Indonesia or bust 4
In a city far away, out of reach in a land of history intrigue and a distict lack of alcohol, where it would be a detox if it wasnt for the copius amount of glorius coffee consumed!
Rise up from the blood splattered canvas one last time. Look your foe in the eye and then land a solid uppercut that crushes his lower jaw and sends him flat on his arse for the count of ten. Shake off the sweat beads from your brow and gulped down that needed life giving water. You are going to need something stronger as you get ready to stomach number four in Mon Capitano Benjy's exploits in South East Asia. Welcom my dance cub enthusiasts and fat fighters to Indonesia or Bust, number Eman as they say here.
I will start this little ditty with an introduction into the normality of life in the host home. The little rambling place ful of photos of Pa Agung in differening stages of paraglliding landings on the walls and the many cats that roam and shit freely all over the place.
Pa Agung muts have a bob or two stasked away somewhere as he does have the biggest DVD collection one has ever seen. He has all these Asians pirates that are not even out in the UK yet and are incredible playable quality. But the mian problem happens to be his penchant for bloody Jacmie Chan movies.
Pa Agung which actually translates as Mr. Big lives with his slave, sorry I mean daughter who even though she told me she is a student never seems to leave the house. Meanwhile Pa Agung gounges himself on all sorts of exotic foodstuffs and tries to feed me up. He cannot understand the term 'I am full'. But he is a delightful cook as he owned a reatuarent in Amstedam for about 13 years. He said that his flat would shake from the noise made from the Amsterdam arena when Ajax scored.
The house apart rom me and Miftah has only two people living in it. Pa Agung and his 17 year old daughetr Invy. But why are there always hundreds of randoms hanging about the place. I know that the upsiars are student accommmodation. I never see them but can hear them. Indo students are nothing like British students. You do hear their loud music, but as soon as ten pm comes they all are tucked up in bed like good little citizens. Very odd. I want to track them down and go to a rave with them, but alas I dont think late night antics have been invented here.
o what is there to do on a Friday night?
Answers on a postcard to Ben, bewildered in Indonesia.
Saturday 22nd April
A group of jovial and randomly singing persons all rammed into the back of an Angkot and headed to the utsj\kirts of Malang for out first injection of Buddhist architecture administered by yours truly. Ever since I knew I was off to Indonesia I wanted to sample as many Buddhist and Hindu ancient temples as physically possible. So therefore we started at the local and small but absolutely stunning and so rnate temple of Candi Badut. Next week via the aid of a loaned Red Cross ambulance we are off to see the majesty and intrigue of the largest temple in our area, the temple of candi ingosare. Nestling in the village of the same name it has been described to me as a jem of East Java.
But that is next week for today we went to Candi Badut where I instantly fell in love with the overwhelming scale of beauty and craftsmanship. Tis ancient monument looked every bit the ancient weather beaten monument that is was. The only thing that took away from its historica beauty wre the botched repairs made in the 1920's and the carved grafiti that littered the inside. I walked every accessable inch of the temple and felth all the carvings and ancient inscriptures on the walls with my out strectehd finger tips. I even attracted a small crowd of onlookers to my disgust as I sat in the sun with the palm tress swaying in the breeze at my back sketching the only surviving statue of an ancitn Buddhist woman in one of the fur large outer alcoves in the mighty walls surrounded by worn carvings. The statue was old and had ong since lost its head but still it has a calming presece as though it even with no visable head could still see you.
Buddhist temples have one entrance with steps leading into a small inclosed room with an altar. The one entrance represents the pathway to enlightenment and the temples are all built on 9 levesl representing the 9 steps that we muts take to reach Nirvana. They levels may only be a small rising in the carved blocks of volcanic stone that make up the temple, but in some cases (Borobudur) they can be giant levels with many statues and Buddhas situated on them.
I am amaized and in compleat love with the ancient culture that lurks under the Muslim exterior of Indonesia. But the Indonesia as a race must be comended for their remarkable inter-faith tolerance and acceptance that many countries could learn a thing or two from (hint hint Britain). This country even though it does have its developing nation problems has got so many thing right. Even though I cannot abide the fact that their alcohol policy leave me less than satisfied they are a great nation steeped in culture. On the alcohol front though there is a strange man in our office with rotten teeth who seems to have an inexhaustable supply of Chinese rice wine and loves to dish out large helping to me on a regular basis. I am now regarded as a heavy drinker as I can down the glass in one. In Britain that is normal practice, but here it causes gasps of shear delight at the magic of the whiote man from lands far away where there is not sun and all people live in red phone boxes!!
On the news front I have been invited to join Rudy from works karate club which is in some school every Wednesday. So soon I will be kung fu kicking all the beggers out of the way and also I have been made an honoury mamber of the Gerakan Pramuka gym where the men doing weight training love nothing better than to train in their skimpy pants and nothing else. Great!!!
So all in all I have fun, fun, fun galore planned. Rock on!!
Monday 24th April
Yesterday I ressed Miftah up in an Englsn shirt, matching george cross sweatbands and made him chant the traditional English terrace songs such as 'your going home in the back of an ambulance' and 'your schmit and you know you are'!!!!
Todays juicy gossip is the fact that not only was I obducted to Mr. Ame's house where he made me drink coffee that was definately laced with something before he tried to put large golden dragon bracelets on me and sell me rings. It was very scary. Mr. Ame is a massive hulk of a man with the worst mullet in the world and three whispy hairs on his top lip which he considers to be a moustache. He is also something of a spiritaul guru, but in all honesty I think is a proper fraud. What sort of man doubles as a traditional heler who has hoards of chinese come to his house and a red cross ambulace driver. Something smells fishy. But that could be the river which is next to his house where all the locals, wash, use as a rubbish dump and also do a dump in. The most unhygienic place in the world, exept maybe for our kitchin at our host home where there are more cats than crockery!
But apart from the surrealness of a house full of bizarrely shaped ornamental daggers where I half expected would gut me and I would wake up in a tub of ice with my kidneys removed on the walls, we escaped and went somewhere rather special. For today we went to Candi Singosari after our fruitless day of trying to coax people in Malang alun-alun to give blood. Canid Singosari is the most wondrous ancient Hindu-Buddhist temple in the Malang region. Whats more we had it all to our selves. It was a case of 'what shall we do now' so the bllod bus rocked up to the small village of Singosari and soon the gang (me, Miftah, some nurse dude and Mr. Ame) were clabering up the temple and our nostrils burnt with the essence of lotus and other exotic oils which had been burnt there. What a sight to behold as I reached out to touch the tangible enbodiment of enlightenment. As you can tell everytime I see one of these temples my writing becomes all fruity and I fall in love with the place.
Candi Singosari was more complete that Candi Badut. There was a complete arched high roof with all sorts of ornate and wonderful carvings in the dark stone formed in the firey mouths of volcanos. Oh speaking of which we are on amber alert for a volcanic eruption. The South East Asia ring of fire as it it know has over 100 active volcanos in this counyt alone. Therefore when one starts to rumble and spew ash and billowing smoke into the air the next volcano is not far behind. Mount Bromo is the next in line to the current ones that are rumbling and that is very very close to us. So close in fact that we are planing a small trip there to see it. But if she blows then all hell will break lose and we will have to all be evacuated somewhere on high ground. Its all action out here!
But back at the tranquility of Candi Singosari where the biords are even respectful and quit it felt like the world was standing still. Not a sound penetrates you when you are in te presence of a mighty monument from an age of Buddhas, Vishu and other exotic gods. There were ginat statues all draped in flowers which date back beyond memory, standing aloft in their resting places almots as if they could see you and pierce you with their all seeing and enlightened and wisened eyes.
The temple of course has been fiddled with during the Dutch occupency and the Japaneses invasion. So therefore the temple is not in the exact origional state that it once was. There are a row of tall ominous looking statues that once occupied plinths in and around the temple but now are standing in a row facing the entrance as if on a constant holy vigil, standing guard watching their one great home. Sometimes things would look better left alone.
Soon we left the temple and rocked back to the area known as Kwarcab to abuse the free gym which I discovered last week. This gym in question is prehistoric and the people that come to it are either so big that they are cripples where they have developed their chest and arms but not back and legs and cannot support their own weight or they are so puny that you want to laught and point at them. Anyway I have been accepted their as I showed them all some new tecniques and now I am the old wise one. Or as one shout at me 'Bulldog' because on the walls there are lots of posters of rather massively deveolped men. There also is a picture of the late and great British Bulldog from Wrestling fame. So as I am British I must be the same person in their eyes!!! Anyway at least I can keep fit and do a workout a few times a week, as running in the city is near enough out of the qiuestion. Horse carts, large oxon pulling massive oloads and so much traffic juts makes that ridiculously hazardous.
The weekend gone a few of us went exploring to try and find this place where translated they have a thing caled the hoprse trance dance. But alas this bizarre masochistic ritual where they eat glass and stab themselves with pointy things has moved and closed down. But we stumbled upon the mots cruel small and free entry zoo in the world. I have never wanted to beak open the padlocks so much to cages before in my life. Massive eagles couldnet even spread their wings as kids pushed their faces up to the bars. But the thing that made my blood boil was the three monkeys living in a faeces infested and rotting cage no bigger than a toilet cubicle. They rattled the bars and made loud noises jut begging to be free. I hand fed the calmer of the trio though the bars a banana and then one grabbed Emma and she screamed at its little flea infested hand took hold of her top. But her noise scared the bugger even more and he returned to rattling the cage as all these people looked on in vivid interset not even realising that this is cruel and wrong.
Sometimes small thing like that really annoy you. But later on in the day Hugh and I went to find this infamous tradidional market which so many of the Indo volunteers had been bleating on about. So fater the monsoon which lasted well over two hours had finished and we had come out from cowering in the warung drinking teh with loads of sugar that the little lady put in it and laughing at the man who's umbrell blew away and was soaked to the skin instantly, we explored.
Soon Hughy and I or Huggy as the Indonesians call him as they cannot pronounce his name, but they can saw Hew which means shark! Very strange people the Indo's. I secretly think they are all very kinky, that would explain all the smiling. Ayway old Huggy and I stumbled accross this undergrounf labayrinth, a maze of tunnels and alleys all bustling with people and stalls sellign everyhting from entire cows heads to small wooden seats for midgets. Hugh described the place as a fires starters dream as their were two ways out by what we coud tell. In we dived, always going deeper and deeper at everystep. Soon we were so deep that the people we had met hadnt seen daylight for years and vlinked at the whiteness of our teeths and skin. The beams overhead wre so thick with cobwebs that you could stick a man in them and make a hammock out of them, the hole place was a dingy, dark and crepy wonder. The sort of place you imagine a lurking besta to come out and festa on the flesh of a man who stumbles downt he wrong corridor. But as we neared the end we discovered to out delight the traditional farmers hats called Capengs. We bought one each for the equivalent of about 20pence and soon we were causing scuh a stir as we walked back to the entrance through the hustle and shiouts of people. everyone stared and made gestures to us. But when we emerged nto the drizzle and humidity of the city we caused even more cat calls and randoms to come up to us shouting all sorts of things. As it transpires they were juts being nice but I had my fists clenched ready for action the entire time
was walking along yesterday and the bloody Indo's try and play chicken with you. They tryand barge into you. But I thought sod it and stood my ground, dropped my shoulder a little and led the sod bounce off me and go flying into the railings with a cletter. Ha ha hat a tool. The poor little Indo didnt know what to think. But that serves him right for thinking that I am some pushover.
Well thats my Indonesian life so far. Tomorrow I am back on the blood bus aw we travell to the university of Malang (yet another campus) and try to recruit victims to give their vein juice to us. I will be in my element running around the uni with my bad Bahasan accent and my sly winks to ivite people to come to me. So far I have been banned from the office as at the Red cross mani markas canbang building I piss around on the tannoy. They asked me to summon the next people to come out to give blood. But I said the 'silikan masuk' bit so fruitily that they now want me out of the office at all times. especially as we have a proper Islamic alky onnthe top floor who keeps giving me Chinese rice wine.
Oh well, once more into the breach dear friends.
So where every you are, whom ever you are with, what every you are doing (stop it if its is naughty) remember one thing. Pregnant cats can still jump up and pull all your clothes down from the washing line and piss al over them. Dont let their pot belliedness fool you. They are evil!
Peace and love to all who have read all this arse hole bullshit
Ben (Rabu Bule Kopi is my Indonesian name)
xxxx
P.S. Alan Shearer I salute you, happy retirement!
P.P.S. Aresenal for Europe!!!!
DONATE NOW
You can still donate to the worthy cause that is the mighty VSO. Not as mighty as Hercules but we are bigger than Miftah ad thats bloody massive man!
Go to
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Also check out the worldwide efforts by VSO at
www.vso.org.ukCHECK OUT MY PHOTOS AT http://www.flickr.com/photos/47625280@N00/or
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Some of the lingo
Here for your practice at homw with the cat, Grandmother or next door's delightful; daughter are som of the Indo-Lingo. The language created by a committee in the 1920's to unite the worlds largest archepelego in speech. Ladies and gents I give you Bahasa Indonesian for beginners......
- You are naughty- Kamu Nakal
- You are a red Monkey - Kamu Monyet Merah
- So beautiful - apik tenan
- I want to go to the toilet - Soya mau pergi ke kamar kecil
- walk - jalan
- walking - jalan-jalan
- prostitute - jalang
- cat - kuching
- Thankyou - Terima Kasih
- Good morning - salamat pagi
- see you tomorrow - sampai besok
- Man - pria
- Woman - wanita
- Pregnant - hamil
What a wondeful language.
The picture are of dirty street corn on the cob and us doing our very own version of a pantomime performing monkey in the mayors ofice with our clappy dance thing extravaganza!
Our first CAD
Our first Community action day included building, carrying lots of sand and these cheeky little blighters.
Ben and Miftah
This is me and my lovely counterpart Miftahul Rachmet (Miftah).
This man can eat lightbulbs and hails from the legendary lad called Banten. Apparantly in Banten all people can fly and goats are the keepers of the secret of longevity!
We will be paired together for accommodation and work placemtn for the 6 months that I am away. He is a comedy legend and is a true laugh a minute. The trouble is that is him juts being normal and his accent cracks me up so much that I have invested in a lovely pair of incontenance pants.
Everything he says is follwed by the phrase 'very much'. For example he said 'need to eat, very much eat' and also' kamu kuching, very much kuching' ( naughty cat, very much naughty cat).
MY NEW FAMILY
I will start this little ditty with an introduction into the normality of life in the host home. The little rambling place ful of photos of Pa Agung in differening stages of paraglliding landings on the walls and the many cats that roam and shit freely all over the place.
Pa Agung muts have a bob or two stasked away somewhere as he does have the biggest DVD collection one has ever seen. He has all these Asians pirates that are not even out in the UK yet and are incredible playable quality. But the mian problem happens to be his penchant for bloody Jacmie Chan movies.
Pa Agung which actually translates as Mr. Big lives with his slave, sorry I mean daughter who even though she told me she is a student never seems to leave the house. Meanwhile Pa Agung gounges himself on all sorts of exotic foodstuffs and tries to feed me up. He cannot understand the term 'I am full'. But he is a delightful cook as he owned a reatuarent in Amstedam for about 13 years. He said that his flat would shake from the noise made from the Amsterdam arena when Ajax scored.
The house apart rom me and Miftah has only two people living in it. Pa Agung and his 17 year old daughetr Invy. But why are there always hundreds of randoms hanging about the place. I know that the upsiars are student accommmodation. I never see them but can hear them. Indo students are nothing like British students. You do hear their loud music, but as soon as ten pm comes they all are tucked up in bed like good little citizens. Very odd. I want to track them down and go to a rave with them, but alas I dont think late night antics have been invented here.
o what is there to do on a Friday night?
Answers on a postcard to Ben, bewildered in Indonesia.
Indonesia or bust 3
INSONESIA OR BUST 3Hark! Can you hear that sound. That rustling in the bushes. What can it be a child whispers. Its it the Sex pest from the west or the champion of touch and run. Surely it cant be the beast from the east!
Its somthing much worse, the lights in the auditorium dim, the temperature suddenly drops so that the frost on your breath can be sen. Then out of nowjere it springs upon its prey like an old man armed with rohypnol laced drinking cocoa.
Its that time again the white man cometh, its Indonesia or bust number 3 in this inthralling set of stories that has you on the edge of your seats and weaching for the tissues. Ben is back and this one is even more filthy. Let the unbridled fun unfold........
I fell to the floor from my wooden plank of a bed aching in places that only gymnasts and hypno gimps ach in. I asuntered my way to the bathromm and dosed myself with lashin of ice cold water that made me make the noises that a horse does when they see hay. I was awake and then in the heat of the morning which was ever increasing I had to put on my msart attiore. Why in a place as hot as Indonesia are shorts and sandals at the workplace deemed 'impolite', but burping aftre meals or picking your nose and putting the contents of your elopgated left hand nails onto the side of the plate fro which you are eating then prodding the giant lump of greenish yellow filth a few times is perfectly acceptable.
You wopuld think that the Indo's woulf realise that covered all your body in impracticle heat is juts folly, but oh now we have to look smartfor the Red Cross. So I donned my best cowboy shirt with jeans and headed off to catch the angkot to work. Once again I was told that I was a state and far too scruffy. The chief of the Palang merah then to prove his point showed me a photo of Prince Charles decked out in the best that saville row can offer. So armed with an image of the first in line I went to town and tried to get some smart clothes for work. The first port of call were shops that sold trousers. But the problem there lies with my size. Back home in England I am a small man. Five feet seven inches is two inches below the UK national average but I hasten to add half an intch above the world average. Thank goodness for the pigmioes and these fellows that I live with. The Indonesian are tiny, teeny weeny chaps with cheeky grins and really poor facial hair that tree hairs on an upper lip constitue a full moustache. Occasionally you see a chap with a full on Lord Kitchener tash but most of them cant grow facial hair for tofee.
I looked and searched for anything smartish that I could wear as trousers and drew a blank. The blessed things wouldnt go over my hips. You see here I am a bloody giant. I am taler than most and also much much much wider and more bulky. I get called Kuat a lot which means strong. Rnadoms shout it at me as compared to them I look like old Arnie the governor and ex-pat Austrian at his peak. The same goes for finding shoes to fit as the sizes go up to and not over 8. Being a size nine I am right and royal buggered. So no matter how hard I try I cannot look as dapper as old Charlie boy in his charcoal grey suit especially cut to boot.
Monday 17th April 2006Today I jumped aboard the palang Merah blood transfusion bus and headed accross the city to the army barracks. Our aim for the day was to collect a whopping 70 pint of thick red blood. I was full of aprehension as I thought that I was going to be the one sticking needles in random soldier boys. But I was relieved as a team of nurses in white uniforms and all smiles came with us to be stared at by the Indo army.My first impresions were that I could have taken on the entire battalion one by one and defeated them all. The soldiesr I saw were so weedy and puny that I wandered juts how many I could fell if I went windmilling in before I was over powered.The whole situation today was rather bizarre as we were surrounded by large machine guns that were stacked in to pyramids. But thery were so cose that if I wanted to I could have reached out and touched them. I didnt f course!When we arrived a large drill was in session and hundreds upon hundreds of soldiers in fatigues were marching around doing there bizarre Indo army thing with a march that really is nothing short of comical.Then they all stacked up thei weapon and started to go through one massive karate session. Soon flying high kicks and kung pow chop suey stiff was bombarding my vision. Most of it looked comical and I had to estrain myself from shouting 'no Kato no!' out loud.I started the day as bag filler boy. Where I put post blood giving goodies including some suspect vitamins pills into bags. Then I was promoted to bag handerout. But this became a blody nightmare as the queue piled up as every soldier wanted to try out their English skills on me. o I have been asked every concievable question in pigin English under the sun today. But I was in luck as juts as I was begiing to get bored ou of my tiny mind I was promoted to the lofty heights of blood boy. I walked around the cmp beds with soldiers lying on shaking at the site of their own blood collecting the pint bags of the warm syrup from the vein. I collected armfulls of these sachet bags and diposited them into the cool boxes and then transported them to the air conditioned blood bus parked outside with its giant stomached driver with the orst mullet in the world. This action by me muts have caused a stir as Malang Batu television turned up to film the action and many times did I see them pointing the camera at the token blood collection boy! So tonigfht I may have found fame on Batu TV as the news is aired at 7.30. Who knows I may get picked up by a talent scout and be cast in a police drama. I could be the Indo Kojak!!Who knows....
Tuesday 18th April
The blood bus fresh from the army barracks and the wimpy boys in green wearing soppy camo hats that you can buy on Southend sea front with kiss me quick on the front, rocked up to the University of Malang today. The Wibya Gama university is the Economic campus in the South of the city and it was to be our base for the day.
Unlike the soldier boys the students didnt have the orders f the general telling them to give blood. So we or I as I should say had the job of persuading them. We were based in this little room with Buddhist emblems on the wall and one looked quite like and offputtingy ike a swastika. I ignored that and then went into my very best pigin Indonesian and said in Bahas to passing student 'Salamut pagi, mocha jaidi donor darah' (good morning \, would you like to give blood0. Many students seeing my bad pronounciation ran a ile at the siht of me. The nurses were getting bored now as only about seven people had given blood today so I stepped into the breach once more and tried a different tactic. I said the same above sentance but in my very best quintessential Leslie Phillip's English to all pass girls. Guess what? It bloody worked I had all the girls who came with reach of my mucky grasp giggling like naughty school girls who had juts seen their teacher in his y front. The token white man talking Bahasa Indonesian in a strange yet alluing and somewhat erotic tone seemed to have worked and soon we were actually turning people away as the queue was getting too long.
The problem with attracting the ladies like this was I also attracted all the nutter. The nutters who canbe found at most universities (you know the ones, wear black, live in the dark and have pictures of Rolf Harris on the walls) were attracted too.
These nutters would slowly edge up to me and then when my guard was down, bang! It was like a cheeky pinch to the byum. They would bombard me with questions and start asking me all this rubbish about my beliefs and have I been to America. The trouble is that I had tio tell each and everyone of them (including the giggling lasses) that I wasnt a septic and was in fact bloody British. The cowboy hat is a great invention but does make people think that you come from accross the pond. Tomorrow I will wear my flat cap to remedy the yanky calls. The ambulance driver a Pac Ame was really into me getting involved as all he normaly does is drive the ambulance and then pester the women. So as I had emassed a crowd he was in his element ad after wards when the work was all done and we were loading up the warm gloopy vein tonic into the cool ambulances fridge he invited me and Miftah who was ever present and bewildered through this to his house. His actual words were as Miftah translated 'come to my house to see my antique rings'. Needless to say I made up some excuse about pmeeting my host father for a Kopi dan teh but Miftah jumped at the chance and now we have apparantly arranged to go to the mulleted mans house on Friday. Antique rings!
The word must have spread throught he campus that a white man in a cowboy hat andtalking in a strange tone and accent was about. Beacuse soon all the lecturers came to look at me like I was a monkey fiddling with himself in the zoo. But the lecturers had come to practice their English on me. The nurses who were working on overdrive by now thought I was the funniest thing they had ever seena nd called me luchu which means funny I think. Or it culd be an insult to my manhood.
Finally we escaped from the screaming girls who all had either rotten teeth or wonky eyes and drove through the motorbike infested streets. The noise of the city is a symphony of hinks, hoots and yells. The smells that waft through the wiondows come fast and go even quicker but the BO smell of the driver lingered. Suddenly I was aware that we were not going in the right direction and with our shipment of freshly transused blood we were heading out of the city. Oh no I though they are going to do some sort of satanic blood bum pump thing on me. But my alarm was short lived as the old craggy nurse (the other one was quite nice actually) wanted to introduce me to her kids, or were they her cousins or nieces or juts people she kept in her house for the fun of it. Anyway we were taken to a house outside the city where I was introduced to the 3 most gorgeous Asian beatuies that I have ever had the pleasue to witness. What was said to me while I shook their hands and placed my hand over my heart which is the custom out here was lots. I wasnt paying attention and was mentally transferring dirty thought to the three of them. Unfortuantely my telepathic skills are rubbish and soo we left the beautiful views behind and headed to the blood bank. When we wre transfering the blood to the large fridges ready for testing I made many a vampire jokes as I was holding the schate of blood and acting out drinking motions, but they all juts stared at me in silence and disbelief.
Finally my day was over and I could go to the internet. You should know that I wrote a long old email but the lovely Indo electricity board becided to switch itself off juts as my finger was poised to press send. Juts my luck that is. I got back to my host home past te hained monkey who now rolls his eyes at me and makes his ears wobble. I liked it best when he stuck his ongue out at me personally. I got to the host home and Pac Agung was being spoon fed by his daughter so he could still use th computer and eat at the same time. I stared in amazement as the noodles ran down his chin. I wondered why Ivy was even bothering to do this. But then thought oh sod it and sat half naked in the sun causing som passing Muslim women in head scarfs to blink and seem to scurry off.
Thursday 20th April
Another day andother Rupiah!
Let me tel you about our First Educational Activity day. It was suposed to be themed about adyboys as there is an actual Ladyboy sanctuay near us. The ladyboys were due to come in and talk or dance or do a show and tell story or some bollocks like that. But they actually got scared and blew us out (no inuendo intended).
I personally think that a man wandering round in skimpy vests, a cowboy hat, unshaven with ripped jean shots and wild eyes will put anyone off but I was dussapinted that the lady boys were a no show.
This is where the dilemma lies. With hardly anytime to re-organise a new EAD the counterpart pair in charge os this forst one did a splendid job and endeavoured to arrange something for us all. In the end we had a team of recycling experts come from Surabuya to teach the Indo's about recycling while the Brits tried desperately to stay awake in this talk that was proably priomary school level. But we also got to make paper from mashed up and blended old nwewspapers which of course ended up in a full on much gfight where I got some fantastic facial shots off at passers by until I was told off by my Indonesian counterparts.
Then for some ereason or another the childish activities are the best as we had to pair up and make clothes out of newspapers for aur partner. Before Rizky could protest I had made him a codpiece, a chest and back plate with flying shoulder pads and a fantastic head dress with all sorts of bits coming from it. Then he juts turned me into a gimp by covereing me with newspaper and even gave me a mask with two small eye holes. Very Pulp fiction!
That day while our Muslim counterparts went off to the Mosque thr entrepis Brits went on search of beer and by jove those cheeky fun loving hedonist found it and the sweet froathy beverage went down better than probably what those ladyboys could do!
What a hectic day I have had. Juts when I thought my token white man status couldnt get any more bizarre Palang Merah chucked me head firt into the deep end without any speedo's. Mr. Hari one of the big wigs at the Red Cross who seems to love me aftre I designed them a Give blood save lives poster , took me to the Islamic univsrsit of Malang. We all loaded up into the ambulance/utility vehicle and son after rusiing through ramdom crowded streets we arrived blearin out the sirens to scare off the motorbikes and sepedor motors that fill the streets like flies around a rotting carcass.
Why we had come to this university I was compleately unsure of the reasons. But I juts go with the flow. After Africa and now here I am used to expecting the unexpected and have got used to not knowing what on earth is going on. But what was in store for me made me really question Mr. Hari's sanity. He lead us down corridors, stairs, yet more corridors until we were in the catacoombes of the university. There lurking in the shadows, like timid rabbits caught in a poachers trap were his Red Cross cadets. What an odd bunch they are. Soon we were in a class troom with prehistoric chairs and desk combo things with 50 plus students staring vacantly at us. Then out of a dusty book filled cupboard there appeared a particularly shifty looking cadet cluthisng the oldest and most rotten resuscitation mannequin that I have ever seen in all my days. This thing stunk of decaying rubber and was the Asian version which inclded jet black hair on its wrinkle and sun bleached yellow body. It could have been a mutilated corpse for all I knew.
Then out of the blue Mr. Hari told me that I was teaching firt aid, examining the students afterwards and also giving them a lecture on the benefits of frast aid and HIV/AIDS prevention. But there was a catch none of the class spoke English. I speak as much Bahasa as a sparrow does. So quickly I copied down a few sentences in Bahasa from my lingo book and began. It went well at first but when I resulted to English I was met my wild eyed stares and expressionless faces in a sea all looking at me. I encumbered on regardless and soon had them all doing compressions, breaths and the whols doctor ABC routine. How much of it they understtod was unknown to me but they were really reluctant to give breaths to the dunny as later Mr. Hari told me that many students considered it to be intimate. Intimate with a plastic dummy!!!!
Finally I could escape but as soon as I stepped into the brillient sunshine for some air I was collared by the student paper. Once again I had to pose with all the students gathered around me while I snarled at the camera. I muts have looked a rite old state as I was in my trusty flat cap at the time. Sort of a combat Farmer but more rock and roll with a hint of insanity I think was given off.
Our work was finally done and after I had escaped all the girls who in their gilbabs (headscarfs) were giggling around me and trying to hold my hands and make me sing, we went o eat Cwie mie' at a local dirty and uniquely wondrous warnung. Cwie mie translates as noodles with sauce and they are a delight to the taste buds. But every now and again a small explosion occurs in your mouth when you encounter a hidden chilli pepper. Mr. hari then slapped the cook's bottom and he happen to be a young boy. I dont know wy this make me nervous but he also did it to me and Miftah earlier in the day. So in my best Bahasa I insulted him by calling him 'Kamu Hamil'. You are pregnant! This went down a treat and now he slaps not only my botty but my thighs like I am in a bloody panto. Thankfully I am back with the bllod bus tomorrow and can escape his touching wandering hands.
Candi Badut
When I discovered that Malang was surrounded by ancient spendour and majesty that can only be found in certain things I immediately wanted to sample what I personally see a a highlight to my time here in South East Asia. I am talking none other than the ancient Buddhist temples of reals long fallen and years past. Malang is surrounded by a ring of Singosare temples that date back far longer than many records go. Therefore I have been looking at many ways to travels and see the symbols of enlightenment. This morning I was given a sneaky peak at one. Candi Badut is a beautifully small and unique temple nestling in dense undergrowth outside the city. It is far enough to be a silent place for contemplation but still near enough the city limits to be able to get there withour let or hindrance. On Saturday I am organising a trip to this very temple where we can walk up to it, inside it and spend as long as we want touching it and feeling enlightened. But as for todays when Pa Agung took me there in his paragliding adorned daihatsu jobby all I could do to content myself was gae from a distance as some tool has erected a fence around it. There fore come saturday I am hurdling that fence and jumping in for a bit of ancient Buddhist architecture and exploring the remains. The main temple stood tall, eresct, prominent and proud while the grounds around were littered with rubble of falen monuments and the proturding foundations from the ground. Soon I will get up close and personal.
This is the life eh. All I need now is a cool beer. But thats just not going to happen as Miftah walked past me in nothing but his Camo pants! It doesnt matter where you go in the world or whom you see. Underpants will always make me giggle!
Well I have written a load of old horse muck and now I must go to the kamil kecir where I satisfyingly swat mosquitos with my book and leave a trail of splattered bllod up the wall.
See ya
Peace and love
Ben
xxxxx
Indonesia or Bust 2
Put on your orange robe. Save your head til it shines in the morning sun and take the pathway to enlightenment. Once you reach the cross roads take a left and soon you will have arrived in a small hamlet occupied by kinky dwarfs in lederhosen wielding leeks menacingly. This place is Ben land. Welcom to the Second installment of my Big slimy Indo Adventure.
I would start by doing the typical English silence breaker of mentioning the weather, but I cannot comment on how goos it is. For alas monsoon season is upon us and your poor humble narrator was swept into the heart of the waters from hell and drenched in a matter of seconds where the roads within the minute are turned to rivers flowing with filth, cats and a poor pedal taxi driver who seemed very bemused til some one chucked him a lifebhoy and towed him to the side.
The weather here can be wondrous one moment and the next it can rain hippos and elephants. But while playing football with the over touchy locals in what can only be described as a rice paddy field I took the opportunity of the increasing water level to hoist one of the tiny Indo's on to my shoulder in a firemans lifet and Klinsmann dive in the mud resluting in much laughter and a very muddly little man.
So then my eager readers who regularly tune into my emails like I am the BBC in the 1950's what news and juicy filth do I have for your eager eyes this time.
Well today was the day of our first CAD (Community action day). We all met at 7am in some remote village outside Malang where we were told that we were building some sort of meeting hall for the local community action group or young mothers club. Well anyway we were helping to build this room for somone or something and so we got there all decked out for a day of action. But work and Indonesians are two words that you wont normall find together in a ormal sentance. A it transpired the Indo's like to work a little and loaf and rest a lot. But this just made me work even harder to encourage them. This didnt have the desired effect though. Soon as I was lifting big sacks full of black volcanic sand on my shoulders, bags twice the size of the sacks that it took two Indos to carry. I became something of a freak show. Soon the world and his wife alsong with the bloody moer in law were gathered arounf the sweaty, sand covered whiteman. Soon I had children runing around me and locals cheering as I hoisted the heavy sacks up on to my shoulders. The local men all took me for some muscle man in my vest and cowboy hat. A muscle man!! I was even called Tarzan as I pulled massive carts full of sand from the road side up the small pathways between the ramshackle buildings with pagoda style roofs, all the way to the place where the girls in out group were mixing cement. All the while the Indnesians looked on in awe and bewilderment. The things with Indo culture is that it is the being there that is significant and 9 whitepeople were symbolica rather than significant. Before long I was invited to eat two lunches, made to pose with random women ad babies in photographs and also invited to play football for what I though was a local team, but ended up being a match or mudfest where you couldnt stand up on the local overgrwn child infested pitch.
It was a geat fun day with all sorts of things going on apart from building. But once again we had to perform the ritual of the singing and hand clapping song as though we are performing monkeys. Oh speaking of which I was walking through the Malang town centre known as the Alun-alun where I saw somehting that made me blink, rubb my eyes and have a couble take.
Surely there wasnt a monkey in a crash helmet on a bike juts riding past me. I looked again thinking that I must be going ga-ga. But there was this little poor chap on a sodding bike on a cahin being made to ride around for coins. Just when I thought you couldnt get anyore random I was filmed for national TV and swore at the cameras!
Malang itself is quite a charming little city. It's population is about 710,000 but I cannot vouch for that as I havnt done a head count personally. But it is easy to find your way and has many recgonisable things that you can remember your journey by. Such as I walk past the Buddhist club and over the footbrifge and throught the bird market to get to our meeting place which is the Malang Gerakan Pramuka HQ (Scout hut).
The bird market is an amaizing place to paruse. The area is situated down two streets and accross a bridge. Birsda of all colours and sizes fill cages of ornate and plain design. The poor things woyuld look so much happier and beautiful sitting in a tree I think and I can close my eyes and imagine letting free thousands of chirping birds who would fly to freedom and come to my aid when I do a particular whislte!
But it is not only birds that can be found in this amaizing yet cruel market. Rabbits, mice and tiny little monkeys are all for sale. The monkeys touch me mots of all as they lok so sad in their confined cages. One seller was trying to flog his primate to some geezer who must have commented that the monkey in question looked a bit lifeless. So the seller in all his animal rights best attitude squirted the poor thing with water to make it jump around. It worled as the man paid in full and took the monkey away. I hope that it esaped and shit all over his clothes!
The local Malang paper came ut the other day. I opened its odd pages and there was an article about 'Ingriss' volunteers coming to town. But who should be in the picture but none other than Mr. Bing. How did he get in on the media action? All he did was make us play odd games and a human version of paper scissors and stones. Instead we used giants, witches and dwarfs. The ginats kills the witch, but she killes the dwarf, while the little one can kill the ginat. But these human manouvers all had actions! the dwarfs one was practivcally perverted as he fiddles with the ginats bits to win the battle!!! Mr. Bing seemed very keen that we should also learn the actions to the dwarfs fiddling actions if the ginat was a woman!. The two actions resembled milling a cow with one giant udder for a male giant, and a etch a sketch action that could resemble boobies for the female human monolith. I think Mr. Buing should nt be let to hang aroubnd with children or animals. But I will adopt him if he puts himself up for it!
Anyway old Bingbony was there grinning on the photo with 4 volunteers and a ransom woman who got in on the action and proably juts came to the ceremony for the free food. But if you look between the volunteers heads you can see a splodge taht is me. Fame at last the Malang local reg. What an achievement. One to put on the CV me thinks!
I have a mission with some of the other volunteers. We are trying to fins a traditional maret to procure a traditional farmers hat that looks like a lampshade. These things rock. You see the pedal taxi drivers wit them on and I want one to blend in more! I have so far only used the pedal taxis oce. I do think that they are far too touristy and ike to walk as you see more. But on this one occason we all paired up and raced back to our HQ. I was in a edal taxi with Lucy one of the Brit volunteers, now she weighs about a stone and herefore as I am no chubber I thiugh that we would win the race. But we were pushed back into second place by two Indo's called Rizky and Anhah (both male) and then suddenly coming frombehing was Miftah in his own pedal taxi. He roared past us and screaminged some Indo abuse as he raced on to win the final home straight. When we wre all back our pedeller seemed to be having a heat attack, so I paid him anyway and was off like a shot. In truthy he was an old boy but stopped panting as soon as his 20p in rupiah arrived in his palm!
We were supposed to be helping out the local Pramuka (scouts) with a sex education day. But due to certain aspects we are now juts turning up for their seminar to give moral support and not talk or but condoms on bananas as they wanted. This is for the best as in Indoonesia se education is done very, very strangely. Firstly, when talking of sex in school and educating children they dont use the examples of men and women. They use plants as the process of pollination. Therefore when a child comes out of school they are none the wiser about sex. Also as the country is predominately muslim and they believe in no sex before merriage or 'self abuse' mots Indonesians are in the dark about the whole thing. Therefore us Brits with our 'liberal' views on sex will probabloy blow the young peoples minds with our points of view and telas. Ergo it is best not to get too involved as we have only been here about 2 weeks and it is best not to indoctrinate the locals that safe sex is ok and suddenly mass orgies pop up around the city or they think safe sex is sex with the front door locked and lots of babies arrived from the stalk.
But as we are not doing that there is something else that amaizes us and we are organising an educational actvity day on. I am talking about none other than theinfamous 'Ladyboys'. I kid you not. There is an actial ladyboy institute here in Malang. I am not sure what type tey are (trans or cross dresser) and how educational it will be. But it will be fasinating. As I am I sure I saw one in the town. Lady like, but with big hands and stubble!! Well time will only tell what happens with te lady boys but be rest assured that I will take photos and stand a lady boy next to an Indonesian girl so you can play spot the difference!
I must also report a breakthrough on the old beer front. We all were divided up into groups of a female counterpart pairs and one male. Then we had to embark on tasks around the city. This was basically to get us to orientate ourselves with the city. But while the Indonesians went to the mosque with its call to prayer that can be heard in the next region we went to an ex-pat bar and sampled the delightfully crisp Bintang lager stuff that went down a treat. Since then I founf a place actually called Indo mart and bought some cheap beers that I have hidden away from Miftah and have shared out. I am like the contrband man. While in the mountains at our catholic retreat I was the tea bag man with my special stach and now I am bers wines and spirits. Minus the wines and spirits as I cantfind any here at all. The good things is that all this very little drinking mularky means that I will save an incredible amount of cash. I am not spending hardly anything anyway. We even get about 150,000 rupiah a week for living allowances, food and travel to and from our respective work placements. So not only will I also be saving money but I will be detoxing my liver after years of abuse. I may come back as healthy as a pure thing of the purest purity that did a degree in purity!
One thing I must stop doing is making sexual inuendo ridden comments to the Indonesian volunteers who are very innocent. How they will survive when we go to Glasgow I have no idea. Oh talking of Glasgow I have been told that we are part of the Edinburgh festival opening parade. Yes the legendary Fringe comedy and art festival with see the sights of Miftah the Human lightbulb eater. He is a legend, but was very lazy today at the building site.
The best thing about Mlang is that on my way to Paleng merah to work each mornign I gaze into the distance and see the cloud capped wondrous sight of the volcano in the back ground. What a sight to behold. The wonder never seases to amaize men. I am planning a wee trip up there as long as it doesnt erupt and also I am planning on checking out there lovely and enchanting Buddhist temples and monuments around the city suburbs.
We have a mid project review where we all go away and discuss how things have been going and also if there are any problems to arise. I championed a bid to the Temple of Borbudur, but alas it has been quashed as it is too far away. My heart sank when I heard that. The most amaizing Buddhist templ;e in all the world, the wonders of the 9 storey pathway to enlightenment. It has been quashed. I want to cry or shack at up warung (food stall). I can see the point of why we cannot go as it takes about a day to get two and we only have 3 days away, but I set my heart on climbing to the top to see the Buddha encased in their bell chambers. Now it will remain a dream until I return. Or I could get ejected from the programme by running off!!!!!!
Seroiusly I know I am a trpouble maker but I am quite serious here even though I am subject to outburts of mentalness where I race kids in the street or when I am shouted at for being white saluting them and bowing. I get called boss, Bule (whiteman) and also sir a lot. I have also been called John. I think people juts shout the only English name they can think of out loud. Like a form of look there's a stranger tourette's!
I have made one fatal error while being here thoigh. I told my host father about little Britain. He seemed to get the wrong end of the stick about 'Bitty'. I caught him talking to one of the English volunteers yesterday and he said to her 'are you missing your mothers breasts'. Now this girl is 21 and I think she now believes that I live with a paragliding mentalist. But one can only wonder what wittisisms he will come out with when I tell him about toilet humur.
I will now for once be serious in an email. I know that I am never such but I want to tell you about a rather special and courageous person who juts so happens to be one of the Indonesians volunteers.
There is a very small Indonesian volunteer called Hajrah. She come from the island of Sumatra. From a town at the northern most tip, a town called Banda Aceh. If that name rings a bell it is because that was one of the worst decimated places by the tsunami. Hajrah is an inspiration to me, but I can never tell her as she would be far too imnarrassed and could possibly become upset. But this courageous soul lots her sister amongts other members of her famly when that fateful wave hit. The tragedy, the pain, the suffering that she muts have d\gone through. I feel deeply for her. The fact that she not yet 2 years later is here on this GX VSO voluntteer scheme is a remarkable feat. I praise her strength and courage. She has a geat sense of humour and the naughtiest laugh I have ever herad. But when I hear about her tragic loss I became in awe of her strength and determinatin to make the mots out of life. The lesson here is that no matter what hapens you can never lose your spirit. She is full of spirit and the very best kind it is two. I take my hat off to her and salut and toast her to the end. Peope like that are true and few and far between.
Well thats all I can write for now as my poor eyes cannot focus on the screen anymore and the man in the internet cafe is trying to sell me coffee and a monkey or Kopi and monyet as it is here in Indoland.
Take care my fearless readers. Sleep tight and remember above all think of the chain monkey in the tree outside my host houise that sticks his tongue out at you when you squeek.
With mush love, cheecky winks and klots of Indo Bitty.
Waalaikum Salam as Miftah says
Ben
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Remember all my blogs and a few photos that you can check out and lick can be found at:
www.benslavatory.blogspot.com and
www.benslavatoryreturn.blogspot.comALL PHOTOS ON THIS BLO HAVE BEEN STOLEN FROM ANOTHER VOLUNTEERS BLOG. APOLOGIES TO EMMA DOUGLASS. YOUR A GOOD LASS!
Indonesia or Bust photos
Look at the pissed off at wearing this shite shirt pose!
Indonesia or Bust
Welcome to Indonesia or bust
The time has come.
I put on my khaki and clambered aboard a plane heading into the unknown. After many hours of turbulance. I arrived into the jungle, the mists of time the land of Indonesia. Let the fun begin! Welcome my dear and beloved readers to my next installment of my grand adventures which have become world famous and soon will be made into a full lenght feature film with a huge international star playing me. I am hoping for Brad pitt but I reckon I will get Rowan Atkinson! Anyway here I am in Java. One of the larger island in the worlds largest archepelego. Java in Indonesia, or the Dutch East Indies as it was once known by. Java was once governed by Sir Thomas Stanford Raffles while the British were the protectorate soverign of the nation from 1811 - 1815 while the Dutch wre pre occupied by the Napoleonic wars. Then the Dutch took it back and onlt granted independance in 1949. Raffles coincidently founded the free trade port of Singapore and has a namesake in the impressive period hotel. Where the beautiful and wonderous Singapore Gin Sling was invented. Anyway I am getting sidetracked with a small history lesson which I am sure none of you want to hear or really care about. So let me take you on a journey through time and space to the world of Indonesia. Now thr first thing you must know is that ndonesia ia no place for a hedonistic fun loving traveller bum like me, the deeply religious undertones of the place make it very hard for one to procure the refreshing beverage that is commonly known as beer. Oh how I dream for the sweet caress of the froth in my stomach and the solace sought at the bottom of a bottle. All I have are a few minatures left which I was kindly given by the lovley stewradesses on the wondrous free alcoholi laden Singapore airlines. Also what an airport Singapore has, it is a city in itself. You could have spent hours walking around in a trance. But alas I was in an hour bundled away from the massage parlours and onto a silk air jet bound for the hot hot hot and muggy Surabuya. We touched down and the heat was reminissant of Africa but wetter if that can be possible. My first introduction to Indonesian culture wa the fact that no buger queues. There I was with the words 'you are an ambassador to your country' inging in my ears from my pre-deaparture training course held in London two days before we fles and all around me the Ondonesian are pushing and charging in and out of the line. So the only thing to do was to stand my ground, place my feet firmly on the ground and watch them with an inane grin on my face as they bumped off me. In truth I am a small man back in England, but there I am looked up to. Literally I am taller tha mots Indonesians. That in itself is a problem. I went to buy a pair of incredibly cheap trainers and a pair of trousers for my work placemetn as I have to look smart but alas I am juts too big. The shoe sizes go up to 8 and the trousers and jesna, well they are tighter than a Scotman's wallet. So fnally after a long bum numbing flight we were all in the land of temples, motorbikes that rules the road, rice and a language known as Bahasa. I keep saying we. I suppose I better enlighten you on who the collective we actually are. Well there are 9 Brits on this Global Xchange thing that I am doing through VSO. 6 Ladies and 3 lads. All are a cool bunch and I a glad that we have all gelled. Most of the time we spend taking the preverbial out of each other and being rude. But I havnt got one complaint about the group. Our first week which I why I havnt been in touch, we spent up in a Catholic retreat doin loads or work. Yes actually work. e had lectures, teambuilding activities and most of all isolation. It was so odd being up in the Welirang mountains as I knew what wonders leay outside those shut and locked gates but VSO decided that it would be bst to get all the indoctrination out of the way first. A whole week of poxy silly games and so much clapping followed that my mind was numb fo two wholes days. But we did meet our Indonesian buddies and have now all been divided into our counterpart pairs. That was a funny thing in istelf. We wre observed or spied on as I like to call it. We were watched and they (they being the supervisors) observed how we got on with the Indoniesians. Then they put you with the one who chose you as their favourite. I got the comedy option. I am paired with the living legend from Banten. The man who can eat lightbulbs and I kid you not on that. The man who wants to progress up to swallowing and regurgtating live bats as it is his cultural custom. The man with the funniest accent in the world and a great sense of humour and mots of all the biggest Indonesian I have ever seen. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, manthings and mangina's I give you..........MIFTA RACHMAT. Mifta is a gentle giant. He towers above the group althoyugh he is only anoyut an inch taller than me. But his shear gerh is massive. He is the only one to go up for thirds, then forths and keeps going up til the food has all but vanished. The kitchin staff at the catholic retreat fweared him! That is a great pariing as he loves being silly and loves to show off. BUt he has to fast for an entire day before he cabn eat the lightbuld, so he only saves that for special occassions. But although we got on really well I am sure there is another reason why I was paired with him. This reason is quite a serious one, and that is. For the first time in my life I had to dive into a swimmingl pool and save someone. Yes I had to save Mifta who some fool called Yaki pusjhed him in the deep end sank like a stone. In a mater of mini seconds I was in the water and hoisting him to the side. I have never had such a punding hearty beat. But thank goodness I saw him get pushed as many around him juts stood and stared. Our nly outing from the catholic retreat in our first week was a hike up the Welirung mountain to a hotsprings. One of the people who ran the sho was called Mr. Bing and he said that a natural hotspirngs can be found there. He even said that it was deep enough to swim in. So we hiked up the the mountain top and down the side on the Italia jobesque roads. But then as we tuened the final bend and swa through the trees a sbloody green algae infested pool I was rather pissed off. Hot springs my ase I thioght. As it transpiores this pool is filled by a pipe that leads to the hot springs but it is still not the same thing. There was however some really hot pools. One juts about cool enough to slowly and tentetively lower yourself in. The second can only be described as cup of tean hot. Anyway I digress. Mifta cannot swim. This I find most odd as he told me that he was in the flood rescue team in his hometown of Banten in West Java. Anyway he refused to go in and stood on the side in his speedo's and t shirt when that silly sod pushed him in. o Benjy to the recue it was. I then proceeded to give the little shit who pushed him in a right talking too. It was done tactfully and in front of everyone and I am sure I coyuld see tears creeping into his eyes. But luckily he wasnt one of the Indonesian volunteers. He was a mamber off team Bing who seemedto be running the show. Although they didnt have a clue as to what they were doing. So that was the first week, dramatic recues, mindmumbingly boring talks and lectures, visiti smy deaf people to teach us sign language and lot and lots of language lessons. I am slowlty coming along in Bahasa Indonesian, slowly being the major wod in that sentance. But I can tell people off 'kamu nakal'! Bt the language does throw up some silly misunderstandings. For example rioad in Bahasa is 'jalan'. While walk is 'jalan-jalan', But if you say 'jalang' with the G on the end that word then becomes the Indoesian for prostitute. Better not mis that one up then, well not too many times that it doesnt become funny anymore. Finally we left our mountain retreat and headed into the real world. Boy was I glad to finally experienece the real Indonesian. Or Java as I should put it. We travelled the two hiours journey into the centre of east Java to the city of Malang which is going to be my home for the next 3 months. There I will work, live with a host family and spend EAD'S and CAD'S with the rest of the team. We also have money to spend on a trip away and I am championing a bid to go to the ancient temple of Borabudur eight hiours drive away. EAD means Educational activity day. Each counterpart pair has to run one for the entire 20 strong group (18 volunteers 2 paid superviosors). cad = community actionday and we will all togheter run a few of those. As long as they an be made to 'sound' educational then you can almost get away with anything, but my bid of Thai kick boxing was vetoed by the powers that be. Here is my fisrt rant. VSO has the worst insurance in thw rodl. We are not insured to do anything. We cannot ride motorbikes as they are 'dangerous' we cabnot drink alcohol as it is not Muslim and we cannot go paragliding. I mention this as the host family I a with is a single parent in his 40's with a 17 year old dayhter and he is a paragl;iding nut. He is a fantatic, former bational Indo Champ and every thing. Mr. Agung or 'Oowee' as he like to be called. I am so chffed with my host farther. We all met our host families and our work placements at this poxy ceremoney held in the town hall of Malang. A grand old Dutch building and they put on this lovely spread for us. Apparantly a large group of English violubnteers arriving in Malang is a real front page news story. We were treated like celebrities. But we didnt get awaty scott free. We had to wear the worst shirts known to man. The girls got away lightly, they wore these lovely ndo dresses, but the lads. We looked like American wino's in Hawaii. What a atste and to top off the ludicrousness of the event we also had to perform a routine. hank goodness all us Brits are inept dancers as we were supposed to do this funny Indo dance routine. When the Indo;s in dismay twigged that no matter hopw long we spend trying we were not going to get it, changed their tactics and we sang a song in Bahasa instead. With clapping of course. On the bight I tried to put a spabnner in the works by clapping faster and fsater so that I could put them all off. BUt the sods all kept up and lightning speed. Then we had to sit throgh speech after speeech after speech. Fisrt from the Mayor, then the head of the Malang police, then the head of the army barracks in Malanf, then someone else, then a geezer with a moustache, then a woman with a miustache and finally out\r supervisors and the British council chap who I almost broke his hand when I shook it (Indonesians have a really limp wristed handshake). I sat through the speeches and many time did the person next to me jab me in the ribs to keep me awake. It was so boring. But then we met our host fathers , mothers and other reletives and our plcaments. Pac Agung immediatley stood out, a tall large man with riotund belly, goatee beard and westerbn clothes. So I went over and asked him first. ow and behold he was my new daddy. The first thing he said to me was 'Bex and Fifie (supervisors) wont let me take you paragliding'. He is a cool cool man. He used to live In Ametsrdam and owed an Indo reataurant. (Oh Indo is not a racuiisr term, I asked if it is ok to call them that). Pac Agung is a good geezer to be housed with. He has a bloody pool table and already I have won and lots some cash on it. But like 88% of the country he is Muslim and I am woek every morning at 4am by the Mosque next doors lous speakers and Mifta getting up from the bed on the otherside of the room, farting anf\d then praying. But I cant complain. My work placement has got to be the coolest out of all on offer. Some counterpart pairs are working with street children,at blind and deaf schools, or in homes for the mentally diabled. But not me and Milky Mifta the lightbuld muncher from banten. Oh no. We work for Palang Merah. That is the Indonesian Re Cross and spend all day mioncing around in a ambulance wearing these wait coat jackets with the logo on that make us look like UN diplomats in a mind field. We get to see all of the city and the subirds and have already been up the mountain and gazed over the blinking lights of Malang at night and to top it off we are disaster attack team. That means if anything happen we go, go, go!!!!! Already I have been to the site of a collapsed house and after the paramedics had take away the man with the broke back I smiled and waved and was made tom pose for pictures. 'Look white man next to fallen house' snap, snap. I am actually little more than a first aider armed with my sterile gloves and my smile. But on Monday that all changes as I am spenidng a day in the amubulance then a day located somewhere in the city. Then back to the ambulance and then the following day somewhere else. This process will repeat for the duration that I am here. Except on Wednesdays when there wil be EAD'S. This monday I am off ambulance duty (I am not allowed to drive the ambulance so I am combat stretcher bearer) and I am at the Malang army barracks with the blood donor service. We have to take 400 pints of blood in a day amdf I am under the impression that I may be taught hopw to use a needle. Surely not, I am too gun-ho fot\r that. Realistically I should be smile and wave token white guy and the tea boy. But only the future will tell! But the pearce de resistance of my place,ent is that I am the first aid guy aong with a couple of others who stand on the side lines at Arema Malang football matches. Now that is top notch fantastic as they are bloody fotball crazy out here and Arema Malang are the top tesnm in the country with a 30,000 capacity stadium. Already Pac Agung who loves Arema and goes everyweek has decorated the Union Jack I gave him. It is now adormed with the word AREMA on the front. Football is odd out here as the teams are full of fat Brazialian wash ups and random Africans who are alwatys getting off as teIndo's fall over at the slightest touch. But me and Inbby another volunteer have trials next week for some low division team. This is the equivalent of the old English 3rd division in Indoanesia. But very very poer a stabndard. It must be really if I have a chance of playing! Oh I am a long way away from the Capital Jakarta and dont think I will be able to go there but there are riots there at the moment. Can you guess what over? PLAYBOY!!!! Yep the christaisn and the muslims are having a bit of a barny over some dirty mags, hop silly! Our theme of tis whole xchange is disability and also interfaithe, so you wont see me fighting over playboy! But as Mifta is muslim he has never touched a drop of Alcohol in all his 22 years, how the hell did he do that!!!!!!!!!! The country side outside Malang's hustle and bustle with motorbikes and the three wheelsed passeeneger seated bike things everywhere. The country is lush and green with riolling cultivated hills that make them look like they have steps all the way up. Large white oxen plough the fields with men in triangular hats leading them along on a rope. The people smile when they see you but stare horrible and as I am white I hear 'Bule' a lot which is there way of saying whiteman. But they are so deeply religoius that hardly any offer a treat to you. Bescides if they do I am quite bigger tha them. I tried tio buy some jesna and they are for skinny Asian legs. I couldnt get the bloody things over my thinghts. Thats how buig ia m compared to the Indo's. They even make me arm wrestle them. When I beat them they get on the blower and call their mates who all turn up to have a go at the whioteman wrm. So far I am undefeated. Mifta wont have a go as he sayd that it is naughty! Around the city are the mots wondrous Buddhist ancient temples from the era long gone where Buddhism was the major religion. I gaze at them in awe and admiration and no matter what is going on around them you feel relaxed and enlightened just by being in their presence. Now I have written too uch I know but you know me, I do like to tell you lot things. But before I go and vanish I must tell you all that to wipe your botty you dont use paoper! You splash yourself with water from a trough! Yes you do. It is avtually quite liberating to have cold water all over your genitals I can tell you. It is also the same trogh where you wash from...nice! But I dont complain, its cold and freshens you up a treat. Juts like showering in the rain wg\hich I did at the cathlo reteat and shared the crap out of some nuns. I was told that in Indonesia even though I had my swimming shorts on it is impolite to shower in od's piss from the sky! Take care my cherubs and whatever you are \doing and wherever you are try and cold water on the genitals thing. You wont forget it! Love Ben xxxxxxxxxxx P.S. The word wang out here means money, so you have people begging in the street asking for wang. How I giggle to myself at that!
