a little close to home

So for my birthday Hendrik said he had organised something special for me. Special indeed. It didn't happen on my birthday, but it happened the weekend following my birthday.

It all started when we were getting ready to go to this special 'surprise' when suddenly there was a knock on the door. It was our relatives from Bandung. And by relatives, I mean, plural, lots of them. We only have a tiny house in Jakarta, and, well, I'm not sure we could have fit many more visitors. 

Unfortunately we wanted to stay and chat, but we said that we had this prior birthday arrangement. Where we were going was closer to Plaza Indonesia and we had prearranged for my sister in law x 2 to look after Luke there. No worries, said the rellies, and we all jumped in a convey of four cars and made our way to Plaza Indonesia, where we were met with even more relatives.

I was starting to feel nervous. I don't leave Luke much. So to leave him in a shopping centre with thousands of happy relatives (who will DEFINITELY take good care of him) in a foreign country (even the one I'm familiar with), I began to feel nervous. I became increasingly nervous as a fire alarm went off and nobody cared. Welcome to Indonesia.

So after going through my nappy bag and explaining each item and it's purpose in my increasingly broken Bahasa Indonesia to my sister in law, Hendrik's friend picked us up and we made our way to what I was foretold would be a slum. After going down a one way street the wrong way in reverse with the police watching (and subsequently not caring) we arrived. Suddenly, the worries I had for Luke's well-being seemed non-existant.

We parked the car and went past little shops and children watched me in the street. It wasn't the worst slum I have seen, but it was definitely far from the middle-class community we live in in West Jakarta. We walked over the railway line, where I glamourously had to get Hendrik to practically carry me down a makeshift bridge, and finally we arrived to a tiny tin shed. We walked in and there were about 50 children inside a room that would be a quarter of a typical small classroom in Australia.

"Hello," Hendrik announced, "belajar apa?" (What are you studying)

The children all replied in harmony, "Bahasa Inggris!" (English)

(This seems like a bit of a set up) We made our way down to the front where we were 'expected' to take over the lesson.

This classroom had no chairs, and was cooled by a small fan. Some were lucky to have a small makeshift table. I was getting pins and needles within a few minutes - I don't know how they handle doing it all day long.

We started by Hendrik telling his story about how he grew up in Indonesia and now lives in Australia. Hendrik spoke in English, and I translated into Indonesian. I also wrote a few things on the board like my school teacher self. 

After that, I told my story in English and Hendrik translated. I told them about why I love Indonesia, how I came there in high school, had been to Kendari ("hey, do YOU know where Kendari is?"), and how I have a little boy called Luke and lived in a village (Pinnaroo) once.

Then it was their turn. One boy wanted to be a music teacher. Another was at University. There was such a huge range of learning styles and ages (really puts the whole term 'multi age' into perspective). They weren't bothered by the fact that they didn't have technology to support their learning, or that they were in the top group or the bottom. Their desire was to learn, and their hunger for it inspired me.

Often when we talked we would have to stop as a train would zoom past. The buildings in this slum were so dangerously close to the train tracks.

Suddenly, one of Hendrik's friends came in with one of the most gorgeous birthday cakes I have ever had in my life. I gave the first piece to Hendrik, then had to cut the tiniest slices ever as children lined up for a slice. (Suddenly the whole community was there).

And that concluded the class. I can't help but think this was all very pre-arranged as it was a Sunday. The Children all disappeared and I hung out with my fellow 'colleagues' for a while.

Outside in the muggy Jakarta air, Hendrik turned to me and said, "Let's do something that we can't do in Australia."

My Husband is a wild one, and I love him for it. So I agreed and thus came this picture:

We could hear a train in the distance.

"Ah it's going the other way," we said as we looked behind to see if we could see the train. As we looked back at the camera we saw the train charge around the corner - charging at us at full speed.

Had we been two seconds more on the train track, we probably would have not been here. Thus came this picture:

We made our way back to the car and I snapped a few more pictures:

A contrast of two places: notice how the 'rich' area is so close to the slum, and how close it is to the railway track.

This picture breaks my heart every time I see it. Homeless people sleep between the tracks -  it's unlikely they will be told to move on because the Government can't build anything where the tracks are anyway.

This is a picture of a river behind the houses. Each year in the rainy season it floods, sending rubbish and disease into the slum. I really hate to see what has happened here since the very bad flood in Jakarta this year.

I got back to Luke at Plaza Indonesia and he was asleep and fine in the care of my two sisters in law. The family had gone back to Bandung and all seemed quiet. It was so strange going back to one of the richest malls in Indonesia after being in a place where they probably don't even know that Plaza Indonesia exists. There is such a big gap between the rich and the poor in Indonesia and it makes me angry, but the resilience of the poor people does nothing but amaze me.

Thank you to Hendrik, Yoesen and all of my new friends in Jakarta who made this trip so memorable and birthday so special for other people, not just me.