That time of the year again

Adisucipto Airport, Yogyakarta - As we go into D-minus countdown to this year's Idul Fitri holidays, once again the transportation networks and hubs of Indonesia, much like the arteries, veins and heart of an extremely unhealthy man bordering on a fatal cardiac seizure, are once again put to severe test as the masses begin to make that, for some, once a year journey back home. For this Singaporean who is fast starting to look and speak (if not already, ha!) like a local, I made myself no exception and joined in the madness to return home for the holidays.

How time flies, it has been almost 3 months since I last saw home, and yet it only just seem like yesterday I was packing to embark on my KKN trip, but yet seem to feel like forever. The whole relativity of time never ceases to amaze me as I reflect on the happenings of (gasp!) the past year. Hey, it IS the coming of the new year right, according to the Islamic calender... But anyway yes, so I was just looking back at the events that had happened since September last year, and I can happily conclude that it has indeed been an excellent year, filled with happiness, new experiences, and perhaps, just perhaps, an entirely new outlook on life.

All good things must come to an end?

Rowo, Petungkriyono - This would probably be the final post (for now) from deep within the mountains as the pull-out date is a little under 48 hours. As I reflect upon the activities and all the programs carried out over the last 7 weeks and type up the summary report, I am acutely reminded of something a senior officer always used to say during course closing ceremonies "Well, I'm sure you all had a good time, but as all good things must come to an end, so must this...". Indeed it has been a good time, and also an extremely enlightening journey of self-discovery in my time here. And as the time to leave draws nearer, there is a certain amount of sadness. Would I be back again? In the past week I had been seriously contemplating on the possibilities of carrying our research work here in future. Perhaps... Perhaps... Perhaps.

That familiar feeling... of being displaced

Kodya, Yogyakarta - With the whirlwind of places to go, people to see, things to hand in, I haven't had the time to write down my thoughts of coming back to Jogja after being in Petungkriyono for some 4 plus weeks or so. Some have asked is it over? I'm at a loss to say "sadly no" or "happily no". After having lived amongst friends and the family that I am lodged with for the past month, deep in a mountainous region, the sensation of coming back to a city is very odd indeed. A sensation that is akin to non-belonging. Of being displaced, once again. On the descent, already I could feel the body struggling to adapt to the hot and humid weather in the lower altitudes, sweating copious amounts. Once back in the room, even the soft bed felt alien and mildly uncomfortable after having made the bench my personal space to rest my tired body each night. And perhaps most importantly, its quite an acute sense of loneliness here. Most of my friends are either on the Social Action Internship Program somewhere, or back in their hometowns for the holidays. After being constantly surrounded by my sub-unit teammates and also the family members that I am lodged with, being alone again in my room was, though something usual in the past, was now quite a foreign feeling. I know now why B had said he missed the place and thought of going back the whole time he was on leave rotation. Perhaps there is a certain allure to living up there, insulated from the outside world. A natural paradise (though certainly not to everyone) buried away deep in the mountains.

A fishy tale

Rowo, Petungkriyono - I had to turn down a very generous serving of fish (which was rare, with the norm being a largely non-meat diet. I avoid using the word vegetarian as some might argue consumption of eggs would disqualify one as vegetarian) at the dinner table yesterday night, not because of how it was cooked, nor was it because of what sort of fish it was, but rather the tale of its tail-end (lame joke!) of its life.

And so it was on that fateful morning that we were involved in an medical emergency, not involving a human, but of a particularly large fish that was kept in the pond at the back of the house. Near-dead, we had attempted to resuscitate it with a variety of means, some of which bordered a little on ludicrous. By now you can probably guess that our efforts couldn't bring the dead back to life. And so it came to dinner time, when our host nonchalantly said that the fish on the plate was the same one from the morning. *gulp*. Somehow after seeing it alive (or was it already dead...) and trying to save it, then subsequently eating it is... well, something I could not stomach. It sounds a little silly, but that's just me. Heh.

A belated thank you 'Cher!

Rowo, Petungkriyono - To all the teachers who have imparted me their wisdom and knowledge over the years, here's a belated thank you to all of you, for over the course of the past week, I have come to experience first hand, just how difficult it is to teach and motivate kids. I had originally intended to write this on the eve of Teacher's Day, but decided that I had better do it before I forget the essence of it. Thus, it is a month early.

It is not all complaints though, for the satisfaction in seeing their interest piqued and subsequently actively participating... it makes all the effort worth it. Language is something that is definitely not easy to teach, especially so when the language that is being taught is not their native language, not their second language, but actually in effect their forth (!) language (Javanese Kromo, Javanese Ngoko, Bahasa Indonesia, then finally English). Hopefully with the few short sessions I have spent with them, I have managed to build up a view that learning language is not a dreary activity of just writing alien words and memorising them, but it can take the form of fun games as well.

The fire never dies

Rowo, Petungkriyono - Semi-squatting on a stool in the semi-darkness of the kitchen lit only by a dust covered fluorescent tube and the flames from the wood stove, it seems that the fire here is kept perpetually alive, providing warmth, and more importantly, keeping a fresh supply of water boiling, and providing the necessary heat to cook the simple but eca cooking by Bu Bahu.

In a flash, it has already been 2 weeks since arriving in Rowo to carry out the Social Action Internship Program, if not for the fact that as sub-unit treasurer I had to keep track of dates to make payment for the living expenditure every fortnightly, I probably would not have bothered to count, nor realise how fast time is flying by. I guess having the days filled with activities (from construction of the simple prototype biogas unit, to having a hand at being a farmer, to being teacher to a whole gaggle of kids) certainly helps in the acceleration of the time spent here.

Life here has also somewhat adapted to the local rhythm of things. Waking up in the mornings to the chorus of crowing, birds chirping, etc, having breakfast together, then splitting up to run our various programs. Construction of the biogas unit has finally reached its apex, with all the physical components completed and now in place, all that is left is to start the process of mixing the cow dung and pouring it into the digester unit and wait 14-21 days to see if all the time, effort, and while not particularly large but is still money spent is worth it after all.

For the sake of our kind sponsors and donors, and also the people here in Rowo, I hope that it is a success.

Initial-P

Rowo, Petungkriyono - Twisting and turning through the mountain passes, I finally arrived at Rowo slightly over a week ago. It is hard to imagine that the number of days that had passed could still be counted with fingers from both hands, it seemed much longer than that.

While still essentially a traditional Javanese village situated high up in the mountains south of Pekalongan, technology had clearly made some in-road into even an area considered remote and isolated. Modern day things like television and to a certain extent mobile cellular coverage exist here. Electricity for Rowo is supplied through two main means, one of which is the national electricity grid (PLN), which has managed to lay power lines to at least this portion of Petungkriyono, and the other being clean-green energy from micro hydro-electric generators that were cobbled together from, I kid you not, scrap motorcycle parts. The village head (Kepala Dusun, or as they call them here, Pak Bahu) whom I am lodged with is exceedingly cordial and warm in hosting the gaggle of university students (i.e Us!) for two months.

Despite the unreliable electricity (Pak Bahu's house along with 8 others are wired up from the micro-hydroelectric generators - thus at the mercy of the flow of water in the river and also strong winds which affect the wires), ice-cold water to bathe in, sleeping on a bench and snuggled in a sleeping bag every night, it is here that perhaps I have truly experienced first hand what is called the "simple pleasures in life". It doesn't matter that the food at the table is the same at almost every meal, the freshness of the vegetables, and not to mention one of the tastiest sambal I've ever sampled, makes certain my stomach is never too far from hunger. Teaching and playing with the local children in the spare time outside of the physical infrastructure improvement programs remind me of something that had been long forgotten, what it was like to truly "just play". It has also made me realise how my viewpoints towards children have changed over the years, and perhaps more so, how it has changed recently.

That is all the time I have at the moment for an online update, so with this, I bid all readers sugeng sonten and hope I can post another one soon.