awake

Perhaps it’s the barrage of recent earthquakes one island away and the distant reality of another tsunami that are keeping me awake. Perhaps its prayers unsaid, phone calls unmade, emails unanswered, work unfinished, suitcases un-unpacked, or the supposedly decaffeinated cups of chai tea that I gulped down during a late dinner that have me wide-eyed at 1:30 in the morning on a school night. But really, I should have known better... nothing in Indonesia is decaffeinated.

Whatever the reason, I find myself here in the glow of the laptop, the only one still awake in this big, quiet house. I was lying in bed just now thinking of so many things. One, of how my days here are all now running together in a mass of check marks on the calendar, waiting for The Day To Depart (how humanitarian of me, eh?).

It’s uncertain times in this disaster-plagued country. Though I was far from the recent tragedies, it’s nevertheless heart-wrenching to think of those affected... those who have already been through so much. I think the word is “unsettling” to describe it, as I’ve felt more uneasy here the past few days than I think I have the entire time I’ve been here. All the while, the Middle East is imploding, and government leaders are doing nothing to address the basic human needs and endangerment of at least a half a million innocent people displaced by and fleeing from the ruthless, senseless fighting. It’s so incredibly troubling.

Last week we were on “lockdown” one day in the office and not allowed to leave because of demonstrations going on the city. “Peaceful” demonstrations, but it’s almost like the word “lockdown” made it somewhat disturbing. In addition to disasters, Indonesia has its own political issues as well, the latest of which impacts Aceh directly. A precedent-setting bill was passed giving the province greater autonomy, resulting from negotiations which ended the decades of conflict prior to the tsunami. Some were pleased, but others still discontented. Regardless, to me, one of the most significant impacts is that it allows for the establishment of local courts that abide by their own religion-based rules that can, for example, strengthen penalties for women caught not wearing their veils, and so forth. Again, more unsettling news….

Anyway, to escape the fray (or unknowingly get closer to it), I left Banda for Jakarta last week for some meetings, then on to Yogyakarta for the weekend for even a greater change of scenery. No, not earthquake response this time, but seeing a sight – namely, one of the sometimes-unlisted wonders of the world, the Borobudur Temple. Built by Buddhists in the 8th century, the temple was mysteriously abandoned not long after its completion and rediscovered almost 1,000 years later by Dutch explorers. The architecture and artistry of the colossal structure are unmatched by almost any similar structure in the world. More than nine stories of carefully selected stones ascend upward in staircase-levels, culminating at a cylindrical tower representing nirvana, the highest state of existence in the Buddhist faith. Each sprawling level, though, is built of massive stones inlayed with carved relieves depicting the life of Buddha and his journey through the lower states of being. It was truly impressive and fascinating.

The following day we also had enough time to visit the Prambanan, a complex of Hindu temples almost as well known and as old as the Borobudur. Situated closer to Yogyakarta city, though, the ancient structures suffered quite a deal of damage during the May earthquake. Nonetheless, they were still open to the public, with dangerous areas fenced off for only distant viewing.

Though both structures were incredible and built with incomprehensible skill and labor so many centuries ago, I wandered around them with a glazed enchantment, remembering words etched in my memory years ago… The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by human hands…

… but in the hearts of all people. Even at 2:00 in the morning...

batty

A few months ago I discovered Alanis Morisette’s remake of Seal’s early nineties hit “Crazy,” and it's become my anthem. While dancing around my room, between breaks from the new Dixie Chicks cd, or through headphones amid our noisy, chaotic office, the ingenious chorus line “We’re never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy” always strikes a chord of comfort during times of fatigue and overload, displacement and delirious glee.

Returning from the strenous time at the Yogyakarta quake, I found myself a bit burned out, fielding demands from national headquarters and sick with some lack-of-sleep-induced flu-like terribleness. If juggling the aforementioned wasn’t enough, we were approaching the 18-month anniversary of the tsunami and probably the busiest time I’ve had here since December 2005. Tack on some internal team drama and having to fire my once-beloved assistant for various reasons I won’t enumerate, and well, it’s been a heck of a few weeks.

Editing and finalizing our 130+ page assessment of all of Indonesia kept me burning the midnight oil like a college student, and that preceding a full week of strategic planning for the next 3+ years of programming, and you have one Bonnie Jean in need of a break. Yeah, I know, “whoa is me,” when really, everyone works hard and constantly. But I guess it's the combination of all the recent weeks have entailed, immediately following the experience in the earthquake zone… ugh. Suffice it to say that I’ve begun my internal countdown calendar until I’m finished here. But even that is a double-edged sword, piercing with the reality that there’s much, much left to do before departing Banda.

Work and life both, though, are far from listless here, and the events of one particular night implore recounting…

It’s supposedly “dry season” in Aceh now, but from the time I arrived, no one has ever been able to quite provide an adequate definition or timeline depicting the true difference between “rainy” and “dry” seasons in this sauna of a land. Even though it’s been “dry” season for at least a month or two, the past few weeks it's rained incessantly (leading me to inquiries about “monsoon” season rather than rebuffing the arid heat). And here, when the rains come, the electricity goes, and at one point early last week, my housemates and I found ourselves without power for two days. Flashlights we had, and candles, too, but the problem of problems was that our water pump is electric… so showers, we also did not have.

After about 48-hours of funky-ness, Sujata and I were riding home one evening with Deva, one of our amazing drivers. He endured a few minutes of our be-moaning before reminding us ever-so-kindly, that in our emergency supplies stockpile (for earthquakes and what not) sitting right in our garage was… a generator. What?! A generator that we haven’t been using during this and endless other dark, hot nights of power failure?!?! Our lameness for never investigating what supplies had been delivered to our house a few months earlier was instantly dismissed by the joyful notion of running water and air conditioning. So as soon as the car came to a halt, we all scampered inside to investigate.

Sure enough, a bright and shiny never-before-cranked generator was sitting right there, along with some extra emergency lights that Su and I ripped into while Deva tinkered with the generator. Within minutes, the generator roared to life, but alas, our delight was short-lived… we had the power source, but not the cables to connect it properly to the house. Thoroughly disenchanted with our “emergency supplies” stockpile, we slunk back into the living room and were immediately greeted by the most unexpected of visitors… BATS.

In our haste to check on the generator, we had accidentally left our front door open, and along with our loudly-meowing, very-pregnant kitty cat, at least a dozen black flapping rabies-carrying Baby Dracula’s had come frolicking in the front door! They were swooping around our heads like a scene from Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds, and we all screamed like a bunch of schoolgirls. Su and I hit the deck, while Deva started trying to shew them away. But there were too many and the ceilings were too high, and on top of it, the power was off and the emergency lights were dead, so the house was nearly pitch black dark. All we could hear was the ominous flip-flap flip-flap of their sinister little wings and feel them brush by as they dive-bombed us in torment.

Deva grabbed the tennis-racquet-like mosquito zapper and jumped and swatted, Su curled up on the couch with her head covered, and I ducked-down and darted to make sure all the doors were open. Seeing that Deva was gravely outnumbered, I did what any semi-fearless Southern girl would do – I doned the straw cowboy hat hanging on the back of a chair (for moxy, of course), grabbed the nearest thing I could find to swat with, and joined the battle. However, my weapon of choice was a bit lacking in the intimidation factor... a giant, bright-orange plastic flower left-over from a gag-gift at our Christmas party. Despite drawing chortles of laughter from my comrades, my fast-flying foliage clearly instilled fear in my flock of nemeses, and the vicious blood-suckers started flapping toward the door. Between softball-player swings, I lit candles around the house, and it was likely this move, not my careening giant orange flower, which finally drove the black-winged invaders from our abode…

And that was just one night.

If I were to go into my “tossed at sea” adventure from last weekend that almost left Sharmila and I as the next Gilligan and Skipper, or ramble on about the plethora of critters creeping around Aceh, the frequent tremors, or digress about the World Cup fever that has consumed this country and the entire planet (sans America), I would be typing all night.

Just know that though I’ve been busy, I’m never caught in the doldrums amid this ever-lively environment. I even bought a bike recently and have been riding to work and around town (ignoring the catcalls and dodging traffic like a human Frogger), and this week was blessed to participate in a key “handing-over” ceremony for a group of houses we funded. The joy and smiles on people’s faces as they received the keys to their new homes was truly the delight of my week and among the greatest highlights of my time here so far.

I’m in Medan this weekend just for a break, getting some retail therapy at the mall and some Starbucks to boot. July has arrived, August is coming, and September will be the grand finale… But even as early as tomorrow, there will be fireworks over Banda Aceh... from our party! We're celebrating America right here in the eastern hemisphere! Happy Fourth!!

a bit crazy but surviving,
bonnie jean