writing for self-discovery

I am learning Indonesian. It’s survival. But let’s face it, my mind doesn’t fire on all cylindars as quickly as it used to. Still fires…just not as quickly. It’s a slow process and I’m not a patient person. Ibu, the woman who cleans for me, gets so frustrated with me that she actually starts speaking English! She says she doesn’t know English but when push comes to shove, Ibu knows a heckuva lot more than she let’s on. But Ibu isn’t the problem…it’s Ketut.

When I lived at Rumah Kita, Ketut was my everything. He made my meals, he cleaned my house, he transported me wherever I wanted to go, he was indispensible. And I paid for his services. Now I live next door. Ketut is no longer my staff. But every day about 3:00  he pops his head in my door. “Want cook?” he says. The first time it happened I was surprised and said, “Sure!” He made a delicious Balinese dish that I devoured. As he got ready to leave I pulled out my wallet to pay him for cooking. He refused. “Tomorrow,” he said.

I assumed that meant I could pay him tomorrow. Wrong. It meant he would come back and cook again tomorrow. And he did, and the next day and the next day, refusing all of my efforts to pay for his services. I tried out my best Indonesian on him. “Saya tidak mau masak anda tanpa bayar.” Basically that says, I don’t want you to cook without money. He gave me his 2000 watt smile and said “Tidak apa apa.” The verbatim translation is No what what, but it means No problem.

Each day we had a similar conversation with similar results. Until today, that is. As he repeated his “Tidak apa apa,” Google Translate flashed into my consciousness. I whipped out the computer while Ketut looked at me quizzically. “What?” he said.

“I’m going to solve this problem!” I answered.

“Tidak apa apa,” he said.

“Wrong!” I almost shouted. “There IS a problem and this will fix it!” I pulled up the screens for translating English into Indonesian and typed in “I feel bad when you come here and cook on your time off and won’t let me pay you.” He was watching over my shoulder, chuckling when the Indonesian words popped up as I typed. He started to say something and I said, “Uh-uh, Ketut.” I switched the screens so they would be Indonesian to English then said,  “Type what you want to say in Indonesian.” So he did.

This is what it said, “Don’t worry. I like to cook. It makes me happy to cook for my friend.” I don’t think any tears escaped, but I couldn’t speak for a while. So this post is for my friend, Ketut. His village is in the mountains near Kintamani. I’ve been there many times but this trip was for his daughter’s 12 day ceremony. I got to hold Nenga when she was just 12 days old. Sweetness!

Ketut’s mother holds little Nenga

Ketut is such a proud daddy!

Ketut’s niece holds the baby while grandpa smiles

Ketut’s wife, Komang has been up all night for 12 nights because Nenga sleeps all day!

I only saw her eyes once for about a half second. She slept through everything…big yawn! What a sweetheart!

Behind Ketut and Komang is the temporary bamboo shrine that marks the spot where the placenta is buried.

The holy man blessed the offerings made for the baby’s 12th day

He posed for a photo before he took off for his next ceremony!

I am always stunned by the way this family gives. Before I left we took a trip to the garden. His mother and brother dug sweet potatoes. Ketut was up a tree faster than a monkey, harvesting handfuls of guavas. Then rambutan, and other tropical delights that don’t have pronounceable names were added to the mounds of edibles. I came home with bags full of produce and a heart overflowing with gratitude.

Friend. The word has taken on new meaning for me. Sometimes it feels even bigger than love.