Pond-ering
I'm not talking to Rohemon, our resident gardener and pond thief! I might not speak to Rusnati either--they must be in cahoots. Prior to leaving Jakarta last month, I had a nice friendly chat about the pond with Rusnati, who assured me that Rohemon was well aware of my hatred of the sly, ugly, mottled, bewhiskered goldfish gobbling ikan lele he has been growing in the pond. We had an understanding--at least I thought we did. The ikan lele were big, almost big enough to eat, then. By the time I returned home, those lele would have been dinner, and I'd have my pond back to grow whatever fish I wanted--cute, bubbly goldfish at least; dead skin gobbling spa fish at best.
It was dark and I was tired when I arrived home Wednesday evening, and frankly, I've been so befuddled since that I haven't wanted to face anyone, so I've stayed inside the last couple of days. But today is an Indonesian holiday so the house is mine! Early this morning, I wandered outside to inspect the pond. My heart rhythm began skipping to a happy beat when I saw it. Sweet Rohemon had culled the water hyacinth so now, it barely covered a third of the water surface. The waterfall was in full operation, splashing gaily into the cool, clear, apparently monster ikan lele-free water! Yippee!
Just to be sure I watched and waited, taking care not to cast a shadow over the water. (Those ikan lele are sneaky buggers.) A trio of sapu-sapu, algae eaters, lazily fanned their tails as they sucked the rocks, that was all. The only sign of fish life. I stood, conjuring an image of the happy fish I'd stock my pond with, the bright cushions I'd buy to line the edges, the way my feet would soon be tickle-tingling as I sat sipping wine while tiny fish nibbled my toes...what joy!
What fodder! The murderous monster ikan lele aren't gone! They were hiding. Lurking in the shadows. As the first kernel of fish food hit the water, one darted out, then another. At least three of them. Longer, fatter and more sinister looking than when I left.
Sometimes it is Just About the Fish
And sometimes it’s not? I have tried to ignore the pond, put it out of my mind entirely, just give up and leave it to Rohemon. I had nearly succeeded too. Many people who have outdoor water features don’t feed their fish. The idea is for the fish to eat what fish in the wild do. In fact, many people in Jakarta keep water plants in pots with fish, or ponds especially as mosquito deterrents. As is their way, the mosquitoes lay their eggs on the water, and as is their nature, the fish eat the insect eggs. This easy care mosquito reduction system which works great as long as you don’t care whether your fish are happy or starving.
We like fat, happy fish, so we feed them. Every day. We go through about a bag of fish pellets a month. Monday-Saturday Rohemon feeds the fish. And I feed them on Sundays—or did when I liked the pond fish. But ever since Rohemon stocked it with those pretty fish murdering monster lele, I have been trying to ignore the pond all together. Sunday before last, I lapsed. I was out back pruning as I do many Sundays, and took pity on the pond fish—even though I detest the rotten, slimy ugly monsters. I sprinkled food pellets over the water and watched.
A few lazy algae eaters drifted up to investigate--even took a few listless bites. But that was it. Where was the sudden flash of orange splotched monster fish? Where were the Ikan Lele? Thinking the lele might be too scared to surface; I took a giant step back and watched from a distance. Nothing.
The lele were gone—all of them, even the babies. I must admit, I was little disappointed and a lot put out. Rusnati tells me everything—or I thought she did—she had certainly made a point of telling tell me about the babies. And the high price of fish food. And how the thatch from my sun shelter clogs the filter. And when I discussed my idea about turning the pond into a fish spa by stocking it with those tiny fishlets that nibble the dead skin off ones’ feet at the price of 200,000 for 20 minutes, a dollar a minute, at specialized fish spas, she spent about 5 dollars worth of spa time sharing how when she was young and her mother would go to the garden, Rusnati used to sit with her feet in the pond and a fish net handy, enjoying a book or snack while the fish nibbled her feet. And if a large enough fish happened to come close, she’d swoop in with the net and catch it to cook and eat with rice. Why hadn’t she told me the lele were gone?
Had Rohemon finally fattened them up enough to eat? Or had Warjo, the pool man, poisoned them like he had other fish in the past? Or had they been sold off to the highest bidder?--would I ever know? Did I really care?--was it worth launching an investigation?
“Well, I’ll fix this,” I decided, determined to show everyone who was boss. Before leaving town last weekend, I gave Aan 100,000 Rp, about ten dollars, and instructed him to buy me 10 lovely, big, fluffy new golden pond fish.
First thing Sunday evening, I rushed outside to the pond, expecting to see graceful golden fish fluttering about beneath the surface.
Nothing.
I know, I know: There is more to life than a fish pond. And there is way more to think about, to worry about, to spend my days agonizing over than the state of my backyard pond. But….but…
Hatching Plans, Or Not...
I was reminded of a children’s book yesterday. Can’t remember the title, or much of the story, but it’s the one about the bird who sits and sits and sits on an egg, expecting a chick to hatch one day. Instead, what pops out is an elephant or dinosaur, or something equally outrageous. Remember it? That's sort of what has happened with my—THE—pond. (It began as my pond, but it’s not any longer. Yesterday’s revelation cinched it.) As you may recall from previous pond reports, after a difficult couple of years, which read very much like the pond world version of Russian history—poisoning, eye gouging, vivisection, deception, death and rulers being overthrown—the pond is now dominated by a school of slimy, white-black-orange splotched eel-like fish with beady eyes and whiskers. Not only are they ugly, they skulk in the dark recesses of the pond and only dart out to gobble food. The only creatures who have managed to evade their wrath are algae eaters, sapu-sapu, “sweeper fish” as we call them. They must taste really foul.
Rohemon introduced the lele into the pond about a year ago—and the evil monsters promptly killed off every specimen other than the aforementioned sapu-sapu. The only reason I could fathom for Rohemon wanting them is for eating. Ikan Lele is a popular Indonesian fish dish. Assuming he was raising them for future dinners—not a stretch as we have raised other fish that turned into dinner—and as the pond was bubbling along nicely as a stock pond, I decided to let the lele be. And came up with a plan…
The Plan was simple: As soon as the lele were fattened up, we'd slaughter them all, pop their nasty carcasses in the deep freeze and restock the pond with friendly little spa fish. All that would be left to do is edge the pond with colorful pillows, turn on soothing music, pour some wine and sip away with our feet dangling in the water, watching the spa fish nibble the dead skin off our toes.
Ever since hatching the plan, I have been monitoring the lele, watching them grow, waiting for the day they would be big enough to eat. Soon, I told myself, a few days back, they look dinner size. Maybe sooner…
Then, yesterday, Rusnati shared news that blew my lovely fish spa dream to smithereens. The pond is suddenly swarming with weensy, slimy, vile, skittish, bewhiskered baby monster lele. And so it goes with eggs and plans.
Pond, bahhhh. Rohemon can have it!
International Letter Code-Chapter 3
Languages are not Curtis’s strong suit. But usually, by using a combination of gestures, hand signals, other words and by rephrasing he can make himself understood. Over the phone, names, especially his name, seem to be extremely difficult to get across. In Indonesian, the letter “C” is pronounced “Ch” and the hard “C” sound is indicated by using the letter “K.” If it were me, I would probably settle for having my name spelled “Kurtes” and pronounced correctly. But Curtis, being Curtis--the same Curtis who once told me “no, no one does call him or has called him ‘Curt,’ except for this father, that is, and his father is dead"--is very particular about his name. So, in his ongoing battle to be understood, and correctly understood, Curtis has copied down the International Letter Code—two versions—and uses them when spelling out names. The other afternoon, thinking himself very clever, Curtis pulled out his International Letter Code to make a dinner reservation. “The name is Curtis. Curtis, as in Charlie-Uncle-Roger… and Bennett, spelled Bravo-Echo…”
When we arrived at the restaurant later, the maître de asked if we had a reservation. “Yes,” Curtis replied. Before he could begin to give his name, the maître de smiled:
“Oh, yes. Mr. Charlie, right this way…”
The International Letter Code worked so well, Curtis plans to use it when making all future reservations. From now on he’s going as Charlie Bravo.
Max Boon, SBY & Merah Putih: Messages of Hope
The Jakarta Globe published correspondence exchanged between Bombing victim Max Boon and Indonesian President Dr. Susilo Bambang Yodhoyono on the occasion of Indonesia's 64 year of Independence. Max Boon is a Dutch national and resident of Jakarta who was seriously wounded in the July 17th, Black Friday bombings. I have posted a PDF of the letters here: Boon and SBY Independence Day Letters This weekend a new Indonesian movie, Merah Putih, from the father and son team of Rob and Connor Allyn was released. Merah Putih, which means "Red-White", the colors of the Indonesian flag, was directed by Sugandi Yandi and is subtitled in English. The movie, set in 1947, is about "young Indonesian cadets who bond together despite their differences in religion, ethnicity, class and culture, to become guerrilla fighters for Indonesia's independence (Jakarta Post, Aug. 9, 2009)." It has the feel of those American black-and-white WWII movies we used to watch on weekend afternoons and late nights.
The film was inspired by "the real life experiences of the brave cadets massacred in Lengkong, and all the men and women who fought for a free and united Indonesia between 1945 and 1948." If the scenes depicted in the movie are true, and the violent, wonton massacres and deliberate destruction of property perpetrated by the Dutch soldiers really happened, then the relationship which exists today between the Dutch and Indonesians is truly a testament to the Indonesian's people’s warm hearts and forgiving spirits.
These letters between Boon and SBY, reaching me so soon after watching Merah Putih, made me hopeful. More hopeful that I have been since Black Friday. If after all the fighting, the killing, the destruction and oppression, Indonesians and Dutch Nationals have managed to reach the place Boon and SBY have—one of mutual respect and common humane goals (just as many other opponents from other wars have)— then one day, if we can manage to lift these children from poverty, if we can alleviate some of the suffering and hopelessness of poor families, if we can provide them a more hopeful future than that which comes from martyrdom, we have a chance.
As an aside, what is truly amazing and deserves to be emphasized with regards to Indonesia's fight for freedom is that the young people who came together from all over Indonesia did not share a common language. Yes, in 1945, along with Indonesian’s declaration of Independence from the Netherlands, the constitution stated that Bahasa Indonesia (bahasa means language) would be the official language. However, at that time, there was no clearly defined Bahasa Indonesia. People of each different region spoke different dialects and often completely different languages. If there was any common language it was Dutch, which was spoken by those who were either educated by or worked for the Dutch.
According to the Jakarta Post article, the idea for the film came after Rob Allyn (Don't know if that's the father or son) asked his friend, Hashim Djojohadikusumo, the owner of PT Media Desa Indonesia, about "two old portraits of Indonesian youths in uniform on his wall. Hashim told Allyn they were pictures of his two uncles, First Lt. R.M. Subianto Djojohadikusumo and Cadet R.M. Sujono Djojohadikusumo, who had died in the battle of Lengkong in 1946. Hashim's uncles were the brothers of Sumitro Djojohadikusumo, one of the founding fathers of Indonesia and the economic guru who helped win recognition of Indonesia's independence by the United Nations."
In 1945, after the Japanese surrender, the Dutch, recently liberated from the Nazi's, set about retaking control of Indonesia. After all, for around 300 years, Indonesia had belonged to them and they wanted it back. Many Indonesians wanted Independence strongly enough to fight for it. Intent on sharing the story of "brave young Indonesians willing to sacrifice their lives for the independence of Indonesia" with this younger generation of Indonesia - and to the world outside" the Allyns and Hashim set to researching and writing.
To know more about the movie: http://www.watchmoviesonlines.us/watch-merah-putih-2009-movie-online/
Indonesian Independence Day--Forecast Cloudy
August 17th is Indonesian Independence Day. This Monday marked its 64th year of Freedom. Here in Jakarta, Independence Day is an important holiday. The streets are festooned with Red and White banners and flags. Neighborhoods host block parties with food, games and competitions for the children. It’s like Fourth of July in the U.S.—minus the fireworks and potato salad—but with plenty of watermelon.
Jakarta definitely didn’t need fireworks or bombs bursting this year. We have had our share. Exactly one month ago, on July 17th, suicide bombers wreaked havoc in two Jakarta hotels, the Ritz and the Marriott. Employees and guest died in the blast, many others were injured and are still struggling to recover. We are all suffering and who knows when or how our world will recover?
On August 11th, it was officially announced that Noordin Top: Terrorist, martyr recruiter, horror organizing, terrorist, believed to have masterminded the Black Friday bombings, was not killed in the 18 hour-long shoot-out with police last weekend. Rather, the dead man-who does not deserve to be named here-was a florist at the Ritz Carlton Hotel. “It was ironic,” stated the What’s New Jakarta Newsletter of Aug 12th, “that someone who is capable of attempting mass murder was considered a funny and talented flower arranger by his colleagues.” I call it frightening.
As for the suicide bombers themselves: One has been identified as an “18 year old from a complex in Bogor” (a city near Jakarta). According to neighbors, this boy—a victim of Top’s particular brand of brainwashing—which includes the promise of heaven with virgins for the using and monetary payment and glory for the bomber’s families—was “described by neighbors as quiet and polite even though he came from a troubled home with his father imprisoned a year ago for robbery and his mother living in Kalimantan after a messy divorce.”
Who can celebrate freedom and independence when boys and girls are so trapped and hopeless they can be conned into believing in Top’s “ticket to heaven”? That their salvation comes in the form of explosives strapped to their backs?
Jakarta Bombing; Indonesia’s Children
Post bombing news is circulating quickly as authorities piece together events leading up to the suicide bombings of Friday morning, July 17th. In conversation, when the bombing is mentioned, the second or third question people ask me, as a resident of Jakarta, is “how do I feel about living there?” The question is asked in that cocked head, furrowed brow way meaning, “Aren’t you scared?” I am scared. Although not because I feel a sense of personal danger. I am scared for Indonesia, for its children—children who will suffer if the factions who plan, coordinate, finance these bombings get what they want. Especially scared for these children, so desperate or brainwashed, who willingly strap on bombs and blow themselves to bits.
Another bomb was found in a guest room at the Marriott. Purportedly, those who orchestrated these bombings checked in on Wednesday and “check out” was that day, Friday July 17th. No reports have said whether a room had similarly been rented at the Ritz as no unexploded bombs or bomb-making equipment has been found there. This Wednesday-Friday stay means these bombers spent time in the hotel; it wasn’t just a walk by. What went through their minds as they walked through the opulent lobby outfitted with plush carpet, mirrored and gilded walls and ceilings? Did they flop into the middle of the bed and sigh as they sank into the cushy down comforter and mound of pillows the way my daughter does when we check into a hotel? Did they luxuriate in a warm, scented bath? Slather themselves with lotions? Try on the terry robes and slippers? Did staying in that room—large enough to fit 2 of their mean family homes, and costing more rupiah per night than they may have ever seen—delight or sicken them? Did watching the wealthy toss back coffee and cocktails costing more than they might have earned in a week of manual labor fuel their zealotry?
What must the circumstances of these childrens’ lives be that they would willingly blow themselves to bits? A few days before the bombings an armored car was robbed. Something like a million and a half in US dollars was stolen. The belief is that at least a portion of the stolen money was given to the families of the suicide bombers. A reward for given their child to the cause. Their child detonates a bomb, murders him or herself and countless others and they move uptown with the proceeds. Is their status in the community elevated because they gave—sold—their children for the cause?
What about that other bomb? The unspent bomb left behind in the luxury suite. It may have been brought along just in case…or maybe there was supposed to be three children sacrificed that day. Three bombs detonated. More humans murdered and maimed. More destruction. Did that third child back out? Did he or she balk at murder—of him or herself or others? Maybe a tiny hopeful feeling, an inkling of desire for a future, still smoldered within that third child. I hope so.
Bombings in Jakarta
Shortly before 8:00 the morning of Friday, July 17th, 2009, bombs exploded in two of Jakarta’s luxury Hotels, the Ritz-Carlton and the Marriott Hotel. The hotels are across the street from each other, in central Jakarta. They are hotels where visiting expats often stay and where local expats--Curtis, me, our friends--gather for charity events and balls, bazaars, and meals. Sunday brunch at both of these hotels is a popular. We enjoyed Mother’s Day brunch at the Ritz this year. One man with whom Curtis works was staying at the hotel, but was not near the blast. Here is an excerpt from the first security company report I received:
Up to nine people were killed in nearly simultaneous explosions at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel and the Marriott Hotel in central Jakarta today, Friday 17 July 2009. Police sealed off the area... Police report the use of a high explosive. Damage to the Ritz Carlton, especially to the Airlangga Restaurant, is reported to be extensive. Damage to the JW Marriot to is at the car park entrance area with extensive blast damage to glazing in the interior lobbies of the hotel. The majority of fatalities had been at the Ritz Carlton and include foreign nationals among them. Sources at the scene report the possibility of more bodies inside the hotels. Witnesses reported that one of the explosions also damaged the lobby of the nearby Plaza Mutiara building.
Victims have reported seeing a very bright white flash at the point of the explosion at the Marriott hotel, with burns reported and a fog-like smoke. One of the explosions reportedly occurred on the third floor of Ritz Carlton, where a restaurant is located.
Indonesia police have subsequently reported that they found an unexploded bomb in a room of the JW Marriott hotel in Jakarta today. It was found in what police said was the “control centre” for the attacks. It was defused as police searched the hotel.
Later in the day the report was updated:
This morning's attacks appear to have been sophisticated, well planned and coordinated in order to carry out almost simultaneous attacks on two separate, well guarded and iconically named targets. Both locations deploy extensive security personnel.
So far no group appears to have taken credit; but the level of sophistication, the obvious amount of pre-planning that would be necessary for such an attack and the targets and timings would tend to indicate the implication of the Jemaah Islamiyah (JI) terrorist network in the attack. This supposition is supported by the fact that at least one of the attacks is believed to have been a suicide bomber, and this was the method of attack used by JI in the 2002 Bali bombings. Expert sources have suggested that the JI’s Noordin M. Top maybe behind the blasts.
Police sources at the scene have indicated that the Ritz Carlton attack was the work of a female suicide bomber (the first of its kind in Indonesia) as traces of a suicide vest have been found with her head separated from her body (indicative of a suicide attack). It is not yet clear as to what the delivery mechanism was at the Marriott Hotel, but the apparent size of the blast could also be that of a suicide/motor cyclist bomber.
In the years between 2002 and 2005 there were other similar bombings: The 2002 Bali bombings which killed 202 people; the previous Marriott Hotel was badly damaged by a car bomb attack in 2003, which killed 12 people; in 2004, the Australian Embassy in Jakarta was bombed, killing 10 people and wounding 161; and in 2005, Bali was bombed again and more people were wasted.
Nine humans—daughters, mothers, fathers, sons, friends—were murdered by these July 17th bombings; 40 others were physically wounded. And all of us—all of Indonesia, all of humanity—was injured.