Musings from an office armchair

So, it’s 8:17pm and I’m sitting on the faded, dirty, blue & yellow-checked couch in my field office in Tameng. The fan is humming away in my direction; it’s pretty humid in here. I can hear big drops of rain smattering on the roof, and the kids a few houses up are jamming. There’s a couple of guitars and a vocalist, and it’s nice to have some background noise. I enjoy hearing them try to pull together their songs, and after a couple of nights here I’m recognising familiar tunes. I’m all alone in our little wooden office, apart from our security guard sitting out the front playing with his phone and humming along to the melody. I think they’re his kids jamming over there!

I recently packed up and moved my bed here, so I could give more room to the guys in the guesthouse – about ten of them squeezed into two rooms of bunk beds, while I had one room all to myself. But then we got a new female PMI volunteer who occupies the “girls’ room” and for a month we have a female English teacher staying with us, so that plan went out the window. But the benefits of being here include not being kept awake by night owls, or my engineer’s distinctive snoring, plus the water quality is terrible in base camp – here, about 5km up the road, it’s lovely and clear. It’s also easier for me to cook my own food here, without the crowded kitchen. I’ve got my little gas stove, microwave and a fridge, so I’m all set.

I’ve taken to bringing and cooking my own food, because there are so many freeloaders in our midst who don’t pay for the food provided by the staff – leaving the costs to me or them. Plus I don’t want to eat rice, fried fish, chilli and eggs 3 times a day! Most of the food cooked by our Pembantu (housekeeper), Risam, in typical Indonesian fashion, is heavy on the oil. By cooking my own food, I can choose what I eat as well as what’s in it. The staff find my food kinda strange, but every now and then one of them gets up the courage to try it! They just can’t fathom why I don’t eat rice with every meal J

The TV is at the guesthouse, as is all the company. But for now I’m content on my own, able to read my book or let the contents of my brain spill out onto the screen in relative peace and quiet.

The office itself is kinda crappy. It’s ok to work in during the day, with the windows open and sunlight streaming in. I like the fact that it’s wooden, and airy, and has a lot of open space. But the mossies get in too easily! Which is not such a good thing if you’re sleeping without a mosquito net. Unfortunately PLN (the local electricity supplier) hasn’t got their shit together (normal) and we use the noisy generator approximately 30% of the day. We go through a shitload of fuel.

It’s also pretty grubby. The bathroom out the back is all concrete, and while totally fine for having your mandi (the water that you haul out of the well with a broken old bucket is certainly much cleaner than at the base camp!), as soon as you step out of it into the back room, the feel of dirt on the bottom of your feet is rather disconcerting… as for when you use the latrine attached to the back of the house. Sponsored by ARC, of course. But this is the norm. None of our Australian luxury. It’s definitely a liveable place; it just needs a good scrub!

The rain has just become heavier, and sounds a lot more like the downpours I’m used to here in Simeulue. I wish I could hear it properly – last week I came down with a cold and subsequently an ear infection, and then I got a perforated ear drum when I flew from Medan to Simeulue, so I’m currently almost deaf in my right ear. It’s driving me crazy! Not much I can do about it til the drugs kick in and solve this little problem. It was kinda strange going to the Sinabang Rumah Sakit Umum – Simeulue general hospital – and having an x-ray of my head to determine if I had sinusitis! Still, I hope it rights itself before I fly out of here on the 10th December for my Christmas holidays.

I’m getting excited about these holidays... only two weeks to go! I fly to Glasgow via Doha and London for the wedding of two friends who met and worked here in Simeulue. One is an Australian-adopted Canadian, the other a pom. They are getting married in what sounds like a beautiful little corner of Argyll in Scotland, overlooking a beautiful Loch. I’m not looking forward to the cold though! So far I’ve managed to get hold of a couple of warm jackets, I have a beanie and scarf, but that’s it. I need to get my hands on some gloves, thick socks, a pair of boots and definitely some thermals! Those might have to wait though – I am yet to see thermals in Indonesia! It’s definitely going to be a shock.

I’ve managed to track down a whole bunch of people living in England that I hope to catch up with. Not difficult though – name one Australian who doesn’t know at least a handful of people living in London! I’ve already planned to catch up with Lisa and Dave, two friends from Uni, and housesit their place while they’re away over Xmas. A Cameroonian friend, Zul, lives in Bournemouth (south west of London) so I’ll cruise down there to see him. Another friend from uni, Rach, and I will then be heading to Edinburgh for their big New Year’s celebrations, which should be rad. So, along with a bunch of other crew living in and around London, plenty of good times to look forward to!

Now to just get this work thing sorted …

Memories of Liberia...

I’ve just got off the phone to my friend Roland in Harper, Maryland County, Liberia, with whom I worked in 2006, for ICRC. He has been asking me for new uniforms for Jacqui Football Club, the team of kids that I sponsor and who – bless em! – named their team after me. Just gotta get to a bank in Medan that has the right facilities to send the money. It was so great to speak to him. I found out that one of the other lovely security guards who I came to know and love was married recently, and another one is engaged to be married to a guy from Monrovia. I really do miss those guys. I need to get back there to see how Liberia and my friends are “comin’ on,” as they would say. Yeah-o, I miss Liberia-o!

I was reading The Age’s Good Weekend newspaper last night – a gift from a visiting National Office colleague – and it featured a photographic exhibition of public servants’ offices from around the world. On the second page was a photo of a Major Adolph Delaney, who works for the traffic police at the Liberian National Police HQ in Monrovia. In the photograph he is sitting at a simple desk with piles of paperwork, (apparently) working. On the wall are examples of traffic signs, there’s an old bicycle balancing in the corner, and a large, beautifully manicured blackboard with a drawing of a traffic accident in white chalk. Specially prepared for the photo, I’d say.

What is even more interesting is on the left side of the board, it reads: “Verse for today: in the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not anything made that was made. St John 1-1:3." Yep, typical religion worming its way into everything, even the office of the traffic police!

The caption of the photo reads “Traffic accident victims are sometimes willing to pay a little extra if Delaney’s department quickly draws up a favourable report to present to a judge.” Ha! Sounds like Liberia to me.

I always seem to be complaining in this blog.

Why is that?

Oh well, too bad.

I’m sick at the moment. And I’m not very good at it. I become a bit depressed when I’m sick, because I hate not being able to do what I normally do, and from feeling like people think I’m faking it when I take time off work (in this case from “overdoing the partying in Banda” – which I must say is not true. I had a fairly tame party on Sat night, which included shooting fireworks out the front and accidentally into the mosque across the road, plus fabulous dancing until the wee hours. Then there was a bit of a late one on Monday night with the boss and his barbeque before my early morning flight to Medan. But that’s it. I swear). After getting back to Simeulue I found myself with a crappy head cold, and a blocked right ear. It’s driving me mad! Hopefully it will sort itself out soon.

I went to Banda Aceh on Saturday. I went around to my old boss Paul’s house, to see him and his family. His little boy Adrian is so big now… he is Gigantor next to other Indonesian kids of the same age! It was cool to have a few beers and a chat. He’s moving to Medan soon for a new job, which is good for his family because his wife Popy is from there, and her family can help look after Adrian.

I usually enjoy going to Banda. But I didn’t enjoy being in that office this time because one of my colleagues, who is dating a local staff member, was basically ignoring me. Fair enough. I broke the news to her after the party early on Sunday morning that this ‘boyfriend’ of two years had been fooling around behind her back, including with me (I didn’t know!). This was going on while she was away at home in Scotland; she was under the impression that they were still together. So I had to tell her. It wasn’t fair otherwise.

Anyway, we had planned to go surfing the next morning, and in our hungover state we didn’t really think much about the fact that it wasn’t a good idea if the three of us went surfing together after the events of the previous evening! But out we went, and I really wasn’t in the mood for surfing – I don’t like being bad at things generally, particularly when I’m hungover and in a “three’s a crowd” situation. So after less than an hour pretending to enjoy being really crap at surfing, I made my way back to shore and amused myself on the beach until they were finished, then got them to take me home. Even more unfortunately, I happened to be staying at her house!

It would have been pretty funny being a fly on the wall. But I hated it! It wasn’t my fault, but she made me feel like it was.

When you’re staying with someone, it’s nice if they take care of you. Just a little bit. I don’t expect her to hold my hand; but after Sunday I hardly saw her, and she didn’t talk to me at all in the office. So I had to amuse myself by finding other friends to play with. Not difficult really – the other delegates live around the corner, so I hung out with them for dinners and we played a bit of tennis (even with a sore arm, I can still play if I don’t serve – but I feel like a bit of a wanker serving under-arm! This time, I didn’t get to thrash the boss, but a run-around was awesome, and much-needed!).

In addition, the office in Banda Aceh felt really unfriendly. I arrived with my engineer Rinaldi, and hardly anyone came up to say hello and introduce themselves to him. It was much different to usual; maybe because there’s been a few changes in the delegates, and a couple of the teams have moved to a different shipping container in the compound. But normally when us Simeuluenians go to the office, people are friendly, inclusive for lunches and keen to have a chat. The usual bright, cheery people were great. But there was none of that from anyone else. The admin and HR staff were particularly unfriendly, and even made Rinaldi organise his own briefing schedule – instead of organising it for him, they made him go around to everyone in each department and find out when they were free to give him the run-down of the different programs. How rude!

So I came back to Simeulue and became sick. Crap. And then on the weekend, I wanted to go out to Anna’s place to go kayaking. When I approached my housemate with the request to take the car, he got all narky with me and started carrying on about how I always take off with the car with little consideration for when he wants to go somewhere. We’re a bit short on cars at the moment, because of maintenance needs outside of Simeulue.

I can understand his point. I do often just go tearing off with the car to do things on the weekends. Being stuck in Salang all week really makes me ansty and I enjoy the freedom to be able to get out and about. But I usually check to see if he’s around, and he’s usually sleeping or off having coffee on Sat and Sunday mornings, so I just take the car and figure he’s big enough and ugly enough to call me if he needs to use the car. In the past, we’ve had enough cars for me to do this and it hasn’t been a problem.

But also, let me paint a picture of my housemate. At a guess, he’s in his late 50s, and spends his free time on weekends and after work doing the following things: reading, sleeping and smoking. All in the house. Or, he goes to the office. So he hardly goes anywhere. The only time he ever really needs the car is to go to the office (if he's too lazy to walk! it's only 15 mins up the road), or if he wants to go into town for a change of scenery on the restaurant front. So I thought it was a bit rich to hassle me for using the car as I do. But the main thing I was mad about was how he spoke to me, just launching into me without even really saying hello; and then when I asked Anna to come pick me up (I wasn’t able to take the car) he started mouthing off to her. That really pissed me off. I was almost in tears.

And then I WAS in tears when almost straight after our argument, I get an sms from my sister Ange: “I miss you! :( Can you please hurry up and come home so we can do fun stuff?! Love you xo”.

Anyway, the upshot of it all is that I’m just pissed off with being here at the moment. Counting down big time til December 10th. Bring on those holidays!

The environmental nightmare that is Simeulue...

I thought I'd give you some delightful imagery of my little slice of paradise.

Environment is not high on the priority list here. But making money at the expense of it certainly is.

The prime example is the seemingly humble palm plantation - "kebun sawit". Hectares of virgin Indonesian rainforest are being knocked down to plant these ghastly trees, all for the purpose of harvesting palm oil. The community cuts the wood for their own consumption first, but they are being encouraged by the government to sell and/or rent their land to the palm oil companies who make big bucks - and little goes back to the community. There is a lot of community land dedicated to palm oil production.

The Bupati - the head of governance in Simeulue - is up to his neck in dodgy dealings with the oil companies too, at the expense of the community. He's been in court and I think even in jail for it. The amount of land available on Simeulue is not even close to that needed for a palm processing facility.

It's depressing to drive around the plantations and see just how much was forest before. I remember the first time I arrived in Simeulue and went for a nice drive - only for my jaw to drop to the floor when I drove over the hill and saw the rows upon rows of palm trees stretching to the horizon. And the destruction continues around the island - even in Salang where I work, there are just more and more hectares being cleared. We don't see many monkeys any more :(

Then there's the rubbish dump. It's gross! There is no proper way to deal with the mountains of plastic bags, bottles, food scraps, wood and other rubbish that rapidly accumulates in this little town. There are a few entrepreuners around town who have set up their own businesses to collect cans, old bikes, 44 gallon drums and rusty old ships and export the metal back to Medan by ferry. There are scavengers that peruse the area for anything valuable that can be recycled, like plastic bottles, for which they get a small sum of money.

In terms of dealing with household waste, people just make a pile out the back of their house, dump their rubbish there, and burn it. In some ways it stops the rubbish making its way into the drains and the sea, but pollution-wise it's not good, especially as a high proportion of the waste is toxic plastic bags.

Recently, the UN set up a waste sorting and management facility (the big blue building in the picture) to try and deal with it. They are also planning a waste education program. the can really only operate effectively in Sinabang, the location of the main mass of people. In the kampungs its not feasible.

The positive thing about the waste management program though is that it's a practical one. The idea is that the Department of Sanitation, together with UN, go around with trucks and personnel and load up with the town's rubbish. Then they take it out to the waste management facility at the dump and sort it into non-recyclable and recyclable plastics, organic matter, paper, wood, metals etc. The organic waste gets composted and any recyclables sent to Medan by ferry to be recycled.

The harbour is a disgrace rubbish-wise. People dump their rubbish straight into the 'rivers' - read concrete lined canals to transport water to the sea - and it goes straight into the harbour. Plus there's the fishermen and boat passengers that throw all their rubbish overboard. There really is very little understanding about the importance of waste management. The UN has now started a waste collection and harbour clean-up program in Sinabang to try and deal with the growing mountain of plastic bags, bottles, fishing nets and other visible rubbish that blights the landscape; we regularly see teams of rubbish collectors around the place. But they're fighting an uphill battle; as soon as they clear the shoreline, more rubbish washes in. If you take a boat out into the harbour and beyond, on the way back you don't need to guess how close you are to home - just observe how much rubbish floats by!

Tameng tales and other woes

This is the bridge in Tameng, which fell down this week when one of our gravel-laden trucks went over it.




The drivers had to dump the load of gravel into the river and then try to lever it out. We then got into a tricky situation when we signed an agreement to pay half the cost to the local government to fix it. It still isn’t fixed 2 weeks after the contractors promised it. We can’t move any quarry or hardware materials to our villages until it’s sorted. It’s been very dodgy for a long time, so it had to happen. But still, more frustrations!

Ahhh my project seems to take two steps backwards as soon as it takes one forward. We recently got an audit done of the program, and our engineer uncovered about 50 houses in the first two villages ARC built in, where the septic tanks were made of concrete and brick, and never actually finished. They used a ‘traditional’ design where there is no floor in the tank – which means the shit goes directly into the soil without proper filtration! And while soakaways were supposed to be attached to these tanks for the effluent, the completion of these was left to the community, including filling them with self-procured gravel and sand. So of course, they neglected to do this, and in some cases used them for other purposes like garbage dumps.

So now we have to go back and fix this problem. And it ain’t cheap. We have decided to replace the old tanks with new fibreglass ones, and fill in the soakaways. My budget was already looking shabby, not to mention my timeline totally overshot by at least three months.

I might be here until the end of 2058, not 2008!

Other favourite pastime: kayaking

One of the very enjoyable things I am lucky enough to do in Simeulue is take a kayak out on the bay on the weekends. My previous boss Paul left his kayak behind for me to use. It’s an aluminium-framed, canvas and rubber, kit kayak. A few months ago, Anna (another expat here) bought herself one so that we could kayak together. Along with Chigusa (working for Japanese Red Cross), she lives out of town in a little village called Lugu, in a beautiful wooden house overlooking the water on its own little bay. It’s such a tranquil place. At night all you can hear are the frogs croaking, the crickets and geckos chirping, and the buffalo tramping across the grass. Oh and the asphalt factory rumbling away up the road (but forget I said that). It’s been the location of many bule gatherings, and for good reason.

From Lugu, Anna and I take our kayaks out and paddle around the little (and not-so-little) islands that dot the bay. The first challenge is carting the kayaks down the hill from the house, through the fence and across the grass, then along some dodgy wooden planks and bamboo bridges that aid you in your quest to reach the water. Once you reach the water’s edge, depending on the tide, you encounter rocky coral or thick, squelchy mud in which you sink halfway up to your shins. It’s an effort just to get the kayaks out into the water!

But once we’re out there, it’s great. We can cruise around to our hearts’ content. On days when the weather is good to us, it’s absolutely beautiful. The water is like glass, and our kayaks glide over it as we make our way around the mangrove-covered, rocky coastline. The mangroves are an amazing shade of green. We always see fish jumping out of the water. One morning we saw what seemed like hundreds of black devils leaping around in a seething mass, either in pursuit or being pursued by something under the water. The shoreline is regularly dotted with a multitude of little mud towers, the works of art of the millions of crabs that inhabit it. They are curious little creatures, with one, oversized, yellow, red or white claw that they wave around at you as they retreat back into their burrows.

We have kayaked around some of islands, out into the open sea, and also right across the bay that shelters the town of Sinabang. It’s a nice perspective of the town; you can see the shiny, silver towers of Sinabang’s waterside mosques glittering in the sunshine and watch the bustling activity at the port.

Unfortunately, our long breakfasts on the balcony mean we often don’t get out on the water early enough, and by then the wind has sprung up and the clear, sunny day is already partially clouded over. The wind is what kills us. Particularly when we emerge from the shelter of the mangrove forest and out into the open channel, the wind picks up and makes it very difficult to go anywhere. It’s a little scary at times when the water is choppy, the wind is blowing you all over the place and you’re struggling to stay upright. I wouldn’t want to tip over in one of these things. They are great for calm conditions, but if you were to fall over, you couldn’t just do an Eskimo roll and right yourself. The kayak would fill with water and you’d be hard pressed to get it to move anywhere. They are a dead weight when they get water inside them!

We’ve been caught in downpours a few times, which hasn’t been a fun experience; battling waves and wind as well as rain! Especially when you’re constantly worried about whether you’ll tip over and whether you’ll be able to find your way back again. All the little coves and bays start to look the same after a while, and in heavy rain, it’s hard to make out the landmarks that were so trusty just a few minutes before…

We have quite a few big plans for our kayaking trips; following the coastline down to the popular beachside location of Ganting, which is about a half hour journey by road, to meet up with other, equally keen friends who are happy to share a mie goreng and then help us get back with their vehicles. Anna is keen to try to paddle out to Pulau Siumat, but it’s an hour by boat on the open sea and I’m not so keen! I think it would take us a lot longer than we think…

I have taken my kayak a bit further afield in the past when solo, carting it to various locations by car. There is a really beautiful spot on the south-eastern end of the island called Labuhan Bajau, which is a maze of waterways, islands, shallow mangrove forests and rocky outcrops. It’s also a good place to snorkel and swim, so a few friends have accompanied me there. I’ve launched the kayak from various port locations dotted around Sinabang, always to the curiosity of the locals sitting around on docked boats, hacking down bushy coastal land for timber, or just hanging by the waterside. Taking the kayaks up the little rivers is also great – providing you stay away from the toilets dotted along the more ‘urban’ rivers, and the wallowing buffaloes! The trees close in around you and you often disturb egrets and other wading birds foraging for their lunch.

It’s a really enjoyable way to experience Simeulue, and being out on the water, away from everything, when you’ve managed to rustle up a bit of speed and are gliding along with nothing behind you but the wind, is definitely one of my favourite ways to spend my time.

Bring back tennis!

I REALLY wish I could play tennis at the moment. Since being based in the field all week, I hardly get a chance to play any more. I’ve gone from playing around 5-6 times a week to not playing at all. It’s been raining a lot too, so on the rare occasion I am able to play, the weather prevents it. D’oh! Plus I hurt my right arm – I can’t serve the ball because my muscle is too sore … it’s like tennis elbow in my upper arm! So I have to rest for a while. NOT my favourite thing to do! I miss the exercise, the laughs and the company of the guys that usually play. Hopefully I will get back into it soon.

I’ve been trying to find ways to exercise in the field. From our base camp I can walk to the beach in about 15 minutes. I have to wade across a river to get to the beach, and there’s only one place you can do it – and only at low tide. The mouth of the river is quite wide, and really deep, so you can only walk along the beach on one side of the river! But it’s a good way to get some exercise after sitting in the office all day.

Fuck sit-ups and all that other crap. Give me interesting exercise! Maybe I should wander down the road and see if anyone wants to play volleyball or table-tennis in the dark.