Hawai'i

The horrible goodbyes are behind us.  And they were horrible.  I'm not quite ready to blog about our last week in Tarakan just yet...I need some more time to pass so I can type without crying. 

But what I AM ready to blog about is beautiful Hawai'i!  We arrived last Thursday after traveling through Balikpapan, Singapore, and Tokyo.  The flights went fine - it's amazing how much easier it is to travel now that the kids are older - no pacifiers, diapers, etc. - everyone carrying their own bag, and a few able to help tote the big bags. 

Zoe really enjoyed the water fountains and automatic soap dispensers at the airports we traveled through.  It doesn't take much to give our kids a thrill.

Our reason for traveling to Hawai'i was to visit our supporting church, Berean Bible, on the Big Island.  You can read more about them here.  They arranged for us to stay in a fantastic beach house situated right on rugged lava-rock cliffs.  All day the waves crashed into the cliffs, sending up salt spray and creating the most sopophoric sounds to sleep to.  There it is.  My favorite SAT word.  Have to use it when I can.

From the heights of the world's largest mountain to the roiling depths of an active volcano, we took in several of the amazing sights the Big Island has to offer.  We drove to see the beautiful Akaka Falls, which reminded me very much of some waterfalls we've seen in East Kalimantan.

One night we drove to Volcanoes National Park to see the lava glow.  We wrapped up like bedoins (57 degrees feels cold to our thin jungle blood!) and sat for as long as the kids could endure (about five minutes) and viewed the red-hot caldera.

Another night we headed up the slopes of Mauna Kea, Hawai'i's iconic mountain that is renowned as the world's best place for viewing the stars.  We went up to the visitor's center at 9,000 feet and waited for the sun to set so we could hopefully do some stargazing.

The view was incredible, and once the sun set and the clouds cleared we had a crystal-clear view of the stars.  The moon was quite bright, so we couldn't see the Milky Way, but a telescope view of the moon made up for that, and the kids were excited to see Saturn's rings through a telescope.

We didn't shiver the whole time we were on the Big Island...we did manage to get in the water some.  The place where we stayed had a minature pool, and we got to swim in a lagoon with friends from the church.

On Sunday we shared a presentation about our work with MAF at the Berean church.  Since we last visited there in 2004 they had constructed a lovely church building that is perfect for the tropics.  They opened up side doors and let the breeze blow through. After the service we were treated to a pot luck lunch, and some Hawaiin music.  One of the ladies even taught me a simple hula dance - so much fun!

The two ladies in the picture below sang for about an hour.  It was the quentessential Hawaiin experience for me - sitting, enjoying the breeze, chatting with long-time Hawaii residents, listening to this beautiful music.  We really enjoyed our time there.

This morning we flew back to Honolulu and went to Pearl Harbor to visit the U.S.S. Arizona memorial.



We then headed to downtown Waikiki to eat at a restaurant we saw a blurb about on one of our flights that the tv food guy Anthony Bourdain visited, the Puka Dog.

Buns are toasted on these sharp burners, then filled with different relishes, like mango and pineapple.

David is taking suitcases down to the hotel lobby, so this is it for now.  We're hoping to drive up to the North Shore, see the surfers, and eat some shave ice before heading to the airport to catch our overnight flight to the mainland.

Aloha!

What a crazy couple of days it’s been.

Yesterday was Pack the Container Day.  We are shipping our stuff to Papua via a 20-foot container, so Monday night David and I were up past one, boxing up and wrapping our worldly goods.  I was hanging out laundry at midnight, having just remembered my aprons hanging on the back of a cabinet.  You’d be surprised at how much noise there is at midnight here – roosters crowing, toads croaking, the night watchman banging out the hour on a pole. 

Tuesday morning a crew arrived to help take our stuff to the dock where the container is.  In just a couple hours all the stuff was gone.

The truck is loaded.  Note the sweet grafitti.

It is a relief to have a bare house, after the craziness of packing up.  And yet it is sad, too.  Our voices bouncing off the walls, and the early morning light coming in earlier than usual because of the lack of curtains attest that our house is EMPTY. 

My sentimental side has kicked in, and allowed a floodgate of memories to hit me when I am already feeling emotionally vulnerable.  I stood in our playroom/schoolroom yesterday, and thought of all the playing and learning my kids did in that room.  In the kids’ bedroom, by the door, are the fading marks of where we’ve marked their growth over the years, the first mark for Grace – now a gangly 11-year-old – barely two feet off the floor.

Our kids learned to talk, walk, ride a bike, read…so many things in this house.  Leaving here is the end of an era for our family – the end of the Holstens With Small Kids Era.  And while there are some awesome perks to having older kids, I am sad to leave the small kid era.

And Orpa is pregnant, and I am bummed that I may never get to hold her baby, my “grandchild” if you will.  Many Indonesians wish to have children right away after tying the knot – sort of making their family or the marriage complete, I guess – and Orpa and Herry were no different.  She and I have had our first good cry – she flung herself on me the other day and I held her as she sobbed, “Oh Ibu, I never got much love from my own parents…it wasn’t until I lived with you that I truly felt loved.”  So yeah, this goodbye is going to be pretty tough.  She made soto ayam (Indonesian chicken soup) for us one last time yesterday, which was sooooo good.  So good that we had it again for breakfast this morning.

Comfort food

Monday was kind of an insane day – David flew one last time in the Krayan region, and there was room for Zoe and I to go along.  The plan was to drop a load of passengers in Long Bawan, then another load in Long Layu, then head over to Paupan where one of our adopted families lives.  We were hoping to be back in Tarakan by 2 so we could get back to packing. 

Alas, it never seems to go according to plan when you really need it to.  The load of passengers was a group of immigration officials who wanted to hang out in Long Bawan for a little while before heading over to Long Layu.  So we had to wait while they did their visits – but we were invited along so we had a meal, which I was happy about.  Any chance to eat the wonderful short-grain rice of that region, along with a side of wild ferns, I take it.

With the immigration officials

On one leg of our trip Zoe got to sit up front with David and “fly” the plane.  She is our fearless one and was more than excited to go “weightless”.

When we finally got to Paupan, we had to rush it a bit.  Zoe and I went on a little walk, and I hope this doesn’t sound weird, but I was able to say goodbye to the beautiful wild jungle of Borneo.  Our “father” in Paupan, Pak Ajang, hosted a little goodbye meeting for us, which was followed by a meal.  He and his family rode with us back to Tarakan, where they will wait for the birth of their second child.  Their older son, Bryan, is 14 and will be living in Tarakan to go to high school.  For years they've wanted a second child, and it's finally happened.

Pak Ajang (standing) formally bids us farewell

Goodbye Borneo! (photo by Zoe)

A Dilemma

What to do with the dog?

Sandy

Sandy, our beloved mutt with the face of a fruit bat, will not be able to accompany us to our new home in Papua.  We acquired her after the unfortunate demise of our first dog, Sydney, who was accidentally given away to be eaten for Christmas dinner.  No joke!


For eight years she has guarded our home well - sometimes, a little too well.  She's a barking fool, as my neighbors can attest, and as she gets older and grumpier the barking has gotten worse. 

Carter and Grace with little Sandy, 2003

Unfortunately, because of her incessant barking, she scares the hooey out of most Indonesians.  I feel badly about that, and we try to put her up when we know people are coming over.  


So no one really wants her, and I would be hesitant to give her away, actually, knowing how she can be with strangers.  I don't want her biting anyone.  There is also the very real possibility that if I give her to someone, they would eat her.  And one of our dogs getting eaten is enough.  If there were a humane society or animal shelter here, I would probably take her there, but alas, no such option exists.


So, sadly, we will probably have her put down.  Our friend, Tim, has offered to do this after we leave.  As he  said, "Hey, that's what friends are for - we kill each other's pets."  


Another sad goodbye.  Poor Sandy.  She's been a good dog, even if she has driven me half-nuts with her barking.  

The Goodbyes Begin

The painful process of pulling up our deeply-embedded roots from East Kalimantan has begun.  Our first few years in Tarakan, I would have had a hard time imagining myself depressed at the thought of moving away.  There were times when I could have left and not looked back.  But the longer we stayed the more betah or at home we have felt.


 For months I've been saying to myself, a la Scarlett O'Hara, "I won't think about packing and saying goodbye right now - I'll think about that tomorrow."  Tomorrow has arrived and our goodbyes are beginning. I have always been a sentimental sap - in part thanks to my dad who would often say things to me like, "This is your last Thursday as a third-grader" or "That's the last turkey sandwich you'll eat as a 13-year-old." Silly stuff, but it did ingrain in me the need to "mark the moment" be that moment the end of third grade, or a move across the country.  So my next few posts will "mark the moment" and hopefully help me process the goodbyes in a healthy way so I'm not a mess at the airport when we leave.


Monday I flew with David for the last day of his operational flying in the Apo Kayan region of East Kalimantan.  He wanted to "pamit" or officially take leave of his friends in the villages there, per local custom.  There is also a cultural tradition to "minta maaf" or ask forgiveness from your friends for any possible sins committed against them.  So in each of the villages David gave a little speech about how much he is going to miss the people there, how thankful he is for their friendship, and to forgive him for any possible misunderstandings.

Getting ready to take off in the Kodiak

 David with Taman Bang ("father of Bang") in the village of Mahak Baru.  Taman Bang and his sister, long-time airstrip agents, are good friends of the MAF pilots.  They usually have lunch waiting for the pilot, and Monday was no different.  We feasted on fried chicken, rice, sauteed pakis (ferns), and - what Mahak Baru is famous for - fresh pineapple.  The pineapples from Mahak are the best!!!  

 Taman Bang hacks into a freshly picked nanas (pineapple).

Me with Taman Bang and his daughter.  Taman Bang's sister gave me the necklace.

David receives an ornately-decorted machete from the village elders.

As we flew to other villages, we were likewise showered with kind words and gifts - baskets, hats, sugar cane.  I got choked up watching David fight tears as he said goodbye to friends he's known for almost ten years. 

Flying home that afternoon, my eyes hungrily took in the miles and miles of lush, pristine jungle and I thought of the people who live in the little villages below. Their lives are directly impacted by MAF - like the woman who was one of our passengers that morning.  She told me how she was returning to her village after going to Tarakan for treatment for a miscarriage.  She and her husband have hoped for a baby for five years, and were very disappointed over their recent loss.  "But," she said, "I am so thankful the MAF plane came to get me when it did."

Laden with gifts from interior

 The goodbyes continued today with the departure of Dorkas, a young woman who has lived with our family for the past three years.  She is our house helper Orpa's younger sister, and she worked for us part-time while attending a local high school.  She just graduated, and today she departed for her home island of Sulawesi where she hopes to go to nursing school.  She was a great help to us, and has such a sweet spirit about her.  We will miss her, especially Zoe who would spend hours playing with her in the back yard.

 So I'm hoping that by crying a little bit over the next few weeks, I'll save myself from the really big ugly cry that's been building.

What Can't you carry on a motorcycle?

We're always seeing goofy things around town, in particular people on motorcycles and the various items they can carry on them: goats, families of six, gas bottles, etc. We never seem to have a camera handy when we need one.  But here are a few we shots we got recently:

Need your tv delivered?  No problem!

Rear-facing child seat.

Crackers anyone?

Driving is never a dull experience here!

Easter

Easter morning found us scrambling, as usual, to get ready for church.

"Flowers!" I remembered.  "We need flowers!"

Our Indonesian church has an Easter tradition that I absolutely love called "flowering the cross".  Everyone is asked to bring flowers that are then attached to a large styrofoam cross.

I loved sitting in church, surrounded by people clutching flowers freshly cut from their gardens - orchids, bougainvillea, and that's where my knowledge of local flower names ends.  Living here where it's perpetually summer, I often forget what season it is in the U.S.  All the flowers reminded me that it is spring.

Attaching our flowers

The "flowered" cross - a beautiful symbol of hope for Easter morning!

 Zoe and Grace with "Oma" - a sweet grandma from our church.

Grace's birthday was a few days before Easter, and she had a party with some of her MAF friends.  We made some Easter crafts...

...and Grace ate a stack of 11 pancakes - one for each of her years of life!

The Wedding

The wedding is over, and what an experience!

A few days before the wedding, we were invited to take part in a premarital counseling session for Orpa and Herry at their church.  They had already met twice privately with the pastor, Pak Niko, but this third session was open for the church elders, family, and anyone else the couple wanted to invite.  Different people, including us, stood up to give advice or words of wisdom to Orpa and Herry.  It was encouraging to see their church family stand behind them as they "launch their ship out onto the sea of matrimony," as Pop would say.

The morning of the wedding I walked in the kitchen and there was Orpa, scooping rice into the rice cooker, and a chicken was defrosting in a bowl on the counter, just like it was any other day.

"What are you doing?!" I exclaimed in disbelief.

"Oh, Ibu, my parents are going to come here to get ready and I have to cook for them," she hurriedly replied. I helped wash up some dishes, then Orpa showed me how to cut up a pineapple as we discussed some weighty matters (yes, after almost ten years in Indonesia, I still didn't know how to cut up a pineapple - I am that pathetic).  We discussed the wedding, what their marriage might be like with Herry spending most of his time working at a rock quarry many miles from Tarakan, and then we got down to the facts of life.  We had lots of laughs as we worked our way through that conversation.

Orpa's phone rang; her brother was on the phone.  "Where are y'all?" she asked, then burst out laughing.  She looked at me and explained, "My brother said they're late, because he's having to teach my parents how to wear shoes.  They've only ever worn flip-flops in their village!"

Orpa's parents had never been on a boat, never really ventured far from their small village in the mountains of Sulawesi.  Her mom speaks only their native dialect.  So for them to travel on a ship for three days to attend their daughter's wedding was a big deal.

Orpa chose her 25th birthday as her wedding day.  I told her - lucky for your husband, he only has to remember one day!  I made her a cake that morning, and we laughed about how it looked like it was a 25th anniversary cake.

After the parents finally showed up and got their meal, the makeup and hair lady from the salon arrived with the dresses.  Orpa's dress, the mom's dress, and my dress were all crumpled up in a plastic bag - but amazingly looked pretty good once we shook them out and hung them up.  Makeup Lady ordered Orpa to lie down on the floor while she applied makeup to her.  I'd never seen this technique before - but considering the amount of makeup she put on her, it was the best position to be in.

My friends Joy and Sarah arrived to start working on me.  I haven't been this gussied up since - well, since my own wedding fifteen years ago, I guess.  They did an awesome job, and it was really fun.  I kept popping out to take peeks at Orpa, and when I first saw her all done and in her dress, I lost it.  I kept thinking of her as this 18-year-old girl, who came to us looking for a job, and how she has lovingly worked for us through the years - cooking for us, rocking fussy babies, helping me navigate cultural dilemmas, hanging out countless loads of laundry - all done with her gorgeous smile.

photo by Dave Forney

photo by Dave Forney

Orpa and her mom

photo by Dave Forney

Orpa and her American mom.  She often calls me "Mami".

photo by Dave Forney

Striking the quintessential Indonesian pose

photo by Dave Forney

After our little photo shoot with MAF teammate Dave Forney, Orpa hid herself in our guest room and waited for the groom and his entourage to come and fetch her, per Indonesian custom.  Herry and his family arrived, knocked on the door, then tentatively came in and inquired after the bride.  A few photos were snapped, a prayer was said, and we were off to the church.

The arrival of the groom's family

Unfortunately I don't have any photos of the actual wedding ceremony in the church.  But here is something different - we all - Herry, flanked by her parents, me, and his parents, walked her down the aisle, and all the entourage, walked in behind us.  It was a fairly typical wedding service - music and exchanging vows - but it was different in that the pastor gave a long sermon, the power went out a few times, and after the church service a man from the Indonesian government held his own civil service and gave them their marriage certificate on the spot.

From the church we went straight to the reception, which was held at Herry's parents' home.  A huge tent had been set up, with a stage for the bridal party, and a buffet line.

The looooong line into the reception.  The ladies in the picture are some of our neighbors.

photo by Dave Forney

The buffet line

photo by Dave Forney

Orpa and Herry changed clothes for the reception, as is typically done here.  They then sat on the stage, along with the parents, to receive guests.  Orpa wanted her dad and me to represent her side of the family.  Sitting next to me was a little girl whose job was to fan Herry (another little girl was on Orpa's side) but after a while she succumbed to the heat and fell asleep and was moved, then David joined us on the stage.  I felt like I shook a thousand hands, at least, and smiled so much my cheeks were sore the next day.

Orpa and Herry, on their throne

photo by Tripp Flythe

They very solemnly fed each other wedding cake...

...then they also fed the parents!

photo by Dave Forney

Two of Orpa's sisters and some of her friends performed a traditional Torajanese dance.

photo by Dave Forney

photo by Dave Forney

Orpa with Dorkas on the left, Abi on the right.  Dorkas lives with us and is about to graduate from high school.  She plans to go to nursing school in Sulawesi.

Orpa with her family.  There are nine siblings all together - only five in the picture.

I'm sure we looked a little out of place (ok, maybe a lot!) but it was such an honor to be a part of the wedding.

photo by Dave Forney