Thursday 31st January

Before we left for Jakarta yesterday, Yana called me and said that I should quickly go the volleyball court again as a master healer was in attendance. The usual healer was a mere helper today. I rushed from the internet cafe and puffed my way up the hill to my village, to my kampung. There was a big crowd. The man who had had a stroke was still siting on a chair among the seated hordes on mats. The same old arthritic ladies were there, some more tonsil cases had turned up and the same familiar faces were still watching from the sidelines.

I waited expectantly among the seated people on mats. A family group was summoned and the daughter was taken to lie down on a mat. I asked my neighbour what the problem was but could make nothing of the answer she gave. I did gather though that there was something amiss with her stomach. The healer guessed correctly that the couple had five daughters and that this one was the youngest one. He also made a special point of saying to everyone that he had never met these people before and asked them to verify this. The patient was given something to drink, jerking movements were made to her stomach and then some power entered the woman. It was so strong that one of the helpers was thrown backwards. Was this staged? Who knows.

The healer then put his mouth on the woman's stomach and 'collected' something from it, which he then spat into a plate. Everyone rushed to have a look. He continued 'gathering' while her family watched on in tears. The plate was then carried around for everyone to see what had been taken out. I was curious. Would I see blood or blobs of flesh or what? When I saw about a dozen old nails I was quite disappointed. I mean, how could these have got in to her in the first place. Let alone out again ...passing like osmosis through the skin. I started to think of the Copperfield fellow, the brilliant magician. I suspected that we were on similar territory.

Before a few more tonsils could be removed, four of the helpers caught a woman who had suddenly lunged forward. Was it divine providence that they were all so close at the appropriate moment? The woman was manhandled to the ground and her family were seated on a facing mat. The crowd was visibly shaken and moved away as much as they could. The healer and the helpers stroked and calmed the woman down. I heard someone near to me say that something had 'entered' the woman. I was unsure as to whether it had happened just then or earlier. Perhaps going to these gatherings is not such a good idea if this had happened there! Anyway, after three interesting manouvers where the woman either flew from or was thrown up by the aides she was pronounced free and lucid again. End of performance. All were told to return again tomorrow.

Wednesday 30th January

The next few days are going to be very busy. Yana and I will be catching the train to Jakarta this evening as he has his interview for a partner migration visa at the Australian Embassy early tomorrow morning. we have been working flat out assembling all the appropriate information. We now have three portfolios, all filled with forms, letters, photos, receipts, wedding invitations and any other scrap of paper that prove we have been living together. We even had to write about our relationship, when it started, where and how it developed. This in itself is virtually a novel. All in all the whole project must rate equally with a phd!

My tourist visa expires tomorrow. Wonderful timing. So I will be flying to Batam at 4:30 and then catching the jetfoil to Singapore. Yes I know there are direct flights, and they are cheaper too. However I was given such a bad time when I entered Immigration at Jakarta last time that I have decided to opt for a softer port of entry. The official in Jakarta had said that I wouldn't be allowed in next time, because I was misusing the tourist visa. He then went on to say that it wasn't so easy for him to enter my country. He need not have bothered telling me, Yana and I are more than aware how difficult it is for Indonesians to enter Australia. Still I hope that wasn't why he was giving me a hard time entering his country.

My problems do not stop here. There has been so much rain in Jakarta recently that the roads regularly flood. This in turn has caused massive traffic jams. I perhaps am being a little selfish but I am concerned about geeting to the airport on time. I suppose I should be thinking about the eight people who have died because of the heavy rain. One man was electrocuted, a girl drowned, and six people were killed in a landslide. Then there are the 10,000 people who have been evacuated from their houses. I suppose there are a goodly number of people who are still living in their flooded houses. Perhaps they have moved up into the second storey or a loft. Perhaps they are lucky the water may only be thigh deep or if they are very lucky, just up to their ankles!

A lot of Jakarta is under sea level, but then so is much of Holland. I have not heard reports of the Dutch complaining that residential areas flood every time it rains. Jakarta, initially, was a very well planned city. Even now there is a Jakarta Master City Plan. Green belts and vital catchment areas were earmarked. Unfortunately the plan has regularly been violated and the city is now reaping the consequences. Perhaps it wasn't fully understood why certain areas needed to be put aside, so when a developer offered a large bribe, building permission was granted. This alone is serious enough but when combined with the Indonesian habit of throwing rubbish in rivers, a city then finds itself aflow in a sea of filthy rubbish strewn water. Diarhoea, cholera and similar illnesses are bound to follow.

Tuesday 29th January

My lovely Colorado sandals split the other day. A sad moment as I had found them very comfortable. Shoes are always a problem for women who are over six feet tall. Living in Indonesia makes it doubly difficult. There are some superb shoes to be found, and at reasonable price, providing you are very small and short. I gave up going to shoe shops some time ago as there wasn't a flat heel to be found. Nowhere. Every woman in this country is apparently desperate to appear taller. Some girls stagger about on platforms that are so high that their stride is affected. I suspect that these shoes are probably life threatening. Positively dangerous. In the end I settled for a pair of man's sandals. They are too wide for my feet but they will do for the interim. I have to walk carefully down hills as I slip and slide. Who said that high heeled shoes were dangerous?

Footware is an interesting study in Indonesia. Many men, generally the lower class selfemployed people, just wear rubber thongs or flip flops. Labouring men, particularly those on work sites who carry bamboo poles with baskets of sand at each end often wear nothing on their feet at all. Street children and many beggars also go without shoes. School children on the other hand can sometimes be seen wearing very expensive looking sport shoes with their uniforms. Indonesian women who work in banks and offices wear tiny little suits and immaculate shoes with big heels that are always polished and look like new. There is not a scuff mark in sight. I find this amazing as the streets of Indonesian cities are filthy. How they do it?

I returned to Bu Deli, the healer, yesterday. Wina accompanied me although I paid close attention to the route that was taken so that I could possibly go independently next time. The house didn't smell so damp and I felt much more comfortable. Bu Deli was not so extreme either. No strange voices this time or perhaps I was getting used to it all. I felt somewhat comforted by her stroking techniques and as a counsellor she was very supportive, in an unorthodox way. I don't know about her medical expertise but I felt much better for the visit. This week is a very busy one for me and the stress of it all had been building up within me. She helped me put a few things into perspective. I will return.

Monday 28th January

Indonesians do not have a good reputation throughout Asia. I had been warned a few months ago that Yana would have difficulty finding a bed in cheaper dormitory accomodation in Singapore. Indonesians were no longer welcomed because there had been so many cases of them stealing from their roommates. The recent riots by Indonesians protesting the arrest of their fellow countrymen for drug offenses in Malaysia have not helped either. Malaysia responded by saying that Indonesians would be placed at the bottom of the list for future employment opportunities. With such a high rate of local unemployment this is the last thing that Indonesia needs.

Noted Muslim scholar Nurcholish Madjid commented on the poor profile Indonesians enjoyed at the annual meeting of the Muhammadiyah, a large Muslim organisation. He said that not only did Indonesia lag behind in finance, culture and education but also in morality and mentality. The audience was apparently visibly shocked at these words. It certainly earned front page coverage in the Jakarta POst. The scholar also commented that he was very embarrassed that Indonesian officials from CGI, or the Consultative Group Indonesia, came begging for money from donor countries in Mercedes Benz cars while the donors used the subway. It certainly didn't look good.These things do not go unnoticed.

While I was waiting with my neighbours for the healer to appear at the volleyball court the other day an old lady had said to me that Indonesians like money and nice things but didn't like to work for them. I can't recall what lead to this comment but she found it very amusing. I don't know whether it really is all that funny. She probably has a point though. Easy money is what many people are after.

The local newspaper Pikiran Rakyat, has an active letters column to which people send complaints about poor service or faulty products, berate people who have stolen their bikes or handphones and sometimes tell stories of deception. One woman wrote about her house searching experiences. Through an advertisement she found a house that suited her, paid a deposit, organised to put the remaining money in a bank account and awaited to receive the key. It then transpired that the people whom she had dealt with didn't own the house and now she was 28 million rupiah poorer. She wrote that she hoped that the people involved would use the money for a good cause, for a charity, perhaps. I would imagine that this would be highly unlikely. Robin Hoods are thin on the ground these days.

Sunday 27th January

Ca-ca's mother, Wina, took me, along with her two children, to her 'healer' today. Ca-Ca and her brother both needed help with minor ailments and I of course need help with something a lot bigger. Wina rarely goes to a doctor because she has found that they usually are unable to do much. I was surprised to hear her say this as she is a middleclass woman with a very good secretarial position. I expected such views from the poor people who live in kampungs but not her. She apparently was very happy with her dealings with this woman, whose name I have forgotten, and returned to her regularly.

Our destination was an ordinary house with an awful damp smell. All the ceilings were flecked with grey spots. It struck me as a rather unhealthy atmosphere. The healer was a loud, confident person who ushered me into a bedroom that was only wide enough to fit a double bed. The smell of damp in this windlowless room was even stronger than in the living room. I did not feel comfortable. The woman then closed her eyes and continued to speak without opening her eyes. Her personality became even more loud and somewhat brash. She said I would live for years and I must disregard my doctors and the blood tests. They were obviously wrong. If my cancer was that serious I would already have been dead some months ago! I tried to explain the marvels of chemotherapy but I don't think that I got far. She concluded by saying that I didn't have cancer, well not a serious cancer, but that I had kidney problems.

I didn't run out of the house leaping with joy. I doubt that my problem is one of misdiagnosis. Unfortunately! I did take to heart her comments about my kidneys because organ damage does occur as a result of chemotherapy. Meanwhile this woman wants me to return tomorrow and not go to anybody else in the interim. I will, but more out of curiousity than faith. Fortunately she is not completely against modern practices and said that I should have another blood test shortly to see if her treatment was working. That sounded fair enough.

Such an option was not offered to a middleaged couple that I had read about in the paper the other day. They had been trying to have a child for years but with no success so they approached a 'dukun'. (a person who uses magic) Ointments were rubbed on the woman's stomach and it became large, just as if she was pregnant. Considerable amounts of money were paid for this ointment and they were warned not to go to a doctor. After nine months they came to the dukun for the birth. The woman recalled fainting and then awakening to find a baby at her feet. She cuddled the long awaited baby for ten minutes before realising that it wasn't moving. The parents then became suspicious and reported the case to the police. The dukun had apparently stolen the dead baby from a nearby birthing centre. It had died during childbirth. Who would play such a trick on a desperate couple? The court judge was also not impressed with the dukun's behaviour. Hopefully the trickster will be out of action for a long time.

Saturday 26th January

We had driven via Purwakarta on our way to Jakarta on Wednesday and had obviously picked our day well. The following day there was a massive riot, right on the main road, three cars were burnt out and two people were shot by stray police bullets that were supposed to disperse the crowds. Traffic was disrupted for twelve hours and people had to make huge detours. We would have had to return to Bandung and start the whole trip again through the Puncak route.

The disturbance started when a female worker returning from overseas, on reaching her destination and home, was asked for more money by the minibus driver who had brought her from Jakarta. The woman had complained to some people around her and they had pursued the extorter, stopped him and taken him to the police. A crowd had built up by this point and they then demanded that the man be returned to them so they could handle the situation themselves. The police refused and a riot resulted.

There have been massive problems with this type extortion for months if not years and nothing has ever been done about it. The women work very hard overseas for two years in places like Saudi or Arab Emirates, receive a smallish wage and then when they return home there are packs of sharks waiting at every turn to relieve them of what they have worked so hard for. A comment was made that a special exit had been made for the overseas workers so that they wouldn't be ripped off by immigration! but this meant that they all left together at the same place and were then tricked en mass. Taxi drivers ask for exhorbitant fares to the bus depots and it just got worse from there. I never catch a taxi from the airport, as there is a perfectly reasonable bus that does the trip for $AUS 1. I wonder whether these women are aware of what is happening as they tend to be simple village girls. One would have hoped that the companies that make huge profits sending these girls overseas would also check that they arrived back to their own doorstep safely.

Not much has happened on the healing front yet. I went back again to the volleyball court this morning and waited impatiently, with half the population of the village, for the healer himself to arrive. When he finally did come it was a real performance, with jokes being thrown in all directions. I wondered if this was what it was like in the middle ages when 'healers' came to town. He helped some people with tonsil problems, a lady with a hearing difficulty and a whole gaggle of women with rheumatics. Everyone was then asked to return the following day. It would seem, according to my friend Conchita, that his powers only work for about an hour. I was very disappointed. As the healer picks his patients arbitrarily it could take weeks before I was helped. If at all. Fortunately he will be there for a month. I only hope that I will be too.

Friday 25th January

The other day I arrived on young Ca-Ca's doorstep ready to give her my last English lesson. I rang the doorbell and then answered a call on my handphone. A friend gave me words of courage and support. My eyes started to water. By the time the door opened I was standing there like a blubbering giant. Ca-Ca then took me to her grandfather and asked whether I would like some therapy. She had mentioned on the last occasion that he was able to help sick people by using a piece of wood. My mind had boggled and I had meant to follow it up anyway. On agreeing, I was asked to lie down in front of a window with the most magnificent vista over banana palms and other greenery. Grandfather, a dear old man, who was very deaf then started to do some reflexology on my foot.

This was not my first encounter with reflexology as I had received some sessions a year or so ago. The practice is very popular in Indonesia and claims to cure a huge number of sicknesses, ranging from high blood pressure, to diabetes and rheumatism. Advertisements are regularly delivered from house to house or pasted on the doors of the little public transport vans. Doctors are not highly respected in this country and so people will often try everything else, be it reflexology, a traditional healer, black magic or whatever comes their way.

Grandfather Yusuf taught himself to use reflexology twenty years ago. He had been suffering from a severe case of colitis that the doctors had not been able to cure. After a month of constant application he said that he was cured and he suggested that I also try to administer the technique to my self. I could then do it a number of times a day and it would obviously be a lot cheaper. He was more than happy to teach me and gave me some books to get photocopied. Ah the joys of a lax photocopying regime!

Today I enthusiastically fronted up again for another session. Grandfather Yusuf then proceeded to use a very pointy wooden instrument, quite different from the one he used the other day, and subjected me to an hour of complete and utter torture. I now feel absolutely drained and exhausted. It would appear that my body is a complete mess and so most organs need to be given some pressure. The pain is like being stabbed with a knife, not that I have had the experience, but it is well nigh impossible to bear. I now recall why I had not resumed sessions when I had returned to Indonesia in August.

Thursday 24th January

We, four of us, Yana and I, my Dutch friend Conchita and Jerry, an Indonesian friend, headed off by car to Bekasi yesterday. Conchita thought that we were going to a picturesque village set amid some green hills, and was quite astounded to find herself in a dirty, noisy, crowded urban area that is really, as far as I am concerned, still part of Jakarta. The drive should only take three hours but took more than five. Just outside Bandung and Jakarta there is a motorway for a while but inbetween there is little other than a country road with one lane going in each direction. Road transport seems to be the way that everything is moved around Java and so the road is full to overflowing with small, slow trucks that belch out nasty amounts of black smoke. I wonder whether the leaders of this country ever travel by road. I doubt it because if they experienced what we had they would soon make some big changes.

Our goal was to visit a 'paranormal' person whom Yana had seen on television. This man is supposedly able to transfer cancer from the sick person to a goat. Yes, you may well laugh at all of this. Impossible you may say. It certainly is unorthodox. I am still going to give it a go. The doctors in Australia can only offer me chemotherapy, to which I may or may not respond anymore as I have already had a few courses. It sounds as though I could also need chemo almost constantly from now on. I only stopped my tablets six weeks ago and so have had a very short treatment free period. My future prospects are not pleasant. I should give all alternatives a try, I have nothing to lose.

I wasn't able to have the goat treatment straight away but will return next week as Yana and I have to go to Jakarta again anyway. The healer, pak Hariyono, won the award for paranormal of the year in 1999. He has been on television on a number of occasions and seems to operate in the public limelight. One would imagine that if he is a complete charlatan this fact would have emerged some time ago. If nothing else, it will be very interesting.

Just a few hundred metres from where I live another healer set up a tent this morning. His timing was perfect. I need as much healing as I can get my hands on. I went with Bu Empon, my landlady this morning to watch the initial demonstration. Nearly the whole Kampung was there. It was worth watching too. One man apparently had a tumour in his back so they put some twisted paper in a glass tumbler. The glass was placed over the apropriate area and with suction stayed put. Gradually it filled with blood right in front of our eyes. The healer, who had wandered off to help others in the interim, returned, took off the glass, showed everyone the blood and then fished out a lump which was presumably the tumour. I will back on Saturday. I will keep you posted.

Wednesday 23rd January

As well as having fears for Indonesia I now have a new fear, a fear for my own personal survival. I would like to be concerned about the difficult job Megawati has in front of her. How she has to tread so carefully that she doesn't offend the more extreme Islamic groups. If she shows firmness then uprisings and unrest could follow. Doing nothing is also not a solution, as there are other groups that are gradually becoming more and more frustrated and exasperated. Either way, the future looks grim.

I may have to follow political happenings in this country from further afield. I had hoped to stay here till the end of March but it won't happen now. The cancer is moving at a very fast rate and I have to think very seriously about leaving for Australia in the next few weeks. I can't come to a definite date yet. I can't really plan from one week to the next. I have to take it day by day.

I can't seem to concentrate on the Indonesia that is to be found around me. Perhaps it is because I know I will have to go. I want to look at the streets, see all the people, enjoy the Indonesian language to be found everywhere on signs, and just keep seeing it all forever. Indonesia has atmosphere, it has a distinct smell and has its own sounds. Australia is bland in comparison.

I now have an inkling of how people who are forced to leave their country must feel. The Dutch colonials when they left Indonesia for the cold and grey of Holland must have felt that they were leaving part of themselves behind, as would the Whites in Africa who walked away from the farms in which they had invested their lives. These of course are insignificant in number when compared with the indigenous people all over the world that have been forced to pick up the few things that they can carry and then head off into the unknown. The Kosovans, Rwandans and Afghanis being just a few examples. I really can't complain, I could well be back soon.

Tuesday 22nd January

I fear for Indonesia. I think things may just get worse and worse here. Many large companies are moving away and few new ones are replacing them. Understandable really. Why should any business show an interest in an unstable country with such a high level of corruption and inconsistent laws? In the interim the saga continues. Yesterday a parliamentary meeting which had to decide on whether or not to hold an inhouse enquiry on Akbar Tanjung was attended by only half of the incumbent members. It is said that many parties, including Megawati's party PDI, received money from the Bulog funds and so are now concerned that they will also be implicated. They are not at all happy at the prospect of an investigation.

Many support Akbar, but very few do so for appropriate reasons. A group of 40,000 Golkar supporters from wartorn Aceh are presently in Jakarta to defend Akbar's right to go to Mecca. The man is a suspect in a law case and therefore is technically not allowed to leave the country. Interestingly, Golkar legislators and businessmen paid the fares for the 40,000. I hope they didn't use the illegally obtained Bulog funds! I would have thought that these people would have had a lot more relevant and important things to protest about that are a little closer to their home. Aceh is in chaos. Perhaps they just welcomed a holiday from the local unrest and so joined the 'rent a crowd' circus.

An car park attendant at parliament had commented that the cars belonging to the politicians looked as though they were part of a luxury car exhibition. No ordinary kijangs here I gather! It would seem that the leaders of the country have become quite blatant in their excesses and then, as a final insult, don't even turn up to do their work. Has no-one explained to them that they are supposed to represent the people? Disgruntled people could well start to protest shortly.

I wonder what the poor woman who was photographed in her flooded house in today's Jakarta Post, would have thought if she saw the homes of her prepresentatives. She was captured walking through water that came to the top of her legs, in her kitchen! She and many thousands of others are not enjoying the present wet conditions. Many residents say that they are more than used to it, as their houses always flood if there is more than an hour of rain, but that doesn't make the situation right.

Monday 21st January

Weddings, weddings. It is now the season for getting married. It makes sense. People don't get married during the fasting month. This year all the big celebrations of Idul Fitri, Christmas and New Year came close together. Obviously people are not going to have a wedding at this time of the year. Servants have gone home, many are away and everything has closed down. People wait till it is all over. That time has now arrived.

Once the wedding is over, people start to look forward to the birth of a baby and then the celebrations that take place forty days after a baby has been born. It is a foregone conclusion that all these marriages will bear fruit in nine months time. Families are now much smaller than ever before but people do expect to have some children. It is almost unheard of that a couple would chose not to have children.

It may sound as though life here is a continual sequence of celebrations. Things do not always go smoothly, though, as Indonesia has the highest rate of maternal deaths in childbirth for the whole of Asia. 323 women in every 100,000 do not survive the experience. A number of reasons are given for this. Many women, particularly in country areas, are still very young, too young, in fact. Women often encounter difficulties but as it is the man who decides when and if they will go to hospital, things can get out of hand before the urgency of the situation is appreciated. Even if the prospective mother is taken to a medical facility, the services and equipment may not really be adequate. Other people may be reluctant to seek medical assistance because they are still probably paying off the wedding costs.

Back to the wedding. Yesterday's reception was quite different from the last two Yana and I had attended. It was held outside Bandung, way past Cimahi and it's old colonial army post and hospital, and in a farming area of ricepaddies and fruit trees. We had to walk down a muddy track to a simple house with a seating area covered with large sheets of plastic. A band in traditional clothing was playing gamelan on a makeshift stage. It started to rain, and heavily too, so when the water started to collect in pockets, someone had to get a stick and push the water up and guide it out to an edge. There were leaks everywhere and the sheets didn't quite overlap so things became quite damp. People sat in carefully chosen spots with trickles of water coming down in front of them , behind them and to the side of them. Quite entertaining really.

Sunday 20th January

I arrived home yesterday to find that the small open square in front of my yardless house had been enclosed by a canvas roof. I wondered whether there was to be another wedding, although we hadn't received any invitations. For a moment I was quite piqued. Fancy omitting Yana and I from the guest list! Particularly if the reception was to take place one metre from our front door. I could only see one person around, an unfamiliar face. Would he know what was going on? He may have only been selling Bakso but I couldn't see a little stove. I asked anyway. He quickly explained that it was to be a celebration for a person who was going to Mecca. An Islamic going away party.

I was awoken at an early hour, this morning, by the sounds of lots of voices together with the metallic clang of fold-up chairs being unfolded. Then some very loud arabic music started. I could well have been in Cairo. A little later, in hot pursuit of my phone, I strided into my living room with its wall to ceiling windows. Out of curiousity I looked out the window, but then stopped in my tracks, as I was in full view of a whole lot of people. They were all dressed in their best Muslim clothes and almost all the women wore a head covering. I looked down at myself. I was wearing my scanty sleeping attire and immediately felt very underdressed. I moved away very quickly. It would seem that there are times that you can't even walk around freely in your own home!

Even leaving my house was not easy. I, apologising profusely, had to pass in front all the guests. Fortunately they were still just chatting amongst themselves, as the formal part of the ceremony had not yet begun, but Conchita, my good friend, who left the house a little later was not quite so lucky. A very long prayer had started and she didn't know quite what to do. She waited ten minutes and then realised that things could go on for some time yet. In the end she moved through with her back bowed. trying to make herself as small as possible. Hopefully we will be forgiven.

The head of the mosque asked where I was going, and it seemed that they were surprised that I wasn't going to stay and join in. Fortunately I had a legitimate destination. I was off to another wedding, as a sister of one of the Moritz guys was getting married in Cimahi. I had actually been told about this wedding weeks and weeks ago and had completely forgotten. Just as well we had visited the backpacker hostel Moritz last night for a bit of socialising and had been duly reminded. I was quite excited at the prospect of more tasty wedding food.

Saturday 19th January

Last night I saw something which angered me immensely. I still don't know what could be done about it, if anything. Three young children, all under five, had been placed about three metres apart on the very busy edge of the road near the Bandung Indah Plaza shopping complex. Children often beg here, on their own, and it has always amazed me that they stay still. Heavy traffic passes just one meter away from them. On this occasion it was raining and the children were wet and shivering. They didn't even look at the passers by. They were curled up like small balls and looked quite miserable. Large tins, probably old coffee tins, were placed in front of each child.

What sort of parents exploit their children like this? It is bad enough that these children are made to beg during fine weather conditions. Placing them out there on a wet night like this struck me as unforgiveable. Were they hoping for more money? A sympathy donation? It put me in a quandry, as I wondered whether putting money in the tins would reinforce the parent's actions so they would continue to do use their children in such a way. Should I give one of the children my umbrella? Which of the three? Should I group the three together to share the one umbrella? Would three angry mothers come suddenly out of nowhere and separate the three children again? I even wondered what would happen if I asked the children to come with me. I could even try to whisk them away in a taxi but I knew that they probably wouldn't feel safe with a very tall white person. What would I do with them? In the end I did nothing.

None of this would have happened in the first place if people hadn't given money to children who beg. Granted, it is upsetting to see a grubby young child with bare feet, clothes that have been outgrown, and a sad face. Of course people feel sorry for these children and so they should. Their basic human rights are being violated. Giving money will not rectify anything. It only leads the child to a lifetime of begging. Unfortunately, the parents of begging children are now very used to the incomes that children can bring in.

Anna, an English woman who works with street children, said that sometimes parents beat their children if they don't bring home enough money. Many then run away from home. They soon realise that they will have more money for themselves if they don't have to share it with others. Unaware people, often foreigners, have created this problem. Innocently, they give children money that far exceeds the family's daily income. To the giver it is a paltry amount. To the family it is so significant that the parents often stop working. Why work when your children can earn five times as much for you?

Friday 18th January

Tommy Soeharto and his lawyers are very clever, and are obviously up to something at present. Over the last few weeks a number of people who performed deeds for the son of the former president have received jail sentences ranging from two years to five years. Apparently when they were given the opportunity to present a defense in court they refused to do so. One person commented that they all had the same, glazed facial expression. Are they being paid huge amounts of money to say as little as possible? If you are not overly well off it may be even worthwhile, for you and your family, if you go to jail for a few years, providing of course that the remuneration is sufficiently attractive. It could be like working overseas which many poor Indonesian do anyhow.

Hetty, the woman who managed the Soeharto owned apartments in which Tommy's guns and ammunition were found has been sentenced to jail for five years. Her crime was one of possession of illegal goods. She was certainly aware of the existence of the goods and had moved them from one place to another at her boss' bidding. Did she actually possess them? Any good lawyer would surely have looked closely at her involvement, and would had been able to argue that she was following instructions. Leniency may have been pleaded. It seemed odd that this did not take place.

The bodyguard who had organised the forging of Tommy's passport has received two year's jail. Is he the criminal or is the person who wanted the forged documents the criminal? If a person has a lot of money they can realise all their plans without once getting their hands dirty. It would seem that in this case the intermediary then also has to take all the blame.

Newspaper coverage of these stories is not very clear or detailed. I find this worrying. Does this mean that very little publicity is being given to the cases? Is it all being kept fairly quiet? Deliberately, so? Tommy has not been tried yet and I have just read that some of the papers filed against him have been rejected as inadequate. Meanwhile the man who supposedly shot the lawyer who had sentenced Tommy to jail, is facing a sentence of premiditated murder. Who premeditated it all? Was it the man they have in custody or was it Tommy? I do hope that the whole story will be investigated fully. I won't hold my breath though.

Thursday 17th January

On one of our rides past Jeans street the other day I spotted a woman wearing a very scanty, cutback t-shirt. She caught my attention because women just don't expose their shoulders in Java. I surmised that she must have been a visitor, although she was not a westerner. Local Indonesian females often, in fact very often, wear close-fitting jeans or trousers and tight t-shirts, but you never see bare shoulders. Obviously if you were near the beach things would be more relaxed but in the cities this would seem to be the unwritten dress code. Most western women who live in Bandung or Jakarta have modified their dress accordingly. Tourists are sometimes not quite as perceptive and I occasionally cringe at their brief attire. I feel that one must respect the mores of the country that you are in.

One night, when I had first arrived in Bandung a number of years ago, I recall being very confused by the revealing clothes worn by a number of attractive women, down near jalan Sumatera . I guessed that the women were prostitutes but was surprised that their skimpy clothes were tolerated in public places.It was a muslim country after all. Yana and his mates stirred them mischieviously and then whispered to us that they were actually lady boys. I was stunned. These 'men' were very beautiful. The occasional ladyboy can be seen during the day, their clothing still flamboyant but not quite as risque. Business has obviously been so bad for a few that they occasionally join the buskers at the traffic lights.

Meanwhile, an increasing number of Indonesian women are wearing a jilbab and long sleeved shirts. Some still wear jeans with the headcovering, whereas others wear long plain dresses.The jilbabs fascinate me as they are always very clean, wrinkle-free and the pins are perfectly placed. They are never crooked. They always look as though a lot of time and care was taken to put them on. Young girls sometimes have to wear jilbabs to school but they wear the variety with elastic that is stretched around the back of the head. These are much easier to put on. I sometimes wonder how hot it must be underneath. Bandung would be just bearable but Jakarta and Surabaya would be almost intolerable at times.

Although Muslim clothing does seem to be generally worn by middleclass women, I did spot a woman working in a jilbab at my little market. A while ago I also saw a woman with a jilbab frying the West Javanese vegetable snack "bala bala" over a high flame. This actually struck me as quite dangerous and totally impractical. The women involved must have felt very strongly about what they were doing. Interestingly enough Soeharto did not encourage the wearing of the jilbab and its re-emergence has been a very recent phenomenon.

Wednesday 16th January

Indonesian people love to eat a soup called Bakso in the late afternoon. Bakso food carts, or portable Bakso stoves on bamboo poles, make their way around the streets and so people don't have to look for them. Hungry customers respond to the tapping call of the Bakso man and come out of their houses with bowls and spoons. If someone hasn't their own bowl then they can borrow one from the vendor. Once the bowl is filled with the hot soup, people often eat it out in the street. It seems almost a social ritual. The soup is spicy and has noodles and meat balls. These meat balls are of a very fine consistency and look almost like dumplings. I have never really taken to them as I continually wonder about the true ingredients. I will never be a real Indonesian because I don't like Bakso! My neighbours laugh when I say this to them.

Indonesian Food is not really high cuisine. When it is freshly cooked and hot, and particularly when you are hungry, it can be very tasty. Nonetheless there are not a great variety of dishes and it easily becomes quite repetitive. An American friend stated the other day that people lose weight when they come to Indonesia, not because of gastric problems, but because the food is so awful. I wouldn't go this far but will admit that the food can be a little uninspiring at times. It must become even less inspiring when your budget is very limited.

I asked my massage lady what she tended to cook for her family. She said that she can only afford rice, vegetables, tempe and tahu. One day she may cook vegetable soup and rice and the next day they may eat tempe, beans and rice. She tries to vary the menu as much as she can but it can be challenging. Eggs are out of her range, as is fish, chicken and meat. Her family's diet is spartan but I gather that there are many families in Indonesia who are living on just rice with a sprinkling of salt for flavour. Apparently some people can only afford one bowl a day.

The government is aware that many of the poor are struggling and have decided to distribute rice more cheaply to them. They have tried to do the same in the past but a lot of the rice was siphoned off to people who were not in need of aid and then the really poor missed out. It has also been said that only the very poor quality rice was being used and that the government was just trying to get rid of it cheaply to suit their own purposes.

Tuesday 15th January

We have a bird, a rather dirty coloured canary, called Bule. Bule is the word for 'white person' or westerner, and Yana refers to the bird as his little Bule, and to me as his big Bule. Indonesians like to put their bird cages outside during the day so that the birds can get some fresh air. Little Bule also enjoys this priviledge. Unfortunately it rains sometimes and we have to think ahead, as we both like to be out and about during the day, and put him somewhere that is sheltered but still outside. Yesterday I was home but not feeling overly well so I remembered to bring the front door mat inside when the rain started but I totally forgot about the bird.

When Yana came home later he was horrified to discover that his bird had been out in the wet. I felt guilty but it wasn't completely my fault. Who had forgotten to move him from the tree? Anyway there was no point in making a big issue of it. I doubt whether Little Bule will be forgotten again. Today the bird was dapper enough but not a chirp came from his beek. This is most unusual as he loves to sing in the mornings. I do hope that he is alright. I am not necessarily confident, as Yana and I don't have a good track record with pets. I let Norman, another bird, go free, accidentally, while Yana forgot to feed Bule's mate, another canary, who promptly died. A little kitten I rescued a year or so lost its will to live and also died even though I had desperately tried to feed it. All very upsetting.

Indonesians have a different taste in pets to most westerners. They love caged birds and quite like fish in an aquarium. Wild cats with big ears, tails of varying lengths and angular bodies, are to be found everywhere, particularly around rubbish tips, and occasionally a kitten is taken indoors to become a pet. A lot of men are very fond of roosters. They can be seen squatting outside their houses lovingly stroking the heads of their roosters. If a man needs to transport his rooster, from one place to another, there are special carrying baskets available just for this purpose. Dogs, however, are not so common.

Dogs are considered to be unclean by Muslims. Rabies was probably a real problem in the past and so dogs were kept away from if at all possible. A few dogs can be seen in most villages but they tend to be mangy and have a neglected look about them. They probably still carry a host of diseases. Wealthier people have guard dogs and they are treated as such. Every now and then you see a dog on a leash but they generally belong to westerners who employ Indonesians to walk them daily. Rarely does an Indonesian person have a dog and really treat it like a real pet.

Monday 14th January

Yana and I were whizzing through the streets of Bandung on the bike this morning, quite enjoying ourselves, until the light drizzle suddenly became a whole lot heavier. It was only just after ten in the morning, and we had been caught unawares as it doesn't usually rain till after noon. We were getting very wet, very quickly, so we decided to pull over and shelter till it eased somewhat. We joined and then were joined by a number of other people who were also unprepared for the downpour. All of us stood, squatted or sat silently in front of an expensive footwear shop. The rain didn't really ease for quite some time, at least half an hour or more, so I had a good chance to really look at everything very closely.

I watched an elderly man escort customers from the shop to their cars. Huddled under a big umbrella, he was full of smiles while he tried to be as helpful as possible. On shutting the car door, he then assisted them to reverse out of the parking area, and go back onto the road. I checked to see whether the people payed him coins or paper money for his services. I was pleased to see that he received at least five hundred or a thousand rupiah from each driver. I realize that most people would have been quite capable of doing everything themselves but this man also has to earn a living. In Indonesia you always have to keep this in mind. You almost have a responsibility to employ as many people or their services as you can.

Earning a living can be very hard so some people resort to illegal practices. Pirating of cassettes and CDs is rife here, as it is in other parts of Asia, so I was very surprised to hear that two Bandung men had received jail sentences of three years for selling copied CDs. I asked Yana about the case. He then explained that these traders had been selling copied CDs with songs from Indonesian singers. An Indonesian Musicians and Artists support group had recently asked for police action as many local performers are missing out on their royalties. Releases from foreign singers and overseas produced films are not Indonesia's concern and so their wholescale copying is not a problem. Or is it?

In Cambodia, which also has a lucrative market of copied CDs, pressure has come from the United States. The Cambodians were told that they would have to curb this burgeoning trade if they want to continue to have good relations and receive support in the future. I wonder whether Indonesia will be asked to do the same. I have often wondered whether the widespread copying could ever be controlled or stopped. However pressure from 'above' would probably be the only way. Does the US have sufficient clout to stop the practice in Indonesia? I wonder.

Sunday 13th January

My neighbours were busy yesterday getting things ready for what I presumed was today's wedding. A group of men were cutting and then joining the coconut palm leaves into the ornate wedding symbol that is placed outside the reception hall. The women, family members and neighbours together, were sitting outside, between the houses, chatting away freely while preparing various dishes of food. Despite the activity the mood was leisurely. It was nice to see a community working together. They even asked me if I wanted to join. I should have done so but was in dire need of a nap.

The invitations had been very impressive but the actual reception was not so big. I was pleased, as I had been overwhelmed by the scale of last week's affair. To me, it was pure exhibitionism. The money could surely have been put towards purchasing a house or something less transient than a lavish reception. Then again, I am not an Indonesian, and I probably don't understand the situation fully. Besides, I am a great minimalist, in all aspects of my lifestyle!

While Yana and I were tucking into a very tasty meal of rice, sate, meat and vegetables, there was an enormous cracking sound. We looked up just in time to see the ice sculpture, a common feature at receptions, split into a number of pieces and fall to the floor. A good number of skewered pieces of melon, pineapple and papaya joined the ice on the floor. There was a hushed silence and then after some hesitation a group of people gathered together the debris. No-one mopped the floor and so it stayed wet and then became steadily dirtier as more and more people walked over it. It answered one question for me. I had always wondered why the floors at receptions were always wet and slippery, and eventually dirty. It came from the melting ice. Today's incident had just speeded up the process.

Yana and I always enjoy finding out the identity of the wedding party. It has become almost a game to us. We recognise our neighbours by face and not by name. The invitations are inevitably delivered by a younger family member and we often have no idea at all as to who is getting married. On this occasion we didn't recognise the bride or groom, or not at first, but we certainly recognised the bride's father. He was the person who had helped build our outdoor room, our 'saung' upstairs. We were very pleased that we had decided to come as the bride's family would probably have been hurt if we hadn't made an appearance. It was no hardship to attend.

Saturday 12th January

If you go through the sidestreets or alleys of Bandung you will inevitably see a young man in a doorway somewhere gently strumming the strings of a guitar. Sometimes a group of young men will squat or cluster around one or two guitar players. Many young people are unemployed or underemployed and they have a lot of time on their hands. No wonder many of them play so well. Making music is also a cheap way to while away time. They generally play by ear and songs are learnt after a lot of experimentation. On occasions guitarists will face each other so that one leads and the other follows. Everybody seems to be born with a good voice too! I have rarely met a West Javanese person with a bad voice.

Bandung is well known throughout Indonesia for its artists and singers. Iwan Fals, a famous singer and song writer, was brought up in Dago, not too far away from where I used to live. One of the top rock bands at present, Jamrud, is also from Bandung. Yana and I attended one of their concerts some time ago. Their music is distinctive because of the lead singer's deep gravelly voice. The performance was magic and brought tears to my eyes. There are enough models out there for young people to see. Who knows, they too, may break it into the bigtime one day. Meanwhile many just have to be content singing a snippet of a wellknown song to the people in cars at the traffic lights.

Bali, and in particular Ubud, is well known for its painters. Many Bandung painters have gone there to live as there is a bigger market of buyers. Others have stayed in Bandung. In Siliwangi, there is an oasis of green, and a few artists have set up some galleries in traditional buildings amid the trees. From what I gather, rich Indonesians are more than ready to buy artwork although it does help if one has a wellknown name.

For the rest, aspiring artists, as they have to all over the world, combine their art with something that will earn them a bit of money to keep them going. They often dabble in crafts, make recycled paper books, recycled paper cards and calendars. These are then sold outside major shopping centres in improvised stalls at specific times of the year, like Lebaran, Christmas and the new year. Others sell second hand or new music tapes and CDs, ornaments or jewelery. It can't be an easy life.

Friday 11th January

Bu Mimin, my massage lady, informed me that the price of rice had gone up recently to over Rp.4,000 a kilo. Kerosene will go up soon, as will electricity and telephone charges. The petrol price increase will not really affect her directly, as only the well off have a car, but the cost of public transport may go up, so she will inevitably be affected in the end. This is not welcome news for the average Indonesian. They were struggling, from day to day, before all the price rises. She then told me that she wished that they still had Soeharto as president.

Bu Mimin doesn't seem to understand that it was Soeharto's actions, or that of his family and friends, that have have contributed greatly to the present predicament. If they hadn't been able to form monopolies, sign deals with overseas companies at ridiculously overinflated prices, open banks with little capital and so forth, the economy would have had a good foundation and may have been able to withstand the Asian crash. Instead of spending the money on helping the poor the country now has to pay off the debts that were caused by private individuals. Meanwhile, these same individuals are still living in considerable luxury.

There are a group of people who believe that the current chaos is actually been orchestrated by Soeharto sympathisers who would like to return to the old order. Who knows? Golkar, Soeharto's old party still holds far too much power and effectively blocked Gus Dur and, now, Megawati whenever she really wants to do something. Perhaps when they find what happened to the missing Bulog money some action will be taken against them. There are too many ex-Soeharto supporters in high positions and the country can't progress until something is done about removing them.

One wonders how long the average person is prepared to put up with the present conditions before there are riots again. It is often said that a hungry person is an angry person.

Thursday 10th January

I so enjoyed the rice cooked in a 'ketupat', a hand-woven, diamond shaped, palm leaf container that is served all over Indonesia for Idul Fitri, that Yana's mother made me some more the other day. She had gone to her home village for a short visit and while there had asked for some palm leaf to take back to Bandung for her daughter-in-law. On returning she then set about to weave the container and then cook some rice in it. I was very touched. I certainly prefer the taste to that of rice cooked in banana leaf, or lontong.

To be honest I never really liked rice, but I can now eat it once a day, and actually don't mind it. Indonesians eat rice for breakfast, lunch and in the evening as well, and really enjoy it. They admit that they simply have to eat rice every day and if they haven't eaten some, then they don't feel full. Yana's seven year old cousin Feby doesn't like rice, but I imagine she is a rarity. It must cause problems because rice is a staple, certainly in Java, and most meals are based around it.

Last night Yana and I rode all over central Bandung while trying to make up our mind about what we wanted to eat. Shops stay open till nine and so the city was full of cars, pedestrians and shoppers. Jeans street was still busy with music blaring, The Bandung Indah Plaza had its fair share of people while the market area near the station was almost abandoned. We passed the brightly coloured neon lights of Braga street with its nightclubs, up market restaurants and bars and then went northwards through the leafy, residential areas. We eventually settled for Padang food in a restaurant near Dago. Padang food, from Sumatra, is famous all over Indonesia. The shops are easily recognised because plates of food are stacked in a special way in the windows. We enjoyed a veritable feast, with rendang, a spicy, hot meat dish included, for approximately $2 Australian a head.

We could well have been lucky to eat at all as cooking has become a bit of a problem for many Indonesians. Lower class people tend to use kerosene for cooking but at present it is hard to get. It started when the government announced a price rise for the near future. Suddenly there was no kerosene left! Apparently traders were hiding stocks as they will get much more for it in a month or so. This is a punishable offence and the police have already located a few large supplies of hidden fuel. The greed of some!

Wednesday 9th January

Yesterday was another magnificent day, so I headed up to Ciumbuleuit for a swim at the aristocratic Bumi Sangkuriang. The hotel is straight out of the thirties with its curved, ivy clad walls and gracious garden setting. The city is not far away but as the hotel is built on the crest of a hill you can't see anything but trees and garden. It is as if the gardens go on for ever. Ciumbuleuit itself is an area of lovely houses set in beautiful gardens. It was a favourite residential location for the affluent Dutch in colonial times and is now popular with many expatriates and rich Indonesians. Houses don't come cheap though and can cost around one or two thousand American dollars a month!

While some live in comfort other people have nowhere to live at all. In Jakarta, a day or two ago, 3,000 residents were evicted from their shanty housing on the banks of the West Flood Canal in West Jakarta. Troops were used to help facilitate the process and it turned into an unpleasant situation. Stones were thrown by the resisting householders but to little avail as they were easily outclassed. Authorities announced that residents were given the grand sum of Rp.100,000 ($Aus 20)in compensation, although some deny having received it.

Apparently about 35,000 people have been evicted over the last year. A follow-up study at the end of last year revealed that at least half of the people returned to their home village and I would imagine that this is what the compensation money aims to do. It is just sufficient to buy tickets for a whole family on some of the oldest, most decrepit, non airconditioned buses. Some people had moved in with family and friends in various parts of the city, while others were living on the street or where ever they could. A number of families were experiencing considerable hardship and so children were being provided with food and help from a few central aid posts.

A recent spate of housefires has also increased the number of homeless. Housing in slum areas tends to be all clustered together so if there is a fire in one house it rapidly spreads and a whole district can quickly be engulfed. Fire trucks do come but often take a while to arrive and then they can't enter into the the narrow lanes of the slums. Valuable time is lost just gaining access. Hundreds upon hundreds of people have lost their homes and belongings in this manner. Jakarta is certainly a city of misery for many.

Tuesday 8th January

Indonesia is not really such a healthy place to live. I caught up with some English teachers the other day and noticed that a great deal of the conversation focused on illness. Hours can be spent discussing who has what disease. A number of our aquaintances were apparently suffering from a range of things including colds, stomach bugs and other exotica. One person had lost thirteen kilos over the last year. It isn't just the westerners who suffer. Yana has just recovered from the flu. In fact Indonesians are always concerned about unseasonal weather and suffer greatly when the dry season turns into the wet season. I always thought that you only got colds in cooler climes. Not true.

On the subject of sickness, some major diseases that have largely been eradicated in the western world are still to be found in Indonesia. Leprosy is one. According to recent surveys 14,647 cases have been reported in 14 provinces. I am not sure whether this means that there could be more cases if the whole of Indonesia is considered or if the disease is just to be found in 14 provinces. It is still a lot of people. Tuberculosis is also quite common and I appreciate why the Australian and American governments insist that long term visitors from Indonesia must have a comprehensive health test first.

Even malaria, which was largely eradicated in Java in the seventies, is back. Twenty deaths were reported in the Banyumas regency, east of Bandung, over the last six months period. Whole families have been affected but those who died tended to be sick and frail before contracting the disease. Authorities have attributed the rise in the disease to lack of cleanliness. Community prayer sessions have been held but I also hope that they deal with the source of the problem as well. Even in my house which has never had a mosquito problem I have noticed the presence of the odd buzzing intruder. I hope it isn't anything to worry about.

Mosquitoes also bring Dengue fever and I gather, from those that have experienced it, that this is a nasty disease. Potentially fatal, as well. In order to prevent Dengue, householders are urged by television advertisements, to regularly clean out their mandis (baths) as water is stored in the bathrooms of ordinary people. It is also suggested that rubbish not be left lying around, particularly after rain, as water could collect. I haven't even mentioned Typhoid which can be caught by eating unclean food. Water cannot be drunk from the tap and must always be boiled first. All things considered it is a wonder that all of us living here in Indonesia are not even sicker.

Monday 7th January

I ventured down the street to buy some chicken rice porridge from a food cart this morning. While I was waiting, for porridge is popular and there were quite a few customers, I chatted with the father of the groom at yesterday's wedding. He was dressed in a sarong and singlet and was enjoying the morning air at his shop front. I asked whether his hands were sore and then found out that over five thousand people had attended yesterday's reception. It struck me as an awful lot of people.

Most of yesterday's guests probably live in simple kampungs (villages), I certainly recognised quite a few as neighbours, and yet to see how well dressed they were you would have thought that they lived in some of the big houses that front onto the street. Indonesians like to dress well even if they are not wealthy. They are often very confused by westerners who dress so casually and sometimes deliberately wear old or torn clothing. Firstly social status cannot be easily ascertained and secondly they feel that if you can afford good clothing you should wear some. Prestige brand names are very popular. The old age of you are what you wear (or what car you drive, or what house you live in)is alive and well.

Bandung, as well as being a university town, is also a textile centre. There are many large factories and they employ thousands of people. People come to Bandung from Jakarta and other parts of Indonesia to buy cheap cloth and clothing. As the demand has increased factory outlet shops have sprung up everywhere. I noticed with amazement that a good number of them were even open right through the Idul Fitri holiday period. They don't impress me as being that cheap but are nonetheless starting to rival the huge shops in the famous jeans street, Cihampelas.

I am not a clothes shopper because I am too hard to fit, so I tend to get my clothes, particularly trousers, specially made. The quality of workmanship is very high and the costs are very reasonable. I can get a pair of custom made trousers for under twenty Australian dollars. This is much cheaper than anything you could buy in jeans street or a factory outlet. Tailors are to be found everywhere. I am presently stocking up for my return to Australia!

Sunday 6th January

Yana and I received an invitation from some of our neighbours to go to a Sundanese (West Java) wedding today. I wasn't overly impressed with weddings here when I first arrived in the country but I quite like them now, even if it is only for the lovely food. The whole concept is quite different from western weddings in that hundreds of people are invited and the guests often only stay long enough to eat some food. The majority of Indonesians are Muslims so most weddings have no alcohol. When Yana and I married two months ago we did not have a traditional reception, we had done it our own way, as you would expect when two cultures meet.

Today's affair was quite spectacular and must have cost a pretty penny. A huge hall had been hired, professional caterers had been brought in and the scent of huge bunches of lovely flowers filled the hall. A gamelan orchestra was playing soothing Sundanese music, and huge dishes of traditional food were ready for the taking. We filed in, went up to the dias to shake hands with the bride's parents, then moved onto the bride and groom and then finally shook hands with the groom's family. After that we helped ourselves to food from the central tables and found a place to sit outside. On finishing our food we thanked the wedding party again, dropped an envelope with some money into a special box and headed off home. Half an hour was all it took.

We were there quite early and already there were hundreds of guests. The reception would close at four so there were many more hours ahead for the poor wedding party to shake all the guests' hands .... everybody.... twice! They would be tired at the end of the day. Still they looked very happy and seemed genuine in their response to the beautifully dressed stream of people that paraded in front of them. Most of the male guests wore batik shirts, sometimes nice satiny ones, while the women almost all wore elegant Muslim clothes. I was not as nicely dressed and probably stood out. I stood out any way, as I was the only whiteskinned person there, towering in my full 186cm glory.

I gather some families are in debt for years paying off these weddings because everybody wants to impress their those around them. Our neighbours are probably no exception. They live in a very simple house and operate a very basic little kiosk shop that sells things like water, cakes, coffee, tea and shampoo. Quite a contrast to the splendour of the wedding reception.

On arriving home there was a knock on the door. Visitors? No. It was another wedding invitation, hand delivered! For next Sunday. If we can judge by the flash cardboard used we are going to be in for a real treat next week. I can hardly wait!

Saturday 5th January

The new year seems to have started well. Train drivers have received a pay increase and their shifts have been shortened. This would seem to imply that the management agreed that the working conditions were perhaps a little inadequate. Very inadequate in fact, I'd say, particularly considering the reponsibility involved. Let's hope they now also focus on some train and rail maintenance. They must not forget all those high metal bridges that span the steep valleys in west Java. Are they ever checked? I imagine not as they are not very accessible. Metal does corrode and become less strong with age. Will train travel in Indonesia ever be really safe and reliable?

Around the alun-alun, (the Bandung square), all the food carts have been removed and the area is now clean and quite spacious. I hadn't noticed the trees there before, or the fact that it was originally a car park. The atmosphere is quite different and traffic can now move very easily. Hundreds of stalls must have been moved. I would just like to know where all those people who earned their living there have gone to. I hope that they all have alternative venues. Tidiness is wonderful but if it creates more poor and unemployed people I would rather put up with the dirt and mess.

In Dago, that once lovely area, where the lovely old mature trees had been chopped down and the road had been widened, I was very pleased to see that some young trees had been planted along the sidewalk. It will take years for the trees to reach a reasonable size but I was nonetheless reassured that replanting was part of the whole project. It shows that there is some concern for environmental matters.

The police were apparently very successful recently and had caught the people who had robbed a Bandung bank ATM of Rp.700 million rupiah.(Aus $140,000) ATM robberies are quite common. I wonder if they actually caught the right people. Oops, sorry, to be so sceptical because I gather that sometimes, in desperation, the police grab almost anyone just to appease their public image. Society is not fooled by this but I hope that this time they did catch the right people. The banking industry is in a shambles and certainly doesn't need to lose large amounts of money in this way. Mind you they do seem to be very keen to give away money if you believe their television advertisements. So many banks have competitions at present with hundreds or thousands of very fancy prizes. Can they actually afford to do this?

Finally on the good news front, a lawyer who had received a Rp550 million bribe in return for a favourable decision in a land argument case, has received a fairly hefty jail sentence. I hope this will be the first of many cases where corrupt lawyers are identified and then punished. On the other hand, I don't know what can be done with the lawyer that gave a sentence of five months jail to a sandal factory worker who had taken a pair of defective sandals, worth Rp25,000 ($Aus 5) out of a bin and had taken them home. Apparently this was common practice among the workers. Extreme to say the least. Why did the matter even go to court? Couldn't it have been handled internally? The law is never quite so harsh with the wealthy and powerful.

Friday 4th January

I have been doing a lot of wandering about recently. The weather is nice and I have time on my hands. Bandung is such a lovely city that I want to savour it, enjoy it and come to know it as well as I possibly can. At one point I found that I was very hungry, but the only food place close by was a MacDonalds. I almost entered, but then pulled myself up. Firstly, I don't particularly like MacDonalds food and then secondly they are not at all cheap in Indonesia. In fact they are expensive. It is a status thing here and so all the American food chain places are always very full, no matter how grim the economical situation. I decided to hold on, walk a little further and get some value for my money.

Speaking of money, there seems to be a distinct lack of it at present. Certainly at our level. Yana has been approached by two of his friends who offered goods in exchange for money and my massage lady asked me for a loan. I can understand that Bu Mimin is struggling. She washes clothes for university students and does a bit of massage work as well. As most of her students have gone home for the holidays, there is probably not a lot of money coming in at present. School is not free in Indonesia and she is having difficulty paying the December/January fees. Odd though, I remember distinctly that school children were on holiday for a good proportion of this time.

Education is very highly valued in Indonesia. This is in spite of the fact that the facilities are very poor. Most children who go to school in bright, stimulating and spacious classrooms in Australia or in the west would be horrified if they saw the cramped conditions, bare walls and neglected rooms. There is very little 'hands on learning' and the poorly paid teachers tend to work almost completely from textbooks. The books in libraries tend to be few in number, very old, and most unappealing. Playgrounds are non existent so children play in the street. All in all, it is most unimpresive.

The universities are not much better. Yet there are huge numbers of students in attendance, not just here in Bandung, but all over Indonesia. I wonder about their futures. Indonesian universities, as a rule don't have a good reputation for quality instruction, and so people with money send their offspring overseas. Obviously those with qualifications from America, England, Germany or Australia would be first in line for jobs. So what happens to the bulk of Indonesian graduates? Many would have very litle chance of finding good employment as the jobs just aren't there. What will happen to them?

Thursday 3rd January

Bandung is gradually getting back to normal. People are returning from their villages and home towns. The local market is back to its full capacity, the street food stalls are reopening and even Marnie is back, so I have a clean house again. I haven't started teaching yet but most Indonesian children are back at school. I will be working again next week. Meanwhile I still have a lot of time on my hands, particularly as Yana is busy with his tyre business.

Yesterday after having lunch with a friend in Dago, instead of taking public transport home, I decided to walk back through some villages and ricepaddies. The back route offers spectacular views, steep descents and even steeper climbs. The people in the villages that I passed, live a simple life at a slower pace and seem to be many worlds away from the bustling city that is to be seen in the distance. I imagine that many of them would only venture out on rare occasions. They have small kiosk type shops, itinerant vegetable and food sellers and for entertainment they have their televisions. Most of their needs could be fulfilled locally.

Since I discovered the Metro television station a few weeks ago I also have been watching a lot more television. This station offers a lot of news, documentaries and topical programmes. Indonesian stations seem to have far too many soap operas that revolve around very self-centred, shallow people who live amid splendid surroundings. They are not good role models for the millions of ordinary people that thrive on watching them. Apart from these cinetrons, there are an alarming number of dubbed Indian movies, a lot of music, some comedy that is unintelligible to the expatriate who can only understand pure Bahasa Indonesia and many bad, action based American movies.

Then there are the advertisements. Many, and I really mean many of them. Often repeated within a short period of time. It would seem that all women want to have whiter skin, so skinwhiteners are heavily promoted. If a girl has brown skin then boyfriends will not come her way. Hair must be black and slinky and apparently there are shampoos that can provide just this. Dandruff is a no no and if a man has it he will not be popular. Being overweight is embarrassing and something must be done about it immediately. Clothes on the washing line must be so dazzling that sunglasses need to be worn when it is being hung out. Indomie, or noodles, should be eaten every day. Finally, if you use a certain brand of toothpaste you will be protected from nasty monsters in a red moonlike world. Useful I'm sure. Get the picture? Need I say more?

Wednesday 2nd January

The glorious weather is continuing even though it is now supposed to be the wet season. In Cianjur the rice paddies are drying up so the upcoming rice harvest could well be threatened. Not a pleaant prospect as it obviously has economic consequences. Indonesia doesn't need to have a whole lot of farmers facing a major loss of income. They already have forty million people in such a position.

Megawati, in defiance of her own order that the country's leaders should show thriftiness, spent the new year in Bali at one of the country's palaces , together with her forty-four person entourage. This didn't go unnoticed and has caused considerable shaking of heads. The residents of Irian Jaya, or Papua, as it is now officially known, in particular want an explanation as to why the president's visit to their province was cancelled at the last minute. No reason had been given. They had spent considerable time and money preparing for the visit. Surely it wasn't so she could spend extra time in Bali?

I have been very patient with Megawati and felt that she needed time to get her self established. Now I am starting to wonder whether I have been a little too understanding. She hasn't really made any progress in handling any of the problems that beset the nation. For a start, ten major corruption cases involving major figures have virtually come to a standstill. These people have now had far too much time to prepare themselves for the charges that are levelled at them. No doubt they will be using the funds that they have misappropriated to defend themselves. She is now talking of dropping the charges against Soeharto!

This could be setting a dangerous precedent.I can appreciate why many of the country's leaders are very keen for this to happen. They don't want their misbehaviours to be exposed. Nonetheless, if the government wants to gain credibility, they must be seen to act fairly. My main concern is not necessarily to see people being punished but to witness the return of the billions that have been 'stolen'. The country could then actually build up a new infrastructure that would cater for everyone. At present this is not possible as the vast bulk of funds are spent servicing the huge foreign debt.

Tuesday 1st January

The weather on New Year's eve wasn't looking really promising and both Yana and I were pondering the wisdom of going up into hills behind Lembang for a camping trip. Our friends were persistent and in the end we hastily threw some things in some bags and headed off on the bike. The camping site was located in an army target practice area that is open to the public when it is not being used. We had to go up a very rough road with lots of mud and huge holes. It was a little scary but there were no problems. We passed a huge number of young trekkers who were walking in, cooking pots and guitars in hand. It must have taken them hours and hours.

As it tends to do in higher altitudes, the fog and mist quickly set in as the sun went down. This then turned to drizzle ..... heavy drizzle that could be mistaken for rain. All the dry wood had already been taken by the many campers that had already established themselves in the main camping area. The wood we gathered just wouldn't burn despite kerosene being added in liberal quantities. Things weren't looking good and I suspected that we were in for long, uncomfortable night. I was wrong. The sky cleared with time and we were in for an enjoyable evening of singing and talking. There was no auld lang syne at midnight. Instead most people held fireworks which they then threw into the air, near motorbikes and cars, I might add. I was somewhat horrified but no one suffered any burns and the vehicles were still intact.

Meanwhile,in Bandung, the main streets were so full of cars and people that the traffic flow completely stopped. I imagine the atmosphere must have been superb. I gather that the same thing thing happened in most cities and towns throughout Indonesia. The trumpets would have come out in all their glory as would have the fireworks. A new year would have been ushered in. I never thought that I would get to see 2002. Yet here I still am. Now waiting for 2003!

In Palu, Sulawesi some people took advantage of the celebrations and exploded bombs in four churches. An unfortunate start to the new year. Then again many of the 'predictors' of the future have said that 2002 year will not really be a good year for Indonesia. Well known faces accused of major offenses will probably walk away free, the economy will continue to go downhill, poverty will incease and people will become dissatisfied with the government. What a set of dismal predictions!

marionecp@hotmail.com