Notes from Bali

Since my last blog I have left the familiar western serving town of Ubud to live in rural Bali with a Balinese family in their compound. The idea behind this move, for my last five weeks on the island, has been to create a more intensive working schedule with the various programmes I have been setting up to ensure they continue and have support after I leave.

As the first foreigner to stay in the village I was first required to register with the regional “intelligence” police who, by hand, drew up a list of rules I was to abide by during my stay. This has included my assistant and translator having to send an SMS to the Chief of Police at the end of the day regarding my various activities.

In contrast to Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, a novel which unfolds a journey into the primitive darkness of human existence in deepest Africa, the experience of living in this secluded Balinese paradise has been a journey in simplicity,  a wisdom of people who live from the heart rather than the head, of giving and of coming into contact with the natural world.

A typical day begins with the rousing chaos of restless dogs, hens, frogs and the like which preludes the sunrise from behind a large volcano just 30 minutes away. After some Balinese sweet cakes and coffee prepared by the ever busy mother of the family its off for a morning walk through the rice fields (still being ploughed by cows) down to the holy waterfall for a shower. By the time I arrive back to the compound my first class of enthusiastic teenagers have congregated for a lesson before they begin high school.  The late morning is taken up by helping  rebuild and repaint the family temple followed by an afternoon of teaching four groups of twelve 6-9 year olds. Then before a dinner of rice and a variety of incredibly spicy Balinese dishes its either for a walk through the rice paddies hand in hand with the whole troop of village kids or perhaps a game of volleyball with the teenagers.

The days are always filled with laughter. As I write this I am just watching the father of the family I stay with chasing a chicken around the compound. So too the chorus of farting and burping resounds. The mother actually work me up the other morning with a 15 second trumpet-like passing of wind outside my door. Moreover, an extended stay has afforded an in depth experience of the cycle of Balinese life, with births and deaths affecting the family during my stay.

I’ll leave you with some pictures of the last few weeks. I’ll be back in the UK on the 6th September and I look forward to meeting up with many of you when I‘m then. I hope my work here has been worthwhile. It seems the pull of globalization requires change and for the Balinese people and I hope the children I have taught and the on-going programmes  set up with the Bali Children’s Project will be of benefit in making the transition easier.

2nd Class of the Day

Painting the Family Temple Late into the Night

A Spicy Dish to feed the Painters

Bringing Offering to the Ceremony for the finished Temple

Cooking the Pig on Ceremony Day

Cooking the Duck

My Assistant and Host Sang Made

Oldest in the Village - 91 - Is the only time he hasn't smiled

I was delighted ten days ago to receive the news that I won a small scholarship for the MBA in Corporate Social Responsibility I begin in late September. No doubt they’ll be be happy to know that I have managed to add a little to this stipend today with some small winnings in the local cockfighting festival.

Interestingly cockfighting is illegal in Bali as is gambling except on ceremonial days when the temples open their courtyards to strangely familiar biblical-like scenes of debauchery where Jesus could be imagined uprooting tables and bellowing moral rectitude. I had until today managed to avoid the cockfighting taboo but seeing as I was invited by the friendly owner of my villa and the venue was accessible via a small 10 metre alleyway behind my compound it was all to easy join the mob.

Two cocks were lined up opposite the other, each with a blade attached to their leg and held whilst their owners massaged and stimulated their feistiness in the lead up to the fight. The crowd of frenzied men placed bets and with rising boisterousness the fight began. Within two minutes and lots of flapping one cock was mortally slashed and the fight was over. Bets were squared and the cock was quickly put out of its misery, defeathered, sliced, diced and bagged ready for the owner’s dinner. There were about fifteen fights in total with people coming from far and wide with their prized cocks. Dotted around the fighting ring were  other huddles of various dice games including one which revolved around selecting the correct type of Buddha! The temple I was told got a 20% cut of everything. A true den of iniquity.

Every culture seems to need an outpouring of its baser animal nature as a natural dialectical turn, restrained most of the time in the confines of its social order. In Japan, perhaps the most ordered society in the world, the Shinto Buddhist’s have a ceremony once a year where thousands of intoxicated men, dressed in ceremonial garb, huddle in a space hardly big enough for half their number run loose, fight, make chaos and devastate the otherwise neat and tidy streets. Remarkably the following day order is returned, streets are spotless and participants are back in their suits and offices. (I guess in the West things like drugs, alcohol, football and gardening are similarly the necessary counterpoint to the drudgery of normal social reality).

In a different way from Japan, Balinese culture is also one of the most methodical systems of social and religious order on earth. An intricate arrangement of tasks, roles, ceremonies and customs hold each Balinese person within a cultural lattice created by the unique blend of Hinduism superimposed over the immense rice-growing agricultural society which thrives by collective co-operation. Each village has a Banjar (an organization that administers, through consensus, the political, economic, agricultural and religious decisions) and the well-being of the collective is considered far more important than that of the individual’s. Within this matrix, religious ceremonies are of utmost importance. Life is a constant cycle of ceremonies and offerings and whether in my compound or when visiting a village, women seem to spend most over their time either preparing for a ceremony, participating in a ceremony or cleaning up after a ceremony. Moreover, everything must be performed in the correct order or the cosmos will fall out of equilibrium. Offerings (consisting of flower and stacked fruit offerings) are performed five times a day and likewise there are ceremonies that run on weekly, yearly, ten year and hundred year bases. There are also only four names in Bali: Wayan, Made, Nyoman and Ketut for both men and women. They mean first, second, third and fourth respectively with a fifth child starting the cycle again. The ethos to be maintained is that of order and balance, which is depicted in much of the art here. The Balinese organise how things go to keep them from falling apart. Perhaps cocks are a vital part. Not only do they wake everyone up for the daily routine but also allow the Balinese to vicariously displace their violence, competitiveness and anger not otherwise allowed.

In seeking my own balance I have tried to blend weekly work in Ubud with weekend road trips too see more of the island. Recently, I went to meet Tjokorda Gede Rai, considered one of the most skilled healers in Bali.  At 78, he is the grandson of the last King of Ubud. To the western scientific mind an ancient wisdom healer is usually disregarded as a hocus-pocus swizzler whose power is derived from those with a narrow fear-based worldview seeking something to believe in.

Nevertheless with open-minded curiosity I entered his compounded and headed towards a central pavilion where he was just finishing the treatment of a client by chopping up some herbs, swilling them in his mouth then carefully spitting them over different parts of the unsuspecting client’s face. When my turn came, without any pressing problem I asked for a simple “check-up”. He sat on a low chair and I lay on the floor in between his legs. He touched various meridians around the head, put his fingers in my ears and then placed his hands on several points on my back and chest and then proceeded to press some really painful areas at the temples, lower neck and shoulders before moving to the feet to poke around some further excruciating points on the toes with a crude reflexology twig. One point caused such a tremendous shudder through my body, which seemed to return to some primary sense of balance, followed by ten uncontrollable minutes of hysterical laughter. I felt great!…was it the absurdity of the whole situation?…had something actually happened?… I don’t know… it was certainly worth the $20 just for the relentless laughter which caused amusement in everyone around…After all isn’t the seriousness with which we wade through life one of the biggest cosmic jokes of all!

Of course sometimes we need to be serious but the volunteer work continues to be joy without this quality. The children are so enthusiastic – scores of kids run to greet me with book and pen in hand as I approach the village  – that it is always a wonderful, riotous occasion of learning and games. After seven weeks or so I am surprised how quickly they have picked up English and there is a sense that it will make a real difference in the choices they can make in their lives.  I am also currently  in the process of developing a curriculum to make it easier for future volunteers to pick up and continue the work and I’m looking forward to the coming weeks presentations to get other organisations to help with our upcoming apprenticeship programs for teenagers and young adults.

I’ll leave you with some pictures of the last few weeks….

Many of us spend our days like zombies on speed, guzzling caffeine, schizo-frenetically multitasking, twittering and fidgeting, and thereby sacrificing what is really a rather brief span on this magnificent ball of madness to the insatiable demands of work, consumption, self-improvement, technological intervention and a future of should’s and shouldn’ts.

After a month or so in Bali, I have at times managed to relinquish this impetus via a gradual slowdown to sync with the pace of live here. Although it is possible to stumble into a black hole of touristic doing, time in Bali doesn’t generally exist with the linear, objective, techno-paced agenda of industrialised society and the clock. It slows and speeds up according to the natural rhythms of culture (daily ceremonies in villages for weddings, deaths and births, Hindu rites and monthly full moon celebrations take precedent over the working day) and nature (heavy afternoon downpours or extreme heat bring people to a halt and together for shelter) which makes attunement with just being and life in the moment far easier.

Sometimes here in Ubud it is possible to just sit with nature for hours on end, listen to the distant gongs of a ceremony, have a nap, indulge in a massage or cruise through the beautiful rice paddies on the bike. This weekend in particular was a further adventure in stillness with a visit to the beaches of Southern Bali. Joining me on the trip was an old friend from the UK. Pit-stopping at various beaches we finally found a remote surfers beach tucked into the rock face, lined with a handful of cheap (£2 per night) wooden rooms and wonderful restaurants overlooking the vista of blue sea, golden sand and scores of surfers attempting the huge 10ft waves. Unable to surf due to a ripped open big toe playing football on a stony pitch there was nothing to do but unwind, observe, slowdown and reflect on a book I recently read by a Zen master who claims that being is time . (In other words, we don’t just move through time or submit to time or make time -we are time). Furthermore, what such a temporal break enabled is time to relax, take a breath and re-consider what really matters.

Respectively, just before I left for Bali it seemed the global economic juggernaut of blind doing,  progress and achieving might change pace too as headlines bellowed with warnings of “a significant economic slowdown” and I don’t know about you but I thought this may actually be quite a good thing. Sure, I understand that a “slowdown” describes the debilitating intermission in capitalism’s endless expansion – that means families get pushed into poverty, small businesses close, the poor grow desperate and the rich even more selfish – but couldn’t the world do with a bit of a slowdown to allow us to sit back and re-assess where it is we are going and why the hurry? Undoubtedly the planet wouldn’t mind if we all just pulled over for a couple of years before flooring it again towards the materialist’s dream.

And mysteriously it seems once you slow down enough, you can see all the things that need help and care, you have more time to attend to them and more time to creatively respond to complications and uncertainty. If the current slowdown is not too disastrous, it could create more possibility in time and space for individuals and communities to take responsibility for their lives and localities and for some of the countless fresh solutions that already exist to take root. There may not be as much money whizzing around, but there certainly would be more human hours for human needs and room for innovation and creativity to emerge that responds to the problems of our time with new thinking.

Cooking Chicken Satay for Breakfast

So in the spirit of a slowdown and I’ll end here and now write every two weeks. I’m glad so many people are enjoying the updates and musings and I really enjoy hearing from you.

Best wishes

Oli

Class of 2009

There are many hazards in Bali: when riding a bike you may drive into a waft of chilli from a road side restaurant, temporarily blinding you for 10 crucial seconds; you may be bitten by a dengue fever carrying mosquito, snake or mangy dog; you may contract some water-borne disease like Hepatitis A; you may be ploughed off the road by a truck hurtling down the wrong side of the road; you may be stopped by a policemen wanting a bribe; you may bump into a new-Ager promising enlightenment, a yoga mat and a cappuccino or you may venture into the infamous Kuta and encounter drunk, violent aussies, broken glass and lady boys looking for a companion for the evening.

However, the greatest and perhaps most caustic hazard you may encounter is the profit-making volunteer organisation. I first came across this vile aberration when I began to research where I’d like to volunteer and what I’d like to do. Pay £200 for a week in South America, India, Africa or some developing country in the Far East and you can really help an organutang, panda, orphan or perhaps even clean up some elephant shit. Furthermore as a volunteer you can be confident in the knowledge that your money will be going straight to the directors’ of the organisation and not to the specific need. In fact even the so-called non-profits use the handy tax loop- holes so directors’ can claim hefty expenses.

I came across such a specimen of German form last week, Henning. Entering one of my villages with a typical Gestapo-like  pout, he proceeded to try to split up my group (who I am in the process of developing over the next 3 months) so that a two-week volunteer of his could have a placement. When I asked if any of the money the volunteer would be paying would go towards providing resources for the kids I received a nonchalant “NO”.  He duly received a motion to move on, bitte.

Bali is a melting pot of such organisations selling the idea of doing good. Here in Ubud we have the luxurious Bali Spirit Group who run a five star hotel and several cafes (with wifi) selling ethical soap and incense and advertising their support of the community, yet at the same time refuse to publish exactly what they do or coherently detail their projects when asked. They attract a sarong-wearing, ray-ban clad, Apple Mac carrying tourist who can sip an extortionately priced blue-berry shake whilst munching some organic granola safe in the knowledge they are helping the community.

In our consumer society marketeers, having raped all the traditional manipulative advertising techniques, have stooped to a seedy level of selling this idea of doing good to create a strong brand. Starbuck’s “Fair trade“, BP’s “Beyond Petroleum”, Shell’s “Flower Valley” and the British government’s recent pseudo-offering to a greener economy (can always rely on Gordon Brown for a bit of bullshit) all serve to distract from a darker underbelly. On a personal level we find a reflection of this branding in the scores of people who try to market a more amenable personal image by running, bungee jumping, or perhaps even picking a bogey for charity – far removed from the source of suffering.

What I am trying to get at here is probably best summed up by a recent conversation with some Aussies over here. When I mentioned what I was doing here they commented, “Ah good on ya mate, good to give something back”. It’s as if we have taken so such and been so selfish that perhaps by doing good or donating we can buy a better  guilt-free consciousness or  perhaps even “mitigate” the looming judgement in the final analysis. In brief, my experience is that if you come face-to-face with suffering and feel it and if you really see the consequences of actions then you naturally change how you are in the world. It’s not about giving back or worrying about right or wrong.

This ties into whether we live to experience or experience in order to know how to live. Seeing so many tourists passing through Bali – snapping everything in sight to archive for some later recollection, taking up every activity from white water-rafting to an elephant trek to a weeks experience of volunteering – I am struck by how ingrained this concept of “my life” and the quest to collect experiences is in western culture. In fact this is why we have books such as 101 Things to do before you die and Austin Powers’s list which included sleeping with Japanese twins.  Yet is it possible that if we widen our lens beyond “me and mine” we experience the truth that we live in a deeply interconnected world where our actions do have an effect on others (see previous blogs) and we can open possibilities to really make a difference?

Next week I will be segwaying into this sticky world with a presentation to the Rotary Club here in Bali to raise money for the Bali Children’s Project’s upcoming programmes (apprenticeships for disadvantaged teenagers in engineering, running small businesses and becoming a tour guide).  Wealthy expats will be able to quaff red-wine, discuss the issues raised by my talk and  head back to their gated mansions in 4×4’s, bang their suspiciously young native girlfriends and take some time to mull over whether or not to donate to our projects.

Fortunately any donations we do receive will go straight to our projects, no hands in the troth. As a small organisation with a simple infrastructure we can target exactly what the need is, what resources will be helpful and then act accordingly. I feel sorry for organisation such as UNICEF and the various TSUNAMI funds as they  have so much money at their disposal and so little local knowledge and expertise to ascertain how to help that often the money just sits there as no one has a clue what to do with it.

Host Family and me at Ceremony

In between blog musings I have been enjoying the warmth of the Balinese people. On Thursdays and Fridays I head to a relatively remote village of 500 people where I am teaching a group of 40 kids and developing things for them to do in the day such as a chess club and sport.  The biggest problem here for rural kids is that they have nothing to do. Sure they enjoying an extended childhood with wonderful nature and wildlife and lots of friends to play with but the conveyor belt stops there. It is a joy to be able to offer them something that may be constructive for their future.

Showering at the Holy Waterfall

The people of the village are delighted I’m there and I stay with a family with four sons, two of which work on a cruise ship. This is quite a common scenario for people in developed countries. The cruise ships seize on cheap labour, offering 16hr work days and cramped living conditions for in return for $500 a month which compared to the average $100 a month in Bali is an good albeit unattractive option for young Balinese people. It enables them to take care of their parents, often old and with a bad back from years of farming in the paddy fields. This Thursday I was invited to a evening ceremony in which we made various flower offering to various Hindu Gods, dressed in traditional Balinese clothing, followed by  a trek through the rice paddies to shower in the local holy waterfall.

Some more pics below. Till next week….I’m going for a blueberry shake!

More Washing - nice and white

Let the Games Begin

Teaching Active Verbs

Kids at the Ceremony

Due to the time taken to upload pictures I will post my blog at the end of the week….in the meantime please see pics below

Firstly, thank you for all you messages and well wishing.

Working with so many children this last week has reminded me what it is like to be like a child again: Curious, playful, joyful, playing the fool, simple amusement, lightness and full of wonderment. In fact it is impossible to be serious or heavy here!

Each day I have no idea what I will be doing, yet each day turns into an adventure. Typically I will call into the Bali Children’s Project HQ at 8 a.m. and they will send me to a village to teach. Last Monday I headed to Gianyar, 30km from my home, to teach an expected twenty children. Thirty eight turned up of different ages, full of mischief and enthusiasm to learn. We learnt how to order in a restaurant with hilarious role-plays with little waiters and waitresses followed by a few bundles and games near the rice paddies. I actually turned up a little late to the class owing to a burst tyre on my bike. Much to the amusement of the locals was the scene of a foreigner pushing his bike uphill for a mile in the blistering heat to find the nearest repair shop!

Then later in the week I got the call to head up into the mountains of Munduk, in Northern Bali, 2hrs away. Feeling like the flying doctor I scooted up winding roads, avoided numerous potholes and wacky races stlye driving to arrive to a greeting by the whole village which included wonderful food, wonderful views and a nights stay with a family. We all stayed in a one room. Grandparents, father and mother, four kids and me all sleeping side by side in age order!

I love the fact that I don’t know what I’ll be doing each day or who or how many people I will be teaching or what part of Bali I will be visiting. It demands that I am creative, spontaneous, comfortable with the unknown and have a good sense of direction to navigate the unsignposted roads. It also gives me a chance to meet so many varied people and get a taste of what it is life is life of Balinese people.

It seems Balinese people are genuinely kind hearted and warm but are fast grasping for the ideal of success . Asking elders whether they preferred life in Bali now or thirty years ago they are unanimous that they where far happier before when benevolence was the main facet of Balinese life: when the whole village helped someone to build a house, when ceremonies had meaning rather than just a tourist show and when someone was homeless or in need they would be welcomed into a household. In fact before the advent of tourism very few people were in poverty here, the land and benevolent system in place provided plenty of food and shelter for everyone. Yet the spectre of success (bigger car, gate house, more new friends) through servicing tourists and people moving out of their communities of origin has engendered self interest, where it is rare of anyone to do anything for free, where theft and violent crime are on the increase and where the rich/poor divide is widening. When I asked what their view of what life in the west was like, their fantasy is that it is a place where no one goes hungry, everyone is happy and has what they want. Ironic projection given what Bali used to be like

Interspersed with meeting the local people and children I have had the chance to visit beautiful botanical gardens, take long walks in the jungle see waterfalls and monkeys and also indulge in the famed Balinese long-stoke massage. Funnily enough I was a little confused during the massage as the rather attractive masseuse asked if I would like it “With pleasure”. After the massage I realized she was referring to having the massage with ancient art of “acupressure” which of course I had received!

I look forward to posting same time next week. Unfortunately I’m having trouble uploading pictures so two will have to do for this week…..please feel free to post a message in the meantime

Mount Agung - View from my Window

As I sit at my desk to write this blog I overlook a beautiful valley: 500 meters away is a ridge on which locals (usually women) transport baskets of rice and bricks on their heads like worker ants, Mount Agung, a live volcano, smoulders in the distance and below the Sungai, a river used for white water rafting, twists and turns. I’m staying at the Bali Children’s Project’s house, a volunteer organisation whose mission it is to improve the lives of disadvantaged young people in Bali through education. Over the next four months I will be responsible for developing programmes which will include teaching English, business skills, healthcare, environmental awareness and meditation (a bit odd seeing as Bali is known as one of the most spiritual places on earth!).

To get acquainted with the island before I officially start work I have spent the last three days buzzing around on a moped. Amongst the paradisiacal backdrop of endless palm-tree lined rice paddies, lush plant life and arts and crafts to make the eye water is Ubud, my local town, which is the artistic heart of Bali.

One of Many Rice Paddies

Fearing the dilution of Balinese values and attitudes elsewhere on the island Ubud’s prince has tried to eliminate the toxic influence by banning billboards, night-markets’, cinemas, wheeled food stalls, dodgy cafes, bars and massage parlours. Yet perhaps the most toxic influence, western is rife. From the subtle addition to the many arts and crafts shops of paintings of Mick Jagger, Marylyn Monroe and Scarface among statues of Buddha, Hindu gods and goddesses and scenes of traditional Balinese life; to the huge infrastructure of internet cafes, tour services, money changers and luxury spas and yoga retreats (yoga only came to Bali 15 years ago) it is clear that even Ubud “the only real Balinese town on the island” is geared up in service of the westerner coming to escape the hum drum of the 9 to 5.

I found a super-charged version of this after a 30km ride to Kuta, attacked by Muslims in the infamous “Bali Bombings” for selling out to western influences. Lining a beautiful 4km beach are the ubiquitous KFC, McDonalds, Hard Rock Hotel, I love Bali T-Shirts Shops, nightclubs and not to forget the ethical and fair-trade experts Starbucks. So on the one hand in Bali’s two main cities we have the cultural centre for the sophisticated western traveller and on the other, a hedonistic playground for those you might find on a boozy night in Watford.

Kuta Beach

An offering

Nevertheless, Just a 1km walk from my house into the undergrowth opens the world of traditional Bali. Here outside every wood carved doorstop is a floral or food offering to the Gods that the locals offer several times a day. Villagers still acting out of benevolence offer friendly smiles. They also have a ceremony for everything from the coming full moon to repeated celebrations for the coming of a new born into the world with ceremonies at 3,6 and 9 months. However, the patriarchal systems rules here. Men do nothing. The women build the homes, cook, bring up the children and are pretty much married as slaves. In fact even if the man dies, the inheritance will go to the children not the wife. Interestingly, as a spin off of this system I have been given a maid. I am surprised that she is here to make me breakfast when I wake up, clean the house daily, wash my clothes etc. She keeps asking me if there is anything else she can do?

Doorway to BCP

So it seems little ambiguous what I am here to do. As tourism is by far the number one industry am I training the locals to be able to work in this industry which by its nature entices the locals into chance to aspire to our western materialism: mobile phones, wide screen TVs, gated houses and general self-interest? Or am I helping to give them the opportunity to empower themselves and their community? It is clear that the drug and tobacco companies have already chosen. The seductive Marlboro man is in town (90% of Balinese men smoke) and drug companies are heavily advertising the perfect antidote to modern life; the painkiller.

Still beyond the initial culture shock and ideological confusion neo-Balinese life is starting to grow on me. As I sit here writing this blog I can hear rushing water, birds chirping and am excited to meet my first group of twenty rural children tomorrow, many of whom have never met a westerner before. So too on the weekends I will have the chance the explore by bike the further reaches of Bali which include deserted beaches, local islands, great dive sites, volcanoes, botanical gardens and the opportunity to learn how to paint at the Ubud Museum of Art.

Another Volunteer's Class

Sampai jumpa lagi! (Catch you later!)