Indonesia - Holding Hands

On the bus ride from Yogyakarta, Indonesia I met a young Muslim woman, who wore a typical veil that covered her hair and around her chin (see picture - women on the right). She was returning from university to her parent's home. This young woman spoke excellent English. We talked a great deal during the bus ride. Eventually she asked me to come meet her family. Wow, this was a special invitation. Most English conversations that I had in Asia were with males, since they were the ones fortunate enough to have a formal education. The invitations I received by most males, I could not accept. My gut often told me that there was more to those invitations than a cup of tea. So this invitation was extra special, since I felt that I could accept it from this highly educated Muslim woman. We got off the bus. I tossed on my big blue North Face backpack and followed her home.

When I got to her home, I was a bit self-conscious. I was not dressed appropriately to meet her family, especially her parents. What was wrong? My legs were showing. Fortunately, I always carried a wrap for just these occasions. I pulled my wrap out from my backpack and wrapped it around my waist. I made sure it touched the top of my sandals, hoping to cover my ankles as well. Now I was ready to enter her home.

I am not sure if this young Muslim woman brought people home often or I was a unique guest. First she announced my presence and then I was asked to come in. When I walked through the door, her parents, brother, and younger sister were all very welcoming. Since this took place in 1996, I can not remember if they all spoke English or not. I do remember being well taken care of. I was served tea and a few cookies in a room with just females. A couple of female friends came by to meet me. After about an hour of tea, cookies, and chatting with her sister and female friends, we all went outside for a walk.

The walk was more like a parade around her neighborhood. Although the sun had already set, I think my young friend wanted to be seen with me. It certainly was a pleasant night so I was fine with this. After walking for a few minutes, my new friend grabbed my hand. We were holding hands! This was extremely awkward for me. I so wanted to pull away. However, I had learned in Asia that holding hands with someone of the same sex is not necessarily a sign of one's sexuality. I first realized this in India. Men hold hands in the street with other men all the time. At first I thought India had a huge gay population. Eventually I came to realize that this was most often a sign of friendship. This young Muslim woman was letting me know that she thought of me as her friend. I did not want to insult her in any way. I held her hand for close to 10 minutes before I could figure out a way to release without being rude. As you can tell, I was uncomfortable but I realized this was just a difference between our cultures.

After spending a couple of hours at her home and around her neighborhood, it was time for me to get to my hotel for the night. Since I had no idea where I was and it was getting late, I accepted a ride from her brother. He had a motorbike and he knew where my hotel was located. I ran into a slight problem here. In this situation women usually sit side saddle. At least that is the appropriate or lady-like way of ridding on the back of a motorbike. I had my big backpack on and there was no way for me to do this. I also had my wrap on. There was no way I could hop on the back of the bike with the wrap. After pretending to be a proper lady for her family, I ripped off my wrap and straddled the back of the motorbike in my shorts behind her brother. Again, another uncomfortable situation. I tried to stay at least an inch away from her brother and hold onto the seat of the motorbike the best that I could. This was a difficult ride to my hotel with my backpack on but fortunately for me her brother did not bring attention to this awkward situation. I am sure he had a fun story to tell the next day.

Indonesia - A Village Wedding

One day in Sumatra, Indonesia a young man invited me and a handful of other travels to a wedding. Honestly I was not sure if he was telling the truth. There are always merchants or unscrupulous people who try to lure you away for money or sex or some scheme. To attend the wedding we would have to pay a couple of dollars. I asked the man, "Why do you need a couple of dollars from each of us to view the wedding?" He said the money goes towards gas in the van and a small wedding gift for the bride and groom. This seemed reasonable. A group of 7 of us piled into the van and away we went.

Before we arrived at the wedding the van made a stop. I asked the driver why he was stopping. He said he needed to go buy the gift for the bride and groom. About 10 minutes later he came out of the store with a package. I asked what was in the package. He said he bought some cloth for the bride to make some clothing with. I saw the material and thought this was a very nice gesture. This made me feel that this little adventure may actually be legit.

We pulled up to a big outdoor meeting place. I can not remember if the structure had a cement foundation or just dirt tightly packed. There were no walls but an extremely large wood and tin or aluminum roof. This must be where the village goes for meetings, celebrations, and other important gatherings.

There were hundreds of people of all ages there. They were all dressed in their finest clothes. I asked the driver where we were supposed to go. He said to follow him. Honestly, I felt like a wedding crasher. I wasn't sure this was such a good idea. We did not get kicked out so that was a good sign. Now I was especially glad that we stopped off to buy a wedding gift.

As I mentioned, the villagers were all dressed in their finest clothing. The funny thing is that many of the women had red teeth - bright red teeth. They like to chew on beetle nut, which turns their entire mouth red. The women had on very beautiful clothes and then they would smile with bright red teeth.

By the time we had arrived, the ceremony had already begun. The bride and groom stood in the middle of the wedding hall along with several VIPs. At one point an older man got up to speak and he began to cry. Most of the people in attendance were crying as well. I did not know what they were saying but my eyes became watery. I asked my guide what the older man was saying. He told me that the groom's father had passed away. The older man was a close friend of the groom's father. The older man was saying how the groom's father would have cherished this day and would have been so proud of his son. Now that I had a better understanding of what was being said, a tear dropped from my eye.

At the end of the ceremony it was time to give the bride and groom their gifts. The older women lined up with gifts in hand. This by far was my favorite part of the ceremony. In the picture to the left you will see some of the gifts. One woman is carrying a large weaved mat on her head. Another woman has a teapot in hand. If you look closely at the woman in the blue blouse on the far left you will notice a chicken in her hands. Several women are holding pots and one woman has a lantern. In this Indonesian village there is no Williams Sonoma gift registry. The village women are responsible for furnishing the items needed to start a home. I can only imagine that the men help build the hut. This was something very special to see.

Once the formal ceremony was over it was time to eat. The people formed groups of about 25. The women dished out rice from large containers and placed small portions in a bowl. After everyone had some rice, meat and vegetables were added to the dish. Everyone sat on the ground as they talked, ate, and were merry. The food, dishes, and other items needed for the wedding seemed to be brought by all the villagers. Instead of the bride and groom putting on a wedding for the villagers, the villagers put on a wedding for the bride and groom. This is what I found to be so very special about this wedding, and I was privileged to be a part of it.