Kasihan Deh Loe

The title is an Indonesian expression that means, more or less, "Poor pitiful you."

The royal 'we' is back! And boy are we tired! As we sit here, staring at a blank screen, we ponder the day's events.

We just polished off Thanksgiving dinner. Yeah, so it's Friday, so sue us. There's no day off here, so we had to wait a day to have our celebration. And as they say in Indo, we had 'makan-makan -- a feast!

This was our first official Thanksgiving in Indonesia. It took three years to get here, but we made it. Until now, we haven't had a decent kitchen arrangement, much less an oven, to do the do.

Pardon me whilst I take another swig of homemade margarita...

OK, we're back.

So, anyway, it was a roaring success. How do we know that? Because Indonesians don't eat without rice. It's unthinkable. It doesn't happen. The Universe would turn inside out if an Indonedian didn't have rice with their meal.

Guess what? The Universe turned inside out tonight. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Pardon me whilst I take a swig of margarita...

OK, we;re back.

So, anyway we made chicken because turkey is so obscenely expensive here that even a rich man would balk. In fact, we have seriously considered going into the turkey business. We'd own the Asian market, man.

The fun part was buying the chickens (we made four to match one turkey). We went down to the local traditional market, which most white boys are afraid to do, and with good reason. When they see a white boy coming, they raise the prices 300%. But they are afraid of us because we are over six feet tall and speak Indo pretty good and we aren't afraid to negotiate.

So, we brought home four pullets, completely denuded of feathers, but still with head and feet attached. It's a bit disconcerting to look a naked chicken in the eye, but we managed. After relieving the chickens of their heads and feet, which our girlfriend hoarded for some mystical homecookin' later on.

Sorry about that, needed another swig of margarita...

So, anyway, we made the traditional sage stuffing, mashed potatoes, broccoli with cheese, and our world-famous (on three continents) spaghetti sauce. Our girlfriend added meatball soup and these damn little coconut things wrapped in banana leaves that are just damn good, but won't keep until tomorrow, so she keeps stuffing them into our over-fed mouth and making us very uncomfortable.

Wait while we get another swig here...

So, anway, we had 25 Indoensians here, of which we were the only white boy. It's safe to say that none of them had ever tasted anything like our cookin' before. And here's the best part...no one ate rice!

Now this may not seem like a major victory to you, but to us it's just down right miraculous! For an Indonesian to be so full as not to eat rice is just...well, a miracle! The stuffing and potatoes were major hits. We were asked repeatedly for the recipes, to which we could only reply, "We don't know." And it's true.

You see, when we were a kid, we learned to make the stuff at our momma's elbow. We know the ingredients, but when it comes to how much...we just don't know. We keep throwing stuff in till it smells right, feels right and tastes right.

The killer is, it's Indo tradition when you are invited to a feast (makan-makan), you bring something to throw in. Well, good Lord, we got cakes and snacks and stuff we can't pronounce in our current state of inebriation.

'Scuse us while we get another swig...

So, anyway, we all ate until it just plain hurts.

In another fine Indonesian tradition, guests all loaded up to-go places and doggie bags, and we STILL have more damn food! The refrigerator it packed to the gills, and we almost forgot to mention the ice cream we ordered - bars on a stick, fruit tarts in a cup, and little cake and ice cream squares. Afraid we wouldn't have enough, we now have a life-time supply in the freezer. Our cholesterol is pegged out just thinking about it.

Sorry about that...had to fix us another homemade margarita...

Speaking of which, they got these little limes here that make Key lines taste like sugar bombs! these little suckers will make your face cave in on itself like a black hole just formed at the back of your mouth.

So, anyway, we won't have to lift a finger to cook for the next three and a half months. Wich is fine by us, since we got up at 4 a.m. to cook all this stuff and didn't get our regularly scheduled nap this afternoon, since delivery people kept waking us up.

So, as you can imagine, we really resent having to write this here column when we could be sleeping soundly next to our already snoring girlfriend. So, why are you so demanding anyway? If it we're for you, we'd be lying in a blissful coma dreaming of naked chickens full of sage stuffing!

As it is, now we have to make yet another margarita just to stay awake lond enough to finish this damn thing.

sorry about that. We went ahead and huffed a fag while we were at at. That means smoked a cigarette. Get your mind out of the Hershey Highway, buddy.

So anyway, we learned a fun fact tonight. Indonesians have never heard of a wish bone. Seriously. We had to explain all about drying them and then getting someone else to yank the other side, and whoever gets the big piece gets their wish. We had to laugh. Imaine that...never heard of a wish bone! So now we have four of them drying in the kitchen and we're thinking about selling them, since now everyone thinks they are so cool and they want one. We told them they can get their own damn chicken, know whatwe mean? We are guessing there'll be a wish bone yankin' festival here come Sunday.

Which reminds us, we want to go see Harry Potter tomorrow. We've waited a decade for this series of movies to wrap up and we are getting impatient! We're lobbying JK Rowling to bring us in to ghost-write the sequel: Harry Potter and the Naked Chicken Carcass.

So, anyway, that should be enough for you to chew on for now. We really need to go to bed, since it's already quarter to twelve at night, which means that we've been up twenty hours now, and we just poured a margarita that was primarily tequila with a whiff of lime juice, which is fine since our face is already caving in on itself from the first seven. Gotta make a pie with these limes. We bet it'd be yet another hit! We should open a restaurant and call it Tex-Indo a la Mode. Don't ask us why we added the a la mode part. Just sounds good, OK? And since the Indo flag is a red bar over a white bar, it would mesh perfectly with the Texas flag to make a very cool logo.

And if you've got some left-over turkey you don't know what to do with, give us a hollar. Even after shipping, it's bound to be cheaper than what we can get here. Oh, and throw in some pecans, would ya? The suckers don't grow here and that was a significant piece missing from our dinner tonight: pecan pie.

Pardon us while we take a long, meaningful draght on this here margarita...

So, anyway, Happy Thanksgiving ya'll. Hope yours was as much fun as ours. And as you're adding up things to be thankful for, don't forget duty-free prices. Nothing like low-cost hooch to round out the holidays!

To hell with these margaritas...we're going for shots now!

Come to think of it...our girlfriend probably took the chicken feet and heads to do some weird jungle voodoo thing.

Pardon us...looks like more hooch is needed to ward off the evil!

Thanksgiving On The Far Side

American ex-pats occasionally bring some of their home culture with them. You have to keep in mind that many ex-pats live outside the country because of the oppression and tyranny back home. I'm no different. I was attacked and impovrished by Child Protective Serives (CPS) because of my politics.

I was intimately involved in the Texas separatist movement for many years. They tried a number of times to get me. My father was also a major enemy of the Bush family mafia, and since he was dead, they wanted to pound me into submission.

Basically, my wife got hooked on Xanax, which like other depression "cures", causes a complete break with reality. When she disappeared with our children, CPS at the behest of political forces saw an opportunity to get me. They could find nothing to hang on me. They had no proof that I had committed any crime. So their solution, which they use quite often, is to delay and hem and haw until you are completely broke and can't fight anymore. My fault was nothing more than disagreeing with fascism and having the gaul to fight back.

So, like many ex-pats I know, I have left the American pile of pullshit behind. But, I still have certain customs that are a part of my life and my memories. Thanksgiving is one of them. Giving thanks to the Universe for my life and my small successes seems like a pretty darned good idea.

furthermore, a lot of Indonesians are deeply curious about Americans and the life we live. The only image they have of us is what they see in movies and on TV. Think about that. How much of what you see in the media actually reflects your real life? None.

So, when I said I wanted to celebrate Thanksgiving this year, a number of friends wanted to join, taste some of the traditional foods and take part in a well-known American holiday.

I had to make some concessions: some of my friends are muslim, so the food has to be halal; I have to work Thursday, so the celebration will take place on Friday; and turkey is about $100 a kilo here, so I will use chicken instead. However, I will make the sage stuffing, my famous mash potatoes, my world-famous spaghetti sauce, and cheese brocolli. My girl-friend is making bakso soup (bakso is a Chinese meatball) and some other Indonesian favorites.

So far, there are about 20 people on the list for dinner. To a person, they have all asked me what is the story of Thanksgiving, so I've had to discuss the whole history of European invasion of North America.

The first time I celevrated Thanksgiving outside America was when I lived with my family in Dublin, Ireland 30 years ago. We could get a turkey, but it was tough and dry...not like the factory-raised Butterball. What was special about that holiday is it drew us together to perform a ritual we have all celebrated all our lives. There is a warm feeling that comes with rituals.

This year, I am using ayam kampung (village chicken). Ayam kampung is halal, not to mention healthier than the factory birds available at home. They are raised within a mile of my house, have never had growth hormones or vaccines, and are young pullets, so they should be tender and juicy.

The chickens will be slaughtered and plucked on Thursday morning. I will pick them up and prep them Thursday night. Friday, I will cook all day to make enough food for the folks who are coming. Indonesians love anything free, especially food, so I figure at least 30 will actually show up. I'm cooking four chickens, five pounds of potatoes, an acre of brocolli, and enough meatball soup to feed an army. I even bought an oven just for the occasion.

Oh, and the best part is I am making a traditional Texas beverage to compliment the food: margaritas. Picked up a liter of Sauza in Singapore just for the celebration. None of the Indonesians coming for dinner have ever had one. Should be fun!

This is my first Thanksgiving since coming to Indonesia. I have finally reached to point where I can host the celebration, so I have something to celebrate. Thank God for success for hard work. Thank God for a good woman to help me. Thank God for friends who took care of me when I went blind. And thank God for the freedom I have found here in Indonesia.

Just hope my friends and family back in the gulag can one day celebrate also.

And thank God that my children are healthy and growing up well. I hope someday they will take up my fight and finish the job.

I hope they will continue to celebrate this tradition, mindful of its real meaning.

And finally, thanks to the people and nation of Indonesia for letting this crazy foreigner to come here and live his dreams and be part of this amazing country.

I can't wait for the chicken and stuffing sandwiches on Saturday!