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..