Contradictions

The one thing I’ve really come to understand about Indonesia is that it is a country of contradictions. Every island is chock full of great beauty, but there are absolutely no environmental protections in place, in terms of sewage systems, pollution controls, garbage pickup, land planning—the list is endless. Living in Jakarta I’ve seen what years of this can do to a city, and it saddens me to walk and drive around Lombok and feel like in 30 years the smog will obscure the view of the mountains.

In the same way, Indonesia’s people are full of contractions as well. I am here to attend a women’s leadership training sponsored by common ground but conducted by KPI, a local NGO. Besides the trainer, Nita, and I, the rest of the KPI women and all of the parliamentarians and government workers save one are in headscarves, long sleeves, and long pants. I can’t help but wonder why these women complain that men will not take them seriously, yet they let their religion tell them what they can and cannot wear or show in public because of the same men. While she is controversial, I do look at Megawati and think that she achieved possibly the highest level a woman could in this country, that of president, and she didn’t wear a headscarf (and she still complaints that men don’t take her seriously). I wanted to stand up, and although only half of them would understand half of what I was saying, say to them, if you really want to be empowered, wear what you want, not what a man in a mosque tells you to. Perhaps I’m looking at things incorrectly, but I don’t have the courage to ask them flat out (nor would I embarrass SFCG by doing so).

Anyways, I started my day at 4:30 AM. conveniently timed with the first call to prayer I wake up for everyday by accident. I had called BlueBird the night before, and at five on the dot, he rang the doorbell-I was actually surprised, considering the cabs always seem to get lost. I had my first experience with a domestic Indonesian flight on Lion Air, which I didn’t love as the plane seemed older than my parents, and loved even less after Nita told me she didn’t need to use an ID to pass security.

(I fell asleep—the rest of the post to be continued when I have a better internet connection…)