Leaving the party before it is over!
The Post-Benoit Era begins……….. A sad time to leave, but nothing I could do would allow me to stay. The powers that be had their two poence worth and cast me adrift. All for speaking out and being myself. The controllers of the programme dont like my individualism and my fun loving hedonistic approach to life. They say that I scare the Indonesians, but a sparrow makes them run for the hills and the sight of bare Glasgow flesh makes them cross the road to escape. By sending me home they have shot themselves in the foot bif time. Thye have sent home and banished someone who can make a difference and has the courage to do so. The project supervisors cant see the wood for the trees and strive to create sopmething that they know they cant. They flog a dead horse. They never liked the fact that I speak my mind.Its now back to Essex and then a few trips away before the big one beckons.
The other day it would have been the first ‘teamtime’ session In the post Benoit era (I am not trying to sound dramatic), it hit me hard! It hit me like a plank of wood well aimed at the knee caps. It sent me spinning and I feel dizzy.
I wish I was still up there in Bonnie Scotland with you lot. I miss it, I miss all the randomness and the friends that I have left behind. It feels like I am coming pout of a Coma down here. Being back in Essex is doing my nut in, I am so bored. All the old things seem mundane and no one has moved on.
Even though I am away from the randomness of Indonesia the surreal ness of life never seems to amaze me. I was walking through London after meeting up with an old Friend and going to Camden and somehow we ended up in the Weatherspoons in Whitehall. As we were walking back to the tube station we past Trafalgar square. Low and behold who should I see? Bloody Bruce Forsyth in the flesh. It was some strictly come dancing bollocks and he was being mobbed and through his microphone which was audible through the massive speakers he was sternly saying to these sprogs running at him ‘back off’. Oh what a ledge!
Back in Essex after being thrown off from the VSO global xchange programme creates a feeling of tremendous loss. I am away, absent gone into the mists of time disappearing until only Smokey fragments of memory exist.
Its odd to be thrown back into a life that you were so easily forgetting. To return to rubbish jobs, warm beer in the local and the thudding of Essex boy cars as they roar past with their chav music up to top whack.
Since being shown the VSO door I have kept myself busy. My hair is now short and brown, my beard trimmed and rather rascalish, my room is full of carved masks and I have driven my Grans car illegally.
Life is slowly getting back to some shape again. But I have another trip next week to Look forward to. Yes I am off once more. This time I am off for a 4 day jaunt to Amsterdam. Copius amounts of weed await me, amstel beers, goos Dutch company and meeting some old mates whom I haven’t seen for quite a while.
I argued every angle in the most polite and calm voice. But I fear that this decision to send me home was made a long time ago and not by Bex. Tom officially kicked me off and left the room to phone the head boss of the GX programme. When he left the room Bex broke into tears and said that she didn’t want me to go. But if that was the case then why did she keep her mouth shut while Tom was kicking me off and I was fighting my corner like a caged tiger. Therefore I can only assume that she wanted me to go from day one. We have never seen eye to eye before and have always crossed paths on opinions and the like.
It was so cloke and dagger of them to kick me off like that. Call for me to come in and then do it. I wasn’t given pre warning and the chance to defend myself. Nothing. I was ill equipped to fight the battle, which lay awaiting in ambush for me.
How do you change suddenly and without warning?
One moment you are working like a trooper in Bonnie Scotland happy as Larry, meeting friends going to the gym and having a great time. Then suddenly you get the news most dreaded and completely out of the blue that you are going home. Being outcast, ostracised, cast into the void that it time and space. The feeling of emptiness was too much for me to bear.
The train journey was long and gave me too much time to dwell. I know that I have to keep busy and write all my experiences down like I am doing now. This is therapeutic and also creates a record foe me.
The train didn’t get into London Kings cross till 12.30am the Saturday morning. I loaded up my bags and went to the underground station. But when I was on my way to Liverpool street we stopped. A poor sole had taken their life by throwing themselves under the train. This hit me because I could not stop thinking about loss. In my case it is not loss of life but loss of precious time and experiences spent with people who are up in Scotland still. The place I loved and should still be.
While travelling down I thought about getting off at York to see Fae, but the train only stopped for a minute and by the time I was perusing the idea in my head the train pulled out and the automatic door locked.
I therefore had to load myself up and loads of commuters all going back home all-beered up and I had to walk from Moorgate station to get to Liverpool street. Its not a long walk but we had 5 minutes to do the ten-minute walk in and there was one last train. I also was loaded up like a bloody packhorse and the surging drunken crowd really didn’t want to let me get there on time. I ran like a wobbling wind swaying with my bags under my arms and on my back. My capeng bouncing on my bag and my lacrosse stick dangling. I got their just in time to push through the barrier hurdle with difficulty the rail run down the escalators and jumped on the last train to Epping. But it wasn’t the last train to Epping. It was a bloody Hainault via New bury park one so I had to change again at Leytonstone.
On the train some youths took a liking to me and shouted things like’ Hey Jesus can you turn this into wine’, and then tried to carry my bags, but they were so drunk that they couldn’t lift them. They must have seen the non expression or some sort of fire in my eyes as I didn’t say a thing but they left me alone after I gave them a calm stare.
Finally I got to Epping station at 2am and my mate was in his car waiting for me. The trouble is he had hardly any boot space because of his stereo system and speakers so it was a cramped ride home.
That night I slept in a strange bed and then in the morning I awoke to find myself back in my town.
Unable to get into my house as the oldies are in Menorca. Unable to go anywhere as my car is uninsured and declared off the road at my Grans and she is in Italy.
What do I do now?
Well the Saturday I went to my other grans and started to wash my clothes. Everything looked different. My granddad was thinner than ever, my gran looked tired and the dog was too sore to move because of her hysterectomy but she wagged her tail and I lent my head against hers as she licked my cheek.
So lets me tell you this. Adjusting suddenly back to a life you almost cant remember is a strange thing. I am at home alone as I got the spare keys off my grans, but the house has no water and therefore I have to piss in the garden. Nice I know but true? Therefore I have to go to my grans to wash. I am unpacking at home and putting my masks up on the walls and reading my post. I am listing to music and trying to put everything away without making a mess.
I decided that I was not going to mope. I could mope and sit there and get rip ragingly drunk and wallow in my own self pity. But I am bloody not going to. Fucks sake man I am not dead. I have just been sent home. I have made the greatest friends that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, many of which I have given permanently rooms of residency in my heart. So I am going to sort my self out.
First thing was I had a few people round and we had a small BBQ at mine. There hardly any food in the house but a few mates came round and we polished off my little brother ‘s (he is in Ibiza, what a chav) and cooked a bit. We sat in the scorching sun and talked.
The I popped down to my local pub which is now over 21’s as someone crashed into the front of it and it is a listed building. Therefore as the person who was driving was 18 that must mean that all 18 years old can damaged the pub. The logic behind the whole thing is reminiscent of VSO’s decision to create more trouble for themselves and send me home.
Sunday I continued to methodically unpack but had visitor after visitor of friends all popping in to see me. I have missed them and each and everyone said I needed to shave.
So guess what when I went up the road to play football as my football team needed a goalkeeper I got my old job back.
I walked up to the sports centre where I used to work and they are crying out for staff. They couldn’t believe how I looked they were shocked. But the conditions of the new employers are that all long hair must be tied back, only one earring per ear and staff must be clean shaven. So what I have done is sculpt my beard from jungle mass to rather dapper creation. I look like I have a jaw line again now. I can see the definition of my face. I look much better. But still a wee bit hairy. Well they got the shaving out of me but the rest they wont bother to complain to me about.
Playing football was a great feeling. I was in goal and a bit rusty but my team are pretty poor at the moment sop I got in a lot of practice. We lost but I was like Ben the cat again. But a bit more restricted in movement. It’s coming back to me though.
So I have a job and some shifts, I have unpacked, I have bought some hair dye but haven’t used it yet and my first shift is tomorrow. Therefore I have sit down to write my diary and conclude my Indonesian and Scottish adventure. It ended prematurely, but not all stories have an idyllic ending do they. But my bar where I worked in has gone and the gym I go to have been demolished. So I can continue to run, but I was really becoming a gym freak again!
I don’t know what I will do. I have a few ideas but I will sort myself out. I may go away somewhere and meet some of the people I met in Africa.
I am definitely going to sell my car and get my motorbike license in a weeks intensive course and buy a classic bike with a sidecar. When I got to my house my mini is sitting there, all gutted out as she is being restored but a silver mini has appeared from no where in the drive.
One thing made me laugh. A mate said to me ‘Oi Ben I saw you in the times like’. I don’t know what was more shocking. Ennik and my article was also in the English times or one of my Friends actually reads it? Funny old thing life.
Since I have been back the phone calls (even ones at 2am) and the texts from the Scottish lot whom I left behind have been flooding in. They bring a smile to my face, I know I left an indelible mark. I still feel like I have lost a leg and think I forever will. But I am the last of the Whateley-Harris’s and by Jove lets bloody cat like one then shall we. Music up loud in the house, going out and enjoying life.
I left behind the greatest people in the world. The people who are my family. I love them all and always will do. I hold no grudges for the ones who complained about me and the ones who thought ill of me. I hope that they think the same of me.
Everything keeps reminding me off the times I have just had and been forced to leave. The masks I am putting up on my walls, the music I listen to. The music conjures mental images of people and times and activities we did. I feel like I shouldn’t be here back in Essex. I feel like a hairy impostor in my hometown. Essex eh. Oh what a place. You may have NEDS up in Scotland but here we have and its so delightful to reacquainted with those little fuckers known as Chavs. Oh I hate chavs!
This brings the final curtain down on my adventure. There will be an epilogue come September and I look forward to seeing them all.
But for now This is the major part concluded, I can conclude by saying that I write far far far too much.
I will end on some quotes which I feel are rather apt..
‘Fate shuffles the cards and we play’ (Arthur Schopenhauer)
‘The hardest decision you ever make is knowing that you have made a mistake’ (Art Brut)
‘So when your lonely, you know I am here waiting for you’. (Franz Ferdinand)
The last quite means that I am only a phone call away and that I am waiting for you. Waiting to see you all at the debrief.
Have a great time in Avey Bridge and make sure you do all the mad things I would have done.
I love you all, see you all soon!!!!!!
Benoit
Remember whisper my name and watch me dance.
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Holland extravaganza
Well I am back now after a great 4 days of hedonistic fun in the land of Clogs. Oh how wonderful it was to jump on the easy jet plane and shoot over the water for a bit of fun.
I was one night taken to a International students bar and we didn’t leave till 5.30am. It was crazy man!
Amsterdam may be the place to go, But I have been in Leiden a picturesque university town only 30 minutes by the train from the capital. There I have been staying with a friend and it seems like the token Englishman has been adopted by all my friends friends who made me dance all night and also lent me a bike to use.
It was so surreal as all the Dutch use bikes rather than cars. We should learn from this and outside clubs, bars, stations and cafés are hundreds of bikes all chained up to railings and they also have their own special bike parking areas. The bikes are really old granny ones too. No one cares what they look like out here. There is no materialistic idea about mountain bikes. bikes with baskets and breaks using the pedals pushed in the opposite direction are the rage!
Also I have had a day at the sea side. The Dutch seaside is very much like the British equivalent but much cleaner and with less chavs and arcades. Instead they have windmills and lots of cheese. Oh this place may be famous or infamous for porn, red light districts and drugs but the cheeses steals it for me. Also the Hertog Jam beer isn’t half bad either!!!
I have been staying with friends whom I met in Africa and also stayed one night in Amsterdam in a cool flat over looking the wonderful Vondelspark where I spent many an hour sitting drinking and smoking.
But now I am back and recovering after a night out in Chelmsford where I ended up staying out til 4 am again. Oh I need some sleep.
Night all.
Indonesia or Bust Scotland beckons
Ben's back in the UK!!!!!!
Indonesia or Bust 11 - The End Glasgow lets rock!!!!
JULY 2ND
A long time has passed since I last wrote and an awful lot has happened. For starters In am in Bonnie Scotland where they have an obsession with Irn-Bru and many drunks roam the streets singing at you. Its juts like home but it doesnt get dark til 11.30pm. So its a real contract from Indoland getting dark at 5.30 each evening.
So far I have been sampling the good Scottish culture such as having a good booze up. It is strange to go into a club or bar and have to push your way through all the smokers standing on the pavement as they are banned from smoking inside. But is is great to come home not smelling of old fags after a ood drinking session.
I have to pretend I am an Aussie mots of the time as yesterday saw the orange marches and the world cup end for our heroic boys. Oh Rooney why doyou have to be such a chavchild and why is Christaino Ronaldo such a snug basterd that you want to smash his face in!
Yet again the dream has ended............
Indoland is now in the past, the second phase of our Glbal Xchange has now started and here I am in Maryhill Glasgow where the weather is refreshingly cold and the sun sems to never set. I am working for the Princes trust and really also baby sitting the Indo's as they are like fish out of water and have no idea as to whats going on and cant fathom out anything at all. They are scared of seeing people sitting drinking outside a pub, scared of crossing the road, scared of the accent and scared to do anything un-Indoish. They even go so out of their way to eat only noodles and Indonesian foods. I knew that they wouldnt be asked to conform lik we did. For one they havnt the ability to as tey are so extreme in their beliefs and ways. But they have also been indoctrinated to be so, well so bloody Indo. They are so fundamenta theat they look at our culture as though they have desended into the fiery furnaces of hell. They even brought eith them so much bloody Indo food and not once can we get them to sample fsh and chips or a slither of haggis. I fully understand that they only eat halal meat but for gods sake try a bit of cheese fr the first time in your life. Dont come to Brirain and live in an Indo bubble.
The police gave them a talking to about safety as they alreday walking round in a group, jumpers tucked into waits bands that were up to their nipples and bloody socks and sandles were taken away on a trip by some complete stranger. Its so bloody ironic, the police told them as they were complete naive visitors to this country not to talk to strangers and the next day armed with bloody rape alarms which the copper gave them they go to Loch Lomonde with a random tey met in the street!!!
Dogs! Miftah is murder to live with, not only does he stink to high heaven and never use any form of deoderant but he is shit scared of the dog. So much so that when he walks around in the house he arms himself with that bloody ear splitting rape alarm and a spatula. He wont leave the house to do anything and wont even go into the room where the dog is. Get over it man!
Last days in Indolands
Our last time spent in Indonesia was a mixture of formal and informal farewells. We had a governors reception thing in Surabuya where they presented us with placques each and there were lots of speeches. But so many cameras that they all crwded round you and became irritating. The govenor a rotund moustached man gave speech after speech and some other chief honchos spoke and it was al rather tedious really. Back in Malnag we all had to stand up and say something as a sort of leaving speechs so I said a few things in 12 different languages whichI got off the internet and really had no idea about pronounciation at all. All of this of course was done in bloody batik. Batik is not forever gone, thank goodness that I have never got to wear that awful shite again.
So after the Indos fiorst ever flight and the first time they had ever left the country. We headed to Glasgow vis Singapore and London. Og wat a flight! I froliced in the free beers and gin al the time, when we got to Singapore airport we ran straight for the bar and it was cosktails all round. Wehave been back almots 2 weeks now and already I have had to carry Hugh home from his brithday night out. We went out on the town and lived it up. Only Brits of course you would never get an Indo coming out aftre 6pm. But what a cool night out we had. It was juts wat the dpoctors ordered, but the fuzzy head feeling the morning after as I woke up spralwed on Katies floor wasnt the greatest return home reminder of hardcore binge drinking after a long sabbatical!
When we irst got to Scotland vis our stop overs and randomhello I'm back send me socks and pants phone calles we went to our In country orientation for the Indos in the beautiful Scottosh town of Stirling. This place has actually got a statue of Mel Gibson at the castle. Yes a five foot nothing ststue that looks like a bleeding action figure, oh how braveheart boosted the Scottish tourist industry! At Stirling we had many sessions basically based at our naive friends from Asia on how to adapt and many team bonding sessins. Oh how I am sick of all that tripe. But ater a few days of reajjustment where I sampled many beers and cheeses to get my tates buds back to normal and managed to properly wash my clothes we went back to Glasgow to meet our host families.
I am yet again living with captain stinky and his awful bodily odours. But my host Mum who intridueced her self to me as 'I am your new mummy' is fantastic. Angela O' Sullivan is a great hoot, an Irish lady from Kenmare who ves fun and is a great person to stay up late drining Guinness with. She also has a dog which Miftah is scared of and hides from and she also loves a tipple so I am drink in the house and scare olf uber Islamic smelly pants out of his mind. Her dog 'mocca' is wonderful and hastaken to me. We regualryl run in the park eveymorning and he is my fitness buddy. Its great to be doing some sport again, we evengot free leisure passes so I canuse the locals gyms for free. The trouble is my local gym is near Ibrox (I worl near in Govan Hill) and there are alays bloody fights going on. Sort of area an English southern accent should be avoided. Hense my constant use of Australian!
I live on Maryhill road up to top by th station and her house is a beautifully converted tenement flat. Top floor with views over the par. glasgow as a city has the mots parks in Europe and some late night spots.I have orientated myself almost fully and I rem,embered where all the weatherspoons pubs werer from my visit here 3 years ago. We had a community welcome and even had a piper play for us. One of the Indonesians did a little dance of stage which to her anoyance I keep imitating and since our arrival, being met by the LOcal Member of the Scottish parliament and reporters aswell as the all the partners of this exchange and all the hosts and worki placemnts. We have also been a bit of a media frenzy up here. The locals rags and the national papers including todays Sunday times (which I get a menton in) have all asked us for interviews and they have concentrated on the shock value of the Indos coming from depravity to the UK to hlep. IOts not the norm really is it and it makes for shock news. But even though the papers have been full of us, Richard and Judy wanted in on the action but backed out as we then were not front page anymore and had our moment fame.
I am working for the princes trust here in a place called Govan Hill and there area is full of chavs and whet are called NEET people. Basically young people not in employment or education. I have my work vut out and especially as I am working with Ennik one of the Indos who needs constantly bady sitting. They are so out of their depth. But I am enjoying watching that waste of space Fifie the Indo supervisoor struggle. Its so funny seeing the indos shuder when they walk past Anne Summers or visibly look sick when they see a wino in the street. They are so sheltered and now have to face the real world. A world where alcohol is in your face, there are dogs and kidsshout obsenities at you. Luckily they havnt realised that when a kid shouts 'Chinkey' at them it is an insult!
So for a while I have been getting readjusted back to a normal life again. Drinking, eating copius amounts of cheeses exploring the city and babysitting the lost, dazed and confused indonesians. Luckily my host mum has said to me that I can leave Miftah for her to baby sit so I can go out and have fun. The Indos are intheir little bloody buddle here again and have not done anthing British at all. That annoys me as I dressed up in their bloody batik, danced in festivals, was made to wear traditional attire and ate all the spicy food that blew my socks off when I consumed it. They cannot even try anything or even set foot ina pub so have a look. They are little lost kids.
As for now I have joined the gym, been running with the lvely dog and visited many other volunteers host housese and their great host families. Tomorrow is the first full day at work and a routine. For now Indonesia is over, but rock on Glasgow!!!
Take care all and you dont have to read the newspapers articles which I have put on the end of this.
Love to all
Ben
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What the Sunday times said when we rocked up to Glasgow...................
The Sunday Times
June 25, 2006
Third World to aid Glasgow poorMarc Horne
IT HAS traditionally been a chance for gap-year students and skilled people from affluent backgrounds to do a good deed in the world’s most destitute spots. Now it seems Britain itself is a suitable case for help from the developing world.
The charity Voluntary Service Overseas (VSO) is bringing volunteers from Indonesia into some of Britain’s roughest housing schemes to help tackle deprivation that is sometimes worse than in their own homelands.
The visitors have been warned they will be working in areas with “shocking” levels of violence, drunkenness and other social ills.
Nine Indonesians, aged 17-25, will be sent for three months to districts of Glasgow. Paired with British volunteers, they will work on projects addressing poverty, racism and disability.
Here they will become acquainted with the city’s endemic crime, random violence and such terms as “a Glasgow kiss” (a headbutt) and “a Glasgow smile” (a mouth extended with a cut).
Under the programme, known as Global Xchange, young people from other developing countries have spent time in deprived areas of Birmingham, Luton, Bradford and Blaenavon in Wales. In return, young people from those British cities have been able to spend time in the developing countries.
Youngsters from Sri Lanka, Uzbekistan, India, Nigeria and the Philippines have also worked in parts of Bradford, Luton and Selby.
The Glasgow districts are among the most impoverished in Britain, with life expectancy rates below those of many developing countries. Average life expectancy in Indonesia is 66, compared with 60 for men born in Maryhill and Milton.
Rebecca Metcalfe, the project supervisor, said the visitors have been told to prepare themselves for the harsh realities of inner-city Britain.
“Before arriving in the UK, the Indonesians had preconceptions that they picked up from movies and adverts,” she said. “They saw the West as glamorous with everyone being affluent and having access to high-technology gadgets. But the next three months are really going to challenge those preconceptions.
“They are going to see and experience things which will surprise them. They are going to be shocked.”
The visitors, members of the Indonesian Scout Association, will live with families in Glasgow during their stay. They have been told that there are areas of the city where there are problems of drink and drug abuse and they have been briefed about the country’s growing secularisation, according to Metcalfe.
“Poverty in Glasgow is at a different level from Indonesia but it is a serious and very real part of life here.
“In Indonesia, most people never drink alcohol and drug use is very much underground,” she said. “They will be especially surprised at the number of young people who use drink and drugs.”
She added: “They were surprised to learn that people in the UK have the right to have no religion. In Indonesia it is expected that you must follow a faith.”
Indonesia is among the poorest countries in the world. The monthly average wage is around £40, and most people have to survive on less than £2 a day. According to figures published by Unicef, as many as 140m people, around two-thirds of the 210m population, live below the poverty line.What the Daily Record said...............
SCOTLAND GETS AID FROM THIRD WORLD
Volunteers braced for 'shock'
By Ben Spencer
ONE of the world's poorest countries is sending aid workers to Scotland.
Nine volunteers from Third World Indonesia will spend three months trying to tackle deprivation in Maryhill and Milton, Glasgow.
The districts are among Britain's poorest, with life expectancy for men some six years lower than in Indonesia- 60 compared with 66.
The group, aged 17-25, have been warned they'll face "shocking" levels of violence, drunkenness, drug abuse and other social problems.
They will stay with local families and work on projects addressing poverty, racism and disability.
The trip has been orgaanised by the charity Voluntary Service Overseas as part of Global Xchange.
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Rebecca Metcalfe, project supervisor, said: "The Indonesians see the West as glamorous with everyone being affluent and having access to hi-tech gadgets.
"The next three months are going to challenge those preconceptions."
The exchange bucks the trend of sending people from richer countries to the world's poorest regions.
The average monthly wage in Indonesia is about £40 - compared with £1943 in Scotland. Rebecca added: "Poverty in Glasgow is at a different level from Indonesia but is a serious and very real part of life.
"The visitors will be especially surprised at the number of young people who use drink and drugs."
A Glasgow City Council spokeswoman said: "We welcome people from all over the world on cultural and professional exchanges."
The sunday times article from july 2nd. I get a mention, oh fame at last!!!!
We thought you needed some help in the First World
Adrian Turpin meets the Indonesian volunteers who have come from the Third World to help the deprived of Glasgow
Oh, for the certainties of empire. Britain exported civilisation to its colonies, and the country was smug in the belief that this trade in values was strictly one way. Pity any Victorian imperialist faced with last week’s news, then, that nine Indonesian volunteers are being deployed to help in some of the most deprived areas of Glasgow.
Indonesia is one of the world’s poorest nations. Since its economy collapsed a decade ago it has struggled to keep pace with its Asian counterparts. The tsunami and the earthquakes dealt it further blows. Poverty is endemic. Britain’s Department for International Development says that 40% of the Indonesian population (roughly 86m people) live on less than £1 a day.
A cynic might say that seeking help from such a country is a bit like asking the Swiss to train your navy or hiring a national football coach from Sweden. But these statistics do not tell the whole story. In Indonesia the average life expectancy is 66, whereas in Maryhill — the area of northwest Glasgow where the Indonesian volunteers will spend three months — it is less than 60 for men.
The third most deprived area in the UK, according to a 2002 survey by the Child Poverty Action Group, Maryhill has some of the worst records for drug abuse, heart disease and unemployment in Scotland. Its streets are a jumble of ragged tenement blocks, iron-grilled chemist shops, tattoo parlours and fish bars.
It is not hard to see why the Global Xchange scheme should choose this part of the city. Run by Voluntary Service Overseas, Community Service Volunteers and the British Council, the programme’s aim is to pair a group of British 17 to 25-year-olds with their peers from a nation in the developing world. The group spends three months in each country, staying with local families and learning about each other’s lives. Unlike many similar cultural exchanges, however, they do useful charity work within their host community.
Potential for culture shock is great on both sides. But while 24-hour news has made poverty familiar to young Britons, in Indonesia the prevailing images of the UK remain Big Ben, Hugh Grant and trooping the colour.
“At home we never see any of the problems in Britain on television,” says one of the volunteers, 23-year-old Ennik Fajarwati. “When I heard about the scheme I thought, how can we in Indonesia do anything to help? We have created the stereotype that western countries have a modern life and society and won’t need anything.”
Fajarwati arrived in Glasgow nine days ago. It is the first time she has been out of Indonesia, the first time she has not eaten rice three times a day. She finds it hard to sleep in Glasgow because, unlike East Java, the summer sun in Glasgow does not set until almost 10pm.
British toilets, she giggles, take a bit of getting used to; so does the Glaswegian accent. What has she learnt so far? “In Britain you have to be on time in any situation,” she says. “In Indonesia we have rubber time.” But other things are harder to get her head round. “I find it surprising that people live longer in Indonesia than in some parts of Glasgow. I would have imagined it was the other way round. I thought the welfare system was very good in the UK.”
Fajarwati and her English pair, 23-year-old Ben Whateley-Harris from Essex, are to work with the Prince’s Trust in Govanhill, another pocket of deprivation on the city’s south side. Their project is to encourage social enterprise and is one of five pilot schemes across Britain.
“What we’re asking them to do is get out on the street and engage the young people,” says Ken Imrie, the Trust’s Glasgow manager. Imrie hopes that, as a Muslim and a woman, Fajarwati may be able to reach sections of the community that would otherwise be neglected.
Glaswegians may be shocked to be receiving charity from the Third World, but what is happening there may offer a glimpse of the future. Increasingly the university-educated elite of the developing nations (to which Fajarwati, the daughter of a teacher and a navy officer, belongs) will not be content to stay at home but will seek the same opportunities as their western counterparts; keen to do a little good in their gap year while polishing their CVs. And where better than Britain?
Instead of nursing wounded pride at accepting help from afar, we should be grateful. There are, after all, parallels. The National Health Service would grind to a halt without Ugandan doctors, Nigerian nurses and the like. Last January Médecins du Monde, the medical charity, launched a clinic in east London because it believed the state provision was not adequate. If that doesn’t dent misplaced First World pride, nothing will.
The Sunday Times Review 2nd July 2006
We thought you needed some help in the First World
Adrian Turpin meets the Indonesian volunteers who have come from the Third World to help the deprived of Glasgow
Oh, for the certainties of empire. Britain exported civilisation to its colonies, and the country was smug in the belief that this trade in values was strictly one way. Pity any Victorian imperialist faced with last week’s news, then, that nine Indonesian volunteers are being deployed to help in some of the most deprived areas of Glasgow.
Indonesia is one of the world’s poorest nations. Since its economy collapsed a decade ago it has struggled to keep pace with its Asian counterparts. The tsunami and the earthquakes dealt it further blows. Poverty is endemic. Britain’s Department for International Development says that 40% of the Indonesian population (roughly 86m people) live on less than £1 a day.
A cynic might say that seeking help from such a country is a bit like asking the Swiss to train your navy or hiring a national football coach from Sweden. But these statistics do not tell the whole story. In Indonesia the average life expectancy is 66, whereas in Maryhill — the area of northwest Glasgow where the Indonesian volunteers will spend three months — it is less than 60 for men.
The third most deprived area in the UK, according to a 2002 survey by the Child Poverty Action Group, Maryhill has some of the worst records for drug abuse, heart disease and unemployment in Scotland. Its streets are a jumble of ragged tenement blocks, iron-grilled chemist shops, tattoo parlours and fish bars.
It is not hard to see why the Global Xchange scheme should choose this part of the city. Run by Voluntary Service Overseas, Community Service Volunteers and the British Council, the programme’s aim is to pair a group of British 17 to 25-year-olds with their peers from a nation in the developing world. The group spends three months in each country, staying with local families and learning about each other’s lives. Unlike many similar cultural exchanges, however, they do useful charity work within their host community.
Potential for culture shock is great on both sides. But while 24-hour news has made poverty familiar to young Britons, in Indonesia the prevailing images of the UK remain Big Ben, Hugh Grant and trooping the colour.
“At home we never see any of the problems in Britain on television,” says one of the volunteers, 23-year-old Ennik Fajarwati. “When I heard about the scheme I thought, how can we in Indonesia do anything to help? We have created the stereotype that western countries have a modern life and society and won’t need anything.”
Fajarwati arrived in Glasgow nine days ago. It is the first time she has been out of Indonesia, the first time she has not eaten rice three times a day. She finds it hard to sleep in Glasgow because, unlike East Java, the summer sun in Glasgow does not set until almost 10pm.
British toilets, she giggles, take a bit of getting used to; so does the Glaswegian accent. What has she learnt so far? “In Britain you have to be on time in any situation,” she says. “In Indonesia we have rubber time.” But other things are harder to get her head round. “I find it surprising that people live longer in Indonesia than in some parts of Glasgow. I would have imagined it was the other way round. I thought the welfare system was very good in the UK.”
Fajarwati and her English pair, 23-year-old Ben Whateley-Harris from Essex, are to work with the Prince’s Trust in Govanhill, another pocket of deprivation on the city’s south side. Their project is to encourage social enterprise and is one of five pilot schemes across Britain.
“What we’re asking them to do is get out on the street and engage the young people,” says Ken Imrie, the Trust’s Glasgow manager. Imrie hopes that, as a Muslim and a woman, Fajarwati may be able to reach sections of the community that would otherwise be neglected.
Glaswegians may be shocked to be receiving charity from the Third World, but what is happening there may offer a glimpse of the future. Increasingly the university-educated elite of the developing nations (to which Fajarwati, the daughter of a teacher and a navy officer, belongs) will not be content to stay at home but will seek the same opportunities as their western counterparts; keen to do a little good in their gap year while polishing their CVs. And where better than Britain?
Instead of nursing wounded pride at accepting help from afar, we should be grateful. There are, after all, parallels. The National Health Service would grind to a halt without Ugandan doctors, Nigerian nurses and the like. Last January Médecins du Monde, the medical charity, launched a clinic in east London because it believed the state provision was not adequate. If that doesn’t dent misplaced First World pride, nothing will.
Indoland or Bust 11ish
ROCK ON THE CROUCH! NEXT TIME DO THE ROBOT DANCE.
ROCK ON THE CROUCH! YOUR GANGLY BUT I LOVE YOU!!
Well caress me bottom and call me McFiddle, its that time again. Strap yourself into the seat of destiny and down a shot of snakes blood as it is that time of the month when Ben enlightens you on his unbridled fun anf filthy antics in Indoland. Its Indoland or Bust number 11..............
Peter the Crouch what a legend. How can a gangly man like that be so maaizingly funny and at the same time a quality footballer. Its turly odd watching his limbs move around the pitch. But his goal brightened up a dreay game where England played lik they didnt want to be at the worlds biggest tournament. Pull your socks up lads, Sven show some passion you lame tosser and for crying out loud how quality was little Aaron Lennon?
Last day at the Red Cross.
I rocked up to work with old Miftah chub chubs and soon they had ushered us into a room and sat us down at a long table with some odd oozing delacasies on them which I refused to touch as they looked like leperous seeping wounds. It all turned out to be a little thankyou ceremony with all the chief honcho's and the little cheeses on our behalf. I was shocked as I was juts expecying a few handsaheks and the cerificate which I corrected the spelling on. But instead it was Mass Ben speech time as I had to stand up in front of the room of the Red Cross big wigs and make so silly impromptu speech about what I had learnt and what I had done and seen! Oh the joy!
After Miftah had translated it all I was stunned again. But this time it was a nice shock as the chief, chief, uber big boss man came into the room and presented both Miftah and I with some sort of large wooden plack with a brass front on it. It was like recieving an Indo Oscar really. It was a large heavy thing and I have juts done a trial run packing my bag and have no idea as to where I am going to put it. But that was not all I got. I was presented with a large wrapped box and old moody guts Fajyar who cheered up today made me ripp it open as I posed for photos with all the honchos and cheeses. Inside was a blood pack box and inside that was the strangest thing I have ever seen. It was a bamboo carved duck whacker. A thing that you hit a little stick againts it. All the sleers and vendors use them as it makes a piercing noise. Therefore for the rest of the day at PMI I pissed around banging it and shouting soto ayam (chicken soup). I went around the labarotories and invaded all the rooms. This however wasnt the end to the prestnts and I felt so guilty recieving them. I did present the place with a framed London postcard. I know it sounds tacky but it looks raher pro if I do say so myself. Alia a lovely girl who works in the blood room gave me a miniature Islamic drum and a miniture gong. They are tiny and really delicate but I was so touched by it. I never in the least expected to get anything at all apsrt from the laminated cerificate (easy wipe you see, juts like the argos catalogue). The limping crutch wielding 3 wheeled motorcycle driving alcoholic man in the office then hobbled up to me and the stench of rice wine made my eyes water. But he made me smile as he presented me with a bottle opener and said to me 'When drink, think me'. That was really nice as many times have I shared rice wine with him and his blackened teeth. I was so moved by all this kindness that I wish I had the money to go out and buy soemthing better for my work placemtn. But hopefully the fact that my uber massive 6000 plus words proposal which has been sent off to many Red Cross organisations around the world will be my lasting legacy as hopefully they can sit back and watch the cash roll in. I know thatt is a scenario for an ideal world but you never know.
The farewells started to hot up the night I left PMI as we had a host family and also a volunteer workplacement leaving ceremony thing. We have some official bollocks tomorrow where they have asked us to wear batik. Oh what a shame I accidently lost mine or it may suffer a spontaneous combustion in the carpark. This baytik bollocks ia an ugly printed materiual which is the Indo national dress or somehitng like that. In my eyes it is horrendously awful and I refuse to wear it. It break a fundamantal human right in freedom of expression if we are told to wear it. My expression is not to look like a complete toss pot waering the most awful shirt know to man. But the two stooges or projest supervisors to give them their proper title will probably kick up a fuaa like they always to at any thing tricvial. 'Its for the good of the team', they will say or some oither tosh like that. But I am not alone with this oppinion. I dont want to wear it and either does most of the Brits. Its juts too awful for words to describe. Its the sort of thing which keeps kids awaka at night and the sort of thing that makes people want to go blind by seeing.
Anyway away from that rant now. The farewell thing was utter balls. The event was painful to wacth and sit through where the worlk placement and then at a later one in the evening the host families spoke on the microphone while Rizky or screaching Ennnik with her pigeion feet transaletd it all. The picture slideshow of Hoogies digital photos played in the background and as it flashed photos onto a big screen through a projector there was a gasp from the Indos. Suddenly the pictures of us in the swiming pool flashed up. You see the Brits went for a swim as all the Indos even though they live on the worlds largest archepelego cannot swim. So we went swimming and as there were no Indo's there to cry at the sight of flesh (oh the wicked flesh) we could lounge around in next to nothing. I do this any way but for the girls it was a relief to show shoulders and to uncover their legs. But when these photos of scantily clad bodies popped up the gasp created an atmosphere thatt could have been popped by a pin. A bubble of 'oh my god' from the Indos!
This is somehting that they will have to get used to come Scotland. As as soon as the sun comes out in Britain we Brits take off clothes and bask in the sun. This will offend the Indos terribley who if they were to go swimming would fully cover up. Also I cannopt wait to see their faces when I have a free Tiger beer on singapore airlines. If one of them is sitting next to me they will think that the devil himself has manifested itself into my beer! Oh rock on with their cultural deveoplment. We Brits were asked to conform in so many ways, shapes and forms and I bet the Indos cant and further more wont be asked to conform or try to adapt like we have been doing so. For example I cannot evenb see an Indo enetering a pub even if no one in the group is drinking. Its juts silly really!
I am deading tomorrow formal send off from the city of Malng at the Myaors office. I bet they try and make us sing again. I have to recite a poem on laguage and I will be standing up and saying it in Indonesian. Therefore my pronounciation will be the Indonesian version of 'allo, allo'. Then we rock off to the beach. I cant wai. But before that its more football into the late hours of the morning! Last night they went mental for their former colonial rulers Holland. How strange!
Tonight I will stay up cheering on Ghana. My African mistress! Rock on the black stars!
Indoland or bust 10
7th June onwards
On a beach out of reach somewhere very far away!
Well soon to be anyway when we all depart for our Indonesian debrief session at the seaside!
I cannot wait. After all this city action the chance to relax and bask in the sea like a randy whale is all too good to be true. But of course there is some uber bollocks of a leaving Malang ceremony organised by the locals for us. I know what it will entail. Loads of speehes by people trying to look important and many hands to shake. Also maybe they will try to make us sing again, not on your bloody nelly mate!!!
So whats has been happenign of late then? Quite a lot I cxan assure you. So now get ready for another marathon of mine recollections as I embark on my Indo bimbo journey into the unknown. You have better had your larium because you are going to need it!
The other day a few of us decided to visit Singosari temple on the outskirts of the city. I had been there before when Mr. Lamide decided to drive the blood bus up to it for no reason. But this time we invited the entire team and yet again only our 'exclusive group'! Oh yes our littl eband of frineds have been branded exclusive. This is yet another fantastic example of how blind the supervosors are as the Indo have their little 'we love to go to the mall' group and the ';uber religious prayer group'. But as they are not British they get away with it all and as we funnily enough are Brits we get the flack for it. Its a real case of not seeing the wood for the trees and the pot calling the bloody kettle bacl. I hate all this bolcoks and this programme has really throen up loads of ludicrous bollocks! So anyway back to Singosari. We rocked up and explored the ancient ruined temple. I clambered into the catacoombs and the insense made my eyes water. We explored and tried to dodge Malang tv who juts so happened to be there. Everywhere we go there bloody mini van is already there filming some bollocks or asking us for an interview. After my vagina antics I am not allowed to speak to them any more. But I have, ha ha. I even said that Mlang is a wonderfully egregious city on camera!!!!!!!!
Singosari is a small village area within the city outskirts. This is an odd composition as you get the old traditional bel embellished horse pulling carts with a shouting man with a large whip on the reins next to a modern and quite luxurious buliding. It truly is a contrast, and then you see the temple.
When we were walking away from the temple some man came up to me and showed me a picture of a giant pot bellied Buddha statue. Low and bloody behold and how the nutcrackers had I missed it before was a massive buddha staute juts 100 yards up the road. But as we appraoched another one popped into view. I couldnt resiet bt yo go up close and rub his rotund belly! The other day I caused Indo squirms when I gave full cuppage to a gint gorilla statue in a garden that had a wee willy winky poppoing out. It was raing and there I was posing with his little fella in my hand. This was like a true sin to the Indos who rolled their eyes and gasped!!!!!
On the way back we found a delight ful little shop seling bronze casts of Buddhas, woven bags and carvings galore. Hoogie then bought his second drum of the Global xchange programme (yes it is spelt stupidly with juts the X), how the devil is he going to get those two big buggers home!!!! Anyway we were checking the merchandise out in the shop and fingering the stupa statues and playing with a model of vishuns bottom we noticed that art the back of the shop a rather strange cermony was in progress!
What was this we all wondered and the five bandits in crime looked on (Katie, Faemondo, Hoggie no show, Daisy Duke and your humble narrator). Suddenly they saw us loking and invited us into their home to gate crash what would turn out to be a traditional Javanese wedding. This stragne but enchanting spectacle was one were the groom was no where to be seem and the door to a lrge cermonial and matremonial bed was left ajar. The priest man in his Javanes attire with knife in belt little pointy hat and a microphine spoke while his silver pocket watched dangled on it chain. The bride was sitting in what can only be descirbed Indo scantily clad atttire, in other words her shoulders were showing. Oh heaven forbid she was showing flesh, run for the Hills Indos the flesh is out. Dont look boys you may go blind! Well she sat there and was being fed shot glass after shotglass of translucent liquid. What it was I nevr discovered but I suspect that it was Holy water. Anyway we couldnt fathom out whether it was an Islamic, Buddhist or Hindu wedding as statues from all those three faiths littered the scene. A large mainting of mecca hung on the wall, a astutue of buddha sat on the floor nest to Shiva and Vishnu dancing. So it was life the title charester from Liufe of Pie in a sence!!!! Sorry got all bookish then!
we watched but I felt quite uncomfiotbale as I was standing there in my cut down shorts and a scraggly old Indo sun bleached t shirt with my mighty boosh of hair waving around like a beast from the East,, while all the Indo's in attendance were dressd in beautiful flowing white silk garments. Even the men. So we all snuck out throught he kitchin with strange expressions on our face. We waved as we departed and then skidaddled back into town via the multi coloured angkots almost being run over en route.
Since then I have been rather actively popping into other peoples work placements to help out with small Community action days and help with odd jobs. We rocked up to SKB which is a school for homeless and street kids and helped hoe the garden. A day with a hoe, can you imagine anything more fun than spending time with a good old worn in hoe. Oh there inuendos will get me into trouble. I muts tell you that if you ahve a younger host brother of sister in your host house then the ciorect term to address them (you never use first names here) is to call them 'dik'. Yes you can say morning dick to your host brothers and sister. Any one else is called, Pa (man), mass (bloke of your age) or Bu which is for a married woman! So you never say morning Dave or hi Fred how are ya. Oh I want a Razil shirt with FRED 21 one the back of it. I love the fact that Brazilians have fantastic names such as: Ronaldinho, Ronadlo, Roberto Carlos, Kaka (ha ha) and Robinho. But also in the Brazil squad it Fred. What a legend, what a name!
Well we worked in the blistering sun at SKB while some man wanted to taklto us about business. This has been happening to rather a few of the British volunteers recently. Poeple claim to be from the local government but in truth they are people who want to get a token Bule (whiteperson) to help promote and sell their wares!!!! While we worked in the garden at SKB sprinkling seeds in the soil and hoeing away liklt the bitches we are a random man with an uber tash helped out. The reason I mention him at all is that his t shirt is the stuff that legends are made from. His t shirt said 'Wako University'. There really is a university called that in Surabuya. But do you have to be a complete wako to go to it? I guess so as he fit the bill fantastically!
Apart from SKB I also popped along to help finishing the painting at the YPAC school where another volunteer pair ply their trade. The art centre lads have turned the place into one massive mural and I look on in envy as the painting is too good to be true. Its horrible jealously, but I am so jealous of their talents with a brush and a palet. Oh I wish I could paint like that, but alas I cant so I befriended them all instead and put my jealousy aside.
Our 'team' had a large scale CAD (Not as large scale as pagelawan) at a place called Budhi Mulyah. Thi is a school for blind people from 15 to 35 years. There we helped plant the garden, leading the students by the hand and helping them to rummage in the soil was a great experience and I loved it. But the best part was that the school traisn the older students how to become massueses! It was great as we all got massages and bloody hell the bloke who did me ripped the shit out of my calves. I couldnt walk after wwards. But stupidly I hadnt learnt the Indonesian for 'not so bloody hard' before hand. We all lay on the beds in a long row as Ibby bloody filmed us and zoomed in on Miftah's special areas decalring that he had a chopper! Later Miftah said to me 'what is chopper', when I told him his face was disgusted! I hobbled from the masaage rather embarressed as I fell asleep and got a semi on. It was so embarressing to do so, but the bloke was blind so wouldnt notice. But he massaged my arse crack and loved to fondle the cheeks. Dont worry this happened to all of us and the girkls quite enjoyed it, but some wont admits it. But they all looked flushed afterwards. I was ripped to peices in my legs as his Iron rod fingers had destroyed my legs. So now walking was hard going!
Relaxation has been few and far between in Mlang now. The fact that we are all busy prevents us from getting any rst. But we have found the time to sit and chat over numerous coffess in OEN the dutch cafe. It is like cheers in there as everybody knows your name. The staff seem to like us and we can joke with them and play jellow jilbab (same as yellow car). The customers are mostly affluent sods who sit poking their noses at us whle we sip the cheap drinks. May of the clientele are old ex pat Dutch people. They come in all shapes and sizes from young to the grotesquely chubby who fill the wicker seats and the floor around them. Bulding bellies hanging over their knees. How do people let themselves get like that? One Dutch bloke looks like Groucho marx as he actually has and I kid you not got a painted on moustache! What a legend! He loves to talk to me as they all think I am an Australian. I keep telling the people there and only yesterday aid it again, that I am 'Ingriss" and not an Aussie! But apart from OEN we founf another cafe. In Buddhism they have somehting taht looks very similar to a swaztika. This is adormed all over this cafe. So we call it the Nazi cafe or Hitlers rest! But they serve coffee with susu (milk) and its hard to get milk here. Getting cheeses is like getting blood out of a stone!
The greatest thing of all happened though. The world cup has kicked off. Woo hoo football heaven. The only problem is that all the matches are late at nigt as the time difference here is about 7 odd hours. So I have had a few all nighters up watching the tv cheering on the abismal England. Come on THE CROUCH, I want to see the robot dance. Trinidad were bloody marvelous with Sir Sjaka Hislop pulling of a masterclass in goalkeeping. The Aussies got the loudest cheer from the Indo students who live above me. That was a social experiment and a half. As the Indos hate the japs, bloody hate them because of the war. But they are not too freindly with their neighbours accross the water in Oz. So who would they support as they went mental for South Korea when they beat the plucky Togo. But the Aussies got the loudest roof roaring cheer of all when they beat the japs. The streets were filled with people shouting and runing around. At one pint I thoughtthat they may even turn over a car or two. But before they could do any real celebrating they realised that they were Indonesian and went back to being boring and non spontaneous!! Strange country!
Tonight we play Trinidad and my lack of sleep in recent days ( the matches here are from 8pm - 10pm, 1pm-1am and then 2am to4 am. So as I get uyp at five to be at work I get one hour of sleep a night. Well its more like 45 minutes as the lady with the massive facial goitre starts to cook and fry shit outside my window at 4.30 am. Then the students rev up their bikes which are also parked out side my wobndow. Then I get up to discover that the bloody house cats, those pecky filthy bastard have pulled my washing off the line. Shat on it or once they blldo gave birth on my t shirts. Those kittens are mine by right now!!!!!
But what a feats of football we all have. I wont go on about it any more ut we did a sweep stake here and I got bloody Croatia. Come on the Craots wont do bugger all. My outside bet apart from obviouslt saying England is the Czechs as they sent the yanks tariling. Good jb too, we cant have those bloody yanks getting to the quarter finals again and people thinking that they are a force in world football. Bescides I have never forgiven them from calling our beloved football soccer!!!!
The England game was the only one I have ever watched in my adult life without a beer and on my own in the house. It was strange doign that and quite lonely!
Yesterday (14th June) we allhad an EAD at the buddhist temple in Malang. There we had a massive discussion about religion and as it transpires Indonesia is breaking one of the fundamental Human rights and all the Indosa are blinded by religion to see it. In Indonesia it is against the law to be an agbnostic or an athiest. You HAVE to have a religion. Therefore the freedom of choice, expression and belief are being ignored by the Indonesians. We tried to get into their bloody skulls that this wasnt right and that you should have the freedom to believe or not belive as the case may be. But the Islamic blinkers were on and they couldnt fathom out that any Indonesian would ever want to not be religfious. Thsat the blody point you morons, you dont give them the choice you make them have religion and its juts nopt on and not right. They then said that if you have no religion in Indonesia you are considered a communist and arrested as communism is illegal. Therefore I am a communist and will now call all the Indos comrade and wave a red flag all the time./ They are so sheltered here that they have no persepctive about the wider picture of life. it truly sickens me to think of a baby being born and then parents going. Right you are forever now on a Muslim and if you stop you will be arrested. It is sick and wrong!
The rest of the day we spent learning about the ways of the Buddhists and being shown around their glorius temple. Oh how wonderful it was the dragons with southend on sea gren lights for eyes. The lions guarding the entrances, the chinese symbols and writing everywhere. The smoke from all the many jossticks burning filled the air and then we were shown how to use acue pressure.
The man who guided us round a Pa Hanon was an expert at this and when he poked my arm in a certainplace it felt as though I had been struck by ighting.
We also had a session on meditation and he commented and said I was the 'deepest' out of the group. This meant that I achived it rather than falling asleep! I muts have when thinking about it as I followed his instrcutions and suddenyly it was time to get up. The time inbetween lapesd to me and felyt like only a few seconds!
At work I have been put and about with the blood bus or mobile unit to give its real name. We have visited many universities and institues and at each one. The large driver with the uber mullet Mr. Lamide with the long finger nails, the chairman maeo dress and the potched skin pimps for me. I get there set up and suddenly he has dissappeared only to reappear later with loads of Indoesian girls who 'want to speak to me'. No they juts want to see what a white man looke slike and poke him and ask the same questions aover and over and over again in pigin Englsih. I have been asked whether I am married so ma y times and then they giggle and say 'you very handsome man'. Now both men and women say this to me whioch is most confusing. But I am only handsome to them because I am different. My whiteness and hair looking like a banshees armpits makes them intrigued and want to know me!!!!!!!
Painting has been a constant source of fun this week. After the job we did at Pagelawan where we painted murals with water basde paint on the outside walls so they will come off when the rainy seasons come, then there was the YPAC antics and now finally Hoogie no show creme brulee's house. His host mother Bruindra who I call Brunhilda saw the photos of the murals at Pagelawan. The place where the school is so ramsghackle and falling down but the mosque next door is pristine, funny that! Anyway she saw the pictures and asked could we rokc up to hers and wield our brushes and cause trouble. We were given a lcense to kill and I painted a massive St. George wielding his big old sword on the wall with fluttering flags and banners waving in the breeze behind him. The one of the therepist at his house (I forgot to mention that his ost home doubles as a school for autistic kids) asked me to draw poo! Well I was juts about ready to start mixing a nuty brown when I realised that she was holding a picture of the poxy bleeding teletubbies and she ment can I draw and paint Po. Not poo. I explained what poo is as in Indonesia poo is a kind of food that looks slimy and comes in bags! I told her this and she seems most perturbed. But I also think that this was because standing on benches reaching up to paint my belt wasnt o tight enough and you could see my arse crack. On no not the flesh again, run for the hills Indos!! The finished mural looks great and all the time you ha dto suddenly jump down from your lofty position to catch a kid hurtling towards the paint pots. Some of the kids were absoltely adorable and one kept sticking his tongue out at me. Of course I was encouraging the little blighter to the annoyance of the therapist who was trying to tech him colours. One little kids came up to me and held my hand while I painted. His little grin spoke a thousand words!!!! When we left 3 kids waved and blew kisses to me!
Tomorrow is my last working day here in Indonesia before we fly out to Glasgow to start the UK leg of this 6 months global exchange. I feels odd to be leaving and the time has flown by so quickly. It feels like only yesterday when I was getting told off for bringing beer into an Islamic house and being accosted as my pants were visable. It seems strange to think that soon I will be home, well almost and havng ants nest in my shoes over night will be a thing of the past. British news papers will be a treat, even the dodgy ones. But the thing I am lookinf forward to the most apart from a damn good pint is none other than cheese!!!
So tomorrow is my last day and I have sorted out a wee surpirise for my workplacement. I have prepared a photo frame with pictures of London in it to present to them. Its onyl small but I have wriotten on it Terima Kasih which means thankyou. Matur nuwon also means thankyou but you can alomost sing terima kasih. I do this a lt when saying thankyou. I also in OEN today while pising around started doing a panty dance in front of the women wokign there juts to see their rection. They actually thought that I was dancing to the off key painist perfomring especially fior a group of old wrinkly Dutch people sitting on a central table. I have also have done the same with the framed picture postcards for my freaky incestious host family and the big boys in the gym who like nothing better than to give me deep feied bananas and to touch me up while I am in mid weight lift! This could cause trouble as some times there I am straining awyay in a skimpy vest trying to look as hard as nails when some geezer gooses me and I go 'ooooh' loudly and they al giggle and say ; ah London, london Arsenal yah'! The last framed card is for the man in OEN that serves us and always chats and is really friendlty, but the bad thing is that we have never learnt his name at all. So its too late now but he gets a thankyou carsd anyway.
My host father olf Pa Agung or 'Oweeeeee' as he likes to be know is nothing more than a lazy slob who sleeps on a mattress in front of the tv while I am watching spain demolish the uKraine warpped up and curled up in an almost clinch post coital position with his 21 year old daughetr. This is sick and wrong but they penly do things ike that. She even hands feeds hiom. When I say hand feeds him. He will sit on the floor wacthing the tv while she using her fingers scoops rice and meats into his mouth. In Indonesia you eat with your fingers but with someones elses give over a minute!
He went away paragliding orjuts being fat you decide? Anyway he buggered off and with that all the open house abusing bastards who tag along went away too. Therefore I was eft with some peace and quit. I would like to emphasis the some bit! But now he has returned tall those sods have rocked back up and they create havoc. Its back to the 'oooh look a white man, klets touch him and shout his name at any given moment to see what he does, lets even try and read his diary over his shoulder. Oh look hes getting angry, Ouch the Bule hit me!'. As soon as they all rocked back up they all suddenly took a liking to football and watched all the games shouting at the tv and havin no idea about the sport at all. That really annoys me as I love my football ist is my religion and these sods ruin it for me. Shouting goal when the shot sailed so high over the bar that it could clip an eagles wings! I juts cannot believe how lazy and gout like my host father is. I dont like cal;ling him my host father as I belive I live i rundown stuident accommodation where evryday I have to qwrite the number of items I put on the washing line on the back of my hand so I know when they are pinching my boxers. They bloody dop as well juts baceuse they are calvin kleins and Indos where silly little girly panties they nick by sodding undies. I cannot wait to catch the sods at it. Also when I get home from work I find athat all my washing on the line has been ripped off thrown in the muid and there washing is on the place where I left it. When I catch the little basterds I will actually throttle them. I can narrow it down to 2 people and thses two both compained to Pa Agung and his lazy ways that I was scary and unapproachable. Well I will aproach them all right and knocj their door down and remove their teeth with my bare hands if I cathc them again,. It would do them a favor as Indo teeth are rotten to little black stumps as they put about 6 table spoons, not teaspoons in their small cups of tea!!
The time has come for us to depat this land and I will miss it for its ideocyncasies and its bizarre sureraeal oddness and ther customs which want to make me scream. But I wont miss their uber OTT Islamic ways. The Indos wont know ehat hit them com Glasgow. Alcohol is a demon to them and they would never step foot in a pub. Also they are terified of dogs as if they are lciked by one they have to wash 7 times and one with mud! Therefore I was delighted to discover all about what I will be doing and where I will be living in Glasgiow. Also to my joy we have a small yappy dog. Ha ha Miftah is going to shit himself! In Glasgow I will be woking with Ennik the pigeon footed uber religious Indo.Her face was a picture when she discovered that she had to wotrk with the hedonistic uber fun lovuing drinking debauchery mad and silly as hell Brit. Oh she tried to fein pleasure but he face let her down. cannot wait to work with her and say Ennik 'ITS IMPOLIE' In a high pitch nmock Indo tone. She always is the first to criticise me when I do something as trivial as look at the food before I choose it and then she in her screeching of a voice with fingers bending backwards and long flowing skirts made from grandmothers velvet curtains says 'its impolite'. There are a few of the things which she has said are impoliote to me: scratching my belly, sneezing, saying 'ooh thats hot' when eating spicy food, looking at food before I choose what to eat, saying that an idea is ludicrous and the pierce de resistance caloing Anhah Annie all the time. I cannot wai to say. Have you been scratching your arse clean again Ennik, is there risidual poo under your finger nails. Your velvet skirt is im polite, itrs all impolite your in Britain now love its our gaff our rules get over it your sheltered bint. Oh how I want to do in her voice those words that irritate me so.
Its also true that Indos to clean their arses aftyer a release of chocolate hostages wipe it with their hands. Daisy had to do a demonstration (clotehs on of course) about using toilet paper as they wre all perplexed by the sight of it! Britain will kill them all. Miftah reckons he can handle it as he has been oj a course! I would love to have sat in on that load of bollocks. It was probably an indoctrination course about howe evil our western ways are!
What I have discovered about Glasgo is that I am working for the Princes trust will all sorts of people from refugees and asylum seeksre to kids with ASBO's. Rock on its gotta be loads better than the un English speaing silliness of PMI. Even though I am not working with old Miffy chub chubs I am still living with him. I am staying in Maryhill a notoriusly bad area of Glasgow and guess what I am about a mile from a place where there was a racial muder not long ago. Therefor the reason they put us in this location was because they wanted two people who could handle themselves if any trouble came up. Now that perplexes me as old Miftah screamed like a bady when he was being massaged by a blind bloke and when the man with the bad teeth but the ironicly charming smile acue pressured him. Therefore I think he wil start too runand scream at the slighetset sign of truble. I think he will spend all his free time in the host home. The host home and the new host family consists of an Irish lady. Who apprantly is a proper scream and like s adrink or two. Rock on. Also we have seperate rooms in our flat so no snoring Miftah for me!
Well I better finish up all this tripe soon. Lastly I want to telkl you that they love to sell randopm wigs in shops and the shop keepers get mighty annoyed when I try them on and also the Indos have expressed loads of fears about coming to Glasgow, but the best of all was Ennik saying that we needed to get a boat to Glasgow as it was on som island off the coast of Ebngland. No love thats Ireland. I know scotlandf and ireland have Land in their names but they are different ok! Its juts like Indoland but colder love!
So tomorrow is my last day at work and the ost family and vo,lunteer placemet review where they come in and tell the project superfishmongers about whet we have achieved and all that tosh and rummy!
So til I write again, watch the world cup and tonight at 11pm Indo time England play Trinidad and Dwight Yorke Tobago. Coem on your 3 lions. Pull your finger out sven and make some attacking substitutions for a cghange and leave Owen Hargreaves on the bloody bench.
Rock on England!
Take care and have fun and remember this random fact! The Ivory Coast international football goalkeeper Jean Jacques Tizie has only got one bollock!!!!
Loads of love and pants dances
Ben
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Indonesia or Bust 9
27th May 2006
So let me begin at the very beginning today. I was lying awake in my bed as you cannot sleep past 5 am as the house comes to life and people rev motorbikes fry foot outside my door and make such a general racket that sleep becomes impossible. I was lying there and suddenly I realised in my dozing and drowsy state that the room was shaking, I first thought it was a motorbike or something and then when it hit me like a brick to the head that it was an Earthquake I jumped out of bed but it had stopped as quickly as it had begun. It was odd, the floor seemed to lurch, but nothing happened. No walls collapsed no dust falling from the ceiling, nothing.
I didnt know what to think so I looked around and all was in order. Not until I went to the internet cafe later on did I realise the extent of the damage. The epicentre was 25 miles from a central Javanese city of Yogjakarta. The city today is in ruins, over 2,275 people have lost their lives and thousands more are injured. I was shocked as the tremor had travelled al the way to East Java and made my room shake a little. I feel starnge knowing that something that made me jump out of bed has killed so many.
Its an awful feeling and it has taken th lives of countles numbers and so many more are still missing.
I muts now take a step away from the earthquake and tell you all the fun that has hapened. A big sopository of fun to brighten your day. To start with I was inteviewed by Malng Tv and I said vagina live on tele. This is an onruining joke with any Indonesian interviews that we do. I am dared to say 'vagina' and I do so. I am not one to back away from a dare.
June 3rd
This week after the awful earthquake has seen my work at the Red Cross double, tripe and it continues to rise. The blood stocks that were alreadty depleated by the 2004 tsunami had to go to the site. Therefore as I am only allowed to work in East Java I was left behind while the aid workers left to go to the 'Jogya' epicentre. Therefore this week I have been wotking my sweaty balls off loading aid trucks, sorting aids supplies and getting blood. I even donated blood my self. Giving the deeply thivk vein goo to the nurse who giggled at me throughout. I know what you are thinking 'are you mad, giving blood in a developing country'. But I opened the brand new box of sterile single use needle attacked in a air tight sterile package blood donation packs. They were shipped from the manufacturer in Singapore ad I throughly inspected it myuself before hand. Once I was satisfied I donated 250mils of blood. This is nothing in comparision to the pink that we give back at home. But still after wards juts liek when I donate in England I gfot up and the blackness set about my eyes. I started to see through a fog and felt sick. But before I could sufvfer the indignity of collapsing and faining. I somehow managed to in my blindness take off my trademark cowboy hat and put my sunglasses inside, place them on a table and walk or rather stumble over to a table lye down and raise my legs. I did this all unknowingly and was later told what I had done. All ther nurses still laught at me for this.
I have been all over the city collecting blood. Universities where I am mobbed because I am white, collegse, schools with thousands of female pupils and a handfull of meas who look daunted and scared all the time. I went to the military medical academy today and that was a laugh. The people there acted like they have never seen a white man before. I was bomberded with questions in pigin English and as my Indo languege has basically ended and stopped being learnt I answered them as best as I could. Before I knew it I was being paraded round the campus and was made to pose for photos galore. Then one trainee army nurse decided my leg hair was the best thing since sliced bread and started to painfully pluck it when I was unawares!!
Taking of unawares I haveben snapped again for the Malang Newspaper, called Radar Malang. ASgain when I least expected it I will appear in the news. This occassion wasnt for saying vagina at a Red Cross event but was while I was up a ladder painting spitfires, yes you read it cotrrectly spitfires on a wall of a specil needs school. A load of us have been going in the afternoons to decorate and paint thr Ya Pe Aceh school for special needs. This place is awful beyonds words. Th moment I enterd the smell of urine hit me. I was so moved and juts had to hold the poor kids hands as I saw the condition they were in. Large metal cots that can only be described as Medieval were in a room soaked with urnien while their writhing bed sore ridden occupants looked out vacantly. The poor kids have no life here. I will and I promise raise some money when I am back home as this place needs help drastically. Some kids were tied intot he cots to stop them from moving and when one poor lad started to cry a woman slapped him and shook him by his withered legs. I was lile slapping her a bit, but I refrained. The same woman I later saw hitting a downs syndrome boy with a shoe! All the carers are not actual carers. They juts work their and resent the mess that the children make. They have no passion or love for the children, to them they are a source of income. Therefore I witnessed poor kids lying in their own urine and their skin so red that it looked like it would come away at the touch. There was a woman in a cot lying there gurgling and what a life she has led. The poor love had bee there for 13 years. Not moving juts cot ridden for over a decade. Poor woman, I hated this place. It was so awful that how I disdnt crack up I dont know.
As we cannot save the world, but ewe can make a small difference with the small funds we had fundrised by having a stall selling cakes and 'whiteman things', where I painted peoples faces all day. This was done at the Red Crosses Konser Bahtit;. Whish is a large openaired keep fit session. Anyway we raised some cash and I had said vagina on tv and the cash was spent on a big project that we start tomorrow. But with the spare cash we had we purcahsed paints and brushes and transformed their room into a colurful collage with picture sof lions, my spitfires, flowers, bosta, people running and cpruple clouds adorned on the walls. It is not finished yet and wonders were worked by a group of lads accompanied by a fantastic artist who juts loved to steal the ladder while I was up the wall painting my dive bomber scens. This group added to our man power and in two days the entire room was alive with colour where before it was drab and dull.
Up a ladder painting planes was my duty. But to add a British feel of couse these planes became spitfires and I added rotorblades spinning and the RAF emblem to them. I enjoyed the painting and I hope the poor kids can get some visual stimulation from it.
To get back to the other occasions that I have appeared on either Maang tv or Jakarta radio I wil have to go back intime. A the first time I was filmed at the Malang festival dancing on a wicker horse \doing the kula lumping dance. The second time was at the maduran festival where yet again I was dancing around all dressed up (this is debatable if it was seen on tv) and then being interviewed by the malang tv crew at the konser bhakti event where people in leotards danced around and wobbled their arses. The radio interviewI was sipping a cool beer in dutch colonial cafe when some jakarta interviewer/DJ approached us and we all had to make comments on Malang. But alas I never heard the boradcast so it is debateble whether it was aired. Now hopefully I will be in tomorrows paper!!!
This week I have also been to a naval academy for one of the 'teams' EAD's. We were treated to a comedy video about lifeboat safety and a talk from a man who has obviously been told too many rude jokes by British sailors!!! But they let of flares that day in the blistering sun, so all was not lost!
7th June 2006
Pagelawan painting extravaganza. EAD ETC
The weekend juts gone saw a painting and renovation extravaganza at the Uber Islamic community of Pagelawan. I liek to say the name in a posh Terry-Thomas accent! This community seems a bit well to do really, as all the residents seemed to have rather loud lavishly furnished houses. So how they ahve let their local community school fall into such a state of delapedation I dont know. The school was filthy and falling apart at the scemes. The rooms were cluttered with broken chairs and the library had not asingle piece of paper within let alone a book!
The community is so Islamic that even the men have to cover up their shoulders and chest all the time. Therefore a hot humid slog was going to occur over the weekend as even our knees had to be covered. You woudl think that a group of whiteys comming to do up their school would be iven an allowance to wear shorts. But not in an Islamic country, oh now.
Its so ironic. Next to the school down a slope there is a pool carved out of the rock and fed by a stream and all the local (except fully vlothed women) were jumping in naked all the time.I swam in the pool three times. It was great but I was harrasses by naked kids pulling on their little man planks and shouting at me. Why is it that when a white man swims the kids try and follow him? Also why do they pioint at their bits and shout at you? Do they think that I have the power to make it less mini Indo or something. Needless to say I stayed in the pool until the nakedness of children made me run away from the pool.
The entire weekend was a great laugh and we tranfromed the school into a massive mural embellished palace!
It was an early atsrt at the weekedn and I knew that I would get filthy with paint. So I went with my t shirt (the one ruined by the rust stains, after one of my filthy ouse mates took it off the line and put it on the railing) with 'Jim fixed it for me written on the back for prosperity in red paint.
So we met early and immediatly we crammed into the car and off we went to Pagelawan. I am still getting the piss taken out of me by Katie for my pronounciation of this place name. We stiopped en route to grab the local rag. It was the Surya paper. A real local obscure one and low and behold who should get on the printed page but none other than the duo of Fae and Katie painting flowers around their door. Naomi was mentioned and the report was quite small, but press coverage is press coverage at least.
We drove for ages and when we reached Pagelawan surrounded by rolling cultivated rice padi fields and risen fileds with irregated water features, we discovered that we 3 (me, Katie and Fae who both were wearing awful britney and christina t shirts that i found in a shop) were the only ones not wearing those horrible new 3 tone green t shirts for the GX programme. My t shirt is a loody large and instead of it swamping me it is so bloody large that I am constricted by the thing that cuts into my tits.
Oh well at least everyone else looked like fools in their green and I had 'Jim fixed it for me on my back'! So we set about to work and the load of us along with a handful of locals with bloody hundreds of giggling and laughting kids staring at your every move we set to work.
First thing we all did was scrubb the walls. every inch was coated in a thick layer of filth. The rags literally fell apart that we scrubbed so hard. Then after that we all painted the undercoat of the 'lovely' aqua marine classrooms and all walls. I was hounded, every move I made little kids got under my feat and annoyed me. So I gave them a wall and some brushes and set them o work. I have never seen such a mess afterwards. We stopped for coffee breaks when we could procure hot water from somewhere and soon the coffee exculsive club was formed. So much to the extent that I was up a ladder and Fae came over and made a head gesture that beckoned me. This was then followed by hushed words of 'I have made you a coffee'. It was such an espionage event to get a coffee.
I spent the first day inbetween the odd food stops that they made us all have, painting. The food was filth, but I gulped down loads on the first day. So much so that my the time the latter food stops came round I carried on working throughout.
So what we first did was to paint the walls. All the walls. Then by the Kindergarten on the walls was an area reserved for murals and the like. I started to draw chalk outlines of two monkeys and the GX logo. All the time while I had been woring away like a busy bee, the sour po faced woman from the British council and the equally uber lazy Fifie (Project supervisor) sat watching me. Then as I was finishing my chalk outlines the latter waddled over to me and said that we 'dont need any of that'. Well I had just stood there drawing and you fucking watched me you freak. So I gave her the chalk and said 'you fucking well do it then' and walked off. I went into a class room where Daisy and Fae were painting the walls and being pestered by the bare footed little kid who ran around shouting 'Mr' all the time rolling the r to sound like a robot! I was required there to paint the top parts of the walls perched on a table as they couldnt reach and the tables were a might unstable. So I painted the walls all round and watched out the window as my Monkey outlines were painted and soon two colourful monkeys took shape. Fuck you I thought.
As the murals were taking shape after I finished the painting of the walls and left the locals to copy my actions for the second coat. I went over and painted on the wall a huge elephant and a tiger. This was all done with shading and colours mixed galore. I soon had a huge crowd round me. The white man paints!!! Fifie came up to me and tapped me on the shoulder. I took my earphones out and she said 'This is really good'. Well that wasnt an apology and I still cannot abide her so I said Yeah and put my headphones back in and continued painting.
My tiger and elephant was soonjoined by a parrot and I sat their covered in paint as I seemed to have gotten it all over myself. The little kids all gathereed round me would sometimes get a shout from me to clear them off as they seemed to get so close that they could fuck you up the arse and then sometimes I would get them to say the animals I was painting in Indo language. Theses kids just loved me. But were so bloody annoying!
Hugh had done a great job in organising the whole affair and was the one who got me back doing murals and drawing the elephant.
The school overloked the community swimming pool. A man made pool fed by the river. It was clear and clean and had little fishes just uike the Indo toilet basins swimming in them. I could see so many naked bodies swimming around and washing openly in it. So then if they can swim naked and run around on the banks naked, why do we have to cover up our shoulders and all that bollocks. This entire community is fucked! Ther so called community head was roaming around like a pompadore all weekedn and did less that Fifie PS and that was absolutely sod all.
Finally the daylight receded and the dusk fell around us like a blanket. Our work was done for one day and with the lack of light and no spot ligts or electricity of anykind at the school that was all we could do. I immediately went down to the pool that now no longer had loads of people washing in it and all the inner tubes were put away oput of my reach. I dived in and swam lenght after lenght. The water seemed to refrresh and rejuvenate my body and soul.
As Hugh had stayed the night here last night off we went to this massive and amaizing host home.
But as the host home was an Islamic one the mosque music which was a little boy and some geezer singing into a microphone was pumped into the house making the arabic ringing in your ears. The house was massive. I even had a chain where a chandelier would be one day hung. The thing was that the house wasnt finished and was half plastered and half concrete. But still compared to mine it was a palace of clenliness and they served us up beautiful food. Of course no one spoke a word of English but we soon found the two rooms we were occupiying. One for Indo boys and one for Hugh, Ibby and myself. With one large bed, but a balcony!
The host house was truly impressive. The floors were so clean that you couldhave eaten off them. There was a maid and also all the mod cons. Well the Indo version of mod cons.
We soon went over to one of the other host houses wre all the girsl were sitting up and we played games, chatted and drank cold tea until it was all quiet outside. This of course was 9pm as Indos all go to bed early. At the end only the Brits were up playing word association and names games. . We all chatted so much and the night was areal laught. But all good things muts come to an end so off to bed we went.
The badminton players in the street had all put away their cocks now!
Oh in tennis you have ballboys, but in profeshional or olympic badminton do you have cock boys?
We all went back to our host home, full of food and tea with loads of sugar. The Indos were all in bed and Miftah was snoring keeping Rizky and Anhah awake. Ibby who is terrified by everything wrapped himself in Hughs mossy net and went to sleep. We all got in the bed and soon were dreaming about all sorts of things. I awoke absolutely freezing and needed to get a top to put on. But unbekwnost to me Hugh had got out of bed and was sleeping on the floor. Therefore I stepped on his amd went flying.
At 3 am I was woken with a start. The bloody mosque with the tannoy inbuilt in this house was booming out at such a high level that no one could possibly sleep at all. The noise was terrific. Why do they have to do that?
The next day.
We emerged suffering from lack of sleep and after breakfast I went down and swam in the pool and washed to wake myself up. Katie went down at 5.30 and said with the early morning mist upon the water it was terrific.But alas I wasnt up early enough to do that.
Anyway today I worked my bollocks off again and even drank my coffee after naomi had washed her paint brushes in it! I started off up a ladder finishing off the wall and using a brush tied onto a stick to reach the top bits near the roof.
So the wall was transformed into a super mural. I painted an absolute extravaganza on the wall and was so chuffed with the end result. I painted real surreal items. A hot air baloon flying over head with 'Get high with Hoogie air' written on it with a person vomiting over the edge of the basket. I also painted a bear on a union jack guitar. A ringmaster with big ginger moustache and a whip in hand. A chicken on her eggs a parrot on the other wall near the tiger. A cheese zepplein dedicated to Katie and also came up with the idea to make the central pillar a hand prints mural of all the team. Of course all these randoms joined in and put their prints on the walls. I waited to last and put mine up right at the top in black and also painted a union jack and wrote my name as El capitano Benoit. Then I made the ringmaster have magic coming fom is hands and a fish and then drew a gorilla with lipstick on and boobies!
.We have made the school lok brilliant. The only trouble is that all the paint is water based and will probably rub off or wash off before we leave Indonesia. But no matter it made for a cracking photo.
The kids were out in vengeance again today and every step I made I seemed to tread on one who came right up to me to watch me paint. Even the adults came over and stood watching as if inspecting, but said nothing. Occasionall one would give the thumbs up. I was truly covered in paint though. My clothes were ruined and all the paint had seeped through to my skin and I was covered in all the colours of the rainbow and many more of my monkey mixes.
I had to go for a swim so I went down to the pool. I was followed by all the kids who by now all kept shouting 'Mr. Ben' all the time. I jumped in and swam around a bit. Splashing the cool refreshing waters all over my paint stained and dusty body. The banks were lined by those dropping trees where the roots come from above. The same trees in fact that are in alun-alun. But sadly as I swam around the kids all joined me. The problem was that they all just stripped naked and dived into the waters. They even pulled on their dicks. I was called so I turned round and a few of them were pulling on their todgers and pointing to them shouting. It was a bit too sick for me so I washed , got out and went back to the school where I caused a stir by walking through a near deserted playground with my shirt off! Oh I am such a naughty boy!
Finally we cleared up and all was done. We had to pose for pictures and we dished out the toothbrushes that we had bought for the kids. Endah gave a speech over the microphone about dental hygienne and showed the kids how to brush their teeth. Thats juts an example of things that need to be shown to many Indonesians as so many smiles contain disgusting teeth.
On the way hom we laughed and joked and also played yellow car with the introduction of yellow jilbab. We passed little tuc tuc things and when we got back we were all throughly knackered.
There apparantly was some fair in town and a few of the Indos wanted to go. I went with them and wish I hadnt. It did have a fun fair but their was a massive poxy cheapo maket and the Indos walked through at such a slow pace looking at all the tacky shit. I had to leave so bid by goodbyes and off I went via two angkots home.
The rest of my week has been mighty surreal!
I was accosted my random men in the bird market shouting 'hey cowboy, you very handsome man' at me and one of the nurses at the Red Cross now likes to pinch my cheeks like a small child. It hurts!
This week I have also discovered that there is an ulternative option to Indomilk the gloopy semen like filth that is in place of milk out here. This substance is called Max Creamer and the name is such a prono name that I love it.
This week we also rturned to finish off the painting at YPAC (why-pay-achay). This was the school where the poor little kids were rottign awa in heinous cots and one little lad wa shaken and smekcd for crying. My hear went out to them all and I spent my time playing with kids and paitning the walls a piss yellow. There was one kid who was so great. He was practicing his cunting with me and when he got to ten successfully he whizzed around whooping in his wheelchair with hands waving in the air.
Today 7th June 2006
Today was the day that Miftah and I ran our Educational activity day. It was at the Brawijaya museum and we met their early and played on a staionary tank in the otside garden area. The theme for the day was War; A warnign from the past, a lesson for the future. The EAD had both fun and serious parts to it. For example Miftah ran a blindfolded land mine navigation game for his fun part. For my fun part I played on the rooftop 'Bruce's play your cards right'. Yes I dod the nicfe to see you, to see you nice game and used war stats. I started comically like 'whats was the shortest war in history' an finished on a sombre harsh reality of casualty rates caused by warfare. The seious sessions were group discussions about four war related topics. The tipopics were: The enviromental impacts of war, Can there ever be a just war. The after effects of war and The war on Iraq points for and against
We also had a talk by some sargeant major in the Indo army who gave a potted history of Indonesia in the second world war. To finish the day I ran a museum quiz where we let loose the groups to find facts and figures and comical bits and bobs around the museum. One question was who is the dapper man with a moustache that Clark Gable would admire? The answer was that on the lits of Malang mayors over the years there was inbetween the unifromed vivic officials and army generals a man denim clad with a glint in his eye. He was none other than the mayor in the 70's. What a ledge!
To end on a high note this week I saw the touch up midget again! I was on an angkot going into the centre of Malang a while ago and a one eyed Midget (no I am not taking the piss) got on and tried to caress a woman leg. I watched in amaizement as he slowly edged closer and closer until he was almots ontop of her. Shje moved away and he moved closer again. It was pure comdey and his little hand then tried to rest on her thigh. She was of course having none of it and kept moving, but the little fellow persisted. Eventually he realised that he had been clocked by me and sheepishly moved away and sulked. But today I saw him and he saw me. He then huriedly crossed the road t avoid my smile!
Lastly I think I was attacked by lice this week. I showed two British girsl around the pasar basar (underground market) and when I emerged fromthe durty dead chicken infested bird flu trap of a labaryinth I was itching all over. So Every item of clothing I own had to be washed and de-louced!
Well I better be off as I have written far far far too much and if you have reached this far you should be rewarded with a Brucey bobus!
Take care my friends and lovers
Til we meet again
Keep on trucking
Love and tickles
Ben
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Remember 'no, no, no you can't touch the ferret'!
