’s incredibly hot outside today. There are so few clouds in the sky such that there’s just no avoiding the sun. These days I would rather work in the airconditioned office than be on vacation out in the heat.
We had a large meeting with the community leaders yesterday along with the boyscouts. It was a major milestone and crucial step: the response from the community really makes or breaks this project. There were 16 block chiefs, one village secretary, and one village chief. I was most impressed by the village chief who is also the religious leader in the village. He was a short man, maybe only a couple inches taller than I am, and he had one of those faces that seemed to have found everlasting peace. He wore a plain white garment and white pants and a hat men here wear for religious activities. He spoke very softly throughout the meeting and really spoke very little at all. Every motion and word had a sense of finality and deliberateness. He’s one of those leaders that upon the first glance, one could immediately understand why he was the chosen one. I am looking forward to meeting with him again.
It was Professor Azrul’s last day today. He is the national boyscout leader in Indonesia. He was to leave at 6am this morning. I happened to be awake then due to my sluggishness in overcoming jet lag so I rushed out to say goodbye to him. He came out of his room to sit and chat for a while. He leaned back in his chair and spoke as he gazed off into the distance – his usual posture while telling tales of his life past. Just looking at the way the light glazes over his dark leathery skin, one senses the many lives he must have lived: writing books on everything from romance to biostatistics, serving public offices with various titles, traveling around the world giving lectures on public health, being shuttled from place to place by an entourage of young scouts. He says to me ‘I pray to God and ask Him to not make me too wealthy…it’s the wealthy ones that have the problems…why do you think all those men have mistresses these days?’ I joked to him that I will make sure I don’t find a husband who is too rich.
We visited a scout camping event last evening. It was held at the school where the children go. There were 7 or 8 tents of various shapes and sizes set up in the school courtyard. Most of the children were eating in one of the classrooms. They had cooked the food themselves. We asked the boys who were better cooks, the boys or the girls, and they responded quite seriously that it was one of them in particular, as though there was no question. One table of girls were singing a song as we entered. I fumbled to switch my camera to the video function but failed to capture it on time as the room was lit only with a few small candles on the tables. The children’s families had donated the materials for them to cook: the rice, some chicken and vegetables. It was simple but the children seemed content. This was the first camping event the scouts in this city have had since the tsunami, the scout leader said with pride. We congratulated him. I felt very excited for the children, to imagine what it must be like to be the first to have this experience in years in all of Meulaboh (although nearly invisible on the map, it’s a big place for the children here). I remembered the sheer bliss that small events out of the ordinary had brought me when I was younger: the unquenchable excitement of what could happen, of sleeping in a tent outside of home, of being surrounded by my friends past dinner time, of staying up past curfew…these are degrees of excitement I no longer reach…I again recalled that these peaks of happiness have been eroded by the sands of persistently lingering worry and disappointment that comes with age. The happiness I know now is one of contentment, a warm glow with tapered edges. Only through watching the children do I come close to feeling that kind of happiness again.
It’s time for me to move on with my day. Hope everyone is well at home…don’t take cold weather for granted!
Bev
I was reading through my journal from this summer…it’s the same journal I’m using now because I didn’t quite fill it up last time. I was reminded of the tensions I experienced that no longer haunt me here. I think I have changed a lot…perhaps during that summer, perhaps after.
I found this excerpt that was the last one I wrote from Meulaboh before I left for Bali.
What it is that I cannot even confess here is my own fragility. My uncertainty that what I believe and see and feel is even what I really believe and see and feel – or should I be feeling something else? Perhaps I enjoy writing because it does not let me change my mind. Such that for once, my thoughts are still and eternal. In reality, every thought is a quiver and every belief just a trembling stumble into a certain direction.
Yes, that feeling lasted all summer…until I finally reached Bali I think…and even then, not until the third day. It was my birthday. I bought myself a drink and sat at the bar of a hip restaurant listening to a band that played international new-age music. I think I told myself I had arrived at something I could call my own accomplishment – probably one of the first in my life that wasn’t invested in, demanded, or deemed important by someone else. It was my own choice, one of my first choices I really owned.
This time around, such choices seem more natural to me. I guess I’m growing up.
It’s incredibly hot outside today. There are so few clouds in the sky such that there’s just no avoiding the sun. These days I would rather work in the airconditioned office than be on vacation out in the heat.
We had a large meeting with the community leaders yesterday along with the boyscouts. It was a major milestone and crucial step: the response from the community really makes or breaks this project. There were 16 block chiefs, one village secretary, and one village chief. I was most impressed by the village chief who is also the religious leader in the village. He was a short man, maybe only a couple inches taller than I am, and he had one of those faces that seemed to have found everlasting peace. He wore a plain white garment and white pants and a hat men here wear for religious activities. He spoke very softly throughout the meeting and really spoke very little at all. Every motion and word had a sense of finality and deliberateness. He’s one of those leaders that upon the first glance, one could immediately understand why he was the chosen one. I am looking forward to meeting with him again.
It was Professor Azrul’s last day today. He is the national boyscout leader in Indonesia. He was to leave at 6am this morning. I happened to be awake then due to my sluggishness in overcoming jet lag so I rushed out to say goodbye to him. He came out of his room to sit and chat for a while. He leaned back in his chair and spoke as he gazed off into the distance – his usual posture while telling tales of his life past. Just looking at the way the light glazes over his dark leathery skin, one senses the many lives he must have lived: writing books on everything from romance to biostatistics, serving public offices with various titles, traveling around the world giving lectures on public health, being shuttled from place to place by an entourage of young scouts. He says to me ‘I pray to God and ask Him to not make me too wealthy…it’s the wealthy ones that have the problems…why do you think all those men have mistresses these days?’ I joked to him that I will make sure I don’t find a husband who is too rich.
We visited a scout camping event last evening. It was held at the school where the children go. There were 7 or 8 tents of various shapes and sizes set up in the school courtyard. Most of the children were eating in one of the classrooms. They had cooked the food themselves. We asked the boys who were better cooks, the boys or the girls, and they responded quite seriously that it was one of them in particular, as though there was no question. One table of girls were singing a song as we entered. I fumbled to switch my camera to the video function but failed to capture it on time as the room was lit only with a few small candles on the tables. The children’s families had donated the materials for them to cook: the rice, some chicken and vegetables. It was simple but the children seemed content. This was the first camping event the scouts in this city have had since the tsunami, the scout leader said with pride. We congratulated him. I felt very excited for the children, to imagine what it must be like to be the first to have this experience in years in all of Meulaboh (although nearly invisible on the map, it’s a big place for the children here). I remembered the sheer bliss that small events out of the ordinary had brought me when I was younger: the unquenchable excitement of what could happen, of sleeping in a tent outside of home, of being surrounded by my friends past dinner time, of staying up past curfew…these are degrees of excitement I no longer reach…I again recalled that these peaks of happiness have been eroded by the sands of persistently lingering worry and disappointment that comes with age. The happiness I know now is one of contentment, a warm glow with tapered edges. Only through watching the children do I come close to feeling that kind of happiness again.
It’s time for me to move on with my day. Hope everyone is well at home…don’t take cold weather for granted!
Bev
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
The Traffic Light
Dear Friends,
Hope you all had a great New Years. I just arrived here in Meulaboh again yesterday afternoon. I’m staying in the same room I stayed in last summer. The office got some new furniture and the guest house lost some furniture, but I suppose gained more space.
I’m listening to that same calling for the prayer I heard last summer, sitting in my bed, wide awake at 4am. So strange being back to a place so foreign yet so familiar. I suppose I am just as foreign, just as familiar to myself as well. The way I appear in the rusted, mildly distorted mirror on the cabinet in the corner of this room…the shape of my thighs, the blemishes on my face, the waves in my hair…all strangely not quite the same as before. It’s a bit like time-lapse photography, revisiting a place after a while has passed, seeing it and myself in juxtaposition with the way we were in my memories. Even the feeling of mosquito bites that awaken me in the middle of the night reminds me of how things remained the same and have changed in an unmeasurable way.
Perhaps most of it is me that has changed: my goals, what I long for at home, my feelings about this place – from one of discovery to one of nostalgia.
It’s actually quite chilly here at night…I had to put on a sweater to go outside! What a concept. It rains several times a day here these days. It reminds me of the relief I felt over the summer whenever rain fell from the sky. And yet it’s all so plentiful now. Another thing that is the same yet different I suppose.
Time is a funny thing. It changes so much. Just time alone. The big talk of the office is that there’s now a single traffic light on our street. The first and only one in Meulaboh. It’s shocking to see the traffic actually obey something. That particular intersection was previously policed by 4-5 men and women but mostly operated under the rules of first come first serve/who can honk the loudest and most persistently.
It’s funny to imagine I was just walking around the Magic Kingdom 5 days ago. It’s amazing how we traverse time and space these days.
I think I can learn a lot this time around about how to get things done. It’s a bit overwhelming since there’s about 6-7 people in the office alone who is working on this project and several other projects at the same time. So many people to coordinate with. I’m still unsure who is ‘my boss.’ It appears that it might be this new officer, Dr. Rizal. He seems very organized and experienced. He’s also very polite, almost to a point that makes me uncomfortable. I hope I can learn a lot from him. I think I will make that one of my goals. The meetings are going to involve several more people than I expected, which will make it much harder to predict how they will go. It’s a different feeling than anything I’ve tried to accomplish before. It’s a bit like trying to stay on the back of a bucking bronco…so many times you just want to give up and fall onto the hay, but you just have to keep pulling yourself onto the saddle despite feeling like you never quite get on it before falling off again. I’m hoping things will settle a little bit after this first week once the major introductory meetings have taken place. I’m just trying to give a good first impression – be humble but not seem too disorganized so that I earn some respect.
It’s hard to predict what will happen in the next two weeks. The only thing I foresee is that it will be a lot. Nothing will be routine this time around. I’m hoping I can take a minibreak to the city for a couple of days, but it will have to depend on what God wills.
I will write again soon,
Love, Bev
Hope you all had a great New Years. I just arrived here in Meulaboh again yesterday afternoon. I’m staying in the same room I stayed in last summer. The office got some new furniture and the guest house lost some furniture, but I suppose gained more space.
I’m listening to that same calling for the prayer I heard last summer, sitting in my bed, wide awake at 4am. So strange being back to a place so foreign yet so familiar. I suppose I am just as foreign, just as familiar to myself as well. The way I appear in the rusted, mildly distorted mirror on the cabinet in the corner of this room…the shape of my thighs, the blemishes on my face, the waves in my hair…all strangely not quite the same as before. It’s a bit like time-lapse photography, revisiting a place after a while has passed, seeing it and myself in juxtaposition with the way we were in my memories. Even the feeling of mosquito bites that awaken me in the middle of the night reminds me of how things remained the same and have changed in an unmeasurable way.
Perhaps most of it is me that has changed: my goals, what I long for at home, my feelings about this place – from one of discovery to one of nostalgia.
It’s actually quite chilly here at night…I had to put on a sweater to go outside! What a concept. It rains several times a day here these days. It reminds me of the relief I felt over the summer whenever rain fell from the sky. And yet it’s all so plentiful now. Another thing that is the same yet different I suppose.
Time is a funny thing. It changes so much. Just time alone. The big talk of the office is that there’s now a single traffic light on our street. The first and only one in Meulaboh. It’s shocking to see the traffic actually obey something. That particular intersection was previously policed by 4-5 men and women but mostly operated under the rules of first come first serve/who can honk the loudest and most persistently.
It’s funny to imagine I was just walking around the Magic Kingdom 5 days ago. It’s amazing how we traverse time and space these days.
I think I can learn a lot this time around about how to get things done. It’s a bit overwhelming since there’s about 6-7 people in the office alone who is working on this project and several other projects at the same time. So many people to coordinate with. I’m still unsure who is ‘my boss.’ It appears that it might be this new officer, Dr. Rizal. He seems very organized and experienced. He’s also very polite, almost to a point that makes me uncomfortable. I hope I can learn a lot from him. I think I will make that one of my goals. The meetings are going to involve several more people than I expected, which will make it much harder to predict how they will go. It’s a different feeling than anything I’ve tried to accomplish before. It’s a bit like trying to stay on the back of a bucking bronco…so many times you just want to give up and fall onto the hay, but you just have to keep pulling yourself onto the saddle despite feeling like you never quite get on it before falling off again. I’m hoping things will settle a little bit after this first week once the major introductory meetings have taken place. I’m just trying to give a good first impression – be humble but not seem too disorganized so that I earn some respect.
It’s hard to predict what will happen in the next two weeks. The only thing I foresee is that it will be a lot. Nothing will be routine this time around. I’m hoping I can take a minibreak to the city for a couple of days, but it will have to depend on what God wills.
I will write again soon,
Love, Bev
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