Be Vewy Vewy Qwiet

Well, it's that special time of year again, when Muslims the world over go into hibernation during the daylight hours, known as Ramadan.

If you don't live in a predominantly Muslim country (yet), you may not be aware of what it means to observe the Holy Month.  You also may not be aware that the observance is based on the Lunar Year, which is about two weeks shorter than a Solar Year, so over the years, Ramadan slowly precesses up the calendar, coming slightly earlier than the year before.  For instance, when I first moved to Indonesia in 2008, to escape the Shrub Administration in the US, Ramadan was in October.  This year it began in mid-April.  

 And here Catholics thought trying to figure out when Easter comes in any given year was complicated.  At least you know it always happens on a Sunday.

So anyway, during the 29 days of Ramadan, the observant practitioner refrains from eating or drinking from sun up to sun down.  In fact, the strict observers will refrain from even swallowing their own saliva, which in some places offers an interesting sight of hundreds of folks spitting all day long.

In my experience, many folks just sleep all day, so as to avoid temptation.  After about 7am, neighborhoods become deathly silent until about 5pm, when the womenfolk commence to rattling pots and pans in anticipation of sun down.

Ramadan culminates in the Eid al-Fitr, or Idul Fitri in Indonesian, which is the Feast of Breaking Fast.  To give the Western reader a sense of what this is like, imagine Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, and St. Patrick's Day all rolled into one.

In Indonesia, Idul Fitri is followed by Lebaran, which is officially a three-day holiday, but in practice is anywhere from two weeks to a month.  This holiday involves mudik (exodus), in which every living being abandons the city to pulang kampung, or return to the home town.  Mudik is followed by lavish feating and one of the most amazing redistributions of wealth known to Humankind.

Leading up to Lebaran, people exchange gift baskets of sumbako, or essential foods, usually rice, fruit syrups for flavoring water, canned goods, and homemade snacks in the form of bite-sized cookies and other sweets.

It is also a time for Tunjangan Hari Raya Keagamaan, or more commonly THR.  This literally means, "Religious Holiday Subsidy".  Employers are required by law to give all employees a 13th month of salary, while out in everyday life, it means everyone and their brother expects a tip for everything and the police become extra diligent in enforcing traffic laws.  Meanwhile, back at the kampung, folks return home with wads of cash (borrowed of course) to hand out to family members, displaying their financial success in the previous year for all to see.

One curious feature of this ostentatious display of imaginary wealth is that new car sales spike just before Lebaran, and then slightly used car sales spike roughly two to four weeks later.

The practical side of all this is that those of us who stay in the cities find ourselves in literal ghost towns for a couple of weeks after 90% of the population scattered to the winds.

Except for this year - and this is the fun part.

This year, Jakarta's illustrious and all-knowing gubbener declared that Lebaran, and specifically mudik, are cancelled in the battle to contain the spread of the Fauci Flu Damn-Panic.  Beginning May 1st, no one will be allowed to leave the city.

In most countries, this kind of officious edict might be taken seriously, but this is Indonesia, where finding creative ways of circumventing the law is a national pastime.  Instead of waiting for the annual THR payment a week before Lebaran, folks began packing up and moving out almost as soon as Ramadan began.

Around my neighborhood, shops and restaurants have shut down.  Food stalls that appear on the streets at sun down have vanished and one can actually stroll down the sidewalk unmolested.  Traffic has dwindled to early Damn-Panic levels.  The floating oil slick euphemistically called "air" in these parts, has cleared.  Offices have emptied out and ride-hailing services have added 25% to 50% to their normal tariffs in hopes of encouraging drivers to roll out of bed.

Given that Idul Fitri begins on May 12th, and under normal circumstances this would all occur around the 9th or 10th, this is really quite humorous, and it highlights not only the illusory self-importance the politicians put on themselves, but also the fact that the people aren't buying the Damn-Panic.

This shows, in all its absurdity, that numbnuts sitting in their pre-embargo ivory towers have exactly zero real power to change human nature.  It shows that folks can't be fooled forever, when they see empty hospital wards and the gubbermint handing out free Fauci Flu vaccines to dogs and cats to inflate the distribution numbers, and especially when they don't see people dropping dead in the streets.

While the early shut-down and exodus has caused some inconveniences, I still thoroughly enjoy seeing the complete repudiation of "authority" and I appreciate the Indonesian impulse to simply ignore the rules when it doesn't suit their purposes.

Most of all, I enjoy watching the delusional "leaders" being mocked in a passive-agressive kind of way.  It's almost as if folks vote for class clowns, in order to isolate them from the sane folks, where we can keep an eye on them and they have to write down all their plans so we can carefully avoid them.

Who said anarchy can't be fun?

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Going Slow While Fasting

It's another day in paradise, here in the jungles of Southeast Asia.

Every single freakin' one of the 40 million vehicles registered in Jakarta was in front of me this morning.  I even made a 7a meeting appointment in hopes of beating the rush, to no avail.

Adding to the mayhem is the month of Ramadhan.  So not only are there 40 million vehicles in front of me, they are full of hungry, thirsty people who woke up at 3a to have breakfast before the fasting began.  And this is only the first week.  By the end of the month, people start getting suicidal on the roads.  Half the population of Jakarta are in a fasting, sleep-deprived coma through most of the day.

If you are not familiar with Islam and the fasting month, allow me to regale you.

For 29 days (one lunar month) out of each year, a Muslim (one who follows Islam) is required to go from sun up to sun down without food or drink.  This includes not swallowing your own saliva, which I assume includes someone else's, as well.

Restaurants cover the windows with drapery, the beer cooler is covered and locked at the store, and a great number of folks wake up before dawn to stuff themselves before the morning call to prayer at about 4:15a.

Those bars that still open during the month serve booze in tea cups, so as not to offend, though my question is if a devout Muslim is fasting, what the hell are they doing in a bar in the first place to get offended.  But I suppose that is one of those things that requires logic.

This continues throughout the month until near the end, when folks start getting a glazed, haunted look in their eyes.  Even the mention of common food-related molecules can start an uncontrollable slavering fit and folks can actually get angry at the rest of us who aren't fasting, just because we don't look haunted and desperate.

All of this suffering culminates in the Eid al-Fitr (Arabic) or Idul Fitri (Indonesian).  This literally means "Feast of the Break-fast."  This year, it will fall on July 6, I think.  Hard to tell.  There's an entire government ministry here who's primary concern is the exact moments that fasting begins and ends.  Like all government bureaucracies, they enjoy keeping people hanging on their every belch and twaddle,

Anyway, Idul Fitri starts the feasting of all feasting around here.  It's a lot like a combination of Thanksgiving and Christmas, with millions of folks bugging out and going home to enjoy massive feasts with friends and family for anywhere from two days to two weeks.  Depends on how much money they get in gifts.  More money = longer vacation.

The upside is that Jakarta becomes a ghost town for a week or so.  Virtually the entire population of 12 million vanishes overnight, leaving the city dark and quiet.  Suddenly, destinations that took well over an hour to get to only take 20 minutes.  The damnedable part is that nothing is open during that week, so just when you can actually get around, there's no around to get to.

The worst part about Ramadhan is about 6p every evening, when the mosques start belting out the evening call to pray, hordes (and I use that term advisedly) of people pour out of buildings, cars and any other containment device and head directly to the nearest source of food and water.  This means that just when folks are the most hungry, the most thirsty, most tired, and most motivated to get somewhere, the roads become a vast stagnant lake of shiny metal bugs.  The usual nasty traffic is further bunged up with the piles of people and conveyances parked in front of any place selling water and snacks.

So if you happen to run into someone this month who looks like they've just stared into the abyss and seen the end of the Universe, they are probably fasting.  Might want to give them a break and not eat in front of them, or at least be prepared to put a drip bucket under them.

It reminds me a lot of the old days when Catholics used to practice their religion.  Remember that?  It was hard to find beef on Fridays, or there were lots of specials on fish and chicken?  Back when Catholic kids gave up chocolate for 40 days, or smokers didn't smoke in front of each other (kind of like Baptists and drinking alcohol).  Yup, a lot like those old days of yore. Once upon a time, there was a whole industry built up over Lent.  Only us old geezers remember those days, I suppose.  Of course, Ramadhan is not quite like that.  The Muslims try to make everyone else fast too, so they don't have to suffer watching everyone else have fun.  The Catholics, on the other hand, had to watch the steak houses in full swing and smell that lovely aroma wafting on the spring breeze, or the non-Catholic kids eating chocolate any damn time they wanted.

Ain't religion grand?

Ramadan Gone

Today marks the end of Lebaran, which is a week-long national holiday in Indonesia.  The official days off were last Sunday and Monday, but so many folks bug out of town to pulang kampung (return to the village), that really life here just shuts down for a week.

12 million people vanish overnight - KOMPAS photo

Lebaran is akin to American Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter all rolled into one.  Airports are packed.  roadways are jammed.  Special feasts are prepared.  Gifts are exchanged.  Bonuses are received.

The cause for all this revelry is the Islamic holiday of Ei'd al-Fitr, or in the Indonesian spelling, Idul Fitri.  The holiday begins at the precise moment of the New Moon following the month of fasting and marks the beginning of the Islamic New Year, in this case 1488.

Ramadan is a curious concept.  It requires the strict muslim to not ingest anything. He may not eat, drink, swallow saliva, smoke, or otherwise take something into his body from sun up to sun down.  There are many devout observers of this practice, but there are many who practice in public.  As my aunt said about Southern Baptists, "Honey, we're Baptists.  We don't drink in front of each other."  As with all religions, there are many whose integrity extends only as far as the neighbor's eyesight.

Ramadan is actually quite annoying for those who are not caught up in the spirit of things.  There are the gangs of gung-ho youth who traipse through the neighborhood at 2am banging drums and cymbals to wake folks for the early morning food fest and prayer time.

The mosques begin their turn at 3am with the actual wake up call that the drummers prepared us for an hour earlier.  Depending on the local imam, this may last 5 minutes, or go on well past sunrise roughly three hours later.

This routine goes on for a full 28 or 29 days, depending on whether you follow the synodic or sidereal calendar.  In fact, the government agency in Indonesia whose official task is to determine the beginning and end of Ramadan is always at odds with the mosques.  Every year it's the same controversy.  The government agency follows the sidereal calendar, so they determine that Ramadan starts slightly later and ends slightly earlier than the imams.  Naturally, most folks follow the government agency, especially for the ending time.

The routine is always the same.  For the first week and a half, there is great excitement and fervor as everyone begins the fast.  By the end of the second week, folks have a haunted and pained demeanor.  By the third week, the paranoia sets in: are you fasting?  You better be fasting.  If I'm fasting, you need to be suffering along with me.  As the fourth week begins, the markets fill up with shoppers and prices go through the roof as everyone prepares for Idul Fitri.  Everyone starts worrying about their THR, or bonus pay.

Oh, THERE they are! - KOMPAS photo

Then comes the day before Idul Fitri.  There is nothing quite like it.  Dump trucks get hired out by groups of people going to any given village and 50 to 100 people pile in with their bags for the long, arduous journey to anywhere.  Trains are piled inside and out with people.  Literally millions of cars and motorcycles hit the roadways.  The news is filled with stories of macet, or 'log jam'.  The papers have a running, week-long death tally (this year 870 dead).  It reminds me of the Great Rita Fiasco in Houston several years back, though this mess is an annual ritual.

The night before Idul Fitri, the mosques begin the chanting that will last until well past sunrise the next day - about 13 hours here on the equator.  The next night is marked by a literal orgy of fireworks that goes on for a minimum of five days, depending on when supplies are exhausted.  There are spontaneous bands of merry-makers roving around whooping and hollering.  Everyone shoves food in your face claiming their variation of such-and-such a delicacy is the finest.

By Sunday (today), the fireworks are gone, the revelries have slowed, the shops start re-opening, most folks are back home, and life starts returning to normal again.  Prices, which sky-rocketed last week, start to settle down, though they never return to the levels seen just a short time ago.  The exercise group starts meeting again in the park in front of the house.  The food vendors return to their usual rounds.  Traffic jams clog every road and byway of Jakarta once again.  And the Christians start planning for Christmas.

Life goes on.  Hi Ho, as Kurt Vonnegut might put it.

Mudik To My Ears!

Tomorrow begins an annual Indonesian ritual that is a wonder to behold.  It is the beginning of a holiday called Lebaran.  It is akin to Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year all rolled into one.  And it is the one time of year that it is an absolute joy to live in Jakarta.

But, let's back up just a smidge.  What's going on?

This past month has been Ramadan, which for those unfamiliar with muslim practice, is the month of purification.  A true practitioner will fast from before dawn until sunset.  By fasting, I mean that one doesn't eat, drink or even swallow saliva.  Al Quran also commands the practitioner to work hard and suffer as a means of achieving holiness through denial and patience.

Generally, the ritual involves folks waking up around 3:30am, performing the morning prayer, then eating a large breakfast before sun up.  The mosques help out with the high-volume chanting to get everyone started.  The chanting continues roughly every hour until 10pm.  For muslims, though, the most important one is around 5:50pm, when the call goes out to let everyone know they can 'buka puasa,' or break fast.

During Ramadan, restaurants cover the windows.  The few small pubs still open serve beer in coffee cups.  All anyone talks about is fasting, breaking the fast, are you fasting, did you eat yet, what time can we buka puasa?

Ramadan begins with the first appearance of the Moon at a certain time of the year, which moves around a bit.  Last year, it was October, this year in August.  The month ends with the final disappearance of the crescent Moon.  It's such an important time of the year, there is even a government agency whose primary function is to set the exact dates and times for the beginning and end of the Fast.

The culmination of Ramadan is a holiday called Idul Fitri, which is the Indo version of the Arabic name.  That particular day is a lot like America's Thanksgiving, in which everyone goes home to the family and eats special foods to the point of medical intervention, and spends a week recovering.

Tomorrow, beginning about noon and lasting through the weekend will be a ritual of truly gargantuan proportions.  Millions of people will migrate from wherever they are to the home village in an annual nightmare called mudik.  Mudik more or less translates as 'exodus,' and it truly is every bit of that.  Just about anything that rolls will be pressed into service to carry folks back to the home village to gather with family for the feasting.

What's truly fascinating is that Jakarta, a city of roughly 12 million people, where the legendary traffic snarls are a full-contact sport (literally), becomes a ghost town.  Suddenly overnight, the 18-hour-a-day traffic jams vanish, the crowds at the malls evaporate, and the omnipresent toxic cloud over the city wafts away.  For one week, the city is positively a joy to live in.

The first year I was here, I made the mistake of going to Puncak, in the mountains south of the city.  The area has a great number of villas and resorts for city dwellers, and normally it's quite pleasant up there...except during mudik.  The main road through the mountains became a literal parking lot.  It took as long as an hour to drive three kilometers.  I swear I saw a little old lady, four feet tall and nine years older than God, walking faster than the cars...up hill.

The next year, I stayed in Jakarta and found out that those left behind absolutely own the city.  You can almost literally lie down in the middle of normally busy roads and not move for half an hour.  You can actually see the mountains south of town.  You can go places and not have to wait or be run down by mobs.  The constant drone of traffic noise dies down to almost nothing.  You can even get a table at the Batavia Restaurant without a reservation, not that a reservation guarantees anything normally.

Imagine having Times Square all to yourself, and you almost get the feeling here.

This time of year, I use a taxi instead of motorcycle.  I can actually go across town in 20 minutes, instead of the usual 2 hours.  Places that normally cost $10 to get to, run about $4 or $5, by taxi.

There's also a festive feeling in the air.  The pubs open again and you can get a beer in a frosted mug.  People aren't tired, hungry and irritable all the time.  Folks run around giving gift baskets of food and fruit syrup and everyone gets THR, or the Idul Fitri bonus at work, so they're happy again.

For one whole week, the city is vacant and quiet.  It belongs to us tiko with nowhere else in particular to go.  We sit in sidewalk cafes for the only moment of the year that it's sanitary to do so.  We go to the museum or Monas, because no one else is there.  We are Charleton Heston in Omega Man!

Then, just as suddenly, the week is over.  Comes Monday morning, the traffic is worse than at any other point in the year, except during floods, as millions of people come back and try to rearrange their lives once again.  The magic moment flees and the rat race once again takes over.

Until that time, we savor every lonely, quiet moment in the Big City.  The glorious solitude in the midst of wall-to-wall humanity.

For a brief and shining moment, there was a place called Camelot!
\

Nihil Novi Sub Sole

Yup, nothing new under the sun.

Once upon a time, there was a great stand-up philosopher (sorry Mel) by the name of Tom Lehrer. He was known for putting complex ideas into simple, and hilarious, focus. Exemplii gratis:

Oh, the Protestants hate the Catholics,
And the Catholics hate the Protestants,
And the Hindus hate the Muslims,
And everybody hates the Jews.

But during National Brotherhood Week, National Brotherhood Week,
It's National Everyone-smile-at-one-another-hood Week.
Be nice to people who
Are inferior to you.
It's only for a week, so have no fear.
Be grateful that it doesn't last all year!

I used to live in a predominantly Jewish country (Merica), but now I live in a predominantly Islamic country. So I think that gives me a rather good perspective when it comes to today's topic: Ramadan.

Before I start my rant, I just want to say that I have no horse in this race. What my beliefs are, are strictly my own. From what I see, all major religions have, at their cores, the same ideology and more or less the same roadmap to getting There. They all preach love, peace and brotherhood at the point of a sword, as far as I can see (with the possible exception of Buddhists). They all idolize one or two people who achieved apotheosis using their roadmap. They all sponsor a priefcraft and have secret rituals and handshakes to distinguish themselves from the Others.

For the sake of disclosure, I was raised Roman Catholic (different from those Other Catholics), and they worship a guy who is God On Earth through the sacriment of pedophilia. You can see why I got out of that one.

Anyway, I am happy to let everyone believe as they please as long as they don't force it on me. For that reason, I take some exception with groups who aggressively try to make me see their basic goodness. I have been to churches, temples, synagogues, and mosques. I have listened to the arguments and I have a few good ones myself. As far as I can see, they all exist for two reasons: to take your money, and to convert more pockets.

With all that being said, I find Islam to be one of the noisiest religions around. During most of the year, the local masjid broadcasts the prayers and sermons from loudspeakers six times a day, beginning at the crack of dawn and going until sundown. However, during Ramadan, there is a new level of noise that is positively off the scale.

Don't get me wrong. Christians are pretty darned noisy. At their quietest, the churches ring bells during the day, but somehow that just doesn't rise to the level of off-key, half-asleep croaking voices amped to Kingdom Come and bellowing at 4 a.m. for half an hour every day. And yes, there are the Benny Hinns and Pat Robertsons who worship the god Media, and its Only Begotten Son, Wealth. They are a noisy lot, but they come with an off-switch, or at least you can change the channel, because most folks have long since forgotten there is an off-switch.

Jews are pretty danged noisy, as well. When no one pays attention to the them or thinks their whole 'Holocaust' thing is wearing thin, they start lobbing bombs around. They also innundate Merican media. You can't watch a single show without a token Jew making self-depreciating jokes. But, I have never found anything quite like Islam.

What brings all this up, besides my profound lack of sleep right now, is that Ramadan began yesterday, and in a country composed of about 80% muslims, that means we are all part of the fun. Why, just last night, there was a quiet parade of drummers through the neighborhood at 2:30 a.m., chanting and banging up and down the alleyways. Just as I was dozing again, the loudspeaker came alive, though the voice on it sounded like he could use a little sleep, as well. That was followed by the 5 a.m. round, which will be followed in turn every two hours today, and repeat again tonight for the next 30 days.

I'm all for fasting and purification. Do it myself, but I keep it to myself. The Christians have Lent, which is basically the same thing, but it's up to the individual and they don't spend a lot of effort telling everyone about it. Heck, here the restaurants cover their windows during the day with curtains and people avoid eating and drinking in public. Even bars, where no self-respecting muslim should be anyway, they serve in coffee mugs this month, in case the door should open and a thirsty muslim should happen to catch a glimpse inside. All they would see is a bunch of people sipping tea.

If you want an idea of what it's like, go into a traditional Catholic church on Good Friday and notice all the idols are covered in purple cloth. Now imagine that throughout an entire country, only with food.

Jakarta is pretty cosmo, so there's still pockets of normalcy around, but places like Aceh are off the scale. There, the police go around and check that NO ONE is eating or preparing food before sundown. If they find someone eating, they check your ID. If you are muslim, Allah help you. If you are some other word, they tell you to beat it. Outside the big city, most food places just shut down during the day. There are a precious few where you can get some vittles and the way you tell is by looking at the door. If it is just slightly ajar, you can grab a bite there.

Here's how it works. Muslims begin fasting with the helical New Moon using some ancient formula to calculate the month. By the Gregorian calendar, that month changes each year, but it's generall around the second half of the year. From the minute the sun peeks over the horizon (you know all those minarets around mosques...yeah) until it sets again, the muslim may not eat or drink for 30 days. That extends to swallowing your own saliva.

In practice, that also means that no one else may eat or drink either, since they don't want to see the rest of us enjoying our lives at this time of solemnity. The whole thing culminates with Idul Fitri, which I'll get to in about 28 days.

It makes teaching just a little challenging. I usually keep a bottle of water handy, because when you talk for 8 to 10 hours a day, you need a little lubrication. I have to invent all sorts of novel ways to drink without drinking. Also, you are facing a room full of kids who, well you know the Roadrunner cartoons where Coyote looks at him and he turns to a well-roasted and garnished dish? You get the idea.

And yes, even kids are expected to follow the program. Not to mention, we are all seriously sleep-deprived, so if I manage to say something coherent, the chances are it doesn't stick to anything in the audience.

So, to say I am a little annoyed as I write this should be, at the least, understandable. I like my sleep and I like to eat and drink and be merry (if at all possible). Islam was forced on Indonesia a few hundred years ago by Arab invaders, so it's not like it's a home-grown religion or something. Granted, I could live with the Hindus in Bali or the Christians in Sulawesi or central Sumatra, or I don't have to live here at all. For the that reason, I just keep my mouth shut and do as the Romans. To each their own.

What's interesting to me, though, is that even though everyone is supposedly fasting, the parade of food vendors continues, even now, hawking bread and soup and vegetables. It reminds me of an anecdote from years ago in another lifetime.

I had gone to a cousin's wedding, who happened to be Baptist. I was joined by my rather brash Wife #2. At the reception, she rather loudly queried, "What? No beer?" To which my aunt replied, "Honey, we're Baptists. We don't drink in front of each other."

And that pretty much sums up how I see the whole religion thing.

I do have one last point though. What is it with Jews and Muslims? They both regard Abraham as the father of their peoples (OK, different sons, but c'mon), they both have elaborate genital mutilation rituals (circumcision), they both wear beanies and shawls to pray, and they both shun pork and other critters as food. In fact, about the only substantial difference is the name of God/Allah/Yahweh. So for that reason alone, the rest of the world has to put up with all the saber-rattling and name-calling. Can't we all just get along?

As John Cleese might say at this point, "And now for something completely different."