from the horizon

On Saturday I was invited to the wedding of Joel and Desi. Joel was one of the transport officers who I had worked closely with. An Acehness wedding is quite a different affair to a western wedding.

It was held in the house of the bride’s family. Joel made his entry under an ornate umbrella which was held by one of the senior staff from our work. When he arrived he moved under an umbrella that was held by one of his wife’s family, symbolising their traditional adoption of the groom into their household.

After that the bride and groom moved inside the house, while food was served to all of the guests. I felt bad eating before I had even said hello to Joel, but that’s the tradition!

The Cooks!

Then it was customary for the guests to go to see the couple. The room where the couple were, was not only amazingly decorated, but amazingly hot! The walls and ceiling had been covered by beautiful fabric, the floor covered in rugs, and on one side there was an ornate throne like structure where the bride and groom sat. They were as beautiful as the room itself, in full traditional dress, which must have been cooking them alive!

Didn’t quite know what to call this post, was thinking about “My First Sharia Compliant Concert”. But since Richard said that he was telling people I was in Banda Achizzle (think Snoop Dogg ) ….

On Wednesday night the biggest pop/rock boy band Indonesia played a concert in Banda Aceh. As soon as I heard about it, I knew I had to go! I had absolutely no idea what to expect. I found the whole idea of a concert in Banda Aceh mmm insane. I had to go and see what it was like. On the day of the concert I heard that the local Imam had given the concert his approval if:
It didn’t start until after the 8pm prayers AND it was segregated!!!! That’s right, boys on one side, girls on the other. Dang!

A couple of other expats came round to my place first, and we had a few beers, because we wouldn’t be getting any at the concert! As we got close the the earthquake damaged stadium it began to feel just like it does back home when there is a big concert. Masses of people crowding the streets, food and drink vendors, etc.

When we got in the boys and girls went their separate ways to go listen to the music. However shortly we got bored in the boys section, and one of the local guys, Aulia said we could probably get into the girls section. He had some words to the policeman at the gate, and we were let in! He then turned to me and told me to call Nerys, one of the girls we were with, I looked puzzled. “I told him we were going to find your wife!”, he replied. Then we just had to jump a small fence, but everyone else was doing that too!

I felt like such the fox in the chicken cage. It was great! However there were quite a few guys on the girls side, so I didn’t feel too sacrilegious!

The band were excellent. Bear in mind that Indonesia has 230 million people so there is quite the home market. There were thousands of people there and they all seemed to be having such a good time. Apart from getting a great deal of attention from people (I’m not sure why, something about me being tall and foreign they say) the concert was very similar to one back in New Zealand. There must be a universal constant about young people liking to go out, listen to music and have a good time! Everyone was so friendly. And there was the fact that I’ve been relatively deprived here, so it was good to have the chance to go out and DANCE (that could be the other reason people were staring at me)!

Crazy party animals!

I got hit on by lady boys (wuria)!

Random girls kept coming up to me wanting their photo taken with me. Something about me looking like I was from a boy band. My friends said I should charge them, but I just got this photo instead.

Gratuitous Chin Shots!

Gig Chicks

Me and Oliver

Said, one of my drivers, and his wife

This is my local vegetable dealer!

I think events are better when security carry machine guns

Rock on Sharia Style!

The highlight of my night was probably when the man I was standing next to ask me if I could carry his daughter on his shoulders. I happily obliged, and soon was jumping up and down with her on my shoulders. I couldn’t really see, but apparently she was having the time of her life!

And she did the chin pose!

Leaving the concert was a slight ordeal, with thousands of people heading out onto the one main road. We got stuck in the crowd for about 20 minutes, and Nerys was getting worried about people getting crushed or a stamped. I reminded her that she was next to the biggest person in the crowd, however the mass of people just wasn’t moving. I then thought of the other way out of that stadium grounds, which I had found when I went running around there. So we gave up on the crowds, and went out the back way! Admittedly we did have to balance along a dirt track between two paddy fields, but we got out way ahead of the crowd. I definitely realised that I was getting to know my ‘hood around Banda Achizzle!

On Saturday night I attended a dance performance of the Sanggar Cut Nyak Dhien Dance Troupe. Erica, who works for the same NGO as me had helped to organise the event. The dance troupe is quite renown, and has performed internationally, however they lost a number of their older members in the Tsunami.

This was the first big performance since the Tsunami, and was held in the Governor’s Hall, to be attended by the Governor, other dignitaries, and a large number of expats.

The dancing was good, and interesting, however the traditional Acehness dance does lack the impressive physical feats which I enjoy seeing in modern dance in New Zealand. On the other side, I saw some other impressive things which I’ve never seen in a dance performance before! It was really nice to see this element of their culture, as well as seeing people perform and enjoy themselves.

I must confess the photos aren’t mine, the credit must go to the Sanggar Cut Nyak Dhien Dance Troupe!

This was the “Fight the Dutch” dance. Aceh was colonised by the Dutch, although it was a fairly bloody process in which four Dutch generals were killed. They were also one of the main provinces to rise up against the Dutch for independence. This dance was great, all of the woman dancers had the traditional Acehness knives which they used the defeat the male dancers who were dressed up as the Dutch!

This was really impressing, the women sat on stage, weaving ropes between them, then unraveled it into a net!

They also performed a traditional wedding ceremony.

I did have one huge complaint. The show started 2 hours later, even that was taking the “local time” joke a bit far. This was because we had to wait for the governor to arrive. Initially I was just annoyed at having to wait (although I was enjoying the snacks!). However soon I began to feel that this was a symptom of a much bigger problem. The idea that someone is so important that they can keep a whole room of people waiting for that long. The thought that people just expected to wait for the governor, because he was somehow more important than the rest of them and that the governor could be so inconsiderate not to think of everybody waiting.

It think this is evident of the problems with leadership in Indonesia, and I suspect much of the third world.

The wait spoiled the experience slightly for me. By the end I was kinda too tired to really appreciate it as much as I could have.

As it turned out the Governor never arrived, he had some important minister to entertain.

Just when I was getting worried about feeling detached from the actual experience of being in Aceh, I had a day which really drove home the fact that I’m not in Kansas anymore (Toto).This morning I found out that one of the house guards had been killed in a car crash the previous night. A number of people from work went to visit his family. I didn’t feel entirely comfortable going.

Then in my shopping around, I got approached by an Indonesian, who rather bluntly asked, “Denmark?”

Not quite catching on to the significance of what he had said, I replied cheerfully, “Tidak, saya dari Selandia Baru (NZ)”. His attitude changed and friendlily he shook may had, then said “Denmark”, and made a thaort slitting motion.

Somewhat taken a back, I reply, “Tidak (No), saya (I) suka (like) orang (people) Denmark, saya suka orang Indonesia, saya suka everyone”. He laughed, but I don’t think quiet caught on to my intents of compassion and racial harmony.

I’ll avoid getting into a debate about those cartoons, all I will say is that I don’t think anything gives you the right to kill someone. Not the least a picture. These may just be my values, but I consider them higher than any others which preach killing.

Coming back to the office, and in much contract to the grave news at the start of the day, their was a celebration for the wife, of another one of the guards, who was 7 months pregnant. I think the celebration is at this time, because the baby has made it through to a stage where the likelihood of a miscarriage is lower.

Like most Acehness celebrations this involved going to their house, eating (men outside, women inside). I always feel abit guilty but it’s the tradition. I’ll get them a present when the baby is born.

Later that evening I encountered a group of Acehness wielding knives. Fortunately this was just at an Acehness dance performance, I’ll put up more details once I get the photos.

The next day we went round with a new Expat, giving him a tour of Banda Aceh. To my surprise, I found that under the big supermarket, there was the recent creation of “Funland” a children’s entertainment center, complete with arcade games and all sorts of beeping. It seemed out of place, or maybe I was the one out of place, as I was twice the height of everyone else in there.

I then gave the new guy the Tsunami tour. This was a sobering reminder of why we are here. The destruction is still so clearly evident. One sign of the tsunami is the huge power generating barge which has been washed around 2 km inland. Have a look at the photo. Bearing in mind that this is filled with heavy equipment, it gives you an idea of the force of the wave. Poking out from under the barge are the crashed remains of a car. Who knows what else is entombed under all those tonnes of metal.

On Saturday night, through no fault of my own, I ended up at a UN party. I was expecting the antics which I’ve seen at the other parties which I have attended in Banda Aceh, but I was sadly disappointed.

Everyone was sitting round talking in very clichésque groups, the music was quiet, there was no dancing or any antics.

Now maybe I should just give some background to my views of the UN:

I really really really want to work for them. Well kind of at least. They are the top of the humanitarian career ladder. They pay more, they have job security, they are the big boys on the ground. They hold the coordination meetings for the other NGOs. They run the Humanitarian Air Service (UNHAS) which flies people round the field sites, they have a shipping service for cargo. You get a special blue UN passport.
I’d get to look down on all those volunteers who just turned up with their backpacks thinking that they could help! I would have made it.

And that was kinda the feeling I was getting at the party. Sure, I’d arrived late in the evening, and I still don’t know that many people in Banda Aceh, but I felt like I was back in high school. Everyone there was too cool.
Someone did point out that the harsher the conditions, the wilder the parties. Maybe Aceh’s got too soft, maybe I’ve got to go somewhere harder for better parties.

There is the other side to the UN, which came out when I was talking to one of the UNians. The UN is a system. And I got the impression that the people inside it were just cogs. The system has so much inertia, you kinda have to just go with it. There are procedures for doing things, and you have to follow them. Everything is issued from Geneva. I just there is some advantage to having standards across the organisation, but it does sound very dis-empowering.
That got me thinking about big organisations. There seems to be a trade off between organisational standards and efficiency, and flexibility on the ground, and people not feeling like they’re stuck in a box. I’m not sure where the balance is, but based on the fact the the world isn’t saved yet, I don’t think the UN has got it quite right. I’m not sure how I would actually find working for them, I’d be worried that I wouldn’t have enough opportunity to use my own initiative and creativity.
Giving up on serious conversation, I continued a debate from earlier in the evening, of which powerful woman guys would sleep with. It seemed to be a competition between Hilary Clinton and Condoleezza Rice. We couldn’t really think of any other powerful woman, although one guy did confess that he would sleep with both a Virgin Mary and Eve. I wasn’t sure what that would do to our gene stock.

It was shortly after this I pondered whether the UN had a Standard Operating Procedure for a Godzilla Attack, and started wondering if I should write one for them. At that point Jolene (works for another NGO, met her on the RedR Course in India) and her colleague Axel suggested it was time to go home.

The highlight of the evening was definitely one the way home, when we got caught up in an Acehness Motorbike Street Racing. Crowds of young men lined the streets, and we had to wait for a gap in the motorbikes which we hooning down the road before we could get past. I tried to persuade the driver to floor it, fortunately I was ignored.

Last week I received an email from someone I work with, which was forwarded from the Commonwealth Human Rights Network, which made me slightly embarrassed to be a New Zealander.

The basic story is that a business woman who owns a company which produces dog food, was offering food aid to Kenya which is currently in the grip of a famine. Check out the BBC’s Story.
Although the food which is being offered has been modified to be fit for human consumption, and is claimed not to be dog food, the whole situation does lead to some debate.

On the practical side I can see that her heart is in the right place. The food which she is offering will provide much needed nutrition in Kenya. She claims to have eaten the food mix herself. In fact if someone offered me some of it, I’d probably eat it, although I’m not exactly renown for being a fussy eater.

However I think there are bigger issues here. If you eat “dog food” to survive, where does that leave you? I think it is important to consider people’s own resilience and coping mechanisms. What happens to your sense of self worth after eating dog food?

Also it’s kinda patronising and arrogant to be giving “dog food” to people in need. Is that the best we can give Kenya while we munch on steaks and hamburgers? But considering the logistics of moving food, maybe this freeze dried mix is the best we can do.
Maybe the whole debate is just a PR slip up. If she hadn’t let people know of the connection to the dog food manufacturing, the food aid may have been gladly appreciated.

I think this story quite nicely shows how the issues in the development/aid world are never clear.

It was good getting back to Banda Aceh. Strangely enough I had this sense of coming home, to my own house, my own room, my own bed.

I could also be because I had bronchitis, so the comfort of people I knew (including my house mate who’s a doctor) was welcomed. After an X-ray to determine that it wasn’t viral pnenomia he had me of antibiotics and I was right in no time!

The work I’m doing has changed totally since coming back. I’m no longer assisting with logisitics, but now I’m designing on a logisitics database, which is pretty interesting. It’s more like the programming work I’m used to. On my first day back I got moved out of the logisitics department, into a spare room, which I’ve currently got to myself, although I’m getting company soon! It’s a bit lonely, but I’m totally loving 2 desks and huge whiteboard I have to use.

My Office!

On my way back to Banda Aceh I had to spend a couple of days in Singapore renewing my visa and doing some all important shopping!

Having spent so long in Banda Aceh, Singapore was fascinating. Big, organised and clean. One of the things which stands out in the Mass Rail Transit (MRT) System. It connects all of central Singapore with a network of stations. Trains come ever couple of minutes, making it very easy to get around.

But their is something unnatural about it. The underground stations are huge, artificial and disorientating. Escalators would carry me down 3 floors, to exactly where I wanted to be to catch the train. Except I didn’t actually have any idea where I was.

I never needed to gain my bearings, just follow the signs to get to the right place. I felt kinda detached from my environment.

But the environment was so unnatural anyway. Sterile, it lacked any natural shapes. Everything that was had been engineered that way. Even the art works were laid out exactly how some artist wanted them. It worried me that I could travel underground from one shopping mall to another without seeing, the randomness of clouds, or trees growing. Just like somewhere out of THX 1138.

And the people all seemed so detached. Isolated in the crowd, in their own little worlds. No chatter. Focused on the destination.

To an extent this sums up Singapore for me. Everything works, but people don’t really participate in it working. So what’s the point in it working?