Our Exciting Journeys on Saturday

Saturday July 23

We were looking forward to our usual busy Saturday, with our last session for Nommensen students who are Sunday School teachers in the morning, rescheduled for earlier in the morning so we could go with Mar for a tour of a senior high school in a small village far away, and then in the later afternoon Jacob was scheduled to go swimming with friends. We have not been to the swimming pool yet and planned to go as a family to make Jacob comfortable with the idea. He envisions it being jammed with giggling girls who will not allow him to do any swimming in peace.

Our SS class went well. The change in the time kept the number of attendees down, but we ended up with around 20. As in past classes, we sang a lot of songs, played some games as examples of what can be done in a classroom, and prayed. It was another great class, in terms of the enthusiasm and interest of the students. Since it is the end of the semester, this is the last time we will see some of the students. On our way rushing out the door for the Mar meeting, Hanna, one of the students, invited us to go to church with her the next morning. We had actually been trying to figure out how to get to the HKI church for Sunday, but since we had no commitment we accepted the invitation to Hanna’s GKPS Church. All of these different Christian churches evidently share the same theology but have come from different ethnic traditions, with a Western worship style layered on top.

So at 10:30 we went off with Mar, with two college girls Erni and Maylena along for the ride. Every time we go to one of these events with Mar, Nommensen sends along a few students or Marnala to accompany us. I’m glad we had Erni and Maylena along because it turned out to be a long, long day going to the SMA Negras 1 School in Huta Bau Raja. I imagine you have never heard of this school or this place before. Not as surprise, as the head of the school teacher organization who was driving our vehicle was not able to find it either. We started off on the road heading northwest out of Siantar. I believe it was northwest, but nobody here understands north/south/east/west and I don’t have a detailed roadmap. But it felt like northwest. When I have the time I will have to Google Huta Bau Raja and see if anything comes up.

As the time passed, we turned onto roads that became narrower and narrower. The street became more potholes than road. At several points the car had to be steered around the huge potholes because they would have swallowed us up. It was so bumpy with the potholes that it became a joke, and Jacob made a video of us bouncing around. It was time for schools to be letting out and there were many students walking along the road as we drove through a small village. Some of them had hitched rides on micro-buses and we hanging on the sides or up on top.

We took a left at a T-intersection once instead of a right, and ended up driving past a school….we thought we were there! Finally! The driver stopped the car, rolled down the window, and yelled out a question to some girl students. They either didn’t understand him or didn’t know the answer (he was probably asking about our destination school and that would be like asking someone in the Carter community where Oliver Springs Elementary is located). After a few loud phone calls, the car was turned around and we drove back through the small village, returning to our T intersection and heading the other way. Then we made a turn onto a very very narrow road. Just wide enough for the car. Rice fields were on both sides, with a big water channel running right next to the road. We saw two water buffalos in the field and since it was on Jacob’s side, I handed him the camera for photos. Seemingly on cue the main buffalo squatted down and did his business. Jacob was grossed out but everyone else in the car was amused. Unfortunately Jacob’s photo was blurry, since we were zipping along the narrow road. And then we arrived! What a blessing, we did not have to bounce around in that car any more. The car did have AC which was nice, but we were ready to get out and make sure our balance still worked.

We staggered out of the car and took a look around the campus, which consisted of four buildings arranged in an “L” bordering a football field, a flagpole, and a set of concrete steps likely used by the headmaster from which to address all the students. There were no students to be seen. Erni, Maylena and I immediately asked for a bathroom after the long ride. The school officials got a sheepish look on their faces and commented “but there is no water”. This did not bother me, I did not want to take a bath or even wash my hands. They led us to the toilets, located beside the main building. One of them did not have a door that closed, the other did. The girls took one look inside the first bathroom, with the operating door, and immediately said “no!” Jacob had joined our expedition and he selected the first, while I took the remaining one with jammed door. You will have to see the pictures, but my toilet reminded me of one I came across in a nasty gas station near the Detroit airport. Memorable! There was green moss or mold everywhere. The squat toilet was full of rocks, bottles and debris. And yes, there was no water! The officials told the truth. In Jacob’s stall, meanwhile, he discovered there was not even a squat toilet. You just went on the concrete floor and then gravity gradually ushered it towards a hole in the corner. A nice use of physics, although without any water to help it along, the process could take a long time. But nobody is in a hurry here so I guess it’s OK.

After that adventure we rejoined Nancy in the room full of teachers. At that point it dawn on me that we had been sold a false bill of goods: this was not a tour of a senior high school, this was another teacher meeting, which just happened to be held at a senior high school. We took our usual positions at the head table in front of the room. As is customary, everyone at the front table smoked and gave no consideration as to where their smoke went. We finally made enough of a scene that they put someone who was momentarily not smoking by us. The program began and there was a head lady that was kind of the master of ceremonies. She would read things off of a script, word for word. We assume this was all in Bahasa Indonesia, but we were so far out in the sticks that it could have been several different languages (Batak, Simalun). Since Mar and the others came from Siantar, though, I assume it was Bahasa Indonesia. The point is that we could not understand more than one word every hundred or thousand words. We sit there and smile and try to act like we are listening, but we have no idea what they are talking about and it is rare that someone thinks to translate even the main concepts for us. There were one hour of speeches but various guys, I assume talking about how the teachers organization is fighting to support the teachers, that budget cuts are coming and the teachers can’t live without the organization, and can you believe we convinced these big white people to drive all the way out here to see you?

Meanwhile there was a big effort to get the Infocus (LCD projector) to work. We were told that the school was so far out in the sticks that they didn’t even have an Infocus. But we figured out that because the big boss was making a presentation after us, that he arranged to bring along an Infocus. Because there is such a fluctuation in the electrical supply, which would blow out the LCD light bulb, the projector was hooked into a very serious looking voltage regulator. The tape used to hold the power plug into the outlet on the regulator was a nice touch!

Finally the last of the warmup speakers concluded, and it was decided to have lunch. We were excited to see what they would bring us, hoping it would top the “fish in a banana leaf” we got at the last teacher meeting. We were mildly disappointed when they brought us cute little white paper packages containing a lump of rice, some red pepper spices, a few green leaves looking like wilted spinach, and a piece of chicken. Not a crunchy KFC delight, but a rather greasy looking wing (in my case) that did not stimulate my appetite. I looked over and Nancy’s contained a nice chunk of breast meat, so I volunteered to turn hers into a vegetarian friendly lunch. In addition to the white paper package they also gave everyone a little Baggie, sealed with a rubber band, containing some juice and spices. We called it “liquid fire” because the juice was pretty spicy (lips numb spicy) and that was without any of the chunks of spice. Jacob didn’t even use any of the liquid fire and the rice with red pepper was still hot enough to make him sweat (extra- in addition to the sweat from heat) and also to set his mouth blazing.

So now that all 40 of the teachers in attendance were full of their blazing hot lunch, which of course none of them have a problem eating, it was time for us to give our presentations. I looked out in the audience and they were all slumped down a little in their chairs, fanning themselves, ready to take a nap. We were doing presentations, as requested, on basics of American Culture in High School and also Technology Use in High School. We have five or six photos in the Culture presentation of an American football game, cheerleaders, marching band, kids at prom, and Barrack Obama. We really should just dispense with the rest of the presentation and show those because that’s what the audience reacts to. With that show wrapped up we moved into the Technology presentation. I started by asking Mar to survey the audience, “how many have email accounts?” Of 40, 2 held up their hands. How many have Facebook accounts? This time, 4. How many had internet access at home? 2. How many had internet access at school? 0. A flat whopping zero! Of course, if they don’t have running water at school and all electric devices must be plugged into a voltage regulator, access to the internet probably doesn’t make it onto their list of the Top 100 Things We Need.

My presentation explained how technology is used at Hardin Valley Academy. It centered around the use of the internet for classroom instruction, research and communication, and the availability of computers and internet access at the school. When I mentioned that all teachers had laptops, that struck a cord because evidently that is one of the themes being pushed by the teachers organization. I should have asked the teachers how many had a computer or access to one. I bet not many.

With that wrapped up, it was question time. We had two main questions. The format for the questioner is to introduce themselves, thank the speakers for their great presentation, and then to ask a really long question, which could go on for five or ten minutes. Thank goodness they end with “Trema casi” thank you, so we can tune in again. Then the question is translated into about two sentences and off we go. The first question was “do you have any naughty children at your schools?” and the second was “we do not have any of this technology, how can we still teach our students?” As usual, we gave great answers which were then translated into very long explanations. We think that the translator (Mar) probably throws in his answers to the question while he is briefly translating what we say.

We thought, OK, we are done, we have had lunch, let’s have the traditional closing ceremony and go home. It was already past two and Jacob had his swimming appointment for 3. But then the big boss got up and entertained the group for almost an hour. Though we could not understand what he was saying, Mar provided some basic translation for us. He spoke about bad teachers and good teachers. When he would describe bad teachers the audience would howl. He showed them ways to get the students involved. I’m sure his message was solid, and we were shocked because in the past two teacher meetings he has just sat there and smoked. We had no idea he could do a presentation like that. On the way home we about his background and he taught primary school for a while, then high school, was a headmaster, then headed up a school for students with mental retardation for many years before becoming head of the teachers association.

When he finally finished it was time for the closing ceremony. Everyone had to make a little speech, and you’d think some of these guys were either running for President or long winded Pators, because they would talk forever. Then it was time to present not just us, but all the big visitors with an ulos, and take lots of pictures. Then we were told it was our turn to give a closing speech and I told them thank you for the great time. The mc lady kept loudly whispering something at me and I had no idea what she was saying. She said it three or four times, then I heard the words “thank them” and ulos. She was getting pretty upset with me and she was a stern lady! So I thanked them for the ulos and the ceremony resume. Everyone in the entire room came by in a line and shook our hands. We packed up and headed out the door. Since everyone was ignoring us for a minute we thought maybe we’d escape the traditional ordeal of picture taking. No such luck! When we stepped out of the school building they were already starting to line up on the field. It was like wedding photography, they had to take pictures of us with the primary school teachers, and middle school and then the high school teachers, with the big bosses, without the big bosses, with the headmaster, with the mc lady. Then everyone pulled out their camera phones and we had to have 10,000 individual pictures taken. I bet some of those teachers weren’t telling the truth about having Facebook accounts because after the picture was taken they’d show it off to their buddies and say “Facebook”. After that we staggered back to the car and headed home. We were happy to stop by the water buffalo for some pictures, and we were happy when the driver, the big boss, said we were going back by a different road which was longer but did not have all the potholes. It turned out to be faster and gave us a view of slightly different countryside. We were anxious to get home and collapse. As we entered the outskirts of Siantar, the big bosses’ phone rang and he had a short conversation. Then he asked me “do you like mie?” I thought he had said “meat” so I asked him for some explanation. Once I understood he meant mie (noodles) then I told him yes. He asked if we had ever had mie in Siantar before (this city is known for it’s mie!) I told him that we had been to many mie shops in Siantar. He then declared that we would all stop on the way for a dinner of mie. I was about ready to bail out of the car while it was still moving. Their hospitality is great but there is no concept of time and how tired a foreigner gets on such a trip, especially one that doesn’t turn out to be anything like what was expected. We get tired of not being able to manage our schedule and our lives. When we agree to the simplest request then it swells into a huge commitment.

We all protested vigorously enough to convince him that mie was not a viable option and he took us home. Outside our home we had the goodbye ceremony where we shake everyone’s hand again and tell what a good time we had. We collapsed in the house and contemplated what we would do with our freedom for the evening. We were frustrated because our cell phone was no longer working. Luckily Anton the graduate student showed up to ask us about a Monday appointment, and Nancy asked him about the phone. He explained that our credit had run out, so we would have to put money into the account. We asked him how to do this, and the answer got complicated, so he just pulled out his cell phone, pushed a few buttons and said “done!” He transferred enough money into our account to make our phone work for another week. We will pay him back on Monday. This is an example of something that can be done simply but is so different from how our cell phone contract works at home that it is difficult for them to explain it to us and difficult for us to understand.

With our cell phone working again, we turned out thoughts toward dinner. We had talked about going to Pizza House for several weeks but it had not fit into our schedule. It sounded like a good break from rice and mie, plus it would be an adventure we could control. Pizza House is not located near the KFC or the CFC, both locations that are easy to reach by micro-bus. To get to Pizza House by micro-bus we would need to guess right at our stopping place (hard to do even in the light) and then walk about a city block before we’d see it. So we decided to walk. Of course it started to rain. We waited for it to slow to a drizzle, then headed out, determined to get our first pizza in the entire month of July. We had a flashlight but it is still difficult to walk along the street here in the dark. The sidewalk is uneven, disappears often, and sometimes is completely blocked by parked motorbikes or vendor stalls. After a long walk and some exciting crossings of large intersections, we arrived at Pizza House. It is a franchise pizza place with most of the employees wearing polo shirts. They had a full menu that was ten pages long, with color pictures. They even had a cute little salad bar, the first we’ve seen here. We felt like we had accomplished something, having arrived by foot through the rain and the dark. After studying the menu closely we decided to play it safe and get the “plain cheese” and the “All American” pizzas. Sadly, they did not have Coke Zero for Nancy. Sadly, their beer selection was non-existent. I believe that serving alcohol is viewed as “anti-family” here, so they don’t offer it in a family type restaurant. I have not seen it offered in many places at all. The pizza was good. Not American or Italian good but “I’m dying for pizza and this is all I have” good. I would say the pizza was somewhat similar to Pizza Hut in that the crust was pretty thick and oily on the bottom. Several of our friends told us they did not like the pizza at Pizza House. I think that is because the pizza was not spicy enough for their taste. We had pizza left over and we asked the waitress if we could take it home. She thought for a moment, the wheels were turning, and then she said “Pack it!” She whisked our pizza away, reached into the stack of pizza boxes, and wrapped our box up with a pretty ribbon. The box included several small packets of chili sauce and ketchup. I believe many of the locals can only eat a piece or two of pizza, as it is so filling and they are used to just rice or mie. So “Pack it” is a common thing for the Pizza House. We caught a micro-bus home. It is always easy to get back, all you have to say is “Nommensen” and “kampus” and they stop right in front of the gate without us even having to say “binggear bong” which means “stop here”.