When I first got to Garut three weeks ago, I was kinda pleased to find that the main street in front of my compound had sidewalks. Where I had lived in Putin for three months during Pre Service Training there were very few sidewalks. In Putin I was always looking at my feet to make sure I was walking on solid ground or not risking a sprained ankle by stepping on some kinda rock or into some kinda hole or watching for crazy drivers as I was walking along the side of the street. I didn’t get to see other things while I was making sure I wasn’t going to fall. I wanted to see the shops.  What were they selling? What did the little restaurants serve? What was growing in the fields? Had the clouds lifted and could I see the tops of the mountains all around me? Putin is a village. Garut is a city. Perhaps that explains the sidewalks.

The main drag of Garut, a few steps from my house, is about a four lane street. Except, there are no lanes and both directions of traffic like to use the whole street. I have not yet seen a stop light so crossing the street can be a bit of a challenge. Along both sides of the street are rain gutters.  They are about 2 feet deep and these days usually have lots of running rain water. These sidewalks are wider in some places because these gutters are sometimes covered, usually in front of shops or where people need access to driveways or garages. Every once in a while the sidewalk just has a big open rectangle through which you can see the running water.

These days there isn’t a lot for me to do.  There are no teachers or students around the school.  The family at home is doing all kinds of things getting ready for Ramadon which begins tomorrow.  I have been taking walks.

Garut is a big city.  There are lots of places for me to walk. I usually start off on the main drag outside my compound than head along that street toward the center of town.  From different points I branch off and explore. There are lots of shops, cottage industries, fast food shops and stalls selling all kinds of Indonesian foods and lots and lots of people.

It has been raining off and on for the last week. It rained twice yesterday.  I didn’t get a chance to walk during the time the sun was up.  I decided to go out last night at about 7:00 p.m.to see some place I haven’t seen before. Last night I headed away from downtown. There were new shops, new food sellers and new people. I was looking across a street to see what was there when I walked straight into an open section of gutter. It was kinda like taking an extra low step by surprise. I landed on my feet in about 18 inches of running rain water.  At lease, I hope it was only rain water.  It was dark.  I couldn’t see. I only scraped my right thigh on the way down. A guy who was seated at a food stall just behind me came over to help me out of the ditch but I was able to do it on my own. I was wet up to my knees and my thigh hurt a little but, as the book says, “It could have been worse.”

I decided that I had had a long enough walk and went home. I have a big scrape on my right thigh so used my Peace Corps medical kit to clean it up.  I will live but I’m sore all over today from the experience.

I was rather looking forward to evening walks during Ramadon when everyone would be out in the streets. Perhaps I will take my walks during the day.  Perhaps I will limit my evening walks to sidewalks I know. I will continue to walk.  I want to see everything but know that I have to see if there is sidewalk no matter where I walk.

Reading Harry for Ramadon

June 25, 2014

I had an e-mail from a dear friend yesterday.  She’s a PCV in East Java. She wrote about having nothing to do. Her school is on a two week vacation following re-testing. Friday (or there about) starts Ramadon, the month of fasting when everything gets turned day to night. She wrote about her English teacher counterpart and the host family with whom she lives. She said she was going to re-read all of the Harry Potter books to help her pass the time when nothing is going on.  This seems like a really good idea. The phrase, “Reading Harry for Ramadon” has stuck in my mind since I read her e-mail. I think I want to do the same. I’m not sure I will tell my new Muslim friends that I’m reading books about wizards during their Islamic holy month. I might just keep that to myself.  Seven books I like during a month of nothing going on during the day – Yea.  I can do

My PCV friend’s counterpart is really looking after her.  REALLY looking after her.  She is feeling a little restrained. I can kinda understand the Indonesian guy’s thinking.  Here comes a 23 year old pretty American woman into a school and community where there has never been a resident American yet along a pretty young female American. He’s trying to make sure nothing untoward happens while he is on duty.

She’s living in a small village where every time she sticks her head out of the door of her host family’s house, the entire village knows it. She’s probably hears, “Hello Miss” a thousand time a day or more.

The formal welcomes are over. She’s been shown around her school. She’s met the neighbors. Everyone in the village knows who she is.

She’s the new American English teacher. Except there is no English teaching to do at the moment. Her school has been closed since re-testing finished last week.  There may or may not be classes the second week of Ramadon but the first, third and fourth weeks are off for sure. A national school vacation starts right after the vacation for the end of Ramadon. The “Peace Corps Community Entry Workbook” assignment for the third week at site is to ‘Get to know your community.” She met the entire town the first or second day she was there. Yep! Reading seven books about wizards sounds like a good idea.

I’m gonna read them too. I’m in a very similar boat to my friend. I was thrilled by the surprise of finding 430 future ninth graders at the school when I walked over this morning.  Seems the school has 430 boys and girls whose parents want them in this school but the school has places for only 330 of them. I walked around the school and talked to as many of the prospective students as I could before they had to go into the classrooms.  As I sit here in the men teacher’s room tying, the 430 are taking a qualifying test. The school will accept only the top 330. I’m pretty sure those are the only students I will get to even talk to for the next long while.

The counterpart I have met (I may have another but that teacher has yet to reveal him or herself) lives two hours away from Garut and only makes the commute when he has to.  The principal of my school, a strong supporter of Peace Corps and the English Language, also commutes 2 hours and also only comes when he has to. He doesn’t have to these weeks. I’m on my own.

Garut is a big place. Use Google Earth to have a look at it. It goes for miles in every direction. I have walked and walked and walked and walked and not covered a fraction of the place. A goodly portion of my neighbors and shop keepers round my home and school and in between have seen and greeted the new American man in town. The street the school is on is a quiet one.  Little kids perhaps 5 – 7 years old play out in the street all the time.  I’m greeted by shouts of “Hello!” and “Good Morning” every time I pass. I’m working on getting them to say “Good afternoon” as I pass on my way after lunch when I come over to the school to use the Internet.

My house on the pond continues to fascinate me. I’ve started a little garden beside my veranda. I watch the fish. I play with the 1 ½ year old grandson and think of my grand-nephews the same age. My host family mother makes great tasting varied meals. (Perhaps a lot of tofu but I know it’s good for me.)  Otherwise, life on the pond is a little quiet.

I think I’ll read Harry for Ramadon.

I really struggled with learning Bahasa Indonesia during Pre Service Training. For ten weeks this geezer’s brain fought to overpower Arabic enough to replace it with the language spoken here, Bahasa Indonesia.

I am now in Garut, West Java where I will be living and teaching for the next two years. I live with an Indonesian family in a house built on a fish pond. It’s a family compound actually with separate houses for a married son, his wife and their 1 ½ year old son (same age as 2 of my grand-nephews), a house for their unmarried son, the daughter and her husband’s house, an aunt and her family’s house and a house where there is a family who may or may not be related – I’m not sure yet.

So far, I have been able to understand and respond to everything they all have said to me. I miss only a word now and then. The reason for my ability to understand is that they all speak with me using English, Bahasa Indonesia and Arabic with a word now and then in Bahasa Sunda (the language of this part of West Java.) All four languages are used in the same sentence. Most sentences have four languages in them. I have no idea how my geezer brain is able to switch from language to language this quickly but it seems to be working.

MAN 1, my school, has several Arabic Language teachers. These teachers have been speaking to me in 100% pure formal Classical Arabic straight from the Koran. The Arabic I know best is Egyptian Colloquial. There’s a big difference between the two. When these teachers speak slowly I can usually add a neutral kinda response that keeps the conversation going.

I’ve been given a desk in the male teachers’ room. There are 25 desks here. Only one of the English teachers has a desk in this room.  The others are used by teachers of all kinds of different subjects. All of these teachers have been speaking to me in English (except the 2 Arabic Language teachers).  They have different levels of English but we seem to understand each other. I have asked them to speak either Bahasa Indonesia or Bahasa Sunda with me so that I can improve and learn these. No go! I’m their English teacher and they want English more than I need an Indonesian Language or two.

The teachers in charge of the media center, computer lab, motor repair lab and the music teachers all speak English as well as the English teachers. The teachers in the Clothing Fabrication class seem to speak only Bahasa Indonesia and their language, Bahasa Sunda. If I’m going to practice my Indonesian languages at school, I’m going to end up with a lot of well-made Batik clothing.

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I'm a PCV again. It's time #3.  The U.S. Ambassador to Indonesia swore us in. He tweeted this picture of him and me talking about time #3

I will be living in Garout, the capital of Garout Province, West Java. It’s a bit like living in Beaver, Beaver County but Garout is a much bigger city than Beaver. It is located about two hours (by bus) SSE of Bandung the capital of West Java. I have to do the research but I think it more the size of Chicago than Pittsburgh.  Bandung is a big city with several important universities.

My school is MAN 1 Garout. This is an Islamic high school. Although it is an Islamic school it is still a government school but not under the Ministry of Education. The school has 916 students in three classes with 36 teachers.  It is the oldest Islamic school in Garout. The school has waited three years for a Peace Corps Volunteer English teacher. Because my training group is so large (63), PC can start sending Volunteers to cities. Before this only villages got PCVs.

I will live with Pak Ahmad and his wife Bu Nuraini.  (“Pak” and “Bu” are honorary titles given to respected elders. I am always called “Pak Jay”.) They have four grown sons. One of the sons, Maki, is an English teacher at my school.  Pak Ahmed is on the board of directors of the school. He is a farmer but I don’t yet know what he grown unless it is fish. I know he raises some kind of fish in a large pond five minutes from my school. I mention the distance from pond to school because their house is built in the middle of the pond above the water. I have only seen one black and white picture of the house with the bridge giving access to it and it looks out of this world beautiful. Other people in my group have good looking houses but none of them are built on water. 

I am thrilled with the place Peace Corps has selected for me.

We have to more weeks of practice teaching, language classes and a one day ‘camp’ each language cluster is planning for grade school kids then we will be sworn in officially by the ambassador. The morning after swearing in those of us going to West Java will board a train for the 12-15 hour ride to Bandung where we will meet our principals and counterparts. 

Happy Mothers' Day to all.  I'm finished with Week 7 of Pre service Training.  I figured out that I have spent a year of my life doing Pre Service Training.  I'm tired of it. More news to follow when (if) I pass the final language test of Wednesday.  I will find out where in Java I am to be posted.

Sorry about this being a gang letter but there are a number of reasons for my not having time to write to you all individually. When you hear all that’s going on I’m sure you will understand.

Pre Service Training is about to finish Week 4 (of 10). I’m living with an Indonesian family. I’m getting ready for a 4 day trip to West Java.

Every day I have4¼ hours of Bahasa Indonesia. This is the language we are learning because it is the national language and most of the people understand it even if they don’t use it. It’s the language of TV and other media. It is not my host family’s first language.  They speak Javanese, understand most of what I am trying to say in Bahasa Indonesia and can help me do my homework most of the time.  I have 5 other PCTs (Trainees) in my language class. The 4 woman and 1 man have an average age of 24. Our class starts at 7:30 a.m. and goes until 11:45. We have a different teacher every week so that we get used to different regional accents. Last week we had the first test. On the day of the test we submitted 200 word essays written at home. I did rather poorly on the written part of the test but did better than I thought I was going to do. I did well on the spoken part of the test and got a 93% on the essay. It will come as no surprise to those who know me that I lost 5 points for spelling wrongly the same word 5 times. Yes, the other 2 points off were for spelling also. I’m having a hard time remembering vocabulary. Peace Corps and I were prepared for the difficulties “older language learners” have remembering new words. However, as a result I have asked for some extra practice and now go to class a ½ hour early to go over difficulties with the teacher of the week. To give you an idea of my problems: One day we had 112 new words all about food and eating. There were names of foods I (and I would guess, you) never heard of. One fruit’s name translates into English as “Snake Fruit”. There were also names of vegetables I am served about 4 times a week and still haven’t figured out what I’m eating.

After class we go out to the courtyard of the city office complex where we have our class and eat the lunches our families have packed for us. After lunch we sardine ourselves and another class of 6 PCTs into a pubic mini-bus kinda thing and go to the next village north of here where we join 2 other language classes from that village for classes on teaching English as a second language. I rather enjoy this 4 hour class because I taught it to PCTs in Madagascar and am able to add some to what is being presented. Since I often tell a story to illustrate what our teachers are talking about, the other PCTs have started to use the expression “WWJD” meaning, “What Would Jay Do”. Most of the PCTs from my village walk back to our village from this class. It’s downhill all the way.  I did this for a couple of weeks but have been playing “the old card” and cramming myself into the public transportation and paying the 15 cents to get home in 5 minutes rather than the ½ hour walk. I get home at about 5:30.

If my chances of staying awake until dinner time are slim, I make myself a cup of coffee. Otherwise I hit the shower. “Shower” is not exactly the right word. The bathroom has a squat toilet and a waist high cement reservoir for water. In the reservoir is a plastic pan with a handle. There is not a toilet paper holder. I don’t want to talk about that any more here. To “shower” I dump a pan of fresh mountain water over my head and lather up. I often have to do some deep breathing before I dump the first pan of cold water over my head. After I soap my head I dump a bucket of water to rinse.   After I get as clean as I set my mind to, I turn on the honest to goodness shower which puts out hot water. I have about 45 seconds from turn of faucet until the water turns from cold to HOT. I mean REALLY HOT. I have the act down so that I can get all of the soap off before I scald myself. A pleasant part of every bathroom experience is the view from the window. Lush verdant volcanic peeks fill the view. It really is beautiful, unless one of the volcanoes goes off which happens from time to time but hasn’t for a while around where I am.

The bathroom is just off of the kitchen. As I pass though, the mother of the family tells me how many of the 4 of us will be eating dinner at the same time and I set the table.

After dinner I wash the family dishes, do my homework and try to memorize vocabulary words until about 8:30 when sleep completely overcomes me. By the time I write my journal, get my clothes ready for the next day, pack my case with books and notebooks and set the bed net I’m asleep by 9:00 so I can get up at 5:00 and start all over again.

This goes on Monday through Thursday and Saturday. Fridays we go about an hour away to The University of Mahammaddah Malang where all the PCTs (we are 64 in total in 6 villages) get together for classes in health, safety and cross-cultural adjustment. Fridays I leave home about 6:00a.m. and get home at about 6:00p.m. We have Sundays free.  Sundays I usually study and spend time with my host family.

I live in the village of Putin. The 1 floor house is on a side street about 2 blocks from the main road that goes farther uphill to some other villages and downhill to the town of Batu. Batu is about 45 minutes from Malang in East Java.  You might be able to find Malang on a large map. The front yard is filled with perhaps 200 seedling trees toward the street and many decorative ornamental plants closer to the verandah. I’m sitting on the verandah as I write this. The house has 4 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, rather formal living room, TV room, dining room and kitchen. All 4 bedrooms are on one side of the house. My bedroom is in the front with a view of the front garden, next is the husband and wife’s bedroom, then the daughter’s with the last bedroom now used for storage and ironing since the son married and moved to another town. My bedroom has a very large bed and a wardrobe. The bed is flush with 3 walls.  The wardrobe takes the whole other wall. I have about a foot of space between the bed and wardrobe in which to maneuver.  This space is not enough to fully open the wardrobe doors but I can open them enough to get what I need from inside. I can move around a bit in the spaced used to open and shut the door. Judging from the washing machine, fridge, TV, 2 two burner stoves, 3 motorcycles and the hot water shower I would say that the family is well off: not as well off as some of the other host families but better than others.

The father of the family, 13 years younger than my real age, owns an orchard. He says he grows oranges but the fruit he brings home looks, peals and tastes like tangerines. Oranges and tangerines have the same name in Bahasa Indonesia so I’m not exactly sure what I am eating which is a general theme for my food consumption here.  He goes to mosque 5 times a day to pray and many evenings goes to a men’s prayer group to which he has taken me a couple of times. He and his siblings make sure that one of them sleeps each night at their 80 year old widowed mother’s house. The daughter is a midwife with a university degree so speaks some English and is a great help to me with my language.  The wife is a home maker and sometimes takes some of the potted decorative plants and seedling oranges (or tangerines) to sell at the traditional market in Batu. How she does this on her motorcycle I don’t want to think about because I depend on her to feed me. And feed me she does. There is always a foundation of rice. That foundation is always large. There is always something in a sauce or broth to go on top of the rice. There may or may not be chicken, beef or goat meat in this. There is always some form of tofu fried in coconut oil. There is usually some kind of sauce for on top of the tofu. One of these sauces is made with ground peanuts, is wickedly spicy and wonderfully delicious. I very often have no idea what it is I’m eating but it all tastes good so far. There seems to be no specifically breakfast, lunch or dinner foods. What I’m given for breakfast may be packed for my lunch with left-overs served with other things for dinner.  There is always rice. There is always rice.  There is always rice. ALWAYS! The house always has snacks. These might be cookies, some form of pastries or fruit. I am offered snacks at 5 minute intervals while at home and awake. Cleaning my plate or accepting a snack brings an ear to ear smile to the mother’s face.

I leave tomorrow morning for a trip to Cirebon, West Java. Another PCT guy and I will visit a PCV who has finished his first year of service. After we have a teacher training session tomorrow at UMM the other guy, 2 women PCTs and I will be driven 4 hours to Surabaya where we will get on a train for 14 hours (more or less) and arrive the next morning in Cirebon. If the 2 PCVs we will visit cannot get to the train station to meet us at the time the train gets in, we have the name of a hotel we can stay in and wait for the PCVs to show up.  From there we will go to the 2 places where these PCVs live. We will spent 3 nights and 2 days finding out how PCVs live, teach, do with their free time, eat, get along with nationals and in general exist. We have been given 4 pages of questions to ask and things to observe. We will do the reverse trip on Tuesday-Wednesday. Thursday morning the four of us will give a formal report of the trip to the other PCTs who will alo report on their visits. Other PCTs are visiting PCVs who live 2 hours, 4 hours or 6 hours away from Malang. Only the 4 in my group are going as far as we are and getting into West Java. We will not be told where our future sites will be for a couple of weeks.  I have to wonder if PC is considering sending the 4 of us to live in West Java after training. I know West Java is the hottest part of the country which is where I have said all along I want to be.  Therefore, we have to be extra observant and ask all the right kinds of questions in order to make our presentation a reflection of our feelings about our possible future locations of service.

The internet speed at the local café is something around 3 key strokes a minute. The last time I put myself through the experience it took 45 minutes just to load my g-mail account. This afternoon after lunch I will go to the host family of another PCT and use their internet connection to send this (Inshah Allah)

Today most of the PCTs are in Malang having shots and some are taking an optional mock language test. Since I have already had the shot being given today and I opted out of the test, I have today off to put into words some of the things I am doing and the reasons I don’t write as much as I would like to.

I wish you all a Happy Easter. Easter morning I will have just finished a 14 hour train trip.  I wonder what Indonesian trains are like. The adventure continues.

PEACE,

JAY

p.s. I have been 100% well. I hope all of you have been also.