Wow! What an exciting day I had this past Tuesday! I played hooky from my real life of sitting at home with my hair in a pony tail and no makeup, wearing work out gear in the hopes it will motivate me (usually nada) going slightly bonkers trying to teach three wily little boys readin’, writin’ and ‘rithmetic and wedging some actual work for a real, glorified company in the mix. (I’ll be fired now after that run on sentence.)
I got to attend a security briefing on Avian Bird Flu and then another internal meeting at CRS to identify security risks. Okay, so it wasn’t mani/pedis with the girls followed by a nice salad lunch, but this is Banda Aceh and I’ll take whatever I can get.
So, the Avian Bird Flu seminar came at just the right time because I’ve kind of run out of things to be freaked out about. And I was starting to feel kind of wistful that I’ll be leaving this delightful little swamp for vacation in two weeks.
The way I look at it, with my recent luck in the infectious tropical diseases department (one kid with malaria and two with dengue fever in the span of one month for those of you not keeping track of my bad parenting record), I figure not only will one of us be come down with H5N1 (the current Avian Flu virus), but we’ll be the darned vector that infects all of the Eastern Hemisphere. (But wait, we are boarding a plane soon! Hmmm,…)
Why worry about Bird Flu, you ask? Well, out of the 306 cases and 185 deaths spanning 12 countries, 93 of these were here in Indonesia with 76 deaths. 200 million birds around the world have either died or been culled because of the virus. And H5N1 is located all over Indonesia, with some cases and many of those dead birds coming from MY CITY.
No, we don’t cuddle ducks or hang out with any chickens, and although the powers that be do know that the virus can be transferred by undercooked eggs and meat, the only traceable instance of ingesting the virus came from someone who consumed raw duck’s blood. (Now, I come from hunting stock, so this isn’t so alien to me! The men on my father’s side usually did the old-drink-the-deer’s-blood when they killed their first.) And let’s not forget that they believe H5N1 traveled to Africa from a bunch of illegally transported Vietnamese eggs.
Here’s the part that has me agitated; our street is pretty densely populated with a nice mix of expat NGO workers, well –to-do Acehnese, middle class Achenese and then people like our next door neighbor who live in a corrugated wooden shack and have a swamp filled with a flock of ducks. Walking home you pass countless gaggles of chickens and ducks eating garbage in vacant lots (along with tied up cows and many goats romping around). Forget about the fact that this virus can live on porous surfaces for up to 12 hours, or hard surfaces for 48; it can live up to four days in warm water and,.. THREE MONTHS in bird poop!
So, I’m thinking all it takes is a boy to step in some infected bird poop, touch the bottom of his shoe when he’s removing it, not wash his hands (these are boys here, after all) and get infected! Or the big, stupid dog we have will run through bird poop and then come inside and spread it everywhere. Or roll in it even. Or actually catch a chicken and eat part of it. Then lick someone. Yuck.
Okay, it’s a long shot, I know. But with all these big organizations gearing up for that pandemic that we are supposedly due for, I wanna be ready. I’ve got my year’s supply of tamiflu. I know now not to crack the egg on the side that has the dried chicken poop with a feather stuck in it. (Fresh! Talk about eating locally!) I have the FAQ from SOS International on how to make my own cloth face mask (forget making homemade yogurt, Martha, we’re into homemade embroidered personal protection equipment!) I’ve installed sinks. Two of them. I’m ready for any epidemic!
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Sunday, May 13, 2007
A White Chick in a Suntanned Country
I’m a white chick. I don’t mean I’m Caucasian, although I am, I mean I am a blazing white, can’t tan to save my life, freckled person. I am the teenager who lived half a block from the beach in Africa only to come back to the States to a school photographer exclaiming I had ‘beautiful fair skin.’ Ugh! A teenager’s worst nightmare.
I was also the young adult who lived half a block from the beach in California while driving inland to work an hour or more every day for more than a year. One of my colleagues asked where I lived and I told him Balboa Peninsula. He shrugged and said, “Funny, you don’t look like you live at the beach.”
FUNNY, I DON’T LOOK LIKE I LIVE AT THE BEACH?
So began my long love and hate relationship with self tanning lotion. It started in college because I knew deep down inside that tanning booths were bad for you. But I always feared I would return from some frat party after a few beers, consider myself in need of a tanning fix, and wake up in the morning with orange streaks that couldn’t be hidden by a sweatshirt and jeans.
My husband is forever telling me he loves my fair skin and God bless him, that’s why I married him (not necessarily because he loves my white skin, but because he loves me just the way I am supposed to be). But, the grass is always greener you know. I’d love to stand for fifteen minutes in the hot sun and have sandal marks on my feet too, honey.
So it is interesting living in Asia, where the less tan you are, the more beautiful you are considered (and so are big butts, at least in Bali, lest we forget J Lo. I have indeed found my homeland.)
You can find whitening lotion, soap and powder everywhere. No tanning lotion anywhere in the Eastern hemisphere, so I am forced to pack a year’s supply when we move overseas. Have you ever bought 15 bottles of self tanning lotion at once? Makes you feel a little self conscious. And you wondered what the check out girl thought of you the last time you brought your basket of cat food, easy cheez and toilet paper to the register.
It is interesting to pass my live-in nanny in the kitchen at night; she has on her whitening cream and I am fresh from applying my magic ‘promises-not-to-be-orange’ tanning juice.
Funny how people are the same in many ways, even if we are remarkably different in others. This dissatisfaction women have with our bodies seems to cross cultural borders.
So it was with great delight that one of my favorite authors, Marian Keyes, dedicated a whole chapter to self tanning lotion in her book Further Under the Duvet. Named appropriately enough, “Faking It” it is too funny not to share parts of it with you even if it means I’ll be dragged into prison for plagiarism when I come back to the good ol’ US of A this summer.
So here is one excerpt:
… I decided to (apply self tanning lotion) properly. I’d do wafer-thin layers and leave plenty of time to dry between applications. The only thing is, I got a little bit obsessive about it and it kind of took over my life. I’d apply a layer, then do some free-style dancing in my pelt waiting for it to dry, then I’d apply another layer and do some more dancing around my room, and when the colour still hadn’t come yet, I’d apply another layer. At some point, the end product of tan no longer seemed to matter so much, it was simply the doing that became important,…
So there I was, having a lovely time dancing and humming and thinking lovely thoughts, I’d even enlisted a floaty red scarf to waft about over my head, when Himself walked into the room and yelped, ‘Jesus Christ!’ I thought it was the free-style dancing and stopped abruptly, a little mortified by the scarf. ‘Look at yourself, he urged. ‘Look!’
So I looked and instead of the radiant golden hue I’d been expecting, I was a nasty Eurotrash mahogany, which I was prepared to bet went all the way down to my internal organs. Again I couldn’t leave the house for a week. I mean, no one wants to be humiliated in the street by strangers shouting, ‘Who’s been drinking the fake tan, then?’
Okay, I can’t help myself this woman is so damn funny so here is another one on the ‘ol fake not bake:
Elementary mistake number four: The mud and how it works. In the deliriously happy days of doing my make-up column, I was invited to have the mud done. So I showed up at a hotel room, stripped off and hopped up onto the table, where a lovely girl smeared me with smelly mud, then got a big loofah and rubbed some of the mud off, then told me to get up and get dressed.
When I pointed out that I was still covered in smelly mud, she said, yes of course I was, that was how it worked, everyone knew that, but I’d be able to wash it off in the morning.
‘Obviously you’re going to look manky for the evening,’ she said. ‘But tomorrow morning, after your shower, you’ll have a fabulous tan.’
‘Grand, grand,’ I said.
She seemed to pick up on a little anxiety from me. ‘You hadn’t planned to go out tonight, had you?’
‘No, not really,’ Just for my mother’s birthday.
‘Probably best if you leave off your boots and tights. They’ll only interfere with the tan. You can drive in your bare feet.’
I looked out into the March night, it was pelting rain and freezing cold. ‘Okay.’
So off I went. And as luck would have it, the police were doing random checks on the Boomerstown road. I rolled down my window and watched the copper’s face recoil as the smell hit him.
‘License please.’
I handed it over, but the smell was clearly alarming him, so he had a low muttered consultation with his colleague, and the net result was that they asked me to get out of the car. In my bare feet, I tried to explain about the fake tan, but they just ordered me to open my boot – presumably to show them that I had no smelly dead bodies in there.
They kept me for ages, searching in their rule book to see if they could bring me in on anything. I wasn’t obviously breaking any laws, but they were very suspicious.
In the end they let me go and when I arrived at the restaurant to celebrate my mammy’s birthday, I caused a bit of a stir. As if the smell wasn’t making me unpopular enough, bits of the mud were going black and green and falling off my face into my dinner. I looked like a burns victim.
Mind you, it’s important to say that the following morning, when I’d washed off the muck, I had a rich, deep, smooth beautiful tan. And isn’t that what it’s all about?’
Indeed!
I was also the young adult who lived half a block from the beach in California while driving inland to work an hour or more every day for more than a year. One of my colleagues asked where I lived and I told him Balboa Peninsula. He shrugged and said, “Funny, you don’t look like you live at the beach.”
FUNNY, I DON’T LOOK LIKE I LIVE AT THE BEACH?
So began my long love and hate relationship with self tanning lotion. It started in college because I knew deep down inside that tanning booths were bad for you. But I always feared I would return from some frat party after a few beers, consider myself in need of a tanning fix, and wake up in the morning with orange streaks that couldn’t be hidden by a sweatshirt and jeans.
My husband is forever telling me he loves my fair skin and God bless him, that’s why I married him (not necessarily because he loves my white skin, but because he loves me just the way I am supposed to be). But, the grass is always greener you know. I’d love to stand for fifteen minutes in the hot sun and have sandal marks on my feet too, honey.
So it is interesting living in Asia, where the less tan you are, the more beautiful you are considered (and so are big butts, at least in Bali, lest we forget J Lo. I have indeed found my homeland.)
You can find whitening lotion, soap and powder everywhere. No tanning lotion anywhere in the Eastern hemisphere, so I am forced to pack a year’s supply when we move overseas. Have you ever bought 15 bottles of self tanning lotion at once? Makes you feel a little self conscious. And you wondered what the check out girl thought of you the last time you brought your basket of cat food, easy cheez and toilet paper to the register.
It is interesting to pass my live-in nanny in the kitchen at night; she has on her whitening cream and I am fresh from applying my magic ‘promises-not-to-be-orange’ tanning juice.
Funny how people are the same in many ways, even if we are remarkably different in others. This dissatisfaction women have with our bodies seems to cross cultural borders.
So it was with great delight that one of my favorite authors, Marian Keyes, dedicated a whole chapter to self tanning lotion in her book Further Under the Duvet. Named appropriately enough, “Faking It” it is too funny not to share parts of it with you even if it means I’ll be dragged into prison for plagiarism when I come back to the good ol’ US of A this summer.
So here is one excerpt:
… I decided to (apply self tanning lotion) properly. I’d do wafer-thin layers and leave plenty of time to dry between applications. The only thing is, I got a little bit obsessive about it and it kind of took over my life. I’d apply a layer, then do some free-style dancing in my pelt waiting for it to dry, then I’d apply another layer and do some more dancing around my room, and when the colour still hadn’t come yet, I’d apply another layer. At some point, the end product of tan no longer seemed to matter so much, it was simply the doing that became important,…
So there I was, having a lovely time dancing and humming and thinking lovely thoughts, I’d even enlisted a floaty red scarf to waft about over my head, when Himself walked into the room and yelped, ‘Jesus Christ!’ I thought it was the free-style dancing and stopped abruptly, a little mortified by the scarf. ‘Look at yourself, he urged. ‘Look!’
So I looked and instead of the radiant golden hue I’d been expecting, I was a nasty Eurotrash mahogany, which I was prepared to bet went all the way down to my internal organs. Again I couldn’t leave the house for a week. I mean, no one wants to be humiliated in the street by strangers shouting, ‘Who’s been drinking the fake tan, then?’
Okay, I can’t help myself this woman is so damn funny so here is another one on the ‘ol fake not bake:
Elementary mistake number four: The mud and how it works. In the deliriously happy days of doing my make-up column, I was invited to have the mud done. So I showed up at a hotel room, stripped off and hopped up onto the table, where a lovely girl smeared me with smelly mud, then got a big loofah and rubbed some of the mud off, then told me to get up and get dressed.
When I pointed out that I was still covered in smelly mud, she said, yes of course I was, that was how it worked, everyone knew that, but I’d be able to wash it off in the morning.
‘Obviously you’re going to look manky for the evening,’ she said. ‘But tomorrow morning, after your shower, you’ll have a fabulous tan.’
‘Grand, grand,’ I said.
She seemed to pick up on a little anxiety from me. ‘You hadn’t planned to go out tonight, had you?’
‘No, not really,’ Just for my mother’s birthday.
‘Probably best if you leave off your boots and tights. They’ll only interfere with the tan. You can drive in your bare feet.’
I looked out into the March night, it was pelting rain and freezing cold. ‘Okay.’
So off I went. And as luck would have it, the police were doing random checks on the Boomerstown road. I rolled down my window and watched the copper’s face recoil as the smell hit him.
‘License please.’
I handed it over, but the smell was clearly alarming him, so he had a low muttered consultation with his colleague, and the net result was that they asked me to get out of the car. In my bare feet, I tried to explain about the fake tan, but they just ordered me to open my boot – presumably to show them that I had no smelly dead bodies in there.
They kept me for ages, searching in their rule book to see if they could bring me in on anything. I wasn’t obviously breaking any laws, but they were very suspicious.
In the end they let me go and when I arrived at the restaurant to celebrate my mammy’s birthday, I caused a bit of a stir. As if the smell wasn’t making me unpopular enough, bits of the mud were going black and green and falling off my face into my dinner. I looked like a burns victim.
Mind you, it’s important to say that the following morning, when I’d washed off the muck, I had a rich, deep, smooth beautiful tan. And isn’t that what it’s all about?’
Indeed!
Thursday, May 10, 2007
An Urban Legend for Mother's Day
Okay, this story totally reminds me of one night sitting around the dinner table with my three boys (there was no Sabrina at the moment to try and balance out the testosterone running WILD through my home) and my mother. Rob was in the Philippines, I came home to help get my mom through the holiday season the year my Dad passed away, and we had invited my mom over to have dinner with us.
It's the end of dinner, the baby is starting to crawl on the table, Zach and Jared are farting and burping and laughing like there is no tomorrow. I look at my mom and state, "It will take me 18 years to train them so some other unsuspecting woman will take them out of my home, won't it?"
This came from Lynda, one of my American friends here in Aceh,.. I have no idea if this is true or not, but HAPPY EARLY MOTHER'S DAY!!
So, we had this great 10 year old cat named Jack who just recently died. Jack was a great cat and the kids would carry him around and sit on him and nothing ever bothered him. He used to hang out and nap all day long on this mat in our bathroom.
Well, we have 3 kids and at the time of this story they were 4 years old, 3 years old and 1 year old. The middle one is Eli. Eli really loves chapstick. LOVES IT. He kept asking to use my chapstick and then losing it.
So finally one day I showed him where in the bathroom I keep my chapstick and how he could use it whenever he wanted to but he needed to put it right back in the drawer when he was done.
Last year on Mother's Day, we were having the typical rush around and try to get ready for Church with everyone crying and carrying on. My two boys are fighting over the toy in the cereal box. I am trying to nurse my little one at the same time I am putting on my make-up. Everything is a mess and everyone has long forgotten that this is a wonderful day to honor me and the amazing job that is motherhood.
We finally have the older one and the baby loaded in the car and I am looking for Eli. I have searched everywhere and I finally round the corner to go into the bathroom. And there was Eli. He was applying mychapstick very carefully to Jack's . . . rear end. Eli looked right into my eyes and said "chapped." Now if you have a cat, you know that he is right--their little butts do look pretty chapped. And, frankly, Jack didn't seem to mind. And the only question to really ask at that point was whether it was the FIRST time Eli had done that to the cat's behind or the hundredth.
And THAT is my favorite Mother's Day moment ever because it reminds us that no matter how hard we try to civilize these glorious little creatures, there will always be that day when you realize they've been using your chapstick on the cat's butt.
It's the end of dinner, the baby is starting to crawl on the table, Zach and Jared are farting and burping and laughing like there is no tomorrow. I look at my mom and state, "It will take me 18 years to train them so some other unsuspecting woman will take them out of my home, won't it?"
This came from Lynda, one of my American friends here in Aceh,.. I have no idea if this is true or not, but HAPPY EARLY MOTHER'S DAY!!
So, we had this great 10 year old cat named Jack who just recently died. Jack was a great cat and the kids would carry him around and sit on him and nothing ever bothered him. He used to hang out and nap all day long on this mat in our bathroom.
Well, we have 3 kids and at the time of this story they were 4 years old, 3 years old and 1 year old. The middle one is Eli. Eli really loves chapstick. LOVES IT. He kept asking to use my chapstick and then losing it.
So finally one day I showed him where in the bathroom I keep my chapstick and how he could use it whenever he wanted to but he needed to put it right back in the drawer when he was done.
Last year on Mother's Day, we were having the typical rush around and try to get ready for Church with everyone crying and carrying on. My two boys are fighting over the toy in the cereal box. I am trying to nurse my little one at the same time I am putting on my make-up. Everything is a mess and everyone has long forgotten that this is a wonderful day to honor me and the amazing job that is motherhood.
We finally have the older one and the baby loaded in the car and I am looking for Eli. I have searched everywhere and I finally round the corner to go into the bathroom. And there was Eli. He was applying mychapstick very carefully to Jack's . . . rear end. Eli looked right into my eyes and said "chapped." Now if you have a cat, you know that he is right--their little butts do look pretty chapped. And, frankly, Jack didn't seem to mind. And the only question to really ask at that point was whether it was the FIRST time Eli had done that to the cat's behind or the hundredth.
And THAT is my favorite Mother's Day moment ever because it reminds us that no matter how hard we try to civilize these glorious little creatures, there will always be that day when you realize they've been using your chapstick on the cat's butt.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Yay for CRS!
Aceh park, a symbol of recovery, renewal and healing
2 May: Relief Web by Kai T. Hill and Jullya Vigneshvara
On any given afternoon at the Taman Sari Park in downtown Banda Aceh, Indonesia, the approach of sunset bears little on the tireless energy of children playing. High-pitched laughter — of children thumping to the ground from jungle gyms and chasing each other through the grass — can be heard from blocks away. The sound lasts into the night as entire families seize the moment to relax, strike up conversations and enjoy reconnections with old friends. This 300-meter stretch of park, which reopened in March with the help of CRS, is not just a recreational outlet. It’s a symbol of rejuvenation and hope.
"It’s a public space that symbolizes recovery, renewal and healing in the entire community, and stands as CRS' commitment to rebuilding the many aspects of community in the overall post-tsunami reconstruction process," says Scott Campbell, CRS' director of operations in Aceh. "It is our hope that Taman Sari will enable the people of Aceh to continue to improve their lives, free themselves from the nightmare of the tsunami and realize their full human potential."
Many here share the common bond of having lost loved ones, their homes and all their possessions to the 2004 tsunami, which hit this area of Indonesia the hardest. This park and surrounding green space had become a desolate, muddy wasteland after the enormous tidal wave struck the island. But that has been put more easily to the past now as the park, the only one in Banda Aceh, bustles with life. A Place for Community
"Every day this park is full with people," says Zubir, a park security guard, who maintains an easy smile as he patrols the area, often stopping to greet and help visitors. "Usually in the late afternoon, after parents come back from work, they take their children here to play while they're relaxing," Zubir continues.
His daughters, a toddler and 5-year-old, also come to the park and are visibly proud seeing their father in uniformed patrol. Novi, a 25-year-old hospital worker, brings her daughter Fika, 3, to the park on her days off. Keeping a steady watch on their children, Novi and other women engage in topics on children's health, along with other light talk.
"It's good to meet lots of new people," she says. "In my opinion, with the conflicts and tsunami that devastated Aceh, we need to release the burden and start fresh, and one of the means is by socialization with people."
Through its cash-for-work program, CRS began cleaning up the park in the early days and months following the tsunami. "It was a grim, difficult and sad task, associated with death and destruction," recalls Scott.
Rebuilding Neighborhoods
Now more than two years after the disaster, the agency continues its commitment to rebuilding homes, hospitals, schools and marketplace facilities. The park is also a milestone for the agency's plan to help rebuild neighbourhoods — something that would help residents, who suffered the trauma of sudden, tremendous loss, regain a sense of community and normalcy.
"We are really grateful [for] Taman Sari being rebuilt by CRS," commented Dr. H.T. Saifuddin, municipal secretary for Banda Aceh. "People not only need a house but also a place to have recreation."
The park's inauguration ceremony in March 2007 included Acehnese traditional welcoming dances, a moment of silence for tsunami victims, a dedication by CRS and performances by kindergarten students from a nearby school. In addition to an expansive playground, the park consists of a manicured garden with a fishpond, a parking lot, and a multipurpose building that houses a gallery, restroom, library, meeting room, prayer room and kitchen.
Our Work in Indonesia
CRS began working in Indonesia in 1957, helping rural communities alleviate suffering, eradicate poverty and become self-reliant. Initially, CRS used food aid to address food insecurity in certain parts of Indonesia through food-for-work, health and nutrition, and income-generating programs. In response to the 2004 earthquake and tsunami, CRS opened an office in Aceh to meet communities' needs for shelter, infrastructure, health, water and sanitation.
News from the Region
Tired of the political race in the U.S? Don't want to read about Paris Hilton only gets to eat chicken in prison? Don't care if Doolittle wins Idol? Need some different news to sip your morning coffee to? Look no further,...
A poor family were poisoning after eating instant noodle
Sigli - Muhammad (3) and his mother, Nurlaili (40), villagers of Kulee, Sub-district of Batee, Pidie were poisoning after eating instant noodle from World Food Program (WFP). According to a resident, on Fri (28/4) night, Nurlaili cooked instant noodle received from WFP for her family. After cooking, Nurlaili and her youngest child, Muhammad ate that food and a few minutes afterward, they got stomachache, queasy, and threw up. Head of community health center (Puskesmas) in Batee Sub-district, Dr Nazaruddin, said that Muhammad and Nurlali was not poisoning due to instant noodle, but they got dyspastria (stomachache) plus dysentery.
Aceh is a risk area of bird flu virus Banda Aceh
Head of Health Agency in Aceh, dr T Anjar Asmara said that Aceh is a risk area of bird flu virus. "The threats might come anytime particularly following the death of seven residents of North Sumatera due to bird flu virus. Furthermore, Anjar said that although the positive avian flu cases have not yet occurred in Aceh, but within the last two years, as many as 21 cases of suspect bird flu virus to human had occurred in three districts in Aceh: 19 suspects in Aceh Utara, one in Bireuen and two suspects' bird flu cases occurred in Banda Aceh. So far, in Aceh, bird flu virus have been found to poultry in 10 districts such as 5 cases in Banda Aceh, 3 cases in Aceh Pidie, 2 cases in Bireuen, four cases in Aceh Utara, 4 cases in Aceh Timur, 2 cases in Aceh Tamiang, 2 cases in Aceh Tenggara, 12 cases in Aceh Selatan, and one cases in Aceh Besar and Lhokseumawe.
Two years was parted, Nazar found his family back Lhokseumawe
M Nazar (10), a boy from Alue Krueng, sub-district of Teunom, Aceh Jaya that was parted from his family due to tsunami tragedy two years ago, finally found his elder brother and elder sister at Paloh Meunasah Meria, Lhokseumawe on Wed (2/5). According to Nazar, when tsunami hit Aceh, he, his parents and his younger brother were in Calang visiting his uncle. His parents and his younger brother passed away in that tragedy. "After tsunami, I lived with my grandmother in Teunom and in April 2005, Ramly, a TNI officer in Koramil Teunom brought me to Jakarta. Due to I did not like to stay in Jakarta, I was determined to go back to Aceh, but I only could reach Medan," said Nazar. Nazar was founded in Medan by Said Almuddin while he was selling cigarettes a few weeks ago. Due to Said was very apprehensive to Nazar, Said asked Nazar to stay in Said's house and then Said took initiative to return this poor boy to his family in Lhokseumawe. According to Said, during his stay in Said's house, his attitude was very nice. "Every night he recited Holy Quran. Even though it's hard to return Nazar to his family, I should do it as he deserves to get back his family," said Said.
A group of tigers threaten Kluet Tengah residents
Waspada Tapaktuan - At least three tigers are wandering at four villages in Kluet Tengah sub-district, Aceh Selatan not only in the night but also during the day and although they had not yet swallowed human beings, but at least 18 residents' goats have been eaten by them. Villagers of Simpang Tiga, Mersak, Kampung Padang and Jambo Papan urged the the Aceh Selatan government to deploy tiger tamers to their villages to calm down those tigers before they attack villagers.
Thousands residents commemorated the Tragedy of Simpang KKA Lhokseumawe
Thousands residents on Wed (3/5) commemorated the Tragedy of Simpang KKA where 46 people were killed after being shot by TNI Detasemen Rudal on 3 May 1999. In this commemoration, hundreds of residents wrote their signatures on a white long cloth as the sign of their supports to solve the human rights violation in Aceh peacefully. The event coordinator, Tgk Junaidi said that this commemoration is not aimed to provoke the secure situation in Aceh, but only to commemorate the history of Simpang KKA tragedy. Meanwhile, a representative of the victims, Mustafa said that even though the peace in Aceh has reached for three years, victims of Simpang KKA incident are the forgotten people. "We urge the authorities to pay attention to the victims of Simpang KKA incident," said Mustafa. Eight PNS ex-GAM members and victims of conflict are reactivated Bireuen - As many as eight ex GAM members and victims of conflict that have been deactivated as Government Employees (PNS) in Bireuen, are reactivated as Government Employees following Bireuen Regent, Mustafa Abubakar has approved their reactivation.
WH held a dressing raid
Harian Aceh Meulaboh - A joint team of sharia police (WH), police, and military police in Aceh Barat on Wed (2/5) evening held a dressing raid at Simpang Kisaran, Meulaboh, Aceh Barat. During the raid, many women were caught due to they did not wear jilbab (veil) and wearing pressed tight dress. Even, a girl cried because she was very afraid when WH interrogated her. In that raid, a number of NGO workers that came from oversea and from outside of Aceh who passed that area, were also caught by WH as they were not dressing in Islamic way, however, after WH gave them some advices, they were released. "During the raid, we caught 65 women who did not wear Jilbab and dressing tightly. Some of them were brought to Sharia Islam office to get some advices and to sign the declaration letter that they won't repeat their same mistake," said Zainuddin, public relation of Sharia Islam office in Aceh Barat.
Monday, May 07, 2007
You Can Take the Girl Out of the Jungle, But You Can Never Take the Jungle Out of the Girl
Oi vey! It was a bit difficult to share that last post with people; I don't tend to talk about my childhood toooo much,.. I expect I'll bore everyone to death when I hit the nursing home.
Lest anyone think I'm some sort of super human (I'm definitely not), let me tell you of a little conversation I had with my dear friend 'Sonja' one day. She asked me all sorts of questions about growing up and the decisions I've made as an adult and at the end of it stated, "No wonder you're such a freak."
And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming:
Thursday, May 03, 2007
When Shrapnel Takes You Down Memory Lane
Ah yes,.. grenades. Or any kind of bomb, for that matter, is something to be concerned about when you live in an area that has been under civil war for three decades. Much like the land mine problems in many Eastern European countries, here too, you must be aware of explosives that are left over from the strife.
There was a tragically sad story yesterday about a group of teenagers who found a bomb encased in concrete. Not knowing what it was, thinking it was a ball because it was round, they brought it home and then used a hammer to extract the ‘ball.’ One of the boys died at the scene. There have been several incidences of villagers finding unexploded mortars and home made IEDs around the area. I’ve taken some time to explain to the boys what grenades and other explosives look like and hopefully teach them to be cautious when playing in the fields around the house. I tend to think we are okay since we live in such a heavily populated area, but you can never be too safe.
What a childhood, eh? But, honestly, I had quite the exciting teenage years while living in Monrovia, Liberia. I’m the only person I know who had an excuse note explaining I missed school due to a coup attempt and couldn’t get back in town.
I remember being up in the mountains with friends – my father’s boss and his wife and daughter who was my age (my dad was an Army Major and the Military Attache for Liberia when we were there for two years.) After a fun day hanging out with a family that boasted a leopard and a chimp as pets, we woke up early the next morning to the news that six Liberians had been executed in the town and the insurgents were headed into Monrovia. Our families were dispatched from the town in a little plane. An airport security guard had been shot earlier that morning and the pool of blood was still on the tarmac. I remember my friend and I keeping my little brother busy singing songs and saying nursery rhymes after he asked ‘what that red stuff was over there.’
The most fearful part of the whole episode was leaving our fathers behind – being US Military, they had a job to do, and while we were safely flown out of town, our fathers had to stay behind and drive, take care of business and drive the vehicles back. My mom, at least on the outside, was a tower of strength and self assurance. I was terrified and don’t know to this day if I can be that brave ever in front of my children. (there are a lot of brave things my mother has done that I can never live up to, like having a baby in Saudi Arabia. I always fly back to the good ol’ US of A to birth my babies! I always think of a work friend of mine who had a baby in a dirt hut in Nigeria for God’s sake. What faith. I’m such a wimp.)
I think back to September 11 and how terrifying that was. I was in the states with a toddler, a preschooler and a month old baby and my husband was in Luxor, Egypt. I had no idea when I’d see him again, nor what country we would live in after we reconnected.
What affected me the most about that event and still makes me weep is that before that, no matter where in the world I lived, I felt I could always go back to the US and feel safe. To have that awful event happen is kind of like being in an earthquake – there is no where to go. You feel there is no place safe.
So, after living my formative years knowing about the existence of bullet proof car windows and brief cases, safe rooms and evacuation plans, that assassins are real and people do horrible, horrible things to one another, maybe that’s why I continue to live the life I do. Although honestly, if I’d wanted to live a peaceful life in a country like Switzerland I should have married a banker or become one myself.
So, living in these interesting areas we have chosen to live (Rob and I have lived in Egypt, the Philippines and now Indonesia) means listening to various Department of Defense security briefings. Always interesting, but it is stressful to live your life on orange alert.
I knew I needed a break one day in the Philippines. We lived on a camp five hours out of Manila, again in the middle of the Godforsaken jungle. The camp was set up at the site of the earth fill dam Rob’s company was building. The nearest town was 20 minutes away. We attended church there, one of two families who were not Filipino in this huge building that had to seat at least 1000. The priest was very generous, because he would type his homily in English and dispatch an Altar boy to come find us every Sunday (the Mass was in Tagalog, but we could follow along with the good ‘ol Catholic Sunday missal).
We came out of church one morning finding the car without a driver and unlocked. I threw my arms up in front of the family and told them to stop. Then, I circled the car slowly, looking under, on and around for anything unusual or out of place. Rob asked me what I was doing. I told him I was checking for explosives. He rolled his eyes and told me to get in the car. Thank goodness home leave was coming up soon.
Maybe I’m a drama queen, but I’m used to varying my route, noticing who is in the neighborhood, and always knowing where the family is.
Watching Hotel Rwanda last year was one of the hardest things I’ve done. It brought up a lot of feelings of sadness and although I certainly never witnessed anything as tragic as that genocide, living in that continent is sure to make you aware of peoples' suffering at a visceral level.
Liberia was a hard place to live, even if I was a coddled Westerner and a teenager thankfully unaware of everything going on. But I had one friend gang raped on the beach we swam on near my house (group of drugged out Nigerians); one friend knifed at another beach and medovaced out of the country (her father I was to learn later was the head of CIA operations in the country); one Lebanese friend who was married in an arranged marriage at the tender age of 16; (she was happy, but what an eye opening education for me!). I remember the countless beggars in the main city, many missing limbs, scooting around on skateboards. I remember our ‘houseboy’ Isaac taking his very sick little baby to the ‘witchdoctor’ to get cured (I think again my mom intervened and brought him to an actual hospital). Just the fact that we employed this man so he could feed his family is sad. Whatever happened to him after we left?
I remember friends I went to school with who had lost their fathers and uncles on ‘Redemption Beach’ in 1980 during that horrible, horrible coup. I still wonder what happened to those people after we left and the country was once again through into civil war. I remember Nigerian friends who had fled the civil war in their home country to find a new life in Liberia, only to be caught in yet another war. And the same for all the Lebanese merchants who fled Lebanon and opened shops in Liberia just to loose them again when crazed militants torched them and stole everything they had earned.
Anyway, I’d mentioned grenades before I started this trip down memory lane. Here in Banda, besides uncovering old explosives left behind after all the fighting, they are starting to have more and more political activity that is involving grenades. (And thanks again to USAID for the information and recommendations.) There is no need for us to be alarmed at this point, since the targets seem to be carefully chosen ‘political’ targets and not the reconstruction community.
So here again, taken from USAID, possibly a very good entry in the next “What To Do in The Worst Possible Scenario” Book, or whatever it’s called:
Grenades come in many unpleasant varieties. White phosphorus grenades are at one end of the spectrum and at the other is the more common fragmentation grenade. The reality of fragmentation grenade explosions is very different from the movies. Bodies do not fly through the air, buildings do not sag and collapse, there is no ‘fiery’ explosion. Just a ‘crump’ sound and a large swirl of hot air and surface debris. Unless you are within close range they are not especially ‘dramatic’. A fragmentation grenade thrown at the outside of a building will only cause superficial damage. They are not designed to be used against ‘hard targets’ i.e. buildings, but ‘soft targets’ i.e. human beings.
The two parts of a fragmentation grenade explosion are:
The Blast – this will disorient and incapacitate you. Clothes and eardrums are likely to be shredded.
Shrapnel – This will would and kill you. The two types of shrapnel associated with most fragmentation grenade explosions are:
Big bits. The most dangerous bits of a grenade explosion are the pieces of outer casing. These are designed to be split open and propelled outwards by the initial blast. As they are large and jagged pieces of metal hurtling at high speed they will pit buildings and maim or kill people.
Small Bits. In addition, fragmentation grenades may e ‘packed with filler’ shrapnel. These smaller pieces of shrapnel may kill but are primarily designed to wound. In addition, small pieces of ‘collateral shrapnel’ from the explosion surface may cause injury.
Clearly, if you are unfortunately enough to be I the immediate blast or shrapnel area of an exploding grenade, you may suffer major damage. Variables that will affect your chances of surviving a grenade explosion are whether or not you are in an enclosed space, whether it was a hard or soft surface explosion or air burst, and the type and explosive charge of the grenade. In addition, all these variables will change the ‘kill’ zone of the explosion. For most grenades, the ‘kill’ zone is 3 meters and many people survive within a meter of an explosion if they are on the ground. So, if a grenade lands at your feet, do a John Wayne and try to pick it up and throw it or kick it away.
If you have time to even consider that, you also have time to throw yourself on the ground on your belly away from the grenade with the soles of your feet at the grenade, feet together.
So, while I don’t tend to panic too much when my husband calls me from hiding under the desk in a colleague’s office because there are angry villages storming his office, or a written death threat against him is delivered, or the police are requesting him to report and testify in a contractor case, I’m also a realist that although the majority of the people on this earth are good, there are a few who are not.
Before I get everyone in a panic, that’s why we don’t live in Egypt at the moment and why we left the Philippines when we did. While we have a little bit of craziness in our souls, we aren’t completely crazy and are sure to protect our family.
At the same time, I’m proud of my family and the work that we’ve been able to do, whether it be creating sewer systems for villages that didn’t have any, electricity to those who didn’t have it before (okay, I’m a republican and this is my take on it, everyone I’m sure has a different viewpoint) and houses to those who have lost absolutely everything in a terrible natural disaster.
That said, I can’t wait to get the Beemer out of mini storage, go through the Starbucks drive through and find out who wins American Idol.
There was a tragically sad story yesterday about a group of teenagers who found a bomb encased in concrete. Not knowing what it was, thinking it was a ball because it was round, they brought it home and then used a hammer to extract the ‘ball.’ One of the boys died at the scene. There have been several incidences of villagers finding unexploded mortars and home made IEDs around the area. I’ve taken some time to explain to the boys what grenades and other explosives look like and hopefully teach them to be cautious when playing in the fields around the house. I tend to think we are okay since we live in such a heavily populated area, but you can never be too safe.
What a childhood, eh? But, honestly, I had quite the exciting teenage years while living in Monrovia, Liberia. I’m the only person I know who had an excuse note explaining I missed school due to a coup attempt and couldn’t get back in town.
I remember being up in the mountains with friends – my father’s boss and his wife and daughter who was my age (my dad was an Army Major and the Military Attache for Liberia when we were there for two years.) After a fun day hanging out with a family that boasted a leopard and a chimp as pets, we woke up early the next morning to the news that six Liberians had been executed in the town and the insurgents were headed into Monrovia. Our families were dispatched from the town in a little plane. An airport security guard had been shot earlier that morning and the pool of blood was still on the tarmac. I remember my friend and I keeping my little brother busy singing songs and saying nursery rhymes after he asked ‘what that red stuff was over there.’
The most fearful part of the whole episode was leaving our fathers behind – being US Military, they had a job to do, and while we were safely flown out of town, our fathers had to stay behind and drive, take care of business and drive the vehicles back. My mom, at least on the outside, was a tower of strength and self assurance. I was terrified and don’t know to this day if I can be that brave ever in front of my children. (there are a lot of brave things my mother has done that I can never live up to, like having a baby in Saudi Arabia. I always fly back to the good ol’ US of A to birth my babies! I always think of a work friend of mine who had a baby in a dirt hut in Nigeria for God’s sake. What faith. I’m such a wimp.)
I think back to September 11 and how terrifying that was. I was in the states with a toddler, a preschooler and a month old baby and my husband was in Luxor, Egypt. I had no idea when I’d see him again, nor what country we would live in after we reconnected.
What affected me the most about that event and still makes me weep is that before that, no matter where in the world I lived, I felt I could always go back to the US and feel safe. To have that awful event happen is kind of like being in an earthquake – there is no where to go. You feel there is no place safe.
So, after living my formative years knowing about the existence of bullet proof car windows and brief cases, safe rooms and evacuation plans, that assassins are real and people do horrible, horrible things to one another, maybe that’s why I continue to live the life I do. Although honestly, if I’d wanted to live a peaceful life in a country like Switzerland I should have married a banker or become one myself.
So, living in these interesting areas we have chosen to live (Rob and I have lived in Egypt, the Philippines and now Indonesia) means listening to various Department of Defense security briefings. Always interesting, but it is stressful to live your life on orange alert.
I knew I needed a break one day in the Philippines. We lived on a camp five hours out of Manila, again in the middle of the Godforsaken jungle. The camp was set up at the site of the earth fill dam Rob’s company was building. The nearest town was 20 minutes away. We attended church there, one of two families who were not Filipino in this huge building that had to seat at least 1000. The priest was very generous, because he would type his homily in English and dispatch an Altar boy to come find us every Sunday (the Mass was in Tagalog, but we could follow along with the good ‘ol Catholic Sunday missal).
We came out of church one morning finding the car without a driver and unlocked. I threw my arms up in front of the family and told them to stop. Then, I circled the car slowly, looking under, on and around for anything unusual or out of place. Rob asked me what I was doing. I told him I was checking for explosives. He rolled his eyes and told me to get in the car. Thank goodness home leave was coming up soon.
Maybe I’m a drama queen, but I’m used to varying my route, noticing who is in the neighborhood, and always knowing where the family is.
Watching Hotel Rwanda last year was one of the hardest things I’ve done. It brought up a lot of feelings of sadness and although I certainly never witnessed anything as tragic as that genocide, living in that continent is sure to make you aware of peoples' suffering at a visceral level.
Liberia was a hard place to live, even if I was a coddled Westerner and a teenager thankfully unaware of everything going on. But I had one friend gang raped on the beach we swam on near my house (group of drugged out Nigerians); one friend knifed at another beach and medovaced out of the country (her father I was to learn later was the head of CIA operations in the country); one Lebanese friend who was married in an arranged marriage at the tender age of 16; (she was happy, but what an eye opening education for me!). I remember the countless beggars in the main city, many missing limbs, scooting around on skateboards. I remember our ‘houseboy’ Isaac taking his very sick little baby to the ‘witchdoctor’ to get cured (I think again my mom intervened and brought him to an actual hospital). Just the fact that we employed this man so he could feed his family is sad. Whatever happened to him after we left?
I remember friends I went to school with who had lost their fathers and uncles on ‘Redemption Beach’ in 1980 during that horrible, horrible coup. I still wonder what happened to those people after we left and the country was once again through into civil war. I remember Nigerian friends who had fled the civil war in their home country to find a new life in Liberia, only to be caught in yet another war. And the same for all the Lebanese merchants who fled Lebanon and opened shops in Liberia just to loose them again when crazed militants torched them and stole everything they had earned.
Anyway, I’d mentioned grenades before I started this trip down memory lane. Here in Banda, besides uncovering old explosives left behind after all the fighting, they are starting to have more and more political activity that is involving grenades. (And thanks again to USAID for the information and recommendations.) There is no need for us to be alarmed at this point, since the targets seem to be carefully chosen ‘political’ targets and not the reconstruction community.
So here again, taken from USAID, possibly a very good entry in the next “What To Do in The Worst Possible Scenario” Book, or whatever it’s called:
Grenades come in many unpleasant varieties. White phosphorus grenades are at one end of the spectrum and at the other is the more common fragmentation grenade. The reality of fragmentation grenade explosions is very different from the movies. Bodies do not fly through the air, buildings do not sag and collapse, there is no ‘fiery’ explosion. Just a ‘crump’ sound and a large swirl of hot air and surface debris. Unless you are within close range they are not especially ‘dramatic’. A fragmentation grenade thrown at the outside of a building will only cause superficial damage. They are not designed to be used against ‘hard targets’ i.e. buildings, but ‘soft targets’ i.e. human beings.
The two parts of a fragmentation grenade explosion are:
The Blast – this will disorient and incapacitate you. Clothes and eardrums are likely to be shredded.
Shrapnel – This will would and kill you. The two types of shrapnel associated with most fragmentation grenade explosions are:
Big bits. The most dangerous bits of a grenade explosion are the pieces of outer casing. These are designed to be split open and propelled outwards by the initial blast. As they are large and jagged pieces of metal hurtling at high speed they will pit buildings and maim or kill people.
Small Bits. In addition, fragmentation grenades may e ‘packed with filler’ shrapnel. These smaller pieces of shrapnel may kill but are primarily designed to wound. In addition, small pieces of ‘collateral shrapnel’ from the explosion surface may cause injury.
Clearly, if you are unfortunately enough to be I the immediate blast or shrapnel area of an exploding grenade, you may suffer major damage. Variables that will affect your chances of surviving a grenade explosion are whether or not you are in an enclosed space, whether it was a hard or soft surface explosion or air burst, and the type and explosive charge of the grenade. In addition, all these variables will change the ‘kill’ zone of the explosion. For most grenades, the ‘kill’ zone is 3 meters and many people survive within a meter of an explosion if they are on the ground. So, if a grenade lands at your feet, do a John Wayne and try to pick it up and throw it or kick it away.
If you have time to even consider that, you also have time to throw yourself on the ground on your belly away from the grenade with the soles of your feet at the grenade, feet together.
So, while I don’t tend to panic too much when my husband calls me from hiding under the desk in a colleague’s office because there are angry villages storming his office, or a written death threat against him is delivered, or the police are requesting him to report and testify in a contractor case, I’m also a realist that although the majority of the people on this earth are good, there are a few who are not.
Before I get everyone in a panic, that’s why we don’t live in Egypt at the moment and why we left the Philippines when we did. While we have a little bit of craziness in our souls, we aren’t completely crazy and are sure to protect our family.
At the same time, I’m proud of my family and the work that we’ve been able to do, whether it be creating sewer systems for villages that didn’t have any, electricity to those who didn’t have it before (okay, I’m a republican and this is my take on it, everyone I’m sure has a different viewpoint) and houses to those who have lost absolutely everything in a terrible natural disaster.
That said, I can’t wait to get the Beemer out of mini storage, go through the Starbucks drive through and find out who wins American Idol.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Tolerance Is Not Acceptance
Banda Aceh, Indonesia is a strict Muslim area. While it has a police force, it is also ruled by Sharia law, which is a body of Islamic law. It is based on the Koran, the Islamic holy book. For lots of info check out Wikipedia.
Being an outsider to this area that has been closed off from most of the rest of the world for 30 years due to civil war, there are certain rules we must abide by in order to live here peacefully.
Sharia law can be interpreted differently depending on the country, it's mores and muslim sect.
Here are the main points for us to live our lives by day to day in Banda: (Thanks to USAID and CRS for their excellent presentation of materials to us lowly Internationals)
Being an outsider to this area that has been closed off from most of the rest of the world for 30 years due to civil war, there are certain rules we must abide by in order to live here peacefully.
Sharia law can be interpreted differently depending on the country, it's mores and muslim sect.
Here are the main points for us to live our lives by day to day in Banda: (Thanks to USAID and CRS for their excellent presentation of materials to us lowly Internationals)
- Sharia law includes both written and unwritten laws. While Muslims are subject to the law, non-Muslims must at least respect the law.
- It is important that we as visitors to the area respect the law since community acceptance is the key to avoiding problems - Sharia police are not the only ones patrolling - 95% of the cases are initiated by the community, since the communities have been empowered to take enforcement of sharia into their own hands.
- Muslims are prohibited from drinking, buying, selling, or even being around alcohol. While the written law does not apply to non-Mulslims, we have to be careful not to drink it, get drnk or flaunt it in public. Being discreet means right down to the way in which it is disposed of. If a Muslim friend is with you while you are drinking, it is possible you can put them into jeopardy.
- Interaction between genders is tricky since it isn't written as clearly, and depending on the situation can be applied to both Muslims and non-Muslims. It is important to be aware of creating misperceptions. Office hours should be considered, such as how smart is it to allow male and female workers to be in the office after hours, and where staff stay when travelling. Hotels are regularly raided by Sharia police and it's usually the hotel staff who tip them off. Sometimes it's smarter to request different floors for different genders. Many NGOs have 'guest houses' for their workers where everyone has their own bedroom, but share living quarters. Recently in Melaboh, a guest house was raided and a Javanese woman an Acehnese man were 'arrested' and given a month to get married.
- Dressing properly is very important. Even men have been arrested for wearing 'too short of shorts' and two female NGO workers were removed from a conference due to their 'inappropriate dress.' (If I go out to fulfill my ESRI work obligations out and about the town you better believe the only thing exposed are my toes. I'm a tunic wearing maniac. I don't even feel comfortable wearing tank tops anymore. What has become of my southern California wear my bathing suit all summer and a pair of flip flops self????)
Well, hope this gives you a nice picture of life here in Banda. Cheers. Next,.. a lesson on grenades!
Monday, April 30, 2007
Rest and Relaxation in Bali, or "When You're Not Getting Mugged By a Monkey, Get Drowned By a Dolphin!"
So, I’m buying a skirt and a beach cover up at this little store in Kuta, Bali when one of the female clerks pats me on the butt and says in Indonesian, “you have a nice butt – it’s big!”
Argh! So, I explain, no, it’s not a nice butt, I want a small butt. Both the clerks helping me disagree saying that big butts are better here in Indonesia; men like big butts.
I tell them that in America, small butts are better. They laugh and tell me how crazy we Americans are. I tell them I have a Beyonce butt. They look confused.
“Do you know Beyonce?” I ask. Both shake their heads.
“J Lo?” I ask again. They both nod in affirmation.
“I have a J Lo butt,” I say. They laugh and agree.
But enough about me. Bali was fabulous, big butts and all. We spent our second R&R on that amazing island, and we have come to the conclusion that with all these kids and our living conditions at the moment, we are resort junkies.
We stayed at the Hard Rock Hotel in Kuta, and loved every single minute of its sterile, coddling, over the top luxurious environment. From the moment we stepped into the main lobby at 8pm on Saturday hearing a live rock band playing in the bar, to the buffet breakfasts complete with pork(!) bacon, to the ridiculously large pool equipped with two kids’ slides, kiddie pool, fountains galore and sand pool, and just across the street from the best surf beach I have EVER seen, we were in heaven.
Rob’s mantra of the week was ‘these kids have no idea how lucky they are’ as we spent entire days at the pool, taking turns on the sand island playing volleyball, napping with the baby and eating all sorts of American comfort food in the private cabana, and swimming every inch of that enormous pool. Even though we have our own pool back in So Cal, and all the kids have basically grown up in water, this was the first time witnessing the green hair syndrome because we spent soooo much time frolicking in chlorine.
When not at the pool, we schlepped across the street to the beach with four kids, three surfboards, diaper bag, drinks, snacks, and straw mats to sit on. Rob went into the ocean to monitor near drowning incidents and help maneuver boys and boards. I hung out on the beach with the baby and about a million people hawking their wares.
I’ve learned the best way to disarm all the hawkers is to speak bahasa Indonesian back at them. The hawkers are so surprised they forget they are trying to sell you a surf board/body board/ice cream/soda/water/ice/hair plaiting/massage/manicure/pedicure/fake tattoo/fresh cut fruit and ask you if you are Australian, where you live and exclaim that you have a large family, ‘just like the Balinese!’
One afternoon as I was hanging with the ‘B’ (for baby) as we call her, I had one old man hawker and a young tattooed surfboard hawker sitting with me. We were conversing in my pigeon Indonesian. The young hip dude with the earring, long hair and tats on every exposed limb commented that I had four boys. The old man corrected him saying B was a girl. I laughed and pointed out that the kid was covered in pink, thus she was a girl. To that the old man asked why her ears weren’t pierced. I explained in America many people wait until the girl is older before piercing. (Unlike Sabrina’s Godmother who I had to have sign a contract that she would not go running out with my daughter the minute she had her 3 month shots to get her ears pierced.) He said that he could solve that RIGHT NOW and started to get up. I grabbed his arm and said gently, no not today, not tomorrow, not the day after tomorrow,.. Yikes. All I need is an impromptu ear piercing on the beach in Kuta. Very hygienic, I’m sure.
The rest of the vacation was an animal adventure. We took off part way through the week to go to Lovina, on the north of the island. On the way we stopped at the Sacred Monkey Forest, aka, Get Mugged By a Monkey Forest. Because, as I’m sure you are aware, there is nothing more meditative than walking down a concrete path in the jungle dodging pesky wild monkeys.
As the boys begged to buy bananas from the vendor to feed to the monkeys, I watched a couple do that very thing.. They bought a bunch of bananas, walked a few feet to the start of the path and offered one banana to a large male monkey. The monkey subsequently swiped the one banana and then attacked the man, pulling on the rest of the bananas. The man finally realized he was not going to win that fight, and let go, the monkey loping off with a stolen bunch of bananas. I decided then not to buy any bananas and then put the fear of God into the boys that they should not run, scream, make any sudden movements, try and pet monkeys or have any other sort of fun time while in the forest.
I was glad I left everything in the car as next I witnessed a man carrying a water bottle get attacked by another monkey. He raised the bottle above his head, but the monkey just climbed him to get to the bottle. I had to yell at one of the sarong clad ‘monkey keepers’ to help get the obviously rabid monkey off the poor tourist. The monkey keeper just laughed.
Next, I turn around to find Kyle holding a banana leaf at another big male monkey who grabs it and they start playing tug-of-war. We yell at Kyle to drop the banana leaf. Kyle is instantly embarrassed we caught him disobeying and puts his hands in his pockets. The monkey tries to put his paws in Kyle’s pocket, too. Yell at Kyle to remove hands from pocket as monkey thinks he is hiding food there. Kyle removed his hand, disengaging the monkey and it saunters on to the next unsuspecting tourist.
Just as we started to walk down the path a bit more, Jared asked if he could let a monkey climb on him. I see woman out of the corner of my eye do this to have her picture taken. As she is getting up, the monkey bites her on the back. Tell him no and quickly get away from monkeys, deciding to take refuge in a temple.
We do visit a very cool temple before attempting to escape the enchanted monkey forest, getting caught in a fight between different gangs of monkeys. See life flash before my eyes as they fight in the middle of our family and wonder where in Bali you can get rabies shots. Make it out safely in order to eat lunch in full view of island’s active volcano. Boys very impressed that it blew up as recently as 1996.
Get to our final destination, a nice hotel in Lovina on the north of the island. Zach labels this hotel most accurately as he exclaims it a ‘zootel.’ The only way to describe this hotel is what would happen if a little boy had a lot of money and made his dream vacation spot come true; a wild little hotel in a tropical jungle with cages of animals hidden around every corner. Going to the pool meant walking past a pasture of some sort of small dear and wallabies. Turn to go over little foot bridge, but watch out! Glass enclosure with 6 foot python to your left! Choice of seating arrangements at the pool included either sitting with the baby shark in a tank, or near a fairly good sized crocodile in a pit. Lonely when you are in the bathroom? Fear not, as each bathroom seemed to be equipped with its own - I kid you not - turtle in simulated natural environment. Nothing like lathering up under a hot shower with a turtle staring you down as he/she floats among the plastic plants in its own little pool.
The boys, of course, thought there was absolutely nothing better than this jungle environment and they spent countless hours visiting their new animal friends. Of course, this requires naming their friends, so we had ‘Rang Rang the Orangutan, Black Ninja, the crazy little black monkey, Chisel Wisel the ‘moosa’ as they are called here in Indonesia (I think it’s an Ocelot), Walter the Wallaby, and the deer family of Three-legged Joe (lost a foot somehow), Junior and Horns. An animal handler corrected them letting them know Three-legged Joe was a girl, so they change her name to Three-legged Jill.
Perhaps I wasn’t as excited as the boys to share my accommodations with so many wily jungle creatures, but I can play Dr. Doolittle for a couple of nights because this hotel also boasts a saltwater pool with its very own dolphins. I was afraid of the condition of these animals before arriving at the hotel, but they were very well taken care of, and the staff very knowledgeable.
The same night we arrived, the boys suited up and jumped into the dolphin pool along with the trainer. Not two minutes later Kyle is crying bloody murder and Jared is screaming for help. Seems these are boy dolphins and like human boys, are quite frisky. So, we take the boys out of the pool and go visit the two girl dolphins. Of course, by this time, Kyle is absolutely terrified of Flipper and all his cousins and I am afraid now he’ll grow up to fish for tuna with a net, or be arrested for not cutting his soda six-pack rings and tossing them into the ocean.
This time it takes Rob getting into the pool with each boy individually and coaxing the female dolphins. By the time we are done, the boys have each had a much tamer time with the creatures and no one has nightmares after going to bed.
Next night we try it again; I want to swim with a dolphin! So, I get into the girl dolphin pool and take each kid with me to pet the dolphins. Excellent experience! But as gentle and intelligent as these creatures are, they are still creatures and they are BIG and STRONG and they have sharp little teeth.
I have to hang on to the side of the pool with Kyle and Zach as they are attempting to climb on my head to get away from the dolphins they want so desperately to touch. Jared gives me the opportunity to drag him out to the middle of the pool with the dolphins. Not so much because he isn’t afraid, but he has on a life jacket that is too big and subsequently can’t move his arms to fend me off. We go and pet one of the dolphins and it falls asleep! Just like petting a cat! Then we turn around and start petting the other dolphin.
Well, just like a cat, that first dolphin decided to reciprocate by swimming over and rubbing against me. Unlike a cat, a dolphin is BIG and the whole experience is a little unsettling, especially since I didn’t see it coming. None the less, we survive our experience and swim to the side to talk about how cool it was we got to swim with dolphins.
As we are doing this, I’m dangling my feet into the pool and one of the dolphins swims over slowly, mouth agape, flashing two rows of little razor sharp dolphin teeth. I pull out my feet quickly making the trainer laugh again. He tells me the dolphin won’t bite. But I’ve seen this very same behavior in my big stupid dog Max, and while he doesn’t mean any harm either, he has sharp teeth, and they can be a bit uncomfortable.
We are sad to leave Bali on Saturday, but a promise of lunch at the Jakarta airport McDonald’s gets kids on and off planes. We actually experience one landing that is comfortable. Most Garuda airlines experiences we’ve had, the plane descends so quickly it slams into the ground and you experience negative g-forces as the pilot attempts to brake, making it feel like the tail of the plane is going to flip over the front in a big somersault.
We enquired as to why we get to stay on the plane in Medan on the way back to Banda from Jakarta, because going the other way, coming from Banda, we have to disembark. The flight attendant explains that all planes coming out of Banda have to be swept clean, and you know what that means.
The boys are happy to be home and see that big, stupid dog Max. The nanny is happy to have the B back, and the first thing she does is size her up, pinch an arm between her fingers and announce that she is ‘kecil’ – small. I am always accused of starving the baby and returning her in some sort of wasted state.
I know I am truly back home as I open my last bag of sealed flour to make bread and out pop a bunch of weevils. I complain to my nanny that I need more flour. She looks at the bag, shrugs her shoulders and offers me the strainer. Ah, it’s good to be back home!
Argh! So, I explain, no, it’s not a nice butt, I want a small butt. Both the clerks helping me disagree saying that big butts are better here in Indonesia; men like big butts.
I tell them that in America, small butts are better. They laugh and tell me how crazy we Americans are. I tell them I have a Beyonce butt. They look confused.
“Do you know Beyonce?” I ask. Both shake their heads.
“J Lo?” I ask again. They both nod in affirmation.
“I have a J Lo butt,” I say. They laugh and agree.
But enough about me. Bali was fabulous, big butts and all. We spent our second R&R on that amazing island, and we have come to the conclusion that with all these kids and our living conditions at the moment, we are resort junkies.
We stayed at the Hard Rock Hotel in Kuta, and loved every single minute of its sterile, coddling, over the top luxurious environment. From the moment we stepped into the main lobby at 8pm on Saturday hearing a live rock band playing in the bar, to the buffet breakfasts complete with pork(!) bacon, to the ridiculously large pool equipped with two kids’ slides, kiddie pool, fountains galore and sand pool, and just across the street from the best surf beach I have EVER seen, we were in heaven.
Rob’s mantra of the week was ‘these kids have no idea how lucky they are’ as we spent entire days at the pool, taking turns on the sand island playing volleyball, napping with the baby and eating all sorts of American comfort food in the private cabana, and swimming every inch of that enormous pool. Even though we have our own pool back in So Cal, and all the kids have basically grown up in water, this was the first time witnessing the green hair syndrome because we spent soooo much time frolicking in chlorine.
When not at the pool, we schlepped across the street to the beach with four kids, three surfboards, diaper bag, drinks, snacks, and straw mats to sit on. Rob went into the ocean to monitor near drowning incidents and help maneuver boys and boards. I hung out on the beach with the baby and about a million people hawking their wares.
I’ve learned the best way to disarm all the hawkers is to speak bahasa Indonesian back at them. The hawkers are so surprised they forget they are trying to sell you a surf board/body board/ice cream/soda/water/ice/hair plaiting/massage/manicure/pedicure/fake tattoo/fresh cut fruit and ask you if you are Australian, where you live and exclaim that you have a large family, ‘just like the Balinese!’
One afternoon as I was hanging with the ‘B’ (for baby) as we call her, I had one old man hawker and a young tattooed surfboard hawker sitting with me. We were conversing in my pigeon Indonesian. The young hip dude with the earring, long hair and tats on every exposed limb commented that I had four boys. The old man corrected him saying B was a girl. I laughed and pointed out that the kid was covered in pink, thus she was a girl. To that the old man asked why her ears weren’t pierced. I explained in America many people wait until the girl is older before piercing. (Unlike Sabrina’s Godmother who I had to have sign a contract that she would not go running out with my daughter the minute she had her 3 month shots to get her ears pierced.) He said that he could solve that RIGHT NOW and started to get up. I grabbed his arm and said gently, no not today, not tomorrow, not the day after tomorrow,.. Yikes. All I need is an impromptu ear piercing on the beach in Kuta. Very hygienic, I’m sure.
The rest of the vacation was an animal adventure. We took off part way through the week to go to Lovina, on the north of the island. On the way we stopped at the Sacred Monkey Forest, aka, Get Mugged By a Monkey Forest. Because, as I’m sure you are aware, there is nothing more meditative than walking down a concrete path in the jungle dodging pesky wild monkeys.
As the boys begged to buy bananas from the vendor to feed to the monkeys, I watched a couple do that very thing.. They bought a bunch of bananas, walked a few feet to the start of the path and offered one banana to a large male monkey. The monkey subsequently swiped the one banana and then attacked the man, pulling on the rest of the bananas. The man finally realized he was not going to win that fight, and let go, the monkey loping off with a stolen bunch of bananas. I decided then not to buy any bananas and then put the fear of God into the boys that they should not run, scream, make any sudden movements, try and pet monkeys or have any other sort of fun time while in the forest.
I was glad I left everything in the car as next I witnessed a man carrying a water bottle get attacked by another monkey. He raised the bottle above his head, but the monkey just climbed him to get to the bottle. I had to yell at one of the sarong clad ‘monkey keepers’ to help get the obviously rabid monkey off the poor tourist. The monkey keeper just laughed.
Next, I turn around to find Kyle holding a banana leaf at another big male monkey who grabs it and they start playing tug-of-war. We yell at Kyle to drop the banana leaf. Kyle is instantly embarrassed we caught him disobeying and puts his hands in his pockets. The monkey tries to put his paws in Kyle’s pocket, too. Yell at Kyle to remove hands from pocket as monkey thinks he is hiding food there. Kyle removed his hand, disengaging the monkey and it saunters on to the next unsuspecting tourist.
Just as we started to walk down the path a bit more, Jared asked if he could let a monkey climb on him. I see woman out of the corner of my eye do this to have her picture taken. As she is getting up, the monkey bites her on the back. Tell him no and quickly get away from monkeys, deciding to take refuge in a temple.
We do visit a very cool temple before attempting to escape the enchanted monkey forest, getting caught in a fight between different gangs of monkeys. See life flash before my eyes as they fight in the middle of our family and wonder where in Bali you can get rabies shots. Make it out safely in order to eat lunch in full view of island’s active volcano. Boys very impressed that it blew up as recently as 1996.
Get to our final destination, a nice hotel in Lovina on the north of the island. Zach labels this hotel most accurately as he exclaims it a ‘zootel.’ The only way to describe this hotel is what would happen if a little boy had a lot of money and made his dream vacation spot come true; a wild little hotel in a tropical jungle with cages of animals hidden around every corner. Going to the pool meant walking past a pasture of some sort of small dear and wallabies. Turn to go over little foot bridge, but watch out! Glass enclosure with 6 foot python to your left! Choice of seating arrangements at the pool included either sitting with the baby shark in a tank, or near a fairly good sized crocodile in a pit. Lonely when you are in the bathroom? Fear not, as each bathroom seemed to be equipped with its own - I kid you not - turtle in simulated natural environment. Nothing like lathering up under a hot shower with a turtle staring you down as he/she floats among the plastic plants in its own little pool.
The boys, of course, thought there was absolutely nothing better than this jungle environment and they spent countless hours visiting their new animal friends. Of course, this requires naming their friends, so we had ‘Rang Rang the Orangutan, Black Ninja, the crazy little black monkey, Chisel Wisel the ‘moosa’ as they are called here in Indonesia (I think it’s an Ocelot), Walter the Wallaby, and the deer family of Three-legged Joe (lost a foot somehow), Junior and Horns. An animal handler corrected them letting them know Three-legged Joe was a girl, so they change her name to Three-legged Jill.
Perhaps I wasn’t as excited as the boys to share my accommodations with so many wily jungle creatures, but I can play Dr. Doolittle for a couple of nights because this hotel also boasts a saltwater pool with its very own dolphins. I was afraid of the condition of these animals before arriving at the hotel, but they were very well taken care of, and the staff very knowledgeable.
The same night we arrived, the boys suited up and jumped into the dolphin pool along with the trainer. Not two minutes later Kyle is crying bloody murder and Jared is screaming for help. Seems these are boy dolphins and like human boys, are quite frisky. So, we take the boys out of the pool and go visit the two girl dolphins. Of course, by this time, Kyle is absolutely terrified of Flipper and all his cousins and I am afraid now he’ll grow up to fish for tuna with a net, or be arrested for not cutting his soda six-pack rings and tossing them into the ocean.
This time it takes Rob getting into the pool with each boy individually and coaxing the female dolphins. By the time we are done, the boys have each had a much tamer time with the creatures and no one has nightmares after going to bed.
Next night we try it again; I want to swim with a dolphin! So, I get into the girl dolphin pool and take each kid with me to pet the dolphins. Excellent experience! But as gentle and intelligent as these creatures are, they are still creatures and they are BIG and STRONG and they have sharp little teeth.
I have to hang on to the side of the pool with Kyle and Zach as they are attempting to climb on my head to get away from the dolphins they want so desperately to touch. Jared gives me the opportunity to drag him out to the middle of the pool with the dolphins. Not so much because he isn’t afraid, but he has on a life jacket that is too big and subsequently can’t move his arms to fend me off. We go and pet one of the dolphins and it falls asleep! Just like petting a cat! Then we turn around and start petting the other dolphin.
Well, just like a cat, that first dolphin decided to reciprocate by swimming over and rubbing against me. Unlike a cat, a dolphin is BIG and the whole experience is a little unsettling, especially since I didn’t see it coming. None the less, we survive our experience and swim to the side to talk about how cool it was we got to swim with dolphins.
As we are doing this, I’m dangling my feet into the pool and one of the dolphins swims over slowly, mouth agape, flashing two rows of little razor sharp dolphin teeth. I pull out my feet quickly making the trainer laugh again. He tells me the dolphin won’t bite. But I’ve seen this very same behavior in my big stupid dog Max, and while he doesn’t mean any harm either, he has sharp teeth, and they can be a bit uncomfortable.
We are sad to leave Bali on Saturday, but a promise of lunch at the Jakarta airport McDonald’s gets kids on and off planes. We actually experience one landing that is comfortable. Most Garuda airlines experiences we’ve had, the plane descends so quickly it slams into the ground and you experience negative g-forces as the pilot attempts to brake, making it feel like the tail of the plane is going to flip over the front in a big somersault.
We enquired as to why we get to stay on the plane in Medan on the way back to Banda from Jakarta, because going the other way, coming from Banda, we have to disembark. The flight attendant explains that all planes coming out of Banda have to be swept clean, and you know what that means.
The boys are happy to be home and see that big, stupid dog Max. The nanny is happy to have the B back, and the first thing she does is size her up, pinch an arm between her fingers and announce that she is ‘kecil’ – small. I am always accused of starving the baby and returning her in some sort of wasted state.
I know I am truly back home as I open my last bag of sealed flour to make bread and out pop a bunch of weevils. I complain to my nanny that I need more flour. She looks at the bag, shrugs her shoulders and offers me the strainer. Ah, it’s good to be back home!
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Picture of the Day
Gads.
I am a technological nightmare. I'll tell you alllll about it later, but it has something to do with a $250 phone that I can't download pictures from and bringing my laptop to the local computer witch doctor to get fixed. I know that "IF IT SOUNDS TO GOOD TO BE TRUE, IT PROBABLY IS,..." but I'm a dreamer. After shelling out $8.00 for the witch doctor to completely suck the brains off my computer, destroy the trojan horse that was on it and put most (a sporadic most at that) of my files back on, I should not be surprised that Big Brother Microsoft has spotted me on the Web and keeps sending littl annoying pop up reminders that 'MY SYSTEM IS AT RISK' and I am basically a criminal and should be expected to be detained this summer when I attempt to come back in to my home country.
So, anyway, I do have dreams of posting a picture each day to keep the grandparents happy, but user error and techno mishaps are just a few of the hurdles I have to jump to bring you this:
I am a technological nightmare. I'll tell you alllll about it later, but it has something to do with a $250 phone that I can't download pictures from and bringing my laptop to the local computer witch doctor to get fixed. I know that "IF IT SOUNDS TO GOOD TO BE TRUE, IT PROBABLY IS,..." but I'm a dreamer. After shelling out $8.00 for the witch doctor to completely suck the brains off my computer, destroy the trojan horse that was on it and put most (a sporadic most at that) of my files back on, I should not be surprised that Big Brother Microsoft has spotted me on the Web and keeps sending littl annoying pop up reminders that 'MY SYSTEM IS AT RISK' and I am basically a criminal and should be expected to be detained this summer when I attempt to come back in to my home country.
So, anyway, I do have dreams of posting a picture each day to keep the grandparents happy, but user error and techno mishaps are just a few of the hurdles I have to jump to bring you this:
Although it's kinda small, eh? Sigh,.. back to the drawing board,...
Save the Starfish, Save the World!
Researchers say 300 kilometers of sea floor heaved more than a meter upwards
14 Apr: Presszoom
The recent survey by scientists from the Wildlife Conservation Society - Indonesia Program and the Australian Research Council Centre of Excellence for Coral Reef Studies (ARCCoERS) investigated the condition of coral reefs in Pulau Simeulue and Pulau Banyak off Aceh, Indonesia, in March 2007.
NEW YORK -- Scientists have reported what is thought to be one of the world’s greatest mass death of corals ever recorded as a result of the earthquake in Aceh, Indonesia on 28 March 2005. The recent survey by scientists from the Wildlife Conservation Society - Indonesia Program and the Australian Research Council Centre of Excellence for Coral Reef Studies ( ARCCoERS ) investigated the condition of coral reefs in Pulau Simeulue and Pulau Banyak off Aceh, Indonesia, in March 2007.
The surveys covered 35 sites along 600 kms ( 372 miles ) of coastline, have documented, for the first time, the effects of earthquake uplift on coral reefs. The entire island of Simeulue, with a perimeter of approximately 300 km ( 186 miles ), was raised up to 1.2 m ( 3.9 feet ) following the 28 March 2005 earthquake, exposing most of the coral reefs which ringed the island.
Dr Stuart Campbell coordinator of the Wildlife Conservation Society –Indonesia Marine Program reports: "This is a story of mass mortality on a scale rarely observed. In contrast to other threats like coral bleaching, none of the corals uplifted by the earthquake have survived".
Dr Andrew Baird of ARCCoERS says: "Amazingly, the uplifted corals are so well preserved we could still identify each species, despite these colonies having been exposed for two years. Some species suffered up to 100 percent loss at some sites, and different species now dominate the shallow reef."
"This is a unique opportunity to document a process that occurs maybe once a century and promises to provide new insights into coral recovery processes that until now we could only explore on fossil reefs" says Dr Baird.
Dr Campbell adds "The news from Simeulue is not all bad. At many sites, the worst affected species are beginning to re-colonize the shallow reef areas. The reefs appear to be returning to what they looked like before the earthquake, although the process may take many years. "
The challenge now is to work with local communities and government agencies to protect these reefs to ensure the recovery process continues," he says.
The team found coral reefs ranging from highly diverse assemblages of branching corals in sheltered waters to vast areas of table corals inhabiting surf zones. The team also documented, for the first time in Indonesia, extensive damage to reefs caused by the crown-of-thorn starfish, a coral predator that has devastated reefs in Australia and other parts of the world.
"Finding the starfish damage is particularly important" says Dr Baird. "Most observers would attribute damage on this scale to more common reef threats in Indonesia such as cyanide fishing or bleaching. People monitoring Indonesian corals reefs now have another threat to watch out for, and not all reef damage should be immediately attributed to human influences."
Many other reefs, particularly in the Pulau Banyak, continue to be damaged by destructive fishing including bombing and the use of cyanide. These practices are now illegal in Indonesia, and need immediate attention.
Dr Campbell concludes "While reef condition in south-western Aceh is generally poor, we have found some reefs in excellent condition as well as and evidence of recovery at damaged sites. This gives some hope that coral reefs in this remote region can return to their previous condition and provide local communities with the resources they need to prosper. The recovery process will be enhanced by management that encourages sustainable uses of these ecosystems and the protection of critical habitats and species to help this process."
14 Apr: Presszoom
The recent survey by scientists from the Wildlife Conservation Society - Indonesia Program and the Australian Research Council Centre of Excellence for Coral Reef Studies (ARCCoERS) investigated the condition of coral reefs in Pulau Simeulue and Pulau Banyak off Aceh, Indonesia, in March 2007.
NEW YORK -- Scientists have reported what is thought to be one of the world’s greatest mass death of corals ever recorded as a result of the earthquake in Aceh, Indonesia on 28 March 2005. The recent survey by scientists from the Wildlife Conservation Society - Indonesia Program and the Australian Research Council Centre of Excellence for Coral Reef Studies ( ARCCoERS ) investigated the condition of coral reefs in Pulau Simeulue and Pulau Banyak off Aceh, Indonesia, in March 2007.
The surveys covered 35 sites along 600 kms ( 372 miles ) of coastline, have documented, for the first time, the effects of earthquake uplift on coral reefs. The entire island of Simeulue, with a perimeter of approximately 300 km ( 186 miles ), was raised up to 1.2 m ( 3.9 feet ) following the 28 March 2005 earthquake, exposing most of the coral reefs which ringed the island.
Dr Stuart Campbell coordinator of the Wildlife Conservation Society –Indonesia Marine Program reports: "This is a story of mass mortality on a scale rarely observed. In contrast to other threats like coral bleaching, none of the corals uplifted by the earthquake have survived".
Dr Andrew Baird of ARCCoERS says: "Amazingly, the uplifted corals are so well preserved we could still identify each species, despite these colonies having been exposed for two years. Some species suffered up to 100 percent loss at some sites, and different species now dominate the shallow reef."
"This is a unique opportunity to document a process that occurs maybe once a century and promises to provide new insights into coral recovery processes that until now we could only explore on fossil reefs" says Dr Baird.
Dr Campbell adds "The news from Simeulue is not all bad. At many sites, the worst affected species are beginning to re-colonize the shallow reef areas. The reefs appear to be returning to what they looked like before the earthquake, although the process may take many years. "
The challenge now is to work with local communities and government agencies to protect these reefs to ensure the recovery process continues," he says.
The team found coral reefs ranging from highly diverse assemblages of branching corals in sheltered waters to vast areas of table corals inhabiting surf zones. The team also documented, for the first time in Indonesia, extensive damage to reefs caused by the crown-of-thorn starfish, a coral predator that has devastated reefs in Australia and other parts of the world.
"Finding the starfish damage is particularly important" says Dr Baird. "Most observers would attribute damage on this scale to more common reef threats in Indonesia such as cyanide fishing or bleaching. People monitoring Indonesian corals reefs now have another threat to watch out for, and not all reef damage should be immediately attributed to human influences."
Many other reefs, particularly in the Pulau Banyak, continue to be damaged by destructive fishing including bombing and the use of cyanide. These practices are now illegal in Indonesia, and need immediate attention.
Dr Campbell concludes "While reef condition in south-western Aceh is generally poor, we have found some reefs in excellent condition as well as and evidence of recovery at damaged sites. This gives some hope that coral reefs in this remote region can return to their previous condition and provide local communities with the resources they need to prosper. The recovery process will be enhanced by management that encourages sustainable uses of these ecosystems and the protection of critical habitats and species to help this process."
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
"Have A Nice Flight!"
Oh yeah,.,. this is just what I needed right before embarking on Garuda Airlines for our R&R to Bali this Saturday. Nothin' says 'Have fun and relax!' than a Warden message!
U.S. Embassy Jakarta
U.S. Consulate General Surabaya
Warden Message
April 17, 2007
Indonesia has suffered a series of serious aviation incidents and accidents in recent months that raise questions about the safety practices of Indonesian air carriers and their oversight by the Indonesian Directorate General of Civil Aviation (DGCA). On April 16, 2007, the U.S. Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) announced that it had revised Indonesia’s safety oversight category from Category 1 to Category 2 due to serious concerns about DGCA’s safety oversight and operational control systems. Category 2 indicates that the FAA has assessed the Government of Indonesia’s Civil Aviation Authority as not being in compliance with International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO) aviation safety standards for the oversight of Indonesia’s air carrier operations. For more information, travelers may visit the FAA’s internet website at http://www.faa.gov/safety/programs_initiatives/oversight/iasa.
It is important to note that the FAA category designation is different from that used by the DCGA in its March 22, 2007 media release outlining the results of an operational performance assessment for all domestic air carriers. The assessment examined the performance of airlines using 20 different criteria; however, the DGCA has not identified detailed methodology supporting the ratings. Categories as defined in the media release, and DGCA domestic airline assessments, are as follows:
Category One: Airline meets all requirements of civil aviation safety regulations: No Indonesian air carrier was found to meet minimum civil aviation safety standards.
Category Two: Airline has met minimal requirements of civil aviation safety regulations, but some requirements have not been implemented: Garuda Indonesia, Merpati Nusantara Airlines, Lion Mentari Airlines, Sriwijaya Air, Wing Abadi Airlines, Indonesia Air Asia, Pelita Air Service, Riau Airlines, Trigna Air Service, Travel Express Aviation Service, Republic Express Airlines, and Express Transportasi Antarbenua.
Category Three: Airline has met minimal requirements of civil aviation safety regulations, but some requirements have not been implemented, which may reduce safety levels: Metro Batavia, AdamSky Connections Airlines, Kartika Airlines, Trans Wisata Air, Jatayu Gelang Sejahtera, PT. Dirgantara Air Service, Tri MG, Intra Asia Airlines, Manunggal Air Service.
Whenever possible, Americans traveling to and from Indonesia should fly directly to their destinations on international carriers from countries whose civil aviation authorities meet international aviation safety standards for the oversight of their air carrier operations under the FAA’s International Aviation Safety Assessment (IASA) program.
The U.S. Embassy reminds Americans in Indonesia of the continued serious security threat to Americans and other westerners in Indonesia. The Embassy urges Americans to remain vigilant about security at all times. Terrorist attacks could occur at any time and could be directed against any location, including those frequented by foreigners and identifiably American or other western facilities or businesses in Indonesia. Such targets could include but are not limited to places where Americans and other Westerners live, work, congregate, shop or visit, including hotels, clubs, restaurants, shopping centers, identifiably western businesses, housing compounds, transportation systems, places of worship, schools or public recreation events. While past terrorist attacks have involved the use of vehicle-borne explosives or suicide bombers carrying explosives in backpacks, terrorists may use other forms of attack in the future. Terrorists may target individual American citizen residents, visitors, students, or tourists, and tactics could include but are not limited to kidnapping, shooting, or poisoning.
The Embassy strongly encourages Americans in Indonesia, including short-term visitors, to register with the Embassy in Jakarta, the Consulate General in Surabaya, or the Consular Agent in Bali. Registration may be done on-line at http://jakarta.usembassy.gov/consular/onlinereg.html or by telephone to the numbers below.
Information on registration procedures, all security-related Travel Warnings and Public Announcements, and recent Embassy warden messages are posted on the Embassy’s website at http://jakarta.usembassy.gov.
U.S. Embassy Jakarta
U.S. Consulate General Surabaya
Warden Message
April 17, 2007
Indonesia has suffered a series of serious aviation incidents and accidents in recent months that raise questions about the safety practices of Indonesian air carriers and their oversight by the Indonesian Directorate General of Civil Aviation (DGCA). On April 16, 2007, the U.S. Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) announced that it had revised Indonesia’s safety oversight category from Category 1 to Category 2 due to serious concerns about DGCA’s safety oversight and operational control systems. Category 2 indicates that the FAA has assessed the Government of Indonesia’s Civil Aviation Authority as not being in compliance with International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO) aviation safety standards for the oversight of Indonesia’s air carrier operations. For more information, travelers may visit the FAA’s internet website at http://www.faa.gov/safety/programs_initiatives/oversight/iasa.
It is important to note that the FAA category designation is different from that used by the DCGA in its March 22, 2007 media release outlining the results of an operational performance assessment for all domestic air carriers. The assessment examined the performance of airlines using 20 different criteria; however, the DGCA has not identified detailed methodology supporting the ratings. Categories as defined in the media release, and DGCA domestic airline assessments, are as follows:
Category One: Airline meets all requirements of civil aviation safety regulations: No Indonesian air carrier was found to meet minimum civil aviation safety standards.
Category Two: Airline has met minimal requirements of civil aviation safety regulations, but some requirements have not been implemented: Garuda Indonesia, Merpati Nusantara Airlines, Lion Mentari Airlines, Sriwijaya Air, Wing Abadi Airlines, Indonesia Air Asia, Pelita Air Service, Riau Airlines, Trigna Air Service, Travel Express Aviation Service, Republic Express Airlines, and Express Transportasi Antarbenua.
Category Three: Airline has met minimal requirements of civil aviation safety regulations, but some requirements have not been implemented, which may reduce safety levels: Metro Batavia, AdamSky Connections Airlines, Kartika Airlines, Trans Wisata Air, Jatayu Gelang Sejahtera, PT. Dirgantara Air Service, Tri MG, Intra Asia Airlines, Manunggal Air Service.
Whenever possible, Americans traveling to and from Indonesia should fly directly to their destinations on international carriers from countries whose civil aviation authorities meet international aviation safety standards for the oversight of their air carrier operations under the FAA’s International Aviation Safety Assessment (IASA) program.
The U.S. Embassy reminds Americans in Indonesia of the continued serious security threat to Americans and other westerners in Indonesia. The Embassy urges Americans to remain vigilant about security at all times. Terrorist attacks could occur at any time and could be directed against any location, including those frequented by foreigners and identifiably American or other western facilities or businesses in Indonesia. Such targets could include but are not limited to places where Americans and other Westerners live, work, congregate, shop or visit, including hotels, clubs, restaurants, shopping centers, identifiably western businesses, housing compounds, transportation systems, places of worship, schools or public recreation events. While past terrorist attacks have involved the use of vehicle-borne explosives or suicide bombers carrying explosives in backpacks, terrorists may use other forms of attack in the future. Terrorists may target individual American citizen residents, visitors, students, or tourists, and tactics could include but are not limited to kidnapping, shooting, or poisoning.
The Embassy strongly encourages Americans in Indonesia, including short-term visitors, to register with the Embassy in Jakarta, the Consulate General in Surabaya, or the Consular Agent in Bali. Registration may be done on-line at http://jakarta.usembassy.gov/consular/onlinereg.html or by telephone to the numbers below.
Information on registration procedures, all security-related Travel Warnings and Public Announcements, and recent Embassy warden messages are posted on the Embassy’s website at http://jakarta.usembassy.gov.
Easter in the heart of Islam
Okay, Easter season 2007 has finally come to a close for the Richardson family. We had an extended remix dance party holiday since friends of ours were in Singapore renewing their Indonesian Visas over the actual holiday. We waited for them to return, then played host to them and three other families for a belated Easter brunch and Easter egg hunt this past Sunday. This meant we had eight adults and seventeen children (YES, Seventeen!!! We NGO types like to reproduce, I suppose) running amok. Oh, and one happy German Shepherd who snuck food off small kiddies’ plates when the terminator (that’s me) wasn’t looking.
The real Easter Sunday was the usual get up at 5AM to see what the bunny brought. Jared is on the cusp, so to speak, of believing in these ethereal characters. So, while Zach spent most of his week up until the big event writing various love letters to the Easter Rabbit, Jared took a more high brow, mature approach and made Stations of the Cross pictures for us to tape to the walls of the house. At the last minute, Jared did break down and write a letter to the Easter Bunny requesting a photograph, just to ensure the basket of goodies on said morning. Smart kid.
When the Easter Bunny DID actually leave Jared a picture, he was astounded and has put the picture in a place of honor on his school desk. The boys were all impressed with the International savvy of the rabbit, as he had candy from Indonesia AND Scooby Snacks which can only be had in the US, they insist. Quite the magic animal, that Easter Bunny.
Then, on to the official Easter egg hunt. I think both Rob and my families had Easter egg hunts well until all the ‘babies’ were driving or growing facial hair. Thank goodness the magical rabbit tells us the number of eggs he hides in his ‘thank you for the treats’ letter or we’d search forever.
That evening was the English service at the local Catholic Church. Felt guilty that we haven’t done more during Lent this year. After our 2 ½ hour Bahasa Indonesian Christmas Mass experience where I gave a man on the verge of passing out my bottle of water, we opted out of any of the Holy Thursday, Good Friday or Easter Vigil Masses.
Really missed the Easter Vigil mass since for the past two years Rob and I have taken turns being RCIA sponsors. Congratulations Myra and Tom! Can’t wait for Teri next year! It’s so hard being away from our communities, whether friends or family, especially on holidays.
The whole Lenten experience has left something to be desired for me this year. I think about how much I really rely on my community to drive my spirit and my quest to be a better human being. Whether it’s Mass, attending MOPS, or a bible study at the local Protestant church, it helps to be around people who are good role models. Otherwise I revert to my normal state of being, which is quite crabby.
This year it’s been hard to abstain during Lent when I feel like I’m doing that by living here anyway. I’m shallow. I’m shallow enough to give up shopping most years for Lent. And I am always pledging for the whole Lenten season that I will put a quarter in a jar every time I swear. But this is an impossible thing to explain to small children without sounding like the worst mother on earth. For those a little older, it leads to a forty day discussion on whether the word ‘frickin’ is in fact a swear word.
So, after our Sunday Church experience we had the ol’ Easter Pizza Delivery and called it a day. I felt okay with the whole pizza thing since the night before we had dinner at the CRS’s Director’s house and it was fantabulous. And I was cooking brunch the following weekend. But I do miss the whole Easter feast thing. Especially the ham. Not to be had in this Muslim Province.
The real Easter Sunday was the usual get up at 5AM to see what the bunny brought. Jared is on the cusp, so to speak, of believing in these ethereal characters. So, while Zach spent most of his week up until the big event writing various love letters to the Easter Rabbit, Jared took a more high brow, mature approach and made Stations of the Cross pictures for us to tape to the walls of the house. At the last minute, Jared did break down and write a letter to the Easter Bunny requesting a photograph, just to ensure the basket of goodies on said morning. Smart kid.
When the Easter Bunny DID actually leave Jared a picture, he was astounded and has put the picture in a place of honor on his school desk. The boys were all impressed with the International savvy of the rabbit, as he had candy from Indonesia AND Scooby Snacks which can only be had in the US, they insist. Quite the magic animal, that Easter Bunny.
Then, on to the official Easter egg hunt. I think both Rob and my families had Easter egg hunts well until all the ‘babies’ were driving or growing facial hair. Thank goodness the magical rabbit tells us the number of eggs he hides in his ‘thank you for the treats’ letter or we’d search forever.
That evening was the English service at the local Catholic Church. Felt guilty that we haven’t done more during Lent this year. After our 2 ½ hour Bahasa Indonesian Christmas Mass experience where I gave a man on the verge of passing out my bottle of water, we opted out of any of the Holy Thursday, Good Friday or Easter Vigil Masses.
Really missed the Easter Vigil mass since for the past two years Rob and I have taken turns being RCIA sponsors. Congratulations Myra and Tom! Can’t wait for Teri next year! It’s so hard being away from our communities, whether friends or family, especially on holidays.
The whole Lenten experience has left something to be desired for me this year. I think about how much I really rely on my community to drive my spirit and my quest to be a better human being. Whether it’s Mass, attending MOPS, or a bible study at the local Protestant church, it helps to be around people who are good role models. Otherwise I revert to my normal state of being, which is quite crabby.
This year it’s been hard to abstain during Lent when I feel like I’m doing that by living here anyway. I’m shallow. I’m shallow enough to give up shopping most years for Lent. And I am always pledging for the whole Lenten season that I will put a quarter in a jar every time I swear. But this is an impossible thing to explain to small children without sounding like the worst mother on earth. For those a little older, it leads to a forty day discussion on whether the word ‘frickin’ is in fact a swear word.
So, after our Sunday Church experience we had the ol’ Easter Pizza Delivery and called it a day. I felt okay with the whole pizza thing since the night before we had dinner at the CRS’s Director’s house and it was fantabulous. And I was cooking brunch the following weekend. But I do miss the whole Easter feast thing. Especially the ham. Not to be had in this Muslim Province.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Wash Your Hands!
This from my buddy Gita who left CRS to work as a PR chick at the Red Cross (I forgive you!). Check out Relief Web for more information, uplifting or depressing, depending on your frame of mind, on what's going on in the world to help people who are not as fortunate as you and me.
Indonesia: Improving water and sanitation through community training in Aceh - Apr 5: Relief Web
By Gita Modgil, Canadian Red Cross, in Banda Aceh, Indonesia
Yanti walks towards her house in the Walubi temporary living centre where she has been staying with surviving members of her family since the 2004 tsunami destroyed her home.
Along the way, she meets her neighbour’s daughter, Putri, who is washing her hands. “Are you using soap?” asks Yanti.
Putri smiles, says a big “yes” and runs off to play with her friends.
Yanti is part of a new group of community-based outreach workers, who are leading efforts by the Canadian Red Cross to bring hygiene care and sanitation promotion to communities across Aceh.
“I encourage them to wash their hands with soap after latrine use. When preserving cooked food, always cover it with a lid. They listen to me carefully and try to follow the instructions. It’s the first time they’re hearing these messages,” says Yanti.
Around 114 community health volunteers have already been provided with Participatory Hygiene and Sanitation Transformation (PHAST) training by the Canadian Red Cross. PHAST training uses innovative approaches and tools to promote hygiene, sanitation and community management of water and sanitation facilities.
“The underlying basis for the PHAST approach is that no lasting change in people’s behaviour will occur without understanding and believing, and this requires culturally sensitive and appropriate health education. The training method employed by Canadian Red Cross uses tools that are very participatory and visual, like community story telling,” says Meiry Nasution, a hygiene promotion coordinator for Canadian Red Cross.
Canadian Red Cross is combining the PHAST training with much-needed sanitation facilities for over 16,000 people spread across 12 temporary living centres in Aceh. These include the construction of bathing and washing areas, latrines with improved safety features for female users (such as lights, locks, and garbage bins for disposal of sanitary products), septic tanks, as well as providing cleaning materials.
“After the tsunami there was an increase in stomach aches and diarrhea but even before the tsunami we used to suffer from scabies and other skin diseases. But the interventions carried out by agencies like Canadian Red Cross have assisted us in reducing that. Because of the PHAST training I know that my children would get these skin diseases because they would go to the bathroom in front of our house and then play near that area,” says Dahaiyar who recently received PHAST training.
Yanti, her friend Mala, and the other community health workers in Walubi bring together the whole community on one day each month to clean the temporary living centre. Yanti puts together a list of responsibilities for each member during the community service day known locally as ‘Gotong Royong’.
“I like to see the barrack clean. Even though we don’t get a salary, we do it for our community. The training gave me the knowledge I needed to make my community better and safer,” says Mala.
“The volunteer community health workers are the lynchpin of our efforts to bring quality health care to people and to change their health and hygiene habits. The tsunami has given us a window to raise the bar in the areas of hygiene and sanitation,” says Natalie Jette, the water and sanitation delegate for Canadian Red Cross in Aceh.
Indonesia: Improving water and sanitation through community training in Aceh - Apr 5: Relief Web
By Gita Modgil, Canadian Red Cross, in Banda Aceh, Indonesia
Yanti walks towards her house in the Walubi temporary living centre where she has been staying with surviving members of her family since the 2004 tsunami destroyed her home.
Along the way, she meets her neighbour’s daughter, Putri, who is washing her hands. “Are you using soap?” asks Yanti.
Putri smiles, says a big “yes” and runs off to play with her friends.
Yanti is part of a new group of community-based outreach workers, who are leading efforts by the Canadian Red Cross to bring hygiene care and sanitation promotion to communities across Aceh.
“I encourage them to wash their hands with soap after latrine use. When preserving cooked food, always cover it with a lid. They listen to me carefully and try to follow the instructions. It’s the first time they’re hearing these messages,” says Yanti.
Around 114 community health volunteers have already been provided with Participatory Hygiene and Sanitation Transformation (PHAST) training by the Canadian Red Cross. PHAST training uses innovative approaches and tools to promote hygiene, sanitation and community management of water and sanitation facilities.
“The underlying basis for the PHAST approach is that no lasting change in people’s behaviour will occur without understanding and believing, and this requires culturally sensitive and appropriate health education. The training method employed by Canadian Red Cross uses tools that are very participatory and visual, like community story telling,” says Meiry Nasution, a hygiene promotion coordinator for Canadian Red Cross.
Canadian Red Cross is combining the PHAST training with much-needed sanitation facilities for over 16,000 people spread across 12 temporary living centres in Aceh. These include the construction of bathing and washing areas, latrines with improved safety features for female users (such as lights, locks, and garbage bins for disposal of sanitary products), septic tanks, as well as providing cleaning materials.
“After the tsunami there was an increase in stomach aches and diarrhea but even before the tsunami we used to suffer from scabies and other skin diseases. But the interventions carried out by agencies like Canadian Red Cross have assisted us in reducing that. Because of the PHAST training I know that my children would get these skin diseases because they would go to the bathroom in front of our house and then play near that area,” says Dahaiyar who recently received PHAST training.
Yanti, her friend Mala, and the other community health workers in Walubi bring together the whole community on one day each month to clean the temporary living centre. Yanti puts together a list of responsibilities for each member during the community service day known locally as ‘Gotong Royong’.
“I like to see the barrack clean. Even though we don’t get a salary, we do it for our community. The training gave me the knowledge I needed to make my community better and safer,” says Mala.
“The volunteer community health workers are the lynchpin of our efforts to bring quality health care to people and to change their health and hygiene habits. The tsunami has given us a window to raise the bar in the areas of hygiene and sanitation,” says Natalie Jette, the water and sanitation delegate for Canadian Red Cross in Aceh.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Yes Virginia, shopping really does cure all ills.
Singapore was fantabulous, even if my hall pass from Banda Aceh was to cure the bronchitis I couldn’t shake for a month. The only reason the dr. in Singapore thinks I didn’t get rid of the bronchitis is because my inflammation wasn’t being treated. The antibiotics were fine. So, even if the bacteria had been slayed, my lungs were quite the holiday retreat for new ones wanting to breed.
So, no magic potion in Singapore, just the right concoctions of meds to cure all my aches and pains. Also nice to have meds with the little sheet of paper in it telling you all about the drug. And in English to boot. Tired of logging on to the Internet just to find that the medicine I’ve been given is not allowed in the United States, is really intended for veterinary animals, or the Web site is all in German.
I can see now why these ‘wellness holidays’ are so popular in the US and Europe. You know the ones; you need a triple bypass, but US insurance is so ridiculous that you book a flight to Singapore, Bangkok or India for your surgery and a little spa and shopping while you recover.
My wonderful hospital was RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET from an amazing shopping mall. I made sure I had enough time to window shop before my appointment. I’m certain I didn’t look to out of place with my little Coach bag in one hand and X Ray films in the other drooling at Marks & Spencer.
Not enough time to do any damage to the Visa, but I did make it to my doctor’s office in time. I was only one of about three Caucasian people in the entire medical facility, and also probably one of two above the height of 5’2”.
After more hours of testing, breathing into various contraptions, more X Rays and the like, I was released. He wanted me to stick around for a few days, but silly me, I wanted to get home to the kiddies.
The X Ray alone was worth flying to Singapore. When I first showed the doctor the X ray from Banda, he just said politely, “not the best quality I’ve seen.” He showed me the old Banda X ray and the new Singapore X ray side by side to show me that my lungs were good (a.k.a no permanent damage from a month of inflamed tissue). Wow! While it looked like whoever took the Banda X ray had an astigmatism, I felt like I was taking some virtual reality tour of my lungs when looking at the Singapore X ray. It was like I was swimming among the bronchioles. And all for about $30 US.
Anyway, back at the hotel room, eating a late lunch so I could take a handful of pills, I started negotiations with SOS for my flight back. I settled into bed that night thinking I would be leaving Monday morning (giving me a day to relax in Singapore. Visions of a massage and many heavy shopping bags danced in my head.) Then the phone rings and my case worker tells me brightly, “Alright then! You’re all set! The driver will be at your hotel in the morning to pick you up at 6!”
WHAT! So close to a shopping mall and yet so far,… I begrudgingly turned on the light, and started repacking, feeling sorry for myself. Couldn’t get back to sleep, so turned on the telly and watched some Disney romantic teen movie that was actually quite cute and worth watching because I’d never get away with it at home. Why? Because my four boys (yes, Rob is included in this mix) would rule there was:
Too much kissing
No talking animals
Nothing getting blown up.
Then, I started having the world’s worst foot cramps. Both feet, my muscles contracted so much you could see them moving in my shins. I couldn’t walk, much less move. I sat in the bed wondering how long I should let this go on before I call the hospital to come get me. Thinking maybe I was having a strange reaction having washed down steroids, antibiotics and other stuff with some sushi and a Tiger beer. Then I thought, nah, life can’t be that cruel. After an hour they subsided and I got a few hours sleep.
Next morning, I dash like a mad woman through duty free shops picking up presents for everyone. Toys for the boys, more books for drama king, scotch for Rob. They actually have a scotch taste testing thing going on – at six in the morning! Really can’t think of anything more disgusting, quite frankly. No thanks on that one. Give me a Starbucks any time.
Then, I land in Medan, one stop from Banda. Still in partial paradise. I have ALL DAY to waste until my flight that late afternoon, so I find a taxi to take me to the shopping mall. (Really, what else did you expect?)
I get there at 9am. It’s Sunday, so nothing opens until 11am. Including Starbucks. I walk every inch of that un airconditioned, dark mall. I get excited about a Thai restaurant on the third floor. Bummed out when throughout the day I keep checking back and they have no customers. Have learned not to eat in restaurants that have no patrons after New Orleans experience. (Went to restaurant where first I cut into chicken to find it is still raw. Send back. Get chicken back. Go to take bite of rice and find a little baby cockroach on my fork. Gives new meaning to the term ‘dirty rice.’)
At the end of my day find dumbbells in supermarket (called Hypermarkets here because like Walmart, they sell everything), and heft 20 pounds of sand in plastic, computer and large purse through airport. Try not to kill anyone by dumb bells rolling around in overhead bin on airplane.
Find nice American family with a little blond baby about Sabrina’s age and attack them! Can’t take my hand off that baby’s head. Happy to be going home, even without my Singapore shopping experience.
So, no magic potion in Singapore, just the right concoctions of meds to cure all my aches and pains. Also nice to have meds with the little sheet of paper in it telling you all about the drug. And in English to boot. Tired of logging on to the Internet just to find that the medicine I’ve been given is not allowed in the United States, is really intended for veterinary animals, or the Web site is all in German.
I can see now why these ‘wellness holidays’ are so popular in the US and Europe. You know the ones; you need a triple bypass, but US insurance is so ridiculous that you book a flight to Singapore, Bangkok or India for your surgery and a little spa and shopping while you recover.
My wonderful hospital was RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET from an amazing shopping mall. I made sure I had enough time to window shop before my appointment. I’m certain I didn’t look to out of place with my little Coach bag in one hand and X Ray films in the other drooling at Marks & Spencer.
Not enough time to do any damage to the Visa, but I did make it to my doctor’s office in time. I was only one of about three Caucasian people in the entire medical facility, and also probably one of two above the height of 5’2”.
After more hours of testing, breathing into various contraptions, more X Rays and the like, I was released. He wanted me to stick around for a few days, but silly me, I wanted to get home to the kiddies.
The X Ray alone was worth flying to Singapore. When I first showed the doctor the X ray from Banda, he just said politely, “not the best quality I’ve seen.” He showed me the old Banda X ray and the new Singapore X ray side by side to show me that my lungs were good (a.k.a no permanent damage from a month of inflamed tissue). Wow! While it looked like whoever took the Banda X ray had an astigmatism, I felt like I was taking some virtual reality tour of my lungs when looking at the Singapore X ray. It was like I was swimming among the bronchioles. And all for about $30 US.
Anyway, back at the hotel room, eating a late lunch so I could take a handful of pills, I started negotiations with SOS for my flight back. I settled into bed that night thinking I would be leaving Monday morning (giving me a day to relax in Singapore. Visions of a massage and many heavy shopping bags danced in my head.) Then the phone rings and my case worker tells me brightly, “Alright then! You’re all set! The driver will be at your hotel in the morning to pick you up at 6!”
WHAT! So close to a shopping mall and yet so far,… I begrudgingly turned on the light, and started repacking, feeling sorry for myself. Couldn’t get back to sleep, so turned on the telly and watched some Disney romantic teen movie that was actually quite cute and worth watching because I’d never get away with it at home. Why? Because my four boys (yes, Rob is included in this mix) would rule there was:
Too much kissing
No talking animals
Nothing getting blown up.
Then, I started having the world’s worst foot cramps. Both feet, my muscles contracted so much you could see them moving in my shins. I couldn’t walk, much less move. I sat in the bed wondering how long I should let this go on before I call the hospital to come get me. Thinking maybe I was having a strange reaction having washed down steroids, antibiotics and other stuff with some sushi and a Tiger beer. Then I thought, nah, life can’t be that cruel. After an hour they subsided and I got a few hours sleep.
Next morning, I dash like a mad woman through duty free shops picking up presents for everyone. Toys for the boys, more books for drama king, scotch for Rob. They actually have a scotch taste testing thing going on – at six in the morning! Really can’t think of anything more disgusting, quite frankly. No thanks on that one. Give me a Starbucks any time.
Then, I land in Medan, one stop from Banda. Still in partial paradise. I have ALL DAY to waste until my flight that late afternoon, so I find a taxi to take me to the shopping mall. (Really, what else did you expect?)
I get there at 9am. It’s Sunday, so nothing opens until 11am. Including Starbucks. I walk every inch of that un airconditioned, dark mall. I get excited about a Thai restaurant on the third floor. Bummed out when throughout the day I keep checking back and they have no customers. Have learned not to eat in restaurants that have no patrons after New Orleans experience. (Went to restaurant where first I cut into chicken to find it is still raw. Send back. Get chicken back. Go to take bite of rice and find a little baby cockroach on my fork. Gives new meaning to the term ‘dirty rice.’)
At the end of my day find dumbbells in supermarket (called Hypermarkets here because like Walmart, they sell everything), and heft 20 pounds of sand in plastic, computer and large purse through airport. Try not to kill anyone by dumb bells rolling around in overhead bin on airplane.
Find nice American family with a little blond baby about Sabrina’s age and attack them! Can’t take my hand off that baby’s head. Happy to be going home, even without my Singapore shopping experience.
Monday, April 09, 2007
More Health Issues in Heaven on Earth
Okay Joel, this one’s for you!
And thanks very, very much to everyone who takes the time to read my dribble. I’m glad I am sharing this crazy experience with you. If only I could get smell-o-vision for the Internet. I’m sure there is someone at ESRI who can figure that out, right? Topographic information, temporal information, and now, how things smell,..(rhinographic information? Hola!) Anyway. I digress.
And thanks to Teri’s friend who wrote to me – I can’t respond directly because Blogspot keeps the information on who sends messages (But I KNOW WHO YOU ARE,.. Jim). Thanks for making my day!
Yes, I know I need to update more frequently, especially since I keep forgetting my password to edit this site. That is a sure sign I’ve been a big slacker in the ol’ keeping things current department.
Ah yes, spring. Or if you are an expat living in Indonesia, dry season. The mosquitoes seem to have gone away for the most part. The murky swamps that had overtaken empty fields between houses have evaporated leaving mounds of garbage and vast spaces for fort building by dirty little blond California boys (mine.)
Our efforts to become healthy keep getting undermined. I spent the last month attempting to get rid of a nasty bout of bronchitis that finally resulted in a plane ride to Singapore to get fixed. The lengths I will go to for a little shopping, eh?
We are very fortunate to have SOS health insurance. We’ve always had them in the past, but never used them. I’ve made up for lost time, calling them at every opportunity for Dengue, Malaria, eye infection and now this. If I weren’t living in Banda, I’m sure they would think I had some sort of Munchausen syndrome.
I did find it curious that we had to argue with the doctors about evacuating kids – they were ready to send the Lear jet down the minute I mentioned Jared’s eye was red when I called on the last round of “Guess who in the Richardson family has an infectious disease!” – but when I called about sounding like a gas furnace every time I breathed – for an entire month - and many prescriptions of antibiotics not working, all I got was a ‘Drink lots of water!’. Hmm,.. I know I’m not a nubile little kid. I realize I am a woman of a certain age. I do however think I have some worth to my family and they might want to see me fixed up. Instead, I felt like the British doctor on the other end was ticking off the box entitled ‘Send to glue factory.’
I tried getting fixed on my own. I started seeing various doctors; the first at a clinic next to our house. I took Rob’s engineering department translator to ‘run interference’ for me. Since I also brought a couple kids with me (foot fungus and coughing troubles, might as well get my money’s worth) we of course had the usual small crowd of looky-loos in the examining room. The male doctor apologized profusely for having to touch me but did the examination anyway.
As we were driving home, the translator asked me, “Do you feel like throwing up after you cough like that?” I answered yes. She agreed saying, “I remember right after the tsunami crying for hours and that made me want to throw up, too.”
Okay, WHOA! Not the same thing. I have a bit of a cough. Here is this amazing, resilient woman trying to draw a point of commonality between us. She is describing so matter-of-factly being in her family house on the second floor when the wave hits. Watching her mother and sister loose their hold and get washed away.
What do you say to this?
What do you say in your broken pig Indonesian when you are hanging out in the kitchen and your ‘janitor’ tells you about loosing her six year old child in the wave? She is so thankful that her family (one more boy who is 14 and a husband) were the recipients of a house from another NGO in the area. She is not angry and tells me how much she loves working at my house because of the kids. Oh, and she wants CRS to build her house now because CRS houses are big and her house is so small it doesn’t have a kitchen. (She’s bringing a letter to request Rob rebuild her house.)
What do you say when the man who is installing your new bathroom sink matter of factly lets you know his wife died in the tsunami?
My second doctor here in Banda was a lung specialist who spoke wonderful English. The translator took me to the clinic where the receptionist wrote my name down on a list, gave me a registration card that cost 6000 rupia (80 cents) and told me to come back that evening. I came to the clinic myself (Rob, serving as my driver that evening was charged with dropping off my work computer at the local computer store; it too had a bug).
The only expat in a sea of hundreds of Indonesians; I was terrified. It’ll take forever, I thought. I’ll actually finish this new Michael Crichton book I had to black market a kidney to afford at the Jakarta airport.
I found my room down a dark, dirty hallway full of people. Paint peeling off walls. Trash pushed aside next to the walls. Concrete floors and walls. Lo and behold, the man sitting at a little wooden desk outside the doctor’s office actually had my name on his list. He gestured for me to take a seat on a wooden bench in the hallway and wait my turn. I tried reading between little kids sneaking over and staring. I’d look up, smile and they’d run shrieking away. I know the haircut I got in Bali wasn’t the best, but really,.. (My friend, who we will call Michelle because that is her name, told me “You may be past the age where you can pull off bangs.” Ah, the French; so honest.)
Within minutes I was being seen. One of the first things this doctor said to me was ‘thank you.’ Thanks for coming to Indonesia and helping Aceh get back on its feet after the tsunami. It was so nice of him. Embarrassing, actually.
Then he evened out my karma by sending me on a scary adventure to have my lungs X Rayed in Banda Aceh at night.
He instructed me to go to the General Hospital and give them a little piece of paper in an envelope. I thought for sure Rob knew where the General Hospital was. He didn’t. First on the call list was my friend who happens to be the director of another NGO. He basically gave me a talking to for not opening a case file with SOS (I subsequently did) and refused to tell me where the hospital was because he wasn’t certain it would be safe. Next person on the call list was a local engineer from Rob’s work.
We found the hospital. Not easy; they aren’t as obvious here. Not many lights, not a lot of activity.
Walked in to the front area which happened to be the emergency room. People on gurneys crane their necks to look at us. Man in a white shirt says he’ll take us to radiology. He speaks English, has on a white shirt (white is an official hospital color, right?) We follow him. He leads us to an open hallway with mosquitoes, murky lighting and more peeling paint. He says a few Indonesian words to some people who seem very busy and tells us to wait. He disappears.
I’m beginning to feel like I am in all the horror movies I have ever seen. Hanging out in a run down hospital with people you can’t communicate with. I’m afraid I’m going in for an X Ray and coming out without an appendix.
It reminded me of getting my face X Rayed in Cairo (sinus infection there. Beginning to think I shouldn’t be living in these types of places.) While they had me draped in a lead apron about six feet away from me in the same room were a bunch of workers doing remodeling. And smoking.
All of sudden, the busy people started to lock up. Rob grabbed the last of them; a man with a plaid shirt who had a handful of keys. He tells him our plight. The man gestures for us to follow him. We start the trek back to the front of the hospital. Then, the man starts to walk across the parking lot,.. Away from the hospital
At this point I grabbed Rob arm and told him, “On Oprah they say if you are ever abducted never to leave the area where you were first captured.”
Rob gives me a weird look, but asks the man to stop and explains again that we need an X Ray. The man chuckles, nods and gestures for us to follow him across four lanes of traffic. No wait, this is Indonesia. No one actually travels in a nice queue,.. there are about seven lines of traffic including one for chickens and goats.
Rob tells me, “It’s okay. He’s got keys. He’s official.”
We play real life frogger and come to another little store front where there is a bevy of human activity and a big X Ray machine. I pay my money and wait my turn, striking up a conversation with a nice gentleman from the States who had some little chest pains and came to this X Ray toko to ‘have it checked out.’ I’m seeing white noise again. I want to dig in my purse and thrust all my rupia at him screaming, “Get out! This is your HEART we are talking about for God’s sake!”
I get my X Ray and the man in the plaid shirt with the keys turns out to be a radiologist who takes a look at the film and determines allergies are my problem. Very helpful. (Not)
By the time I’ve been through three more doctors in about two weeks and find myself in a lab trying to hack mucus up into a little cup in front of EVERYONE in the waiting room (I am FEMALE. I do NOT do those things. I also can’t burp the ABCs like the four men in my immediate family and I am proud of this.) I decide “UNCLE!” I sit in the truck and call SOS on the handphone and tell them I can’t continue like this anymore. I am sick of feeling like a martyr not caring if I live or die. I want to LIVE! I insist they find me a real doctor. They oblige and start the wheels turning to ship me to Singapore.
Which, as Paul Harvey used to say, is the “rest of the story.”
And thanks very, very much to everyone who takes the time to read my dribble. I’m glad I am sharing this crazy experience with you. If only I could get smell-o-vision for the Internet. I’m sure there is someone at ESRI who can figure that out, right? Topographic information, temporal information, and now, how things smell,..(rhinographic information? Hola!) Anyway. I digress.
And thanks to Teri’s friend who wrote to me – I can’t respond directly because Blogspot keeps the information on who sends messages (But I KNOW WHO YOU ARE,.. Jim). Thanks for making my day!
Yes, I know I need to update more frequently, especially since I keep forgetting my password to edit this site. That is a sure sign I’ve been a big slacker in the ol’ keeping things current department.
Ah yes, spring. Or if you are an expat living in Indonesia, dry season. The mosquitoes seem to have gone away for the most part. The murky swamps that had overtaken empty fields between houses have evaporated leaving mounds of garbage and vast spaces for fort building by dirty little blond California boys (mine.)
Our efforts to become healthy keep getting undermined. I spent the last month attempting to get rid of a nasty bout of bronchitis that finally resulted in a plane ride to Singapore to get fixed. The lengths I will go to for a little shopping, eh?
We are very fortunate to have SOS health insurance. We’ve always had them in the past, but never used them. I’ve made up for lost time, calling them at every opportunity for Dengue, Malaria, eye infection and now this. If I weren’t living in Banda, I’m sure they would think I had some sort of Munchausen syndrome.
I did find it curious that we had to argue with the doctors about evacuating kids – they were ready to send the Lear jet down the minute I mentioned Jared’s eye was red when I called on the last round of “Guess who in the Richardson family has an infectious disease!” – but when I called about sounding like a gas furnace every time I breathed – for an entire month - and many prescriptions of antibiotics not working, all I got was a ‘Drink lots of water!’. Hmm,.. I know I’m not a nubile little kid. I realize I am a woman of a certain age. I do however think I have some worth to my family and they might want to see me fixed up. Instead, I felt like the British doctor on the other end was ticking off the box entitled ‘Send to glue factory.’
I tried getting fixed on my own. I started seeing various doctors; the first at a clinic next to our house. I took Rob’s engineering department translator to ‘run interference’ for me. Since I also brought a couple kids with me (foot fungus and coughing troubles, might as well get my money’s worth) we of course had the usual small crowd of looky-loos in the examining room. The male doctor apologized profusely for having to touch me but did the examination anyway.
As we were driving home, the translator asked me, “Do you feel like throwing up after you cough like that?” I answered yes. She agreed saying, “I remember right after the tsunami crying for hours and that made me want to throw up, too.”
Okay, WHOA! Not the same thing. I have a bit of a cough. Here is this amazing, resilient woman trying to draw a point of commonality between us. She is describing so matter-of-factly being in her family house on the second floor when the wave hits. Watching her mother and sister loose their hold and get washed away.
What do you say to this?
What do you say in your broken pig Indonesian when you are hanging out in the kitchen and your ‘janitor’ tells you about loosing her six year old child in the wave? She is so thankful that her family (one more boy who is 14 and a husband) were the recipients of a house from another NGO in the area. She is not angry and tells me how much she loves working at my house because of the kids. Oh, and she wants CRS to build her house now because CRS houses are big and her house is so small it doesn’t have a kitchen. (She’s bringing a letter to request Rob rebuild her house.)
What do you say when the man who is installing your new bathroom sink matter of factly lets you know his wife died in the tsunami?
My second doctor here in Banda was a lung specialist who spoke wonderful English. The translator took me to the clinic where the receptionist wrote my name down on a list, gave me a registration card that cost 6000 rupia (80 cents) and told me to come back that evening. I came to the clinic myself (Rob, serving as my driver that evening was charged with dropping off my work computer at the local computer store; it too had a bug).
The only expat in a sea of hundreds of Indonesians; I was terrified. It’ll take forever, I thought. I’ll actually finish this new Michael Crichton book I had to black market a kidney to afford at the Jakarta airport.
I found my room down a dark, dirty hallway full of people. Paint peeling off walls. Trash pushed aside next to the walls. Concrete floors and walls. Lo and behold, the man sitting at a little wooden desk outside the doctor’s office actually had my name on his list. He gestured for me to take a seat on a wooden bench in the hallway and wait my turn. I tried reading between little kids sneaking over and staring. I’d look up, smile and they’d run shrieking away. I know the haircut I got in Bali wasn’t the best, but really,.. (My friend, who we will call Michelle because that is her name, told me “You may be past the age where you can pull off bangs.” Ah, the French; so honest.)
Within minutes I was being seen. One of the first things this doctor said to me was ‘thank you.’ Thanks for coming to Indonesia and helping Aceh get back on its feet after the tsunami. It was so nice of him. Embarrassing, actually.
Then he evened out my karma by sending me on a scary adventure to have my lungs X Rayed in Banda Aceh at night.
He instructed me to go to the General Hospital and give them a little piece of paper in an envelope. I thought for sure Rob knew where the General Hospital was. He didn’t. First on the call list was my friend who happens to be the director of another NGO. He basically gave me a talking to for not opening a case file with SOS (I subsequently did) and refused to tell me where the hospital was because he wasn’t certain it would be safe. Next person on the call list was a local engineer from Rob’s work.
We found the hospital. Not easy; they aren’t as obvious here. Not many lights, not a lot of activity.
Walked in to the front area which happened to be the emergency room. People on gurneys crane their necks to look at us. Man in a white shirt says he’ll take us to radiology. He speaks English, has on a white shirt (white is an official hospital color, right?) We follow him. He leads us to an open hallway with mosquitoes, murky lighting and more peeling paint. He says a few Indonesian words to some people who seem very busy and tells us to wait. He disappears.
I’m beginning to feel like I am in all the horror movies I have ever seen. Hanging out in a run down hospital with people you can’t communicate with. I’m afraid I’m going in for an X Ray and coming out without an appendix.
It reminded me of getting my face X Rayed in Cairo (sinus infection there. Beginning to think I shouldn’t be living in these types of places.) While they had me draped in a lead apron about six feet away from me in the same room were a bunch of workers doing remodeling. And smoking.
All of sudden, the busy people started to lock up. Rob grabbed the last of them; a man with a plaid shirt who had a handful of keys. He tells him our plight. The man gestures for us to follow him. We start the trek back to the front of the hospital. Then, the man starts to walk across the parking lot,.. Away from the hospital
At this point I grabbed Rob arm and told him, “On Oprah they say if you are ever abducted never to leave the area where you were first captured.”
Rob gives me a weird look, but asks the man to stop and explains again that we need an X Ray. The man chuckles, nods and gestures for us to follow him across four lanes of traffic. No wait, this is Indonesia. No one actually travels in a nice queue,.. there are about seven lines of traffic including one for chickens and goats.
Rob tells me, “It’s okay. He’s got keys. He’s official.”
We play real life frogger and come to another little store front where there is a bevy of human activity and a big X Ray machine. I pay my money and wait my turn, striking up a conversation with a nice gentleman from the States who had some little chest pains and came to this X Ray toko to ‘have it checked out.’ I’m seeing white noise again. I want to dig in my purse and thrust all my rupia at him screaming, “Get out! This is your HEART we are talking about for God’s sake!”
I get my X Ray and the man in the plaid shirt with the keys turns out to be a radiologist who takes a look at the film and determines allergies are my problem. Very helpful. (Not)
By the time I’ve been through three more doctors in about two weeks and find myself in a lab trying to hack mucus up into a little cup in front of EVERYONE in the waiting room (I am FEMALE. I do NOT do those things. I also can’t burp the ABCs like the four men in my immediate family and I am proud of this.) I decide “UNCLE!” I sit in the truck and call SOS on the handphone and tell them I can’t continue like this anymore. I am sick of feeling like a martyr not caring if I live or die. I want to LIVE! I insist they find me a real doctor. They oblige and start the wheels turning to ship me to Singapore.
Which, as Paul Harvey used to say, is the “rest of the story.”
Saturday, April 07, 2007
It's A Jungle Out There
Lest we forget, we are in the middle of the Sumatran jungle, now all I need is a good story about an Orangutan.
This is all from a local Aceh newspaper, translated into English from local staff, which if you don't find the articles humorous, you may at least get a chuckle from that.
Maybe this is why my copy for work has been lacking in the grammar department; I'm starting to speak modulated English,...
The elephants problems are reducing; Tigers turned to madness Jeuram - The actions of tigers in several villages in Sub-district of Seunagan, Nagan Raya are getting mad. The Chief of Pante ceureumen village, Sub-district of Seunagan, Nagan Raya, Alfiansyah said that for the last few weeks, the actions of tigers in this area have created the restlessness in the society. "Many villagers' livestocks were eaten by those tigers. We hope to the authorities to handle this matter," he said. Meanwhile, reportedly, wild elephant actions that has create the uncomfortablity among villagers in Bukit Jaya, Aceh Barat had been calmed down after a team from Natural Resources Conservation Agency (BKSDA) Aceh succeed to catch a male elephant. Since a year, the elephant caught by BKSDA team always disturbed villagers. Besides destroying villagers' farm, this elephant also destroyed dozens housed in this village. Apart from an elephant caught by BKSDA, there are still some elephants that have not yet been caught.
Locals caught a python Sigli - Villagers of kampong Panjau, Sub-district of Kembang Tanjung, Aceh Pidie found a python in a duck's cage. Locals who were sitting in a security post heard noise from chicken near the post on Sat (31/3) midnight. Then, they came to where the noise came from and they saw a python was eating chicken and locals immediately caught that snake. T Wahyudin, a local, said that this python has eaten four goats owned by locals. "This snake also has eaten locals' ducks and chickens. We predict this snake has its female pair, but unfortunately, its pair has been escaped," said Wahyuddin.
This is all from a local Aceh newspaper, translated into English from local staff, which if you don't find the articles humorous, you may at least get a chuckle from that.
Maybe this is why my copy for work has been lacking in the grammar department; I'm starting to speak modulated English,...
The elephants problems are reducing; Tigers turned to madness Jeuram - The actions of tigers in several villages in Sub-district of Seunagan, Nagan Raya are getting mad. The Chief of Pante ceureumen village, Sub-district of Seunagan, Nagan Raya, Alfiansyah said that for the last few weeks, the actions of tigers in this area have created the restlessness in the society. "Many villagers' livestocks were eaten by those tigers. We hope to the authorities to handle this matter," he said. Meanwhile, reportedly, wild elephant actions that has create the uncomfortablity among villagers in Bukit Jaya, Aceh Barat had been calmed down after a team from Natural Resources Conservation Agency (BKSDA) Aceh succeed to catch a male elephant. Since a year, the elephant caught by BKSDA team always disturbed villagers. Besides destroying villagers' farm, this elephant also destroyed dozens housed in this village. Apart from an elephant caught by BKSDA, there are still some elephants that have not yet been caught.
Locals caught a python Sigli - Villagers of kampong Panjau, Sub-district of Kembang Tanjung, Aceh Pidie found a python in a duck's cage. Locals who were sitting in a security post heard noise from chicken near the post on Sat (31/3) midnight. Then, they came to where the noise came from and they saw a python was eating chicken and locals immediately caught that snake. T Wahyudin, a local, said that this python has eaten four goats owned by locals. "This snake also has eaten locals' ducks and chickens. We predict this snake has its female pair, but unfortunately, its pair has been escaped," said Wahyuddin.
Friday, April 06, 2007
FORAK 2 - It ain't Woodstock
Last year, a FORAK demonstration at BRR (the local Indonesian government branch responsible for the reconstruction here in Aceh) took place over a two week period in September. With up to 2000 demonstrators, a riot broke out and the FORAK leader was arrested and thrown in jail. He is now out on the streets and will undertake another ‘notified’ demonstration this Monday. That means we’ll be battening down the hatches and not visiting the area near BRR. To give you a little of the drama from last year, here is a news article taken from AcehKita.com, (I'd provide the link, but it's all in bahasa Indonesian) September 20, 2006: (Thanks to Salmasteier for actually researching this information; I am doing nothing more than transferring data)
Banda Aceh, about a thousand of people who confessed themselves as tsunami victims last night (19/6) moved into Lueng Bata area. Last night, they even took Kuntoro as ‘hostage’. According to our reporter on the site the riot started when the protesters were forced to pull back by the police from the BRR compound. ‘Intifadha war’ then broke out. Police personnel chased the protesters. The Police were supported by their tactical vehicles equipped with water canon which were was used on the protesters. The Protesters blockaded the road of BRR with rocks and wood logs. People around the area then shut their shops and kiosks as they worried the protester might unload their anger. One car that was parked inside the compound was damaged. Roads were blocked by the police and the mass of people flooded in front of BRR’s office, they included women, children, and teenagers. Information received by Aceh Kita mentioned that it was organized by the Forak, Inter-Barrack Communication Forum, they tried to not allow Kuntoro to go home until their demands were fulfilled. M Yusuf the coordinator of the action said that in principal Forak’s demands were fulfilled by BRR such as: speed-up building houses, economy recovery. The Protesters also wanted the Forak coordinator to be part of BRR plus a financial incentive. According to Yusuf, the letter was signed by Kuntoro, however, they were not satisfied because they want the letter to be signed by both parties. “But BRR are disagree with it and still don’t see any middle way,” he said. “We are still want the letter to be signed by both parties, if its not happening, the crowd will stay and it is possible for mass will get larger” he said.
Banda Aceh, Director of Forak, Dr Raden Panji Utomo, main suspect of the organizer of rioting in BRR Office on Wednesday (19/9) has been reported as being in contact with police through the Chief of Banda Aceh Police mobile phone. In their conversation, Panji asks more time to prepare lawyer, and then hand over himself to police. “He has contacted me through my mobile, he will hand himself to police after he gets a lawyer,” Chief said. Meanwhile, six from eight people whose names are mentioned in the police’s letter has gone to police office for interrogation, as they were involved in the demonstration. Murniati, Darmawan, John Efendi, Pasmi Ilma, M Isa, and M Yusuf. “We’ve been called as the witnesses in that action,” M Yusuf said. However, there were seven supposed to be here, “one letter addressed to Irwandi we have no one named Irwandi but Irwan Jalil. But we don’t know which one is meant by them,” he said. Meanwhile, Chief Police of Banda Aceh, Zulkarnaen said that his side has questioned five people from Forak plus one from BRR. He explained that these people were questioned, as they knew what happened during the riot on the demonstration organized by Forak. Regarding Panji’s request to give time to prepare lawyer, Zulkarnaen told that police would do it based on the procedures. “He is not to be afraid to hand himself over to the police. The police are not going to do anything that people might feel worried about. The main thing is he needs to be responsible for his actions,” he said.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Keep the faith close, no closer, no closer still,...
There is a lot of tension in Aceh after 30 years of being closed off from the world. Many Acehnese are concerned about non Muslims coming into the area and evangelizing. In some instances it has been warranted, one faith-based NGO was kicked out of the area for distributing leaflets. (This happened before we came here). Maybe not such a bad thing; (I’ve contributed to this particular organization in the past), but they were specifically told that while the aid is welcome, the Amens, so to speak, are not.
It has gotten so bad that there are news stories about villagers finding ‘cross-shapes’ on candy and requesting that the distributors of these candies take them back. A bunch of fake Korans were found and confiscated, fearing that some Christian-based foreign group was trying to teach falsehoods. A group of tweeners pillaged their middle school when they found references to Christianity in their history books and requested that these Indonesian, printed in Jakarta (where there happen to be quite a few Christians) books be returned. (I guess history is in the eye of the beholder,..?)
As part of a faith-based organization, we are particularly sensitive to this. CRS, however, does firmly believe that there should be no strings attached to the aid and money that it generously donates. There is no weird flicking of the holy water or slipping a crucifix in the pocket that some might think happens at this Catholic organization.
Some actions CRS takes might be a little too much on the politically correct side (for me), such as CRS not distributing its annual calendar in the office, as it contains a biblical saying and might offend some workers.
Another NGO in the area (not faith based, just not-for-profit) had to put the kibosh on Christmas music being played at worker’s desks because it upset the non Christians.
CRS was also very careful to only put the chairman of the organization (a lay person) on the faceplate for the downtown park, fearing that the religious title of the actual director would be offensive.
So, in light of all this paranoia, this new problem really isn’t such a shocker. It seems that the chairwoman of a local kindergarten called CRS very upset because the design on the top gable of her school building looks like a cross in this year’s school picture. While this is only a gable and is the same color and material as the rest of the wall, the light catches this structure, and, since you know, the CRS name contains ‘Catholic’ and the money used to rebuild the school is from Catholic people, many parents have interpreted that CRS has started to evangelize. To minimize the situation, CRS is immediately helping get pictures back from the students’ families and put a piece of plywood over the gable.
This after the new mayor of the city of Banda complained that the roof of the park’s main building was too pitched, apparently similar to certain other architectural buildings, like, you know, churches. Forget the fact that Acehnese architecture very frequently has steep pitched roofs with gorgeous carved wood.
Well, what do you expect from an area where an ex-GAM member was imprisoned, was able to escaped from his cell after the tsunami and became the province’s new governor?
It has gotten so bad that there are news stories about villagers finding ‘cross-shapes’ on candy and requesting that the distributors of these candies take them back. A bunch of fake Korans were found and confiscated, fearing that some Christian-based foreign group was trying to teach falsehoods. A group of tweeners pillaged their middle school when they found references to Christianity in their history books and requested that these Indonesian, printed in Jakarta (where there happen to be quite a few Christians) books be returned. (I guess history is in the eye of the beholder,..?)
As part of a faith-based organization, we are particularly sensitive to this. CRS, however, does firmly believe that there should be no strings attached to the aid and money that it generously donates. There is no weird flicking of the holy water or slipping a crucifix in the pocket that some might think happens at this Catholic organization.
Some actions CRS takes might be a little too much on the politically correct side (for me), such as CRS not distributing its annual calendar in the office, as it contains a biblical saying and might offend some workers.
Another NGO in the area (not faith based, just not-for-profit) had to put the kibosh on Christmas music being played at worker’s desks because it upset the non Christians.
CRS was also very careful to only put the chairman of the organization (a lay person) on the faceplate for the downtown park, fearing that the religious title of the actual director would be offensive.
So, in light of all this paranoia, this new problem really isn’t such a shocker. It seems that the chairwoman of a local kindergarten called CRS very upset because the design on the top gable of her school building looks like a cross in this year’s school picture. While this is only a gable and is the same color and material as the rest of the wall, the light catches this structure, and, since you know, the CRS name contains ‘Catholic’ and the money used to rebuild the school is from Catholic people, many parents have interpreted that CRS has started to evangelize. To minimize the situation, CRS is immediately helping get pictures back from the students’ families and put a piece of plywood over the gable.
This after the new mayor of the city of Banda complained that the roof of the park’s main building was too pitched, apparently similar to certain other architectural buildings, like, you know, churches. Forget the fact that Acehnese architecture very frequently has steep pitched roofs with gorgeous carved wood.
Well, what do you expect from an area where an ex-GAM member was imprisoned, was able to escaped from his cell after the tsunami and became the province’s new governor?
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