Ruteng is the city (part 2)

The comments from those people that listened to ‘Ruteng is the City’ (the song that I mentioned on my blog last week) made me realise that I hadn’t really explained about the youth culture here. Well the simple answer is that there isn’t one – there are no bars or cafes, bowling alleys or cinemas, the list of what there isn’t is infinite: there is no where to meet and there’s nothing to do. This, in my opinion, is something that could do with changing!

However, the more complex answer is that of course there is a youth culture, it is just enacted in a very different (and somewhat less visual) way. This was brought sharply into focus last week when I attended a hip-hop concert. Yes really, I went to a hip-hop concert in Ruteng. I didn’t know how to approach this on the blog, what is really important to understand is how unusual this is (not just me going listening to hip-hop… not really my cup of tea, but beggars can’t be choosers)… Go back and read the first paragraph again – there is NO ENTERTAINMENT IN RUTENG – so the advent of a concert, & a hip-hop concert at that, was a surreal event.

The concert was organised to promote HIV/Aids awareness (remember the group with the synthetic penises?) It included break-dancing, beat-box, the winner of Indonesian Idol, and the act everyone was waiting for, Lipooz & The Ruteng Clan singing ‘Ruteng is the City’. This was all pleasant enough for a while… everyone sat nicely wearing their hoodies & sporting a fair amount of bling. But then the inevitable happened – the two bule were identified as the ‘most beautiful women in da house’ & dragged up on stage to dance with Lipooz.

By 10pm other people were dancing, but the atmosphere was slowly turning sour, a couple of small fights started, a few people were chucked out for being drunk, the ‘hello mistering’ was getting intense – I decided to leave. Maybe the same would have happened in the UK, but I couldn't help thinking that people had just got over excited. Entertainment is such a rarity here that people couldn’t contain themselves; didn’t know how to behave. This leads to a viscous circle of further events or venues being refused permission. Having thought on this for a while, my conclusion is that Ruteng needs a pub (for the good of the community obviously, not just me!)… maybe I’ll start a petition!

Ruteng is the city

Thanks to my Dad’s suggestion, I thought I would provide you with a few more details of what I see & hear on a day-to-day basis. It’s a shame I can’t give you a sound-scape of Ruteng as the noise is one of the most perplexing aspects of living here, but instead you could download ‘Ruteng is the City’ (a song by a local artist that might make a nice bit of background listening!) from http://sarabi.multiply.com/music.

Although it may look like it from some of the pictures I have posted, Ruteng is not on the edge of a jungle – it is at the top of a mountain range, and to both the north and the south the sky-line is dominated by steep tree-lined hills. These are most visible in the morning, but as the clouds close in during the course of the day they become obscured although the peaks will occasionally poke through above the clouds. The volcanic soil is incredibly fertile & all the houses are surrounded by gardens growing corn, bananas and mangos.

The mountains to the south

The houses themselves are made of a variety of materials depending on the wealth of the owner: the most prosperous live in brick-built modern houses (like mine), those on an average income construct wooden houses, & the poorest live in the more traditional bamboo-weave houses. But regardless of wealth, all have a large sound system which blares out a range of traditional songs, reggae, and hip-hop. Generally houses are single story, but there are a few with two floors. Many houses have a small shop (kiosk) at the front. This is a common cottage industry here and they sell a range of products such as eggs, flour, and small sachets of shampoo.

A bamboo house in the foreground, a two storey wooden house in the background

The roads and pavements are in bad repair. Often there are large holes, or entire stretches of pavement missing & the incautious risk falling straight into the sewers! The most common form of transport is motorbike and all manner of things are carried on them – babies, crates of chickens, carpets- it is not unusual to see a whole family riding on one bike.

The only set of traffic lights in Ruteng

For public transport you can either take a motorbike taxi (ojec) or a bemo. Bemo’s are small vans with two benches in the back, and for a minimal cost they will take you door-to-door (although you may have to drop a number of other passengers off first). Bemo’s are one of the main causes of noise in town – to attract your attention they sound their horn at any pedestrian. This horn is customized to each bemo, some sound like a police siren, others like an ice-cream van, some are like wolf-whistles, whilst others are more like trains horns. On top of this there is always a young boy hanging out of the door shouting the bemo’s destination.

A bemo on the Trans-Flores Highway


To further confound this assault on the ears, all forms of transport sound their horn to make you aware of their presence. Because there appears to be no road laws (they don’t even particularly stick to driving on one side of the road) drivers beep at every junction and every time they overtake. This isn’t quite such an anarchic system as it sounds – my main concern is that I will get run over when I return to the UK as I ignore a car rushing towards me beeping!

The world of work

In response to my request for topics for the blog ‘anonymous’ asked how my work is going; witty and eloquently (or not) I've put some ideas together below - I think I may also cover one or two of Kerry's (many) suggestions, but please keep the ideas coming.

Although my job was facilitated by VSO, I actually work for a local NGO called Yayasan Ayo Indonesia (literal translation: Come On Indonesia). It’s quite a small organisation – about 30 staff, mostly working in the field, and headed up by a really dynamic and enthusiastic leader. Historically, Ayo worked primarily in road and water infrastructure, but now they also have programmes in sustainable livelihoods, marketing, institutional capacity building, and health.

There are five of us in the research team; we get on well and the work is interesting. We are at the analysis stage now and finding that although the physical infrastructure of the roads, transport systems and medical facilities is a barrier to women’s health, the biggest barrier is men. Culturally, women are not allowed to make decisions – including decisions about their own health care needs. So having to ask their husbands (or in the case of widows, their late husbands family) permission to seek treatment is a potentially fatal problem.

The next step is to write the report, and this is where my biggest problem lies. The report needs to be written in English – easy enough for me, I’ve written and published plenty of reports in English, but VSO is about “sharing skills”. How do I share the skill of writing a report in English with four Indonesians who despite speaking pretty good English will never be able to write an academic style paper in the language? If they do write sections I will just end up heavily editing them which would be disheartening for all involved. They could do the appendices – the graphs, tables and photos – but that still isn’t really sharing properly.

I think this is the reality of the theoretical problem I posed in an earlier post (just here to do a job)… I could just do the job (write the report myself), or I could work to the greater good (somehow facilitate my Indonesian colleagues in writing it). I still haven’t figured out what to do – answers on a postcard please!

Answers (part 2)

Well it’s over two months now, & I am starting to feel a little more at home, but at the same time a little more homesick. I have, on the whole, got over (or got around) missing the material things I craved last month (I’ve bought a kind of duvet to replace the wool blanket, I brought cheese back from Lombok, I’m even growing quite fond of a pair of flat denim ballet shoes!). The things I miss now are more cultural – a glass of red wine in the pub after work; a night out dancing in Windsor; having more than one friend!

On the other hand though I am adapting to my new circumstances – I get ‘hello mistered’ less (or ignore it more); I know where to buy bread, milk, mayonnaise; and I am starting to understand (if not ably communicate in) Bahasa.

But this poses a bit of a problem for the blog… as things become more ‘normal’ what can I write about? It no longer seems strange to me that you can buy green bread, or that I ride a motorbike side-saddle, or that there is no right of way when driving! So let me know through the comment button what you would like to know about & I will compose eloquent witty blogs in response (well eloquent & witty might be a bit optimistic – but I’ll write something anyway!)

The perils of Indonesia

Last night I received a text from my brother “r u alright? I heard what happened in Indonesia”. This was news to me – what had happened in Indonesia, the country that for now at least is my home? A quick search on the internet revealed an earthquake in Sulawesi, an island in the north east of Indonesia… although relatively close to Flores (which is in the south east) I had not noticed a thing.

Earthquakes, volcanic eruptions and other natural (and less natural) disasters happen frequently in Indonesia – the country covers the so called ‘ring of fire’ seismic zone – so much so that it often doesn’t make the news… either here or in the UK.

A particularly disturbing point in case is the recent floods in Aceh. This war torn region, familiar to so many after the 2003 tsunami was once again struck by disaster over Christmas. The effects of the floods were made all the worse as so many people in the area are still living in the makeshift accommodation provided following the tsunami. Kathryn has more information on her blog (www.kathryntomlinson.blogspot.com) – please take the time to visit her site and see how you can help.

Meanwhile, back here in Flores, I let my brother know that I am ok & he replied pointing out that Indonesia is “a damn big place” – true enough, but is that any excuse for the media’s (both Indonesian & Western) selective interest in these life and death stories? No one died in Sulawesi, yet it made the news even in England. Ten people died in storms in England, this made the news in Indonesia. So far 60 people have been confirmed dead in Aceh and 190,000 homeless… I didn’t even know about it, did you?

Albumen and grass paste

I am starting to grow familiar with things here now. In particular I am starting to get used to the food – learning what I like and don’t like, & what to accept when offered. So what do I eat?

As in the UK, I skip breakfast (much to Zoe’s professional concern), therefore avoiding potentially the first rice of the day. Instead I opt for a snack at around 10am – however instead of the freshly cooked scone I was partial to in the UK, here I have fruit. Mango’s are in season at the moment – abundant and cheap, but always messy!

At around 11am the office provides coffee – although Indonesia is famed for its coffee I am not too keen on their method of brewing. This involves putting a desert-spoon full of coffee and a desert-spoon full of sugar in a glass & topping up with hot water. Although I get mine without the sugar, the method still leaves an inch or two of un-dissolved coffee in the bottom of the glass which is not a very refreshing end to the drink! With the coffee we will often have some sort of sweet snack. These usually take one of two forms: something fried (banana, pineapple); or something made of rice (and ideally with some green food colouring).

Lunch in the office is always rice. Rice is the stable here (although only since the 1960s). You have a big pile of rice and a little pile of something else: dried fish heads, spicy beans, tofu (dog is reserved for special occasions). This is served with a glass of hot water. Dinner is my favourite meal of the day – the one that Zoe & I get to choose & cook for ourselves! Although choice of ingredients is a little limiting we are still managing to cook up some English classics: egg, chips & backed-beans; pasta; egg on toast.

So when we had a few people over for my birthday on Saturday we decided to treat our new Indonesian friends to English style party food. I made a range of different pizzas, crisps & nuts, & the piece de resistance: cheese & pineapple on sticks!


The Indonesians were quite weary & had to have a fair bit of alcohol before they would try the strange combinations (especially the olives… but that was just me being a little mean!). In a way it felt good getting my own back and encouraging them to realise the number of new things I am having to adapt to! But then I found this in one of my VSO resources and it made me realise quite what a strange bunch we English are! Can you work out what it’s talking about?

"They eat a food from a paste made from the seeds of a type of grass, cooked once and then burnt near a flame, which is smeared with fat from an animal. They eat this with the albumen from a bird. Traditionally they eat it at certain times of day"

"Almost the entire population is addicted to a plant substance which they drink with water and other animal or plant substances. They speak openly about this addiction apparently without shame, and have evolved certain rituals around its use"

Big Flores / Little Flores

Life in Flores often feels quite surreal, a bit like being in some strange TV programme (and would probably make pretty good viewing)...

On the one hand, I often feel as though I am in the Big Brother house… The bizarre occurrences I experience must be being staged by an evil Big Brother trying to make my life difficult and provoke a reaction (my tantrum the night the water was off & the phone was disconnected would have been award winning!). Also Big Brotheresque was our Christmas party, having been deprived of company, alcohol & music for weeks we threw ourselves into having a good time when these ‘privileges’ were suddenly available (even if company was still only a mop & a broom!).

On the other hand, I often feel as though I am in a surreal comedy like Little Britain. A few sketches in particular regularly spring to mind… working on a health project the issue of HIV/Aids regularly comes up. This is a tricky subject in a Catholic society, sex before marriage “does not happen”, but more strangely perhaps homosexuality “doesn’t exist in Flores”, so it’s not so much “the only gay in the village” but more a case of “the only gay in Flores”! The other sketch I am reminded of is the Fat Fighters one – the way the Fat Fighters leader can never understand the Indian woman’s perfectly good English. Now I’m not saying I speak perfect Bahasa, but I will, for example, ask for something in a shop using Bahasa & 10 minutes of sign language, dictionary consultation and a number of friends and relatives being brought in to translate later there is finally a moment of enlightenment & they repeat exactly what I said in the first place!

Paradise found

You may have wondered why the blog has been a little quite for the last week or so… well Zoe & I have been on holiday. At 6 am on boxing day we took a public bus to Labuan Bajo. The bus was very crowded (think of a can of sardines, add a couple of chickens, 2 bule, then add some more sardines), very uncomfortable & took a very long time – not a very pleasant start to our journey but at least we were off! From Labuan Bajo we caught a tourist boat to Lombok

The boat stopped regularly for snorkeling & we also stopped at Komodo

And at a waterfall where we swung into the water ‘tarzan style’!

We only spent 1 night on Lombok before heading out to Gili Trawangan – a self styled party island – for New Year. Gili T was everything that Bali wasn’t: people didn’t try to sell you stuff, and there was no motorized traffic (only horse & cart or bicyle), oh, and it was beautiful! Long white sandy beaches, clear blue water filled with tropical fish & turtles, beach bars, amazing sunsets, cheese… you get the picture!


We reluctantly left the island (2 days later than planned) and set off home by public transport. As you may imagine this was not without adventure (squashy ant filled buses, an annoying Australian family with 4 kids, missed ferries, buses breaking down), but I wont spoil this post by going into all that, best just to say it took 4 days to get back to rainy old Ruteng.

This is definately the side of Indonesia I've been searching for, now feeling refreshed I am ready to get on with my new life and job on Flores.