4 weeks, 13 themes. Plus a contract extension.

This is me procrastinating. The thing is that I’ve been going-going-going for 4 weeks now and I’ve just hit a point where I’m like: f this sh. I’m run out of steam, am running on empty, hit a wall, etc.

The good news is that if I can just push through the next 6 days, I get time off like a real person would around the holidays without the accompanying stress of not knowing whether or not I’m employed: I am, for at least 90 more days of work between Jan 1 and June 30.

(How that went down: I freaked out. Thought I had to prepare this big report with the main purpose of impressing my boss before I could ask for an extension. Worked frantically for 5 days to get said report written and perfected. Sent it to him with the subject line "contract - timing?"

 Him: "Saw that you emailed me. Haven't opened it, much less the attached report. Come watch me eat a sandwich and talk at me."

 Me: “Um. I have a meeting.... um. OK." (follow him out to the patio, awkward interlude in which he spills water on me and about 5 people jump in to help clean up while I stand there with wet pants.) "So, yeah, my contract ends at the end of the month. If I fly home then I can’t afford to come back.”

Him: “Sorry about the water. Why don’t we extend your contract for the rest of the days possible this fiscal year? What do you want to work on?”

Me: “No worries, it's just water. Keeps ya cool. So here’s the itemized list of reasons for why you should keep me on… Wait. What?”

Him: “OK OK just write it up, we’ll get it approved.”

Me: “Wait. What?”

Him: “Yes that all sounds good. Would you like some coffee? I promise not to spill.”

Me: “Wait. What?"*

As per the terms that he had me draft for myself, I will basically be summarizing the “gender work” done by the office to date and identifying key areas and potential strategies for the next “gender specialist” to work on. The next “gender specialist” hopefully being me, pending the application review process under way, at which point I will have to stop rolling my eyes at the term.)

As for the rest of my past month, I have

ONE:

Planned and prepped and gone on a 2-week trip to the island of Lombok, West Nusa Tenggara and the provinces of Batang, Pemalang, and Semarang in Central Java. Which was basically 12 days straight of 9 – 7 interviewing and running focus groups in Indonesian aka tiiiiiiring. And of course to add to the fun I contracted the requisite running nose/runny ass by day 7. But of course everything was super interesting and way more fulfilling and enlightening than any amount of time sitting among development people in Jakarta. (Fully owning that I am now officially one of said people.)

I wish I had pretty pictures to share but my slide show from the trip is made up almost exclusively of me posing with (read: towering over) Indonesian community activists, community leaders, and/or government officials. There are a couple of me “in action” interviewing the activists/leaders/officials, which are pretty amusing but for a different venue. Other than that, all I have is one or two shots that didn’t turn out of a sunset over the beach behind the Lombok Holiday Inn, where I was put up for work for a couple nights after spending the first half of my week in Lombok as a guest of the field staff for the NGO that I continue to be partnered with. I also celebrated my Thanksgiving at the Holiday Inn, with an overpriced glass of nail polish remover wine and an overcooked Real American Beef Burger.

TWO:

Written my job application to be a gender specialist for the branch office with which I work of the major development agency contracting me. The exercise started out along the lines of the good old game where you add “in bed” to everything you say, except that I was adding “with a particular focus on women,” and that I actually realized along the way that its not stretching to say that I have done a fair amount that qualifies me as a gender specialist. Which is exciting.

Having THREE, submitted an application more recently to be on a consultant roster with another large development agency, I realized that I also qualify as a “community empowerment,” “exclusion/equity,” and “activity design” specialist. Or that I can make a solid case that I am, its not like I’ve been hired yet, but still, who knew?

FOUR:

Frantically written the report regarding my field trip aimed at keeping myself employed by impressing my boss and others with my productivity, insight, and general worthiness as an employee, and

FIVE:

Frantically tried to remind everyone and anyone I could think of that my contract was ending and gently/frantically tried to coax them to do something about it.

 (See above on how 4 & 5 played out with my boss; leading to SIX and SEVEN preparing my terms of reference and trying to usher through all the administrative rigamarole that needs doing with a change of plans as well as administrative rigamarole associated with attending an event outside Jakarta this coming week. Administrative rigamarole was a good three days of my time this week. Which is bullshit. But whatever. Welcome to the bureaucracy.)

EIGHT:

Been sous chef for my new office bff-slash-future boss as she cooked 15 people 3 curries and an Egyptian toasted nuts and seeds appetizer from scratch. (Good shit. I made a crumble. And someone brought wine; always exciting in the ever-challenging alcohol environment here.)

NINE:

Three dinners (as in, “let’s do”), two lunches, three coffees; a brunch which turned into a day in an alcoholic fog and some pool time; dim sum; three happy hours, one of which turned into a weekend of girl time including a viewing of the entire series of Downton Abbey, which you should watch immediately; the most amazing pork dumplings ever at this hole in the wall with Mickey Mouse décor; and a high tea featuring chocolate martinis at the hotel that claims to have invented them.

TEN:

Participated in a day-long workshop at a fancy hotel.

ELEVEN:

Moved from my uncle’s to a lovely house down the road, shared with an English business consultant and a language school manager from Wyoming (a married couple) and a journalist from Ohio; I have the roomy attic sitting room+bedroom to myself. $450/month includes maid services. My roommates are quite lovely as is the house and garden. Pictures to follow I promise….

TWELVE:

We hosted a Christmas party last night, or I should say, they hosted a Christmas party to which I contributed a case of beer and some tonic water. Cookies were eaten, punch was drunk, my team kicked the other teams’ asses on the Christmas trivia.

THIRTEEN:

Spent today working a tidge on my four-hour long presentation in Indonesian that I have to distribute by Tuesday and give on Thursday, but mostly on procrastinating on that work, including by spending $170 at the grocery store stocking up my new pantry and attending a graduate school alumni social…

…And by writing this blog. I hope it makes you happy, Mom. I promise to update more regularly in 2012, the problem being -- with my new office-based job and settled down routine in which I will no longer by trying frantically to figure out the rules, the players, and how to stay employed -- that I will have much less of substance to report on.

You can read my policy briefs any time, though, just say the word.

Love you

M

*This is not a totally accurate recreation of the conversation.

Packing list

Hi!

I wrote the ramblings below at the end of my crazy round of field trips back in April/May/June meaning to clean it up and post it, but never did.

At the moment I'm getting ready for a 2-week trip -- half in and around Mataram, NTB and half in and around Semarang, Central Java (Mom if you look these places up and find any helpful links pass them on) --  I have an incredible amount to do to feel ready for the trip, and am incredibly pressed for time, and have my usual travel/performance jitters mixed in with that. In other words, I'm a mess, and lists calm me, so I revisited this and found myself incredibly glad I wrote it all down, and thought that you might find it an amusing insight into what I call work these days.

More later when I'm back from The Field.

Love you all, miss you
M

---

For the field, wear Chaco flip flops but bring an extra pair of Rp.10,000 ones too. (You’ll want them for the bathrooms.) Cheap black ballet flats that squish easily, in case of any government office visits. (But otherwise – Chaco flip flops. You’ll take them off at the door anyway.)  

Bring your sarong, always. Usually it serves as a sheet, but if you end up with time for the beach, or need to wander out and aren’t quite covered enough in your pj’s, you’re ready. A towel; there won’t be one provided (or if there is, in a million years, you don’t want it anywhere near your body.)

Headlamp. 

Eye mask. 

A Kindle and more specifically, a cover for it with a built in light is one of the more brilliant purchases you’ve made. 

Mosquito repellent wipes and stick sunblock are nice if you aren’t going for long, otherwise bring the big bottles - Indonesian airports don't limit liquid carry on and you will go through that stuff.

TP in a ziplock bag, with the cardboard removed (packs down, plus you can stuff money in the middle); plus a small plastic bag you can use for the used TP --- put that in the ziplock with the TP. 

You’ll need to bring a lot of cash, credit cards are not an option, and ATM’s often aren’t either, so get creative about splitting it up – stuffed in the TP roll, folded into underwear, etc. 

Enough button up shirts and undies to make it a couple days without laundry (but plan to do laundry. Factor in laundry when figuring out what size shampoo to bring.) A tank with a shelf bra is good for after your nighttime bath as long as you have something to wear over it. Your usual selection of dress-up dress-down practical boring linen and cotton pants. You will not look cute at any point in the trip. The goal is not to offend anyone and have half a chance of sitting on floors in rooms without fans for hours on end without fainting. Have a specific outfit for evenings...post-sundown post-afternoon bath lower-sweat-ratio casual interactions... no govt officials to be seen.

Soap in a little self-draining case is a nice idea, pack it up in a ziplock with your shampoo-slash-laundry soap, and pack all your toiltries into one plastic shopping bag to cart to and from the bathroom where you can hang it on the door (just make sure that you can hang it over a door hook as you won’t always have someplace to rest it. the floor is usually questionable and always wet.) Don’t bother with conditioner, or, if you can find it, bring 2-in-1 shampoo. 

Hand sanitizer. Hand wipes.

Don’t bother with the water bottle, most of the time you’ll have to grit your teeth and buy small bottles of drinking water anyway. 

Sweat rag (ie bandana). 

More notebook space than you think you need and plenty of back-up pens, and of course markers and tape and butcher paper. Blank receipts and an envelope for anything you might possibly need to submit with your expense report. Plenty of business cards, and just in case you have to register with the police, an official(-looking) letter of introduction and some passport photos. A copy or 2 of your passport and visa (leave your actual passport and visa safe at home in Jkt). 

Pack your swimsuit and goggles and have things in mind to wear over it, preferably of the knee and elbow length variety, on the off chance you do get a chance to go to the beach.

Some dried fruit, almonds, oatmeal, snack bars are good to have but can get cut if there’s no room. A small packet of Indonesian-style coffee (think Turkish) is a good idea (chocolate-covered espresso beans might be something to consider importing in the future. Non-instant non-disgustingly weak and sweet coffee is sadly hard to find, considering.) 

Lots and lots and lots and lots of Pepto Bismol plus something stronger for just in case. 

Tear the relevant pages out of Lonely Planet in case you find yourself with an extra night somewhere and get a chance to actually look around and/or find a beer and non-rice based meal (plus the background information and maps are a decent overview). 

Do not bother with jewlry (other than a watch, a watch is good) and definitely not with make up. 

Bring a nail … what are those things called? that help you dig dirt out of you toenails? You’ll need that. 

Recommended to pack it all in a backpack and to keep it small as you may have to ride an ojek around with all your possessions. With that in mind – dry bags or plastic bags for your electronics and your notebooks. Yes, bring a computer. And your camera, maybe your voice recorder, cell phone, and thumb drive modem. But don't count on regular electricity or cell signal.

3 weeks back.

Hi everyone

I have been back in Indonesia for 3 weeks now. Crazy how time flies when you aren’t sitting at home being jerked around by constantly changing departure dates and no structure to your day.

Pretty much if you’re one of the 3 people reading this you know the deal but for posterity’s sake: I was back in the US from early June, was supposed to be until early September, but that got pushed back (and forth and back). “Family reasons” is the generic explanation I use, and in addition I ended up taking Indonesian classes, and going to a lot of weddings. It was an incredibly, incredibly, incredibly intense few months – very busy and very full of extreme emotions along every degree of the spectrum. I am very grateful I was able to be home for both the good and the bad and the classes, and very grateful that those months are behind me.

The “exciting” things that I have to report since being back are slight pathetic, really, but you love me so you’ll go with it – I have a desk! Go to the office 9-5 (ish)! Have projects and assignments with clear goals and end points (you know, “ish”)! Go to happy hours and after-work dinners!

Basically I’m finishing up my old contract, by (1) writing up my findings about the NGO that I was partnered with and trying to analyze them in terms of how they might be useful to other programs, plus (2) supporting impementaiton of the management recommendations I’d made, or at least I am in as much as that’s possible in 2 month. For a variety of reasons, not least because people high up expected it and “want me for other things” (professional) and because the commute is infinitely less horrendous (personal) and because the office is quiet and calm enough that I can actually sit and write (both), I’m only going to the NGO office occasionally and am mostly based at the office of the funder contracting me.

(Yes, my contract is still only through the end of the year. So there’s that hanging over my head. But it does seem something will work out. ????? ….. I’ll keep you posted as ever.)

Also I went to Bali for a long weekend with Katie and our other language school buddy. We got sunburned, walked around with our legs and shoulders showing, went a drag show dinner revue, and watched a lot of E! Entertainment television. (Having seen Kim’s Fairy Tale wedding I was shocked – shocked! – to learn more recently that K&K are getting a divorce.)

I have been staying with my uncle but am house-sitting again for the embassy people for a couple weeks. Their cat has chilled out considerably but now has a little brother that is only slight less neurotic than Jambu used to be. They make me laugh, which is nice. The pool and the gym downstairs don’t hurt nor the fact that I am a 4-minute walk away from my office.

I came back determined to exercise regularly and have had some success. I’ve walked the hour 15 from my uncle’s to the office a couple times – hot & sweaty & carcinogenic but felt good nonetheless. I’ve also joined ultimate Frisbee (by which I mean I’ve gone once) but it was fun if also h&s&c and I wasn’t the worst player on the field so I’ll go back (by which I mean I’ll think about it a lot for sure.)

That's about it.

Love you

M

MalUt

So I'm dating this from when I should have written it though I am not actually posting until early 2013. Anyway this is adapted from my field journal the time and although I reference in "later" posts to need to write this one, I do want to keep these things somewhat chronological. Just an FYI. 

In June 2011 I took one last field trip for inputs into my study (or whatever it is we want to call it) with the NGO that I was brought to Indonesia to work with. I had already gone to Aceh mainly because the opportunity came about and I needed the kick in the butt to get out of Jakarta, NTT because it was seen as the “best” region for the program – North Maluku (or Malut) was seen as the “worst” and my task was the understand the reasons for the difference. (In short: social context. lucky staffing in NTT. cultural attitudes of the national staff.)

There’s a lot to say about the history and economy of the region which I’ll let you read about on your own, but one of the key ones that stuck out for me was the murderous sectarian violence in the late 90s/early 00s nominally between Christians and Muslims. The mental image of piles of dead bodies and camps for displaced people is hard to reconcile because today people don’t reference it, and make a point to talk about how everyone gets along. And of course there’s no monument or museum. But villages are segregated and there is none of the conscious acknowledgement of other’s religion that I saw in NTT.

June 1. Malifut

I suppose a day when you leave the house and get on a plane and are halfway to another island before sun up is bound to feel long. With the one male program manager in the NGO I’m working with, I flew to Ternate, a small island off the coast of the much larger Halmahera and the capital of the North Maluku province, via the city of Manado. He’s here to make arrangements for a provincial conference in a few weeks, I’m here to learn about what works and what doesn’t in the province that is considered the least well-performing of the NGOs prgramming areas.

After some interviews in Ternate, we then arranged a boat ride across the channel to Halmahera. The boat was essentially a souped-up wooden rowboat with a motor attached and a section with walls and a roof that I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to be trapped in when we stalled due to a stick getting caught in the motor and when the waves started to get about as big as the boat towards the end of the passage. After eating at the serviceable dingy restaurant at the port in Sofifi, Adi arranged seats for us in a pay-per-seat jeep with a driver that turned out to be hell on wheels and a the agricultural extension agent Along the way, we picked up a pair of gold miners on the side of the road.

Eventually we arrived more or less unscathed to the home of one of the community leaders for the NGO and had a bit of a visit, eating friend banana and drinking tea as one does. We also needed to make various arrangements including a rental car which was taken care of Indonesian style which is to say a few hints were dropped, a bit more tea drunk, a few more bananas pressed on us and suddenly a plan for the week was in place and the neighbor showed up ready to talk price of serving as our driver for the week. That conversation proceeded in a similarly restrained and subtle manner and ultimately we got the car and driver for about $50/day plus gas, compared to the $120 we would have paid had the travel agent made the arrangements remotely. While I do appreciate the availability of public information like we roll in the US, once you’re tapped in here, one connection and a few dropped hints can move mountains.

So having gone from central Jakarta to the airport (car) to Manado (plane) to Ternate (plane) to Sofifi (boat) to Malifut (car) I’m now hanging in our reasonably clean and comfortable hostel on the second floor above a shop, with the electricity going on an off and a minor need to pee but little desire to walk back out there to the shared bathroom with my flashlight and toilet paper in hand.

June 2. Malifut.

After a delayed start to the day in which I kept our Ibu-ibu escorts waiting, mistakenly thinking we were only 1 hour different from Jakarta here, today was another 4-in-1-er.

The packed days on these field trips are rife with various sorts of stress. On the one hand, they are in part driven by my panicked drive to talk to everyone whom I possibly can, to arrive at that moment of clarity that I “get” what’s going on and can explain it in my own words – the moment that I’m always convinced will not arrive. But then between early mornings, late nights and the need to eat and sleep I don’t have time to enter field notes or really process all of the information that I’m trying to suck in. So there’s almost an existensial tension underlying the whole thing too – what is the point of all this use of time and resources? (The North Maluku trip will ultimately direcrtly cost the funder $3000 for a 4 day trip including my fee): Just so that I can arrive at a moment of clarity?

Existential underpinnings or not, we did 3 interviews and a group discussion by lunchtime. Battered fried shrimp were nice and the place we ate was clean with clean bathrooms - but it was unmistakably the closest thing to a truck stop in a place with not many trucks. Despite the good food and clean facilities, the place crept me out a bit. Maybe the overly powdered ladies floating around hanging on the drivers who bring in their customers. Also reminds me of long distance bus trips in Bolivia.

After a couple other interviews around town, we made a failed attempt to get to a village that has a women’s group but that has lost touch with the NGO and the local leaders – cell phone access is spotty here and the roads are bad; we eventually had to turn around because of the road. We redirected ourself to another such village. It was straight out of Garcia Marquez, this lost village that never sees outsiders, a small flat orderly place surrounded by jungle and centered around a church with a big cross next to a soccer field where the entire village was congregated when we arrived, children running in and out of the crowd and women gossiping on the sidelines. Of course we arrived at the magic light of the afternoon that made all of the bright tropical colors brighter and yet more dreamy.

The discussion we had pretty well threw that romantic vision to the ground and stomped on in with steel toed boots, however. The women were cowed and whiny, probably thinking we were there to collect the money they’d used as seed money and not returned, and only got worse when they realized I actually just wanted to talk to them about what had gone wrong because they thought it was an opportunity to ask me for things. When I tried to generally about women’s lives in the village, a random man who had wandered in to watch the bule hijacked the conversation at which point I may have literally thrown up my hands and we hightailed it back out.

After that little misadventure, we had a quick rest, shower, fried chicken dinner next to the hostel, and one more relatively smooth and uneventful group discussion back at the home of the women where we had stopped the first night.

June 3, Tobelo – the big city....

GodDAMN I wish I had a beer right now. Apparently it’s available enough that the rather pleasant – by which I mean clean bathrooms and a  friendly staff – motel that we’re now has signs posted saying that guests aren’t allowed to drink “hard drinks” in their rooms. But besides the signage I’m not quite ready to risk the silent judgement from Mas Adi and Pak Darno, my friendly male sidekicks for this jaunt.

Today started out at the Center the women had built in Malifut (one big room, cement floor, adobe brick walls, tin roof, outhouse, mats unrolled for the floor for seating when there are people to sit, no electricty yet except for the generator rented for the meeting today) for a meeting led by Mas Adi and some group discussions and individual interviews with me. The group discussion veered close to disaster on a number of occasions, not totally surprising given that I decided as I went how to facilitate, but toward the end we hit a critical sweet spot and heads were nodding and there was a feeling of having arrived at something in the air.

After lunch I took a little walk up and down the road in front of the Center. Weird place. Can’t tell what here reminds me of. A combination of every rural tropical place I’ve been, kind of. The flatness and space weirds me out a litttle. But the cows and skinny little goats and hibiscus and coconut trees, comforting.

Then we drove here, a relatively “urban” area a bit farther north, I interviewed Mas Adi along the way, lovely man, and we set up here, found internet, found some amazing grilled chicken for dinner, settled in, doing these notes in my room. Without beer. 

June 4. Tobelo.

Almost midnight. I do have some good notes from today, I should actually have time tomorrow to go over them... Famous last words: another lesson. I thought tonight was going to be an early bedtime.

Today we headed out to the rural area outside the “city” to Galela starting with a breakfast of yellow rice, and real coffee. So, so good. Had a focus group combining two savings and loans groups, one Muslim women and one Christian. Went fine. They served snacks I’ve only seen in Halmahera, donuts smeared with butter and chocolate sprinkles. In theory a great idea but these are not the best of donuts and the buter is actually crap margerine. Then on to an interview on somebody’s front porch (houses here are mostly cement, 1 story, a few rooms, a porch, a front room, the older ones tend to be overwhelmed with greenery and painted pastel colors), then to “tourist site,” which was a park overlooking a lake with some little gazebos scattered about with benches and tables. Definitely the best location I’ve held focus groups in to date, and oddly people were actually out and strolling and seemingly enjoying the fresh air.

Lunch was back in Galela -- grilled fish which was fine; it was nice that there was boiled green bananas and casava – not just rice (most Javanese people would not agree with me on this point) . A few other interviews, a debrief with Adi, sate dinner – always good - then to buy jewelry, which is apparently “the” oleh-oleh from here since they scavenge downed American World War II planes on Morotai, one island over, for the tin. Most of it tacky as hell. More talking and now here I am.

June 5. South Galela.

Totally dig this little guest house, with its view over a lake – other than the fact someone could really just climb into my room if they wanted. Obviously I booby trapped it.

OK, so much for thinking today was a light day. (Why did I think that? Why do I persist in having these sorts of fantasies?)

Breakfast: butter donut. No better in execution than those served at prior events.

Lunch: Fried chicken in the big a roadside shack situation. Yum.

Dinner: Instant noodles. This is not what it sound like; what they do to dress up instant ramen in this country seriously rocks my world. A whole egg, crunchy fried onions, some green herb floating around. Seriously good shit. My siblings would have deeply appreciate it.

And in between a bunch of interviews, etc. including with the female local head of the subdistrict whose living room was filled with the overstuffed furniture and doilies I’ve come to expect at the homes of minor functionaries (compared to the worn upholstered or wooden or plastic furntiure, or floor mats, in other houses), and with a group of women whose regular meeting place is under the big tree in the front yard. This group is more “urban,” said tree is right on a busy city street and across from a big mosque and they were a fun bunch, a good way to end the trip after most of the people who wouldn’t meet my eyes and didn’t really want to talk to me because of their bad experiences or their expectation that I was there to take back the money they had “borrowed” without returning it. Another interview was with a woman who had had a terrible experience but who was refreshingly willing to talk about it, in her house that was reachable by walking through back country dirt paths and surrounded by trees.

June 6. Back in Jakarta

All done, made it through. Trip home was hilarious, backwater little airport only not more overwhelmingly chaotic because no more than 50 passengers could really be passing through any given time. Eventually got myself on my puddle jumper and had a bit of time to drive around Ternate before reversing my route back to Jakarta in time for my birthday party and trip back to the US.

Maluku Utara - long overdue and coming soon!

I was in Maluku Utara for 7 days and then had a rather memorable birthday dinner back in Jakarta. And then I got straight on a plane home for Intense Summer v.2011, so I never wrote about either. I want to. I will. Sometime soon. xo M

Private island.

I don't know if everyone is like this, but occasionally I find that getting "out" of whatever the usual is - and I mean physically away, not just zoning out in front of the TV (granted, I do plenty of that given the time and DVD sets) or breaking routine with a new restaurant (I also do as much of possible of this), or whatever - and, i mean for a vacation, not for a nonstop hectic work trip with "goals" and an "itinerary" - even if it's just for 36 hours, and even if you have to do some work and think about your work frustrations while away,* and even if you get seasick and, on the way there on top of the seasickness, have a touch of food poisoning or salmonella or botulism or something from the chocolate chip cookie dough you ate while making a hostess gift for the lovely friends of your uncle who hosted the weekend (so can't eat or drink anything, despite the free flowing food, wine, and liquor, until day 2), even then, it makes such a difference for one's feelings of calm, self-efficacy, and optimism.


http://www.kaliage.co.id/kaliage_kecil.html

It was just like it says, except, no croissants. One of the hosts and most of the guests were Indonesian, so, rice. There was toast too though, that was nice.

Also, I realized that exactly a year ago today I was on a private island off the coast of Belize as part of the pre-wedding festivities of some very dear friends. Their 1st wedding anniversary is May 30th - happy anniversary, you two! You know who you are.

A private island per year seems like a pretty decent average and I'm committing now to maintaining or increasing that average in the future.

Love you,
M

*it's fine, i am a trained social worker, i have handled other people's delusions before --- and, that time, the post office was out to get her and a blue angel was talking at him from the ceiling. a garden variety inflated ego's got nothing on me. (see how confident i sound after my little get away?)

NTT was sort of magical.

Hello there

I got back from NTT a week ago though I still haven’t "processed" (air quotations) the trip  - I went straight from it into a training in Jakarta, in which I led a 4 hour closed-door reflection session/focus group with the 7 regional coordinators and a 9 hour workshop for them and the program coordinators on program planning, fundraising, and proposal writing, in Indonesian (none of which I felt prepared for although I busted my ass that week to be prepared enough to fake the rest). Oh and scrambling to finish a $2.5 million proposal whose May 20th deadline I was informed of on May 18th.

Then on to a busy weekend, kicked off by a visit with some office mates to a water park - think lazy river and water slides. I was a bit skeptical but had a lot of fun especially after I understood that not only was it fine that all I had to wear were running pants and a men’s undershirt, I would have been glaringly inappropriate in anything much more revealing. I'm sure my itchy skin today has nothing to do with the state of sanitation at the water park. I'm positive. Total 100% confidence.

But anyway, for the almost 2 weeks before the training I was in the province of NTT, Nusa Tenggara Timur, which translates to East Southeast Islands. (Obviously.) More specifically, I was on Adonara, which is its own island seperate from the island of Flores - yet still part of the district of East Flores. (OB-viously.)

 

Look Adonara up quickly.... Oh wait, there’s like no information about Adonara anywhere. Including in Adonara itself, apparently; I went on a Rp.50,000 motorcycle special mission to one of the government offices in the big town on Waiwerang to see the map of Adonara that was apparently the only available on the island and found the map at right. 

What I can tell you is Adonara is maybe 20 x 20 miles (that's a pretty rough guess) and has a population of 20,000 - I feel like that's from Wikipedia. Its population is about 50% Catholic, 25% Muslum, and 25% Protestant - but 100% (or 99% - there are some people who married in from other places who live there) of the Lamahalot ethnic group, which identity supercedes the religious ones by a long shot. Economy based on fishing and agriculture (that's my guess anyway); tightly bound though partriarchal communities in which male hereditary customary leaders still hold a lot of away, along with the elected village and subdistrict leaders and religious leaders. Education outcomes are pretty low especially for girls- the outliers make it to high school and even making it to middle school is noteworthy. Housing ranges from bamboo walls and dirt floors, to full whitewashed brick, with half-brick half-bamboo and/or cement floors in the middle. Its a big deal to have a bathroom and cooking is done over a wood fire. Food is not traditionally rice based but Suharto f'ed that up pretty good so now the staple food is rice mixed with corn and occasionally root starches - and fish.

dinner at one of the Center



cooking



 Other than the utimately misguided map venture, the trip was a smashing success. Not that I went into it with particular expectations or standards, but I learned a lot about myself, the organization’s model, strengths, and weaknesses, and the area; benefited the local program according to the participants and staff – by my mere presence (foreigner; white) and by leading reflection processes with various parts of the organization as part of my research, connected with some dear and inspiring people; and enjoyed myself besides. All in all I think that qualifies the trip as a success, right?

Oh and I  spoke nothing but Indonesian to whole time including while running focus groups for up to 44 people and interviewing government officials and religious and customary leaders... Half the time it had to be translated in the local language by someone who understood my version of Indonesian, and back again – so that was really fun for everyone – but still.

The main personal lessons were the following: 1) I loved the sort of immersion field research I was doing and quite possibly have a knack for it. 2) Do bring hand sanitizer, lots of it, to the field. 3) Even fresh- from-the-sea grilled fish gets old after the 12th meal in a row.

The main research lessons, I haven’t quite sorted out yet, but a few initial ones are that 1) although the NTT program overall is cited as a “success story” for my organization the "success" there compared to other regions is due mostly to the cohesive and engaged social structures and community self-help mechanisms that existed in the area well before any program plopped in, rather than to anything the organization has done and 2) in fact, it's one particular subdistrict within NTT that is exeptional compared to other parts of the country in terms of its level of broader community mobilization and impacts and grassroots-driven activities above and beyond savings and loans, and that difference rests mostly on the field staff member who supports activities in that subdistrict and her exceptional creativity, initiative, dedication, and longevity. (And when I say she's exceptional, I mean, out-of-this-world amazing since really I haven't met a field staff member yet who isn't exceptional, and I just spent 13 hours in training sessions plus meals and bedtime with 7 out of 19 of them.)

What did I actually do to arrive at these conclusisions, though, you’re asking yourself? As I’m feeling lazy and have another insane week I am unprepared for starting today I’ll just let you read my daily log from NTT itself.

2 notes of explanation first –

1) a FGD is a focus group discussion, of which I did a bunch with the village level savings and loans group that form the basis for my organization’s program as well as one big one with the corps of "kaders" for NTT  - see below. [These were anywhere from 20-44 people. Actually a proper FGD should be like 8-12 people but I wasn't in a position to be enforcing textbook standards. I asked for groups and the field staff figured out which groups were meeting and that was the way it went.]

2) These groups are supported by “kaders,” which translates as “cadres” but that sounds creepy in English so I’ve decided for my write ups I’m just going to use the Indonesian and explain that “kaders” are members of the program who receive leadership training and also training in specialized priorities areas (eg teaching literacy, DV case advocacy, gender budgeting) and who operate as service providers or activists (ie apply their training – eg teach classes, or work with cases, or advocate to government at budget meetings) on a subdistrict, district, or provincial level – rather than sticking at the village level within the safe confines of their “home” group like most members.


3 Mei.
4:15 am to airport, throw up outside the terminal from taking anti-malarials on an empty stomach, to Kupang, to Maumere. Grilled fish in Maumere with the Jakarta crew. Drive to Larantuka... hang at hotel.



before



after

  



being greeted

4 Mei.
3 day-long Regional Forum starts. I cannot believe this was one day. It feels days and days long. The formal greeting in the a.m.; speeches; in the auditorium endlessly. Nice to be in room of women with their hair showing though – and there’s even legs showing on the street, and arms. Lunch – fish, red rice, pineapple from heaven.


5 Mei.
Another day that already feels like 5, and we have to go back for Cultural Night. Let’s see... up at 6, bit of laundry and a shower (by which I mean mandi, which is essentially a bucket bath and is how most Indonesians bathe, at least outside of Jkt they do), breakfast in my room and stuff – over there at 8. To be changed into a traditional woven sarong that I wore until the rally, obviously. I didn’t look at all ridiculous, especially since I was wearing a shirt that in absolutely no way matched – unlike everyone else who was elegantly matched. ... The special shout out by the chief of the district (“and I’d like the thank the lady from America for joining with us today”) in front of 200 people, and going up on stage for the wife of the governer to ring a gong...akward. Then the dialogues, then the interview w/ the lady from the district-level Women’s Empworment office – a more ironic name was never used, than when “empowerment” is in the name of an Indonesian government office - then the never-ever ending rally through town. Cultural night was amazing. Some Catholic youth ended the evening with country line dancing.

 

`

Cultural Night audience



Line dancing by Catholic youth.













6 Mei.

Writing this from Waiwerang, Adonara after a boat ride in whcih I was half actually seasick and half just wanted to zone out and stare out the window and not be photographed or chatted up. Came straight from the Regional Forum closing ceremonies. ... Led the 200+ ladies in a resounding round of Head Shoulders Knees and Toes as part of it all. ... Tired. Wishing I was in a hotel with a clean bathroom and sheets and the room to myself and control over when I eat and get water. But I’m in someone’s house sharing a room with a staff member and no idea where the bathroom even is much less if I’m going to get dinner tonight or if there’s potable water in the immediate radius. But its just because I’m tired and hot and annoyed about not having a say in what I ride, in the fact that I should have brought my helmet, with myself for bringing so much. Etc. It’ll be fine in the morning if I manage to get any sleep. ....//Later: Sudah mandi, sudah feel much better. [I bathed, I already feel much bettter.]

7 mei.

A.m...shower, breakfast etc (I introduced my colleages to the idea of a rice and avocado combo [they talked about it for more than a week after].) Then pickup ride to one of the women’s centers. (Um. Gorgeous. And I haven’t even seen the beach yet.) Really nice too, you can tell people take pride in it. Walked up the road to get Acqua (SERIOUSLY Indonesia is not good about the tourist thing. Besides the helmet frustration, no one, even Jakarta folks, thought to tell me that I should think about water, no one asked, do you need water? Or thought to say, this is how the bathrooms will be and you’ll share a bed with someone. I don’t particularly mind any of this but its the first time I’ve been anywhere where realizing the foreigner might not get whats up didn’t occur to people.) They call me Bule, or something in the local language, or mister (sometimes, sometimes mrs.) – or suster aka sister aka the title used by nuns here. .. Training today. Felt long, even though it wasn’t particularly. And then the interview from hell (the person couldn't really speak Indonesian very well, but insisted on doing it herself rather than asking 1 person to translate, and I can't really speak Indonesian very well either, and then instead of letting us fumble along peacefully, about 5 people tried to help with translation at once, which mostly meant putting words in her mouth for her answers and her shutting down completely when they start to really annoy her.) But at least  I and of the Jkt staff people, who I used to think didn't like me, are bonding of sorts. What with sharing a bed and hanging our undies next to each other to dry after washing.

8 mei.
To the beach in the morning. Feeling like I have a cold. Fried bananas and coffee aka sugar water for breakfast. Delicious though, all of it, including the beach. ... Training in the a.m., lunch, then to monitoring/focus group 1. ... What happened then? I think it was just a looong night of not much – some chatting/follow up with staff...

9 mei.
Up the mountain, focus group there. Gorgeous scenery, scary as hell ojek experience – no one’s fault, although I wished he wouldn’t keep trying to converse with me, but that’s one steep slope... Lunch up there. Totally can’t remember what I did after that, I think just worked on re-packing and typing up my notes so I could do follow up. Then interview with a customary village head. Then to bed eventually.

10 Mei.

Now this is a 5-in-one day for sure. Let’s see – up at 5:30 – to the white sand beach (lurrrrrvely) –debrief with a leader of the group from yesterday who wasn’t at the focus group, who has evolved into a leader on a subdistrict level; she cried because of the things the group said about why she has been able to take a leadership role (as in, what’s the secret – what factors allow her to do it as opposed to other women?). I’m quite sure they were tears because she was touched not because the group doesn’t like her but I probably should have confirmed my vocabulary first to make sure.... Then to the island’s other Center, then to another focus group [so annoyed on so many levels by that experience I can’t even express it properly right now. Long story short the buck stops with the kaders in terms of training reaching the group level. And the kaders REALLY need some training and direction in terms of providing group support and in facilitation.] .. then the village head, blah blah blah, then the village muslim leader and his wife – actually a pleasant interview, I was as fumbly as ever but I like him, not least because I like her and they seem pretty on equal footing based on the brief interaction.... All the meantime I’m constipated diarrheal and have an awful cold and having to shake everyone’s germy hand (Adonara? Not big on soap) and drink sugary nonpotable tea and eat what’s put in front of me or risk not properly menghormati-ing (honoring) everyone.

11Mei.
My internet worked! For about 10 minutes but still. ... Debrief the awful FGD from yesterday, then to subdistrict official office here and in Ile Boleng. The ojek driver who was hired for me for the day was warned multiple times this morning to be “sopan” (polite) and slow since foreigners are delicate flowers so he went about 15 miles an hour for most of the back and forth. (STILL hilarious, that.) - lunch in IB - eggplant, NOODLES!, egg... subdistrict office IB. RAIN oh my gosh. Interviewed some kaders and staff while hanging out waiting for the deluge to pass.... Back to the other center, to interview the priest [the candles along the path – Adonara is magical in these little ways, the graves mixed up with the houses, and always lit up somberly at night.] ... Back to Center to hang, tired tired tired.


12 Mei.
To the morning market. Bought too many weavings because I got one as a gift from a staff members’ mother who sells them at the market and then felt obligated plus...gorgeous stuff. Day at the Center– long interview with the regional coordinatory, then straight into a FGD with the entire body of kaders. It was hot and I was exhausted but I went hammy and they loved it. Then interviews, then, oof, deflated. What else that night? I did some typing,everyone else was passed out by 7”30 or 8.

13 Mei.
Apa ya? (What huh?) ... To a group FGD, in their little Center: one of the ladies gave me a gift of toothpicks, which she makes to sell. Then to the other groups in theeeeir little Center – really didn’t feel like it much but they were waiting (at least some of them were, based on the enthusiasm level I’d say not everyone cared all that much. ) Then fool’s errand to Waiywerang – um. Who thought that was a map and why was it up on the wall. It looked like someone’s unfinished middle school social studies project. Anyhoo. Back to home base, some study-buddying with the coordinator (fried dough! And coffee!), dinner, and then a debrief convo with her and neverending packing and one last shower and finally bed.


14 Mei.
Up just in time (ha – we left 2 hours later) ... breakfast, awkward paying for my place to stay/consumption (Adonara-ese are more akward about talking about money than my mother’s family is, and that’s pretty bad), buying even more sarongs... the women make them together in their groups and then sell them at the centers, including some from homespun and died thread - and then being given a sarong on top of it. Endless pick-up trip ride to the quick boat – still love being in the back...Ice Ice Baby driving through the bamboo. 

The quick boat, and a chicken tied to a motorcycle. To Larantuka where I discovered I had totally misunderstood the point of the political candidates “vision and mission” meeting (I thought the women I work with were giving them a training – but instead they’d been given dispensation to sit in the district government parking lot to listen to 3 hours of speeches via closed circuit tv) and that - under no uncertain terms - I had no desire to be there then under the miday sun listening to the candidates babble on. But I kept a little busy with ideas for the workshop next week and a proposal outline and tried to keep my cool (figuratively, I mean. There was no way to literally keep cool...Full sun at noon. What genius scheduled this thing?) Then lunch – chicken and rice, yummy, and I got the Coke I’d been craving since about the 5th, though the sambal was so spicy it sort of ruined it. Then “my” driver took us to the airport, and my new friends played Uno with me on the floor of the airport and waved me goodbye as I took off in the 16 seater plane.

Writing this in the plane while half watching the islands go by underneath me. I don’t feel anything in particular right right now, but I was sad to leave. I genuinely enjoyed everyone’s company, like for real, not ‘cause they’re very welcoming (although – incredibly so) and because I have to be gracious about being a guest. I would have dug hanging out there more. But. Not to be. Back to reality via Susi Air....

Love you, M

Aceh journal.

Hi there

I’ve been back in Jakarta for over a week though its really hard to say how long it “feels” like I’ve been back. Getting away for awhile from a city like this is always a good thing, and I had a particularly full and enlightening time in Aceh, yet sitting here now in the embassy people’s apartment laughing at their crazy cat, looking out over Jakarta from the 14th floor, it’s like the trip didn’t really happen. Just like when I was there, I couldn’t “feel” my life, such as it is, back in Jakarta. Paradoxically, considering my thoroughly homebody temperament, I’m almost constantly in motion – so I’ve experienced these dislocations plenty of times in the past. 

Anyway, that is far too much deep thinking for a Sunday morning. Let’s just see what I can come up with to share with you…

Purpose and activities: I spent two days observing “monitoring” meetings with grassroots groups and 3 days at a training for adult functional literacy instructors, all in the easy company of 2 national-level staff members of the organization I’m working with. After the training, I headed to a different district to meet up with the provincial coordinator for my organization and the UN-funded researcher she was hosting, spending the remaining 6 or so days involved as part of the UN project team, interviewing government officials and community leaders, various community groups, the community activists/volunteers that my organization trains and supports, and the field staff. My purpose for the whole trip was collecting data for the lessons learned project, as well as to support the research for the UN project.

Oh and also to be interviewed on community radio and record the station id/tagline for one of radio stations run by members of the organization I’m working with. 9 pm and I’d just woken up from sleeping in the car and had no idea what was planned for me….surprise!

Getting there and away: Taxi ride to Jkt airport. ($18.) Jet plane to Banda Aceh. Car and driver (yes he waited at arrivals with a sign with my name on it) during day 1 stops and to the training center in Aceh Jaya. This leg of the journey included 2 separate ferry rides on wooden rafts that would have made Huck Finn proud but which made me escape-plan in my head. Same driver to Abdya after the training to meet with the research team. (Free to me plus $8/day in tips.) Car and driver around Abdya and Meulaboh. 12-seater plane to Medan. (I was in the front row and thus clearly heard an exchange between the pilots and the luggage crew clarifying whether or not there were guns on the plane. The luggage crew assured him there weren’t, not very convincingly if you ask me. … Um. The principle mystery here is, what made the pilot ask in the first place?) Jet to Jakarta, taxi home.

 

The scenery: Aceh is stunning. Pristine beaches, lots and lots of green – whether forest or rice paddies - and rivers. Unfortunately the forest is being slashed-and-burned, I saw some areas on my drive between districts that were in the process of being turned into palm plantations – burned stumps and lingering smoke with some green vegetation hanging on among it all, it was hauntingly beautiful if you didn’t know what you were looking at. Mostly what I saw though, had already been turned into rice fields.

Flooding is also a problem; we drove through a town on the way to flight out of Aceh that was underwater just to the depth that I thought we might float away. The buildings are mostly built elevated, but I saw the wake of our car push water into a shop as we passed  - so that only goes so far. I have no doubt my environmentally minded friends would draw a connection between the burning down of the forests and the flooding.

In the “daerah tsunami,” tsunami-affected areas…. unless you knew what to look for, you wouldn’t know that's where you were by looking around. But all the houses are “rumah bantuan” – aid houses – and local people can tell which charity built which house by which color it is painted. And then of course there’s the ship washed 2 miles inland, sitting there still, among a neighborhood of rumah bantuan. And there’s no mangroves left where there should be. And the roads are either dirt tracks or brand spanking new shiny black asphalt. 

The scene: I know the area to be socially conservative, and Sharia law is in place and enforced besides giving weight to community pressures for conformity to a patriarchal view of good behavior. There was a story and pictures in the Aceh paper while we were there about four people being whipped as punishment by the Sharia court for being found alone in the company of someone unrelated of the opposite sex, and we heard stories about community and police harassment when people did something perceived as immoral, and its still considered inappropriate for women to attend meetings at night. There’s no alcohol anywhere to be found (maybe in hotels in Banda Aceh, the capital – or that’s the rumor – but the little remote village and the outpost district capital where I spent my time: none, nary a Bintang beer or Smirnoff Ice in sight.) And women really do all wear headscarves, by legal mandate if they wouldn't be personal or familial choice anyway, and there are many more young girls wearing them in Aceh than anyplace else I’ve seen in Indo, and for the first time I saw an Indonesian woman cover her face, too, not just her hair and neck.

The men “hang out” more than I’ve seen anywhere else in Indo. Not that I’ve been many places but my Jakarta colleagues agreed. Going to the coffee shops (the Aceh coffee is deservedly renowned) is considered a social obligation for men [the concurrent obligation for women is to be at home making them meals and cleaning up after them, of course] and the coffee shops are filled with plastic beach chairs with a reclining back. It’s a come-and-stay-awhile kind of set up.

I in no way mean to discount those very real sociopolitical factors operating in the lives of Aceh people when I say that as an obviously foreign woman, Aceh was much more welcoming than many other places I’ve been that are not majority Muslim, or that are but that have no leanings towards implementing Sharia.  I do want to point it out, though, for any readers that might make assumptions based on the religious make-up and fundamentalist leanings of the Aceh political elite. I never wore a veil and people didn’t blink an eye (above and beyond the usual, that is, considering my blonde-hair-blue-eyed-5 foot 9-ness.) Day to day people were friendly and very welcoming; I didn’t feel that there was suspicion or mistrust of outsiders at least as far as surface level interactions went, and any intrusive male attention was limited to staring. Men and women shook hands, stood close to each other, and spoke freely. For my scratch at the surface, Aceh was chill.

Eats: Aceh food is good. Other than the bread and peanut butter I chose over the hotel rice breakfast during the second part of the trip, and a couple meals of famous and delicious Aceh noodles, and one exceptionally good omelette, it was mostly white rice - but there were fish, shrimp, and squid in various delicious preparations to go with, and spicy sour sauces, and sour pickled eggs, perfect eggplant, green beans, tempe with peanuts, and one memorable fish grill-out the last night of the literacy training that was just fish and an insanely good dipping sauces made with sweet soy, vinegar, hot peppers, shallots, garlic, onion, and tomatoes.

Coincidentally or not, the secret ingredient in Aceh coffee shop coffee and curry sauces is “ganja” – which means exactly what you think it does.

Front of the house

Places to stay: The fish cook out was organized by the same woman who was putting myself and other staff members up in her beach villa, as we only half-jokingly called it. It was exactly like your typical WI lake cabin  - except with a view of the sea, a prayer room being built out back, and mosquito nets over the beds. Hammock hung up in the back room, big long front verandah. Delicious.

View from the back

We broke every day in time for everyone involved with the training to wander to the beach to watch the extravagantly gorgeous sunsets. 

    

 

 Really, in no way did I rough it any point in my stay - first there was the beach villa …. then, the hotel in the district capital I moved to after the training was done. While I thoroughly expected a dirty, airless pit, it had AC, back porches looking out over the rice paddies, and clean bathrooms (!!) with hot water (!!).  

Just the way things are: The only opportunity for discomfort really was all of the sitting on the floor. People don’t “do” chairs here for community-type meetings. I’m getting used to it but I don’t think I’ll ever like it. I haven’t sat on the floor this much since kindergarten and I look like a praying mantis when I try to fold myself up small.

Trying to keep a straight face through some truly epic and memorable burps is possibly another minor hardship – burping sessions, really, no one just burps once, an average session is a good 3-4 minutes long of deep, wet belches. Some of the best were from the head of the Women’s Empowerment bureau in her office during an interview, and by a community activist in the middle of telling a story about confronting government bureaucracy –I mean, whatever, its totally socially acceptable and unnoticed here. Thing is, I’m not from here, those were some seriously noticeable burbs, and I had an English girl 2 butts on the floor over from me trying just as hard not to laugh.

**

Getting deep again, all in all, I was inspired by the women who are doing the work of the organization, both the field staff and their entirely humble quietly fierce approach to their work, and to the women who have developed into activists and community volunteers and are shaking things up in an equally quiet and humble and powerful way. I was awed by what some of the women have lived through and faced. A tsunami the size of some very tall palm trees crashing over their village, washing away their entire family; getting kidnapped and held at gunpoint by rebels who thought they might be government spies when they came to a new village to hold an organizing event; government leaders and entire communities that had no doubt that a child being raped by her grandfather or a young woman with epilepsy being starved and beatan by her parerts were entirely private, domestic affairs – and still carried on with their work.I'm not writing this up for an annual report, this really is true unvarnished reality.

It’s hard to know, in the face of the work they are doing, what I have to offer, but the trip also gave me some ideas and, in getting me out of Jakarta and giving me an opportunity to see the work on the ground and to bounce ideas off the UN researcher, gave me some idea of where to go from here – where I want to go and where I can actually contribute in a way that’s meaningful in some small way. They’re still ideas, half-formed in the back of my mind, but  - I don’t want to jinx anything by actually getting my hopes up but - I’m going to have some conversations soon that might lead to an actual plan, hopefully one that extends at least a year in the future and involves some amount of an actual income. I’ll keep you posted.

Love,

M