Kamis, 13 November 2008

Ramadan

Preface: In writing this blog and being graced with peoples opinions about its content, it has recently come to my attention that I might be considered a little crass or crude in my writings (I think it’s a little harder to be offend in Australia as being coarse is a cultural norm), and that what is said here could cause offence. I want to make it clear that nothing posted here is ever written with malicious intent, nor is it a diss on the Indonesian culture which I love so much. It is simply observation be told as it is experienced and my views on the world, which I am entirely entitled to have. I worry that there will be some misinterpretation of what is being said here (perhaps it is just my expression, I did fail an Indonesian grammar test recently), as if I am saying that Australian, or western culture for that matter is somehow superior to that of Indonesia. This is not at all the case, and truth be known, if I was writing this about my experiences with Australian culture it would be positively scathing as I am much more often confronted with aspects of Australian culture which I don’t like, than that of Indonesian culture (which are rare). This all said, one thing I don’t support and will not adhere to is refraining from discussing issues because they “might” be considered “sensitive” in the name of being “politically correct”, because it is simply bullshit (particularly on the internet, the supposedly “free” form of media, but censorship is everywhere, can't believe they're about restrict Australian internet, what a joke), this practice (in my opinion) poisons society. Offence is not my game, but people need to be real, respectful debate in this big ass world is healthy, and more opinions (of all sorts) can only benefit understanding, even if we don’t always agree with them. Taboo topics breed problems. So, if you don’t like my opinion, leave a comment. Otherwise, Enjoy.

Ramadan came at an interesting time this year. Obviously not for 90% or so of the population of Indonesia who are Islamic as this is by no means new to them and practiced from a young age, but because I had recently arrived and was not yet used to the normal life (yet obviously vastly different to my “normal” life at home) here let alone the change which would occur in this holiest of months. In fact, no more than two weeks after my arrival it all began and the change was stark.
The streetscape changed, as if the clock, more so the whole concept of time had been altered; when to sleep, when to wake and when to meet your friends to “nongkrong” (hang out) had been moved in accordance with the whole new lifestyle which was adopted. This change is a result of “puasa” or fasting and it is one of the requisites of Islam along with praying 5 times a day, going on the Hajj to Mecca and zakat (helping the poor, this is in itself plays out interesting in Indonesia. People during puasa give money as a way of putting back into society, but sometimes it goes very wrong, particularly when a rich person who thinks it will bring them closer to god announces that on a certain day at a certain time and place they will be handing out a whole bunch of cash and people swarm from all around in an effort to get the money. In fact this year, several people died when they were trampled to death while trying to receive some of this free cash).
The puasa works as follows: People wake at 3am (3am you say, how on earth can people rise naturally at 3am? admittedly some do, but also every mosque all over town does a morning prayer, kind of like a religious wake up alarm, the sound of a lone man crooning through whatever speakers can be set up at the mosque, rest assured they will be loud, interestingly, during one of my shopping trips I did find an alarm clock that had replaced the buzzer or the radio for the morning prayer, even the alarm clock was in the shape of a mosque) to eat, drink and smoke as much as possible and then at a prescribed time which changes slightly every day, you must stop, food half chewed, water not swallowed, ciggie not finished, it doesn’t matter, your time is over. After that everyone goes to pray, and then depending on how your feeling you usually go back to sleep. Then the fast begins, and for that whole day, you won’t see a person around eating drinking or smoking (unless they drive the local busses, and for some reason they often still smoke), and the result is that the atmosphere of the normally vibrant city through the day takes on a much slower pace, people are conserving energy (as you would if you weren’t going to be able to have a glass of water or bite to eat all day). Also, all the activities you usually do in the day are limited. You can’t go out and eat, or sit chatting garbage, drinking ice tea and smoking kreteks. As for physical activity, forget it. It makes life a sombre experience for which many tend to sleep much of the day, to kill the time when life is without its usual activities and boredom ensues (the pious would disagree with me and they are free to do so), it is a time for getting close to god, enacting self-control and proving your commitment.
Even for those who don’t partake in the fast there are effects, many of the usual haunts are closed, drinking alcohol (already not favourable) is out of bounds (One of the largest Islamic organisations in Indonesia wrote on its website that “sweepings”, the act of hassling and sometimes beating people not “respecting” the aforementioned period, would occur in tourist areas), and furthermore, its very impolite to eat and drink in front of those who are unable to share the same privilege. This is a point I completely understand yet cannot still completely agree with considering that the fast is a personal choice (if you want to stop smoking, does everyone around you have to stop smoking in your presence?). Despite all this, warungs are still open but covered up with curtains, so all the sinners can still eat and not be seen. I always wondered whether maybe people eating and drinking during the fast went to different places so as to avoid being seen by people they might know (In the west I guess it could be compared with if you ran into your neighbour at a brothel and you both felt a filthy guilt, knowing that you were doing the wrong thing and wishing to have simply not seen each other).
The fast goes on all day and people appear tired, drained from the heat and lack of water, On the busses people sit quietly with their eyes closed.
Then, as the sun begins to set, the streets suddenly open up. Stalls selling food and drink appear from nowhere and yet are still empty in waiting, waiting for buka puasa, the breaking of the fast which will occur at sunset. And then you hear it, the mosque once again can be heard and suddenly the streets go fucking ballistic. Every citizen in Indonesia is suddenly freed. Every man and woman who hasn’t had a sip of water or a smoke all day are once again able, and they rush en masse to meet together to eat, talk and laugh as their bodies are re-strengthened. The roadsides become seas of people, sitting lesehan style eating bakso (meatball soup) or sup buah (fruit soup) or any other number of delicious things and the food never seems to have tasted as good as when your with all your friends and starving.
The traffic is the most obvious indication of “buka puasa”. It’s an amazing thing to watch, bikes zipping past side-by-side not a foot apart, horns blaring, eyes forward, non-patterned masses of traffic waiting for the lights to turn green. I say “amazing” but this is only the case provided your not sharing the road with all these tired and hungry people who are in a hurry to get home (the week I bought my motorbike coincided with this tradition and I had my schooling in Indonesian driving during this time, surely a good introduction, because if you can drive at the break of the fast, you will be able to drive at anytime, probably anywhere in the world).
Seeing all if this, its hard not to feel the beauty of it, the energy which could manifest itself in struggling to find a place to sit on a crowded pathway or accidently bumping someone on your bike and having them understand and smile; it contains a sense of community which is hard to find.
The other interesting thing is that because the day is so quiet, the night is then full of activity and because you’ll be waking up at 3am anyway, some people (most of the people in my kos) don’t really bother going to sleep. Music can be played at all hours of the night, because night has become the new day.
I was largely a spectator in this whole process, but I was intrigued by the idea of a fast, how hard would it be? (someone reading this is going to pat themselves on the back for doing the 40-hour Famine, and from the charitable perspective you most certainly should, but in relation to the fast, although 40 hours is longer than a day, you only do it once, imagine every day for a month, it’s a different kettle of fish). With this in mind, I valiantly began the fast. Admittedly, my fast only involved food and cigarettes because the idea of a Bule (white man) not drinking water under this often-vicious sun is ludicrous. I would wake with all my friends and 3am, feeling sick from having to stir from sleep in the middle of the night, walk up the road with everyone, get bungkus (a meal wrapped in brown paper, takeaway) and come back to the kos. Everyone would sit together on whatever they could find and quickly bolt down all their food, this process often leaving me feeling rather ill (as someone who prefers not to eat until they’ve been awake for at least an hour or so, not 5 minutes). I’d have a few ciggies and then would be invited to go pray to which I would politely decline before getting back into bed, often struggling to go back to sleep. Then at 6am I would have to fight myself awake again (largely due to some arrogance about how I’m a morning person, which I usually am but have struggled with since being here) to make it to my 7am lecture (which I was completely responsible for choosing). I’ll have to be honest here, it was pretty fucked. I was constantly tired, and although the reward was sweet at the end of the day, anyone who has ever seen me go without food for long periods of time will know I tend to get cranky (and with a pace and style of life which is different, extra patience is always necessary). In addition, not being able to have a cigarette is pretty hard work. Needless to say, I didn’t make the whole month, and “Lindsay’s Puasa” weak and incomplete as it already was only lasted a week. I ended up having to ask myself what I was doing, why was I punishing myself. Did I feel closer to the God? What God!

4 komentar:

mitayani mengatakan...

Lindsay's puasa? oh, u mean puasa acicis? haha. yay! all heil puasa acicis!
love ur writing as always. honest nd energetic. like the person,hehe.
screw belajar. we got sme talents here.
keep updating. man! ramadan is so ystrday!

mitayani mengatakan...

oh, p.s. i took that pic (the one u sleep). itu penting tauuk. udah ada copyrightnya.

Anonim mengatakan...

oioioi

Elisa mengatakan...

hello, my name is elisa and you don't know me. I stumbled across your blog when looking at Dyah's and thought I'd just say how good it is. I'm coming over to Jogja to study with ACICIS too - so really enjoyed reading about your time there - wanky comment over -