Starry Night of Joy

Pulau Dua: My starry night of Joy

You know those things in life that are good for you? The things that you should like and sometimes do out of conflicting personal obligation; things like drinking 64oz of water, or flossing, or like the things that should make it on your grocery list but are often substituted by much tastier options, like cool ranch doritos?

Welcome to my inward struggle. Hashed out right here on the second island. To be honest, my heart was far away from the Sea Tribe peoples. I struggled to love them like God loves them. I struggled to embrace them and understand their thoughts and values. I couldn't mask the reality of my stale heart. I could not break my heart for these people. I could not fake compassion, care, or concern. So I asked God, I pleaded with God, to break my heart for the Sea Tribe peoples.

This is the story of Island Two.

Rambutan, the hairy fruit. Lots and lots of rambutan. And coconut milk, with floating bits of coconut flesh swimming around in the mix matched glasses. It was kind of like drinking sweet water with an occasional slug. The island leader passes around a megaphone urging all the american friends to say their names and where their from. Enter one of my favorite moments in time: My friend Clint rather than saying, "my name is" introduces himself as, "I am from Clint." Even better, he thinks the explosion of native laughter is because his name is like, as many teased him before, "Bill Clinton." Alas, dear Clint, we were laughing at your bahasa.

We meet our host family. A lovely Ibu, local teacher of the Koran, a mother of two, and a heart set on having a baby girl. A thoughtful Bapak, shrimper, our island tour guide, and deemed body guard. Two crazy boys, who really love rambutan. . .and mischief (ie bringing me a collection of bugs, including one very hairy, and scary spider).

The transformation begins. There is a sense of great delight and joy as we share company with each other. We stay up late and have, what the 16 year old girl inside me calls, pillow talk. We share stories about life and ideas about God. Bapak paces the house at night to make sure we are comfortable and safe and rescues our bags from a leaky room during the Monsoon of Torrential Terror one night. He takes us on a tour of the island and shows us the bat cave. Ibu makes snacks and eagerly waits for us to wake up from our afternoon naps. She just enjoys being with us. The boys sing songs with us and tag along during our island excursions. With each encounter, God moves in my heart. I begin to see this family through the eyes of Jesus. The staleness of my two dimensional view of these people began to crack. Through shared experiences and conversations, God lifted this family off the page of some culture tour book and gave them beating hearts, real spirits, personalities, joys, sorrows, memories.

The last night Ibu wanted to take us to the shore line to look at the stars and city lights from a neighboring island. The simplicity of her invitation and desire just to spend time with us melted my heart. Together, we praised God for creating the stars, sang a few songs, and sat in a warm, satisfying silence.

The next day when we left, I thought about the moment Jesus looked a Peter and, "loved him." I looked at Ibu and I loved her. Tears fell from our eyes and we hugged.

The South China Sea became a little less salty and a little more sweet the day I left Pulau Dua. God is able to change hearts, all kinds, and all conditions.

On our hike to the bat cave we were afforded this incredible view of the island. Island two's houses rested inside the jungle, rather than over the water.

The island's Mosque.

This is me eating, what I like to call, "the fruit of death," but the official name is Durian. There were only two close calls of regurgitation on this trip. You are witnessing one of them.

Swimming is enjoyable all hours of the day.

Bapak climbed the coconut tree to bring me this fun treat. (Bapak is actually in the background, most likely about to hack into more coconuts with his mighty machete.)

Greeted by the drum chorus moments before the birth of "Clint-ville."


Rambutan: the hairy fruit.

Feeling hot, hot, hot

Pulau Satu: the hottest day of my life

The boat cuts across the sea to our first island. A drum chorus echos from the end of the jetty. We dock and are ushered to the government office by a mob of laughing children. Everyone is talking and shouting. Children press their faces against the window to catch a peak at the foreigners as we sit and await our host families. Sweat rolls down our backs and our legs stick to the plastic chairs.

We take a brief walk and culture shock sets in. I am far away from home. Weak structures supported by even weaker pilings resemble houses and the ocean is littered with garbage. A goat chews on grass inside the gates of the mosque. Chickens run under my feet as I try and maintain pace with my group. The odor of baked trash and fishy discards are carried by the faint breeze. This is not my life, I whisper to myself, I was bought at a price.

Our host family consists of a mother (Ibu) and her daughter (Kakak) and Kakak's three children. I think their decision to host us was based on the celebrity status of housing americans under their roof. Every meal was akin to thanksgiving and we all stuffed ourselves out of polite obligation (I can't say I would have eaten three helpings of full bodied fish and spicy beans back home). Conversations skimmed the surface and with their desireless nature toward thought, our team spent time most of our time visiting other families.

On our second full day we spent time with Ibu Zimah, a woman of character and an incredible cook! The combination of her homemade tapestries and a red tile floor along with her gentle and quiet spirit was a piece of beauty in the midst of stench. She taught us how to make these delicious crepes and even baked a cake for us to decorate. During one of our afternoon chats over piping hot tea and freshly baked crepes, we began to discuss the love of God and I retold the story of Hosea and Gomer. Our team wanted to give Zimah the complete picture of God's full and complete love in the midst of our unfaithfulness. Zimah listened, nodded her head, and simply replied, "I enjoy your story, but I am happy to believe what I believe." Heartbreaking. She is missing the full complete love of God and continues to "earn" her salvation by works. Our team continues to pray for her. But in addition to Zimah hearing the good news, was Ferra, a freshly graduated high schooler who's best friend just came to know Jesus.

Island One laid a foundation of Sea Tribe culture and gave me my first baby steps in opening up spiritual conversations. I also, as previously mentioned, experienced the hottest day of my life. Perhaps one person's opinion on the degree of hottness may vary from another's, but what about two people, of Southern blood, attesting to the absurdity of just how hot is hot. It supposed to be nap time, unfortunately I am awakened by the insidious rooster outside the room. I sit up only to realize I am floating in a pool of my own sweat! My hair is pasted to my forehead; I gasp for air. I look over to my teammate, Leigh Ann, who attempting to create a self generated breeze with her striped journal. We ring out our shirts. We slide our legs into the shade. We listen to the rooster. We laugh. What else can you do on the hottest day of your life? Drink water? Maybe. Go swimming? Perhaps. But laugh. Yes. That's what makes the hottest day of your life bearable.

Just outside my home on Pulau Satu.

Walking back home after some singing off the jetty. On most islands, the ocean is the trash can.

Children helping me learn new vocabulary words in bahasa. Any guesses to what word I'm trying to learn??

Cooking that delicious crepe on the floor of Ibu Zimah's kitchen.

Enjoying a visit from Ferra (pink shirt) with hour home stay family.

We all need a backbone

Before your hearts melt for the Sea Tribe people and create a mess all over your keyboard, let me give you the skeleton that structured this month long tour.

• 4 days Language school/getting lost in the City


• take boat to base camp and say goodbye to air conditioning and milkshakes


• Island One: 3 nights home stay and the hottest day of my life


• Return to base camp


• Island Two: 3 nights home stay and a starry night of joy


• Return to base camp for 4 days, flexing our muscles while constructing a fence along the jetty


• Celebrate 4th of July with homemade flags drawn with crayon and a bonfire


• Island Three: 3 nights home stay and the jetty walk of faith


• Return to base camp


• Island Four: 3 nights home stay and the ENjoyable Ibu


• Return to base camp for debriefing


• Return to the City to say goodbye and pick up a few treats


• An afternoon in Singapore and an early morning flight back home

The Home Stay breakdown





On each island families invited us into their homes to stay and learn about their culture. Every island home seemed to provide something unique and unexpected. Maybe a mattress, maybe the floor, maybe we all camp out in the living room, maybe we're over water, or perhaps tucked inside the jungle.





The families cooked for us too! Usually a spread of their staple entrees: rice, fish, squid, maybe a shrimp or two, noodles, eggs, and anything fried.





Daily activities included a community service project, volleyball or soccer games, playing with the kids, snack time with really hot sweet tea, engaging in meaningful conversations, and prayer walks around the island.





With this backbone in place I hope each story shared becomes richer and more vibrant.

Me and Leigh Ann (fellow EDGEr) teeming with joy as we parade down the beach during the sunset on Island Two.

A feast for the eyes

Behold: A feast for your eyes. A few photos to wet the appetite of curiosity.

The pesars (markets) of the islands. These were only located on "bigger" islands that we visited on day trips during our home stays.

Walking the plank on island One. The tide was out. Notice the seaweed drying on the dock. . .want to guess what's for dinner?

A view outside our room on island FOUR. Houses over water blessed us with breezes that cooled us down and pushed away that delicious trash and fish smell.

Walking toward a boat to take us to a market on island TWO. You'd be impressed with the amount of people they can fit on a boat.

Beach at base camp. Delightful.

Sunrise at base camp.

My Bahasa

Bahasa (Language): the building block of life. As a communication major, and a conversationalist by nature, anything to add to my ability to communicate only made the Sea Tribe experience more enjoyable.

Logging around 18 hours of classroom time plus additional practice in the local mall equipped me with enough words to get from place to place, barter for a better price, and tell someone I had a cat. Pretty important subject matters, I'd say.

My language bridged cultural gaps and communicated to the natives that they are worth the effort to learn something new even though we had translators and guides. Over the period of the four islands I stayed on my vocabulary grew and I provided entertainment for the locals, mixing up my verbs and mispronouncing words.

My language grew in other ways too. My prayer language. We prayed out loud and in conversations. We prayed continually. We prayed for open hearts, guidance, protection from the enemy, for specific needs of the communities, for energy, for the strength to stomach the fried mystery fruit.

God answered. Not in english, not in bahasa, but with open hearts that listened to our stories and asked questions, by leading us to specific people and reminding us of specific parables, by keeping us unified and healthy, by giving us the strength to sing one more song and color one more picture with the kids. The answers go on and on.

Lydia, Alyssa, Leigh Ann, and I with our Bahasa cheat sheets right before we go to the local mall to practice!

Ryan, Ben, Lydia, and I on a city scavenger hunt. First stop, the BCS (Beh, Che, S). We meandered all over the city trying to find our final destination.

Rewind

Tomorrow I say goodbye to the enchanting land of smelly fruits and laneless streets. With no access to the internet, I have not been able to post the incredible (and humorous) stories that have taken place along the way. Therefore, we'll do a little rewind action, pulling you up to speed on the four sea tribe island homestays and all the in between adventures.

Encounters included, but are not limited to, lots of squid, stinky fried jackfruit, roosters at 3am, squatty potties, jalan jalan (walks), dips in the south china sea, bat caves, late night chats, stars I've never seen before, and a God who is able.

Salamat Tidur! (goodnight)