The Things We Know

After a “brief” hiatus, I’m back with some musings on the two years past, the four months to come, and the difficulty of saying goodbye. Get ready to delve deep. But for those inclined to lighter fare, keep a look-out for upcoming posts on what I’ve been checking off of my Indonesian Bucket List. Temples, volcanoes, sea turtles, and fire dances to come!

We all know a number of things, and many of those things are based on our personal experience. For example, I know that you should always double check dates when you order plane tickets online, that lavender will deter all manner of creatures from moving into your wardrobe (read: cats and spiders), and that you should never try to fit your car into a small parking space by hitting the gas and hoping for the best.

I also know that I hate saying goodbyes. As much as I love adventures and exciting new things, I dread closing chapters of my life – whether they be years or weekends spent with people I care for in places I’ve come to call home.

Four short months from today, I will be closing another chapter. I will be packing my bags and sleeping one last time in my village surrounded by rice paddies in the middle of Java. In so many ways I am ready to go. I’m ready to be reunited with my family, catch up with my friends, eat kale, and sip overpriced lattes. In so many ways it will be so good to go home.

But in many other, equally as important ways it will be heart-wrenching to barrel through the rice paddies one last time – to lift off into the air above these islands strewn across the Pacific and head back towards…who knows what?!

For all the “unknowns” I was afraid of on my flight coming here, there will be so many more “knows” that I will mourn the loss of as I drift back towards the homeland. There are people, places, sounds, sensations, and flavors that have transformed over these past two years from their strange-newness into a familiar-accompaniment of life in Indonesia.

We are what we know, for better or worse. I know the awkwardness of being stared at every time I walk out my front door. I know the shock of being screamed at in the street for no good reason (and the tarnished empowerment of sometimes screaming back). But I also know the sounds of glee that come from a flock of five year olds as they rush to “salim” me with their suspiciously damp and crusty hands every morning on my way to school. I know that every cup of sugary tea and every piece of double-fried tempeh becomes more delicious the longer I’m here. I know the beat of the busker’s drums as he and his pals jam out to dangdut in a crowded bus aisle. I know the smell of trash-burning, dust-swirling, and rice-boiling. I know the laughter of a nude-bathing grandma who calls out my name every day when I walk home from school. I know how the rain clouds roll in at 3pm as the banana leaves make rushing sounds in the gathering breeze.

All these things have become parts of me, fragments of the mosaic that makes up each one of our lives. These are the things that will haunt and comfort me when I think of Indonesia for years to come. And to these things that I know, I will never need to say goodbye.

IGLOW NGAWI 2015

This year, Christmas came early in Indonesia – at least for me! After months of planning and wondering if all of the piece would really come together, my school hosted IGLOW Ngawi 2015. I couldn’t have wished for anything more this holiday season.

Indonesian Girls Leading Our World is a branch of Peace Corps’ popular “GLOW” (and BRO for boys) camps. All across the world, youth gather for empowerment, wellness, and leadership training. It was a privilege to work with my school on developing our own IGLOW camp. I can’t say enough how much the success of IGLOW Ngawi is owed to the teachers and staff at my school, as well as the high school counselors and my fellow-Peace Corps volunteers who helped everything run smoothly (and kept me sane!).

Rather than continuing to gush over how all my “summer camp meets Peace Corps meets Indonesia” dreams finally came true, take a look for yourselves. The smiling faces of these lovely girls as they grew in confidence and as leaders was worth more than all the silver and gold Yukon Conelius could ever put to song.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and a Wonderful New Year to all!

IGLOW Ngawi Needs You!

Courage, sacrifice, determination, commitment, toughness, heart, talent, guts. That’s what little girls are made of. – Bethany Hamilton

When women have opportunities to share equally in leadership roles with men, as well as have equal access to family income and work opportunities, communities thrive economically and socially.

In light of recent and ongoing tragedies in Paris, Beirut, and Baghdad, it is easy to wonder how much of a difference we, as individuals, can make in the world. Our hearts are broken and our minds uncomprehending.

But every day when I go to school and am greeted by the fresh, eager faces of my students, I am reminded that there is good in the world. There are hopes, there are precious futures, and there is kindness.

This December, some of those bright faces and eager souls will have an opportunity to attend an IGLOW camp at my school.

IGLOW: Indonesian Girls Leading Our World is a camp organized throughout the world by Peace Corps Volunteers and their community partners. Sixty girls from ten local schools will join us for three days of workshops and camp activities. We hope to create a safe, open environment for the girls to explore their strengths, goals, and opportunities. They will also receive information about personal health, safety, and how to be good stewards of the environment. These skills and information are desperately needed in many Indonesian communities. What a privilege it will be for these girls to lead the way towards a physically, environmentally, and socially healthier future in their families, schools, and communities!

But we can’t do it alone. My school has made a generous contribution to our IGLOW fund, but we would like to raise an additional $800. Faithful readers and subscribers, this is a precious opportunity for you to step in and give directly to the community I have been writing about and sharing with you for the past 20 months. With your donation, you can make a tangible difference in the lives of these girls. For less than $20, we can send one girl to camp – all expenses paid.

There is much fear and doubt in the world, but I hope IGLOW will give these girls an opportunity to see the good in themselves, their communities, their futures, and in those who lend their support from abroad. Please thoughtfully consider giving to our IGLOW project. 100% of your donation goes directly to IGLOW: Ngawi, and every dollar goes a long way.

Click here to give!

You can be sure I will keep my blog updated with plenty of pictures and stories as our IGLOW plans unfold!

Reog Ponorogo

There are some things in our lives that draw us towards them with an irresistible force of curiosity – things that we know we must explore, discover, and experience. We aren’t sure exactly what to anticipate from these things, but we know that they are pieces that were somehow meant to fit into the grander schemes of our lives.

When I heard stories about dancers who hold giant masks in their teeth, I knew I had to see them.

Reog Ponorogo is a dance that encapsulates much of Javanese culture. While watching it, I felt that my experiences on this island fell into context – a bright, elaborate, colorful, blaring context.

The king’s mask, held in the performers hand just as the story begins to unfold.

The dramatic dance tells the story of a king on his way to propose to the princess of a neighboring kingdom. The king is pompous and proud as he tames trotting horsemen, spinning witch-doctors, stomping ruffians, and giant peacock-lions on his way to the princess – eventually assembling them into a great performance in her honor. And I thought popping the question was nerve racking!

Although the details of the story portrayed in the dance may vary, every full performance contains these four elements. Each group takes the stage to show off their stuff – movements refined to the nature of the performed personalities. The riders expertly mimic the playful movements of their bamboo horses. The witch-doctors shake their shaggy heads as they somersault across the stage. The ruffians frown and spar with one another. But the show stopper is always the peacock-feathered lion.

Peacock, lion, tiger, man.

The lion (or tiger, depending on whether you want to focus on the strips or the mane…either way there is a lot going on here) masks are recognized as the largest masks in the world. This fact makes it all the more impressive that the dancers, while balancing the mask on their heads, must hold it steady in their teeth. Talk about a dentist’s nightmare!

This feat of physical strength is so otherworldly that many of these dancers are credited with supernatural powers, and it isn’t uncommon for dancers to enter a trance-like state as they turn, nod, collapse to the ground, and rise up again across the stage.

As if the weight of the mask wasn’t enough, some peacock-lion dancers will even allow a person to sit atop the lion head. While this is often a child or adolescent, sometimes it is also a full grown man. Here is a segment of video I took at the 2015 Reog Ponorogo Festival…

In case you didn’t catch how insane what you just watched is, that is a full grown man atop the world’s largest mask balancing in someone’s teeth.

Reog Ponorogo has largely become a performance-based art, but it comes out of a tradition that firmly believed in spirits, possessions, and the super natural power of trance. And when you watch today’s performances, you get it. The drums beat, shrill voices flood your ears, shaggy-masked acrobats fly through the air, ranks of horses charge by, stout men stomp and yell, and the peacock-lion flutters and looms into your view. The impossible unfolds before you in a tidal wave of color, movement, and noise. The rhythm tugs you in and you are there, submerged in the heady intoxication of Java.