Better to Give

This Saturday, I will turn a quarter of a century: Half-way around the world, and half-way to fifty. I can only hope that my next 25 years will be filled with as many wonderful people and memorable experiences as my first have been. Even more, I hope that as much as others have poured into my life of love, kindness, and generosity, I will be able to give back to others.

While many Americans expect to be treated on their birthdays (to dinner, cake, a free drink from Starbucks, etc.), here in Indonesia the one with the birthday is expected to treat everyone else. Most adults are quite low-key about their birthdays here, but it is common for people to share a cake or a meal with their friends and coworkers. Throughout the past year, I have seen teachers bring in cakes, hand out lunches wrapped in banana leaves, or call the bakso man to share the joy of their special days.

In fact, this tradition goes beyond birthdays. “Syukuran” means to give thanks, and this kind of thanksgiving can be done for birthdays, special occasions, and important accomplishments. It is a way to celebrate and share your good fortune with others. Who wouldn’t want a celebratory bowl of bakso when a co-worker finishes their Master’s degree?

So to share the good fortune of making it to 25 in Indonesian fashion, I ordered a cake from a family down the road – a couple weeks early in order to account for the semester break and fasting during Ramadan. What I thought was going to be a simple sheet cake came out a bit…ostentatious. But it was fun to share, and why not finish my first quarter of a century with a bang?

Cutting the cake.

I wish I could have mailed you each a slice, but in the spirit of sharing (and not breaking the law), here are my birthday wishes for you, my faithful readers. May you have many reasons to be thankful and to celebrate, and may you have the joy of sharing your good fortune with others.

Ngebel: The Lake, The Legend

Schools out for the year, and students aren’t the only ones celebrating. With our newfound freedom, the teachers from my school took a lovely day trip to Lake Ngebel in Ponorogo.

Lake Ngebel

Ngebel is a sleepy little lake-side town that caters to Indonesians looking for a get-away in nature. Fresh air, street food, and beautiful views, however, are just the rippling surface of this legendary lake.

Teachers relaxing by the lake.

The story of Lake Ngebel goes back to the time of kingdoms, dragons, and beings with god-like powers keeping mankind from turning into careless gluttons.

Now a place of relaxation and entertainment, this lake has a darker, legendary past.

The Legend of Lake Ngebel

A long, long time ago, a child was born. This child was the son of a great king, but he was born in the body of a dragon. Rejected by his royal family, he lived in a cave. For many long days and nights, he asked the gods to turn him back into his true human form and dreamed of life as a boy.

One day, a nearby village was having a festival to honor their gods. A group of hunters went into the forest to find food for the feast. Suddenly, a big storm came upon them and they sought shelter from the rain in the cave where the dragon was sleeping. Relieved to be dry and out of the weather, one of the hunters drove his spear into the ground for safe-keeping. But just as he was driving it down, blood started to flow from the point. A great and terrible cry filled the cave – the cry of a dragon! The men acted quickly and killed the dragon. After overcoming the shock of bunking down in a cave with a dragon, they divided up the dragon meat and triumphantly returned to the village with plenty of food for their feast.

Today you can feast on bakso meatballs, fried tempeh, coffee, tea, and ginger milk!

When the festival began, all the villagers ate, drank, and celebrated in the village center. Quietly, a small boy, clothed in ragged, dirty clothes, walked into the village center and stood among the rabble-rousers. He went from person to person asking for just a scrap of food or a drop of drink. All the villagers, too pleased with their own partying and good fortune, turned their noses up at the boy. They told him to leave them alone and stop bringing down the party.

The boy then wandered among some of the homes. Again, doors slammed in his face and villagers told him to get lost. One woman, however, didn’t.

An old grandmother saw the boy in his ragged clothes and told him to go into her home and eat the food she had set out. She told him to take seconds, and then thirds, until the boy was quite full. He thanked the grandmother and told her to be ready. “Ready with what?” she asked. “Ready with your rice-pounding mortar and your rice ladle,” he replied before marching back to the village center.

Visitors relax and enjoy the lakeside, a far different experience than the raucous party that caused the village’s demise…

All the villagers groaned when they saw that he had come back to the party. He called out to them, “I have a challenge for you, a very difficult challenge!” They were angry that he was interrupting their party again, but watched to see what he would do. The boy took a stick and drove it into the ground. “Who,” he asked, “can take this stick from the ground?”

The villagers rolled their eyes. One of them stepped forward to pull the stick from the ground, but it didn’t budge! He pulled and pulled, and nothing happened. More and more villagers tried, but even the strongest among them couldn’t move the stick an inch. They formed a great chain and tried to pull with all their strength, but still nothing happened.

Finally the villagers, angrier than ever, yelled at the boy to try it himself. The boy walked up to the stick and easily pulled it from the ground. The people were amazed, but didn’t have much time to stare in wonder. Water had started to gush from the hole where the stick had been lodged. It gushed and gushed and gushed until the center of the village was one great puddle.

As water continued to flow from the hole, the boy ran back to the old, kind grandmother’s house. “Are you ready?” he panted. “Here are my mortar and my ladle,” she said. The boy told the grandmother to climb into the mortar with him and hold onto the ladle. The water rose as they both sat in the mortar, and it began to float like a canoe. “Now paddle!” the boy cried. Using her ladle, the old woman paddled away from the village. The village center, the houses, the delicious foods and delectable drinks, and all the other villagers quickly disappeared beneath the rising waters.

The waters rose and rose…

The old grandmother turned to the boy as they paddled away. “Who are you?” she asked. “I am the son of a powerful king,” said the boy. “I was born in the body of a dragon, but when the hunters from this village met me in my cave they killed me for this festival. But just as I died, I woke in the form of a boy! The gods told me to come to this village and offer the people a test. I begged for food, but no one, except for you, would help me. The hunters didn’t even offer me a taste of the meat that they had taken from me! So now, in judgement, the village will be flooded and become a lake forever.”

And that is how Lake Ngebel came to be. Now a sleeply resort town, Ngebel is a reminder that the guest, no matter who they are, is always king.

This is my personal retelling of the story of Lake Ngebel. If you have different versions, ideas, interpretations, or thoughts please comment below!

Do you hear what I hear?

Between flocks of motorcycles, children playing, and the calls to prayer echoing from mosque to mosque, Java is full of sound. But above the constant cacophony, a beat rises across Java. Electric chords, pop ballads, techno beats, and traditional instruments blend to create something so unmistakably Indonesian: Dangdut.

Whether you’re packed into a bus as it speeds across Java, chilling at the office, doing aerobics with the local ibus, or anywhere within three miles of a wedding, Dangdut will be your constant companion – the soundtrack to your Javanese island life. Dangdut is loved by many in Indonesia, and, my faithful readers, it’s time for me to add a little extra musical spice to your life.

Here are two current hits by Cita Citata. Turn up the volume, sing along, and welcome to Java!

So Tell Me What You Want…

We all have hopes and dreams, and we all have things we want to accomplish in life. These things may change with age and experience. They may also depend on culture and socioeconomics. But, in general, I think we all have some sort of a “bucket list” in our heads.

My counterpart and I were recently teaching our students about “already” and “not yet.”  Why not ask our students to make their bucket lists? I thought. What did those shy, wide-eyed faces want out of life? What would any 8^th grader want out of life?

Sports, celebrities, jobs, and exotic foods.

Many of the boys wanted to meet their soccer heroes.

 

Far-flung destinations and new experiences.

Paris appeared on many of the girls’ lists. Thirteen year old girls love that romance.

In many ways, their lists could have been written by a middle school student anywhere in the world. They wanted to travel, meet their idols, try new things, and have exciting jobs. The differences often lay in the details.

Donkeys and sandwiches – why not?

Sandwiches, strawberries, pizza, and spaghetti – things we see every day in America – became exciting and exotic.

Many students wanted to travel, but their destinations often included India and Mecca, both of which have huge cultural and religious significance on this heavily Muslim, formerly Hindu, island.

One dream, however, struck me as more “Indonesian” than any other. It appeared on multiple students’ lists, and one lucky student got to put it in her “I have already…” column…

“I have already taken a picture with a tourist.”

The vast majority of Indonesians I have met are welcoming and friendly, and sometimes that means they want to remember welcoming me to their country forever. Some days, it’s hard for me to understand why people ask for my picture as if I was Taylor Swift just strolling down the street, but after seeing my students’ lists, I wonder if I’ve ever helped someone check something off of their bucket list.

Some of my students’ dreams will be difficult to achieve. Many of them will encounter financial, social, and educational obstacles along their paths to seeing snow, travelling to America, or becoming writer, doctors, and policemen. But, as they grow older and learn to face the sometimes harsh realities of the world, I hope they won’t forget the time they made their bucket lists in English class. Every 8^th grader should have room to dream, whether they dream of eating a sandwich or travelling the world.