I was thinking that for Easter in Manado I’d do much the same as I did in the US; I would sleep in late, eat some heavily salted pork product, and find an angle of repose to sleep away the afternoon. Of course, I was wrong and it only took three hours into the Easter period for me to figure this out.
At 3a, the loudspeaker kicked in. The one speaking greeted us all with utmost respect. Was this the Christian version of the Muslim call to prayer? The Christian muezzin proceeded to announce the morning’s activities at his respective holy house. I caught a few things here and there. Sunday school was to begin at 6.30a; the first mass would begin at 5.30a; the speaker also acknowledged that it was early by not only addressing the community with the normal greeting but also reduplicated the word for ‘morning’ so that it could be translated as ‘good morning morning.’ This reduplication indicated that the speaker knew it was damn early. I listened for a few minutes hoping that the announcements would cease and the neighborhood would be able to heave a collective sigh and fall back asleep; this didn’t happen. The speaker ended his morning news bulletin and switched on some music. I pulled a pillow over my exposed ear and fell asleep on my own.
I awoke again to the banging of the nearby church’s rock band. It was a tolerable hour, so I arose and mixed up a cup of genuine Sulawesi coffee. I took my cup of bitter to the front porch and welcomed the sunny morning. The son of my landlord was out too. I seized the opportunity to ask about the 3a call to prayer.
- Is Easter Sunday always like this?
- Huh?
- The very early loudspeaker. Do they do that every Easter?
- Yeah.
I walked back up to my flat to finish my coffee.
If Sunday was Easter, then Monday must be Second Easter. I had never heard of Second Easter until noon of the same day. I went to work that morning because that’s what I do most weekdays. A few hours passed and I remained the only person in the office. Not entirely odd, because the staff often arrive late if there is no pressing work. My next step was to text message the language center director. I get a cryptic response. I clarify my question. Cryptic yet tolerable response. The first class I was to teach that day is cancelled. No other place in the university is open today, yet the afternoon class is still on.
John, the other American working there, arrives. I ask him, “Is today a holiday?� “Yeah, it’s Second Easter. Why are you here?� “No one told me.� He laughs. I stick around a couple more hours to reinforce some information I wrote on a piece of paper to the director. I do so. I wait around for the 2.30p class. The classroom has one student. I tell her to come get me if ten students show up by 2.45p. If not, go home. Another student comes in at 2.45p as I’m walking to the classroom to check the situation out. The students smile at me; I look stern at them and say, “Go home.� We all leave. The odd part here isn’t that I wasn’t informed of the ‘holiday.’ Anyone who has worked in a developing country can quickly confirm this happening a few times to them. The odd part is the other two students who came to the language center to ask if class was cancelled or not. The director told them no; they mulled about outside my office for five minutes and walked off. This was 20 minutes before class started so I didn’t pay any mind to it. The two guys never returned.