Indonesian Diary Entry
23 September 2001
This is week two of the terror. Life has not returned to normal, here or in the States. But life here seems to be so much more normal than what I hear about the States that comparisons are idle. So this journal entry will be about a normal week in Solo.
It probably seems to some as if Gourmet Magazine, the vegetarian supplement, sent me here, but I promise that is just an appearance. Food may be a little more important to me than to others but food is quite an interesting subject wherever one visits. My food needs are currently met in two major places: a kantin near the office and home. The university is divided into Faculties, as I have already noted. My faculty is Ekonomi, which really is more like a college of business. Each Faculty has it’s own complex. UNS has a number of Faculties, and the major ones include letters, law, medicine, engineering (or Teknik) and Ekonomi. [I am writing this with some trepidation. I am at home and the house person is working on a small electric pump near me and I don’t think he has turned off the juice. I asked him to, and he assured me that he had, but he repeatedly jumps back and barks “wah!” This is not a good sign. The fact that he is squatting in a wet place does not add to my comfort.] The physical plant is pretty good size, especially if one notes that there are no dormitories like in the States. I would guess that the campus is somewhere between 100 and 200 acres. Anyway, the point of this is that each Faculty seems to have its own kantin. I went one day to the FE kantin, but found it to be chaotic and a little too close to the parking shed for motorcycles. Since these vehicles and their owners come and go with great frequency, especially between noon and 1:30, the noise and smoke provide an unwelcome ambience. Hence, I have taken to eating at the kantin of Fakultas Teknik. [Another quick note. I think the pump is fixed, and all involved have survived the repair.]
Each kantin is independently operated. There is a small group of people who prepare and serve the food, and the offerings are pretty much the same every day. The first day I went to this kantin I was led like a disabled person or pet dog, the owner/operator/server was told to fix me something meatless, and since that day I am offered exactly the same thing whenever I appear. This includes rice (of course), a leafy green vegetable like spinach, sprouts, a cooked version of jackfruit, and a spicy peanut sauce. Most days I have an accompaniment of tempeh, which in this case is fried without any batter. (Tempeh and even more so tahu are often fried in a rather thick batter.) If it wasn’t so good I would probably protest the daily redundancy, but then again in the U.S. every day sees me with a PB&J sandwich and a piece of fruit. Occasionally I will also get a banana for a follow up. My drink is some type of squeezed citrus with water, ice, and about a quarter cup of sugar. Sweet to the third power is the way to think of it.
Home meals are exquisite. This was the biggest concern when I moved in with Pak and Ibu Indra. They were worried that they would not be able to meet my vegetarian needs. I tried to assure them that I could eat around most things, but that did not seem to alleviate any fears. Well, the fears were for naught. I should hastily add that this has nothing to do with me. The first meals were a little odd. Morning one included a salad in a Styrofoam container that had obviously been purchased somewhere. But after that no such special accommodations appeared, and the meals simply got better and better. Breakfast and dinner often include the same items, as is normally the case in Java. It hasn’t taken much getting used to, especially since there are a few additional items at each meal (little toast sandwiches have become a regular in the morning, and fried eggs are common as well). For a while this had me very concerned, as I felt that the family was being forced to follow me rather than the other way around. But the other day Pak Indra mentioned that he really liked the vegetarian diet and was thinking of giving up meat entirely! He felt better and lighter. Since I have been consuming about twice the amount I would at home I can’t say I feel any lighter, but I do still fit into the clothes I brought. One other culinary note: aside from meat related fat there is virtually no fat in the diet. Cheese and butter do not show up on the normal table, much less cream or sauces based on cream or butter. Rice is not a staple. What word exists for something that goes beyond a staple? M.I. mentioned the other day that if a Javanese person does not have rice they feel that they have not had a meal. Her example was that if someone had a couple of sandwiches or burgers and side dishes, and you asked them whether they had lunch they would say no. No rice = no lunch.
This was the first week for real teaching. Recall that I am scheduled to do one guest lecture per week (two and a half hours), and the subjects and classes change from week to week (with a little bit of repetition). This week it was monetary economics. The arrangement was that I would be accompanied by the regular lecturer and a translator. We would play it by ear, as it were, with respect to the translator. The arrangements were made well in advance, but I didn’t meet the lecturer and translator until shortly before the class was to begin. Of course my preparation was extensive even though the subject was elementary. I had done an outline for distribution and had some overheads. I was assured that there would be a projector as well as a white board. One thing did change in the week before the class, and that was that the class would be doubled in size as this would allow me to be exposed to twice as many students – roughly 80 rather than 40. No problem.
The regular lecturer and translator came over about 20 minutes or so before the class, and at 5 minutes to the appointed hour we walked over. At this point the translator told me that he taught the class that had been added on to the original class, and that he was a little weak in monetary economics. Then he mentioned that his class was a class in the economics of development. Ah, so I was to give a two and a half hour lecture on money, to a class that included half who had not had any preparation in money. No problem? Well, maybe.
The experience was fun and amusing. The attitude of the department seems to be that exposing students to an American professor is the thing of importance, and if the field doesn’t exactly match that’s OK. So, I go with the flow. There was an overhead projector, but it projected onto a piece of cloth hanging against the wall. There was enough room for the students to sit, but the room was rather longish rather than wide or square, and as a result at least half of the students could not have possible seen the overheads. I was sometimes clear, and then occasionally would realize that I had been talking as if they were all in Worcester, using idioms and the like. The thing I really like is that I show up like a visiting fireman, do my lecture, chat a little with the students, and then go back to the office. I don’t have to deal with attendance, homework, complaints about a lack of textual materials, and so on. Oh yes – and I don’t have to deal with exams and grades. I guess that explains my equanimity in the face of anonymity. In this class there were no obvious problems in communication, but given my style of lecturing (following an outline until something seems particularly interesting and worthy of immediate attention and then going off on that tangent) translation was pretty much out of the question. Most of the students laughed when I made a joke, or at least joined in when they noticed others laughing. At one point the chatting of students (a completely regular kind of behavior here) got a little loud for me so I actually managed to squelch it without being too authoritarian. There were a few questions in response to my continual requests for questions. The questions were generally somewhat related to what I had been talking about, with the exception of one that was essentially: why is America rich and Indonesia poor. No problem – the American professor deals with all questions with equal attention, so back to the Wealth of Nations, and so on and so forth. This coming week we go at it again.
A last note about resources. Like Indonesia, UNS is not balanced in its resources. The room I taught in was pretty much adequate, but the ventilation was not. At one point I felt light-headed from the heat, and fortunately I was provided with four containers (about 8 oz. each) of water. So, that facility is mixed but actually better than I expected. The real shortcoming is the library. Given that textbooks are not really used, aside from materials on reserve, the library is scary. I was told that bringing texts and leaving them would be a good thing. My reference point was the American University in Bulgaria. They had a fair amount of resources, but life ended for the collection circa 1988. This library has a few more recent items, but a small fraction of the number of volumes and no internet access. I will leave the texts I brought with me, but I really am sorry that I was unable to bring more. These texts will not even be drops in the bucket.
And yet another last note. When I wrote this it was morning. Sunday evening I received a call that there had been an anti-American incident in Solo. A radical group visited hotels and informed management that if the U.S. did anything in Afghanistan then they would conduct a “sweep” of all Americans (and other foreigners from sympathetic nations). This is nerve wracking because one year ago there was such a “sweep” in Solo and before coming here I gave serious thought to going to another city and university because of that incident. It is difficult to tell whether yesterday’s incident portends anything, but it was enough to merit a call from Jakarta. There are not many real options at this point. My Jakarta contact mentioned some unappealing ones (including moving to Jakarta for a while, which really sounds unpleasant), and we agreed that for the while I would remain here, but exercise caution. Pak and Ibu Indra are being great, and insist that I not take any taxis for the immediate future (much less busses). So, life goes on with a little different twist. Mother said there’d be days like this.