Ola/Ole and Putu

This is a picture of two of my friends and a fun Indonesian food called Putu. At night you hear carts with horns, whistles, or music to signal the Putu Man is on your street. It's just like our ice cream men, only sometimes they also bring dinner foods like sate. Putu is more a dessert and made from coconut.

Ola and Ole are staying with me while my host family is in Bali. Today we went to the beach to go surfing with their friend, Yudi, who is a Padang surfer. Then we all (there were about 10 of us) went to a river to swim and eat dinner (and thankfully there was a family on the river with a small shop and outdoor seating and they had cappaccino - I was in heaven!).

Will write more soon.

Traditional West Sumatran Home

This photo was taken on the way back from Air Manis. This area is outside the city of Padang so this is not what the houses look like in the city.

Pantai Air Manis for Surfing and to Witness Local Minangkabau Legend

On Sunday, I went with my translator, Redian, and his sister to Air Manis Beach. I brought my new surf board to test it out without the pressure of my "surf gang" in Padang since I haven't been on a board in a year.

Redian has never swam in the ocean before which was a bit frightening as a swell came in and the waves were pretty big for a newby. Luckily the water is very shallow there and so he could stand everywhere we went. I tried to teach him to paddle but after a few minutes he seemed quite content using my goggles and going through the waves.

I caught a few waves because thunder and ligthning came and the board is perfect for me! It felt so great to paddle again (my arms just might be ready for all the weddings in August). I am probably going to bring the board back to the states with me, even though it's second hand, it was a good price and we work well together, lol.

The coolest part about Pantai Air Manis is the local myth about rocks on the beach. See story below that I found online, although like any true myth orally passed down, I have heard a few different versions of it:

"Malin Kundang is a famous Minangkabau and Malay folklore and the legendary story is said to be originated here in Padang where the remains of "Batu Malin Kundang" is located.

This folkfore is about a man named Malin Kundang who hails from a poor family. Just like any other Minang men, Malin Kundang decided to travel elsewhere to seek good fortune, leaving behind his old mother. His life changed when he married the daughter of a rich man in Siam. Soon after achieving success and gaining great fortune he sailed back homeward on his own ship to Padang together with his wife and crews.

Upon hearing of Malin Kundang's return, his mother rushed to the beach to meet her long lost son. Unfortunately, Malin Kundang felt ashamed upon looking at his old and poor mother - he was a rich man with fine clothing and a beautiful wife while his mother was looking ragged and poor as she was. In his undisguised disgust he ignored his mother, refused to greet her and returned to his ship.

Humiliated and heartbroken by her arrogant son's behavior, his mother fell to her knees in desperation and prayed to God asking that her son be punished for what he did. Soon a terrible storm rose up and Malin Kundang's ship was wrecked upon the rocks. Realising his mistake and sin for ignoring his mother, the badly injured Malin Kundang tried to get ashore to seek forgiveness from his mother but as he crawled on his hands and knees he was suddenly turned into stone.

Until today, a stone that from a certain angle resembles the figure of a man on his hands and knees with his head seemingly buried in the rock can still be found here in Pantai Air Manis. It is said that Malin Kundang has been forced to stay on the beach forever, begging for forgiveness from his mother. Around this rocky figure barrels and ropes have been carved into the stone to represent the shipwreck washed up on the shore.

The tale of an ungratefull son makes the tranquil Pantai Air Manis a legendary location to visit that may offer some lesson in life".

Monday was spent in the office in the morning playing with Sandrina, the four year old who scolded me about my poor grammar, because the power was out. Then Redian and I went and conducted two interviews and set up a few more for the remainder of the week. Research is moving along nicely and as long as the power stays on this evening my Mercy Corps work will as well.

Picture of My Indonesian Bapak dan Bu in the house cleaning rice for the month

Reunion with an Old Friend

Last night I felt as though I was reunited with an old friend: the Southern Cross. For those that don't know the Southern Cross is a constellation that can only be seen near the southern hemisphere. It is the national symbol of Australia and on their (and numerous other countries in Asia-Pacific) flag and is also tattooed on my left foot. While in Australia I would look for the Southern Cross everyday even if it meant going way out of my way to get to a dark location or to be patient and wait for clouds to pass. It was the one constant thing I had for three months while there. I was hoping you could see it from Indonesia and thought I saw it the other night but couldn't be sure because it wasn't bright enough. Last night though I confirmed that you can in fact see this constellation here.

As I walked home from the office, while listening to the evening call to prayer, I could clearly see four of the five stars in the cross AND two stars that lead up to it (which are also tattooed on my ankle). Yay - reunion! I did noticed that it is in the position of what is on my foot, and not the way I saw it in Australia (sideways). I think that's because of the time of year. In Australia it was February to the first week of May so the constellations were in different positions then I guess. That or being a bit more south makes a difference. These are the times I wish I took astronomy.

After I saw it while walking home I rushed inside, ran up the stairs after a quick hello to the family, and went to the upstairs balcony near the water tower to look more closely at my friend. Then I ran downstairs, grabbed Meertri, and ran back upstairs to point it out to her. She was excited I think because I was being goofy but didn't actually care about the stars. I asked her if Indonesians name the stars and she said no. I asked if the Minang language has any words for constellations and she said no, which explains why she thought it was weird that I was pointing it out to her.

Quite honestly I found it hard to believe that Indonesians don't name the stars. I thought every culture does that. So I googled it and found out that Indonesian's refer to it as "the stingray". However, I just asked Bu Endang and she thought it was funny that we name the stars and that each constellation has its own story. She said they do have a name for a really clear night, bright stars, big moon and that's "Bulan Purnama" which means a "god blessed sky/moon". I find this intriguing. If I was doing social science just for the sake of curiosity and not to address an environmental issue I think I would change my project right now to find out why in West Sumatra (at least, maybe all over Indonesia) the stars are not named and don't have stories.

This does explain it though why when asked what my tattoo is and I tell people, they look confused. So at least that mystery has been solved.

This evening from 3:00 to midnight we will be in the field, District Pesisir Selatan, for a community meeting about what they are going to build for disaster mitigation infrastructure. This morning I meet with the head of the Oceans and Fisheries Department for a research interview and he said I should visit a mangrove area there that is made of natural mangroves, as well as restored mangroves by the local community. Bu Endang agreed that we can go there first so now I am extra excited for our field visit.

I will report back soon. Selamat siang (Good afternoon)!

Excerpts from My Field Notes

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Field Notes – First Day Out and About in Padang, Flying Solo

Today I was determined to “do the tourist thing” in Padang and I finally accomplished that for the most part. I went with Meertri on the “Blue Opelet” or “Opelet Biru”, which is the public transportation from the house to Plaza Andalas, which is the stop closest to the beach. I have started to get used to the stares and the “hello misters” “how are you?” “what’s your name” “where are you from?” But walking to the intersection to pick up the blue opelet I realized that Meertri hasn’t experienced that with me since we don’t usually walk around together. She said, “everyone is going to be looking at you in the opelet”. Which thankfully didn’t happen this time.

In regards to Meetri not walking around with me much: As Meertri told me last week, “Indonesians don’t really like to walk.” The shortest distances seem to be torturous for her to walk, especially when it’s hot. This morning she had a hard time understanding why I wanted to just cruise around Padang by foot. I would ask how far the distance was from place x to place y and she would say oh that’s far! Probably a 5 to 7 minute walk! Popo, a coworker, confirmed this for me this afternoon when I mentioned that I wanted to walk to the “westerners” hotel for a veggie cheese burger (which is really tempeh on french bread with non-American cheese, paprika, onion, pepper, and tomatoes).

After we got off the Blue Opelet near Plaza Andalas for 2,000 Rupiah we walked to the toko buku (bookstore) to try to find a map of Padang for me and postcards. I had the strongest want this morning to just sit on the beach, have an orange fanta (and not the sugar water Indonesians drink; I wonder what the rate of diabetes is here), sun tan a bit (or as best I could with still wearing my long sleeve shirt and skirt), listen to my mp3 player and write postcards to friends and family. That’s all I wanted to do today. Well we couldn’t find postcards at the bookstore and the map they had was more a wall map, not a walk around town map. I didn’t buy it.

I find that as with Redian, my translator for research interviews, I have to repeat myself often with Meetri. She understands what I say but still needs me to repeat myself. Long explanations for things don’t work here I realized. They are a no excuses kind of people I think. For instance, yesterday I was invited to go to a family gathering but I wasn’t feeling up to it and wanted to translate a document the chair of Commission III gave me on Thursday. At first I said yes and then a few minutes later I realized that I really didn’t want to go. So I went to Meertri and said, “Is it alright if I don’t go actually? I want to translate this document so I don’t have to do it on Sunday.”

Her reply, “you don’t want to go?”
Me: “I want to go, but I think I should stay here and translate the document”. M: “you don’t want to go?”
Me: (defeated): No, I don’t want to go. I need to stay home to work.
M: Ok, “no problem”

Then downstairs in front of “mommy”: “Kasey, why don’t you want to go to the family gathering?”.
Me: “because I should stay home and translate this (holding up the book)”.
M: “OK” (doesn’t translate that to mom I’m pretty sure).

They leave. Exhausting!!!

So anyway. Back at the bookstore. After I decide I don’t want to buy the map, Meertri asks the clerk if they have postcards and she uses the word “postcards” in English. When we depart I tried a store next to the bookstore, I think a photo shop, thinking they might have postcards. I go in and say, “Punya postcards?” (do you have postcards?) They had no idea what I was talking about. Why does it work when Meertri says English to an Indonesian, but for me I am met with blank stares? I think when people expect you to only speak English, they don’t hear the Indonesian even when you try. Because I have spoken Indonesian, granted very elementary Indonesian, and sometimes I get the blank stare. It’s like they are trying to figure out what English words you just said, but you are speaking Indonesian.

I gave up and went straight to the beach. I had it in my head I was going to walk around to the shops but gave up right away.

Instead I walked to the beach, determined to get to the surfing area that Meetri told me about. As I walked past all the fishermen, most of them wanted my attention. Not for their fish but more for their English. Again the “hello”, “How are you?” etc etc. Some of them yelled which I found irritating. I am pretty sure they don’t yell to women in their own culture so why is it appropriate to yell at a white woman? Honestly, that bothered me. The ones that weren’t too aggressive with their yelling were the ones I would actually smile at and say something IN INDONESIAN to. One very nice fishermen spoke to me for a few mintues in his broken English and my terrible Indonesian. The convo basically went like this: “Did you catch those this morning”, “Yeah, pagi pagi”. “where are you from?” “America, New York, staying here for two months”. “oh where are you staying?” (for some reason even here I feel like a five year old when asked that question because I am automatically thrown back into kindergarten when you are told, never tell a stranger where you live. To this day I never know how to answer that question even to an adult AS an adult, haha). “you fishing tonight too?” “malam-malam”. “Want a fish?” “oh, no thank you, just looking”. “have a good day”

I walked farther still and finally got to the end, the sea wall. Felt like an obstacle course and I reached the end where my reward was solitude for a whole forty minutes. I actually managed to sit and stare at the Indian Ocean for a whole forty minutes while sitting on the sea wall with a fishermen to my left and a couple cuddling close to the waves to my right. I sat there and took pictures of all the trash that floated by and the crabs that lived on the man-placed stones. The water smelled like low tide even though I am pretty sure it was mid-tide or high tide. There was green algae all over the rocks. My dream of swimming in the Indian Ocean temporarily squashed while I saw what I would be swimming in.

After that I went to the other side of the sea wall and watched two surfers make their way out to the waves and two recreational trawler fishermen, each with there own net, try to catch fish in their nets by the mouth of the river. The same river folks are washing their clothes in and most likely defecating in. I didn’t see them catch anything but I took videos and photos.

Next I decided I was really thirsty and so went towards the umbrellas and picnic tables. I was distracted by all the trash and tried to capture it with my camera. I don’t think I was able to truly capture how disgusting the beach is. A lot of children (about ten, four girls and about 6 boys) started calling to me, asking my name mostly. I told them and they said it over and over and laughed. Then they followed really close. I thought that maybe if I ignored them they would go away. Instead they got closer. So I asked them there names. Lucy was one and the others I don’t remember. Saw a Sunkist so went and paid enam ribu ($6,000 RP) and sat at a table. Took out my headphones, my postcards from Jakarta, and pen and began to write. Within seconds my followers were right behind, basically breathing on my neck. I looked up and smiled in a polite, “Your cute, now go away” kind of smile. They no longer tried to speak English with me, instead just stood there. Then slowly moved there way to sit at the chairs next to me also under my umbrella. I tried to write a postcard to my parents and brother but they just kept watching me. I was honestly very perturbed at this point but thought, “they’ll get bored soon and walk away”. Nope. Actually, to make matters worse a bunch of teenage boys came up, asked if they could sit down, and “talk to you for a while”. I said sure. They asked me tons of questions. Said I was the first westerner they ever meet. They are not from Padang but from Solot, a place to the east of Padang. They asked to take photos with me in which I took two with each of the boys a piece, then a group shot, then individual of me standing up with them.
When I thought my westerner duty was done, they started asking more questions of me. Then a group of girls who were traveling with them came up and we took another group shot. Then more questions. Finally they left. I started writing again peacefully when the beach flute player came up and interrupted me (who is definitely the worst flute player I have ever heard, in fact I don’t think he actually plays, just blows in the instrument, moves his fingers, and expects money). A long time ago I decided I would always give money to flute buskers and so I gave him some coins. Not worth much but enough that he left. I then tried to go back to my postcards and music, when the peanut man came and I said no, terima kasih, he of coursed stayed a few more seconds hoping I would get bored and buy some. I held my ground and he left. A little while later, a woman with peanuts came and again the same thing. She stayed longer though just staring at me. I kept saying no. Finally she left. Then I went back to my postcards. Few seconds later my teenage paparazzi were back, asking for more photos of me standing since the others didn’t come out as they hoped. I also noticed they had sunglasses this time (I think to match mine).

They then sat down and said they wanted to talk to me more for a long time. I smiled politely and said “about what?”, hoping to discourage them. That didn’t work. They said anything, they want to practice their English. “Why me??” I kept screaming in my head at this point. I obliged and we chatted for a few more minutes. I got up the nerve to ask them about why there is litter all over the beach. They said, “hmm, oh probably because the government doesn’t clean it up.” I nodded. They asked if it was the same in America. I said it used to be that way in the 1980’s but not anymore. I said we have frequent beach cleanups where the community members/citizens pick up the litter. I don’t think they understood what I said but interesting nonetheless that they felt it was the fault of the government that there was litter.

More pointless chatter, then I was saved by Popo from work. He waved hello from across the picnic tables and I greeted him with a huge smile. We spoke for a few minutes, I said, “oh I am just sitting here, making new friends, chatting, writing postcards…” He introdued me to his friend, “Guril” who is like the surfing Bodisafa of Padang. He actually kind of looks like a cross between my Australian friend Nathan and Suni Garcia (Pro Surfer from Hawaii). Popo said do you want to go for a walk? I said yeah that would be fun. The boys from Solat seemed offended and sad but I was so happy to be with a friend. They said, “we are sorry, we made mistake”. I said “what mistake?” they just repeated themselves. I said “no, no mistake. Tidak apa apa (no worries in Indonesian). You want to go for a walk?” They just left with a nice to meet you, “I am so happy now after I meet you” and that sort of thing. I don’t know why it’s so exciting to speak with a westerner. I am boring for one and it’s not like I am a celebrity. I didn’t even know their favorite American band they told me about so how cool could I be?

Anyway, I went back to the seawall with Popo and Guril and we watched the surfers and talked. Guril organizes trips out to the Mentawai for people, shapes boards, sells boards for a living (no job he told me, although that seems like a job to me). He drinks. Has partied with Jack Johnson, Kelly Slater, and others on the Mentawai. We talked surf, about Bethany, the teenage surfer who had her arm bitten off by a shark, and a 14 year old Padang Grommett chick who was surfing as we watched. She’s competed in a big Grommet competition (Quicksilver maybe). Guril kept asking about how many surfers I knew and so I told him a lot but most can’t come to Indonesia. I said Hector, my friend from Surfrider CT, most likely would so I can put the two of them in touch. He remembered his name a few minutes later so I think he must be good at networking. Probably how he makes business. Guril told me that one year ago the city of Padang put up this “fucking seawall”. Their break used to be just north of the wall but now is south and not as good. Boy, they were pissed. Popo had mentioned it earlier but I didn’t get what he said because he phrased it as “the seawall is in the middle” or something like that. I asked if people complained about the wall and he shrugged (guril) and said no. There would be no point. The government doesn’t listen. They didn’t even ask the community before constructing it. No public consultation. Just put it up. Popo said in America the government goes to the community and asks what they want. I corrected him and went through the process of the developers wanting to do something, how its required by law to have public input, but that they could still just go ahead with developer plan. Guril said something about America being the light of freedom. I also asked them about litter in the Mentawai, if there was any. They said no but had a look on their face as though they were slightly offended I brought it up. I saved myself by saying Fiji had trash all over the place so I was just wondering.

We started to leave to go back to Guril’s house to get Popo’s bike so that he and I could go tot eh westerners hotel for dinner and a beer (which turned into a latte because I was too chicken to get a beer in front of a moslim, didn’t want to drink alone and dind’t want to ask the question that could turn akward, “do you drink?”). Guril made a joke about “his gang” and how I was now in it (Mom, don’t worry, he was seriously kidding). I said something about us getting tattoos and that was immediately rejected from another friend (Henry maybe) because moslim’s don’t get tattoos. Guril said the beach place where I got the Sunkist from was his gang place and showed me a Malibu surfboard that was too short for me. He said he has a larger one that is 7’0 and $200. I think I will buy it from him. Then popo and I went via motorbike to the other gang place, haha. I sat on a bench and waited for Popo to pray, watched a pregnant cat wait patiently half in and half out of the house hoping for someone to give it food, and then we were off to the hotel. Cats and dogs aren’t really kept as pets here because they are considered unclean, so instead they wander around half starved.

The hotel was fun. It’s on the river where there are lots of boats. Popo’s friend has a charter boat and is currently out with oceanographers from Jakarta doing a research cruise between the Mentawai Islands and Neis (the island where the earthquake struck causing the 2004 tsunami). We ate listening to the entire Dido CD over the soundsystem. As we were leaving I found some old Padang postcards in the lobby and bought a bunch. The only postcards I have found and they are black and white and from the 40’s probably.

Well that was my Sunday.

Oh quick note about last Thursday. I was in my first Earthquake! It was tiny but lasted a few minutes. The only way we could really tell it was an Earthquake was because the water was shaking in all the glasses at the training workshop I was at with Mercy Corps. It was pointed out to me and then everyone went about their business since compared to the earthquakes West Sumatra usually gets that was nothing for them. I, on the other hand, just sat there attempting to feel every second of it. Kinda cool.

Miserable!

What a weekend! I can honestly say that for the last three days I have been absolutely miserable. I thought with all the vaccinations and pills Yale and my mom have pumped me with that I would be immune to just about everything, but apparently not the flu. My boss, Bu Endang and her family, had the flu and since I have spent so much time with them I got it too. On Friday my throat started getting scratchy and then on Saturday I had a full on fever. To top it off my legs are completely covered in mosquito bites. I am pretty sure if anyone from the Indonesian Health Department saw me they would deport me. Mom, my legs are even more covered in bites than when I came back from Australia and the pedicurist thought I had a disease. I have been putting on an ungodly amount of mosquito repellent (with DEET!) and have basically been poisoning myself to no avail. AND (if you can believe there is another thing) I burnt my leg on a motorcycle last week when I was picked up by a friend to go to the NGO Paku. It’s a huge welt that will definitely scar (although I am using Placental extract to hopefully avoid that, yuck!) and that really stings when you accidentally get repellent into it. Last night I finally resorted to gassing my room before going to sleep. Good thing I don’t want to have children, LOL.

I am baik (fine) so please don’t anybody freak it’s just been a hard weekend. I didn’t go to Bukatinggi because the family was sick which at the time I was really disappointed because I finally was going to be able to do the tourist thing, but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise because I just would have been sick anyway AND wouldn’t have been able to work on the journal article my RRAD friends and I are working on for the Environmental Hazards Journal due soon. Although doing that with a fever was a joy, let me tell you. No amount of concerta can help a person concentrate while you are scratching your legs, holding your head in your hands, and practically falling asleep from taking Benadryl.

Ok enough complaining. One enjoyable thing happened on Saturday morning before the nightmare began. I went swimming at a fancy hotel with Meertri and Livia. So much fun! They are only just learning to swim so I got to play instructor for a bit and then become a big kid again. At first I couldn’t get them to do much because they were scared of most things so I pulled out the underwater camera. They have never taken photos of themselves underwater so they were so excited they quickly forgot their fear and would go under the water constantly! I taught them how to go under without getting water up their nose and how to stay down longer by blowing out some air. I tried to teach them how to float but that’s hard with people when they are the same size as you. I even taught them how to do an underwater tea party and showed them handstands and somersaults (Tara, I really missed you during all of this. I felt like I did when the two of us used to play in the pool). Then I started teaching them actual things like freestyle and helping Meetri improve her breast stroke. Afterwards we went to KFC for lunch (Indonesians LOVE KFC) and back home so I could start working on the journal article.

The photos are on Facebook. Still can’t upload to the blog site because the files are too large.

Well that’s my update. Have to get back to work now. At 10:00AM we are meeting with our local NGO partner on our Public-Private Partnerships Disaster Risk Reduction Project for West Sumatra. Their name is Kogami and we will be discussing a three day training we are starting tomorrow for the private sector.

Cheers!

Settled in Finally: May 30, 2009

My first night in what will be my new home for the next two months or so. It’s not an apartment or a rented house or a hotel room or a hostel. It’s my very own host keluarga (host family). I wanted to be able to walk to the office everyday and Bu Endang remembered that childhood friends of hers lived just two blocks away.

My mommy (she asked me to call her that, lol) is Bu Elley, my Poppy is Pak Salmantos (or Mam for short), my 21 year old sister is Meertri and an 11 year old sister Livia. The brother who I only just meet is Goethe (25) and the sister whose room I am staying in is Cynara. Cynara is 24 like me and likes to travel a lot. She did a student exchange in Canada before and right now is in Germany until June 18th. We will share a room when she gets back.

So far there aren’t many differences in living with a Moslim family than at home, except today Meetri asked me while we were watching TV if I drink. Of course I was honest but I wasn’t sure if I should have been. They are also very social and family oriented. I have meet most of the extended family I think already and they can all sit around for hours chatting and laughing.

Yesterday I felt as though I did two things that got me here: 1) going with Bu Endang’s flow – I usually let others take the lead when that’s the most convenient option for others and 2) being too polite. I did start worrying in the process if once again I was too polite and I should have just asked for a private apartment that I would take a taksi to the kantor and other places everyday, and to request air conditioning and the works. I was so worried about living with a family that I kind of lived it up in the hotel with room service, movies, cold cold air conditioning and not going out. Total me time. Now as I lay here after my first water tank bathing experiencing, first Indonesian family meal eating with hands, and first TV night with grandpa, Livia, and Meertri, I realize how foolish my fears were.

So far it is relatively not awkward since Meertri speaks English and after taking the bath my body temperature cooled down substantially. The non air conditioning is fine. My only concern is finances. I budgeted $800 per month for rent and this will be $150, so I need to figure out my budget again. I’m going to use the extra money to make my research even better but I am not sure if that means I should travel to more districts, although I am still under time constraints, or if maybe an interpreter for just about everyday, including Mercy Corps events, could be beneficial. Tomorrow evening after getting back from Risa’s NGO where she teaches English to poor fish kids I have to go to the office or lock myself in my room and make a 7 week plan for Mercy Corps and my research and stick with it.

My first week (satu minggu) has been very successful and busy getting settled, acclimated to Mercy Corps, and understanding the local system here, so now it is time to delve deep and devote 50% of my time to research.

Funny moment yesterday though: Bu Endang’s youngest daughter, Sandrina (4 years old), asked me if I know how to drive a car. I tried my best to answer in a long Indonesian sentence. Apparently I could have just replied with “bisa” (I can) so she scolded me and said “Please speak well!”. Then when we were entering her Aunt’s house she stopped at the door while taking off her shoes, looked at me, and directed me firmly by saying, “don’t speak like before”. Bu Endang, Risa, and I were cracking up. By the far the funniest moments in Indonesia to date.

May 29, 2009

My living arrangements for the next two months were decided today. I am going to live with a nice moslim (how it is spelled here) family whose house is near the office. Way out of my comfort zone so I am going to spend my last free night watching loud movies, eating American food from room service, freezing in my air conditioning since my room at the rumah (house) only has a fan and then work on the RRAD article outline for the Environmental Hazards Journal due in the morning. Then sleep, swim in the pool, and then move into my new house. I just have to keep reminding myself that I want to go way outside my comfort zone and to think like a researcher. Granted I am not studying culture here but this information will be useful when processing my data on climate change responses here.

May 28, 2009 Padang

I feel different somewhow. It always amazes me how my entire mood changes when super close to the ocean (“laut”). I noticed it even as we flew over Sumatra from Jakarta, but I feel it even stronger as I lay here in my swankey hotel room (only $50.00 a night but beautiful) right on the beach. I could tell I made the right choice saying no (I actually learned the word!) to Sean yesterday when he asked if I wanted to stay in Jakarta for two more weeks before coming to Padang, when within ten minutes of driving in the car with Bu Endang, my boss in Padang, and her daughter, Risa, we were discussing fishermen and climate change. Big change from urban issues and flood risk reduction. Risa even invited me to join her one day when she teaches English to poor fishermen’s children. Can’t wait!

And Bu Endang requrested I give the climate presentation to her staff and the staff of a local NGO, Kogami. Kasey, The Climate Project Presenter, goes international! I’ll be sure to tell Jenny Clad, the Executive Director. Not sure if they have had any presentation in Indonesia just yet.

When we drove into Padang they offered to treat me to dinner and so we went to a seafood restaurant where we ate rice, green veggies like spinach, and whole prawns BBQ in coconut sauce on a stick that all together was $15USD if you can believe it. Enak sekali (very delicious).

My first Indonesian meal with others. I’ve been all alone when not in the kantor (office) so it was so nice tonight. Just what I needed. We ended at the restaurant with 2 pictures being taken, one next to the live crab tank, yes crab not lobster, and the other on the deck where we ate overlooking the Indian Ocean.

I can tell I am going to have to be much more cognitive of customs and etiquette here than in Jakartra which I like. I agree with what Vanessa told me this afternoon over NY deli sandwiches and lattes – W. Sumatra is the REAL Indonesia.

First Mercy Corps Field Day: May 26, 2009

Lots of firsts for me today. My first field day. My first motorbike tour on the back of a bike driven by a local Indonesian who didn’t speak much English, weaving through the narrow, crazy passageways in North Jakarta as we looked at the progress of Mercy Corps flood risk reduction program. My first visit to a tofu/tempeh making establishment. My first up close and personal experience with a polluted river being used for bathing, wasting, and making food.

It’s funny how I have always considered the field to be research sites studying non-human objects like eelgrass or coral. It makes sense for the social sciences that the field would be communities as I have been learning in the classroom since August but it felt wrong for a few minutes today to be using that terminology when discussing these very poor areas. Makes them seem like objects instead of subjects to me.

The areas we were in today were definitely the poorest areas I’ve ever been to but I didn’t feel sad or emotional like I’ve always thought I would. I think that’s because they were so happy and well adapted to conditions most Americans would never stay in for one night, let alone a life time.

Yuni, the MC person in charge of the one year flood risk reduction program, explaind to me that this wasn’t considered the slums or poor, just flood-prone. What is poor than to Jakarta’s standards???

May 25, 2009

First day in the Mercy Corps Indonesia headquarters office in South Jakarta. The staff is huge, much larger than I was expecting. The taxi (“taksi”) took a while to get here because he kept thinking the address was “tiga puluh” (30) when it was tiga (3). I tried my best to explain it in Indonesian by politely asking “tidak, tiga atau tiga puluh” (no, three or thirty) and showing him the paper with the written address – all proud of myself for using the bahasa but it didn’t work. By the time I arrived I was a bit late but no one seemed to notice (late being 8: 20 instead of 8:00am). The taksi took me through the Mercy Corps security gate in which there were three or four guards outside, all with big smiles, and then he dropped me right at the front door. When you walk into the office its slightly air conditioned with a receptionist desk and a seating area with the Kompas and Jakarta Post (daily newspapers here) and then you walk through another set of glass doors ot the main office where there are lots of cubicles. Not the normal kind of cubicles you would imagine with the carpeted walls, but dividers made of dry wall (basically ½ walls).

I was taken to see Malka Older, the Program Director, in a back office that she shares with Vanessa, another ex-pat from Arizona who has been here for seven years and has a four year old. After a brief chat Malka gave me the tour of the first floor. The cubicles are divided by teams, the Flood Risk Reduction program, the Healthy People, Prosperous Places Program, the breast feeding program, the Urban Povery Reduction Program, and a few others. I meet Sean the Country Director (I think he’s Australian) and was shown the back yard and kitchen where there’s a maintained swimming pool and a break room in the back. The break room was occupied by two national staff members, one laying on his back and the other rubbing his feet. The one laying down seemed to be sick and contemplating going to the hospital. Malka turned to me as we walked away saying sometimes you see weird things with the national staff. I just laughed. There’s tea and kopi (coffee) every morning. The kopi is gross but the tea is pretty good.

The great thing about the office is that it is mostly local staff, which can be a problem with international organizations always hiring ex-pats instead of employing local knowledge. Later I learned from Sean that in 2007 when he arrived there were 15 expats and now about 5, and Vanessa is leaving in 15 days for a long sabbatical back to the states with her family. They are actively trying to reduce the number of expats and increase nationals as time goes by. Oddly he did mention that part of my job would be to increasing the self-confidence and English language skills of the staff in Padang, West Sumatra where I’ll be headed on Thursday for the summer, because there are no ex-pats there and they need help with their capacity. I am also going to be helping them learn how to process data into decision making which I wasn’t expecting but am prepared to do. Feels a bit elitist but I am sure necessary tasks for me to be doing this summer.

May 24, 2009

Up until today the above stated fears were becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy. But no more! I’ve had my break from Yale and had 1 ½ days of absolute vegging in the South Jakarta guest house, Grya Patria, I’m staying in. Today is the first day of not only my internship but research AND actively trying to converse in Indonesian.

For some reason when I stepped off the plane all the months of training with Pak Indryo went out of my head and other than “terima kasih” I couldn’t remember much of anything in Indonesian. I don’t know if it was from exhaustion or nerves or overwhelming chaos at the airport and customs, but something freaked me out of being able to speak basic bahasa Indonesian.

To get myself out of this stupor and odd vegging mode I had to yell at myself: “No Excuses Kasey! Fac id ("just do it" in Latin)”. I thought that if Christian missionaries could live most of their lives with the Dyalo in Thailand (influenced by my book companion: Fieldwork) than I can spend 3 months as an Indonesian. Even if it turns out I suck at this and am not meant for developing country fieldwork, at least I gave it my all. No regrets allowed on August 19th!

And so today is the day I woke up and realized I am in Indonesia and this is the first real day of my masters thesis research fieldwork summer.

First Day of Summer 2009: May 21, 2009

Today I time traveled.

When I left the U.S. “yesterday” it was Thursday, yet here I sit in Hong Kong on Saturday having only experienced Friday for a few hours while at 30,000 feet above the Pacific Ocean. My flight to Jakarta leaves in about 45 minutes but it still hasn’t really sunk in that I will be living in Indonesia for three months. When I went to Italy and Australia I think the realization set in much sooner because I had spent my childhood daydreaming about such trips. But Indonesia has only been a destination for me since December or January.

I am nervous! What if I’m a terrible Mercy Corps intern? What if I don’t get enough research interviews in because of my combo summer or just because I drop the ball? What if I am just not able to achieve my goal of eventually learning the language fluently? What if my computer problems ruin everything? What if I get myself into an uncontrollable situation or a natural disaster strikes and being new to my surroundings I don’t react the way I should?

All the preparations for this trip, finals week, RRAD Student Interest Group work, and my jobs I think distracted me from really thinking about my fears. Time will only tell what happens.

Here goes...