A quick look back at the last few months
Hello everyone,
it’s absolutely mad! I’ve just been re-reading my first blog post from early November and had to smile. In it, I wrote about how astonishingly quickly the first two months had flown by, and today – six months later – I’ve reached the point where I have to realise that it’ll be exactly another two months like that before I’m back in Germany. It’s both exciting and terrifying at the same time, because I can’t imagine flying back so soon and leaving Indonesia behind, along with all the people who have grown so dear to my heart.
By now, I’ve grown so used to my life in Mamasa that I sometimes forget I’m actually just a guest in this country and my time here is limited. I’ve settled in so well here that everyday life at the nursery, the obligatory rice with every meal, my free time with my friends and so much more have become my new home. I don’t even notice the muezzin anymore, whom I used to hear five times a day during my first few months in Mamasa. Will I miss him and the general background noise of rattling motorbikes, barking dogs and the insistent karaoke music from next door?
But before I get too melancholic, I’d like to tell you what’s been happening recently.
In January and February, I was travelling a lot. It all started with a trip to Bali and Java with Emil and Micha, after which I explored Jakarta and Makassar with friends from Mamasa, and then came the mid-term seminar in Kalimantan. There, the three of us met volunteers from VEM – another sending organisation from Germany. It was good to swap stories about our experiences on the respective islands and to discover a few commonalities and, consequently, a shared understanding.
In March, I was then able to experience Ramadan for the first time in a country where Islam is the predominant religion. However, as the majority of people in Mamasa are Christian, there was little sign of the fasting month here. Apart from the fact that the muezzin’s call rang out more than five times a day and small snack stalls were set up around the mosque.
Quite the opposite of Makassar, I felt. During the day, the city – usually teeming with motorbikes, cars and minibuses – was completely deserted. You hardly saw a soul on the streets and only a few restaurants were open. But at half past five – as the sun slowly began to set – people suddenly poured out of their homes and met up with family and friends to eat together at large banquet tables or in restaurants. So every evening, within 30 minutes, the deserted neighbourhoods were transformed into a hive of activity with dense, persistent traffic jams. As Christians, we naturally had complete freedom to eat and drink. However, out of solidarity with the Muslims, we too avoided eating or drinking in public during the day. Instead, we ordered food to be delivered to our homes and then went out in the evening with everyone else. It was a very interesting experience for me, one that I am unlikely to have again any time soon.
Unfortunately, I was unable to experience ‘Idul Fitri’ – the festival marking the end of the fasting month – at close quarters. This was because I was in Bali at the time to watch the celebrations for the Hindu New Year. Although partly public and partly private ceremonies took place at the temples a few days before the main event, the highlight was the “Ogoh-ogoh” festival. A procession in which more or less terrifying homemade monsters were held aloft. Amidst loud shouts, drumming and torches, thousands of Hindus, young and old, made their way through the narrow streets to drive away the evil spirits of the past year and enter the new year purified. In doing so, they sometimes had to weave their way rather awkwardly through the crowds of curious tourists, with the odd body part of a monster getting caught here and there. Whether it was a religious event or merely a tourist attraction was pushed into the background the following day. For on 29 March, every two years, ‘Nyepi’, the Day of Silence, is celebrated. This is a day on which all human activity ceases completely. Everyone across the whole of Bali must stay in their homes; there is no traffic, noise is reduced to a minimum, and music and lights are switched off. In some parts of Bali, people even refrain from speaking. Depending on how strongly Hindu a place is, the observance is more or less strict. So whilst ‘Nyepi’ is a national holiday, it is only celebrated in Bali and in places where there is a Hindu majority.
Another highlight was that I lived for a week in a small, very rural village called Talambai. This is the home of part of my host family, and they had invited me to go there to experience the difference between city and village life even more clearly. And yes, I really hadn’t expected it to be so different from Mamasa, which is already very village-like. After a four-hour hike along very rutted sandy tracks through the jungle (which would never be approved for motorbikes in Germany), we arrived exhausted. My host siblings’ house is situated amidst lush green coffee trees, which spread out across steep, densely vegetated slopes on red earth. Here I was able to experience what it’s like to get by on very little for a long time. As there was no electricity during the day, we cooked over a fire, which meant we first had to go and collect wood. Then we usually cooked rice and vegetables – exactly what you can grow in the garden. Sometimes there was a fried egg, too, if the hens were busy laying. Twice, a chicken was prepared especially for me, and of course I was able to watch the slaughtering. If you needed to do a number two, you had to walk down to a small stream. And that wasn’t actually all that bad, because you had your peace and quiet and could listen to the birdsong. You just had to watch out for the mosquitoes. Every day, despite the rain, we walked up the nearest hill for just under an hour to look for a signal. On the way there, we kept crossing other people’s gardens. It wasn’t uncommon for us to stop and have a little chat over a cup of tea, coffee or ballo (a fermented sweet-and-sour alcoholic drink made from the fruit of a tree).
We also walked for an hour to church on Sundays, with the path taking us past the low-lying coffee trees. The fact that we sat in the service completely sweaty and covered in mud on our legs didn’t bother anyone, as everyone had made a similar journey. Afterwards, people didn’t go straight home, but met up with the congregation, brought each other something fresh from their own gardens and shared the latest gossip over lunch. As mobile phones are rather less useful here and people live relatively far apart, they certainly have plenty to talk about every Sunday.
During the week, I also popped into the school in Talambai. It is the only school in the area, which is why primary and secondary education are combined. I was very impressed when, whilst introducing the children, a teacher told me that most of them live so far away that they have to walk about ten kilometres to school every day and back again at midday. She said this was also the reason why there is only one subject per day, so that the children can get home as quickly as possible before the heavy rain starts in the early afternoon.
All in all, I had many new experiences. What sticks in my mind is the very simple and relaxed lifestyle. They get up at sunrise, spend the day planting, harvesting, cooking and sitting together in a convivial atmosphere until they go to bed at 7 pm when the sun sets. At first, this daily routine seemed a bit monotonous to me, but over time I came to understand the conviviality and contentment of the people. Even though they don’t have much and live relatively cut off from the ‘rest of the world’, without any time-consuming social media or other frills, I get the impression that they lack nothing essential here and are content given the circumstances. That impressed me and I look back on that time fondly.
Easter is also worth mentioning. Much like I know it from my church, there is a sort of ‘Easter morning’ where you get up before sunrise and meet people from the village. In Mamasa, crowds of people gathered at three o’clock in the morning outside the mayor’s house, holding brightly lit torches and playing loud music. The crowd was divided into their respective parishes. As they made their way through the streets of Mamasa, each group represented their parish with decorations of varying degrees of elaborateness. Some drove around in small trucks with booming loudspeakers, others carried a homemade replica of their church on their shoulders. When I learnt that this was ultimately just for a beauty contest, I was a bit disappointed by the message. The parade’s destination was the large field in the centre of Mamasa, where a festive church service was held whilst the sun rose over the high mountains in the background.
The tradition of the egg hunt exists here in Indonesia too. Only here, boiled eggs – neither colourful nor made of chocolate – are hidden. When I asked why they used ordinary eggs, the answer was that it wasn’t strictly necessary; the children enjoyed it anyway. Of course, there were also workshops afterwards where Easter baskets and eggs were creatively decorated. So I couldn’t really complain 😉
Over the past few weeks, there have been lots of events and activities at the nursery. From camping in the countryside to afternoon activities and devotions, there was something for everyone. It struck me how many of the activities had something to do with recycling. On one occasion, the class spent a week making decorations out of snack wrappers and plastic bottles. At a fashion show, the children proudly presented their extraordinary outfits made from plastic bags, bottles and cardboard. It was incredibly creative and fascinating. So I didn’t need to add much more on the subject of recycling.
Now that the official curriculum has finished at the nursery and everyone is actually working hard towards the first-year enrolment ceremony, there is still time left for a few English lessons with Miss Hanna. I’ve noticed that the children have varying levels of prior knowledge of English. It’s not always easy to find the right level for everyone in a class. But by the time we get to the games, everyone is involved.
And when I finally have a moment’s peace for a little while, I often find myself looking out of the window, watching the evening sunlight shine on the mustard-yellow church, whilst the smell of freshly fried bananas wafts up to my nose.
Then I realise just how much I’m going to miss Mamasa and that I really must make the most of the time I have left. I’m sure there’s still plenty to be gained from these last two months.
See you soon!
This text was automatically translated using an AI-powered translation system.
