December, 2011
The island of Java, Indonesia.
The heavy rains cleared the air and it cooled down the temperature a little bit. I had that feeling again .... here I am again in a moslem country during Christmas time, just like the year before, but different. Last year, My husband and I had celebrated Christmas together with friends and their families in the busy city of Jakarta. There were about 30 of us having lunch at a seafood restaurant that day, and in the evening we gathered once more for Christmas music at Marini's family home. Her nephews who are great musicians entertained us with their piano and violin plays. We all sang Christmas carols. It was one of the nicest Christmas time I have had.
This year,however, ... my husband and I could only celebrate it together in thought and in communication. Thanks to Google Talk that gives us the pleasure of having 24/7 communication without worrying that we will be breaking our wallet. With this, we are constantly connected though the Pacific ocean separates us.
I had made a commitment to bring Rina and her two girls to our house during Christmas holidays. In Indonesia, though the majority of the people embrace Islam, the government observes Christmas as a public holiday, and schools are given a week break. I took this opportunity to bring Rina and the kids from the village to have a "city life". A home with a floor, enough food, clothing, toys, gifts and all..... things they never had. Things they don't imagine could be theirs. It makes me happy to see those eyes brightened with joy.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Friday, April 6, 2012
Gringsing, an unknown town ........
The Town of Gringsing, Java,Indonesia
December 2011
The weekend before Christmas, with my sister and our assistant Wiwien, our driver took us to the town of Gringsing. The goal is tracking down another relative. I began to wonder just how many more out there to be found. I had been fascinated about it, and still am.
With the guidance of another relative (Aunt Ruke) whom we picked up from another town along the way, we drove through hundreds of acres of rice fields which looked like a green carpet. Looking far on the horizon were palm tree tops. The sun was starting to go down, and I could see the orange ball behind the palm trees creating picturesque silhouette. On the right side of the road was a small creek. I asked the driver to stop and I rolled my windows down to hear the sound of the creek. For a moment everyone stopped talking to enjoy the serenity.
We drove another kilometer or so and started entering a residential area, passing by a mosque and arrived in front of a single story building with several doors, and soon I could see that the building is sectioned into several units, similar to a temporary military camp. A young handsome man who looked like he was in his early 20s came out on his motorcycle and greeted us. He recognized aunt Ru and regarded her as his grandma. I heard aunt Ru called him Kok. After just a few words of greeting and introduction, everybody in the building started to come out and there were more friendly greetings and introduction. Then Kok's father appeared. His name is Mudjiman. A man in his 50s who had once been married to aunt Ru's oldest daughter, until she died 5 years ago. They had four children. Mudjiman remarried and his new wife brought a son from her previous marriage.
As we were guided to walk towards their unit and were passing by each unit, I took several glances through the open doors ...... as though our host read my mind, Mudjiman said "This building used to be an elementary school." Several years ago the local government decided it was time to build a bigger school on the adjacent property and designated the old school for low-income and no-income housing. The government let several families occupy the classrooms as their living quarters for nothing.
One classroom per family. There were five of them. The unit where Mudjiman occupies has been divided into smaller rooms/cubicles to put mini beds, kitchen, and sitting room. Unlike most men, Mudjiman does not work the farm, but he makes manual farming tools such as shovels, sickles, etc. He barely has enough money to pay for his youngest son's high school tuition. In fact, Irawan who is graduating in a few months, was not allowed to take home the report card for the past semester because he had not paid his tuition for 3 months. When he came out and brought the tea tray to the table, I asked him to sit with us. I asked him what he wanted to do after he graduates and his answer was firm: "Working in a restaurant as a waiter". I don't see any restaurant in this tiny town. I later on found out that it wasn't his dream. He just doesn't know what else to do. No money for further education, no skills to get a good job. No one to reach out to.
The five families share one and only community bath and toilet. If each unit is occupied by a family of four, that bathroom/toilet is shared by 20 people. The bathroom is built outside the main building. They carry an umbrella to the toilet when it rains. Curious, I had to excuse my self to check out the bathroom. Was I lucky or what? No one is using it. Of the five of us visitors, only I had to go to the bathroom. Right next to the toilet is a well that gives them the only source of water for the households. Hmmm..... another well project, I thought.
The town of Gringsing is not all that bad. It has a high school that accommodates a couple hundred students. Only 5 years old, and looks nice..... from the outside. But what I learned that was so compelling was that it only has one computer to be used to teach hundreds of students who don't have computers at home. The residents of Gringsing are mostly farmers, fishermen, or government employees. As an unknown town, Gringsing is not that remote. There is one internet cafe, where young people can go in and spend their time on Facebook.
December 2011
The weekend before Christmas, with my sister and our assistant Wiwien, our driver took us to the town of Gringsing. The goal is tracking down another relative. I began to wonder just how many more out there to be found. I had been fascinated about it, and still am.
With the guidance of another relative (Aunt Ruke) whom we picked up from another town along the way, we drove through hundreds of acres of rice fields which looked like a green carpet. Looking far on the horizon were palm tree tops. The sun was starting to go down, and I could see the orange ball behind the palm trees creating picturesque silhouette. On the right side of the road was a small creek. I asked the driver to stop and I rolled my windows down to hear the sound of the creek. For a moment everyone stopped talking to enjoy the serenity.
We drove another kilometer or so and started entering a residential area, passing by a mosque and arrived in front of a single story building with several doors, and soon I could see that the building is sectioned into several units, similar to a temporary military camp. A young handsome man who looked like he was in his early 20s came out on his motorcycle and greeted us. He recognized aunt Ru and regarded her as his grandma. I heard aunt Ru called him Kok. After just a few words of greeting and introduction, everybody in the building started to come out and there were more friendly greetings and introduction. Then Kok's father appeared. His name is Mudjiman. A man in his 50s who had once been married to aunt Ru's oldest daughter, until she died 5 years ago. They had four children. Mudjiman remarried and his new wife brought a son from her previous marriage.
As we were guided to walk towards their unit and were passing by each unit, I took several glances through the open doors ...... as though our host read my mind, Mudjiman said "This building used to be an elementary school." Several years ago the local government decided it was time to build a bigger school on the adjacent property and designated the old school for low-income and no-income housing. The government let several families occupy the classrooms as their living quarters for nothing.
One classroom per family. There were five of them. The unit where Mudjiman occupies has been divided into smaller rooms/cubicles to put mini beds, kitchen, and sitting room. Unlike most men, Mudjiman does not work the farm, but he makes manual farming tools such as shovels, sickles, etc. He barely has enough money to pay for his youngest son's high school tuition. In fact, Irawan who is graduating in a few months, was not allowed to take home the report card for the past semester because he had not paid his tuition for 3 months. When he came out and brought the tea tray to the table, I asked him to sit with us. I asked him what he wanted to do after he graduates and his answer was firm: "Working in a restaurant as a waiter". I don't see any restaurant in this tiny town. I later on found out that it wasn't his dream. He just doesn't know what else to do. No money for further education, no skills to get a good job. No one to reach out to.
The five families share one and only community bath and toilet. If each unit is occupied by a family of four, that bathroom/toilet is shared by 20 people. The bathroom is built outside the main building. They carry an umbrella to the toilet when it rains. Curious, I had to excuse my self to check out the bathroom. Was I lucky or what? No one is using it. Of the five of us visitors, only I had to go to the bathroom. Right next to the toilet is a well that gives them the only source of water for the households. Hmmm..... another well project, I thought.
The town of Gringsing is not all that bad. It has a high school that accommodates a couple hundred students. Only 5 years old, and looks nice..... from the outside. But what I learned that was so compelling was that it only has one computer to be used to teach hundreds of students who don't have computers at home. The residents of Gringsing are mostly farmers, fishermen, or government employees. As an unknown town, Gringsing is not that remote. There is one internet cafe, where young people can go in and spend their time on Facebook.
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