The Last Day

This is my last day teaching in the slum. I woke up at 4am in Bandung and leave for Jakarta at 5.30 am. I reached the slum at 8am. It is a sunny day, the lights are coming down through narrow spots from in between the house roofs. In the front area, some doors are still closed, few are outside, sitting, cooking, sweeping, or just getting out from the public shower. The wet market however, is already crowded. While walking and halted every few seconds, I realized that within 50cm radius, there are many activities happening. On my left, the vegetable seller is negotiating with potential buyer in front of me, so I had to wait, because, on my right, there's an old man with his bycicle, who is stopped because of the narrow space as the musician with a guitar, is singing for three ladies, who are drinking jamu*, from the seller at the right side. Underwears are sold next to vegetables and dirts are swept next to a frying pan. Is it weird that I find this place so fascinating?

I walk to the back to the centre. The door is still locked. The old lady who lives at the side was sweeping the floow, I asked if I could sit on their bench while waiting. She welcomes me.

"Kak Arian!", Nala greets me cheerfully, with Zahra they both sit with me on the bench. Their legs are hanging and swaying. Zahra looks pretty and fresh, apparently she showered this morning, unlike the usual, where she always shows up with tangled hair and swollen sleepy eye. Nala bragged about the perfect score she got for her group work at school. I asked her why hasn't Sali been coming. She told me because his mom is "gone". What do you mean gone? I asked her. "Gone, never return", she answers me. This information is later confirmed by the tutor. Ironically these things commonly happen here for various reason. Somebody said that this slum is a "children depot", I can understand why it's called that, since wherever you go, you will see children in every corner. People have sexual intercourse without contraception, sometimes for the sole pleasure. Sometimes that's how people call them "husband and wife", because they already make a family, without marriage or a legal paper. Sometimes one of the spouse just simply go away. Sometimes it's the teenagers that start the family. For Sali's case, it was money that cause the problem and the separation. "Gone, never return". I was appalled by how familiar that concept is to these children. "And why hasn't he been coming?" I asked Nala again. "I think he misses his mom", she told me. Sali comes today, he's acting playful but rude towards his friends. He made Nala cried. Kak Eja thinks that he's been acting out since mom left. I shudder thinking how hard it is for a child like him to be able to understand and express his feelings.

Anyway...

The kids are happy with the materials I made. "Cakep ye kak?", they commented. They immediately play with it, but... uh-oh....!! When you attach the tags to the pictures, and when you try to detach it again, the velcro is off!! So I am not only giving them materials, but also I'm giving kak Eja an obligation to fix all the tags to re-glue it with better glue. I used 'Fox' glue instead of UHU because it was cheaper. Kak Eja told the kids that they may look at them and find the answers but don't use the tags for now. 

And so they did...

Nala likes the transportation board while Sali likes the occupation board, 

he takes it again and again and again.

Although...

For this picture, which supposedly to be "journalist", 

Kak Eja thinks the children in La'i will say this is a busker x)

As this is how some buskers in Indonesia are, they carry their own speaker and microphone,

they usually sing dangdut.

Our final lesson

Niar and Amel, discussing the rainforest. They say, the monkey is Ipeh's brother. 

And Ipeh's perfectily happy with it.

Sali wanted to click with my camera. Curious Azis crouched down to see 

what's going on. This is Sali's shot :)

Arif asks me, "When will you come back?"

"A year from now"

He nods.

Kak Eja asks, "Do you understand? So how long is one year?"

He shrugs, "Until we become old", he said. Kak Eja laughs and said, "One year is 12 months. This is January 2012, Kak Arian will be back in January 2013". But Arif still looks confused.

I told him, "Okay, how bout this. You're in second grade. I'll be back when you're in third".

"So you mean once I got my report card and then you'll be there right after?"

We laugh again and told him, "Well, not exactly. In January. During..hmm..second semester of third grade" I told him, as our Indonesian education system starts in July.

"Check the calendar", kak Eja told him. Arif and Kiki walk towards our 2012 calendar and they point and "discussed" it. Kak Eja found another comparison and asks him, "Okay how about this, when will you be circumcised?"

He told kak Eja, "When I'm in 5th grade".

"Well Kak Arian will surely be back by then. Nevermind" Kak Eja said.

Then, as if Kiki has found a brilliant idea, he told Arid, "Oh, I know! Why don't you get circumcised tomorrow so Kak Arian will be back tomorrow?"

I feel so happy that the kids have accepted me, even Kiki, who was quite resistant and cold at first. How much I learn from this place. I guess what I wanted to do never "to help" or "to teach English". I just wanted to be their friends and I think that's how a community should be. Because don't we all have something to share? Hopefully it could help them in their future endeavour.

What I still find dilemmatic sometimes is the attitude towards children beggars. These centers aim to keep children away from the street, and now I see how much difference it makes. Some of the children in the slum go to the street and beg (or busk) for money after school and it makes them exhausted in the night. They never do their homework or study. And since it is usually their parents that encourage them to earn, it is doubtful that the parents will help the children study. And as the result, they're left behind in school. Few of our kids that don't come often to the centre usually go to the streets. The organization tries to give incentives such as transport fee and free lunch everyday to keep these kids coming. For the ones with full attendance will always be taken for field trips. Unfortunately some parents still think they can still make money without school so what's the point. So when I see small children begging on the street, I see my students... I rarely give money anymore because I think, if you really care about them, there are other ways to do it. For me, before, I used to think it's harmless to help a kid buy his lunch, but now I think about the long-term impact. Not in the sense of arrogance, that I want them to 'work hard' or that they are being 'lazy', or that we are encouraging 'laziness'. I don't know if it's the right thing to do, and I'm not saying that traditional education is the only way to strive. I know it's easy for me to say, because I know they are deprived of the opportunity, so self determination could be a luxury they can't afford, but I still wish they know that they are capable of doing more, much much more in life.

bye bye place..

The Overdue

Okay, since I resigned my job last week, I finally have the time to make the materials that I've been meaning to do since months. These are for the kids to 'play' while waiting for their friends to arrive, things that they can work on and on repeatedly now that I'll be gone for a year. Basically the work is to match the tags (attached with Velcro) to the pictures. Nothing spectacular but hopefully they'll like to work with it, since it's very easy to forget a bunch of new taught vocabulary. I dragged my two little sisters (and my sisters' boyfriend) to help with some cutting and gluing. And since I'm very obsessed with perfect cutting (machine quality!) I nagged them at first. But the third day at midnight I got so tired, I messed few cuttings myself.


So here they are.. We did...

..drawing and cutting..

...and printing and lots and lots of cutting...

...lots of laminating (and cutting again)...

...and lots and lots of gluing.

And here they are

Got to play with the paint!

Now they are ready to be played. I'll carry them as the 'replacement' of myself tomorrow for my last day at the slum.

:)

Rainforest

Just some old rainforest preschool thematic materials that I made for college assignment.

What animal lives in which strata?

Help the squirrel to get the fruits with some counting!

What is there inside a rainforest?

Let's find the correct answers!

Learn division from the fair mama monkey..

Wait.. Can you guess what tree is that?

Enough with maths! Let's make some mess with art&crafts!

See, I love making things, but I don't always have the time (and diligence) to do it. So when this became assignment, that I was 'required' to do this, I told myself, yippie!

Materials made with Adobe Illustrator, Adobe Photoshop, felt, some weird texture paper, glue, scissors, tissue rolls, cardboard.

There's more but I can't find 'em. Let me re-print them and I'll post some more later.. Ciao~~

Traces

When I reach the slum at 8.30 today, I was surprised to see many children are already at the centre in the morning. And not just that, they look very nice! Their hair are still wet, most of them showered this morning! They're in nice clothes, with T-shirt tucked into their pants, and uneven powder on their faces. I asked Kak Eja what's going on, and apparently a magazine company is celebrating 2nd birthday and inviting the slum children because they're going to be given free food and free milk. They're asked to come at 11, but probably their excitement has brought them since 8 in the morning! We chat, play games, waiting for each other, and we leave the centre at 11.00 to go the the other centre nearby where the event is held (around 1.5km walk from our centre). There are 14 of us walking under the cloudy sky, wind brushes our faces, thunders softly heard. Passing through the narrow alleys, the boys are pushing each other and laughing, the girls fighting over holding my hand. We do not pass the market because we will surely cause a traffic jam! The tutor walk at the front and I walk at the very back to make sure noone's left behind. Suddenly all the children scream, run and disperse to many directions! There are 3 monkeys on the way (the ones that usually made perform with clothes and tambourine near the traffic lights). They laugh hard and laugh harder at the ones that are scared. We pass through houses, dirty rivers, we reach main road and crossover bridge. We pass through a very wide field that I've never realized was there before! It is more or less the size of football field, with a very brown slightly moist soil. In the middle, some children, including toddlers, are playing football, with few goats grazing right in the middle of the play. On our left side is slum housings bounded by a tall wall. I could see faded color roofs and the dome of a mosque. On the far right end is an area with contrasting green grass on the pretty brown soil, and few trees. From afar, I could see two boys are chilling on a tall sloping tree. They rest against sturdy slanted branches, looking untroubled from anything. Their clothes are fluttered by the wind. I wonder how they see all of us from up there. The children discuss the weather. Nanda brings umbrella, some say let's shelter under something first if rain comes. Some wants to play under the rain. Tasya and Sevia, who are walking in front on of me, are jumping and stomping hard on the brown soil, to 'splash' the soil to sprinkles into thin air. Not long after, we reach the other centre. Tarpaulin sheet is unfurled for the children to sit outside under the tree. From the other centres, only the children that have birthday between 1-10 December are invited to come. The boys, again, are playing pushing each other roughly on the tarp sheet. We sit at the back. The girls hold my hands, comparing their fingers and nails with mine. Touch my hair, observing my pants and ask if it's Lepis (Levi's). And since always, they are always fascinated with my braces! Some even want to have braces now. I told them that they don't need it because they have nice teeth. (The tutor told me that there are 'toy braces' sold for kids and one of our kids have that! Haha). Azis asked me, "Do I need one Kak?" I told him to show off his teeth, he grins to me. Few teeth are not in place, very slightly. But I told him, "No, you don't need it". Yes, Indonesians are not as obsessed of perfect teeth as white people. Nala said, "Ihh Azis gimana sih, kata emak behel itu untuk cewe doang!" (My mom said braces are for girls only!) Arif asks me out of the blue, "Kak, are you from England?" I laugh and said no. He asks again, "Then how come you understand English?" I told him, I learn English since I was his age and he can surely speak English too if he continues learning! Event's started. The ladies that come from the company look very kinclong. "Cakep-cakep yee Kak", said Nala. The lady from the company asks children questions, and they give out 10 books to those who answer correctly. A bag of T-shirt, book, wafer and milk are given to those who celebrate birthday between 1-10 December. Finally, all children are each given a box of meal; yellow rice, water, a piece of chicken, perkedel, and banana. Nala doesn't finish her rice and said she will bring it home. I told her, "Why don't you eat your banana?" She said it's for her mom, who likes banana. When we're eating from the boxes, a chicken runs long across our 10m tarp sheet and jump in and out few children's food!! Everybody scream excitedly! Noticing the chicken jump in Rahma's food, I, not being aware that instead of being clean, I might sound like a spoiled girl for them, told the tutor, "Kak, give Rahma a new one! The chicken jumped in her food!" The tutor only laughs and says, "Let it be Kak. Belum 5 menit!" Really? When I turned my face around, Rahma already continues eating. At 1pm, the event's done. The sky is still cloudy and we walked with the children. The tutor tells me that we don't have to send them all the way until the centre, just walk with them until the crossover bridge at the main road. The tutor walks with me in the back while children are walking and jumping around drinking their milk in front of us. Right after we go down the crossover bridge, the tutor says, "Okay, let the children go and we take the bus here." We didn't say goodbye to the children because they all have walked far in front of us. We watch them walk. The girls at the front, who suddenly realize that we are not there, look back. We wave to them as as sign that we're not coming back with them. They wave back to us. One by one they realize, they stop, we wave to them, they wave back to us, and they continue walking. Kiki, at the back, who realizes last that we're not coming, suddenly stops and from afar I can see him shouting to the other kids but I can't hear what he said, probably telling them that we're 'left behind'. He just runs towards us while the others keep walking. I wave him to the left and to the right (as in 'bye-bye-bye') and Kak Eja waves him from the back to the front (as in 'shoo-shoo-shoo'). Kiki stops and reads our sign language. After that, the thin and handsome Kiki with his oversized backpack turns back and runs to catch up with the others. I can see him getting smaller and smaller from where I stand, until he disappears at a right turn..






Tak terasa sudah penghujung tahun... Langkah yang melompat-lompat riang dan tawa-tawa nakal, bukan hanya kenangan.. tapi sudah menjadi bagian dari diriku. Aku pasti akan kembali lagi.

Bus and Buskers

I'm grateful that I don't have private car, it's one of the ways I could be in contact with the world 'outside' my milieu. Everyday I get on the ugly bus and blend in with other sweating people who are tired after work, fighting for seats. Today after a bad day that has been going on since morning, I take a bus home and thank god there's one empty seat left. A busker gets in and starts singing accompanied by his guitar. Since I was hassled by a fake busker few months ago, I have developed greater respect for those who come to sing whole-heartedly. Buskers in Indonesia, aside from, of course, singing love songs, love to sing folk songs with theme of struggle, trying to make it in this cruel world as the unlucky ones. This one, however, is singing an old love song.. I forgot the title. Usually, when buskers get in and sing, people's eyes would just wonder away, looking blankly at the streets or window, few will give money without even looking. This time, when the busker sing, a toddler sitting on his mom's laps, keeps giving his thumbs up to him, cheering him up. He smiles back at the toddler while singing. The kenek, who is standing fearlessly at the bus door, is whistling the 'background vocal' of the original song. Their interaction strings a very nice conversation between random... but common people. I prepared a rupiah note for him. I'm sitting at the very back of the bus seat, and I notice that nobody give him anything, not even a coin. Before I give the note, a long-hair scary looking guy that sits next to me, gives him a rupiah note. Isn't it nice when scary looking people turn out to be the nicest? Heehee. I thought these buses, kopaja and metro mini, that are as square as the old Khong-guan biscuits can, could tell so much about Indonesia and the people. They may not qualify for international standard but work just fine enough. They are wretched, but they survive. They are extremely exhausted but that's life as we know it and we just continue to live. And unfortunately, they may not follow the proper safety procedure, because the price of life is apparently cheaper in Indonesia. I realized this when once our kenek, who was standing at the door, was thrown during a sharp turn from the bus and almost hit by another car. With wounds on his arm and legs limping, he ran to the bus to be scolded by the driver, for not holding on when the bus turning.


I don't know why I'm writing this.. but I'm surely going to miss this place next year.

Layers

Life in the slum is something that I am yet to comprehend. Before getting involved here, when I pass the street and look at it, probably I would think, “Oh the slum” ..or “oh the people”, as if they are just one kind.

When I first came few months ago, there was a house under construction near the entrance of the slum. Now, the house is already done, and when I peep inside, I see a nice tiling and big flat-screen TV, and the floor looks very nice and shiny! Something that I would never expect to see here in the first place. (But don’t get the wrong idea, this is just ONE house out of hundreds). Based on the houses, you could see that there are strata within the stratum actually. Many houses are painted with bright colors, some not painted at all, some are tiled nicely, some are just cemented, some with pots of plants and flowers, some dustier and dirtier. It is nice to see people keeping clean and decorating their houses here, it shows that they are able to pay rent continuously (unlike the other side of the slum, where the houses are uglier, most people are jobless or become thugs or prostitutes, the children smell like dry feces, and people come and go more frequently). Here, their rent is 150,000 rupiah or $16 monthly, for approx.2m x 3m space for a house. For many of the houses, one house means one room. Later I learned some of the bigger and nicer spaces here are rented by the rather ‘higher-class job’ such as toy sellers in the market, and one or two are even rented just for storage. Some have motorcycles, few even own cars. Many still do rough work, construction work, cleaning service, scavenging, etc. And some other jobs I'd never think of.. like Sali's mom, the peanut sorter. The money circulation is also quite high in the area because of the warungs, internet café or computers rented for games, vendors that walk around selling candy or ice cream, bicycle renter, or odong-odong*. There is always something that can be ‘enterprised’ even though there is obvious side effect such as probably high consumption of snacks with msg or unclean snacks. With their low income, they seem to be quite consumptive, it's doubtful that people would save a lot for the future. "I worked hard, I deserve good food" seems to be a philosophy for many. Live for today, tomorrow is another story. But at the same time, without their high consumption, probably the money circulation could be jammed. But I don't know, I don't really understand economy. Tell me what you think. Anyways. The area always feels ‘alive’ to me due to the packed activities. But yea, yea, good! Or so I thought. “Let’s just be realistic. How could people rent a place here and provide for the family with such low profit from their job? There always will be occasional thievery and prostitution here”, says… let’s just say somebody. However it’s still inconclusive for me. There are various ways to survive. For example, Ma’De would give her friend rice if her family has nothing to eat. And other ways that I’m still oblivious to, I think.

I also wonder about the use of space. How a confined 2m x 3m could contain a family and function for various activities, eating, sleeping, playing, or making love. Maybe kekeluargaan or solidarity in the lower economy class people is not only about the 'value' they share but it's the byproduct of the situation they're in. Probably because their place is too small, only for sleep, that they always 'hanging out' in front of their houses, so they always talk to each other. When I walk around at noon, I notice that they wouldn't turn on the lights at daytime (probably to save electricity, or probably because it's too hot), so they're always in the front of their houses, chatting. Maybe that's one factor why everybody knows everybody in the neighborhood. When I walk and peep into a mosque inside, however, it was very spacious and nicely tiled and with very high ceiling. The tutor told me that the upstairs is used for holding a kindergarten class. A child played tarzan once in there, hanging, due to the high ceilings and pillars, and got suspended. The alley right in front of our centre is very narrow, probably around 60cm wide. However many children play outside. Sometimes they tidy up our sandals right in front of the door to make (slightly) bigger space. Sometimes they sit at our floor in front of the door when they are tired. Maybe there’s not so much concept of ‘trespassing’ here. I wonder whether they wish for a bigger space, but then I remember that they could go to the wide field where the goats and trash are… if they like. Or like many people in the afternoon, who go picnic or hanging out in the cemetery behind the wet market, as it is their only open and wide space with some grass, where goats also graze.

It is pretty mind boggling how certain conditions determine or even force how your life runs, how some things makes sense for some people but bizarre for the others, although your underlying needs as humans would be the same. Both the likeness and the difference are quite incredible to witness. Just a thought from an amateur :)

in case you don't know what odong-odong is

Image source: 

http://www.mediaindonesia.com/public/gallery/large/2011_01_20_06_24_20_odong-b.jpg

Naivete

Today both the tutor and I came a little late to the centre. I was waiting for the tutor at the crossover bridge at the main road for her to help me carry a box and bags of clothes. We met at 8.30 and go inside the slum. Kak Eja and I are chatting and buying cookies from the market while walking. When we are near the centre, seven children are already waiting for us right in front of the narrow alley. Seeing us coming with loads, they shouted "Here they are!!" and run towards us with smile on their faces and everybody just wants a piece of load. Sali immediately put the box on top of his head, with his faded blue T-shirt, he looks like a child coolie. Raga (or was it Nala?) got a big plastic bag. Azis wants one too, so I took out another bag from inside my backpack and let him carry it.


There are nine of us walking towards the centre. We are walking under the hot sun and through the narrow alley and the children are very busy talking, teasing, laughing, jumping. That short walk to the centre is such a nice moment :) While waiting for the tutor to get the key from Ma'De, I pinch Azis' cheek softly and asked him, why haven't you been coming! He just grin shyly. The tutor opens the key to the centre and we go inside. The children immediately arrange the box and the bags at the corner of our tiny room. They know the clothes are not for them (Sali immediately asked, "is this for La'i?"), nevertheless it looks like they are just naturally happy to be given responsibility to help. We start by doing some drawing then we revised some vocabulary from the previous lessons. Okay, I have collected some mispronunciations by the children that I find really funny! Because English is a new language for them so they tend to associate some of the words with familiar Indonesian words. (FYI, this is only funny for those who speak Indonesian and the slang!)


Semangka = wortel-melon
Anggur = grepe'
Hitam = belek
Mata = yes
Dengkul = kenek
Pemadam kebakaran = firman
Arsitek = (ar) ketek
Maling = kundang (??)


Lol, these children crack me up everytime! There will be more coming up... :D


After the lesson is done, I pack up my things and prepare to go home. Next to our centre, there has been loud sounds of hitting, it sounds like a hammer, so I suppose the neighbor is constructing or nailing something. When I go out, apparently it is Dimas, the pantless toddler, who is by himself, "busy" hitting his toy with a wooden sandals on the wooden bench. The motorbike toy is already broken to pieces. No wonder I only saw him once at our door today. We call him, "Dimas! Pssst! Dimas!". But he is too busy "working" he doesn't even look at us. Hmm.. I always thought the poor children have some kind of benefit (over the middle/upper class) in terms of their freedom exploring the outside world. Many are also quite creative in making their own toys or inventing own games instead of being entertained by expensive but uncreative toys! They are also the ones who enjoy the touch of soil on their feet and the slap of the rain on their faces. There is even some extent of wildness that I envy. Not having everything and being free to do anything. When I am walking, I see two girls outside their home (one is probably 3 years old and I assume the other one is her sister, a one year old), discovering the joy of sliding. They are sitting on the ramp of a 3 steps stairs, sliding down, laughing, taking turns.

The Brave Ones

We've got a new colorful Thomas carpet! Replacing our old dusty full of holes carpet, who is now 'put to rest'. Aside from the tutor, only three children were there, Sali, Eni, and Zahra. As usual, the way to gather all the children are by us sending each one of them to pick up friends at their houses. Sometimes the reason they don't want to show up aside from laziness, tiredness after playing, also that they might not attend school the day before and they are afraid to be questioned by the tutor. I ask Sali to pick up some friends and he returns empty handed, nobody wants to come. Today's lesson is about professions. I already wrote down on the board some professions. While Sali was copying them down, I take out my camera from my bag and ask the tutor, if it is okay for me to take pictures. She said yes. Sali is excited to see the camera and the tutor tells Sali, "See, kak Arian has camera. Tell your friends if they want to take pictures, they have to come!" Sali goes to pick up their friends and in couple of minutes Arif, Kiki, Faza, and Nanda show up x)


We discussed about what they want to be when they grow up. I wrote down some popular professions (and the English translations) such as doctor and pilot, some unusual ones (unusual for them) such as architect, to broaden their world (a research shows that poor children have limited knowledge of dreamjob), also a profession familiar to their context such as vendors.
Suddenly a girl asks, "How about maling (thief). What's the English word for it?"
Then I thought about it, maybe thief is considered a real job in their world.
I answered them, "It's called thief. Why, is there anybody want to be a thief here?"
The tutor pointed at a very shy and sweet 5 year old girl, Eni, and said "Eni wanted to be a thief. But it was a long time ago, probably she did not understand what it was. What do you want to be now?" she asks Eni.
Eni answers with a very soft voice we could only understand by reading her lips, "Doctor"


After they finish writing, as promised, I take their pictures.

Our room, Kak Eja, and the cat. Aside from cat, we also got visits from chicks.

Children copying words from the board.

Some of their artworks.

Dimas, the pantless toddler, our frequent visitor.

Niar, Zahra, and Eni putting on fashion show for the camera :D

Upi and Nanda.

The cool guys: Kiki, Arif, Sali, and Faza. Full of love and full of fight.

:)

The Blaze

Monday, October 31st, the other side of the slum where I usually work was burned down by fire. More than 200 houses were on flames for hours until they were flat to the ground. Media said what caused the fire was an exploding gas tank, but many people believe it was burned down intentionally as it commonly happens in Indonesia to unlawfully evict "these people" for a "cleaner" city. It also happens regularly to a place until one of these days without you realizing, a mall's building is in progress.


The children's centre was not affected but some of the children's houses are. They are now living in tents and some are sheltered in the centre.

The Happiest Day

One day after the lesson in the slum, a girl, Nanda, told me about how great the trip to Kidzania was. Kidzania is themed as a child-sized replica of a real city, including buildings, shops and theaters, as well as vehicles and pedestrian moving along its streets. In this city, children aged 2 through 14 could join and experience different kinds of profession from doctor, pilot, construction worker, archeologist, and many more. The trip was a sponsored one from the organization.

“Really, was it great? I heard about it a lot, but never been there. Where is it, it’s inside a mall, right?”, I asked them.

“Umm.. well, you just take the bus, then you just go straaaaaaiiiight…”, said Arif.

“Yeah, and you stop at… umm.. well there were a lot of taxis in front of there”, said Nanda.

“Oh, okay. So you take the bus, go straight, and just stop at the place where there are a lot of taxis, right?”, I said, smiling, trying not to laugh.
"Yep!", Nanda confirmed affirmatively.

“Yeah.. it was reeeaaally huge. And there were a lot of things there. Fire station, hospital…”, said Arif.

“This kid kept following me everywhere,” said Nanda, annoyed, pointing at Arif, who grinned shyly. I imagined he felt dumbfounded by the huge “majestic” room that he had to follow this tall girl around.

“Do you still have the money?”, ask Kiki to Arif.

“Yea, a million”, he answered.

“What money?”, I asked them.

“You got money, from the KTM”, Arif said. Well, he meant ATM. Apparently there’s some kind of Kidzania currency that they get as their ‘wage’ after doing a job for particular profession. The money could be used to buy an item in there.

“Well, my money is finished. Can you give me some?”, Kiki asked.

“Yea, okay”, said Arif.

Suddenly, as if he forgot a very important detail, Arif stood up and pointed out his finger and shouted “It had air con!!”

The others quickly added, “Yeaaaa it was very cold”, “…until Aziz vomited, masuk angin”, they said.

“And then we drank milk. Enak ye susunye?”, said Nanda.

“Yea.. it was.”,  they answered.

This conversation about Kidzania goes on and on for about 40 minutes! Then I asked the teacher, “So all of you just took a trip to Kidzania? When? How fun!”

“No, kak, it was two years ago”, she answered. I was astonished. They talked with such vivid memories and feelings of wonder as if it was just happened yesterday. I thought to myself, that must be the happiest day of their lives.

Conversation with Makoto

“So I worked with smaller children class today. Like you suggested.” I said to Makoto.

Makoto smiles. “They’re very cute, right? But more harder. Need more help”, says Makoto in rather unclear speech.

“Yea. You like them ya? I heard from your teacher that you like to help smaller children. That’s very nice of you”, I said to him, amazed of the fact that the autistic boy has a sense of care and empathy. Makoto doesn’t respond. His eyes are on the street, but I think he’s a little bit shy.

“Do you like school, Makoto?”

“Yes”, he said without looking at me.

“How long have you been in that school?”

“Hmm..”, he pauses, “Since I was twelve”

“Do you think you have changed much since you first came here?”

“Yes, I learned a lot… more than enough”, he smiles. There’s a glimpse of proud.. or gratefulness in his face.

He continues, “But some of my friends, like Arun, will go to normal school”. He was opening a topic that I’ve been meaning to ask, but afraid if I would offend him.

“Normal school? So your school is not normal school?”
“No”, he said.

“So what school is it?”

“It’s for people who have problems”

“And what would you say your problems are?”

“Reading and socializing”

“What do you mean socializing?”

“Socializing, like conversation, talking skill…”

I chuckled at his naivety and said to him, “You haven’t been only answering me but you also asks me questions… I think you have excellent conversation skill..”

He smiles genuinely and answers with his unclear pronunciation, “That’s because you understand me..”

I was struck by his answer. Was I being too naïve that I thought he’s just fine? Did I think society is understanding enough? I looked at him and he still smiles. Why would anybody not understand this guy?

I gather myself together and ask him, “You mean other people don’t understand you?”
“Difficult… sometimes have to repeat”

I remember that he also works a simple job in a hotel.
“How about at your workplace? Do your colleagues understand you?”

“Ya… Because boss already explain that I got problems”

“Oh, so it’s good, then”

“…but cannot be all the time… because you know.. it’s work”, he says with such sensibility and humility that stunned me.

“Hmmm… So which one do you like better? School or work?”

“Work”, he answers fast.

“Really? Why? I thought you have more friends in school.”

“Ya..” and then he says something that I cannot make out from his unclear speech.

He asks me, “What time is your flight tonight?”

“8pm. So sad to leave. I will miss all of you”, I feel tear starts to fill my eyes. I look at him and he turns his eyes from me. I feel that he feels sad too. The day before I witnessed how a little event in the classroom could make him feel terribly sad.

“Don’t worry.. you can always come”, he tells me.

“I hope so. Hey, how about you come to my place? But in Indonesia, the buses wouldn’t be as nice as this.. Some buses don’t have air-con…”, I purposely tell him story from my side, because not all autistic people would be interested in others’ story.

Makoto just nods but his eyes are all over the place.

I keep continuing, ”…so it is really hot. And the buses are also very old, too”.

And suddenly he looks at me and he said with more enthusiasm, “Ooo… Now I think I know what you mean. I think Thailand also got”

I like how he really tries to process what you say to him. “So do you think you want to travel to Indonesia? Or any other places?” I challenge him, as not many autistic people love going to new places and experiencing change of routines.

“I want to try… one day”, he says, smiling.

“It would be very nice, Makoto.”

Makoto is a 17 year old boy with ASD and Dyslexia, and is academically challenged. Speech is slow and pronunciation is not clear as well. Nevertheless, one of the humblest and sensible people I have ever met…

The Wall

Monday, September 5th. This is the last day of holiday from work, but the children centre in the slum opens today so I decide to come play. I leave really early in the morning to avoid traffic because it's a Monday, but apparently it looks like many have not returned from kampung because the road is very empty. When I reach at the slum, I enter inside and the activity is less intense than it used to be. Less people and some doors are padlocked. So many are still gone mudik. I don't see all the people that I usually see. But I find one of my slum markers, a man (that's always found) sleeping on a flat board. The bottom of his foot has a very thick kapalan that breaks, his foot looks like a cracked wall. His skin, his tangled hair, and his faded-color T-shirt have blended in and make him look like the color grey. I reach the children centre but nobody is there. The padlock is opened, so I come in, unfurl our tikar that is already torn here and there, and turn on the fan.


Four girls stand by the door and asked if they could come and read inside. They come in and start to read aloud, I show them the books I bought last week and they like it! They are not children supported by organization but I’m really happy to see their spirit. I also really enjoy the children's friendliness in the slum. I remember a conversation between a girl and a stranger (a soldier) in the movie The White Balloon. In the middle of conversation, the stranger asked if the girl is afraid of him. The girl, who was intrigued but suspicious about the stranger asked him, "Don't you ever tell your little sister not to talk to strangers?" The man answered, "But we lived in a small hamlet. People know each other. There were no strangers there". 

They ask if they could join the class today, I told them yes. We chat a little bit. Two of them are sisters, one explains that actually she is the third child but she becomes second because her twin sister died at birth. I remember the children that I have encountered like to do this, making sure that they get the facts right: “I actually have a sister but she died”, “I’m actually in 3rd grade but I failed 2nd grade”. A boy with no arms in my old neighborhood also did that when I asked him what grade he’s in. “I’m actually at 4rd grade now but now I’m still in 2nd grade”. Maybe they like to announce facts to learn about themselves. We waited but apparently no other children come so they go back home after reading more books. Some of the children seem to be back in kampung still, some are just playing.

In the centre, I chat with the tutors and the program officer and learn more about the organization. The P.O just got back from his kampung and he brings cookies that is called tahi kucing (cat shit). The shape and color do look like tahi kucing, I try very hard not to imagine it when I chew it hesitantly. We then go for home visits for silaturahmi with the parents and to remind the children that the centre is open. I finally have the chance to see the other slum that I spoke about in the previous post as the tutors need to do home visits there.

Honestly the place is not as scary as I imagined. But yes, it is dirtier, more garbage, more stink, and there are flies everywhere surrounding you. However the major alleys are not too narrow and houses are low so many spaces are still illuminated by sunlight. When I walk, I always peek into the houses, and I see a house which the floor is made out of brown soil blending with crusting rubbish.

We walk through dark and bright alleys, running children, men playing chess on wooden benches, cat basking under the sun, men with tattoos. I shake hands with an old man. When shaking, he only has his hand touching mine slightly without gripping tight. Usually I’m annoyed when people do this, but when he does that, I know he is reluctant because his palm is really rough. Maybe he doesn’t want to dirty my hands. He replaces it with a friendly smile. We also shake hands with women sitting in front of their door, searching for lice in their friends’ heads. Now that I remember it, I also sometimes rub children’s head which have lice. I wouldn’t be surprised if I catch lice too, one of these days. Whereas in the school where I work, children with lice are not allowed to attend school to prevent spreading among the other students, which could cause hysteria among parents. It's like working in parallel universe, it challenges my theories and paradigm, it confuses me and grown more contradictions in myself. Considering that this is Jakarta, it is possible even that the two groups live in the same district separated by a tall wall (called ignorance). One is not forgotten, but they have been the subject of unattentional blindness like the invisible gorillas, by the people who dismiss the sight because their lack of importance. Or to some they're not even invisible gorillas, but cockroaches. A nuisance. But that's why I like cockroaches, they're indestructible. It is such a shame that people's hearts are obscured by artificial things.

We walk from houses to houses, until we find a small bridge that crosses a dirty river. Usually dirty rivers in the city is brown but this one is dark grey, almost black. The others pinch their nose when passing through.

After couple more turns, we found a river that defeats the black river in dirtiness. This river is piled with rubbish so dense and created an own ‘land’ until you cannot see the water. It has been piled up so deeply until even chickens can walk on the river. People blame ‘poor awareness’ when the fact is they don’t even have a proper disposal. If they do, would they make their house floor out of rubbish? In front of me, an old woman walks on a tall mountain of rubbish.

I walked with two tutors and a mother from one of our student. She is actively involved with the organization and we call her ‘Mama’ (but I think she calls me 'Andrea'). When she knows I didn’t bring lunch, she immediately goes back to her home and wraps me her cookings: rice, chilli shrimp and spinach. She also bought me a bottle of cold water that she bought in warung. So if you think poor people are stingy, you’re wrong my friend.

I remember all the other street vendors with their carts in my old neighborhood. I often receive their generosity, given free food when I’m sick, when I’m being regular costumer, when it’s already afternoon and they haven’t sold everything, or simply when they don’t have the change. Initially I get confused when they do this … Inside my head I wonder “don’t you need the money?” But I didn’t say it because they give genuinely. And people need to do good.

When I live in Medan before I thought to myself that Jakarta is too metropolitan for me. Cruel, arrogant, individualist, and hard to please. But right after my arrival I learn that those things are only one side of the city. I immediately fall in love with the city and the people inside. When I do my work late night, I know my friend the fried rice seller is also working hard right outside my gate. I never feel alone. Maybe because I’m wealthy enough I see the struggle romantic? But when I think of the pragmatic, it keeps me awake at night. Two other educators that I know also concern about the issue injustice. One thinks because the most of the money is regulated by small group of people, therefore that small group is the one needs to be educated (although Freire would strongly disagree), so she built school for the upper class. The other aims to work for government, to enter the system to fix the system probably? I’m asking myself if what I do is insignificant. Is it more effective to be in the system? But I realize that I'm personally attracted to struggle. I care more about stories than data. On relationships rather than bureaucracy. Not that one is more important than the others, but if everybody has to take own role, that’s the one that I aspire for. Not to regulate but to live in communion. I realize that what I do is still very tiny, but I’m learning and constantly searching for meaning..

Saturday, 10 September. I go again to the slum. It is back to crowded, people push each other again in the market. Boy scouts are running and goats eating vegetables from the stalls. I realize people don't stare at me anymore in there. Maybe I have blend in? hehe.. When I arrive there, all the children already there making arts and crafts. I join them in our cramped room and say hi to everyone that I haven’t met for weeks. The ones that are finished with the art&craft, I give them worksheets that I made with my drawings. I observe the children’s responses to the worksheets. The one that knows English better seem enthusiastic with the worksheet and the one that is not, ask if he can do it next week. I encourage him to do it now. I assist him and give him clues to the answer without him realizing. When he finds the answer, he thought he figures out by himself, and when I praise him, I see his eyes sparkling and he enthusiastically continues to the other questions. "Next! Next!", he said. He just needed to know that he can do it. Another boy looks like totally at lost watching his friends jotting down answers. He’s confusingly furrows his brows and he's like, “Lu pada nulis apa sih?” (“What the heck are you guys writing??”) Somebody hasn’t been paying attentiooooon :p

I have made some worksheets and simple materials like memory game to revise vocabulary. I already left some in the centre and some are still in process of making so that although I only come once a week, they could play the game and learn English even without me.

From Cipinang, I take a bus to Kampung Melayu. The bus was quite empty but unconsciously I sit next to a guy with a scary face and big body, even though there are empty seats next to women. Hmm, I am not traumatized by the previous event afterall. Good. In the bus, men get on and off to sell products to passengers. Books, massage tools, fruits,  mask, pens, special coins for kerokan, and some bizarre things. But in two years being in bus regularly I think I never saw people actually buy these things on the bus. Except for tissue maybe to wipe sweat. So when this guy came in and promotes his books, I thought, books are always useful, let me help this guy. Like the others, he emphasize how cheap he sells his products, he announced that the book he sells cost 24,500 at stores while he only sells 10,000, and don't bother to ask to have a look because all this sellers will make sure they put their products on each passenger's laps even if we don't want it, even if we don't touch or even see it, they'll just make sure it sits on your laps. It's a book about English-Indonesian vocabulary. Not a superb book (when I browse through, there's a picture of a hippopotamus, and it includes the way to read it, and it says: hipotames), well definitely cheaper than 10,000, but it could be some use to my children, you know, after I fix the hipotames thing. Sometimes friends owe you 10,000 and when she wants to pay you tell her don't worry about it if it's "only" 10,000. So why do you be generous to people who don't really need it? When I told him I want it, he looks happy. Unfortunately I only have a 50,000 note and he doesn't have the change. Maybe he hasn't sold many..or any since morning. He looks a bit disappointed but with a smile and a hope on his eyes he told me 'That's alright, maybe one day we'll meet again'. I hope so too.