On Swimming and Ceremonies- Sat 11/29/08

Dear Everyone,

I hope you all had wonderful Thanksgiving dinners. I certainly did. I spent it with a group of teachers and former teachers who used to work at a school for rich westerners kids but are now creatively unemployed. We have become friends and they invited me to their house for a big feast at the end of what turned out to be a really emotional and awesome day.

The day began at the restaurant working with Eti, one of my favorite cooks. In between chopping and prepping for the day we began talking about the beach and swimming. Eti told me that she didn't know how to swim.

"How come?" I asked.
"No time." she replied.
It seemed like a simple question, but so many simple things here hide unexpected reservoirs of truth. Since she is the third woman I have spoken to that doesn't know how to swim, and since we live on an island, I felt compelled to press on.
"You never have time to go to the beach? What about your days off?"
"Always have ceremony."
"Never ever ever?? Even as a kid?" Apparently the concept of never going to the beach was having a hard time sinking in.
"Always busy with ceremony."

So I asked all the guy cooks if they knew how to swim. Every single one of them did. It turns out that even though guys have huge ceremonial responsibilities, women have more. It seems that many women almost never do anything that doesn't involve a ceremony or their family, while men have fewer social constraints. I got even bolder, asking questions that I knew I would regret later but feeling somehow compelled to do so.

"Eti, how much of your salary goes to paying for ceremonies?"
"All."

Her one word answer was like a gong going off in my mind. In my disbelief I went to Ketut, my friend and go-to guy who quickly corroborated her story. He said that very few people have enough money to pay for everything they need and that any extra they do have is quickly eaten up by ceremonial responsibilities. Because of these responsibilities, Ketut and his wife (a teacher who earns $30 per month) can't afford a second child and live in a storage room. The banjar, or community center, seems to be much like the Church but instead of tithing 10% of earnings, the banjar just takes it all.

One of the managers pointed out that some banjars are more understanding, taking less and giving more. Other banjars are in richer areas and pass the savings on to their members. Still, many are corrupt and poorly led, making things even more difficult.

I had thought the complete opposite. I had thought that while poor, nearly everyone had enough to get by. Did I expect that there was only la la happiness and simple coconut laden joy in the third world? No, of course not. But I didn't realize exactly how much difficulty the people I work with have to bear to survive. It turns out that almost every Balinese person I know is in debt, and gets deeper in debt every month. Their religion -the soul and center of their lives, the thing that unites them and makes them a part of something greater- is bleeding them dry and shackling them all in bamboo handcuffs.

When we finished preparations and the restaurant was slow, Eti and the other cooks helped me cook Balinese dishes for the thanksgiving party I was going to. We made awesome food and I learned more about cooking that day than on any other day since I arrived. It was exhilarating and satisfying and a complete turn-around from the sinking realizations that occupied the first half of the day.

Later, as I took a third helping of dinner, and toasted all the fine food and friends, it occurred to me that I might be getting too good at compartmentalizing my life.

Hugs,
Alex