Oleh-Oleh!

Oleh Oleh is a tradition here. The practice of bringing back gifts for people when you go away on a trip. Most Indonesian airports here have dedicated Oleh Oleh shops for just such gifts. Nuts or cookies or key chains. Often there is a regional flair; something that the area is known for.

I travel a lot, so I've taken to picking up things for the office or my house staff. I'm not sure where the boundaries lie, but it seems to be appreciated. Nothing big and seldom anything permanent. I've not seen their homes, but I imagine them to be small and I don't want to contribute to their cluttering up. Tea, coffee, chocolate. Is that the perfect gift?  Something you savor with all your senses and then flush?

On a recent trip to Oz, I brought back kangaroo jerky.  Mrs. S.A.M. wondered if it were halal.  Could Muslims even eat it?  This was a true concern. Was I being an insensitive jerk(y) by offering it?

I gave it, but later I confessed that I didn’t know if it were halal and apologized if they couldn't eat it. It brought about an interesting discussion.

Turns out that my driver and housekeeper had talked about this very issue. My driver who is the most pious in our immediate environment opined to our housekeeper that because kangaroos mostly eat grass and seeds, they were like sheep, and so they could be eaten.  This might be how they got that Monty Python skit about how to if someone is a witch.

I thought this an interesting tidbit, so I asked if that were the dividing line? Whether something eats grass or seeds made it legal. Sheep eat grass. Cows eat grass.  They were okay. Pigs were dirty because they eat anything.

Mrs S.A.M. asked,  “What about goats?”

Housekeeper: “Yes. We can eat goats!”

Mrs. S.A.M: “But, goats eat anything.”

Pause… Awkward laugh. Change of subject. “We can eat fish and shrimp! But if something lives in two worlds, like a salamander then we cannot eat.  But sometimes a frog lives in the water and in a tree, but we need to eat it for medicine. Then, it is okay.”

Hmmm. Another exception.

I asked the next day how she liked the kangaroo jerky. She said it was good, but was a little too strong so she cooked it in fried rice. Her family loved it.

My driver and his family ate his all up without question. Once it was established that kangaroos are bouncing sheep, all was kosher, or whatever. He revealed that he once ate tiger.

“Please tell me about that, Pak?” I'm dying to hear about this rule.

It seems that his brother was in the army and was posted in Borneo back before the island was a giant palm plantation and tigers still roamed. This brother found himself face-to-face with a tiger and having no other choice, shot it. Having done that he cleaned and brought the meat back to share with his family.  Not sure where the exception is.  Whether it was dead already and so could be eaten or some other rule.

Tiger Killed, Chopped Up, Eaten

Then I found the above article and I think the rules about eating tigers predate the arrival of Islam to Indonesia.  I think this is ancient jungle tradition.

The Trouble with the Gays

It’s been just six weeks since the bombing and shooting in Central Jakarta, so it is understandable that the country is in an uproar about… the gays.  All the other letters are causing a stir too. The Ls. The Bs. The Ts.  All of them are lumped into the gays.  

I left the country for a few weeks and when I came back I found that this was the hot topic in Jakarta.  The issue with the gays.  They’re foreign influencers, they say.  It’s part of a proxy war.  It’s all a plot. Like invasion of the body snatchers. Perfectly health heterosexuals have been kidnapped and replaced with exact, but maybe better dressed replicas. They’re among us trying to sway us to their ways.

In addition, to outside influences, people have laid blame on poor parenting and curiously, Instant Ramen Noodles which are a staple in the diet here.  

Imams have gone on record as saying gay activity is forbidden.  Gays are evil monsters who prey on children. Politicians while agreeing with the Imams, are quick to discourage any violence toward them. Though they may be monsters, but they’re our monsters.  Human monsters.

There is a variety of proposed remedies.  Religious scholars say that the weak just need to pray more.  In response some districts have increased the length. of the school day in order to allow time for more religious instructions. Vitamins are being sold to students to make it easier for them to stay awake for more praying.  The vitamins it turns out are often speed or meth. This in a country where selling drugs is punishable by death. It is just crazy!

Speaking of crazy, Indonesian psychiatrists have progressed up to the 50’s and have declared homosexuality as a mental illness that can be treated. Some offer rehabilitation themselves or referral to mosques. Experience God’s love is the first step to a cure. You can read more about this here

Keep in mind there is a long history of acceptance of the trans-gendered.  To the point that there was an Islamic school that taught only trans-gendered students. It was forced to close last month amid the furor.  

There was a list published a while back allegedly from some higher up person or other that gave

How to spot a gay

information on how to identify gay males in your midst.  Among the clear identifiers, Men who are clean, take lots of selfies and wear…… V neck t-shirts. ?!?  I wish I were making this stuff up.  

There has been recent banning or discouragement from allowing effeminate TV presenters in any role. It is still unclear about how this is defined. For the moment, male presenters are maybe a little more slovenly and wear crew necked shirts.  

I wonder, does this mean the terrorists are winning?

(Any views above, expressed or implied, are solely my own observations and not those of any other entity.)

Istiqlal Mosque

We've been here for a year and a we hadn't been yet to the Isitqlal mosque.  This is a huge presence in the north of the city. It's the largest mosque in south east Asia.

With the Presidents' Day holiday, we had some time, so Mrs. S.A.M and I decided to check it out.

This mosque is right across the street from the Catholic cathedral which has stood since colonial times. The Indonesians waited a bit after independence to get started in their mosque.  They didn't break ground until the early sixties. The stopped for three years starting in 1965, when there was some “unpleasantness with communists” which is the term the government used way back then for people they didn't like, which were smart people, rich people and Chinese.

Anyway, they resumed work in 1968 and finished  in 1971. And when they finished they had not only the largest mosque in Southeast Asia, but the third largest mosque in the world after those at Mecca and Medina. It's kind of a big deal.

Inside it is immense. Perhaps half the size of half a football field with a dome some 7 or 8 stories supported by columns.  A large golden inscription on one wall.  Walkways surround 5 floors on all sides. It is a pretty impressive structure.

This is what it looks like when it's empty.

Our driver seemed quite proud to show off the place, though it's not really his home mosque. He led us in and found a man of some importance or at least a name tag.  That guy led us into a room labeled guests. We stowed our shoes in little cubbies and he brought out a book for us to sign. Mrs. Sam filled out the columns. She likes living dangerously and so wrote John Hancock-style US diplomat”  under occupation.

The manager then says, “we usually collect donations from our guests to help with the upkeep of the mosque and to help the needy. Any amount is fine It’s totally up to you. We take rupiah, US dollars, Chinese dollars, whatever. “

I wanted to be generous and I'd heard amounts bandied about, so I took out 100,000 and handed it to him proudly. He took the bill and said, “100,000 rupiah is like 7 US dollars is that what you wish to give?”

“Um.. Yes.”

“Ok then.”  He closed up his book and said quickly that guests aren't allowed on the main prayer hall and may only take photos from upstairs. Have a good day and he turned to walk away. Our driver, bless his soul chimed in rather uncharacteristically, “Don't they get a tour? “

The guy said something about how it was kind of late and there were no guides available and walked away.

And so we wandered. Up and around a couple of floors, taking in the views.  Now, it wasn't time for prayers, but if you believed my Facebook feed from back home, you might expect to see legions of jihadis massed in rabid fervor chanting derision about us diplomats and others, and waving knives of obsidian.

But instead we saw a few catching up on their prayers and many people napping close to a plug so they could charge their cell phones.  

We went back to get our shoes. The door was locked. Our driver came up with the manager, and they must of had words, because suddenly the guy was full of fun facts about the mosque.  He was pointing out some of the posters arrayed around the shoe cubby room giving some of the history.  

And with that we went shopping. It was quiet and solemn, but also kind of boring. Definitely something to see, but would recommend that you  plan around noon prayers on a Friday for the best experience.

What I imagine it's like on Friday.

To Market, To Market

Suddenly, just like that, we’re on the downward slope of our time here.  A handful or two of months.  A bushel of weeks. The clock is ticking insistently.

With the dwindling weekends and not quite enough time or money to get away out of town, I decided to explore some of of Jakarta’s markets recently.  

One rainy day headed to Tanah Abang, the city’s “Arab district.”  One of the older areas of town.  This

walk started in the goat market. That’s right. In this city of 15 million, 24/7, if you need to buy a live goat, this is the place to come. You can get a sheep or a cow, too, and probably a water buffalo if you wait around long enough. They’ll butcher it for you on the spot or you can take it home and do it yourself.  How?, you ask.  Like this.

A few meters down is a chicken market.  Here chickens are processed and distributed to all the myriad of food sellers in the area.  There are thousands of pounds of chicken parts and pieces.  I think I got there late for the actual deed of killing, but there were plenty of carcasses. .

Further on from there is a place where fruits and vegetables are cut and cleaned for the same food vendors.  Carrots peeled.  Mangoes cleaned. Coconuts husked.  Hundreds of well armed people hacking away and vegetable matter.  And all the scraps go on a ever growing compost pile in the middle.  Let me say that between the rain, the goats and chickens and the rotting vegetation, I picked the wrong day to wear sandals.  

It was off to the textile market.  On the way the road was blocked by a wedding.  Apparently you can do that here. Just block off a whole street.  I was forced to detour down what appeared to be a hallway.  A dark and dingy hallway about 3 feet wide.  But once inside was actually a major thoroughfare with countless cramped rooms and apartments.  I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was walking through people’s living and bedrooms.  Rickety ladders led away higher to other nooks and crannies.  It was fascinating.

Strolled briefly through the zinc market with tiny metal tea sets, chickpeas and a huge variety of dried dates for sale.  Then it is across the street to main market at Tanah Abang.  This place is a marvel. Some nine floors covering more than a city block, chocked full of stall upon stall of clothing and textile vendors.  This is where, Indonesian retailers come to shop for products and supplies.  

If you want a full size range of hello kitty shirts. This is your place.  If you want a case of 8” red zippers, this is the place.  Need a few yards of camoflage fabric.  There is one stall with nothing but.  It is mind boggling how there can be such a demand for such specific items, but within minutes of opening, they are moving products.  They have special porters to help people load their purchases into their cars.  It is a buzz.

The following day we head out to another area known for two things, gemstones and birds.  

The new gemstone market replaced the old gemstone market which was apparently just rows of old shacks and houses.  The new building was 4 stories tall and sectioned off into individual stalls selling all manner of precious and semi-precious stones and jewelry.  I’m sure there were some really nice gems. I’m sure there were bits of glass. You’d need a geology degree or a great deal of trust to spend a lot of money here. Prices seemed pretty impressive.  One shop was nothing but silver chain.The price of a nice length necklace was a few dollars.  In one of the lower corners was a room full of stone cutters and polishers.  All just sitting waiting for a job to do.  Some were polishing, some were reading the papers. All were smoking.  Seems people buy rough stones out on the main floor and then bring them here for finishing and then people mount them however they want.

After wandering for a couple floors, it was on to the bird market

This was down the road a ways and situated behind a giant pharmacy market which in itself might be worth an explore.  4 stories full of Depends and antibiotics and mystery creams and ointments.

The Bird market is possibly the largest in the world.  The Indonesians love having pet birds.  Walk

through a village and up and you see bird cages everywhere.  Even in the poorest neighborhoods, houses will have a couple ornate wooden cages with wonderful songbirds contained within.

This Bird Market is where many of them come from.  Brought in from throughout the archipeligo, they’re fed, bred and displayed for a rabid buying public.  Walking up you can hear them and the closer you are, the louder the cacophony becomes.  Walking around the periphery, it’s fascinating.  A rainbow of color and sound.  Some stalls sell just food. Some are making and selling the bamboo and wood cages.  

Dive into the interior and the sound is deafening.  Yet, hundreds of mostly men, are wheeling and dealing in poultry.  Bird cages are stacked 10 feet high. One man is in the corridor training his pigeon to return to his mate, apparently so he can race them.

One man walks up and puts a thumb sized sugar glider in our hands.  We see Loris. Adorable and big-eyed, but it’s teeth are tinged with poison that it gets from a patch on its elbow.

Once your eyes adjust it becomes quite clear that people are sleeping  in these stalls with their stock and then slowly you become aware of the feathers, and shit and then you feel something hit your head and your become attuned to how thick the air is with bird dust.  You have images of how maybe this is where an Avian flu epidemic may start…. And then it is time to go.  

Not sure I’d go back.  Except to get an owl.  I saw a bad-ass 5 inch tall owl that the shopkeeper had taught to dance.  I might brave the market again for that.