Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Computer-bound
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Last Mapping Day
We started at 7 am as usual, and by 8:30 had reached our destination: a 1500 meter peak. I agree that doesn't sound like much, but when you're starting from sea level 1500 meters in 1.5 hours is quite the workout. We then descended to a creek bottom with huge boulders that was to serve as our trail for the next hour. Boulder hopping in tropical countries is one of my favorite activities EVER. The worst that can happen is that you fall in the water - which is cool and refreshing. We stopped to have lunch on a few of the boulders - the small waterfalls nearby made talking near impossible - fish swarmed around the pools formed by the boulders - and for the first time in months I was really at peace. I don't know how many times in my life I've experienced this feeling - but they are few and far between, so it was truely a great day.
Unfortunately, the second half of our day didn't go very well. Our guide knew exactly how to get to our destinations but his plan for going home was, well, nonexistant. So we wacked our way through bushes for about 3 hours until we finally found a trail out of the forest.
All in all, this was a really excellent way to finish the mapping experience - a bit of guide error, some respectable mountains and streams, and sucessful data collection. Tomorrow the team goes home to Pontianak, and I head to Ketapang to talk with the national park director again.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Chopping down trees and losing
My day was spent wading through swamp forest. With two guides, Tono and I were supposed to take GPS points at three border points. We were doing fine until we came to a wide river. The bridge was broken, so our guides decided to chop down a tree to serve as a new bridge. The prospective bridge was growing at the edge of the river. All we had to do was cut it so that it fell across the stream. Using the ubiquitous machete, our guides chopped at the tree for about 10 minutes until it should have fallen – by all laws of gravity this tree should have already become our bridge! But it seemed reluctant to fall, so we began pushing it over by hand. Still unsuccessful, we cut down another, smaller tree to use a leverage. After a full half hour of encouraging the tree to fall with no luck, we gave up and decided to get wet. For once, a tree wins the war against the inhabitants of Kalimantan!
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Not In My BackYard
One of the oddest things about doing this work is our dependence on the hospitality of the people we are studying. This morning we (7 people) showed up in a village where we knew no one, and asked to spend the night. Of course they said yes – because everyone recognizes that no hotels or guesthouses exist in this part of the world. We are staying with a VERY rich man. The house is complete with a living room full of furniture, adjacent shop, running water, indoor toilets, beds, and a kitchen table. Which is definitely the most surprising aspect of the house – even in the cities people don’t often use tables.
Our host made his money from logging, rubber, mining, and oil palm – all the usual suspects in
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Moving again
Today was our last day in Sungai Daka – tomorrow we move to a village called Merangin. I spend the day on a motorbike again, surveying villages in the area. I overdosed on sweet coffee, tea, and other drinks offered during our survey work, and by the time I got home my hands were shaking from so much sugar and caffeine.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Drinking Games
We mapped durian gardens today, which was a nice break from time spent on a motorbike. In the evening, after showering and deciding on a plan for the last day of work in Sungai Daka, I joined Tono at a wedding taking place in the village common room. In many ways it reminded me of an American party – a band was playing on the stage, a group was dancing to the music, and there were drinking games in the middle of the room. The only massive difference? Everyone, except the dancers, was sitting down. And the men and women had to enter and exit from different doors. I did my best to play the drinking game – which involved seeing who could last the longest sipping tuak (fermented cassava root) via straw from a huge jug. I then tried dancing – which was far more fun than the drinking.
My overall impression of the night was one of control, however. Every five minutes or so, I and all the other dancers and men in the building was offered arak. I’d been told that turning down arak is impolite, so I took the smallest sips possible, but by the end of the night I wasn’t exactly sober…
Monday, July 21, 2008
Arrogance
Every village has a different character. Some are curious, some are boring. This village is arrogant and dominant. We are staying with the Kepala Desa (head of village) and he is excited about helping us do our work. However, his help mostly comes in the form of telling us what to do (and what we are capable of doing!). He outright informed the women in our team that they were not able to hike long distances, and that they didn’t have the speaking skills to conduct interviews. Um, what?? We’ve been doing this work for a year. But I can’t be mad in this place – or even show discomfort. Instead I smile and say “Yes Sir – that’s right, they are women. But – haha! – they’re all we have and they are very smart – they’re just quiet right now because they are trying to be polite. And yes they might have short legs but – hehe – its no problem for them to walk 15 kilometers per day. In fact – crazy girls – they LOVE to walk 15 kilometers per day!”
I was both lucky and unfortunate today in my work. My guide was the kepala dusun (head of subvillage) a relatively young man who perfectly resembles the character of this village. When we first met he spent 10 minutes trying to figure out why I wasn’t married, and then he bragged about his own long and productive (3 children) marriage.
Our assignment was to map the border of the village area. This work involved some hiking, but mostly consisted of driving on oil palm roads and taking GPS points. I think my guide wanted to impress the foreigner, because he took me on a tour of the oil palm processing plant (something I’ve been wanting to do for a year, but have not been able to receive permission to do); introduced me to his friends eating pork and forest birds, and drinking arak, in the middle of an oil palm garden; took me to the old logging camp and let me take photos to my heart’s content; and offered me coffee in his hut in the middle of the oil palm plantation. So for the price of listening to bragging all day, I got some great information.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Swimming
Today we moved to Sungai Daka in a truck, and are ready to start work tomorrow morning. This village is located on one of the biggest rivers in the region, which means….SWIMMING! Albeit with a sarong, and yeah there is a mining operation upstream that uses mercury to extract gold, but I’ll just avoid swallowing the water and everything will be fine.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Rice House!
Another long day on the motorbike. I was getting desperate to find our next study village so we set off in a heavy rain to a set of villages with the oldest oil palm in the region. Again the trip consisted of navigating motorbikes through oil palm. Perhaps the most shocking moment was during our drive along the border of
Again the actual surveying of villages was fairly un-extraordinary – we were able to find our next village/destination (Sungai Daka) before heading home at around
Friday, July 18, 2008
Night Hike
Of course our trip took us past the mountain, particularly stunning this morning, wrapped in clouds…but soon enough we entered the oil palm plantation again, and my thoughts ran away from mountains to the boredom of endless palm trees. Our trip was relatively uneventful (we got a flat tire, observed a pack of otters, took a break at a lake, and checked out a cave full of bats) – and were home by 3 pm. After a quick snack and drink, we put on our hiking sandals and started the 7 kilometer trek to the neighboring village – Kembera. We arrived at around 5 pm to see that almost everyone in the village was at – guess what? – a meeting about the wedding that had happened in Baya the night before.
At the invitation of the village head, we sat down in a house filled with men animatedly talking in a Dayak language that was totally incomprehensible to me. Half of the men were drunk, and I was immediately offered arak which I sipped as the customary leader of the village introduced himself. He asked me the following question:
“Should religion and culture be tied together, or should religion and culture be split?” He was seeking this answer because there was a problem regarding weddings in the village – apparently some of the villagers preferred good Christian weddings without all the customary Dayak traditions (e.g., beating live pigs with live chickens), while others felt that despite the fact that everyone in this area is Christian, the traditions of the culture should be observed as well as the traditions of the religion.
So this was a loaded question. I tried to explain that in my country religion and government are separate – yet religion is intertwined with culture. Religion and culture really can’t be entirely separate, no matter how hard one tries. I don’t think this satisfied the customary village leader, because about five minutes later he asked me the same question for the second time!
Before I had sipped too much arak, we finally left the meeting to get the data we had come for – village population, oil palm status and village facilities (water sources, etc). At around 7 pm we started the walk home in the dark, and I realized this was the first time I’d been outside in the Indonesian rainforest at night. Our path was lighted by an amazing full moon, and the sky was totally clear so that we didn’t have to use our headlamps except under the forest canopy. Marvelous! These moments are the times I most love working in Indonesia.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Endless Oil Palm
My assignment today is oil palm. This village has just a little bit of oil palm – less than 4% of the entire village area. I’m going to map the edges of planted oil palm, of cleared oil palm, and the area that is planned for clearing in the near future. Oil palm plantations are not particularly nice places to do field work – although they offer easy access (lots of roads) they are hot and boring. After 2 hours of work, the motorbike I was riding on broke, and I had to wait in the middle of the plantation for about an hour while my guide found another motorbike. The day ended at the canteen in the oil palm plantation, eating spicy noodles and trying to explain to the security guard why I was puttering around the plantation.
As we work, my guide tells me about previous researchers who have worked in Baya. One woman in particular worked in the region for about 5 years, and was fluent in the local language as well as Indonesian. Amazing! I enjoy the fact that people here are used to westerners, because they pay less attention to me and that at least gives me the illusion of having a bit of privacy.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Dancing and Drugs, oh my!
I awoke this morning to the sound of roosters crowing and a ten year old boy asking – “Do you want to go to the waterfall to bathe?”. How could I say no! So at 6:30 am I along with the rest of the team piled into the truck and traveled about a kilometer to a 10 meter tall waterfall. After scrambling down to the base of the falls, I splashed around in the for about ½ hour until I was thoroughly cold – but I’d made a couple friends from the village too. Physical activity builds strong bonds more quickly than simply talking with folks here – I’ve found that after a hard day of work, or after a game (volleyball), people are more willing to be friendly, instead of simply curious/staring. Of course swimming fully clothed in a waterfall is not much of a bath, so upon returning to the village I bathed again, this time in the river.
After this refreshing morning, we ate breakfast (my life of rice and fish three times a day has commenced again) and then checked out the wedding celebration. It was far from anything I had ever experienced. I suppose I should back up a bit here and inform those who don’t know – Dayak peoples are the “natives” of Borneo. They inhabited this place long before Indonesia was a country, and even before the Dutch arrived. Each village has its own customs and even it’s own language (totally different from the Indonesain language). Dayaks make up almost 50% of the population of Indonesian Borneo, and even the governor of West Kalimantan is Dayak. Native Dayaks were marginalized by the Suharto government, and they are still a minority in Indonesia, both ethnically and religiously – all Dayaks are Catholic, Protestant, or Animist. Somehow old Dayak customs manage to mix well with the new Christian religions (introduced in the mid-1900s) and the wedding incorporates both Christian and Dayak traditions.
When we arrived at the wedding, this is what I observed: A newly constructed platform as an extension of an existing house, build especially for the wedding. In the center of this platform was a structure made from banana fronds, bamboo, rattan, and batik cloth, in the center of which was a jar filled with arak, or rice wine. Around this structure was a group of men playing gongs and drum, and next to them were two men gyrating in a slow dance. Encircling the players were village residents, watching the festivities and drinking arak from a woman walking around and offering the drink to all guests. In addition to arak, many of the men and women were chewing betel nut.
The villagers graciously offered my arak, and then an old woman grabbed my hand and asked me if I’d like to chew betel nut. I’ve encountered this plant before – in Thailand. It stains the teeth red, and I figured it must have some addictive and or drug-like qualities, since those who chew it seem to chew it constantly, like chain-smokers. Here, old women and men make betel-nut packets – they use the nut itself, a couple of different leaves, and a paste made from river snails (yuumm….) and stick the whole thing in the mouth. They chew, and spit bright red juice. The concoction is never swallowed. Locals think the nut makes your teeth strong because the teeth eventually turn black – but from what I can see, everyone who chews betel nut has very few teeth left!
Anyway, I chewed some betel nut along with the leaf and snail paste. It was one of the most nasty, bitter, definitely-not-food things that I’ve ever put in my mouth, and the villagers had a good laugh as I ran to the railing and spit the stuff out. But almost at the same moment, I realized why people chew betel nut – for its narcotic properties. I began to feel unusually warm, and slightly light-headed, and giddy. Of course my new village friends realized this, so they goaded me into a dance around the banana leaf structure – dancing apparently consists of stamping your feet and clapping in time to the music. Nice, but certainly not lindy-hop!
After my dancing and drug experience (at 10 in the morning, no less) I took a nap for about an hour before one of the villagers told me to come watch the pig ceremony. We walked to a pig pen where the villagers were gathered around, nervously waiting for…a woman to throw water on the pig. When you throw water on a pig, it throws water – and feces from its pen – back at you. Somehow this fact got lost in translation and after the water-throwing event I was covered with stinky pig-poo. So I went to wash in the river before the next event of the day, a ceremony where a live pig is beaten with a live chicken. Yes, this falls in the category of animal abuse – but of course I can only watch and smile. Next, a large basket of uncooked rice is prepared. Villagers must fight to win the basket, and whoever wins is…THE WINNER! These events are like carnival games for children, and as far as I can see have very little to do with the actually marriage of two young people.
In the afternoon I decided to clear my head and take a walk to another village, about 2 kilometers away. I was happily walking down the road, enjoying the quiet and the heat, when a motorbike roared up with two men. The man in the back got off the motorbike and asked where I was going, and why I was alone – typical questions in Indonesia. Then he started walking with me – which was fine, except that he complained every step of the way! How hot it was, how far to the next village, the fact that he didn’t have shoes, the fact that he was embarrassed to be seen walking instead of riding a motorbike, how this trip was going to make his skin even blacker. My peaceful walk thus turned into a good story of a man who was willing to bear black skin to spend some quality time with a foreigner who just wanted a few moments alone.
Returning to the village that afternoon, we immediately began our mapping meeting. As we did last year, this year we are mapping villages – but just three of them, and all Dayak. Thus the work is more or less the same, but the place is different. Here, in Baya, a land use and border map already exist, hopefully making our job easy?!? Mapping meeting finished, we bathed in the river, washed our clothes, and ate dinner, then headed to the wedding. Because they’d been downing arak all day, everyone was drunk, and madly dancing around the banana structure. They pulled me in using physical force and I joined the craziness for about 10 minutes before retreating to the quiet of the dining room, where I ate my first pork in Kalimantan. Delicious! How glad I am that I’m not a vegetarian here…
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Into the Jungle
My day was dominated by traveling. After checking out of my hotel room, I hired an ojek to drive me by motorbike to the bus station. I’ve stared to use my foreign-ness as a bargaining chip – the 20-year old ojek driver agreed to knock down the price (from $2 to $1.50) for the chance to get a cellphone photo with me, the buleh. After arrive at the bus station ½ hour early for a bus that was leaving at 11 am, I then proceeded to wait two more hours until the bus finally left at about 1:30 pm. Indonesia! This is the first time I’ve taken the bus in Ketapang, and it was similar to an ojek, but instead of feeling like I was going to be squashed by every truck encountered along the way, I had the impression that the bus driver was trying to run down every small child, old person, vegetable salesperson, dog, and bicycle rider along the side of the road. To my near disbelief, we made the trip with zero deaths or accidents! In Telok Melano, I met the rest of the team and we quickly hired a boat to take us upriver, to a port from which we would then try to find ground transportation to our final destination, Baya.
A small digression. This year our team consists of six Indonesians, plus myself. This is the same group of people I worked with last year, and we have already developed a comfort in living and trust in work that I have rarely experienced in my life. Each of us has our strange quirks and moments, and each contributes to the team in essential ways. Dessy is our fearless leader, well-spoken and the oldest in the group. Yadi is a great interviewer, and is as hippy as a devout Indonesian Muslim man can be. Windi is the social heart and logistic coordinator of the group, and because she is married has broken more than a few hearts in Ketapang. Pita is small and adorable, but is infinitely competent and had this sarcastic sense of humor that I appreciate, because it is rarely found in Indonesia. Neli is quiet and tall, and has a calmness about her that keeps everyone in the group grounded. The baby and only Christian/Dayak of the group is Tono, a smart and goofy young man who is rain-forest-smart. I’m about to share two intense weeks with this team.
Back to my story: Finding ground transport was a bit of a shot in the dark – transportation is never guaranteed in Kalimantan, especially if it is 1) early evening, 2) not booked in advance and 3) you don’t know anyone in the village where you are going. Perhaps the rest of the team was worried about this sticky situation, but I was so blown away by being back in the jungle I successfully ignored the fact that we didn’t know where we would be sleeping in the evening. The boat ride was gorgeous. Packed in to a small speed boat with all our belongings, there was nothing to do but look for monkeys in the trees along the river. And the monkeys cooperated – I saw three species during our 1.5 hour boat ride. One of the biggest similarities between humans and monkeys is our shared love of making noise – like humans, monkeys here in Kalimantan seem to chatter constantly, and supplement this chatter by shaking branches and screaming. Thus it was not hard to locate the primates eating fruit from trees overhanging the river as we zipped by. I have been too long in cities – even the air smelled sweet as we entered the jungle.
Upon arrival in Matan, the final river port, we disembarked from the boat (I couldn’t feel my legs for approximately five minutes) and asked the locals if there was anyone willing to drive us to Baya. Amazingly enough, a truck was leaving to Baya at that very moment…so we quickly piled our belongings in the back and commenced the third leg of our trip, into the mountains. By this time it was getting dark outside, so we stood in the back of the truck (it was sort of a dump truck, but the back was filled with people and belongings) and appreciated the sun set over the mountains to the west. The reason that we could see the sun set (usually not possible in the middle of a rain forest) is that we were driving through endless oil palm plantation, newly cleared so that the trees were no taller than 2 meters. As with most transport in Kalimantan, we were going so fast that all bumps threw us (the passengers in the back) into the air. My feet spent much time flying during the giddy trip to Baya. After sunset, the trip became truly trippy/giddy – the sky was totally clear, a nearly full moon was rising, and we were ducking oil palm fronds and trees as the truck thundered into the older part of the plantation.
Finally arriving in Baya was a relief. Please realize that there are no hotels/guest house or cell phones in these villages – we could not sleep in a place especially reserved for guests, nor could we call ahead to inform the villagers that 7 people plus belongings would like to spend the night. Luckily people in Kalimantan are usually extremely welcoming to guests – we were immediately introduced to the village customary leader, fed noodles, and offered a couple rooms to sleep in.
Petai Udang
I’ve discovered my new favorite dish in Indonesia. Petai udang. Which means Shrimp Petai. A spicy shrimp-veggie dish served with rice. What, you ask, is petai? It is a quarter sized green leguminous seed that comes from rain forest trees. The consistency is like uncooked lima bean, and the taste is sort of like asparagus. Delicious! I know you are dubious, but don’t knock it until you try it. I ordered it for dinner last night by accident, and I am now in love.
Returning to more serious topics – I’m off to the field tomorrow, and will be back to a computer in about two weeks. Today was yet another day of getting letters – in the third city thus far – and I am now free (more or less) to continue research in this fine bureaucratic nation.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Things to Think About
I flew from Jakarta to Pontianak Saturday night, and arrived to see a couple of my good friends waiting eagerly at the gate. After greeting Indonesian style (no hugging, just double-cheek fake kisses for the girls, and handshakes for the guys), we loaded my three huge bags of equipment into the only taxi that would take us (the others all demanded that the bags be divided among two taxis). Driving to the office was like coming home - mostly because I could suddenly see the stars and hear the crickets again after far too long in airports and Jakarta, both bereft of natural life. Pontianak seems very welcoming - last year I was overwhelmed and more than a bit scared arriving in a place where I knew no one!
Bang Umar and Ka Tia, plus their two daughters, met me at the office. Living with them is kind of like living with an older sibling - they are too young to be my parents, but definitely older than I, both in responsibility and age. I dropped my bags in the spare room and we went to buy some food - mixed stir fried veggies - before I fell into bed, exhausted.
Somehow I'd forgotten the tiredness that comes with speaking a foreign language all day. This year is immeasurably (or perhaps very measurably - in hundreds of words) better than the past because I can speak and understand everyday conversations. However, far more effort is required to understand Indonesian than English. If I zone out, even for a moment, I lose the train of conversation and have to stop whoever is talking to me, saying "sorry, can you repeat what you just said?"
At the airport I was accosted by a number of people, who all wanted to speak with the white girl. The photo-takers mobbed me at one point, and I stood with a forced smile on my face while they all posed for photos. Photo-taking in Indonesia, as in the US, often comes with a snowball effect - one person wants a photos, and then her friend, and suddenly half the airport! So if you see random photos of a curly-haired buleh in the hands of someone from Sumatra, don't be surprised =)
More tomorrow - I start the Pontianak visa process in the morning, and will be playing with sulfuric acid in the afternoon. Fun times in the equator city!