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

Wedding Bells

Wedding bells are in the air in Tarakan.  This beautiful invitation was delivered yesterday.

Here's what was inside:

Isn't that the most unique wedding invitation??!!  Beautiful, and practical - in the equatorial heat, you always need a good fan, especially at an event like a wedding reception. The wedding is for Meily,  the daughter of our beloved office manager, Pak Simeon, who passed away in June 2009.  I don't know if you can make it out on the invitation, but David is listed as one of Meily's "pihak" or supporters.  We were humbled and honored by Simeon's family listing David on the invitation.

This is the first time David's been listed on a wedding invitation (other than his own, of course), and the crazy thing is the day before Meily's wedding, our beloved Orpa is getting married, and he's also listed on hers!

Ah, my Orpa is getting married, and I don't know if I'm ready for this.  Orpa has lived with us for the past eight and a half years, and has been such an important part of my life.  It's been such a joy to watch her develop spiritually, to grow as a young woman of great faith.  She has such a joyful and giving spirit, and I have learned much from her over the years.  

Orpa wearing traditional Torajanese dress

A few weeks ago she and I headed off on the motorbike to look at wedding dresses.  She directed me to a little nondescript, out-of-the-way house that apparently is Wedding Central for the neighborhood.  A few guys wearing shorts and smoking cigarettes sat with us, looking more like they should be discussing their next expedition on the Jolly Roger than wedding dresses, colors, and flowers.  But these were the Wedding Guys and they knew their stuff.  

The first dress Orpa tried on had layers of white, fluffly satin.  Orpa's future mother-in-law clucked her approval, but Orpa shot me a look that said, "This isn't the one - help!"

The next dress was bone-colored and not at all to the liking of the mother-in-law, but Orpa was glowing.  

"You are gorgeous!"  I told her.  And she was.  Never the mind the cracked concrete floor she was standing on, the layer of cigarette haze hovering around her head, the rooster crowing his lungs out at the window - in that dress Orpa rose above time and place and was what little girls everywhere dream of becoming - a beautiful bride.

In about an hour, Orpa had decided on colors for the bridal party platform, outfits for the mothers (I am one of them!) and outfits for the greeters, her dress for the ceremony and her dress for the reception (typically, brides change dresses at least once), flowers, etc.  She hadn't pored over any websites of Martha Stewart wedding magazines.  They haggled for a while then decided on a price, and it was done.  I couldn't believe it.

Hopefully my next post will have wedding pictures!

Introducing Baby Vera

Just after Christmas, one of the MAF national workers and his wife welcomed their daughter into the world.  Before she was born, Pak Isto told us he would like David to help with the naming of the baby.  We felt very honored and started brainstorming name ideas.

There are quite a few kids running around the interior of Borneo who have been named after David, kids whose moms were in labor when he picked them up in the plane.  There's even a brother and sister in one of the villages named David and Natalie.  One family chose "Holsten" for their child (yes, as a first name).  But this was the first time we were asked to choose the name ourselves.

I immediately thought of my late grandmother.  Her name was Vera, though everyone knew her as "Beebie" and we called her Mamaw.  She often joked that any of the grandkids who would name a child after her would get all the inheritance.  She was a sly lady, knowing that "Vera" probably wouldn't come back into fashion for a while, at least not until most of the populace forgot the "kiss my grits" Vera from the tv show Alice.

But "Vera" with an Indonesian pronunciation is just lovely - "Ferrah" - rolling the "r".  And while I'm not sure the exact meaning of Vera, to me it means a beautiful, godly, funny, hard-working woman of faith.

Baby Vera needed a middle name, so David suggested my name, since the baby was born just after Christmas (hari Natal).  So Vera Natalie was thus christened.

Ibu Leni, Pak Isto, and me, holding baby Vera

Since before last Thanksgiving I have struggled on and off with stomach issues, the details of which I will spare you.  It got to the point that I went to Singapore three weeks ago to be checked by a specialist there.  It was hard to leave David and the kids behind, and I have to give a shout out to my wonderful MAF team in Tarakan who helped out with watching kids and having them over for meals.  While in Singapore, I stayed with some Singaporean friends who took very good care of me.  All my tests came back normal, and the doctor suspects I had some kind of bad infection that was slow to respond to the various meds I took.  I seem to be on the mend - thank you, Lord!

And now...some news.  After over nine years living in Tarakan and bucking the MAF trend of Move Again Friend, our family will be soon making a major move.  In July we'll be starting a five-month furlough in the U.S., then next January we'll move to the MAF base in Sentani, Papua, way over on the other side of Indonesia.  It was a hard decision to make, because we love where we are and what we do.  But we felt like the time was right for our family to move.  The kids will be able to attend an international school, David will fly and fix planes, and I - what will I do?  Aside from learning how to function without our faithful house helper Orpa (who's getting married next month), maybe I'll find time to start that book I've always wanted to write.

Natalie