Dateline Nyuh Kuning, outside Ubud, Bali, Indonesia, Friday, 11-22-13: Let me tell you a little bit about my developing close friendship with Pak Agus, Tims landlord and Balinese father, and my fast-becoming Balinese brother, the compound we live in, and our daily walks. Every morning its not raining, at 5 a.m. Pak and I, and sometimes Tim, go for a jalan-jalan, exercise walk. To get off the busy main jalan, street during rush-hour traffic, Pak has been leading us to a little jalan, path, through buildings fronting on the street, to a vast rice paddy behind the street building line. Its almost as if the buildings and warungs (stores) along the street are a fake Hollywood back lot row of buildings, behind which is this stunning farm land. Paks wife, Wayan, which means first-born in her family, is happy Im here because I like to walk for exercise and she wants Pak to get more exercise. So we walk along a kind of serpentine little path, next to the irrigation channel, between the rice paddies and other growing plants and trees, way out into the rice fields. Along the way we see the farm laborers cutting grass by hand and planting rice plant seedlings, also by hand, all the while bending over at their waists to do this back-breaking work. We also have run into an old man who sells fresh duck eggs for 2,000 Bali rupiah apiece (20 cents U.S. per egg). He takes them from the duck pen, right next to the walking path, washes each one carefully while standing in the irrigation channel, puts them in a little plastic bag, and takes the money from Pak. Pak later boils them and we eat one or two each with our morning coffee (me) and tea (Pak). The duck eggs are richer than chicken eggs and, of course, imagine how much better they taste when theyre taken fresh from being laid by the ducks. Pak and I start these walks at 5 a.m. and walk for two hours. At about 5:50 a.m. we hear in the distance the sound of a recorded temple priests chanting, accompanied by gamelan middle-pitched gongs. This goes on for 5 minutes and is later repeated at 6 p.m. I hear similar recordings being amplified in all the surrounding villages, each of which broadcasts this sound from their main temples. While it reminds me of a Muslim call to prayer, which is broadcast 5 times a day in the rest of Indonesia, the Bali Hindu version is not a call to prayer, so far as Pak has been able to explain it to me. This morning, I also heard what sounded like a tin-like gong being sounded from some other nearby village. Tim was with us this morning, and he told me this sound is rung to call the villagers to a community meeting to discuss issues which have come up and need to be discussed, announcements, and the like. Sort of like a meeting of N.E.A.T. in Middletown, CT, the monthly North End Action Team meeting, except the Bali version is held whenever the need arises. I suspect the 6 a.m. and 6 p.m. broadcast in every Bali village is also a way of telling people what time it is, especially in the days before watches, clocks, and cell phone time pieces. Along the way, Pak sometimes stops to chat with friends, but often we just walk in silence, which is something Balinese are quite content to do: not talk as much as Americans. Theyre by no means unfriendly, but they work so hard, as I understand Hindus like to do, that its nice to have time to be alone with ones own thoughts. I will take some pictures of this vast and beautiful rice paddy, with amazing views of the volcanoes in the North of Bali, palm trees, and other sights. From the path, we also can see the very large, very old Banyan tree, which the Balinese believe grows from the sky down to the earth. In the shade of such trees the Balinese site their cemeteries, because the Banyan trees are associated with dark forces, hence the burial of the dead. But the dead are buried, wrapped only in a shroud, decomposing until they are cremated every five years. I hope to see that ceremony some day. Back to Pak. Pak is a quiet, strong, religious, moral, multi-talented man. He was born right here in the little village of Nyuh Kuning, 58 years ago. His wife, Wayan, was also born in Nyuh Kuning. The met and married here. Wayans father is an 85-year-old retired temple priest who lives with his wife right here in the compound, right next to the familys temple, also in the compound. Pak and Wayan live in the smallest dwelling in the compound. They use a toilet and shower in a separate building which shares a wall with my son Tims kitchen. Pak rents the bigger dwelling units to a Japanese woman and her young daughter, to Tim, to the woman whos out-of-town in Australia for the month in a dwelling which I live in on the first floor and the young German woman lives on the second floor; she and I share a bathroom and kitchen, which Ive posted photographs of in earlier posts. Pak and I have grown very fond of each other and he is constantly concerned that I will have good luck and not come to any harm. He prays for me every day. Wayan has a cookie-making business in on the small buildings in the compound, with about 5 or 6 women employees, and I think Pak told me the business is owned by a Japanese man. Pak and Wayans 20-year-old son lives in a fairly large one-room with bath dwelling with very fancy gold and painted woodwork and entry door. Pak and Wayan share a kitchen with their family and that kitchen is in a free-standing building. Ive told Pak that when I return to Bali, and if I live in his compound, Ill be happy to live in a small dwelling and even use the outside bath and shower, and the free-standing kitchen, with Pak and Wayan. I just need an internet connection, but Tim works out a deal with Australian woman whos dwelling I live in. Pak is also finishing up a rather large two bedroom house in the compound, right next to mine. This larger house will be rented to a Japanese couple and their two chidren, starting in December. That house has two bathrooms, on the first floor, one for each second-floor bedroom. It also has an entry room and a kitchen. And these people want air-conditioning in their bedrooms, so Pak has purchased two free-standing A/C units. Here in Bali, each dwelling unit occupant pays for his or her own electricity by buying electricity time at a local warring. You get a code number which you enter on a device in your kitchen, and when your purchased time runs out, the lights go out, immediately. Pak manages the compound, does all the repairs, has participated in the design and building of all the structures, and is an accomplished wood carver. He also this morning showed me how he uses a heavy knife to cut strips of palm tree trunks to make satay sticks for Wayan to put fish, chicken, or pork on for eating. Pak also hand-makes shopping bags out of recycled newspaper for Bali Bhudda, a tourist shop in Ubud. He only gets 400 Bali rupiah (4 cents U.S.) for each bag. Bali Bhudda supplies the old newspaper newsprint. Pak is a very loving, caring, sweet man, but hes also nobodys fool. Ive come to respect him enormously and, while his concern for me is a bit more hovering that I like, I am moved by the amount of concern he has for me. Every evening, Pak and Wayan sit on their very small tiled porch, sitting and talking (but just a bit) while Wayan does some sewing or mending. Lights out is 10 p.m., unless they go to a late-night Hindu Temple service or a Gamelan concert. In order to communicate precisely with Pak, Ive taken to writing my words in English in Google Translate, which immediately turns it all into passable (it seems) Indonesian. Im now beginning to know the Indonesian words and phrases I most need in dealing with Balinese people, including getting directions and help when Im out and about on my motor scooter by myself. Ive written down the English and Indonesian versions on a small piece of paper which I carry with me as I go abroad (so to speak) in the countryside or to the ocean, or if Im just around the family compound or in the village or in Ubud. Ive also learned, to no surprise, that many foreigners who have lived here for years make any attempt to learn Indonesian, and many of them have done many of the non-touristy things Ive done and experienced in just the past 17 days. True, Im a kind of collie who needs a lot of stimulation, as my cousin Joyce McKeeman has astutely observed, I mean Ive only been here 15 days, not even 15 months. Perhaps thats what falling in love with a place, a culture, and a people can lead a novice to do, especially when he has a wonderful son who himself has taught himself a functional Indonesian in only 11 months of living here. And its of course easier to live and experience the Balinese way of life when that son opened the doorway to enter into the life of a beautiful, loving, peaceful, harmonious, and giving Balinese family, namely the family of Pak Augus and Wayan. Carpe Diem. More another time….…P.S.: Writing these lengthy reports of my experiences here is for me a significant mode of relaxation and time-out from constant movement. I must admit that the massage I had the other day was pretty damn close in the relaxation department.
Posted on: Fri, 22 Nov 2013 03:28:43 +0000
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