Nearing the End...

My time in Jakarta is over; the evidence-gathering part of my project is complete; I’m working on a SWOT Analysis; I am feverishly writing and re-writing my report; I have time booked to present my findings to the entire VSO Indonesia team.  What all this means is that my second VSO assignment, and my time in Indonesia, is nearing its end.

 

Time to reflect back on this adventure, all the way from day one.

 

Cuso International (VSO’s Strategic Partner in Canada; my placement has been facilitated through them) has a wonderful woman with the exotic and beautiful name of Nefertiti in its employ.  Titi plays a dual role for me: one, as the Corporate Partnerships Advisor, engaging with me as the Randstad VSO Ambassador to promote and strengthen our partnership, and two, as my trusted friend and volunteer advisor.  I remember the day she very casually mentioned an upcoming assignment in Indonesia; she was not sure she even wanted to tell me, if it was even something I would consider.  I’ll never forget; she sprung it on me in the elevator on the way down after a meeting at my office in Toronto.  We had maybe 30 more seconds together before she had to be at another meeting.  Sly girl; obviously I took the bait.

 

I trust Titi’s instincts implicitly, so when I was contemplating coming back to Indonesia last summer, and she gently but earnestly told me that “no two placements are the same,” I took it to heart.  My first experience as a volunteer in Indonesia was so positive that I took on the role of VSO Ambassador at Randstad and have done my best to encourage others to embark on overseas volunteer placements to end world poverty (I was the first, and am now the sixth Randstad Canada VSO Volunteer).  I’m generally an optimistic person so I had hypothesized that my second placement and experience would be just as positive.  Different, but positive.

 

I was wrong.  And I was right.

 

VSO Indonesia has changed dramatically.  It’s still in the same office (for now; I learned yesterday that the villa VSO rents as its office is to be demolished and rebuilt; VSO has to be out by July); it still has some of the same staff (5 people that were with the organization in 2009 are still there); it’s still a development organization that believes volunteering and skill-sharing is the most powerful tool to make a meaningful and sustainable impact on development at the community level.  That is where the similarities stop.  Everything else is different:  the strategy, the programs, the areas of the country in which it works, the profile of the organization (11 volunteers including me versus over 40 when I was here in 2009), and generally, just the vibe in the office.

 

The goal of my project was to research current Corporate Social Responsibility practices among the multinational companies located in Jakarta, with a special emphasis on Employee Volunteering (EV), and make recommendations to VSO in order to fine-tune its corporate engagement strategy.  My experience with EV is unique because I am both a Volunteer and I manage Randstad Canada’s EV program with VSO.  I can speak for both sides.  Randstad’s partnership with VSO is world-class.  Replicating it - long-term, community-based, participative volunteering - was my understanding of what VSO wanted to achieve with its corporate engagement strategy.  Alas, no.  In Indonesia, that is Pie in the Sky thinking!

 

Most EV programs in Indonesia are glorified photo-ops:  tree planting, painting schools, donating books to orphanages.  Don’t misunderstand; there is nothing wrong with those things, but the impact is limited at best.  I attended a CSR Conference in Jakarta last week, and one of the speakers said something very powerful.  The headmistress of a school in Yogyakarta, site of a devastating earthquake in 2006, was the recipient of many typical volunteer initiatives from local companies: renovation of classrooms, painting, book drives.  So many local companies wanted to help that they were falling over each other.  When asked about the real impact of the efforts paid to her school, she said, “the only impact is that I no longer know from one week to the next what colour the school is going to be.”  Imagine if the companies that put all this effort and expense into her school had simply asked her or her students what they actually needed, they may have been able to really make a meaningful difference in the lives of those children.

 

There was no way that any EV program in Jakarta was going to be like Randstad’s.  It was all a joke; no impact, no results, no measurement.  I have been reading over my meeting notes and can actually see the sarcastic tone of my writing!  I had become jaded.  I didn’t feel very good about EV in Indonesia, or about VSO’s strategy.  I no longer recognized VSO.  I was deeply saddened.  So I told the Country Director, Mike, about how I was feeling – and he agreed.

 

I didn’t expect him to agree.

 

Interestingly, what happened is that I got over myself – Mike’s validation of what I was feeling gave me permission to recognize that no, there wasn’t likely to be a Randstad-calibre partnership – but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t still potential to encourage incremental improvement in the EV programs that exist, and to encourage creation of programs where there are none.  I had forgotten rule number one of volunteering for community development – manage your expectations.

 

VSO’s proposed Corporate Engagement strategy (which is only a small part of its overall strategy) will be to act as the authority on volunteering for development in Indonesia – it does, after all, draw on over 45 years of volunteer management experience in Indonesia.  VSO will consult with companies to review their EV programs, and provide training on volunteer program management, partner selection, community advocacy, and monitoring and evaluation.  VSO will speak “corporate” lingo - encouraging companies to ensure EV programs are aligned with business goals, no longer a nuisance or an expense, but a strategic component of overall business strategy.  Through all this, VSO can not only secure additional funding for its development projects, but can encourage companies in Indonesia to really make small and incremental, but meaningful and impactful, changes to the way they think about, and contribute to, development. Which sounds like a win-win-win strategy to me.

 

Titi was right, and amazingly, I had to learn the toughest lesson about volunteering all over again.  A three-month VSO assignment is way too short to change the world.  But it’s enough time to encourage people to think about change, one tiny piece at a time.  And that’s what it’s all about.

Greasing the Palm of Justice

Today I bribed a Police Officer.  I figured the day would come eventually.

I’m back in Bali after about 7 weeks in Jakarta.  In case you’re wondering, no, I don’t miss Jakarta one bit.  One huge reason is that the VSO Office in Bali works 9 hours per day Monday through Thursday so the staff can take every Friday afternoon off.  I stayed at the office a little later today in order to finish up some thoughts for my report on Indonesian CSR.

I also decided that today would be the day I ran a small errand for a friend back home who had asked me to pick up something for him in Bali to add to a collection he’s building.  I Googled the address, debated with myself for a good half an hour on whether I could actually find the store, and set off on my motorcycle to find it.

According to Google Maps, this location is about 9 km from my kos (yes the exact same room, and many of the same roommates, I had when I first came to Bali in January – I’ve come full circle).  The route was relatively simple – just get on the bypass road, go to the roundabout near the airport, get turned around, and bob’s your uncle.  For the record, I think Google Maps should end every single direction instruction with “Bob’s Your Uncle.”  Admit it: you would use it even more than you already do.

Traffic in Bali is nothing like traffic in Jakarta but you still don’t want to be in it during rush hour, so I got going at around 2:30pm, which, by my estimation, is exactly the point when the sun reaches thermonuclear degrees Celsius.  Just so you know, despite the plethora of Aussie tourists who think they own the place and wear tank tops literally all the time, I’ve learned from watching the Indonesians (and from common sense) that one should always wear a jacket or at least long sleeves on one’s motorcycle.  The sun – and other drivers – are deadly, so even a little extra protection is helpful.   I was therefore sweltering, and soaked to the bone with sweat in about 7 nanoseconds.

Signage is sub-par, to say the least, in Bali, as are directions in general.  I got more and more worried / intimidated that I missed what I was looking for.  I came to the roundabout and – lucky me – it was a giant chaotic mess of construction.  I had written a note to myself on the printed directions that “if you pass the BIMC, you’ve gone too far.”  All VSO Indonesia volunteers, especially my good friend Suzanne Hardy, know the BIMC; it’s the hospital to which VSO volunteers are sent in the event they need medical care.  Well I was way past the BIMC and still no sign of this stupid store!

I made a fateful decision – I was going to make a u-turn and go back in the other direction.  You should know that u-turns are very common here – you pretty much have to do them in order to get where you’re going as the main roads are all divided for kilometres at a time.  I made the turn and headed back in the direction from which I’d come.  I was no longer staring directly into the sun so I could better look for the place.  I felt like things were looking up!

And that was when a police officer on a motorcycle pulled head of me and motioned that he wanted me to pull over.  I think my u-turn was actually illegal.  Oops.

Well it turns out that no, the u-turn itself wasn’t illegal, but in my confusion and delirium from overheating in my jacket and being blinded by sun and sweat, I had (like an 80-year old woman) left my signal on from a previous turn – and it was blinking in the wrong direction.  So this cop pulled me over because I had signalled left and turned right.  Damn I felt stupid!

Then he asked to see my driver’s license, and I produced it (See?  I learned my lesson after my encounter with the police last time I was in Indonesia – don’t drive without your license!  If you’re interested, the whole story is here:  www.solodiaries.blogspot.com). Unfortunately what I never realized is that my international driver’s licence is stamped for cars only, not motorcycles.  Curses!

The cop told me that the fine was 500,000 rupiah, but if I wanted to pay it right there instead of going to court, it would only be 200,000.  He looked around cautiously, saw that there were 2 random dudes standing around, hanging out by the side of the road (VSO Volunteers – aren’t there always at least a few random dudes handing around on the side of the road, day or night, no matter where you are?) and motioned for me to follow him.  He drove about 100 meters down the road to the beginning of a little overpass over a canal – no random dudes there.  I asked him to show me on his ticket book where it said the fine was 200,000, and he looked at me and said, “You want to go to court?”

I said “of course not, but this was just a little mistake, signalling in the wrong direction.”

We sized each other up for a few seconds.  I said, “how about 100,000?”

He said, “150,000.”

“Deal.”

“Put your money here.”  He handed me his ticket book and instructed me to put the money inside and hand it back to him, all covert-like.  The money went in, ‘terima kasihs’ were exchanged, and, Bob’s your uncle, we were off on our separate ways.

I feel violated, angry, and a little foolish, but he sure had me on the driver’s license.  It could have been ugly – I’ve heard stories about having to spend hours in a police station paying a fine and obtaining a Balinese license.  No thank you.  Oh and no thank you to the errand that started this whole adventure; I’ll try again from the comfort of an air-conditioned taxi.

Now I sit, back at the Sanur Beach Café, looking out the ocean, drinking an ice cold, and sorely needed, Bintang beer (my first sip of alcohol since I was last in Bali) and it’s all behind me now.

After all, if there is one thing I learned in Jakarta, it’s that I should just accept it.

the Return of "Little Things"

Anyone who read my last blog at Solo Diaries, might remember my series of posts entitled “Little Things,” in which I tried to describe random observations that didn’t warrant posts of their own.  Here is my first attempt at a Little Things post for my DaninIndonesia blog.

The Indonesian Squat:

 

I don’t know if this is uniquely an Indonesian position, but I see it all the time.  (Unfortunately trying to snap a picture of an Indonesian in full squat-mode without getting caught is a little challenging so I can’t adequately demonstrate it here).  Indonesian men (I’ve only seen men & children do this, never women) will just drop down into full squat, feet flat, their buttocks mere centimetres from the ground, to hang out.  I primarily see this among what I would call labourers at worksites.  I strongly encourage you to try it – go ahead, I’ll wait…  Not that easy nor comfortable, is it?  Indonesians must practice this from a young age, in order to develop the right strength I their joints.  They stay like this for a long time.  Knowing what I know about ants (please see the aforementioned Solo Diaries blog) I don’t blame them one bit for minimizing body contact with the ground.  Also, I’m just going to say it, this is a position one must learn to use in the absence of a western toilet…

 

Wetness:

 

To live in Indonesia is to embrace a restroom that is never (ever) dry.  Indonesians don’t use toilet paper; instead they wash themselves either with a hose & spray attachment found next to most toilets, or in the absence of the hose, with a plastic ladle-like contraption coupled with a ‘bak mandi,’ a large cistern of water.  The floors are always wet; the toilet seats are always wet.  The walls are often wet.  As a result, most restrooms have mats at their entrances so people can wipe their feet – on the way out.  I try my very best not to think about the life forms that inevitably exist on these mats.  While on the subject of restrooms, I have made a startling observation:  At a urinal, there is an extra little spout at the top where one additional stream of water jets out.  I have recently discovered what this is for.  Indonesian men will wash themselves while standing at the urinal, splashing this extra stream of water on themselves.  I don’t know how they dry off afterwards, or if they dry off.  Frankly, I don’t want to know, thank you very much.  It also explains the urinal ‘splashguards’ I’ve seen in several locations – think of a sneeze guard at a salad bar, but picture it in the front of a urinal; it goes about halfway up, and at the top has a cutaway in the centre where one might put one’s…

 

Gotta Get Mine:

 

Having grown up in Canada, the land of “after you; no, I insist, after you,” I must admit that Indonesia can be a little bit culturally challenging.  Indonesians have no regard for what others may want.  Please don’t misunderstand – they are gracious hosts, generous in spirit and action, but they also don’t think to consider someone else’s needs.  One small example:  I work out at a local hotel gym.  This gym is poorly equipped and has literally one workout bench.  This workout bench is always, and I mean always, occupied by someone who is just sitting around watching their friend workout, or staring into a BlackBerry.  It never occurs to any of these people that someone might want to use it to actually work out.  I’m no longer shy about kicking someone off of it, and to the credit of the bench usurpers, they always graciously give it up with a sweeping hand gesture and a “silahkan” which means “please” in the offering sense.  The change room at this gym is much worse, with random guys hanging out in a very small locker area, blocking access to the door, lockers, and shower.  They make absolutely no effort to get out of one’s way as one tries to squeeze through.  I almost have to shove.

 

(And incidentally, female staff members regularly come and go from this change room; I think it’s the only way for them to access their staff room.  As I am the only person to ever actually get fully changed, i.e. naked, in this room – Indonesian/Muslim modesty?  Cultural norms around nudity? – it’s a miracle none of them have walked through at precisely the most embarrassing moment).

 

The gym is also a social hub of sorts.  Gaggles of girls will gather, especially around the treadmills, and talk, yell and giggle at typical Indonesian ear-splitting volumes for hours, without actually using the treadmills.  However, for me the treadmills are officially useless during these times as I value my hearing, and invariably when I interact with these girls in any way, even just to ask if I can use the treadmill, the result is a dramatic increase in giggling intensity and volume.

 

It has been explained to me that Indonesians are not selfish, nor are they inconsiderate; they just look at the world in a non-individualistic way, which means that, they would never think to put someone else’s needs or wants first, particularly a stranger, as they would never expect that stranger to put their needs or wants first.

 

Special Orders:

 

I once attempted to order a nasi goreng with extra acar (pickled veggies they usually give you in a little baggie on the side).  Seems simple enough, right?  Well this special request (remember nrimo – don’t question, don’t challenge, just accept it) caused such confusion either with the person who took my order, or in the kitchen, that it was simply ignored, I believe because they just wanted it to go away.  My colleague Naidi got his order no problem because he didn’t ask them to change anything, whereas we needed to explain and cajole repeatedly to get my order, which, the entire time was going to be out ‘sebentar’ (shortly).  Naidi was long finished his entire meal before we found out that mine was never cooked, and we needed to start over – this time with no special instructions, obviously!  Lesson learned; I have never again asked for anything.  I only point at menu items now, with a warm, non-threatening smile, and hope for the best.

 

Non-verbal, semi-non-confrontational communication:

 

I observed this during the height of the rainy season.  This picture was taken in the middle of a street.  On either side of this puddle with a pile of rocks in it, are street vendors, selling either food, cigarettes, gasoline, or yes, the ever common “tire inflation service.”  I imagine they must get pretty tired of continually being splashed by cars and motorcycles driving through this pothole when it’s full of water (and it’s almost always full of water).  They have placed large rocks in the pothole, in my opinion, not so much as a ‘watch out’ warning, but more of a ‘drive on this thing and cause damage to yourself and your vehicle’ warning.  I’ve seen numerous potholes filled in with debris, but an effort is usually made to keep it as smooth or as close to the height of the road around it as possible.  This one is jagged, haphazard, and kind of nasty.

 

And finally, Safety:

 

No comment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just Accept It

Keeping this blog up has been much more challenging than I anticipated.  On my first trip to Indonesia I wrote so many entries that I still have 5 or 6 that I never published.  The blog proved to be very therapeutic; it gave me an outlet for what I was thinking at any given time, and allowed me to share my experiences, positive & negative.  I had assumed it would be the same this time around, but so far, I’ve had a really hard time committing myself to keep it up.

 

Even now, as I type these words, they feel forced.  I’m writing now out of a sense of guilt.  I wonder why that is.

 

Jakarta has failed to inspire me, that’s for sure.  The city is large, hectic, polluted, congested, and confusing.  There isn’t much else to write about Jakarta that can’t be summarized in a Facebook update or two, which I think I’ve done.  I just finished looking through my camera roll on my iPhone, hoping a picture that I took in the past few weeks would inspire a blog post, but nothing really jumped out at me.  What I will try to do, then, is try to think about my experience thus far in Jakarta and tell you a little bit about it.

 

In Indonesia, the dominant culture is Javanese.  The island of Java, roughly the same size as Vancouver Island, has approximately 120 million people, half the population of the entire country.  The Javanese dominate business, government, and influence.  It is said that a non-Javanese will never be president (which is interesting, in that Indonesia may have never had a non-Javanese president, but it did briefly have a woman president).

 

Part of my work here is to engage with the people in Indonesian companies that are responsible for Corporate Social Responsibility.  VSO is trying to unlock the potential of the Indonesian people with a spirit of volunteerism and what it calls “Active Citizenship.”  This is not a huge leap for Indonesians, and Javanese in particular, the majority of which are Muslim, because giving and philanthropy are central themes in Islam.  Giving back is culturally-ingrained, so to speak.  As a result, my work, and the promotion of active citizenship should be easy.  However, the ‘system’ in Indonesia, to my frustration, seems to exist solely to maintain the ‘system.’  Why change anything?  Why question anything?  Why strive?  Why challenge?  People within the system expel great amounts of energy to maintain it, regardless of whether it truly works.  I didn’t (and still don’t) get it.

 

My colleague Naidi, who was hired by VSO in a business development / marketing capacity, and started a few days before me, finally shed some light on it for me when I expressed my frustration with encouraging people to think differently and creatively.

 

There is a concept in Javanese culture called “nrimo.”  Naidi explained to me, that loosely translated, nrimo means “just accept it.”  There is no point in questioning why something is, or whether there is a better way, because one should “just accept it.”  There is no reason to change the system, or look for efficiency, because one should “just accept it.”  Anyone who knows me will understand that this makes absolutely no sense to me, as someone who challenges nearly everything just to be the Devil’s Advocate.  I find myself biting my tongue quite a bit!

 

Another result of this is that it’s leaving me feeling a little bit jaded about my work, as most companies here view CSR as a chore, something that is imposed on them.  Indeed, there is a law that companies must spend a particular percentage of their revenue on CSR activities.  It’s usually superficial at best, normally no more than a photo-op, or an opportunity for a long, drawn-out, painfully boring ceremony.  Having said that there are some very interesting and meaningful schemes that I’ve researched, which can potentially have real impact on peoples’ lives.  Too bad they are in the minority.

 

I have just over a week left in Jakarta, and then I return to Bali to finalize and present my findings to VSO.  I have been in Jakarta for about 6 weeks, not yet long enough for me to feel my own nrimo.  I refuse to just accept it.

Jakarta, Part One

I arrived safely in Jakarta on Monday.  The city is massive, confusing, loud.  I openly admit I wasn’t looking forward to leaving Bali.  But I knew I would have to in order to conduct my research with the Corporate Sector – almost all of it is located in Jakarta.  So here I am.

 



In this example, "across the street" is actually across a canal as well

And so far so good.  Many people (almost everyone in fact) in Bali would give me the “too bad” look when I told them I was shortly to be leaving for Jakarta.  I had allowed that to cloud my judgment to an extent.  I was also intimidated because I was told it would not be a good idea to have a motorcycle here – it’s that much crazier than Denpasar (and WAY crazier than Solo) so it just wouldn’t be safe.  It’s hard to put into words the sense of freedom one loses when no longer having reliable access to transportation.  Yes Jakarta has public transit, but honestly, who knows where I would end up with my limited Bahasa and general ignorance of this giant metropolis?  I also distinctly remember, from my previous journey to Jakarta – (for finger-printing, via an 8-hour train ride from Solo in April 2009, under the cloud of the worst illness I have ever experienced, most likely from food poisoning) – witnessing hundreds of people riding on the elevated train.  Notice I said “ON” the train, not “IN” the train.  Yes there were hundreds of people, 20 metres above the street, riding on top of the train.  So with that I bid a fair No Thank You to the Trans-Jakarta public transit system!

 

My official plan is to get comfortable with the general vicinity in which I live and work (I still do not have permanent accommodation – that’s the plan for this afternoon) and gradually find a few places that I enjoy and can get to without too much hassle.  The plan has gone to pot so far, as yes, I got lost on my way home from work yesterday.  The streets all look the same, they are poorly signed (if at all) and nothing makes sense to me.  I found myself asking random strangers how to find my home (luckily I remembered what it’s called and also the name of the street it’s on – or I would still be wandering the streets – “Hey why is that sweaty Bule crying?”).  Remember from posts in my previous blog here: www.solodiaries.blogspot.com, the rule in Indonesia is that you must ask as many people as possible for directions because for them to say “I don’t know” is culturally unacceptable; as a result they will completely lie to your face.  It’s not a bad thing; it’s just is the way it is.  Only once you have several people telling you generally the same thing can you have even an ounce of trust in the information.  I did eventually find my way home, soaked to the bone with sweat of course – the humidity makes it feel close to 40 degrees Celsius all the time.

 

Is this a construction site destroyed by recent flooding?

Jakarta itself is home to about 11 million people, but with its larger suburban area included, it actually becomes the 2^nd largest urban population in the world (after Tokyo, Japan).  In typical Indonesian fashion, which eschews simple ‘first letter’ acronyms for elaborate created words, this larger urban area is called “Jabodetabek” – which is created using the names of the regions surrounding the city:  Jakarta, Bogor, Depok, Tangerang, & Bekasi.  The urban area spreads far beyond these regions and the population of Jabodetabek is estimated to be approaching 30 million people!

 

The city is extremely spread out – the central business district (or “CBD”) where I will spend most of my time, is massive; and Jakarta is not pedestrian-friendly by any stretch.  Every building is completely separate from the street on which it’s situated.  It’s actually difficult to describe, but I’ll try:  If I was at building A on Java Street and wanted to go to building B on the other side of Java Street, I would have wait at the main entrance of the building, use the building concierge or security detail to hail a taxi, navigate a series of traffic medians, one-way streets, strange traffic lights, and intense heat, and then go through an intense security screening just to get to the main entrance of the building across the ‘street.’  I’ve heard that due to Jakarta’s famous gridlock, this simple journey of a few hundred metres can often take an hour or longer.  Honestly I don’t know who dreamed up the CBD in Jakarta, but it seems it was almost intentionally designed to be difficult, or to keep the people ‘out’ if that makes any sense.

 

Jakarta is also a city with a tumultuous history.  The threat of terrorism and violence is everywhere, so every building has an elaborate security system in place – all vehicles are subject to having their trunk inspected by one security guard, while another uses a mirror to look underneath before they even get near to the entrance of the building.  Then one must pass through a metal detector and give government-issued, non-expired ID to the people at the desk in order to be granted access to the building (luckily my Ontario Driver’s Licence was acceptable as I don’t carry my passport around with me at all times).  All this in an effort to prevent a bombing.  Indeed when I was in Indonesia in 2009, the Ritz-Carlton Hotel here in Jakarta was bombed by a group of hard-line Islamic terrorists.  Luckily, no one was killed, and that was also the last bombing in Jakarta, to my knowledge.  I don’t feel (much) danger today, as the government has cracked down relentlessly on domestic terror groups (a raid recently occurred in my old Solo stomping grounds) and Indonesia seems to have achieved an uneasy peace with itself.

 

And on that note, I will break here, and continue my Jakarta adventure in the next post….

Why am I here?

People are probably wondering exactly what it is I’m supposed to be doing in Indonesia.  This will be my attempt to explain it as best I can.

 

First thing first - Why does VSO even operate here?

 

Indonesia is the largest economy in Southeast Asia, a ‘middle income’ country, with rapid economic growth; a young, educated population (240 million, the 4^th most populous nation on Earth); vast natural resource wealth, and a relatively stable government.  Things seem to be trending in the right direction, bottom line.

 

Official stats peg the percentage of the population as “officially” poor at 18.6%.  It’s important to mention that percentage translates to roughly 45 million people, or ~10 million more than the population of Canada.  However, “official” poverty is defined as those living on less than $1.25 / day.  Have you ever tried living on $1.25 / day?  It’s not easy.  However these numbers are only part of the puzzle, and mask a most unsettling reality in Indonesia.  The percentage of the population that is “officially” near-poor is 46.2% (or 112 million people).  Near-poor is defined as living on less than $2 / day.  In reality that means that 68% Indonesian population (165 million people!) lives on less than $2 / day and a significant chunk of those that are not officially poor or near-poor are hovering millimetres above these lines, dangerously susceptible to external shocks like natural disaster, economic shocks, and climate change.  Additionally, the top 5% of the Indonesian population controls 20% of the wealth, concentrated largely in Jakarta.

 

VSO Indonesia used to operate in 4 program areas:  Health, Disability, Livelihoods, and Education.  Because of the notoriously fickle Indonesian government, VSO was forced to shut down many programs in many areas of the country.  Now it operates predominantly in NTT (East Nusa Tunggara) and South Sulawesi provinces, and mainly in Livelihoods.  VSO globally has launched a Climate Change program area and that relates extremely well to Indonesia as subsistence farmers and marginalized populations are particularly susceptible to potential damage from climate change.

 

So VSO launched a strategic review of its programs and has come up with a new country strategy.  It will have 2 premier programs in addition to its Livelihoods and Climate Change development work.  These new programs can be grouped together under what’s called “Active Citizenship.”  In short, VSO wants to mobilize the vast human resources in this country (which has a history and culture of activism, engagement, and volunteering) to assist in the poorer areas of the country.  It has 2 programs, one called “Inter-Island Volunteering” where skilled Indonesians travel to poorer regions of the country to share skills, and “IndoVols” where skilled Indonesians volunteer internationally (much like I have).

 

In order for VSO to access the right skills needed to increase development capacity, they recognize that engagement with the Corporate Sector is crucial.  And that, after a lengthy explanation, is where I come in!

 

I am here to research opportunities and challenges associated with Employee Volunteering in Jakarta.  I will create a baseline, find out what’s happening currently, and advise VSO on how to best engage with the corporate sector (development organizations and business still speak vastly different languages).

 

[My Randstad colleagues will be amused to learn that yes, I’m building a database, qualifying contacts, making cold calls, and trying to book meetings with companies.  It’s like I’m a new consultant all over again].

 

So that, in a nutshell, is what I’m doing with VSO Indonesia.  I know from a development standpoint it’s not as desperate sounding as HIV in Africa, or even my disability project from Solo in 2009, but having said that, I believe firmly in VSO’s participative approach, the sustainable results that can be generated, and the good work that it does.  If you’ve gotten this far, I’m going to ask you to go just a bit further.  This is the point where I ask you to contribute to this cause, and supporting me, here:

 

My Personal Fundraising Page

I thank you in advance for your generous support.

...For more information:

www.vsointernational.org

www.vsoindonesia.org

www.cusointernational.org

Thaddeus

Meet Thaddeus.  I don’t know how I came to give him (her?) this name; it just popped into my head.

 

Thaddeus is my roommate, one of several.  This is strictly a logistical arrangement; we aren’t friends, and there certainly isn’t any funny business going on.  Our partnership is based on mutual trust, respect, and yes, distance.

 

Thaddeus lives in my ‘kitchen,’ which is basically a separate room, at the back of my Kos.  It features a sink, a couple of cabinets, a strange, creepy laundry area (I know it’s a laundry area because the tile floor stops, it drops a few inches, there is a ‘drain’ – really just a hole – in the floor, and 2 clotheslines draped across it), and yes, several roommates, most of whom live up high, where I like them.  I also store my meagre food items in this room – cereal, peanut butter, bread, UHT milk (gross), along with a couple of random dishes.  The only things I do in this room are brush my teeth, and wash my dishes.  Thaddeus lives in the corner next to the sink.  So I hang out with Thaddeus for a few minutes several times per day.

 

In Bali, you’re never far away from nature – it permeates everything.  So I fully expected to have all kinds of roommates no matter what my accommodations.  At home I would flip out if I saw an ant in my house – nature belongs outside, damn it.  But that kind of attitude will just contribute to mental instability in a place like this; you can’t stop it.  You just have to accept that you will have roommates.

 

When I was living in Solo, I had a roommate, similar to Thaddeus, who actually lived in the little corner created by my bed, wall, and headboard.  This will be shocking to many readers as I have been world-famous for my fear & dislike of eight-legged creatures of any kind.

 

However I also do not kill.  Anything.  With the exception of mosquitoes, and possibly earwigs.  So I am forced to make arrangements with my roommates – you stay on your side of the bed, and I’ll stay on mine.  This roommate had high integrity, as I don’t think I ever saw him move more than a few millimetres one way or another.  His home was, after all, an elaborate killing machine, a trap for unsuspecting victims, useless if he went on a road trip to oh, say, my ear.

 

My Solo roomie and I lived in perfect harmony for the entire time I stayed in Solo, over 4 months.  When I pulled my sheets off the bed to have them laundered I needed to do it with great care, so as not to damage the roomie’s living arrangements.  I actually had a moment where I said good-bye to him when I left; I wished him the best, thought to myself how lucky he (she?) had been to have me.  You see, as soon as I left, the cleaning staff would come in, and, well, you can imagine what would happen.

 

It was such a positive arrangement in fact (I wonder how many mosquitoes he ate before they could give me Dengue Fever?) that I practically embraced Thaddeus when I discovered him.  Just next to his web, there is a little hole in the wall from which tiny ants come and go.  Thaddeus is having a field day – there are dozens of little ant corpses under him.  It’s a feast; he has literally doubled in size since I have arrived.  So of course I am pleased by Thaddeus’ presence; he helps keep the ants at bay and away from my food.  Harmony in Nature; Symbiotic Relationships.  Life is good.

 

...But that was yesterday.

 

This morning, Thaddeus was gone.  Our unspoken rule – simply “stay there” – was broken, along with my trust.  Why would Thaddeus leave his smorgasbord?  Why would he threaten the delicate balance we had achieved?  What if he ends up somewhere he is less welcome, like my suitcase, wardrobe, toilet, or ear?  I think Thaddeus got greedy, having grown up in a world of plenty.  He thinks every home he builds will provide him with an ant smorgasbord.  Thaddeus also didn’t think he needed my protection.  Well let me tell you something Thaddeus, if you’re watching:  I will be less accommodating if we meet again.  I feel betrayed; I no longer trust you.  You better stay hidden, away from me and my things, until I go.  Beware the Bule.