27 June 2009, 2.15PM (AMB)

I’m writing this on the plane from Ambon to Jakarta (with a transit in Surabaya). We just took off and I’m so glad I got a window seat because whoa, it is a beautiful world down below. The skies are this really intense shade of blue, the sea is sparkling, twinkling, winking, I can see the white beaches of Maluku with the misty mountain ranges in the distance… and here in this little plane I am slumped helplessly in my seat wondering how it could be possible for anyone to even doubt the existence of some higher power. It’s got to be so obvious that there is a God out there, whoever He may be, because this is sheer mad perfection.

What a month it’s been.

The thing I love about traveling is that it’s like jam-packing a couple of years’ worth of life experiences into a few days. Everything intensifies — senses become more acute, emotions more potent, decisions more crucial — forcing you to discover so much about yourself, the layers that emerge under stress or duress and what you’re capable of when thrust right out of your comfort zone. I’ve been thinking a lot about my life, what I’m doing and what’s important to me. Living for that brief moment among the Ambonese, talking to them and trying to understand their ways have made me re-assess my own lifestyle, re-align my perspectives. God is truly fair, I see that now. All the locals I’ve met and talked to have impacted me in one way or another and I can’t help telling them over and over again just how incredibly lucky they are to live in a place that looks like heaven. They are fascinated by my fascination — perhaps it is refreshing for them to see their world as they have always known it, through foreign eyes. Sometimes I am so desperate for them to see what I see, I snap a picture and show it to them and they say, “Wow, that’s beautiful, where was it taken?” and I want to laugh and say, “Right at your doorstep!”

During my short visit to Seram Island, I had the absolute pleasure of befriending a group of school girls aged 10-12. Despite the slight language barrier, the conversations I’ve had with them were by far the most delightful, mature and stimulating I’ve ever had with kids of that age group. They were curious about the education system in Singapore and job prospects for females, something that I’ve never given much thought to. I’m sure gender inequality occurs pretty much everywhere but having never really experienced or been too bothered about it, the issue just revolves around textbook theories and insignificant statistics in my mind, yet it is something that is obviously real to them here, something that they have had to live with. I asked them what they wanted to be when they grew up, and almost all of them mentioned something about being a good wife/mother first, before considering a job that compliments their future husbands’.

I mentioned to one of the girls that my ex-domestic helper was a very young Indonesian girl who enjoyed traveling, and suddenly they were all clamouring around me, asking what her pay and job scope was like and wondering aloud how great it must be to get to live in a cosmopolitan city like Singapore. When I converted for them the average pay of a domestic helper in Singapore, one of the girls looked at me shyly and asked, “Ka Nadia, beta bisa jadi pembantu di sana kaseng?” (Ka Nadia, can I be a domestic helper there?), followed by eager nods from her friends and murmurs about how rich they could be and I was simply caught off-guard because here was a job that so many of us tend to look down upon, a profession in which there have been countless reported cases of abuse, and possibly more of unreported ones — and yet there these girls were, with their bright young eyes looking at the very same job as a chance at a better future. A chance at possible wealth. Wealth? I almost scoffed. Part of me wanted to hug them and say, oh gosh, have you actually looked around you? Your seas brimming with fish and coral reefs, your forests full of fruits, your soils so fertile, skies of rain and sunshine, you are rich, you are just rolling in abundance, you are the truly dignified ones, superior to any Singaporean! I am humbled and jealous, for how Nature has favoured and pampered you. Truly there is so much potential surrounding Maluku, it is a mere question of whether they have the capacity (or more importantly, the desire?) to turn it all into material wealth for themselves… before someone else does it for them.

Waiting for the school bus.

Boys of Desa Batu Merah playing in the early evening drizzle.

Oma.

So I’m back home, physically at least. My heart and mind are still in that dream-like transition somewhere between the beautiful stories of deep blue seas and rolling hills, and the happiness of simply being back home. Will continue to update this space with more visuals and reflections from the journal I’ve been diligently scribbling in, but for now… recuperation. The bed (mattress) beckons!

The remaining homes.

Mosque amidst the rubble.

Reconstruction.

You can see the bottom corner of this house “shaved” off by the impact.

Ivy holding up a soiled telekong (prayer garment).

The sign reads, “Accepting scrap material (from destroyed homes)”.

Updates:

1. Have been slightly, slightly under the weather lately. The usual — stuffed nose, sore throat, headache, a little feverish. F made me take some Redoxon so hopefully that’ll help a little. Heard the H1N1 epidemic is worsening back home. The UN has started distributing flu kits among the staff here but so far there has been no case reported. Hopefully it remains this way.

2. Went for dinner with F and the manager of Telkomsel, Lonely (yes, it’s his real name) last night. We made plans to take a plane to Banda sometime next week when F will hopefully get a few days leave and when Lonely gets back from Makassar. We’ll probably stay with Litha’s cousin there. I am very excited about this. Banda sounds so exotic.

3. Made a new friend! I was walking back from the office, took a wrong turn and found myself in the compound of someone’s house. Turned out a little girl lives there with her mother. Her name is Olivia, she’s 10 and completely adorable. She was on a school break so I asked her mum if I could take her out for dinner. We took a bus to the city and to AmPlaz, where we had… KFC, sigh. She had a lot of fun going down the escalator (the one going up was spoilt), over and over and over again. Then we played at the arcade for a while before I sent her back home. Met her neighbour, a guy named Simpson, who sent me back on his motorbike and offered to take me to Pintu Kota tomorrow morning so I’ll have to wake up extra early to get the laundry done first.

4. Am in a hotel lobby now, fully exploiting the free wifi here. Time check: 3:10AM. I better get back.

Awesome, awesome kids. They’ve been showing me around, educating me on what’s cool and what’s not among Ambon teenagers (granted I’m no longer a teenager, but you know what they say… if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em). So far I’ve learnt that I should spend more time hanging out at AmPlaz — Ambon Plaza, the local and only “mall” — instead of the wet markets, my hair is “fine, but don’t you comb it?” and that my photographer vest is definitely not helping with my street cred.

It’s not easy.

Where the Ambonese go during the weekends.

I am often thrown way off-guard by the “seng apa-apa” (never mind) or “bear akang” (let it be) attitude of the people here, it’s as though anyone, armed with a smile, can get away with almost anything. Not that I’m complaining, of course, since it’s helped me on several occasions. I guess the MP was right about Ambon being very different from Jakarta; trust comes so easily. Crime rate is so low, I walk the streets late at night worrying about nothing more than crazy dogs.

So the gist of what happened yesterday:

I was “arrested” for trespassing and photographing government property — well, the Parliament House, to be exact — then was escorted on a police motorbike to the Head of Office’s private house, where I played the silly, over-enthusiastic tourist, was offered tea (yet again), an apology, an invitation to the Parliament House again for a personal tour, and a ride on the same motorbike all the way home.

In other news, F returns tomorrow so we’ll get set for some World Day Against Child Labour activities.

I think this whole idea of the ‘sopan’ Javanese and the ‘kasar’ Ambonese is also evident in the languages both groups use. This might be a little boring if you don’t understand Malay or if you’re not into languages. The Javanese speak standard Bahasa Melayu Indonesia, which is pretty similar to the Malay I am used to (Malaysian Malay), and is considered more refined and pleasing to the ears. I think I might have acquired a somewhat passable Indonesian accent by now. I’m getting used to saying ‘kapan’ instead of ‘bila’ (when), ‘capek’ instead of ‘penat’ (tired), ‘kemarin’ instead of ‘semalam’ (yesterday), etc. It is the unique Ambonese dialect, though, that is particularly fascinating to me. When someone talks to me, it sometimes takes me a few seconds to run their words through my mind over and over again before finally getting it. The sentence structure and syntax can sometimes be more European than what is commonly used in the Archipelago.

Some pronouns:

I — Saya/Aku (Malay) — Beta (Ambonese)
You — Kamu/Awak — Ose/Ale/Os/Se (originated from the Portuguese ‘voce’)
We — Kita/Kami — Katong
They — Mereka — Dorang
You (plural) — Kalian — Kamong

To address a female: Usi, Kaka, Nona, Caca, Nyong, Ibu, Tante, Oma
To address a male: Bu, Kaka, Mas, Om, Nyong, Babang, Pak, Opa

What you call a person (before finding out their name) depends on their gender, age, whether they appear to be married or not, social status and religion. Of course I don’t think I will ever remember when to use which term.

The Ambonese have a penchant for shortening everything, for example:

apa lagi (what else) becomes ‘apalai’
bagaimana lagi (how else) becomes ‘baemanalai’
lebih baik lagi (even better) becomes ‘labebailai’
sudah baik lagi (already good again) becomes ‘subaelai’
anak pelihara (adopted child) becomes ‘anapiara’

Also, adding a ‘g’ to words that end with ‘n’:

Jangan makan ikan (Don’t eat fish) becomes ‘jang makang ikang’
teman malam (night friend) becomes ‘tamang malang’
pakaian (clothes) becomes ‘pakeang’
setahun (a year) becomes ‘sataong’

Interesting.