Omens, it seems to me, in Indonesia all begin with a promise of being somewhere on time. It is at that point that guarantees plans will skew and deviations will occur. One might also venture to pen a culturally related proverb like this: beware of the person who promises to be on time.
Friday afternoon I reaffirmed of the plan to go to Bira for an English camp. I confirmed the time to 6.45a. The next morning rolled around and I was ready to go at 6.45a. 6.45a came and went. I then surmised that maybe what they really meant was 7.15a—a plausible mistake. 7.30a rang and I officially called them ‘late’ and reclined on the sofa as a surefire sign to them that it was time for them to arrive. At 7.45a, the horns beeped, and we were off. Or so I thought. After arriving at the university to hop on the bus, I was met by many students lounging about and others just starting to load the bus with carboys of water, kerosene stoves, uncooked rice, glass plates, etc. The necessities. Eventually, we started bouncing down the road in two buses.
The ride to Bira was punctuated by rollercoaster like motions over small bridges and a few rest stops. At one point, my counterpoint hastened to inform me that we were passing through an area that had installed traditional Islamic law. We finally arrived around 3p or so and began unpacking to the activity hall they had arranged. This was the only reservation anyone had made. The next hour or so was bargaining for lodging. Finally, the students found an alternate hall and I was ushered off to a traditional Buginese house standing on the seaside for a little rest before the unknown evening activities began.
Upon returning to the activity area, the number of participants doubled due to an invitation to local high schools. I was also informed that I would have to give a speech as part of the opening ceremonies and fumbled along as usual. Other speeches were given, and the English camp was official opened. I was lucky enough to begin the camp with a simple activity to get the students energized. Over the rest of the time I completed two more sessions and circulated among the students as they participated in activities in view of the beautiful Bira beach.
The ride back was a little more crammed than before. We had to stop off for a few moments at a student’s house for refreshments and dropping the equipment we borrowed for the camp. A good while into our return trip, we stopped for restroom and snacks. I picked up a bag of fried corn and walked a little bit to stretch my legs. A grinding metal sound occurred, and I turned my head with everyone else. The wheel and drum of a car had sheared off and sent the wheel careening off the road. It bounced gently off a building and did no harm. The car stood still in the middle of the road, slowing traffic. It was time for us to go again.
That was a whirlwind tour of Bira beach and my first experience with an English camp.
I think all of us had a good time.