301 Posts: Time to Update!

It's a good thing when you're too busy to blog, because it means that you are, well, busy.  I like being busy, depending on how to define the word.  To me, it means not waking up and wondering "I wonder what I can do today" and instead wake up thinking "excellent, first I will meet with this person, then I'll go there for a bit and do that errand, and then I'll tackle this project at home or cook/bake that...."  For all of my children's lives, up until living in Indonesia, I've taught them that you can't be bored, you're just being boring (need to use some imagination, get creative, find something to do!!).  That changed when I got here.  I got bored.  Many times.  You can only paint so many rooms, bake so many cakes (then later find out that those cakes are poisoning your body and now you need to learn how to make new versions of those cakes), and study so many pages of language or whatever the study of choice is for the week.  After 3 years of living here, I finally feel established.  I do things.  I'm beginning to have a better understanding of what I like to do, what I'm good at, and to be able to admit those things I'm not good at.  It's been stretching living here, but it's all good.  Right now we're on holidays (Lebaran) and have days of plans ahead.

The kids have headed off to Ruff Camp, which is being held in the 1000 Islands.  Trivia for you:  these aren't the same 1000 Islands that the salad dressing is named after, at least that's what we've heard.  Tris and I have 4 kidless days ahead of us, and we're kind of just wandering around our house trying to figure out where to start.  Is this what it's like when empty nest sets in??

Time of departure was 6:30 am and so at 6:31 we were waving goodbye to a carload of kids. At 8:00 Tris and I headed off with 2 other families to an orphanage that our family goes to about once a month (we're on a rotational schedule).  My favourite part of our morning at the home was when a little guy, Aditya, stood up, looked around, saw that my legs were crossed in sitting position and unattended, and came and plunked himself into them.  After a few moments he grabbed each of my arms and wrapped them around his little body.  And I was worried I might overstep by side-hugging the little ones.  These guys are used to visitors coming in and loving on them, and I can't think of a better perspective for them to have:  hey, you're here to love me, wrap your arms around me and let's sing together!

Thanks for reading.

Yard Sale!

I've been grinning since Friday just before 3 and haven't stopped since.  Well, maybe a few times, but the grin keeps coming back.  The charity group that I belong to held a Yard Sale on Friday afternoon and Saturday morning, and it was so fun for everyone involved.  Our goal was to collect enough "goods" to sell to the local drivers, helpers and yard maintenance workers (hired by the village to keep the place looking good) at really cheap prices, while raising some money for the medical fund for underprivileged children that we're involved with at the local hospital.   The first reason for my grinning?  My expectation, with having mostly clothes and small items, was $200-300, while my friend Dalenea's was a little higher at $500.  We ended up raising approximately $700 US in little less than 5 hours.

Sales like these are not all that common here.  In fact, we've only ever seen a similar sale at our school, held through the Parents Committee, and that one is usually quite successful too.  The second reason for my grinning?  Every time I see a helper or driver that knows I was part of the event asks me "Mrs, when's the next sale??"   Realistically, probably once or twice a year is enough with all the collecting and work that goes into one, but when I give that answer it brings a smile every time.  Now regardless of what position I hold this time next year in the charity group, I'll have to push for a 2nd Annual Yard Sale.

The 3rd reason for grinning is that every person who bought clothing at the sale that I've seen since Saturday has been wearing something they bought for themselves.  This morning my helper arrived from her home with a big smile on her face, her new pretty, green shirt on, and again, with the question "when is the next one?"  When we went shopping, I tapped on the window of my friend's car, waved hello to her waiting driver, and the next thing I know he's popped up next to my car with his new, long-sleeved men's dress shirt on, grinning, and helped us unload the groceries into my car.

To be honest, we could just give the things away that we collected.  In fact, with having help in our homes, that is usually what we do with anything that our children have outgrown or we've become tired of (kind of sad, isn't it, that we become tired of things so easily).  However, the buzz that was at this Yard Sale, and the sense of community was really neat.  Although the pace was really, really fast (can you say mind-spinning!?) most of the time, and we were all dripping with sweat, tired and thirsty, it was really fun to help people shop, make change, work as a team and, in the last hour, to practically give things away for free.  The guy who walked away with a swivelling office chair for about 20 cents didn't really know what to do with the chair (rode in on a motorbike) but was ecstatic he'd bought himself a chair.  My friend's helper didn't need anything, but she bought a bunch of baby clothes for her sister in their home village 12 hours away.  One security guard isn't married yet, but he bought a wooden high chair, some lamps, and a set of wooden blinds for a couple of dollars, for who knows who.  He went back and forth on his motor bike a few times just to haul his treasures away.  Each time he rode with a grin.  That made the collecting, sorting, printing, cutting, taping, sticking, folding and hauling all worth it.

Thanks for reading

"Back from the Ashes of Merapi" by Amelia Merrick

Below is a piece written by my Canadian friend, Amelia Merrick, interim national director for World Vision Indonesia. She has the privilege of traveling quite a bit throughout the islands of Indonesia, and unfortunately she also has opportunity to witness some pretty sad, overwhelming events. Many of these events are caused by natural disasters, such as one of Indonesia's most recent ones, the eruption of Mount Merapi in Jogjakarta. Merapi is 8 hours from us by train, one and a half hours by plane.

"Children greet me as I open the car door at the Kali Adem Displacement Camp. To my left is a group of boys hanging around a small leaf-less tree while they read comics together. A couple of girls sit off to the side peeling and placing stickers in their activity book, enthralled by the delicate and colourful images. A large blue tent is to the left and from within the tent I hear children’s laughter. Three university students, with cool printed t-shirts and funky hair styles are in the tent, showing a dozen pre-teens how to take photos and play guitar. If I didn’t know better, I would think this were summer camp.

But moving inside the long and hot community centre I am instantly brought back to reality. This is a Displacement Camp where 400 people from Kali Adem, a tiny dairy village at the very top of Mount Merapi, are now without homes, cows or fields. Mothers, fathers, grandmothers and babies sit on rolled mats, colorful walls of neatly folded clothes mark out their family’s space. A few drinking glasses, weathered school books, motorcycle helmets and beaten card-board boxes that safely store the last remains of their belongings are stacked in the 4 x 6 space they now call home. Fresh laundry - faded jeans, bras and underwear, children’s pyjamas – are strung across every window pane and doorway.

I go to meet the village leader – she is a slight woman draped in a shiny purple head scarf. She shows me a picture of her village - it is a whitened moonscape, lava has covered their entire village. It looks like a desert dusted with ash, or like a barren field after a heavy snow fall. There is no evidence of homes, cows or fields. It is just grey and dusty. Before I can write down the name of this fragile village leader she breaks into tears. I have been to dozens of Displacement Camps but still there are never words to comfort someone who has lost everything.

I speak to Ibu Suyami (38) and Ibu Dartoyaho (55) and they tell me they are confused. They have moved seven times since Mount Merapi starting spewing its noxious gases. Their first Displacement Camp is now singed black, the boxes of emergency supplies burned by the hot volcanic cloud. The second Displacement Camp was too crowded. They are like “The Fish out of Water” – being transferred from one cramped bowl to the next, on a desperate journey to find a place that can hold them. Though this community centre is too small for their village they are glad that they are have settled amongst their neighbors again. At least they are together with friends and family.

Ibu Suyami and Ibu Dartoyaho tell me that they have lost everything – there houses are gone, their cattle are dead. They don’t have a plan, they don’t know what comes next. They are bored living in the camp. They miss their work. The children want to play soccer again.

It was over a month ago that they ran from their villages, and while they are glad to be alive they long for an end to this terrible nightmare. Sadly, the world has already woken and the people of Mount Merapi are quickly being forgotten as we move into our busy day." 

http://www.worldvision.ca/give-a-gift/Crisis-Child-Partner/Pages/SavingChildDisasterVictimsinIndonesia.aspx

Thanks for reading, and thanks Amelia for letting me "borrow" your post.

A Chapter-Long Letter from the Heart

Dear Mom and Dad

This morning you were both on my mind. I was wishing you could have walked with me and spent the morning doing what I was doing. It was a life-giving day, one that made me once again appreciate the life I have been given.

Do you remember a post I wrote months ago, about the hole

in a cement wall that lead me out of Lippo Village and into village life, a life that the majority of Indonesians live? Today I went through another one, and unfortunately, like some holes, it wasn't magical in any way. I went with 5 other ladies, organized through Karawaci Ladies, and we saw poverty again. Poverty is everywhere here, yet we so often just see it from a distance. Today we touched it, smelled it, and had it splash up our legs in the form of sludge, made up of filthy river water, garbage run-off, and quite possibly human waste.

Our morning started with the 6 of us ladies meeting at my house, and we

drove 2 vehicles to a regularly-flooded slum area, under the guidance of a woman who works daily with the poor, and especially with children. Her heart is huge and her enthusiasm is rather contagious. Between this woman and our group we had 50 bags of grocery essentials to hand out. Once we got there, local ladies packed into a really small room, coupons in hand, ready to be given a bag of food that might just be the mainstay of their entire week. The bags were handed out quickly, in a very organized manner, and the 6 of us were able to tour the small

village as we helped women pack the groceries to their tiny, dark, cement/brick/wood homes. Some of us ended up in one woman's home, Ibu Emi, and she and her 17 year old daughter told us of their situation. Like most people in this area, her husband was out of work, and they have no money. Even their rent of $25/month is steep for them. Fortunately, their eldest son works at a reputable bookstore chain that has a program where he can work and attend school as well. If you look at the photo of women sitting in a circle chatting, what you see is the entire home. The kitchen area is in the background, the living room (tv) is to the left, the bedroom (wardrobe, vanity) to the right, and the bedroom is right where we were sitting. The bedrolls were leaning up against the corner behind where I was standing while I took the photo. Noises from the home next door, which was divided only from the home we were in by a wood similar to plywood, made it seem like the neighbours were in the room with us.

After our short visit with these lovely ladies, we toured the village a bit, mostly to allow me to get a few good shots of the area.

One of these is a photo of the still water that lies around the village, gathered in-between floods. Another is of a young boy fishing in

a large, very fluorescent green fish pond. I'm not sure how healthy the water is, because although it is green, it is right next to the public toilets, which are 3 cement outhouses that run into the ground.

I have been blessed throughout my life to see a variety of villages in Mexico, the Philippines, here in Indonesia, and even a few really sad ones in Canada, that range from poor to dirty poor

to illegal-squatting, garbage-collecting slums. Blessed because I have had opportunity to move outside of my comfortable bubble, and blessed because I get to go home to health, comfort, food, and safety. This particular village is actually one of the 'nicer ones' that our hostess works in, yet it is still not a nice place to live. It is right on the river, and anytime it rains, the homes get flooded. In this photo of a classroom, our hostess shows us how high the water rises. At the back of the village the water rises even higher. I'm including a photo of Amanda standing on the bridge that connects this village with one across the river. The most difficult thing to hear was that during flooding, even in times of dire need, this is the only exit from the area for the villages. The hole that we used to enter the village is unavailable to the villagers

themselves, because it exits into a rather posh neighbourhood. Take a good look at the bridge; it's not all that sturdy.

As we were walking, two ladies were washing their clothes and dishes at a communal water faucet.

The river is directly behind them.

One final thing I saw that was new to me was a small 'bakery,' where the young men of the village are employed for $2-3 per day, making pancake-like 'skins' for some snacks that are similar to eggrolls.

They make thousands of them per month, and their boss sells them in the local markets. The entire room was covered in flour, their hair was flour-coated and their skin was white with flour dust. It is fast, hard work for a few dollars a day.

I thought of you on this trip, and I could picture you sitting with the women in their home, using sign language to try and communicate when your English just won't do. I could see you shaking men's hands and hugging the women and the babies they were carrying.

You may not be here but, as I told Ibu Emi, you are here with me as you look at the photos that I take.

I love you,

Kim

Thanks for reading.

Sea World Field Trip

I love field trips. Last week I had an opportunity to go on one to Sea World with some children who live in some nearby slums, as well as their teachers and two young women who are new to Indonesia and SPH (Jen and Becky). Part of the money that was raised a few weeks ago at the Karawaci Ladies' Trivia Night for Education went towards renting a bus, buying lunches and snacks and paying for the entry fee into the area where Sea World is located. When approached, Sea World very quickly and generously agreed to waive the entry fees for the children as well as the chaperones for the entire day. Not only did they pay for our entry, but they gave the children fun stickers and goodies to take home with them as well.

When we were inside Sea World, the children were able to see things they have never seen in their lives. They touched small sharks, sea turtles, sea creatures (no idea what they were!) as well as watched stingrays, sharks, turtles and large fish eat during feeding time. I had fun watching the creatures, but mostly I enjoyed the kids' faces. Priceless.

After Sea World, we headed to the beach. These kids live near a river and so most of them know how to swim. However, although they live on the island of Java, they'd never seen the ocean before, and therefore had never swam in it. Originally the teachers rules were that the kids could walk in the water only. After about 30 minutes, however, the kids pleaded their case and said how much they wanted to swim in the ocean (many times over), and of course, the teachers agreed. There was no way you could say no to their pleading.

These kids were amazing. They swam in jeans and t-shirts, shorts and shirts, some with clothes that were way too big when dry and that grew even bigger when wet, and not once did they complain that they were uncomfortable, too sandy, and even though they were shivering, too cold. Afterwards they changed with no comment, with no towels and with little privacy, and they were so excited to have had a chance to play in the ocean. I could learn a thing or two about being content from these kids.

What a wonderful way to spend my day! I can go weeks, even months here in Indo, enjoying daily life, living and learning what I can, but it's when I get to be a part someone else's life, to experience things that I have done before but with a new perspective, that I really experience an excitement about being here. I know that no matter where I live on this earth, I have opportunity to learn through someone else's eyes, and I am thankful for these kids and for the blessing of spending a day with them here in Indo.

Thanks for reading.

A Trip Worth Millions

Some things are really easy to write about because they're funny or there's lots of information to fill a page, and other things I find difficult to put into words. I have had experiences here where each time I'm in the middle of one I try to imagine the way I'd describe it to others. Sometimes words just don't do justice to an experience. Unfortunately, sometimes photos don't either, especially when you've been asked not to take any because of sensitive circumstances surrounding an event. One of the most fulfilling things I have had the opportunity to participate in here is to go to a slum area with Abby and to sit in on classes with the children. It's this particular area that I am unable to describe with photos, and so I will try my best using words. For the record, we have taken a few photos on our small digital camera, but we've said that we will not post anything on FB or on our blog, so we'll just keep them for ourselves.

Abby and I are trying to set a schedule where we head out once a week around 4:30 and join 3 national teachers who have huge hearts for their country. These three women have decided that they can make a difference in their country by educating a small group of children who would normally never have a chance at an education. Starting in the morning, these kids beg alongside the road, taking turns knocking on car windows, in traffic, and hoping to help their families make some money. They come home before dark, eat a meal, wash up and on the nights class is held, come to class around 5 pm. The room that they hold class in is about 7 ft x 10 feet, and I believe it is in the front of someone's home. This shanty home is built within a long line of others, situated between an old cemetary (complete with tombs and tombstones) and a filthy dirty river. There's a big hole in the back of the house and it's from this river that the wind blows through the classroom, bringing with it a cool breeze and some mosquitoes, too.

Tonight as we drove up to the river, through the grave sites, we could hear the children cheering before we parked. They knew that we were coming because our angkot (public transport station wagon-bus) honked all the way in. It felt like a scene from some black and white missionary movie from Africa. We hopped out of the angkot, walked through the tall grass, down a hill that, thankfully, wasn't nearly as slippery as our last visit during the rain. Just as we reached the river's edge, we turned into the crowd of children, each of whom greeted us with a beautiful 'salam.' This greeting is one of those Indonesian traditions that gets my heart every time: a child will take the hand of an adult and greet them by placing their forehead or cheek on the adult's hand. It's neat that most of them do it with Abby as well, and they did it to her friend Zoe who accompanied us tonight.

Once we were able to move the crowd of children to just outside the 'school room,' past the skinny puppies and surprisingly fat, healthy-looking goats, and beyond the privacy of a woman bathing behind some rickety boards, we held hands in a circle and sang songs. Twinkle, twinkle is a favourite, even with the 10 year old boys. Skinnamarinky has the same effect on kids all over the world it seems, and the song about copying the person in the middle of the circle makes kids smile in any language. After singing, we all headed inside for some class time. Usually there are about 15 kids, divided into 3 classes, and 1 teacher plus a helper (Abby and I) for each class. Tonight I got to teach the older kids about families. It was great because I got to practice my indonesian and they got some english in as well. The greatest difficulty, when it's not raining, is trying to keep the attention of your class when there's a class of little ones to your right and a class of 7-9 year olds leaning into your "class" space from behind. When it is raining, you are also fighting the sound of the wind, thunder and rain, and sometimes, like our last visit, you are struggling to find a source of light when the power goes out. If you ever think of sending a care package, please send dollar store LED keychain lights. I realize just how handy those things are when you are in an electricity 'pinch.'

After class, the kids are responsible for stacking their tiny little benches at the side of the class, stowing their plastic school folders for another class day, and tidying up. They once again take our hands and tap their foreheads to them, say good bye, and follow us like a flock of goats back up the small hill, through the tombstones and grass, to our patiently awaiting angkot driver. It's usually during this part of the trip that I get emotional. By this time there are boats on the river, long, skinny boats with usually two men in them. One man fishes standing up and the other steers the boat. Others are squatting next to the river, hoping to catch dinner as well. Quite often the clouds are out and the sun is setting pink behind them. More often than not the birds are starting to sing their evening song, competing with the Muslim call to prayer in the not-so-distant distance.

It's in this place of death, surrounded by mud and tombstones, rickety shanty homes and garbage, that beauty still cries out. It's in the silhouette of the fishermen on the river and in the pink sun setting on the grass growing out of the tombstones; it's in the yawning, skinny puppies and the shy yet laughing, shabbily dressed children. It's in the way the kids run around their teachers, salaming and asking questions and saying "be careful" in Indonesian. It's in the way my daughter smiles as she climbs into the angkot, and in the dirt on her shoes that refuses to come off for days.

I'm not sure I can truly describe what I see and feel on these trips. All I know is that although it sometimes takes a kick in the pants to get us out the door for these trips, when I get home I'm usually hot, sweaty, dirty and smiling.

Thanks for reading.

Spring Break (but where's Spring???)

The holidays are here and you'd think I'd have spent some time blogging on my computer. We chose not to go anywhere during this Spring (?) Break, in order to save for our upcoming trip to Canada. It has been a quiet time for us, full of sports, shopping, food and some fellowship. Most people went away for at least four days to places like Thailand (Phuket, Phi Phi Islands), Singapore, Hong Kong, Bali and other Indonesian locations. Before most families left, we had a game of softball, and it was a great way to start off the holidays.

Our family headed once again to Anyur Beach, about 1 1/2 hours from our front door. This time I didn't take my camera, but I did take some prints of photos I'd taken the previous visit. I was able to distribute these and in doing so, realized that some of the best photos I could have taken were the smiles on the faces of the Indonesians receiving a photo of themselves. I've been instructed to bring my camera next time so that we can take a group photo of myself and all of the ladies working on the beach (massages, mat rentals, banana & food sales).

There is a place in Jakarta called Mangga Dua, and in it there are some excellent, truly

Indonesian spots to shop. Rebecca and I shopped there when she was here, and I've been a few times with friends. This holiday is a bit unique in that most of Indonesia is not on holidays, our school is, and my

family hasn't gone anywhere. I realized that this may be the one and only time my family may see Mangga Dua without the crowds, and that's the only way I'll ever get Tris to agree to go along. To me, it's a great "Indonesian Experience." We headed out with Haris, and our friend Jamie came along. Our very favourite purchases were our wigs: Matt bought the white one for a skit he and his friends are wanting to do for YouTube. We were also able to find really inexpensive jeans for Abby and some other odds and ends.

This Wednesday Abby and I had the privilege of heading for the second time to some slums. These ones are probably the worst I've been at here,

with the children and their families using the filthy river water for their bathing and washing. We're not sure about cooking, but it's not a healthy situation, regardless. It was one of our first times riding in an Angkot, a typical Indonesianmode of transportation that most foreigners don't get a chance to experience. One of the reasons we stay away from them is that we really don't know where they're headed!

This is a photo of the teachers who have allowed us to come along with them, and of the regular Angkot driver that they hire each week to deliver and pick them up. What is most exciting to me about this trip, and the last, is that Abby has had opportunity to teach English to some of her peers. I helped with the little ones next door, but stuck my head around the corner now and then to see her in action. She's a great teacher! Other than watching Abby, one of my other favourite things about visiting this area is the greeting, or 'salam,' that the children give us each time we arrive and depart. Regardless of their age, the children take your hand and place either their lips or the side of their face on the top of your hand, and bow a little when they do so. It's a very humbling greeting.

Surprisingly, we haven't spent much time swimming, but we have taken advantage of the empty tennis courts, and Abby's been practicing her basketball shots as much as she can. She received some wise sports advice from her coach, who told the girls on her team to bounce the ball around the yard, the neighbourhood and even in the house as much as possible. Unfortunately, although she's a very obedient kid and does as the coach suggested, I disagree, but my opinion doesn't go very far in that area because, well, I'm married to the coach.

In one way this has been an odd holiday for me, because my kids are getting older and doing much more of their own thing. Although they're growing and Tris and I seem to be shrinking, when Tris and I went to an few outlet stores to buy some clothes, the kids didn't want to come. Imagine that, not wanting to buy stuff! They preferred to stay home by themselves. *Sigh*. On that note, remember Mr Plaid? We've made a deal. Tris was allowed to buy a whole bunch of good quality shirts (really inexpensive, too!) IF he got rid of his plaid shirts that he's been wearing for years. I think it was an easy decision for him, especially since he wore his plaid shirts constantly during the time he struggled with his shoulder pain (they were easier to get on). Now he's Mr Golf Shirt.

So, all in all, not a terribly exciting holiday but definitely a relaxing one, and one where we got to explore the Jakarta area a bit.

Thanks for reading.

Another Orphanage

I went to an orphanage today. There's not a lot to say about this one, except that it made me really, really sad. As a community outreach the local charity group I belong to raised money at a bbq for this particular orphanage and then made up some little baggies of toiletries. Mostly they were bags of toothpaste, toothbrush, comb, wash cloth, soap, shampoo, etc, but each also had a bag of gummy worms and of crackers in it, too. These children were quite young--I'd say that the oldest one was maybe 10 years old--and so the toiletries were passed over for the treats. After the bags were all opened the caregivers collected all of the toiletries and set them aside, so any intention of each child having their own baggy was sacked. However, I think that going in as foreigners, we tend to look at distribution a little differently. The workers were putting aside the goods until they were needed, and I think we were hoping that each child could hang onto their own and use it as needed. I guess in the big picture this doesn't make sense, because eventually all those toiletries will get lost and mixed up anyways.

There were children from one month old to probably 10, mostly boys. There was one girl in particular, Nadia, who came to me as I sat on the floor and just leaned into me and eventually over my lap. Who can say no to a snuggle with someone who takes the initiative? I didn't do much as my camera is broken and there wasn't much to do except chat with the kids, so I sat there and watched. What caught my attention was how the young children were helping the younger children. I saw a three year old holding a juice box for a one year old, and a five year old opening the gummy worms for a three year old. The children were a little dirty and some had open, oozing sores, but overall they looked reasonably healthy.

What made me sad is the rumours that are told about this place, how the man who started it isn't necessarily accountable for what comes in, and it's thought that donations have been sold (ie/ toys, etc) for whatever reason. From the outside looking in, this doesn't look good. Who knows what's true and what's not. Maybe they are selling toy donations so that the kids can eat and for diapers and formula for the babies. Maybe they're making money off the donations and using the profits for themselves. Who knows. All I know is that there is an orphanage that is raising about 40 kids, most of whom are under the teen years, and that this is just a small representation of probably hundreds of other orphanages just like it here in Indonesia.

Out of curiosity, when we first moved here I spent a few hours googling adoption in Indonesia. What I remember is that you can foster a child for 2 years while living in Indonesia, during which you have a home check done and someone checks the child periodically. After the two years an authority (can't remember which, gov't or the orphanage head or both) says whether or not you can adopt that child. If it's yes, then the paper work starts. If it's no, then you have to give up the child at some point. This seems like a pretty heart-wrenching way of setting up an adoption.

Thanks for reading.

Sports Day, Health Day, Retreat, Birthday Day

Happy 6th Birthday to our niece Lucy who lives in Canada, and Happy 8th Birthday to our nephew Tristian who lives in Germany! We love and miss you both!!!

We've had a great week and the 'great' extends back into last week. Last Friday was the Senior School Athletics Day and Matt participated in running long distances and in long jump. I love the photo where he's running because he has such a good looking stride. In the 400 m he ran a good race, sprinted to the finish with gusto, yet the guy beside him was just that much closer to the finish line and he missed 3rd place by a hair. Like I said, he looked good doing it. He loves to support his house team (named Merapi after an Indonesian volcano and represented by green) and so had and overall 'green-ness' about him.

Saturday saw Abby and I volunteering at another Rotary sponsored Health Day in the village just beyond the walls of our school. It's a village that I can hear but I can't see, so it was great to get a new perspective on it as we drove through and later, took photos from the rooftop of the school. Little did Abby know that when she volunteered to come along with me she was going to be the 'dental demo' for our friend & hygienist, Dalenea. She was a good sport, especially since by 10 am she'd had her teeth brushed 7 times. I have to admit, I did nothing except move a few things and wipe up a few spills. I had my camera and had a prime opportunity to take photos of the village and the school children within the school. Needless to say, I took a few hundred. I invited a friend, Amy Sanders, along for the experience and she's just bought herself a new camera as well, so we had quite a time running around the school, from top to bottom. Of course, we respected the Saturday classes going on, and the villagers/staff in the school, but we were able to take photos we'd not feel comfortable enough to take if we were to just enter the village on our own.

Janet Weeda is a lecturer at the University Pelita Harapan (UPH) and her nursing students were asked to join Rotary Club for a day of information and demonstration of health and dental care for grade ones in the village school. Abby, myself and Amy (pink) invited ourselves along, and Dalenea (brown) was asked to do the dental care station. The kids were so attentive and loved it! I think my favourite photos were the ones of the kids close up, either laughing or watching intently.

These kids are practising brushing their teeth in the sink. Mostly they had a cup of water and a bin to spit in.

Biggest news this week? It's a toss up! Matthew and Abby are at their Spiritual Retreat for 2 nights, 3 days, and Matthew will celebrate his 14th birthday with his friends during this time. When they return they'll both get quite a treat...Aunt Sam arrives the same afternoon that they do! If we time it right, all three should be walking through our front door this Friday within an hour of each other. I've got an Angel Food Cake (purchased by mom, delivered by Dale) waiting to be baked especially for the occassion and we'll have a nice birthday dinner Friday night.

We've had a blessed week. Hope you are enjoying yours!


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Finally figured out how to Download Phone Photos!

After owning our Nokia camera phones for almost two months, we've just figured out how to download our photos to the computer. This is a photo of Tris' dislocated shoulder. Check out how square it is!

This next one is a good comparison of his "in" shoulder and his "out" shoulder. The ONLY reason he is smiling here is that he's pretty high on the painkillers. Photo taken at about the 9th hour of the 11 hours the shoulder was dislocated.

Third photo is of Abby's hair when she got it straightened after a cream bath. Sigh...so grown up looking.

Seconds after we bought my phone the kids got a hold of it and starting taking photos.

It's fun having this phone because I can take photos of randomly weird things that I see around town, like this funny hand-written price sign at a local bakery...although I was all alone I just HAD to take the photo!!

This little sweetheart is my friend Esther's little girl, and she wouldn't smile but would gladly give me a weird face.

When Candace and I headed to the slums I decided that since I kept bringing my big camera this time I'd go without one, just so they didn't think they were always on show. However, we did get a small shot of us...not very glamorous for sure, but since it was the only one, I'll post it for Candace's sake.

These are the kinds of signs you see in the public bathrooms here. You can use your imagination.

Here's Candace at the Marriott holding my dessert plate...check out the size of it! I actually went back for more after that was done, but you would too if you had tasted the ice cream.

Finally, here's Candace at her 2nd cream bath. This is the cream bath where I couldn't get her to chat, and she just responded with the odd blink. I think she liked it.

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Candace left early, early Sunday morning and our quiet life has continued just as when she was here. Of course, we're not getting massages and cream baths because that's more of a treat, but with Tris home we don't do a whole lot outside of the house. I just got a FB message that she made it home okay, all the way back to the good ol' Comox Valley. I can't help but envy her a little.

After we dropped Candace off at the airport early Sunday morning, Matthew and I drove...well, Haris drove, we rode in the car...into Jakarta for morning church (first time in a year!) and then some outlet store shopping for some clothes for Matthew. The kid keeps on growing!

Today I had the privilege of joining a few of my charity group ladies on a trip to a leprosy village in Tangerang. The people who live in this village have been diagnosed and treated, and they live here with their families. Many of them have children, and to those of us who know very little or nothing about leprosy, it is a good report to know that the disease does not get passed on to the next generation. The village itself was built by the dutch and is a mix of Christian and Muslim villagers. Our pastor friend told us that it's the 2nd generation of lepers (is there a better term for them??? What is politically correct?) or actually, families of the leprosy patients who are now living there.

A few of the people we met today were pastor Don, the guy carrying the 50 lb bag of rice (beras) donated by the charity group. It will be distributed by the local pastor (didn't catch how to say his name properly, but his son in the middle of the photo is Abrahim) to those who need it most. I don't know about his wife, but the pastor himself was a victim of leprosy and came to the village because of it. Eventually he realized what position/role he could play within the village and became a pastor. I'd love to hear his whole story.

The photo of the two people in a store are a married couple, no children, who run a small village version of a 7-11. As for the puppy, who wouldn't take a photo of a cute puppy when a camera is handy? I'm pretty sure he was posing.


Finally, this is the group of us that were on the trip together, along with 2 of the villager ladies. Neither lady has family and so they live together in the same home.We are Esther, Kylie, Trish, Amanda and myself. The two teeny tiny ladies are Indonesian.
I met a friend and got to practice a little Indonesian on him. If I remember correctly, his name is Iin.


On our way home, near the airport and the village we visited, is the largest mosque in the Tangerang district (our district). I have never seen it before.



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