Idul Fitri

Waktre came back shortly after. Said something I didn’t understand, and invited me to celebrate Idul Fitri with him next morning, we will leave at 8.

So this morning I wake up, I cannot sleep over 6 a.m. (a bloody curse!), I read (junk! I need books, damn!). He wakes up, goes grab an iron board and iron, and carefully irons a shirt (which is very romantic, except that then he wears another one..), takes a shower. And off we go, on his yellow motorbike. But he is not Muslim… he is Hindu, he is from Bali..

In fact, we arrive at his girlfriend’s home, in a small kampung (neighborhood in this case) on top of one of the hills surrounding TK (a bit like Roma). I am wearing jeans, Nic’s “Gone Dutch” black t-shirt, and sandals, again feel very inappropriate, when the streets keep narrowing and more and more people are around I feel I shouldn’t be there..
We enter the crowded house and I am welcomed warmly, I shake hands, I am taken to her father, a dignified elegant man sitting and receiving the greetings of everybody. I am offered a seat, of course I am told to eat, special sweet foods prepared for the occasion. And more and more people keep coming and greeting. Handshakes are complicated, as I wrote before. Here, the hand can have many degrees of firmness, how much you clasp of it also varies. You can use both your hands, or use the left to support right. You can then bring one or both up to your heart, two sides of chest, forehead. You can bow a little. Kids take your hand and bring it slowly to their forehead, bowing. An important component of this celebration is asking forgiveness “from the bottom of your heart” to your family and friends, for sins and wrongs. So, you kneel to elders, bring their hand to your forehead, murmur your repentance, and receive their blessing, more or less articulated. It is a touching moment (for example, when Waktre received that of his girlfriend’s father).

So, after a little while that I was sitting (and standing up at each new arrival), Waktre’s girlfriend (I know, I am bad, I don’t know her name! I didn’t dare ask again.. so much I have to learn, still..) says something like “Shall we?”. Meaning that it’s our turn to go around! And we do it, and I am sooo happy because it is great! We visit all of the houses of the neighborhood, take shoes on and off about 40 times. We enter, we greet, we smile, my presence is explained, I am welcomed everywhere, often we cannot refuse to sit down and accept snacks and the special anti-puasa drink. I think the first five homes I was just hovering in a cloud of happiness, without thinking much, probably with a stupid smile constantly on my face. Then, while still enjoying the experience deeply, I started perceiving more subtle patterns, different behaviors: in some cases the greeting and relationships are formally perfect, but you see a lack of warmth, in other cases it is really from the heart, for some it is more like a party, for others the religious component is more prevalent. In some houses we stay longer. I smile when I think of Robin Fox, conversations on kinship, there seem to be so many layers of “brotherhood”, and of course I don’t dare to ask details, draw charts (would love to! When I have more confidence and mastery of the language..).. and to think that this system is probably fairly simple..
Small babies are afraid of me, fathers joke with them, bringing them close, they cry and hit them mildly. Older kids receive small amounts of money in some cases. Two great episodes:

1. A two-year-old girl, holding (and frequently letting go) a banknote. She was then presented with that banknote (picked up for the n-th time) and a cassava chip. And of course she chose the chip. And then they switched the banknote for a jambu, a bright red fruit. And she picked that! Excellent.
2. A 6-year-old girl, flowery dress, long messy curly hair, huge pretty eyes lost somewhere, ignoring her two younger brothers gobbling up food. When a woman comes and gives a banknote to each of the brother, and then offers one to her, she brings her eyes on her and lightly, absently, says “No, thanks, I already have one”. Most people smiled or laughed, my heart was exploding, stadium chants and screams came to my lips..
   

After a couple of hours we head back home, where I am offered more snacks. And I greet new people. Then, we are called to lunch! Rice portions cooked in small wicker baskets, rendang (my favorite meat), a vegetable curry-like soup, Javanese traditional chicken. Then back to the living room. More people coming. Passion fruit juice. Fermented rice, delicious: white and red glutinous rice, left alone with yeast for two nights, throws out water, and becomes a sour/sweet (quite sweet) dessert. If you keep fermenting the water, it becomes arak, a liquor (at that, I didn’t know how to react.. Waktre can drink alcohol, so I could say “Hmm, interesting, would love to try”, but the others are not, so I wondered with a smile if I should say “Hmm, what a shame”. In doubt, I chose a completely neutral face and “Oh”..)

A conversation with Daus

I am out of the forest again, in TK, and it is the last day of fasting, tomorrow is Idul Fitri, two days of celebration of the end of Ramadan. Most people have left the station, as there are about 10 days of holiday more or less everywhere, and also here at the WCS office I only find Waktre and Daus. Waktre runs out, and for the first time I get to talk a while with Daus, the tallest Indonesian I know, quiet and friendly. He went to the mosque 5 times in two hours. Then we went out for dinner, and he explained me things about religion and this celebration. It was a strange contrast, walking with him, so calm and self-possessed, while all around us people were going insane, trucks full of people screaming and banging on huge drums (but huge, some 3m in diameter), swimming among thousands of motorbikes, mosque loudspeakers projecting piercing yells of chanting children. And all this with no alcohol... Impressive.

After dinner the conversation became more personal, if we had a family. He said he would have one next years, perhaps. With some hesitation I asked if he has a girlfriend, and with a half smile he admitted that that was part of the problem.. and from here the escalation, his difficult situation: He is tall and attractive, well dressed, speaks good English, has finished a Masters on the impact of fig trees on bird biodiversity in Way Canguk, works for WCS. But he is already 25, a time, as he delicately put it, when an Indonesian man is supposed to have a family already. HA, what will each of you think? (I just mumbled something, remembering Kenya and the “Don’t worry, God will help you” after the question “How many kids do you have?”…). And working in the forest is not very conducive to meeting girls. So I tease him, tonight is perfect, we should go to a club.. But then the next problem, he comes from a very observant Muslim family, who would only accept “a good Muslim” girl. Which of course you wouldn’t find in the middle of crazy celebrations. So I ask where would she be now? In a mosque, praying. But of course there is a panel separating men from women. Hmm, so where? University, yes, that sounds perfect! The Muslim Student Union.
We cannot find an anggkot (small taxi-like bus) back, we walk. So how does that work? You see a girl that seems interesting, and? You talk to her? No, you talk to your teacher (for what I understand, a mix of academic advisor and religious counselor). Who talks to her teacher. Who talks to her, and possibly arranges a meeting. Which lasts one hour, perhaps two, through the separating divider. And during which the two discuss, intensely and seriously, about the future, plan everything out, make decisions! And if it works out, then it is done. They commit (imagine my face while I hear, or write, this..). Well, of course the girl has to pass the exam of the man’s family. And the poor creatures are about 20 years old. This reminded me of a discussion on arranged marriages with my friend Amrisha. There are many good, valid, valuable things about such a system. But it is also precious to be able to know a person before deciding to share a whole life with her/him. And there are of course problems with our system. And with theirs. And I am too tired to do the next, synthesizing step, sketching the perfect way.. we know I could spend months on the subject..
We have left the loud main road, now all is quiet, more trees. Daus leaves me in the empty dark office, tomorrow he will drive 5 hours to celebrate with his family (I was already picturing Muslim Student Union parties at the beach for him, but no..). Hmm..

Few simple things you (perhaps) never dared to ask about Ramadan

Which I think I have gathered from my conversations with people. Perhaps it is fascinating that they might be wrong, eheh. Most of the religious words come from Arabic, of course. And Ramadan is the name of a month. Months follow the lunar calendar. In Indonesia, bulan means both moon and month.

During Ramadan people fast (it is called “Puasa”), from about 4 a.m. to 6 p.m. They abstain from eating, drinking, having sexual or angry feelings. The still pray five times a day. They wake up around 3 a.m. to have a hearty meal. Of course, when you do physical labor, fasting is particularly demanding. Apparently, in that case people are allowed to break the fasting. But then you have to make it up some time before the following year. Same for pregnant or breastfeeding women. The assistants in the forest are impressive, they keep running after the siamangs, seemingly not affected by it. I tried, loosely, and while it is fine until around 2 p.m., after that you really have to struggle a bit. And strangely enough, eheh, you even have to work on the mood aspect, you get quite nervous!

But then, of course, it is great to break the fasting (buka puasa). A special drink is prepared, very rich and sweet, every day slightly different, made of bananas, cassava, coconut milk and pulp, and many other things I don’t know. People gather in the common area and start inquiring about the time, one of the leaders would check and communicate. They all hold one glass of the special drink and one of water. And the attitude, composure of the drinking is special, intense. Rahman doesn’t sit, stands looking at the river, takes the first sip of water, rolls it around the mouth and spits it quietly. Then, slowly, the chatting and laughing starts.

Bats

Way Canguk is a hotspot for bats, an ongoing research is establishing. There are many species, different sizes and shapes, funny scary little faces, helpless noises when trapped in the white cloth bags, the familiar ammonia smell, crazy twirls around the common area to catch insects around the light. But the best image is when you walk along a trail at dusk, and you see these quick dark shapes running along the open paths, avoiding you at the last second, in complete, unreal silence.