Odd how it had not been more explicit, more clearly and simply understood. All this long while, right across the decade and more, you were tirelessly observing the family unit, the intact, functioning social group that had upheld human and animal kind more broadly these untold millenia. Retained. Coherent still. Excellent forms every which way you turned. Magnificent in short. The hidden, undisclosed had little consequence against all the abundant evidence.
Fascinating display. All the elements of ‘50s TV apple pie family drama was given a much more thorough, stronger form here.
With Eid the narrow streets were thronged; the wider Malioboro same and the mall too. Ten years ago foot traffic at the mall had always been sparse. Eid must have been a large part, but likely the economy had significantly improved too. (Since Prabowo dipped again on many measures.) Nuclear families perhaps predominating; extended well represented, though not such a lot of the earlier generation. Gramps & grandma had been left behind in the kampung to care for the chooks & fish.
The costume hirers were doing a roaring trade up toward Pajeksan opposite the handsome former Dutch admin buildings, high colour sarongs, scarves & headdress, with the play kris stuck behind in the men’s waistbands. The raised parasols were largely for effect, though of course even the morning sun was murder. Comic opera form; perfectly understandable. Everyone did it everywhere. Only it was odd here paying photographers. How else to get everyone in the shot it must have been, for those who could afford.
The orang with tidy dosh filled the Hamza Batik resto on the top storey of the building. One tall, self-assured dentist most likely the other day hosting his wife & 4 - 5 kids, for what looked a routine treat. Colourful fruit juices crowded the tables with the food servings. After the repast, shortly before the paterfamilias wordlessly rose for departure, his eldest girl brought out a pack of floss picks and handed them round.
Mas Adhi had reserved the usual room. There were precious few guests at the losmen on Gang 2, or any of the adjacent. All the foot & becak traffic came from the top of Sosro and the other streets, where the prices were more affordable.
Ten or eleven days passed without a single request for a photograph with the bule, the white guy in the panama (more than slightly soiled after 18 months daily wear). Then the day after Eid, three cannoned in one morning.
The first was a lad with his wife and another gal. A shot of himself with the fancy man was quite enough for that galant. The other examples were extended family groups, where young children featured with their elders & parents. In both cases the smiles exchanged with the kids had been noticed, which prompted and encouraged the oldies to try for it, the shy mites ushered forward. Go on, go on.
Beautiful, glorious children. Fabulous adornments to any life. Saviours. Startled of course by the uncanny warmth shown little ones like themselves.
The people were honoured to have their progeny greeted in such fashion. Greatly honoured. Exceedingly grateful. A young 6 - 7 year old girl with two long pigtails radiated natural beauty. She and others were clasped for the pics, received hands on the shoulder, the top of their heads. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Sama, sama, sama.
The foreigner speaking the language! How remarkable. The shots would be included in the family albums, a tale to tell.
It suggested how far they had travelled for their precious holidays. Their kampungs were hours away, drivers needing to be hired for the trek. (Regular transport was still limited and difficult in Indo.) They would get the main news items out where they were, for those interested, though very likely not all the ins-and-outs of many of the horrors. The Epstein world was far side of the moon where these people had settled and were raising children by the fields, with the ducks & chicken.
From within Adhi’s room at Pinang Merah the calls from the masjid 15m across the way were heard only on rare occasions. It had been the same on previous visits. The amplification was never lacking and one or two of the younger muezzin were eager to highlight their range; yet there had not been a single wake from the calls. It was odd. One did feel entirely at ease in Adhi’s homestay. Overnight the snib on the door was left.
More oddness again. Inevitably, it was going to sound fanciful invention.
As the days had gone on the relationship with the roaches in the adjacent bathroom developed. To call the space an ensuite would give the wrong idea. It measured 1.3 x 1.7m, maybe. Pan, shower-head mounted on the wall and bucket below the little spigot. No basin, shelf, towel hook or rack. In one corner a tiny plastic waste bin; citronella one side and a deodoriser sachet the other on the floor.
A pair of roaches, presumably M & F. There was an overflow hole in the side wall where in the early days the critters would exit when the door was opened. As the days progressed and the threat receded, one or in some cases both roaches confidently remained in place. It was unclear which gender was the more dauntless. One often chose the top of the waste bin for roosting and held firm regardless. One morning the posture of one had altered; it had been relaxing on its side somehow.
The last day or two there was almost no scampering out of sight; fright at the entry had receded, the flicking of the light and most recently even the bucketing of the toilet was often taken in stride by the pair. It had been a minor point of honour for the whole of the term that there had not been a single cistern flushing of the toilet. All of it turned out could be managed from catchment—from teeth-brushing, hand-washing, during bathing by angling the shower-head hard against the wall and re-positioning the bucket. How many guests were going to go to that trouble? Gold star.
Unfortunately, the enviro credentials had been spoilt the other day when the A/C had been left on 2 hours for the ITO supper, around in Mataram. (The wife Tri might have noticed on the return when she passed the open door.) Through the nights it had been impossible without, same as afternoon recuperation. 24C.
It was Mutalib in Sing who had told of the special care that was needed inside with roaches. Injure, or god forbid squash, a cell mate’s roach, you were in for it big time. The story had emerged in novels too over the years, possibly Genet.
Yogyakarta, Indonesia
Eid / Lebaran 2026
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