Part 3: God's flair for the dramatic!

In early 2004, Dave Bonney received an e-mail from Ronny Welong, President of STK, asking if there would be the possibility of forming a team to help with the construction of a home in a small interior village. Ronny is a multi-gifted visionary. Originally from the city of Manado, Sulawesi, Ronny has been a driving force at STK almost from its inception. He has overseen its growth, not only with regard to the number of students but also in the upgrading and expanding of the curriculum. Not content just to educate young men and women for ministry, Ronny and his wife Rit, have themselves ventured into many remote areas of West Kalimantan with a goal toward establishing local Christian congregations. More recently, Ronny saw the need for a broad based vocational facility at which young men and women from the villages would be taught a variety of farming techniques in combination with Christian theological studies. Many villages lack the necessary knowledge to raise animals and grow crops in an efficient and hygienic manner. The location selected for this training centre was the village of Adong, lying just off the main bus route about 20 minutes from Ngabang.

In 2000, two Daves (viz. Bonney and Syer) had formed the team - in 2004, we added a third Dave as well as a Daniel. Dave Clark, a long time friend of Dave Bonney was a pastor in Ogunquit, Maine. Daniel Konzelmann, originally from Switzerland, owns and operates an organic farm near Petrolia, Ontario, and like Dave Syer, is a parishioner of Dave Bonney. Dave Clark had flown in to Toronto Airport; Dave Bonney, Dave Syer and Daniel had driven up from the Sarnia area; I had come from Niagara Falls, and on the afternoon of Monday, November 15th, all five descended upon the home of Blair and Janet Clark (no relation to Dave Clark) where we would spend the night before catching an 8:30 a.m. flight from Toronto Airport to Chicago's O'Hare Airport. Blair and Janet had, themselves, been missionaries in Pontianak partnering with the Bonneys. Janet had prepared a delicious Indonesian supper which set the stage beautifully for what we would experience over the following three weeks.

Tuesday, November 16th.

During 2004, Dave Bonney's younger son, James was studying at Moody Bible Institute in Chicago. About a week before the team was to leave for Indonesia, James found out that his lecturers were taking several days off for professional development purposes. The period of time allotted for the professors' PD coincided with the first week that the team would be in Indonesia. James, who was born in Pontianak, had a desire to return to where he grew up and, with classes having been suspended, expressed a wish to accompany the team.

Several months earlier, Dave Bonney's Elder Board had approved the establishing of a travel fund to allow church members to contribute toward alleviating some of the expenses that would be incurred by the Indonesia team. The membership had been generous and the fund, having reached the point of covering all costs, had been closed to further donations. The total cost of the trip was around $3000 per person which was prohibitive for James. But God opened the door by means of a lady member of Dave's church who, although too late to add to the fund, none-the-less, still wished to donate a sum of money toward any other mission project that would be sponsored by Dave's church. Later, when James had called Dave explaining the situation at Moody and his desire to go to Indonesia, Dave spoke with the lady donor asking if she would approve the money being used to cover James' expenses. She agreed to the request; the sum being the exact amount needed. The CBM travel co-ordinator was then quickly contacted to see what flights were available for James. With less than a week remaining before the team flew out of Toronto, it appeared likely that James would have to travel alone. But God intervened and the CBM co-ordinator was able to secure tickets allowing James to travel on the same three flights on which the team would be traveling. Our itinerary would take us from Chicago to Tokyo, onto Jakarta and finally Pontianak.

The word miracle is often an over-used and frequently mis-applied term. But the circumstances that all came together to allow James to fulfill his wish were more than mere co-incidence or luck. And it would seem, at least from James' perspective, that there was one more 'miracle'. However, the other five team members were perhaps not so inclined to attribute to the Lord the good fortune that befell James while checking in his luggage....unless, of course, the Lord is no longer the same yesterday, today and forever (Hebrews 13:8) and now does show partiality (Acts 10:34) particularly to hard-up theology students.

Being a Chicago resident, James arrived at O'Hare before our flight from Toronto had landed and, therefore, was able to check his luggage and have a boarding pass issued before the rest of the team had arrived. The clerk at the check-in counter began to engage James in conversation asking why he was flying such a distance alone. James explained the circumstances that had led to his being able to take this trip, whereupon the clerk had James hand back the boarding pass just issued and promptly tore it up, remarking that he could offer James something more suitable. A new boarding pass was printed with a new seat assignment. James was delighted to discover that he had been upgraded to the first class section of the Japan Airlines 747 that would carry us all to Tokyo. The Bible encourage believers to rejoice with those who rejoice (which we did for James, magnanimously) but it also mandates one to mourn with those who mourn (Romans 12:15) and we reminded James, as he took his seat in the palatial surroundings of the elites of this world, that he had a Biblical obligation, if not to mourn, at least to empathise with those who would be traveling 'steerage' for twelve long hours.

This leg of the trip saw us touch down at Narita Airport in Tokyo. After checking into our hotel rooms and enjoying a refreshing shower, we took a hotel shuttle bus to a nearby mall where we did a little shopping and also had supper. We boarded the last shuttle bus of the evening to take us back to our Hotel, one of several in the complex. The bus made several stops to pick up other hotel guests including five young ladies who were wearing the uniform of Thailand Air. We were all seated in front of the rear bench seat and these Flight Attendants sat down immediately behind us. James, as was his wont, very quickly began a conversation with these young ladies. They asked why we were traveling to Indonesia and James answered that we were on a short-term mission trip. We were staggered when one of the ladies expressed a desire to know God and had prayed that she would meet somebody who could explain to her who Jesus is. She remarked that Buddhism is a religion with no hope in its teachings. We were already aware of James' developing evangelistic gifts and he started to speak to them about the Lord. We eventually arrived at our hotel and we headed for the exit at the front of the bus. All, that is except James, who indicated that he wanted to stay on the bus to continue sharing more about the Lord with these ladies and assured us he would catch up with us later. Before we fully realised what was happening, the bus had pulled away, disappearing into the night. Now what? Dave and I decided to take James at his word and we spent an hour in the hotel lobby waiting for him to return. At midnight, a father's concern motivated us to go looking for James. We had a vague idea where the next hotel was located and began to walk there. About 15 minutes later we reached the hotel and asked the receptionist if a young man had entered the hotel accompanying five Thai Air flight attendants. The receptionist replied that he had not noticed such a group and further added that Thai Air did not use that particular hotel. Again, now what? It was past midnight; we were in a Tokyo suburb, neither of us knew a word of Japanese and we were missing a son and nephew. I suggested we look for the next hotel (based on what the receptionist had told us) but Dave preferred to wait a little longer. And his instincts were correct! After some twenty minutes, James casually strolled out of the hotel and proceeded to tell us that he had lead two of these ladies to a saving knowledge of Christ. We were relieved to be re-united and that relief allowed us to mentally give the receptionist the benefit of the doubt why we had been lied to. Presumably his motive was to protect the guests from two furtive and suspicious looking characters. All's well that ends well, we determined - for a man and his son...and especially for two new believers.

Inset: Dave and James Bonney (at O'Hare)

at Narita - standing: Dave Syer, Dave Bonney

seated: Myself, Dave Clark, Daniel Konzellman

The next morning (Thursday 18th), we boarded a Japan Airlines 777 for the six hour flight to Jakarta. We booked in to the Airport Sheraton and had an early night in preparation for a 6:15 am. flight to Pontianak.

Friday, November 19th.

Arriving in Pontianak at 7:30 a.m., we were met by Ronny Welong, Janice Dyck and Vabro (Ronny's son) who would be our interpreter during the week in Adong. This was the first time I had met Ronny. During my time in Indonesia in 1991, he and Rit had been in the USA visiting the main supporting church in Fresno. We went straight to STK, where we were introduced to Bill Dyck, Janice's husband and the Bustin family, Darrell, Laura-Lee and their children, Bronwyn and Caleb. Bill and Janice hail from the Winnipeg area and the Bustins were from Eastern Canada.

After settling in to our rooms, we joined the students and staff for the morning chapel service. We gave greetings and a short testimony. The balance of the day was spent relaxing and going for a short walk through the market.

Saturday was also a Pontianak sightseeing/shopping day both at several Malls as well as roadside vendors.

Sunday, November 21st.

One of many pleasant memories of our stay at STK was the pre-breakfast conversation time. Adjacent to the main hall was a small open vestibule and each morning we would begin the day discussing various topics stimulated by a mug or two of excellent coffee. A very refined and relaxing way to begin each day.

STK, is also home to one of many church congregations in the city and during this morning's service we again gave a short testimony translated by either Dave Bonney or Ronny (who is fluent in English). In the afternoon, there was a short commissioning service for the team. Dave Bonney and Dave Clark would stay in Pontianak while Dave Syer, Daniel and myself would spend the week in Adong. During their week at STK, Dave B would teach two courses with Dave C assisting. Both men would also preach during the daily Chapel services. They would then come up to Adong for Saturday and Sunday. Dave Clark had been asked by Ronny to preach the message during the Sunday morning church service.

Monday, November 22nd

I had first met Dennis and Janet Kirkley and their four daughters in 1991. After their return to North America, they made White Rock, British Columbia, their home. I had been able to maintain contact with them during business trips to Western Canada. On one of these occasions, earlier in 2004, I had mentioned that there were plans for a trip to Indonesia in November of that year. Dennis informed me that he and Janet were also making plans to visit their daughter's who were ministering in different parts of the world. The culmination of these plans was to be able to all be together in Pontianak. This came to fruition when all six of the Kirkleys arrived early this Monday morning. Unfortunately, we didn't have too much time to visit with them as we were preparing to leave for Adong around midday. But we would have more time to spend with them after returning from our week in Adong.

Adong is about a twenty minute drive beyond Ngabang so we were traveling the same route as the bus that had brought us to Pontianak 13 years earlier (except, of course, that we were traveling in the opposite direction). Some of the names of the towns were familiar; Sungaipinyuh (where the road turns east), Mandor (the Mass Graves), Pahauman (the Longhouse) and Ngabang. We reached the village of Tubang where we turned off the main road onto a narrow track which led us to the village of Adong. The training centre complex was to be built on a piece of property a short distance away from the village proper. We arrived to find one completed home, which would be our lodging for the week, and a second one that was just at the completion of framing stage. This building would be the one we would be helping to complete. There were also several lagoons that had been dug out which would eventually be used to stock fish. The completed home that would be our lodging was a duplex. We would occupy one half while the other half housed a married couple and their two boys.

Ronny, Dave and Daniel at our 'home' in Adong

It was almost dark by the time we reached Adong and supper was waiting for us. We met several people who we would be working alongside as well as the village pastor and his wife who also was a teacher at the elementary school in Adong. She also helped to prepare our meals during the week.

After supper, we bid farewell to the drivers who would be heading back to the city. We were effectively land-locked and Ronny then took the opportunity to inform us that we would be attending a house church every evening and each one of us would be expected to share our testimony at one of the meetings and, at another meeting, give a short devotional. After we had recovered from that shock we headed to our room, found our Bibles and started looking for a passage of two of Scripture that would form the basis for our message. Since I had some experience at teaching Sunday school and leading Bible Study groups, I offered to take the first one which would be on the Tuesday.

Our bedroom and make-shift study

Tuesday, November 23rd

Our first full day in the village gave us an opportunity to see the site and the project that we would be working on.

It is all too easy to fall into the trap of making comparisons between what one is used to and what is unfamiliar, with the unfamiliar always coming off second best. But it is important to understand why things are done in a certain way before making such comparisons. And when it comes to building homes, there are good reasons why they are not built the way homes in Canada are built. First of all, there is nowhere near the affluence that we enjoy in Canada. Second, since the climate is the same every day, hot and humid, there is no need for insulation, furnaces or air conditioning (although, the latter would certainly be a blessing). Third, in the village, we sensed that ownership is less rigid than what we are used to. People wandered in and out of each other's homes without restriction it seemed. Homes in Adong were not seen as strictly private possessions nor were they symbols of status.

The first thing we noted when we began the work was that there were no power tools. Everything was done by hand. But what we did see was skill and hard work. The Master builder was a gentleman named Ulai. Other men included our neighbour Damat, his brother and their dad. We also became immediately aware that safety equipment was conspicuous by its absence.

The bulk of the framing had already been completed. There was still a need for some additional cross-beams to be formed but the main task was to build a lath framework using 1/16th chicken wire and planks that would be the basis for building the walls.

The framing was built out of Ironwood. Being a very hard material, there is a bit of a learning curve to being able to hammer a nail into it. Be too heavy-handed with a hammer at first and all you will get for your efforts is to watch the nail cartwheeling past your head as it bounces off the wood. A level of finesse is required to break the surface of the wood before the heavy pounding.

The following video clip will briefly show some of the techniques used to construct this building:

Wednesday, November 24th.

We worked during the morning but were given the afternoon off. We used the opportunity to take a drive through Adong and out to the Palm Oil plantation. We returned, had supper and got ready to attend another house church.

This evening the meeting would take place at the home of the Tubang pastor and his wife. The meeting lasted about an hour at the end of which we were offered some refreshments; water, juice and two kinds of fruit that were in season - langsat and rambutan. I was sitting between Ronny and Vabro and while we were enjoying the food, Ronny directed my attention to a lady who was sitting in the doorway opposite us. He mentioned that this lady was originally from Bandang - the village in which we had spent a weekend during the 1991 trip. It was rather dark in the home making it difficult to see her clearly. Fortunately, she came over to offer us more food. Now that I could see her better, I was fairly confident that I recognised her as the young lady who had held the scissors for the ribbon-cutting at the church dedication. I requested Vabro to ask her if she was indeed that young lady. From the expression on her face as he asked the question, I knew right away that I had guessed correctly. I felt I had just found the proverbial needle in the haystack, so to speak.

I once heard the definition of a coincidence as that which happens when God doesn't mind who gets the credit. This to me was an astonishing turn of events. Before leaving Canada, I had prepared a ring binder containing photographs from the 1991 trip in the hope that it might be possible to return to Bandang during our time here. Were that to happen, I would have expected to meet a number of the villagers that I had met thirteen years earlier. But I had certainly not expected to find someone from that village living this close to Adong. I later found out that her name was Nurmiati and she and her husband Norman Omboh were, in fact, the pastor couple in Tubang and in whose home we were meeting this night.

Ronny, Dave and Daniel enjoying refreshments

at the Omboh's home in Tubang

Nurmiati (white blouse) during the Wednesday night

house church meeting in her home.

I had brought the binder of photos with me to Adong but I had no reason to bring it to this house church meeting. So I looked for an opportunity to meet again with the Ombohs to give them an chance to see the photos.

The schedule for this week included a Saturday afternoon visit to a high school in Sosok, a town east of Adong. Saturday morning would see the arrival from Pontianak of the two Daves and Dennis who were to spend the weekend with us. The journey to Sosok would take us through Tubang, so we agreed that, on our way back, we would call on the Ombohs and show the photos to Nurmiati and Norman. But I am getting ahead of myself.

Thursday, November 25th.

The couple who were our next-door neighbours were Pak Damad, his wife, Ibu Maria and their two boys, Donald and Joel. We had first met Donald and Joel plus a couple of other children the same evening of our arrival. As word spread that there were visitors who owned cameras, more and more children would come up to the centre once school was over for the day. Those cameras proved to be an irresistible attraction to the younger children and they were constantly 'demanding' they have their picture taken - "meester, meester, one, one, click click". If the camera was irresistible to the kids, the kids became irresistible to me. All in all, about a dozen or so would always be close by. I found them to be constantly full of joy and laughter. They were so well-behaved and unselfish. At one point I allowed several of them to use my video camera. I was concerned that it might cause conflict as everyone wanted to hold it. But as the camera was passed around from one child to another there was no squabbling or selfishness or reluctance to let the next child take a turn. Some of the more frequent visitors are shown in the following photo:

Norman Donald John Sarah Ijul

Joel Deborah Eva

Thursday was another work day. Each day there was generally a siesta time after our lunch. I had brought a New Testament with me and I wanted to read through 2nd Corinthians and I would read a chapter while the other men were taking their nap. This particular afternoon, I was sitting on a bench on the little veranda at the front of the house. Pak Damad came and sat down beside me and said in English "my daughter dead". I was stunned! For a moment, I didn't know how to react. He knew I couldn't speak Indonesian and I doubted that he knew much English. All that I could do was to run to my room where I had small English/Indonesian dictionary. I found the Indonesian word sedih, which means sad or tragic, and I pointed out that word to him. It bothered me greatly that I could not respond any other way (Vabro was sleeping at the time) but I believe that Damad wasn't really expecting very much from me because of my lack of Indonesian. I assumed that the loss of his daughter was fairly recent so I intended to meet with him later. It was obviously something that he wanted to talk about and I was hoping that there would be a suitable time when I could meet with Damad when someone was available to translate, be that Vabro or Dave Bonney. Much to my regret, our schedule was so full that I never had the opportunity to speak with Damad before our return to Pontianak.

We attended another house church in the evening and enjoyed more fellowship. By now, we were recognising not only the men with whom we were working but their wives and children. As much as it was possible, we were beginning to form friendships with several people including the pastor couple of the Adong church, Wimfried and Anneka Kossoh. As I have already mentioned, Anneka was also a teacher at the school in Adong and was helping Damad's wife Maria prepare our meals - a busy lady.

Pastor Wimfried (white shirt) and Anneka

to his right

Anneka (in spectacles)

[Do you recognise the lady in the green dress? I didn't!]

Friday, November 26th

This would be our final work day so we continued to pound nails, hack away at the bank, trowel on cement and drink gallons of juice. I was given part of the morning off as I wanted to go down to the school to photograph and video the children. The excitement was intense as long as the children were in a group; single them out and they suddenly became quiet and a little unsure who this stranger was and why he had this peculiar instrument in his hand. But once they see the results.............

I returned to home base for lunch, after which I began to head over to the job site with my video camera when, out of the blue, little Joel flashed past me, picked up the soccer ball and flashed past me again. He was covered from head to toe in mud. Curiosity trumped responsibility and I forgot about my obligation to the work crew. I followed Joel who I discovered was on his way back to one of the lagoons. This is what I witnessed.

The only aspect that the video camera could not capture was the rancid smell of the mud in the lagoon.

I am constantly amazed at the beautiful smooth facial skin almost every child possesses. The food in the village would not meet North American quality standards but it doesn't appear to effect the complexion. It is well known that mud baths are good for the skin. Perhaps an Adong-based entrepreneur might develop a business to compete against the up market mud bath Spas that exist in some parts of the US. 10% discount is offered if you bring your own close-pin.

After the children had washed off, I was pressured (willingly, I must add) into an extended photoshoot after which we held a review of the pictures. My little Fuji camera had a very small viewing screen but the children were still amused by what they saw of themselves.

At the final evening house church meeting of the week, I happened to notice that there was a TV in the corner. I had taken some video of the service as well as the refreshment time that followed. To get a little technical for a second or two, the TV broadcast system in Indonesia (PAL) is different from that of Canada (NTSC) and they are incompatible. However, I saw that this particular TV was a multi-system unit which, since I had brought the necessary cables, allowed me to play the footage that I had taken that evening. There was a lot of self-conscious laughter especially from the adults who were seeing themselves on "air" for the first time.

I have already mentioned the abundance of langsat and rambutan fruit. Bananas and coconut trees are also common and we enjoyed these delicacies almost daily. Another very popular fruit in Indonesia is the infamous Durian. It has the odour of well worn sneakers and a somewhat slimy texture; neither of these attributes being particularly attractive to the western palette but very popular with Indonesians.

Saturday, November 27th

Vabro suggested we take some time during the morning to drive into Ngabang and buy a few souvenirs. Being late November, the Christmas theme was prominent in many stores. Some were even playing Christmas songs and carols over the PA systems. Santa was a frequent subject for window displays with the reindeer and snow added for authenticity. I was surprised that in a Moslem country Christmas imagery would be so prominent especially considering that Ngabang could hardly be considered a town catering to western tourists. But the most difficult adjustment I had to make, despite the Santas, the Christmas trees and even the Nativity scenes, was trying to "feel Christmassy" when the temperature was a blistering 95F.

We returned to Adong to meet the two Daves and Dennis Kirkley who had come up from STK. We ate lunch then hopped in the cars that would take us to Sosok. There we toured the High School for well over an hour. I had reminded everyone that on the way back to Adong, we had planned to stop at Tubang to visit with the Ombohs and let them see the binder of Bandang photos (which this time I had remembered to bring along).

We met them in their church building which was situated across from their home. I handed the binder to the Ombohs and they appeared to be enjoying reminiscing over the photos. They had looked at several pages of pictures when, suddenly, Nurmiati looked up and said something to Dave Bonney. What I thought I heard her say was "ijah". I didn't know what this word meant but Dave told me it was the name of someone pictured in one of the photos. The photo that had caused Nurmiati to react was the one taken during the Bandang dedication service showing two young ladies seated together. Nurmiati was one of these young ladies; Ijah the other. There was nothing significant in Nurmiati recognising a friend from her home village until she added that Ijah was now living in Adong.

These two ladies had grown up together in a remote jungle village, accessible only by foot, two hours from the nearest road. Given such circumstances, it was remarkable enough that each, having re-located far from their home village, would end up living less than two kilometres apart. But the probability of three North Americans (Dave B, Dennis and myself) meeting these ladies again some thirteen years later is beyond calculating. God does indeed have a flair for the dramatic!

But we still had yet to meet Ijah, and we only had Sunday morning to do so.

Sunday, November 28th

We donned our Sunday best, batik shirts purchased during one of our shopping sprees, and headed for the church. Each member of the team gave greetings and Dave Clark had the privilege of presenting the morning message. Dave had the unenviable task of adjusting his thoughts to accommodate an interpreter (Vabro) but both did a remarkable job and Dave appeared to relish the occasion.

As I shared my parting words to the congregation I made an attempt, albeit halting, to conclude with a benediction in Indonesian. I had earlier asked Dave B. to write out the passage found in the Book of Numbers (6:24-26). He also helped me with the pronunciation and where to place the emphasis. Also in the clip is part of the song performed by the children. I hope it is as much a blessing to you as it was to me.

We finally made contact with Ijah, or rather, she made contact with us. Possibly word had already reached her that we were to attend the morning service or perhaps she had recognised Dave or Dennis. During the 1980s when both men were serving in West Kalimantan, they would have visited Bandang several times.

As guests, we were asked to form a 'receiving line' to shake the hand of everyone who had attended the service. You will hear a lady say to Dave B. "saya dari Bandang" - "I am from Bandang". We had little time to converse as we were on a tight schedule but I was able to take a couple of photos of her and two of her children before we were invited to lunch at the Pastor's home. As soon as lunch was concluded we were on our way back to Pontianak.

Below is the 1991 photo of the two ladies which I first posted in Part 1 along with a photo taken during the Thursday evening house church (with the rhetorical question in the caption).

Also attached is the photo taken following the Sunday service.

Yes, indeed, the lady in the green dress was Ijah but I hadn't recognised her since, on the Thursday that this photo was taken, I hadn't yet been made aware that she was living in Adong and consequently, would not have been specifically looking for her.

But, there was one more stop to make on our way back to Pontianak. In Part 1, I made mention of the friendship that had developed, via letter-writing, between myself and the then Pastor of the Bandang church, Pak Kalam. As a result of two debilitating strokes, he had been unable to write and I had not heard from him for over three years. However, I had been told that he and his wife, Melan, were living in Pahauman. Since we would be passing through Pahauman on our way back to STK, we took time out to visit them. This reunion was very important to me since it would be the first time Pak Kalam and I actually spoke with one another. The only interaction between us in 1991 was when we shook each other's hand upon our arriving at his home after our walk in from Pahauman. That was the extent of our relationship until I received that first of many letters. I would, of course, have preferred to have seen him in good health but, none-the-less, the important thing was that we met and further cemented our friendship.

Before returning to STK, we stopped at the Equator Monument as this was the first trip to Indonesia for both Dave Clark and Daniel. We finally arrived at STK where a lavish farewell party had been arranged. Many of the staff and wives were in attendance and we enjoyed food and fellowship, singing and prayers for our safe return to North America. Each of us received beautiful gifts, not only for ourselves but for our wives also. We were very spoiled.

Monday, November 29th.

I e-mailed home in the morning, primarily to wish my wife a 'Happy Birthday' (although it was still the 28th in Canada) and then completed the packing process in preparation for the mid-afternoon flight out of Pontianak. And so, my second time in Indonesia had come to an end. During the long flight back across the Pacific Ocean, I had time to reflect on the ten days we had been in Indonesia. Yes, we had helped in a construction project; yes, a couple of short theological courses had been taught and I don't dismiss those accomplishments as insignificant but it is the relationships built while completing those tasks that remain. What was significant for me was the miraculous 'coincidence' of being re-introduced to Nurmiati and Ijah which most likely would not have happened were it not for a casual comment by Ronny. Also significant was the three word conversation with Pak Damad that remained unfinished business. Of course, the reunion with Pak Kalam was so important. And then there were the free-spirited children of the village. These were, and still are, precious memories.

It is tradition that at the conclusion of occasions such as this, everyone gathers together for a group photo before bidding farewell to one another. And this we did! It is also tempting to finish a slide or video presentation with a sunset symbolising the end. But for me, I did not see this trip as an end but rather as a beginning, already prepared in my mind to return to Indonesia as and when the opportunity presented itself. So, I conclude this part of my story not with a sunset but rather with a sunrise -- also symbolic of a new day and of future days all of which the Lord will make and in which we will rejoice and be glad.

Hari ini, hari ini, harinya Tuhan, harinya Tuhan

Mari kita, mari kita, bersuka ria, bersuka ria

Part 2: A hard lesson learned

ALWAYS READ THE FINE PRINT! I learned that lesson the hard way. In 2000, another opportunity to visit Indonesia came about. Dave Bonney, Dave Syer (a parishioner of DB), Nathan Bonney, Dave's 17-year-old son and I, were to travel to Pontianak as members of a CBM sponsored short-term mission team. Part of our preparation included a meeting with Frank and Jayne Byrne (CBM Far-East Co-ordinators) for an orientation session. At the end of that meeting, Frank presented us with a package of additional information for us to review before our departure. The two Daves were scheduled to leave for Indonesia mid-March and Nathan and I would follow at the end of the month. And so, on the afternoon of March 28th, Nathan and I caught a flight out of Detroit Airport bound for Los Angeles. There we would board a China Air 747 for a midnight LAX to Jakarta departure.

We arrived in LA and waited for the China Airline counter to open. We eventually were able to check in and we were issued boarding passes. At 11:30 the boarding call was put out and we, and about 300 other passengers, began the boarding process. Our seat numbers placed us in the front section of the plane and we were the last group to be processed. The boarding passes were fed into the scanner - Nathan's passed through but mine didn't. The check-in clerk tried twice more to scan but to no avail. I was then asked to show my Passport. Suddenly, bedlam broke out. I was quickly surrounded by several highly agitated China Air staff all trying to make sure I did not get on the plane. At that moment I was at a complete loss as to why I wasn't being allowed to board. My check-in luggage was quickly located and returned to me. While all of this was going on, Nathan had started down the gangway but turned back when he realised I wasn't following. The staff were beckoning Nathan to get aboard as the plane was ready to taxi out. I was trying desperately to make myself understood to the staff that I still had Nathan's passport and return tickets in my carry-on bag. Tempers were becoming frayed all round but I was determined that I wouldn't be forced to leave the area until I had made sure that my young nephew had all the documents he needed to be able to enter Indonesia - and get home again.

Eventually, things began to calm down and I was directed back to the check-in counter where I would receive a voucher for a night's lodging at one of the local hotels. And - I finally received an explanation for not being permitted to board the plane.

The Indonesian government require that all passports be valid for a minimum of six months beyond the date of entry into the country. With the midnight departure and the loss of a day crossing the International Date Line, the flight would arrive in Jakarta on March 30th. Thus my passport needed to be valid until September 30th. It's expiry date, unfortunately, was September 10th. I had lost the opportunity of a second trip due to a 20 day discrepancy. I had missed seeing this vital piece of information in the review package that Frank had handed out.

I got to my hotel room around 1:30 am. and tried to think clearly what my options were. First of all I needed to inform my wife what had happened. She would then contact Dave's wife, Janet, who would then contact Dave in Pontianak. 1:30 am in Los Angeles is 4:30 a.m in Ontario and so I waited until it would be 6:00 am. in Ontario at which time wife would be starting her day. I was concerned a little that I might fall asleep and miss that 6:00 am window but with the adrenalin flowing to the extent that it was I had no trouble staying awake.

I made the phone call on time generating a flurry of activity including numerous phone calls to and from Pontianak between Dave and Janet. My main anxiety was for Nathan. He spoke no Indonesian and I wondered how he would cope once he arrived in Jakarta. Because this flight would arrive in Jakarta too late in the day to get a connecting flight to Pontianak that same day, we had previously booked a room at the Jakarta Airport Hotel and would catch the plane to Pontianak the following morning.

I spent most of the early morning hours in my hotel room praying that God would protect and guide Nathan. Those prayers were answered. Seated next to Nathan on the LA to Jakarta flight was an Indonesian man who spoke excellent English. This gentlemen also was very familiar with the Jakarta Airport and accompanied Nathan to the Hotel Lobby and made sure that the reservation had been confirmed. Meanwhile Dave B. had learned that a colleague from STK was in Jakarta who made arrangements to meet up with Nathan the following morning to ensure that he would make the connecting flight to Pontianak.

All this was occurring without my knowing any of it. All I knew was that a teenager was travelling half way around the world alone which made for a very anxious day for me. After checking out of my Hotel, I took a taxi to the British Consulate (I was travelling on a British Passport at that time) but they were unable to extend my passport validity. I also took a 50 minute bus ride along Wiltshire Ave to the Indonesian Embassy but I received no help there either. All that was left for me to do was to lick my emotional wounds and limp home very disappointed that I had missed the opportunity to return to Indonesia.

I arrived back in Ontario to find out that Nathan had been well looked after. I also began to question how this situation had arisen. Certainly, I was at fault since my passport was invalid as far as the Indonesian government was concerned, but the one question that screamed out was how had the boarding pass even been issued when the information embedded on the reader strip showed the invalid status of my passport. All four of us had submitted our pertinent passport information to CBM and onto China Airlines a month previously. Why I was not alerted at that time was confusing to say the least.

The next opportunity to visit Indonesia would not be until 2004.

Part 1: The beginning of a love affair

It was the summer of 1991. My brother-in-law, David Bonney, his wife Janet and their two sons, Nathan and James, were in Canada enjoying a second furlough after having spent two four-year terms serving the Lord in Indonesia under the auspices of the Canadian Baptist Ministries. Specifically, Dave was a teacher at the Seminari Theologia Kalimantan (STK) located in the city of Pontianak, West Kalimantan (a Province on the island formerly known as Borneo). This Seminary serves the Karepatan Gereja Baptis Indonesia (KGBI - Convention of Indonesian Baptist Churches), training young men and women for Christian ministry.

In the early 90s, the Indonesian government required foreign nationals to renew their visas every 10 years and for Dave and his family, the renewal time came due during this furlough and it was necessary for Dave to return to Indonesia to update their visas in order that they would be able to return to Indonesia and serve a third term. Not wishing to travel alone, Dave contacted me and asked if I would like to accompany him.

After checking the budget and obtaining the approval of my family, that being my wife Sharon (Janet Bonney's sister) and our two boys, Andrew and David (although at six and two years old respectively they had a somewhat limited input into the decision), I told Dave that I would be thrilled to travel with him and experience first hand what life in that far away land was like.

The little I knew of Indonesia had been mostly gleaned from Dave's letters, photos and presentations made at supporting churches during his furlough times. As a family, we had supported Dave and Janet financially and prayerfully but I confess, that it was the family connection, and not a deep theological conviction that prompted our support. Almost all churches that I had visited or attended displayed bulletin boards devoted to missions and, as I would read the profiles of missionaries already in the field or the job descriptions of vacancies needing to be filled, it became clear to me that I did not possess any of the qualifications that were prerequisites. I had no theological degree, I had no experience as a church planter, I had no medical training, I was not a qualified builder, I had no teaching credentials; in other words, whatever talents I might possess, they were not adequate to meet the demands of the foreign mission field. I would eventually come to realise just how ill informed and shortsighted my view was and as you read these remembrances, my hope is that you, first of all, find them interesting, even intriguing but more importantly, if what I have written captures your imagination, you would give some consideration to the possibility of breaking free from the routines of life and devote some of your time and money to pursue a short-term mission opportunity. You will never regret, nor forget, the experience.

I am not for a moment suggesting that I am an instant expert or that I have discovered some new and profound concept, for I have since spoken with many people, young and not so young, whose lives were enriched or even reprioritised as a result of their setting aside a small portion of their life to be involved in a works project of some kind in a foreign setting.

********************

I was born in Britain and grew up during the 1950s and 1960s. My family was one of modest means and during those formative years the thought of traveling even to France, a mere 22 miles across the English Channel, was as remote a possibility as a trip to Mars. My horizons broadened somewhat following my emigrating to Canada in 1970 and I enjoyed several cross continent vacations revealing a world beyond the confines of the British Isles. Those horizons were about to be broadened yet further as plans were formulated for what would be a most memorable three weeks.

As the days went by and the scheduled September departure drew closer, the excitement began to build. Dave would remind me on occasion that once we had arrived in Indonesia, I might succumb to (as he put it) 'sensory overload' - the notion that everything would be so different from what I was used to in Canada that it would be overwhelming at times. But what I also would become acutely aware of were the prejudices that I never realised I had and it was an education for me in the sense of having to reject and correct so many preconceived notions about what would generally be labelled a 'third-world' country - a term that I now consider to be derogatory and misleading.

As word of our trip began to filter through the extended family, our 17 year old nephew, Bryce Kraeker, asked if he might join us and, all plans having been finalised, on the evening of Wednesday, September 18, 1991, we three headed to Mississauga where we would spend the night at the home of longtime friends of Dave prior to catching an early flight at Pearson airport the following morning.

Myself, Dave Bonney and Bryce Kraeker about to leave for Mississauga

We were well aware that we were embarking on an adventure but we were not expecting that adventure to begin so dramatically outside a Mississauga high-rise on the morning of Thursday, September 19.

Dave's friends and our hosts for the Wednesday evening, were Jack and Joyce Hazzard. The Hazzards owned a compact Honda Civic which we all agreed was not well equipped to carry a driver, three other adults, six large suitcases and carry on luggage. So Jack had arranged to have another friend, who owned a larger vehicle, to be at the apartment forecourt at around 7:00 AM. We three were outside waiting for our ride which arrived a few minutes late. The driver pulled up and we started to haul the suitcases towards his vehicle but in his haste to help with our luggage, suddenly became aware that he had inadvertently locked the doors; the key still in the ignition; the engine running and no duplicate key! So, bring on Jack's Civic! Somehow we managed to shoe-horn everyone and everything into the Honda and roared off leaving a forlorn and beleaguered good Samaritan to the mercy of CAA availability.

Bryce, Dave, Jack and Joyce Hazzard and the Honda Civic

We arrived at Pearson Airport, bid farewell to Jack, checked in and waited for the boarding announcement. At about 9:30 AM we strolled down the gangway and onto a Korean Airlines 747 and were soon on our way to Vancouver. For the most part, the skies were clear as we flew across the prairies and caught glimpses of the first dusting of snow. We began to ponder that whatever weather conditions we might encounter in Indonesia, snow would not be one of them. The prairies eventually gave way to the foothills which gave way to the snowcapped Rockies and as we approached Vancouver the majestic summit of Mount Baker in Washington State rose above all other peaks. Spectacular!

The stopover at Vancouver was brief and we were soon winging our way towards Seoul, South Korea. With our flight being a morning take-off and heading in a westerly direction, we were travelling with the sun and, consequently, enjoyed daylight for the whole 16 hours we were in the air. There was very little to see as most of the flight was over the Pacific Ocean but the occasional oil-tanker would bring out the cameras and binoculars.

We arrived in Seoul, somewhat bleary-eyed, at around 5:00 pm local time and, having crossed the International Date-Line, it was now the evening of Friday the 20th, in Korea. We were whisked off to the Swiss Hotel where we would spend the night. The room, the extensive evening Buffet and breakfast the following morning was all courtesy of Korean Airlines.

Saturday September 21st.

Our plans were to spend a few days in Singapore then fly to Pontianak on Wednesday. Dave, with his many years of experience in the Far East, cautioned us that "a plan is not a plan until it happens"; an axiom that would later prove to be true. But for now things were nicely progressing according to plan (A, that is!).

Following breakfast, we were shuttled back to the Airport to catch a 10:30 am. flight to Singapore which included a brief stop-over in Bangkok, Thailand. We arrived in Singapore at 6:00 pm. local time. Normally, most airports are places one would rather not spend time in as they tend to be noisy, crowded and stress-inducing. Changi Airport, on the other hand was, on this occasion at least, a haven of peace. The decor resembled the lobby of a top of the line hotel and, apart from us, there appeared to be no-one else about. A superlative first impression of Singapore.

Dave had made reservations at the Garden Hotel on Balmoral Rd. We taxied to the hotel and after freshening up, went for a short walk. Singapore is an ultra-modern City-State. It is scrupulously clean (it is illegal to chew gum, as an example) and very orderly due in no small part to the consequences of breaking the law which can be severe by western standards. Punishment, some of it corporal, is a deterrent, it would seem!

                              

Changi Airport - Singapore

Sunday, September 22nd:

Following a good night's rest and a sustaining breakfast, we walked to Orchard Road, a major shopping area as well as being a centre for some very up-market hotels. It was to one of these hotels that we were heading. The Dynasty (now the Marriott) was 'home' to the Silver Cloud Worship service, a small gathering of Christians who met each Sunday morning on the top floor. We joined them for the service and we were invited to stay for the stand-up lunch that followed. A feature of this Hotel was the magnificent 2-storey tall, hand-carved wooden panels that graced three sides of the reception area. The carvings depicted various aspects of Singapore's history. Apparently, when the hotel was sold to the Marriott chain, the owner had the panels removed. One can only hope that these works of art were preserved and are on display somewhere in Singapore.

The Dynasty Hotel (foreground left)

Before leaving Canada, Dave had been informed by his colleagues in Pontianak that a large area of West Kalimantan, including the Pontianak area, had been shrouded in smoke for some time. After a rice crop is harvested, the farmers burn off the paddies in preparation for a fresh planting. Pontianak lies on the Equator and there is very little wind. Consequently, the smoke from thousands of square miles of burning rice fields simply hangs in the air. Normally, heavy rains clear away the smoke but the rains had not arrived when expected and the smoke had continued to accumulate for several weeks. What this meant for us was that Pontianak Airport was effectively shut down as it was only capable of accommodating visual flight arrivals and departures.

Each evening that we were in Singapore, Dave would contact Pontianak to update the situation. We three had agreed that if conditions had not changed for the better by Sunday evening, we would need to implement Plan B (remember?....a plan is not a plan... etc..). Having now reached that deadline, we needed to make a decision. We spent some time in prayer asking the Lord for wisdom and began to consider what our options were. Once again, we were thankful for Dave's knowledge as Bryce and I had no inkling how we would have got to Pontianak were we traveling on our own.

The option that seemed most feasible would require us to fly into Kuching, Malaysia and travel overland to Pontianak. Malaysia is a nation split geographically in two. One part lies at the base of the Thailand Peninsular with Singapore located off the very southern tip; the other half of Malaysia is on the northern part of Borneo. Kuching is located on the Borneo half of Malaysia. From Kuching we would bus to the Malaysia-Indonesia border and switch to a second bus which would transport us to Pontianak. This option, however, did present a snag. Pontianak Airport is a Port of Entry and thus visitor visas can be issued by Immigration to travelers as they enter the country. The border crossing at Entikong where we would be entering Indonesia is a Point of Entry and the border officials have no authority to issue visas. This was a key issue, of course, in whether Plan B would be successful.

Monday, September 23rd

After breakfast, we spent a short time in prayer before embarking on the necessary re-arrangements that we were compelled to make. The first order of business would be to taxi to the Indonesian Embassy in Singapore to obtain our visas. Next we would bus to the Garuda Airlines office (the national Airline of Indonesia - our original carrier for the flight into Pontianak) and obtain a refund of our tickets. Then head over to the Malaysian Airlines office and hope that we could get a Tuesday flight into Kuching and finally relax during what would be left of Monday. It looked good on paper but we were rather surprised to discover that the Indonesian Embassy does not issue visas 'while you wait' and we were required to surrender our Passports. This put our faith to the test and we left the building with some reservations. But we had asked the Lord for His help and we continued on with the rest of our 'to do' list with confidence. We had no difficulty obtaining a refund from Garuda and similarly had no difficulty booking a Tuesday afternoon flight to Kuching. Since this was all accomplished before the morning was over, we had a relaxing lunch and made plans to spend the rest of the day on Sentosa Island, one of Singapore's major tourist attractions.

We jumped aboard a Singapore subway system train and made our way down to the World Trade Centre where we boarded a cable car that would carry us high above the harbour and onto Sentosa Island. There is much to do and see on Sentosa and for me the most interesting, yet sobering time was at Fort Siloso. The multi media exhibits that were located throughout the Fort showed the brutality of war and man's inhumanity to man. In contrast, Underwater World was the antidote to the disturbing memories of Fort Siloso. Now, fairly common this method of viewing ocean life by being transported through a "tunnel" surrounded by a giant aquarium was something of a novelty in the early 90s. Our day on Sentosa ended with a grand display by the computer-controlled, floodlit. "Waltzing Waters".

Tuesday, September 24

The first order of business this Tuesday morning was to return to the Indonesian Embassy where, to our relief, the passports were ready with the required visas. This allowed us a relaxed day to do some last minute shopping for those things that may not be readily available in Pontianak. We then taxied to Changi airport, boarded a Malaysian Airlines 737 for a 1 hour and 10 minute flight to Kuching. Our accommodation for the night was the Hotel Borneo. After checking in, we went for an evening stroll, which included purchasing tickets for the bus ride to Entikong.

Wednesday, September 25

When we had checked into the hotel the previous evening, it was clear that the hotel was undergoing a facelift and the lobby was in the middle of extensive renovations with some disruption to a number of services. What we didn't realise until this Wednesday morning, was that the work appeared to have affected the availability of water for the shower. With the prospect of an 11 hour bus ride, with a full contingent of passengers and virtually no air conditioning, and with temperatures and humidity both hovering in the 90s, we had hoped to be able to freshen up before boarding the bus. Unfortunately, the shower had the power and volume of a leaky faucet, and so as we climbed into the taxi that would take us to the bus terminal, we were already beginning to perspire uncomfortably. Our perspiring took a quantum leap when, just after pulling away from the hotel, the taxi driver calmly informed us that he didn't know the location of the terminal. Fortunately, Dave's wisdom and previous experiences gained while living in this part of the world had prompted a sixth sense, leading him to obtain some basic directions from the hotel desk clerk. And so we were able to arrive in time to load up our luggage and board the bus.

As much as we would have preferred to have flown into Pontianak, the bus ride would at least allow us to enjoy the countryside, the villages and towns and, in some small way, begin to get a feel for the Indonesian people, our fellow passengers.

We arrived at the Entikong Gateway border crossing, where we vacated the Malaysian bus and gathered our luggage. Before joining the lineup at the customs inspection booth, Dave wanted to notify the Malaysian police that we were leaving the country. That formality taken care of, we joined the lineup at the inspection booth. Dave then realised that he had left his briefcase at the police office and went back to retrieve it. Bryce and I moved out of the inspection lineup expecting Dave to be back very shortly. However, Dave didn't return and as everyone else had been cleared, the customs official beckoned Bryce and me to the table to have our luggage inspected. At some point between Toronto and Singapore, one of my suitcases had developed a rip and it had been shrink-wrapped at Singapore airport. As I lifted this suitcase onto the inspection table, the customs official made a gesture that I understood to mean that he wanted me to open the suitcase. I began to frantically tear at the plastic wrap with little success. The official made the same gesture twice more and appeared to be getting a little frustrated with me. It suddenly occurred to me that he was merely indicating I was free to leave and to get to the bus as it was about to depart. Dave finally returned with his briefcase, passed through inspection and after making sure our luggage was secure on the bus roof, we climbed aboard and found our seats.

As soon as we were underway, Bryce and I wanted to know why it had taken so long for Dave to pick up his briefcase and come back to the inspection booth. Dave explained that he had remembered leaving the case by the entrance to the office but when he got back there, the case had been moved and was nestled behind a police officer's desk. It was clear who had moved the case. It was also clear that the officer had made no attempt to follow after us to return the case. What had been the officer's motive in moving the case? Was he anticipating that Dave would come back for it? or.............what? What Dave knew for sure was that he must not cause the officer to lose face regardless of how suspicious the circumstances appeared. Dave mustered all his cultural expertise to defuse what could have been a very tense discussion by commending and thanking the officer for protecting his property.

As I pondered this particular incident, and also considering the difficulty I had had in understanding the customs officer during the baggage inspection, I realised that through ignorance of both the language and the cultural imperatives that define Eastern societies, a foreigner could easily offend even where there is no intention to do so. I was relieved that neither Bryce nor I were directly involved in the briefcase incident as we could have found ourselves in serious difficulty were we to offend, in this particular case, an individual with influence and authority. But, as circumstances would have it, this would not be the only occasion at which Dave was called upon to mediate a satisfactory outcome in circumstances involving a difficult to persuade police officer....and, on that occasion, I was the focus of attention.

Bryce at the Indonesian Customs at Entikong

But for now, we were relieved to at last be in Indonesia and, despite the disruptions of the previous days, we would be arriving in Pontianak on the day that Dave had originally planned.

We were about 2/3 into the 11 hours that it would take to travel from Kuching to Pontianak and we were approaching the town of Ngabang and a scheduled stop for lunch. Indonesians are generally more slightly built than North Americans and the design and size of bus seats reflect that physical difference. Not wishing to crowd out the passenger with whom I was sharing a double seat, what remained for me to sit on was, in essence, a 3/4 seat with a metal edging that became rather uncomfortable as we journeyed along. Consequently, when we stopped for lunch my relief was twofold; satisfying hunger pangs and restoring circulation to certain parts of the anatomy.

We reached Pontianak during the early evening and the bus driver dropped us off directly outside STK, where we were met by Dave's colleague, Dennis Kirkley and a gentleman by the name of Kalam. After the welcomes and introductions, we were driven to Dave's home where we met Dennis' wife Janet, Larry and Marj Thompson and Hantje and Merry, who were house-sitting while the Bonneys were in Canada.

Our route from Kuching to Pontianak

Dave, Bryce and I spent a few minutes unpacking and examining our luggage since it had taken a bit of a beating through 12,000 miles of air travel and 11 hours on the top of two buses. We then sat down to enjoy a splendid meal prepared by Merry. A full stomach, a long bus ride and a comfortable chair to relax in began to take its toll on the eyelids and I found myself struggling to keep those eyelids open.

Merry, Dave, myself, Larry, Dennis, Marj, Janet, Hantje 

Thursday, September 26th

Following a restful sleep, we were confronted for the first time with the 'Bak Mandi'. Mandi is the Indonesian word for bathing; Bak is a bathtub-like enclosure in which water is stored. The chief difference between the Bak and the bath-tub is that you do not climb into the water, the water comes out to you, so to speak. This would be my first real practical 'culture shock' experience. Western bath rooms are designed specifically to prevent water from running all over the floor (tub enclosures, shower curtains etc.), whereas Indonesian bathrooms are designed for the very opposite. The mandi process involves filling a jug (similar to the orange one seen in the picture above) with water and pouring the water over oneself. After soaping up, the rinse off repeats the exercise. Despite having all this explained to me, the innate reluctance to slosh water about the place with abandon meant my first efforts were rather tentative. Mandi-ing several times a day, however, because of the climate certainly helps toward becoming comfortable with the routine.

On this, our first full day in Pontianak, we would attend the morning chapel at STK and offer greetings to the staff and students as well as share a brief testimony. Before that, however, we would drive the Thompson family to the canal where their speedboat was moored. The Thompson's ministry was in the town of Tayan, a 6-hour car ride from Pontianak but only a 3-hour trip by boat along the Kapuas River.

After bidding the Thompsons farewell, we headed to STK. For Bryce and I, this would be our first experience at speaking at length through an interpreter (Dave assuming that role). To do so requires concentration, brevity and concise thoughts. Another of those obstacles to overcome when in a foreign land.

Following our attendance at Chapel, we ventured out into the streets, and traffic, of Pontianak and I began to understand what Dave meant when he forewarned us that we might experience "sensory overload". The noise, the smells, the garbage, the general state of disrepair of just about everything including buildings, roads, sidewalks etc. and the sheer numbers of people, all was in sharp contrast to what we were accustomed to in Canada. But there was also a vibrancy to the city; an energy that caused us to see past the squalor and see a people who were resourceful and industrious. We spent some time meandering through the market that lay across the road from STK. Vast quantities of fruit, vegetables, eggs, meat and fish of all varieties were available; all of which would have been picked, dug up, caught and then set up in the early hours of the morning. No marketing boards here; no government hygiene standards; no nanny state protectionism, no Orwellian Big Brother dependence on government it seemed. Let the buyer beware!

Similarly, let the driver beware appeared to be the only rule that applied to the never-ending flow of traffic. Being so used to the regimented, regulated, legislated rules of the road in Canada, seeing what appeared to be a chaotic free-for-all was a fascination. There seemed to be no structure in how the people drove except for the one underlying, unwritten rule: that rule being what we in Canada would call "defensive driving". It was as if a sixth sense led each driver to expect the unexpected. If driver A cut-off driver B, driver B gives way. If driver C, on the wrong side of the road, is heading toward driver D, driver D moves over to let driver C pass. And it seems to work. Another astonishing sight (to this safety propagandised Canadian) was to see four and, occasionally, five family members shoe-horned onto a motorcycle, the engine likely no larger than 125cc. Dad would be at the helm with the oldest child straddling the gas tank. Mom occupying the passenger seat with one or even two smaller children perched on her lap. It was comforting to know that some degree of safety consciousness had indeed reached Indonesia as Dad would be wearing a helmet. Larry Thompson once remarked to me that city drivers 'tend' to drive on the left. Another observer compared Pontianak traffic to the flowing moves of a shoal of fish. Both observations were correct!

STK had a balcony that overlooked Jalan Gajah Mada which was a perfect vantage point to observe and video what for me became something of a 'spectator sport'. See if you agree!

Friday, September 27

We continued to enjoy the sights and sounds (and smells, although some of the latter not being quite so enjoyable) of Pontianak which today included walking across one of the bridges that span the Kapuas River. We found the river to be almost as busy as the city roads. There were many types of water craft using the river ranging from large ferries, house boats, speedboats and the ubiquitous sampan. The latter often filled almost to the point of sinking with various kinds of cargo. Sampans were often used as river taxis especially for transporting schoolchildren to and from their homes. And in Indonesia where there is a river there are homes lining the bank whether it be the half-mile wide Kapuas or a remote jungle river.

During the weeks of preparation prior to our leaving Canada, I had often considered what my reaction would be to the contrasts that clearly exist between living conditions in Pontianak and those in Canada. Would I find the lack of hygiene offensive? Would I be overly cautious regarding what I eat or drink? Would I not be cautious enough, and spend most of the holiday in the bathroom (and not just for the purposes of mandi-ing). Would I have the correct anti-malaria medication? And so on, and so on! After these first two days (and for the balance of our time in Indonesia), the only issue that was a constant frustration was my inability to understand and speak the language. It was an on-going annoyance to me that I could not say the simplest things without having to call upon someone to translate for me. It stifled spontaneity and was a real hindrance to developing relationships with the many wonderful Indonesian people we met. The sense of isolation that results from not understanding a language would, for me, reach its peak this particular evening. Two couples whom we had not yet met had been invited to join Hantje and Merry, the Kirkleys and we three, for a little get-together at Dave's home. The new folk were Hengky and Vera, and Muntu and Anna who also were staff members at STK. This was for Bryce and me, the first real occasion at which casual conversation flowed - all, of course in Indonesian. Occasionally, we would be drawn into the proceedings when one of the Indonesians wanted to ask a question about Canada. One of these occasions stands out.

Hengky and Dave were sitting across the room from me chatting to one another. Dave suddenly turned to me to say that Hengky wanted to ask me a question. In order to try to describe the dynamics that were part of this question and answer, I am going to be quite specific and detailed regarding not only what the question was, how it was asked and answered but also the body language (which unlike spoken language, seems to be universal) because it is pertinent to my trying to explain just what an impediment to relationship the language barrier is.

So, Dave has just informed me that I am to be asked a question. Hengky looks at me, speaks and, because I don't understand what is being asked, Hengky receives from me a completely blank expression (which makes me feel uncomfortable because it gives the appearance that I am ignoring Hengky). Dave takes over and tells me that Hengky wants to know how often we eat rice in Canada. Hmmm! My immediate thought was why didn't Hengky simply ask Dave (he being Canadian). But, never-the-less, it was me who was asked and so both Hengky and Dave now look to me for the answer. "Two or three times a month", I reply. That answer illicits from Hengky a look as equally blank as the one he received from me. Hengky then turns to face Dave as he begins to tell Hengky what my answer was. I notice Hengky's eyes begin to widen as he slowly turns back to face me with what I can only describe as a look of both disbelief, but at the same time, pity. I knew rice was important to Indonesians, but I didn't grasp at that time just how important. Indonesians will feel that they haven't eaten if rice is not included in the meal, regardless of how many other items of food may be served. I attributed the look of disbelief on Hengky's face to the fact that he knew how affluent Canadians are and, thus, ought to be able to have an abundance of rice at every meal-time. The look of pity, I felt, was Hengky's expression of concern for me that, despite that affluence, I should be so deprived of the very essence of life. As much as I was amused by Hengky's response to my answer, the whole process was cumbersome and awkward and I had wished that I could have been able to clarify further rather than just offering that abrupt six word answer.

Saturday, September 28

If Pontianak had been a cultural eye-opener, the coming weekend would be even more so. Dave had been invited to participate in a dedication ceremony of a new church building in one of the interior villages. The name of the village was Bandang. To reach Bandang required a 3 hour car ride to the town of Pahauman (a town we passed through on the bus from Entikong) followed by 2 hour walk into Bandang. Before setting out on the walk in, we had lunch at a roadside cafe in Pahauman.

Dave paying for lunch at the Pahauman cafe

After lunch, Dave, Bryce, Dennis Kirkley, Hengky and myself began the trek into Bandang. We saw first-hand evidence of the burn off that continued to pump smoke into the air.

                                 

The pastor of the church in Bandang was Kalam, who had met us off the bus on Wednesday past. Kalam had been a long-time mentor of Dave and it was a privilege for us to be guests at his home for the weekend. Dave had told me how much he had learned from Kalam, particularly regarding village culture. Kalam was a very reserved man and with a busy weekend schedule plus, of course, the language issue, I had little opportunity to really get to know him. However, about 3 months after we returned to Canada, I received a letter from Indonesia which I assumed was an update from the Indonesian child that I was sponsoring through World Vision. However, on closer inspection, I was humbled and thrilled to discover the letter was from Pak (Mr.) Kalam. I immediately re-mailed it to Dave for translation and from then until Pak Kalam became disabled as a result of a severe stroke in 2001, we corresponded regularly. But I am getting ahead of myself.

Having arrived in Bandang, we set up our bedding. Then, after the long hike in, we were eager to mandi. Having already mentioned the difficulty I experienced with regard to creating a virtual lake on the bathroom floor in Dave's home; there was no such difficulty in Bandang, primarily because no home possessed a bak. My difficulty was of an entirely different nature and it was one of several occasions over the weekend when my wimpy, western attitudes were put to the test. In Bandang, mandi-ing was conducted in a small pond about 100 metres or so from Pak Kalam's house and as it was dark by the time we went down to the pond, my fear had nothing to do with wet floors, rather it was more the possibility of the presence of some sinister, tropical creature lurking along the bottom.

Heading down for the evening mandi

The next test of my constitution following immediately after the mandi (which I survived) was the supper meal. While I wish to describe my feelings and impressions truthfully regarding the food in the village, I do so with a sense of shame. When I saw the meal laid out in bowls on the floor (nobody has tables or chairs), I was not looking forward to eating any of it, other than the rice. The pork looked to be about 20% meat and 80% gristle and the vegetables looked equally unappetizing. However, I was pleasantly surprised once I had overcome my prejudices and actually enjoyed the meal. I needed to be reminded (which Dave thankfully did) that a significant part of what little money they had would have been spent on this one meal especially prepared for us. I had to remind myself that I had come to Indonesia to experience Indonesian life not to have my western ways catered to.

Following the meal, we walked to the church where we were to be guests at the youth meeting. As guests, we were seated at the front of the church facing the young people who were sitting on the benches. Once again, my ignorance of the language made it difficult to appreciate what was being said or sung. I became distracted when I noticed a small kitten had wandered in carrying something in its mouth. The kitten released the "something" and I saw that it was an insect, about the size of a praying mantis. The unfortunate creature, in its attempts to get away from its captor, was playing into the hands, or rather paws, of the kitten which was enjoying a rather one-sided contest as it sparred with the mantis. It appeared as if I was the only one watching this drama being played out. This "cat and mantis" game continued for several minutes with the insect gradually succumbing to its assailant. But, without warning, the mantis, suddenly mustering up all its remaining strength, scurried rapidly across the floor heading towards a group of young boys sitting on the front bench. For a moment I thought I was watching synchronised gymnastics as every child on that front bench instantly, and in unison, drew their legs up and on to the bench as the mantis buzzed by with the kitten in hot pursuit. I would later find out that the insect was capable of inflicting a very painful bite. This explained the reaction of the children. What it didn't explain was why not a single person had thought of applying a well-placed shoe to a critter which was well-known by everyone present of being capable of inflicting such a harmful bite.

Dennis, Bryce, myself, Pak Hengky, Pak Kalam at the Youth evening

The young boys (before the kitten-mantis incident)

Among the older youth were two young ladies who were to become key people in my future visits to Indonesia, although at this time I had no reason to think that I would ever return to Indonesia. These two young ladies are identified by the white dots below their feet.

Sunday, September 29

I awoke around 5:00 am. and as no-one else was stirring, I decided to take a walk in the jungle that surrounded Pak Kalam's home. Armed with my video camera I was able to capture the sights and sounds of the early morning. This close to the Equator, dawn happens quickly and within twenty minutes total darkness had become light (the opposite happens in the evening - there is virtually no twilight) and when I returned to the house all the weekend visitors were ready to head off to the morning mandi.

 

This was a significant day in the life of the believers in Bandang. We were to witness a double celebration, important enough to have local dignitaries participate in the formalities. The opening ceremonies were scheduled to begin at 9:00 AM. A member of the military was present as was a local government official. We waited for a third invitee who never arrived and the proceedings finally began at around 10:00 AM. The celebration was twofold. Firstly, the new building was being dedicated. Secondly, the status of the Church was being raised from that of a "preaching point" to being an autonomous congregation with its own leadership board and Pak Kalam as the pastor.

Following the introductions, the military officer was invited to unveil the new sign and the government official was then asked to perform the ribbon cutting. Dave was offered the privilege of being first through the door. The guests and the congregation then took their seats and we settled in for the service that would last almost 3 hours.

The following pictures were taken before and during the service. Please take note of the two young ladies that I singled out in the picture of the youth group above.

The opening ceremonies

Unveiling the Sign

Ribbon-cutting (note the young lady holding the scissors)

The beautiful and well-behaved children

  The two young ladies

We enjoyed a hearty lunch at the home of one of the church elders. In addition to rice, there were dishes of pork, various vegetables and noodles. The military gentlemen was offered a dish containing a different meat than the rest of us. Dave told me that it was chicken. I asked why the gentleman was offered the chicken rather than pork and was told that he was a Muslim.

Indonesia is recognised as primarily a Muslim nation and I was astonished that a Muslim man would be invited and agree to participate in a Christian celebration. There seemed to me an irony in as much as were such a request to be made in Canada, despite the nation having formally adopted multiculturalism and the recognition and tolerance of all faiths and cultures, it would be considered preposterous if not downright offensive. Clearly, Political correctness had not infected this part of Indonesia to this point.

Lunch concluded, we were anxious to bid farewell to our hosts as we needed to get back to Pahauman, pick up the van that we had parked Saturday morning, and proceed to Tayan to reconnect with the Thompsons. But before heading back to Pahauman, Dave wanted to take us to a bridge that he had crossed many times. However, in Indonesia, personal status is determined by the circumstances at any given time. Up until this point during the weekend, Dave, Bryce and I had top status. However, the presence of the military gentlemen and a government official meant that we three were bumped to second place on the status ladder. Practically, this meant that we would have to wait for the two gentlemen to leave before we would be able to do so. To do otherwise would be culturally inappropriate. Eventually, though we were able to take our leave and make our way to the bridge. Getting to this bridge meant walking in the opposite direction to that which would take us back to Pahauman so there was a sense of urgency as it would now take us over two hours to get back to the van.

Monday, September 30

It was close to midnight when we arrived at the Thompsons home in Tayan and we went straight to bed. In the morning, we were introduced to Dennis and Judy Shierman who were colleagues of Larry and Marj. After breakfast, we walked down to the river to view the brand new Baptis boat. This boat had been built specifically to do river ministry along the Kapuas and Tayan rivers since there were few roads in this part of West Kalimantan. Later in the day we would enjoy an hour's ride on the Baptis, but first, we needed to notify the local police of our presence in Tayan. The office was across the river and we rented a sampan taxi to take us there.

We entered the office and Bryce, Larry and myself sat on a bench while Dave began to speak with the police officer. Upon our arrival in Pontianak, we were advised to leave our passports in a lock-box at STK for safe keeping. We were carrying photocopies of the pertinent pages which Dave handed to the officer. The officer appeared a little unsure of the legitimacy of the photocopies at first but eventually was convinced and handed them back to Dave. I was expecting at that point we would be free to leave. But, no - the officer and Dave continued to converse for several minutes. I had no idea what the two men were talking about but, due to the hushed tone of voice and the frequent nods and smiles, I assumed the officer was making casual conversation about why we were in Tayan or some such neutral topic. But suddenly, Larry leaned forward and putting his head into his hands, said, in a distinctly frustrated tone: "I don't believe this is happening!" My pulse rate rose an order of magnitude since it was clear from Larry's tone of voice that the nods and smiles were distinctly not an indication that all was going well. Larry then joined the conversation and the three men continued to talk for several more minutes. Finally the officer allowed us to leave and we quickly found a sampan taxi and headed back across the river.

It appeared that the officer had had no issues regarding the photocopied documents. What he did have a problem with, however, was that I had no permit for my video camera and he wanted to confiscate it. Apparently, at some point during the conversation the officer had made mention of the fact that he had the authority to put me in gaol - a consummation devoutly not to be wished, I would surmise. What eventually secured our release was that the officer knew of Larry and his reputation and good standing within the community and he and Dave were ultimately able to persuade the officer that I would not be using the camera for any subversive activities.

When I think back on this close call and the earlier border-crossing briefcase incident that Dave was involved in, it became very clear to me how easily a traveler could get into difficulty with the authorities in all innocence particularly in the more remote areas such as we were visiting. And I reminded myself that there is no convenient Canadian Consulate to call on in an emergency in such places as Bandang or Tayan.

Having escaped the clutches of the law, I became more cautious about using the video camera but I wasn't about to cease using it altogether. This being the 'trip of a lifetime', I wanted to "immortalise" as many of our unique experiences as possible. This day would add to our list of "firsts" and permit or no permit they were going on tape. The sampan crossing was one of those "firsts". Another would be the hour-long test run of the Baptis........

.....and towards evening we would spend two hours or so heading deep into the Borneo jungle via the Tayan River courtesy of Larry's speedboat.

Tuesday, October 1

We packed and prepared for our return to Pontianak. We three plus the six members of the Thompson family piled into the van and we began the drive back to the city. But there would be more interesting things to see and do along the way. We reached Pahauman around the noon hour and took time out to have lunch at the same roadside cafe that we had eaten at before our walk into Bandang. After lunch we took a detour to a village named Saham. A major feature of this village was the Longhouse. The Longhouse was, and to some degree still is, the traditional way of living for the indigenous Dayak people. This particular longhouse was over 180 years old and stretched for close to 200 metres. Although it was open for tourists to explore, it was not a replica or reconstruction but was a living community. Typically, the longhouse is built on stilts and to enter the structure requires climbing a ladder at the top of which is an uncovered platform running the whole length of the building. That leads to the covered section; the first part of which is a common corridor, also running the length of the building. The third section comprises the individual family apartments.

Our next stop was at the town of Mandor. Nearby are a number of mass graves containing the remains of over 21,000 Indonesians murdered during the Second World War. Incredibly, this atrocity only came to light in 1971. One man devoted his time to constructing a memorial which consists of a series of carved depictions of the torture and murder that took place. Once again, we were minded of the barbarism that occurred during the mid-1940s.

In complete contrast were the scenes along the road as we approached Pontianak. For a part of this stretch of road, a canal runs alongside and, this being late afternoon, there was much activity. Children were swimming in the canal, moms were bathing their infants, others were doing their laundry; ordinary people going about their daily routines and generally enjoying life. It remains one of my favourite memories.

Wednesday, October 2

My home in Canada is about a 15 minute car ride from Niagara Falls and living that close to something that for the rest of the world is an absolute "must see", the old adage that 'familiarity breeds contempt' tends to cause one to forget the attraction that it holds for visitors. During the seven days we had been in Indonesia we had driven by the Equator Monument eight times without stopping to take time to do the "tourist" thing of stepping from the northern hemisphere into the southern hemisphere (doing this in a vehicle does not carry the same significance). I have straddled the east-west divide at Greenwich in London, England as well as doing push-ups with each limb in a different US State at the "4 Corners" (i.e. Arizona, Utah, Colorado and New Mexico). So to complete this geographic trilogy we made a point of visiting the newly built enclosure that housed the original monument. A giant-sized replica topped the building.

The balance of our time in Indonesia included several social functions, one being the celebrating of Bryce's 18th birthday on the 4th (actual date was the 6th, but we would be in Singapore by then), another, the 10th anniversary of the Kirkley's ministry in Indonesia. We also took time out to spend an hour at Pasir Panjang (Long Beach) swimming in the South China Sea.

As the time for our departure drew near, there was still uncertainty over how we would leave Indonesia. The smoke had not cleared to any degree and we were confronted with several options. Originally, we were booked to depart Pontianak Airport by Garuda Air for Singapore around 4:00 pm. on Saturday 5th. We would spend the night at a Singapore YMCA, and fly out of Singapore at 11:30 Sunday night. However, if there were a likelihood that there would be no flights out of Pontianak, one option would be to take the bus back to Kuching (including the border crossing at Entikong), find accommodation for the night in Kuching. The following day would require us to locate the Garuda Airlines office to obtain a refund, get to the Malaysian Airlines office to book a flight to Singapore and hope to be able have all these re-arrangements concluded in time to allow us to arrive in Singapore and still make that Sunday night flight. This itinerary would require us to leave Pontianak a day early (on the Friday). Alternatively, if we chose to trust that our Saturday flight out of Pontianak would be on schedule and were wrong, we would still be obliged to do the Kuching-by-bus option. This, however, would guarantee our missing the Sunday flight out of Singapore. This dilemma was bad enough but it would be made further stress-inducing by the fact that, since Dave had other business to conduct in Pontianak, he had planned to remain in the city after Bryce and I had left. So all these undesirable options would have to be conducted without the help of Dave's expertise. Thus we were driven to option three - prayer. The Lord had answered our prayers getting us to Indonesia; He had protected us from, injury, malaria carrying mosquitoes and sickness ("village gut" as Dave referred to it), so were were confident that whatever way we would have to take to get home, He would see to it that we did so.

We finally plumped for staying to the original schedule and so, around 3:00 pm on Saturday 5th., we were heading to Pontianak Airport still not certain that we would be leaving that afternoon. When we arrived, we could see fires burning within 100 metres of the runway which were not helping the already poor visibility. We were standing outside the terminal building along with a number of other hopeful passengers. We then heard the sound of a plane approaching but for several seconds could not see the landing lights. Suddenly, there they were! But the plane seemed too high to be attempting a landing. We thought for a moment that the pilot may abort and head back to Singapore. But at that moment, and with no other explanation than God's having intervened, the smoke cleared sufficiently for the plane to touch down. We hurried into the terminal building, obtained our boarding passes, quickly boarded the plane and breathed an enormous sigh of relief as the plane roared down the runway on its way to Singapore. I believe that this flight was the only one that either landed or took off from Pontianak that day. The Lord was gracious!

Well, that almost concludes the journal of my first trip to Indonesia. At the time, as I have already alluded to, I expected it to be my one and only time there and gave no real thought toward ever returning. However, nine years later, the opportunity to return did present itself but an oversight on my part and a technological glitch conspired to have this 1991 trip remain a once-in-a-lifetime excursion (up to that point at least). More of that later!

Earlier I posted video clips of the city traffic from an observer's perspective. I want to close with another video sampling of the traffic but this time from a participant's perspective as it were. I want you to note, in particular, the final image of the family of four on the motor cycle. In some respect that picture sums up much of what I have come to love about Indonesia. First of all, the beautiful smiles of both mom and older son. Indonesians are a happy people. Secondly, the potential for serious injury to the whole family were that bike involved in an accident yet, at the same time, that carefree attitude seen in those broad smiles. Third, the liberty to live with that element of risk and the personal responsibility one has to assume - no Nanny state sponsored attempts to eliminate all risks from life (and the inherent dangers of such a false ideal).