Lo and Behold

“Nggak boleh pakai payung di sini.” You are not allowed to use an umbrella here. That was what the little girl said to me the moment she set her eyes on me. I was too dumbfounded to respond. I stared at her but she no longer had interest in me.

I had been warned about the eccentricity of Kajang people, whose village I was visiting. Feeling rebellious, I put my umbrella on again after the mysterious girl disappeared. Less then five minutes later, someone shouted from the woods, “Payung!”

I looked around and got disappointed. My loud confronter was nowhere to be seen. Yet I was still embarrassed of my conduct. Not knowing whom to answer, I put my umbrella off and walked on. For some reason, it certainly felt like the rain fell heavier.

I reached the first house and knocked with the intention of asking for shelter from the rain. While waiting, I noticed the strange exterior concept. I had seen nothing like that before. As it turned out, I was in for a surprise.

I had heard a lot yet it still took me by surprise when I saw them with my own eyes. One family lived in one house with no means of electricity. I could not live without my phone and they did not even have a rice cooker.

What amazed me was the fact that they had been living that way for generations. I was still saving up for the latest version of iTouch and I did not even dare to ask them about their source of entertainment. Yet somehow, they looked strangely content.

The rain stopped pouring and one of them offered to take me around. Their Indonesian was limited so all conversations I had were sort of two-way monologues. Somehow, they did not seem bothered by the language barrier, neither was I.

My time there was time well-spent. I might have encountered some communication problem, but listening was not the only way of learning. Seeing things with my own eyes was just as educating. By relying heavily on my sense of sight, I was able to develop new concepts of living. And for that, I am grateful.