I've been busy

We are nearing the end of the term and so I've not done much this week aside from work. This weekend I should be doing some blogworthy things, I hope so. J. has agreed to guest blog but will likely not be able to do so until early next week. I will attempt to write more later on today if time permits. Today is "Teacher Appreciation Day" which means that some parents will be throwing a celebration for us after school. Also, lunch will be catered and likely very posh. Posh is a word seldom used in America but common here.

Other words and phrases of British common usage: "Swimmies"--swim suit. "Slippers" in reference to flip flops. "Should I come round to yours?"--Can I come over to your house? "Cheap as chips."--self explanatory (or are they all?).

There are more, I'll mention them as they occur. I fully realize how mundane these last posts have become. I am certainly going to be traveling by month's end and will be doing some interesting things in the next few days. Hopefully, inspiration will return to me and I will write something of interest today, in a couple of hours. If not, J.'s post should be interesting, so look forward to that. Again, this is a good time for questions and comments that might spark my preoccupied mind.

They won't be my pictures

J. is going to send me some photos of the orphange she last attended, and some photos of street children in Jakarta. As soon as she does, I will post as many as I can. Hopefully, that will be of interest to you. Since there is little that I can add to the images, I will see if she will guest blog and answer any questions. I haven't run this by her, so she may say 'no.'

I am definately going to the Grand Mosque this weekend. Photos of that will also be posted when available. I have reached the point where I don't know if I am repeating myself. Questions at this time would be quite welcomed since I hardly know what to say. Today we are back to the regular school day.

Last night the mozzies came (slang her for mosquitios, may be British slang, not sure). In spite of my attempts to cast them off with stick after stick of citronella insense (may not be called that, but whatever its name, it usually works)but there were simply too many of them. It was very uncomfortable and the power was also cut for a few hours rendering me defenseless and hot. All floors here are tiled and when the power goes out, it is best to lie on the floor--yes, on the hard tiles--as it is so much cooler. Still, it is hard. Sleep can be a challenge.

Sunday I am going to the Grand Mosque come Hell or higwater

Consdering that I have been here nearly seven weeks and have not yet gone to Grand Mosque makes me ashamed. The expats like to go to Western catering houses of shopping and food all the time and I am so tired of tagging long with them that I can barely restrain myself from saying so. I've been biting my tongue.

Sunday I will go and visit and am trying to find out if there is an english speaking imam with whom I can speak and learn from. There must be, I hope. Across the way is a historic palace and that too, I've been meaning to see ever since I arrived. Things keep getting in the way. J. can translate for me and is willing to do so, but it would be easier if I could communicate with our host as well.

I have noticed that I don't ennunciate words very clearly. J. is constantly saying, "What?" and I find myself having to be very conscious of moving my lips in order to be understood. For her part, she has the rather disconcerting habit of saying "en, eh" when an American would say "uh-huh." I think she's saying no and she's saying yes. Thus things happen like, "I thought you didn't like the movie," "no, it's one of my favourites." If you watch her closely you'll see that the "en-eh" is accompanied by a nod, but it's a very odd thing to get used to after years of training in the reverse. I have had to adopt British spelling as best I can, thus the constant use of "u's" in words like 'colour' and 'favourite' and the use of an 's' in place of 'z' in 'civilisation' and 'industrialisation.' There are other things too. Most english speakers say "can't" and "chance" as a Brit would, "Caunt and Chaunce."

I'm also told that I speak in a rapid slur. Still, there are some things I do correctly that J. and others do not. For example, one checks their "mail" not their "mails" and certainly one never has to run to the store to pick up some "stuffs." In perhaps the most hilarious and often repeated instance of unusual local phrasing came from the "natural Singaporean teacher" "H" who upon receiving a barrage of angry honks from a driver behind him complained in an Indian-Singaporean accent, "there's a crazy monkey horning me from behind." "That" I said, "is a serious problem."

Crashed my Mac

I am trying to recover my Mac and when I do, if I do, I can begin posting pictures again. Things have been busy lately, socially, and I think I need to spend some time going around the city and being more culturally observant. So that's the plan for this week.

The "Mysterious Organization" seems to actually exist in some form or another. People watch each other and guess and gossip about what they don't know for sure. This is not the Indonesian community, with whom I have very little contact. The drivers are Indonesian, yes, and the maids, and the workers at the stores and restaurants, but most of my neighbors are the Chinese minority who own everything and live in huge houses. I'll say no more about the matter. The "M.O." is everywhere in Medan.

Tomorrow, if all goes to plan, I will post pictures and have something to say about those pictures. If not tomorrow, then sometime this week, I promise. Oh, there is one story. We do not start classes for another hour today because of the strange testing schedule. The driver wanted to take me to school at nine and I told him that I was hungry (Saya lapan). He took me to an Italian restaurant that was not yet opened. The restaurant is owned by the father of a student in mentor class. When they saw which school I was from they let me come in and eat one and half hours before they opened. That's my school, connections.

like school on saturday, no class

The title is a reference to "Fat Albert". On that show someone would say to, I don't know, Rudy: "Rudy, you're like school on Saturday." And Rudy would say, "School on Saturday?!" and then that person speaking to Rudy would reply, "Yeah, no class." I don't know why I thought that was worth explaining. I have little time to post because the net is so slow today that I waited 25 minutes for the posting page to appear. Fortunately, I have little to say that's of any news.

I have a class of students whose English is so poor that it is very difficult to get them to understand concepts of Geography or History. I have to teach them how to read maps and J. suggested that I have them make maps of the school, then have them use their maps to on a treasure hunt. I said that's a good idea, and she said, "Yeah, it is."

So that's what we'll be up to next week in Secondary 1 Da Vinci Geography. Da Vinci is the room name. All the classes are named after famous Westerners. My mentor class in Van Gogh and there is a Monet and an Edison and a Copernicus. The students tend to pronouce that last one as "copper knickers."

There is a Primary three boy who is as tiny as can be and he has huge ears. He reached up to me today to grab onto my forearm (a lot of the students like to touch my skin) and I lifted up. He held on until he was hanging from about shoulder height. This greatly amused the other kids in the class and they all wanted to try.

My height is of great interest to most of the kids and they often ask me, "Sir, how did you get so tall?" I finally responded to one kid after he'd asked me for the thousandth time, "I did the same thing you did to get so short, only in reverse."

I'm back

It's been an odd and difficult week. No school on Monday, but from Tuesday until just a few hours ago, a handful of other teachers, myself included, were in charge of supervising "teambuilding activities" at a private club in Medan from 8 in the morning until noon. There was mandatory testing for some of the students with the highest academic achievement. This was held in the school and unless specifically licensed by the educational elite of Singapore to be there, it was forbidden to be near the testing area. The school's director, a VIP most anywhere in the city and a vital member of the club, booked the site for the majority of students who would not be tested. While the day was technically shorter than the normal school day, it seemed much, much longer. Many of the activities were held outside and the week has been very hot. Students were not of a mind to pay too much attention and being heard was no small matter. Even when provided with microphones, which cracked and squealed and worked little more than half of the time, we were up against the odds. The result was chaos for the first two days and something of a less violent sort of disorganization for the last two. On top of this, each day I returned hot and sticky to a home without power. Today, too, power is out in my neighborhood. On average, it has not come back until six in the evening. I have spent a couple of afternoons at the nearby pool but am feeling quite exhausted in general. A group of teachers wanted to go out for dinner on Wednesday and J. wanted to wear a new dress, which, it turns out, meant that she wanted to go dancing, which meant that we were out until 12:30 am, which, it so happens meant not getting home until 1:30, and this, dear readers, meant that I could not sleep at all for much of the night and am still paying for it. Yesterday I tried to nap, but napping in a tropical climate without power or "aircon" is not something I've been able to pull off.

We have school tomorow--on a Saturday. The testing continues next week for Monday and Tuesday and we will working an odd and modified school day. The testing is disruptive to say the least.

I still have not been to the Grand Mosque, yesterday was planned for the visit but J. was stuck monitoring tests and I didn't want to go alone. I would suggest, for people interested, looking into the small Islamic sect of Sufiism. The Sufis are a tolerant and mystical group (they are so few that they one rarely hears about them) and believe in the obliteration of the ego and the unity between all humanity. One of the more famous Sufi writers said that, "whatever one thinks God is, it's not that." There is more to say on the matter, and there are no Sufi Mosques in Medan from which I could learn, but from what I've been reading, it seems a very positive and lovely religion. Those who know more on the subject than I might want to offer comment, I've only begun to read about this in detail. At the sametime, I've gone back to reading Kafka. That has nothing to do with anything.

Since we last spoke

Not a lot has happened since the last post. I did get a haircut. In America, at least at the very modest salons I patronized, a man would get a haircut and that would be it. I went to this salon in Medan in the Complex near my home where my roommate had been before me. I was first given a very, uncomfortable scalp massage that lasted much longer than I would have thought possible. I've since been told that I could have said that I didn't want it, but the drag queen who performed the massage spoke not a word of English and I couldn't think of a sentence that would politely express my desire to just get on with the haircut. Then a very openly gay stylest did the cut. There seem to be many openly gay men in Medan, not what I would have expected, but nothing about Medan is as I would have expected. He also spoke only Indonesian and presented me with two catalogues of haircuts for white men. I pointed to one picture and said "ini" (this) and he shook his head and pointed to a different picture. I wound up negotiating and settling on a third picture we could both agree upon. The result was about the exact same haircut I had gotten in the States. Then I got a shave (no straight edge razor, but hot towels were a part of the deal). And then, another scalp massage and shampoo, again of interminable length. Two hours later I had a haircut. It cost about 3 US dollars.

The weekend was uneventful as the interesting persons were all out of town. I spent a lot of time by myself playing guitar and writing and that sort of thing. I am going to visit the Central Mosque this week and the old Palace and I will try to take photos where they are allowed.

My friend J. had been in Jakarta and it sounds like a place to go, but my next trip I think I will go to the once very important port city of Melaka (Muh-la-ka). The straits of Melaka were at one time the key waterway for any trade conducted between India and China and so Melaka was a coveted station. The British, Portuguese, and Dutch all have a history there and it is, I'm told, well preserved. There are museums and old buildings and one can apparently get a real sense of this city's rich history. In contrast nothing in Singapore seems older than 5 years, and Singapore is a much younger city, not even founded until the early to mid 19th c., yet they are constantly rebuilding and now will be bringing in Las Vegas casinos. So, Melaka is calling. Jakarta is, I'm told, a very modern city with night clubs and shops and one can even find books written in English, good books too, classics. At the same time there is a great deal of old culture and history to see. Wayang puppet theater is quite famous and would very much like to see that. Two hours from there is Bandung which offers mountains and so forth. In Bandung (all "u's" have a long sound, all "i's" are "e's") J. bought me some traditional Javanese percussion instruments that are really cool. The gamelan is an instrument most associated with Java and while I did not get one of those (they are quite large), I'm told that the gamelan was played from 8 in the evening until the early hours of the morn.

The French composer Debussey first introduced Europeans to the gamelan at World's fair in Paris at the turn of the 19th century. I know this from a course I took in college. I remember thinking that Debussey's composition was too foreign to me to ever understand, but now I want to go to Jakarta and hear the gamelan. Thursday eve J. called me and said that she was sitting on a balconey listening to this strange instrument that is both percussive and melodic and she held out the handphone so I could hear it.

I won't actually be going to the orphanage until I have received donations and won't be able to seek donations until we are back on a normal school schedule which won't be until next week. As soon as that happens I will find out more about it and let everyone know.

It could be another few days before I post again, but it could be sooner. I made mashed potatoes last night, I am starting to find things that I had thought heretofore unavailable--a masher, for one, basil, for another. Now I need a grill, all things will come in time, Rome wasn't built in a day and Medan, well, they might get around to building it sometime, don't hold your breath.

Internet cafe

It is interesting what passes for a "cafe" here. We have computers but that's it. It's more of an internet room.

I arrived at the field where the independence day celebration was held at about 1 in the afternoon on Thursday. It was apparently a break in the action. People were seated under tents and eating. The field was lined with vendors of food and merchants of knickknacks (is that how one spells that word?). It was interesting but I didn't see the tree climbing competition I had been told to look for, or any of the other performances. Nobody wanted to attend with me, so I hung around for about an hour. Eventually the stares and quizzical looks convinced me to move on home. It was very hot.

I keep thinking that eventually people will get accustomed to seeing me and stop greeting me like an alien. Men on motorbikes shout out to me and, of course, the women seem to see me as a potential meal ticket. How wrong they are!

We were taken out to a Chinese restaurant by the mother of one of my roommate's students. This woman owned the restaurant and so we were given red carpet treatment. We were served endless courses of fish, curry, pumpkin soup, all manner of appetizers and fruit and eventually very fancy cakes and custard filled pastries made to look like mice. It took roughly three hours and I was proud when our hostess complimented my skill with chopsticks. I am getting better at it.

Indonesians don't seem to use chopsticks too often. It's a fork and spoon place.

I am going for a haircut today and it just occured to me that my last was the day I left America. It should be interesting because outside of being able to say that I would like a haircut, I have no words to direct. I am told that I will also receive a shave. I wonder if they'll use a straight edge razor and hot towels. Medan is like that for Westerners. At times you find yourself doing things that would have been impossibly expensive and disgustingly decadent in America. This is why I am eager to see this orphanage. The contrast between rich and poor here is drastic. We had been using our rich neighbor's maid, but we will now change to my girlfriend's as her maid has small children and is desperate to find more work. Her income is roughly 70 US dollars a month. When schools starts up again I will begin asking my students for donations of toys and clothing for the orphans. I was asked earlier if these kids had any hope of being adopted. I am not sure, but I do know that they can be purchased by families, not for slave labour or anything, don't worry. There is a difference between buying a child and adopting one, but I don't know much about this. I will try to find out.

Thanks for all the comments, and the anonymous comments that go to my email but do not appear here. I will make a point to blog again soon, but won't be in the school again for another week.

More photos

The one picture is of the village on the island in the middle of Lake Toba. The purpose of taking it and then posting it is to give an example of the sort of landscape one sees in Sumatra quite often. This is how most people live. The second photo needs no further explanation. Again the authenticity of my wardrobe is nearly unquestionable, though a few anachronisms slipped through. See if you can spot them!

I don't know when I'll be posting again. Tomorrow and Friday there is no school. The weekend is a time I'm usually disconnected, and then next week there is a completely different school schedule due to some mandatory testing. I will attempt to get to the internet cafe to write when I can but it won't likely be a daily event.

I watched an Iranian film called "Turtles Can Fly" the other day and reccomend it highly. Also, "Sometimes in April", a film about the Rwanda genocide is a good bit of history and companion piece to "Hotel Rwanda" which had more famous actors and so received more press, but was also quite good.

My school has done little in the way of celebrating the upcoming Independence Day which is frustrating for the few native Indonesian at our school. Most schools are either off today or devoting the day to the celebration. Indonesians take the holiday very seriously. I plan to attend some of the festivities tomorrow and hope that it will give me something to write about and, of course, pictures.

Thank you for the comments regarding the Toba trip and for the pressure to post the silly Batak king photos. My friend, yes okay, girlfriend, who persuaded me to accept the offer to pose for these also thought that if I didn't blog them, then there was no point in embarrassing me. So here you go, laugh it up.

AARRGGHH!

Things just aren't working today and we just had a power outage, so this is the last time I'm trying on the school computer. I am trying to post just two of the pictures, the lake and the monkey, the photo of me in regal garb is not unlike the monkey.

By the way the anonymous threat to withold comments until that picture is posted is sort of idle considering that said anonymous poster, whose name I'm sure begins with "c" has never commented before. I might as well threaten to withold the picture until she comments regularly. That said, I am typing just to kill time until the picture uploads, if it uploads.

these are the pictures, ran out of time earlier

Things just are working with the posting of photos. I ran out of time earlier and had to get to class, but hopefully by this time will work out.

Kate, ask my parents for my email, although it's the same as it used to be so you might have it somewhere. I have your email, but it's in a drawer at home and I don't have internet there. Then I can send you pictures directly.

This is a short week and I'm not going anywhere over the upcoming break. It will be independence day in Indonesia on Thursday. Soekarno, Indonesia's first president, declared Indonesia to be indpendent on August 17, 1945--approximately one week after the Japanese occupiers had been devasted by the detonation of two atomic bombs in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but before any official surrender. The British and Americans swept the Japanese off of the archipelago with the intention of reinstalling Dutch rule, they failed in that regard. Indonesians had become too revolutionary and too well armed to be recolonized. The Dutch would not recognize Indonesian independence for another four years, but they did not control anything in the meantime. At any rate, there should be some interesting activities on Thursday to witness.

It is very common for young children to work as vendors on the streets. During periods of heavy traffic, they will approach your car window and try to sell you a snack, or a newspaper, or lately, small Indonesian flags. Poor children work if they can here, the students I teach needn't do the same.

One of the teachers is having a Barbeque Thursday night. It should be nice. The usual gang will be there, my roommate, the Brit, the "untrained" teacher I told you about, and others. My best friend will be in Jakarta and Bandung for the weekend and doesn't mind saying so.

Yeah, ok

Here are some pictures, more explanation later. One is a monkey, another is the lake, actually two of the lake. One of me in king garb--the shoes are an exact replica of authentic Batak sneakers. There is also a picture of some statues meant to represent the dancers who would have entertained a Batak king.

The driver for the week cost roughly 120 US dollars, the hotel, about 36 US. The food at the hotel was not all that great, not terrible, but we didn't feel like going out to the town after a long day of travel and being out in the sun and so took the path of least resistence known as the hotel restaurant. Most of the pictures taken are of me or my travel companion and I don't think that this is the forum for posting such things so I will try to email pictures to anyone interested, well, not anyone, friends and family.

As a gesture of kindness, a friend and I invited a new teacher out to dinner with us last night. He is Singaporean. There seems to be a tendency amongst the Singaporeans to think very rigidly. One teacher here, also Singaporean but not cut from the same cloth, is an excellent primary level teacher, a natural. He is, however, not a licensed teacher or as the Singaporeans say, a "trained teacher." They place a great deal of emphasis on the "training" and have often made him feel inadequate for lacking "training." At dinner, this man asked if I was a "trained basketball coach" and when I said no, he asked if I'd read manuals on the subject. Very odd. I said I am the basketball teacher because I'm the only one at the school with even the remotest understanding of the game. He didn't seem to understand. There is a rudeness to this sort of questioning and I just try to avoid these people, as do many others.

Lake Toba pictures will be posted post haste

There are pictures to post but that will come later when I have more time.

We drove to Lake Toba on Saturday morning. Medan is an expansive city and it seemed to take more than an hour just to get outside the city limits. We then drove over pot-hole ridden roads for another three hours. Along the way we passed women standing in the middle of the road holding sticks out with attached nets that were for donations to the sufferers of something, my companion did not know what but said there was always someone who needed help badly. Lake Toba is Batak country. The Batak were an animist tribe that several hundred years ago practiced cannibalism as part of their war ritual. They eventually converted either to Christianity or Islam and since then have splintered into 5 tribes who don't get along at all. The lake itself is set right in the mountains and was as beautiful as everyone said it would be--the forthcoming pictures will bear this out.

Our first stop along the road was to look at some monkeys who either begging or hunting through garbage or both. They were everywhere. On the way back we stopped to see them again and one monkey came right up to the car on his hind legs and was clearly looking for food, he had pleading eyes. It's not that they're starving but they have learned to get their food this way. One of the monkeys was quite fat and my friend assumed that "he is the one who is stealing everybody's food."

For the price of about 36 US dollars we were able to stay in a very nice hotel with a view of the lake. We took a speed boat to an island and despite the fact that this was a Saturday, we more or less had the hotel and island to ourselves. The people here who rely on tourism for the meager livings were desperate for us to buy things and we did. Items were very inexpensive and one almost felt a moral obligation to give out the 25,000 rupiah (2.50, or so, US) for a T-Shirt or Batak calender. The latter is actually quite lovely.

We sat down at the tomb of a Batak king who died some 360 years ago. The local historian told us what the symbols and carvings meant in Indonesian and my friend translated. He showed us a staff that had two large geckos on it and four small female breasts. He started in about the geckos. My friend translated, "The king thought we should all be like geckos, friendly and everywhere." I nodded. That was it about the geckos, the breast information went on for some time. He'd tell her, then she'd translate for me, each time getting more embarrassed. The breast is the symbol of fertility and so large breasted women were desired more than pretty ones. Then she translated, "Uh, the ideal wife would have 17 sons, and 16 daughters." I said, "well, that goes without saying."

As we were a man and woman travelling together, the locals assumed that we were married and many men congratulated me on choosing such an attractive wife. Their next question was, "how many children do you have?" We'd say none, and they would say "I hope you have many, many children." Another man assumed, for some reason, that I was French. When I told him, no, American, he smiled and said "American! You will love it here. We are very beautiful people, and you can be very prostitute!" He meant prosperous, I think.

At the Batak Museum, very small, I was cajoled into dressing in the garb of a Batak king. Those pictures will not be posted.

last post til monday, i think

Some of you may remember the Americans I met a couple of weeks ago and wrote about. They kept telling me that Medan is "the Wild West." Yesterday a friend and I went out for coffee with her daughter. Her daughter is 10. I went to use the restroom and was not there when they ordered. I had an iced mocha, my friend had a green tea and her daughter received a choclatey looking thing with whipped cream and brown sugar along the rim of the glass. Her daughter kept complaining that the drink was too bitter and her mom tasted it and said, "that is bitter!" I was then asked to taste it and I said, "Well, I think it's actually whiskey." It was. She had ordered an Irish Coffee and the Mom had not thought about what that is and didn't think that a coffee shop would serve alcohol and certainly not to a little girl. Another friend of mine upon hearing of the incident said, "if a ten year old white girl wants whiskey in Medan, they give her whiskey." This is not everywhere, of course, there are many restaurants that serve no alcohol, but the ones that do cater to Western tastes.

I have also noticed that cabbies pretty much belch whenever they feel like it.

Today will be a long day, many classes and a staff meeting and then basketball. Once it's over the weekend will start and next week is a short week and so there should be time to rest up soon.

As one who has been begging for comments, I probably shouldn't comment on comments but I have received some anonymous remarks that are the same every time. That is they are a sentence long and use the exact same words every time. There is only one person I know who knows about blogs and is reading this, so maybe he could enlighten me, maybe there is a menu of pre-written comments somewhere that people choose from for expediency's sake. For the record, I am just one guy. No one but me puts this thing together, and there is very little to it. Blogging is basically typing.

I am always about four years behind the times but I've begun to be quite the text messager although I kind of hate it. Everyone here prefers the text message to the phone call, so what can I do? It takes 7 texts to accomplish what can be done in a single 1 minute phone call, and all the words are shorthand and no one's shorthand matches anyone else's. I guess it's the perfect form of communication for Medan.

Daily post

I will be going to Lake Toba, it is settled at last.

I've been asked how often I get tutored in Bahasa Indonesia and the answer is that the lessons are informal and occur when I and the Bahasa Indonesia teacher have time in our schedules. It is informal.

I have become very good with numbers and directions because these are words that come up a lot, and I can order food, and I can read some parts of most menus. That's about all I can do. The easy part of the language is sentence construction simply because there is only the one tense.

Many people at the school are suffering from severe colds, I have minor symptoms but nothing to complain about. It has been very hot during the days. The mornings are very pleasant, the afternoons are not, the evenings become pleasant once again.

It is a clear morning and I could see the mountains surrounding Medan for only the third time since I've been here. Pollution obscures the view on most days. We wake up at 5:30 on school days, but today I awoke at 5 and walked around the neighborhood to listen to morning prayers. They seem to come from all directions. It is a good time for a walk and inspiring. I recommend it.

Thursday, today, is the lightest day in my schedule, only a few classes and no basketball. I can leave at 4:15 tonight instead of 5:30 and that allows me to go out for dinner and be a bit social. It's a mini break within the week.

more language indonesian and explanation of last typo

The "but Islam" bit that made a sentence in the previous post unintelligible is a perfect example of another sort of error I often make when typing and that is to have two thoughts in my head at one time and write both of them partially. I was going to say that Islam does not permit images of religious persons and so I wonder how they feel about photographs taken of holy sites, I'm guessing that it is forbidden.

The language Malay of which Indonesian is a close derivation was imposed upon the peoples of Indonesia by the Dutch. When the Dutch began to allow some Indonesians to receive education, they were educated in Malay and all business and government affairs were also recorded in Malay. The unintended result of this was that elite Indonesians with an anti-colonial sentiment could now communicate with each other. The segregated schools allowed these people the time and knowledge and language to form political associations. The cities built by the Dutch allowed more and more people of similar political affinities to meet and talk.

The cities did not come about until the Colonial administration of Indonesia came under the direction of the Dutch government (roughly 1799). Before that, those Dutch who came to the archipelago were associated with the Dutch East Indies Company. That corporation fell bankrupt after 200 years in 1799. The government took over. As industrialization led to better medicines, roads and transportation, and after the opening of the Suez canal in 1869, more and more Dutch began to settle in Indonesia and thus, cities were built. Prior to this the Dutch who came over were strictly men and these men made the company of many local women, often marrying them. There was not a strict racial hierarchy. As it became easier to settle here, women came from Holland and with them children and the imposition of a racially segregated society. It was no longer acceptable for Dutch men to interact with the locals. The women brought not only racism but also were vital to the implementation of the "Ethical Policy", variations of this were mouthed by the French in Vietnam (the civilizing mission or mission civilisatrice) or by the English notion of a White Man's Burdern. In essence, European colonizers began to speak about their duty to lift up and civilize the colonized. That meant schools and other forms of welfare like immunization. These things were never well funded but they did help to assuage liberal guilt over the moral transgressions inherent in taking another land's wealth--for an American version, think Manifest Destiny or Operation Enduring Freedom.

Nevertheless while the original President and Vice President of Indonesia (Soekarno and Hatta, respectively) were products of these schools and the resulting political parties, they never amounted to much until the Japanese kicked the Dutch out and took the islands for themselves. They also kicked the Brits out of Malaysia and Singapore. Churchill gave so little credit to Japanese that his forces in these places were very undersupplied and unprepared. Those left to defend Singapore found out later that their maps were not of "The City of Lions" but of the the Isle of Wight. Here endith the lesson.

Language Indonesian and typos

The word Bahasa means simply "language." So English would be, "Bahasa Ingriss" and so on. Bahasa Indonesia gets shortened to Bahasa in daily but it literally doesn't mean the Indonesian language unless you say the whole thing. Shortening it to "Indonesian" makes more sense and that is done too, but both are understood.

I have read my posts and noticed that in haste I have made many classic errors, using "to" instead of "too", or "Their" instead of "they're" or "there", or "whose" instead of "who's." I do know how to use them properly, it's just that when I type my fingers go where they want and I am a terrible proofreader. Sorry.

Last Saturday was a Moslem holiday, I don't know in recognition of what, so it was not possible to enter the Mosque. I am told that visitors are generally welcome. I don't know if pictures are permitted, I have seen pictures of Mosques but Islam not of the inside, that I can remember. If you happen to wake up at 4:30 in the morning, you can hear the prayers recited, of course they are recited 5 times per day and you can hear them at other times as well, but at 4:30 in the a.m. there is little other noise in Medan and the recitation has quite an affecting affect.

Many of the teachers here like to go to spas for massage. They offer the gamut of cultural techniques and give you ginger tea which is really quite good. I've been twice. Generally speaking, I am not really a massage person, but it's only ten dollars and the showers are good and you do feel a lot more relaxed when thing is finally through. It costs about 10 dollars US.

I am on tenterhooks about the weekend and don't know if I'll get to see Lake Toba or what, should know by tomorrow. I do have a short break coming up next Thursday and may well go somewhere in Sumatra then, I'll keep you updated.

Oh yes, the protest

There were dozens of women marching, I can't say how far they travelled as I saw them only walking to the last stretch in the Mosque.

I can't offer any insight into it at all, but those are good questions. Many of those we passed seemed to be smiling as if it were almost a social outing, but that's not an analysis but rather a very superficial impression based on second's glance out of a moving taxi.

when it rains, it snows

This morning I received an email from a school in Bahrain with whom I had interviewed last fall, they offered me a job teaching high school. It's funny how things happen.

Obviously I will have to turn them down but at one point I was quite concerned that I would receive no offers from anyone, ever. This is the third international school to offer me a job since May.

On another point altogether, I'm sorry for calling you chickens.

On yet another point, the running joke between myself and a friend is that the aforementioned "mysterious organization" which terrorized a student of mine at his former school has its tentacles everywhere. There are many we suspect of being M.O. operatives, or simply M.O. You may know them too, or you know them but don't know that you know them. Their quite devious and there is almost no way of telling for certain if someone you encounter is M.O. or simply obtuse. All I can say is, keep yours eyes peeled for anything suspicious and knowing the little we do about the "mysterious organization" it is fair to say that the least suspicious activity may, in fact, be the most suspicious. Think to yourself, "why is he eating that banana? why flip flops and not proper sandals? why is that guy always talking to his wife?" I have raised the "M.O. threat alert" to code mauve, this is up from last week's code azure level but we knew less then and were perhaps did not exercise appropriate caution.

Now I must work. The Lake Toba plan has hit another snag. We had overlooked that there is mandatory training on Saturday (this is total b.s.). We had arranged for a car for friday and now have to see if that can be changed to Saturday afternoon. I have no idea how this is going to work out, or if it will. Sigh. That's all.

Questions to answer, thank you

The vehicles in the fuzzy posted photo are motorcycles, I will try to remember to take a picture of some becak soon. When you walk anywhere, and nobody walks here--except me, the becak drivers call out to you "hey Mister!" It is also not uncommon for strangers to pass by on motorcyle yelling "hey Sir! Hello Sir!" and even, in the case of some women, "I love you, Sir!" There is a lack of sincerity in that last one. I'm a little uncomfortable typing this but here goes. Being a tall white man here makes one sort of a magnet for unsolicited attention from local women. Wherever I go, like all people who are obviously foreigners, I get stared at. If you make eye contact with a lot of the women, they will smile at you and sometimes try to talk to you. I turned around at the mall and noticed three young women who were following me. When I caught them they all giggled and ran off.

I had to go to the immigration office to jump through yet another hoop for my work visa. There are many teachers who are here on extended tourist visas which they will just continue to renew for a while--to what end, I don't know. The woman at the embassey and the female agent who was translating for me both kept saying, "sir, so handsome. Mister is single." I don't get this kind of attention in America, but here I must symbollize something quite different. White guys in general get some of the same treatment. At first it was strange, and now I just avoid eye contact.

The kids eat lunch in shifts and have but a short recess in the morning and another at lunchtime. By then it is often so hot and humid that I wouldn't personally want to be too active but it doesn't stop the kids.

I get time everyday to prep for class and at the end of the day as well. We are required to stay at the school until at least 4:15 and usually have to stay later than that due to the extracurricular activities. It is all but confirmed that I will be going out of town this weekend and picture will follow. Today I will photograph a becak and more.

This was actually a movie

There is not a great deal of news today. I went to the mall yesterday to replace my handphone which I believe must have slipped out of my pocket and into a taxi.

On the way we passed a march of Moslem women who were making their way along a crowded drag to the Central Mosque of Medan. They were carrying signs critical of the US and Israel. It was the first politcal showing I've seen since I arrived and we passed slowly by in the cab. It was a peaceful rally and I can offer no analysis on the content of the posters and signs but one does not have to be fluent in Indonesian to understand that the words written below the Israeli flag were likely unflattering.

The picture I posted was actually a movie I took of my daily ride to school. It is not a good photo but I wanted to post some photos and the others I've taken recently are of me or friends of mine.

I am again encouraging people to ask questions. I have talked to some people (or received emails) and have come to understand that some people are fearful of commenting but it really takes no effort and can even be done anonymously. So quit being such chickens.

The odd weekend post

I had to stop by the school today and so have internet access. It is hot even by Medan standards and last night the power went out for a couple of hours which cut down on sleeping time. The mexican dinner went well, people seemed to enjoy themselves. This morning I cooked breakfast for the second time in a week and it was nearly exactly the same as it would have been in America save for having to spread the butter on the toast with a spoon. There do not seem to be any knives in Indonesia. We do have to sharp cutting knives but if you go to a restaurant you will get a fork and spoon, sometimes chopsticks, but always the fork and spoon. In our house we were supplied with plates and silverware and we were both puzzled by the fact that there were no knives, still are.

My Brit friend, trying to do a favour for an Aussie on her first day here, brought one of his two sharp knives to her house. She wasn't home so he went into a local canteen where we all end up eating a couple nights each week (very good french fries, strangely enough but the burger is no burger). Some expats (who are now friends, well aquaintences) saw that he had this and quickly rushed him to the owner who proceeded to elaborately camouflage the knife in newspaper wrapping finally changing its appearance to that of a take out meal. He was told that had the police seen him, he could have spent sometime in jail. Weapons are not allowed in Medan. Still that doesn't explain why we were given sharp knives but no butter knives. The only thing that would explain that, I think, is that such knives are of no use with most traditional Indonesian food, although they do eat a ton of chicken, so who knows?

Last week, I don't think that I posted this, I went to one of my student's birthday parties. She was turning twelve. The party was at a McDonalds and when I arrived all of the students applauded. A few other teachers went as well, but it was MY mentor class and I think they were surprised that I showed. The food was the same for everyone, we didn't order our own meals so I can't comment on cultural differences at McDonald's a la Pulp Fiction, but we were served fried chicken, rice, and fries. It seemed pretty similar except that I don't think McDonald's has fried chicken in the States, correct me if I'm wrong. The kids love McDonald's, love Hollywood, love Rap music and R & B, there is not a whole lot of difference in terms of those things. It is important to remember that these are wealthy Chinese students, not Indonesians. I am going to visit an orphanage in the near future with a friend who volunteers for them. I will be collecting donations from mentor class, maybe all of my classes.

Lastly, it was not the white student who was the target of racist remarks and bullying, it was one of the only, if not the only, Indonesian students in the school. She left for home early, refusing to return to the classroom. I had misunderstood the person who originally told me about it, these misunderstandings are frequent. Just because another person speaks english doesn't mean you can always make out what they are saying, nor does it mean they get what you're saying. So often, I think, people just pretend to understand and that leads to even more serious miscommunications--like a dramatic version of Three's Company. Anyway, I had the students who did the bullying in my history class. I began by writing a list of countries on the board from all over the world, each had at one time targeted others of different ethnicities for violence. I went through the list in dramatic fashion, Germany killed 6 million jews, the Dutch killed untold Indonesians and Africans, the Americans offed nearly all of the Native American population and enslaved hundreds of thousands of Africans, Turkey killed hundreds of thousands of Armenians, the Japanese, several thousand Chinese... Then I said, that all of these killings were predicated on a belief in racial difference. I looked at them and said the Nazis wouldn't have like me and they wouldn't have liked you. They had hierarchy of who was a good and who was a bad race. The Germans at the top, then the English, and so on, at the bottom were Africans, PEOPLE LIKE YOU, Russians, and jews. Then I said, as you can see no matter where you go you will find people doing terrible things to each other based on racist belief, and the fact of the matter, the FACT of the matter, is that each of these groups were WRONG. Any good Scientist of ANY ethnicity, race, or religion will tell you that we are the same in every important way. The rest is as important as the shirt you're wearing. Then I told them to spend the rest of the hour writing to me about a time when they felt they were excluded, and how that felt, and why you wouldn't want someone else to feel that way.

I got some very heartfelt responses and one odd one. One small child talked of how, at his previous school, he was bullied and unaccepted by a group of kids who called themselves, "the mysterious organinzation." I am fascinated by this kid's story. Who is this "mysterious organization" and why don't they use a less telltale name?

my email is not working today, what's new?

That last post was quite rushed. My schedule is different from day to day. History and Geography, which I teach and am the only one who teaches them, are not considered very important in Singapore. At the level of Secondary 3, it is an elective and so I have one history class with only 4 students, and one geography class with only 13 and never the twain shall meet. In my other classes, which are not electives, the class size is between 25 and 30 students. For two days each week, they take history and for two days, Geography. I suggested, since these are the same kids taking both classes at the same time (for example Secondary 1 history and Secondary 1 geography contains the same students), that the two could be combined. That idea was immediately shot down. My point was that rather than treating the two subjects as completely seperate, I could look for ways to combine lessons and lesson plans. On days when history required more time than the limited amount I'm offered in two days per week, I should be able to use geography time; and vice versa. No go. In addition to this I have one half hour of social studies per week in 6 different primary classes from primary 3-6. I have no experience with kids as young as primary 3 and 4 and so this is a real challenge. Also, trying to make a half hour class worthwhile while trying to learn nearly 180 names on top of the secondary kids' names is no small feat. Organization is key.

There is no uniformity between abilities at the secondary lever. One Secondary one class is mostly high functioning, capable of almost anything, the other is comprised mostly of students whose english is next to nil. The classes, therefore, cannot move at the same pace and the trajedy is that there are a few, and only a few, in the class with less english proficiency who could be and should be moving along much faster.

There are only two white students at the school and I am told that one of them experienced some racist harassment earlier today. I have this class for history and geography in two hours and this will be a focus of my lesson, the problem is that by many of the students, I am barely understood. We'll see how it goes.

On weekends I am not connected to the internet and so, this will be my last post until monday. I am very much looking forward to the weekend. My roommate and I are hosting a Mexican dinner tonight, she is cooking, and tomorrow I have big plans--among them to see how many forms of transportation my friend and I can take without resorting to taxi.

I was observed in a primary 4 class earlier by the principal and it did not, by my calculations, go as planned. The students seemed not to remember anything we had talked about before (it WAS a week ago), and I panicked. I'm told that she's very understanding but I was surprised (though surprisingly surprised, all things considered) that she would choose to observe me with an age group I am so ill suited to teach.

I hope all is well with everyone (that's a pretty unlikely), but with me I couldn't be better. Really. This is the best I've felt in ages.

A typical school day

First, there is not corporeal punishment here, other schools, local schools, I think that there is, but not here. We do have some students who come from these other schools, not many, but you can tell.

Generally there is a great deal of respect for teachers/gurus, but it is not all encompassing, it has to be earned. Compared to the urban schools I've been in America, there are no serious disciplinary problems. That does not mean that there is total acquiesence either. The students are fairly naive, and less sophisticated than American children. They are also very wealthy. Their parents are very interested in them to the point of being doting.

In the morning we have a mentor period. I have a class that is like a homeroom, then classes begin. The students stay in this class all day and teachers go from room to room. I have a about 5 or 6 classes a day and when the school day ends, I monitor my mentor class for an hour of study hall. Those who need it have a tutorial in subjects for another hour and then an hour of CCA's which are extracurricular activities (I lead basketball). That brings us to about 5:15pm at which point one has to balance waiting another hour for a school driver to bring you home or taking a cab and paying a small price. Usually, the urge to get out of here makes the latter option pretty appealing. Traffic at that hour is something to see, once.

There are not many obese children, if any. That sort of thing is shamed and discouraged to the point where it is out of hand. There is a rigidity in the culture of the school and the empahasis is often superficial, or narrow minded. Many have noted, not just Westerners that in this culture (which is NOT Indonesian) that there is a concrete belief in a black and white reality with little spillover. Add to that a respect for power and those with influence, add to that a very pro-capitalist government, and you have a fairly superficially, rigid and uncritical worldview. The textbooks for history suggest that in a true civilisation there is a hierarchy of occupations with some necessarily more respected than others. More on that later.

Second attempt to post today

The internet here is just not very good. So my earier post didn't post and I think it's just as well because it was a lot of the same.

The school provides drivers for all the teachers and they are free during school hours. Off hours they can be called and are very cheap. They will take you around Sumatra if you choose to book them. There are also private driving companies. The latter is what my friend and I failed to book in time. So we will go a week from tomorrow instead of tomorrow. It just takes a phone call and more Indonesian than I know how to speak. The problem with school drivers in off hours is that there are few of them and they get run around a lot. Also, this is a school in which everyone seems to concern themselves with everyone else's business. If you'd like to get away during the weekend without becoming part of the gossip mill, it's best to use resources outside of the school community's purview.

There was also a question in regard to a teacher at a school in Medan. I can safely say that no one by that name works at my school, to my knowledge. Having said that, it is my policy to avoid giving out names of anyone with whom I may associate as that is, in my opinion, an invasion of their privacy. There are many schools with western teachers in Medan. I've met some of the other already and there seem to be many more. The schools are of different stripes. Hard to say how mine is different except that I believe the Singaporean influence is pretty key. It's not an American school, nor even an Indonesian one. I'll leave it at that.

I hope to take a lot of pictures this weekend. Saturday the plan is tour Medan's cultural and religious landmarks, but also to do a little shopping--could be an interesting contrast. We'll see.

It's been a very good week

School is going more easily now, next week should be difficult, in terms of responsibilities as a number of my assignments come due at roughly the same time. This week has been sort of a breeze. I now have two assistants for basketball which, in theory, should make things easier but we have a ways to go. Of the three, I'm the only one whose ever played the game and I didn't play it in any organized fashion.

It is my rule to keep the names and details of my students, associates, and friends out of the blog. I may forget from time to time and let one slip in but I don't feel that it is my right to reveal anything about anyone I may meet just because I want to blog. Having said that, there are a number of schools in Medan, and many Western teachers about though not so many Americans.

Last Friday evening I did meet three Americans, none of whom knew each other, in the course of about an hour. The first I overheard at a table next to mine as I was eating dinner. He turned out to work for the UN and gave me his card. We spoke for a minute, literally, so I feel awkward about calling him, and haven't had time anyway. The other two were what I would call adventurers, and filled with a sort of obnoxious American confidence that made me look for an excuse to get out of the conversation.

They were loading me with advice (both had been here for a year; most of it pretty counter-intuitive, but not all) and it went on and on until finally I said, "Thank you. Can we talk about something else?" The louder one looked taken aback, so I said, "I hear what you're saying, it's just I am receiving a lot of advice and need time to process it." The quieter one said, "you're saturated"; the loud one continued to look at me with an expression that I think was surprise, or outrage so I continued, "Sorry. That was abrupt. I appreciate your advise, and I believe you, but..." The quieter one said, "he's saturated dude. Let's talk about something else." The louder one said, "HEY, I'M an (expletive) American, you don't have to let me save face. I don't care." I said, "I should have expressed myself differently." I then received a lecture on how Americans let things roll of their backs and how Asians always need to save face and that he was an AMERICAN and that I needn't be so diplomatic. I said, "haven't you ever met anyone whose conscientous before?" He said, "I'm an old army seargeant." Does that answer the question, really?

At any rate I'm not going to talk to people just because they're Americans anymore. You'd think I'd have learned that lesson long ago.

Blogging in general

First, the only blogs I generally read are political. There isn't much call for this to be political, and the purpose of this is simply to relay information and anecdotes. If I were in Minneapolis and doing the same thing, nobody would want to read it, unless it were particularly insightful, which it wouldn't be. Even if it were, most people would read it far more ciritically, they'd have information that I don't have, there would be disagreements.

As I'm here and those who read are there, no one is any position to question my perspective. I can tell you this. I don't understand very much. I am wrong constantly. So, whatever I say is a reflection of the degree to which I am processing experiences to a particular point, I will try to correct myself whenever I come across new information or better information.

There is no reason to be afraid to comment. But even if no comments come in, I will continue to blog. It justs helps to be given some direction from time to time. Eventually the experiences that I have had will become mundane. So, I'll just keep traveling.

This weekend, Medan; next weekend Lake Toba

I had been hoping to go to Lake Toba, the Lake everyone in Medan says I must see, this weekend but we were unable to secure a driver, so next weekend. This weekend will be spent trying to see as much Medan's cultural life as possible. I promise pictures. The picture seen here, hopefully, is of a red cross vehicle which in places such as Indonesia, and other Muslim countries of course, includes the crescent.

Last week I tired of waiting for the school drivers to return from delivering the kids home and took a Becak. It is some distance for this form of travel and cost me roughly 20,000 Rupiah (a little more than 2 US dollars). I had my camera with me and the camera is able to record movies but felt that I should not, as that would make me stand out even more than a tall white guy wearing a big hat and dark rimmed glasses already stands out. I later found out from a friend more attuned to life here that she does that all the time. So it may not have seemed as weird to others as I feared.

It is not only whites who get stared at. Singaporeans who are not of Chinese descent stand out and draw attention. They get asked where they are from. One woman asked me to stop so that she could have her picture taken with me. I reluctantly agreed. Many people, especially the Chinese but others, warn about getting too friendly with the locals. The general line is that they are so desperately poor that they will look to any outsider as an opportunity for income. There are stories of people being set up by locals in drug stings--things like someone handing a pack of cigarettes over to some women at a pub, leaving for the night, being stopped by police for selling drugs, protesting that he doesn't have any drugs, and seeing that in his cigarette pack the women had placed some form of narcotic. They do this for money. The cops don't care if it's true. That's the corruption.

All is going well. Now that I have email, I guess I may expect fewer comments, but comments are still encouraged. Questions give me something to write about. I start to wonder if I have anything new to say as I grow accustomed to this place. The weekend should offer some ideas.