Wes Wang Siang Sien Tiak Tung Bung Wes Wang Siang Anak Tibung

I have been giving English lessons with my nephew Pilu. He writes down sentences of words he wants to learn, then I translate them, and if I don’t know them (which honestly happens more than not), then I either grab the ol’ handy dandy dictionary, if my kamus doesn’t have the specific words, I enlist the help of our trusty musty translators (Indah and Ratih aren’t really musty at all). It is great, because that relationship of guru and pupil is a very reciprocal one. As he is learning extremely important words like ‘Soccer’ and ‘cookie’ and ‘water’ and then legs and arms and head and eyes etc. I get to learn them from him, which has become a rather affective way to learn. He laughed this morning as I called him guru while the rain drummed on the tin roof, deafening all other noises except our conversing. He giggled to me in Bahasa Indonesia, “I’m not a teacher, I’m just a boy.” As ironic at times it may be, children really are our best teachers. They have this intrinsic knowledge that we seem to lose slowly and surely as we grow older, but this knowledge isn’t lost forever, but right in front of our noses the entire time. They help me every day here. Whenever I’m tired or frustrated or stressed, I walk into the main room of the TNC, where the village kids have come to use it as a playground and the foreignors as the jungle gyms, and am quite literally tackled by miniature limbs clinging like vines. Often playing a game of, ‘let’s see how many children we can fit on Jiang’s back?’ or ‘how many bicep curls can he do holding me?’ Who said there wasn’t a full service gym in Nehas Liah Bing? There’s the steam room, only problem is it follows me everywhere I go. The children here are pretty impressive, just yesterday Pilu caught the fish and eel the family ate for dinner, and I found him this morning butchering a snake and drying the skin. One of the neighborhood kids named Anwang was wearing a Batman shirt supped up with a cape and all, and on one of our first days here we nicknamed each other Batman. Yet he loves to add little adjectives to our nicknames. For example, one day he was climbing on my back, and he exclaims; “ini Batman besar.” Which means, “this Batman is big.” Or “Batman minum” or “batman kopi” or other fantastic little additives.

You can surprise yourself with how much language you can learn and manage to ramble off when pressed to. Some of the best nights here are the ones spent sitting on the floor of the kitchen/bedroom at my house with my father and brothers and whichever neighbors may happen to be visiting that evening. We men sit on the plastic sheen floor, with shirts off and cross-legged like real men, while the children lay passed out on the mattresses less than a foot away. Cigarettes are passed and so is mismatched snacks of fried fish and chips. We talk about all we can, about the day, about Nehas Liah Bing, Obama, Bali, soccer, food, animals, chest hair and facial hair (Padak Ledan and I agreed to trade my chest hair for his mustache, gotta get him to shake on it). It is definitely one of the best feelings to make a joke in broken Indonesian, whether or not they are laughing at me, it still is the sweet sweet sound of success. Another thing I love about the Wehean family unit, is the structure of their families. So in my home houses my father, my mother, two of my three brothers, one of their wives, two nephews and a niece. Communal sleeping is a huge thing here (though I have my own room, which I feel like a dick about). But the love for each other is so abundant, I am still not sure who is the father of which nephew and niece, that even the brother and sister in law who have their own house could still be the parents of them because of how much they love their family.

Because of certain circumstances, I have found myself lucky enough to have receive a second name and family here in Nehas Liah Bing. I am proud to call Ibu Tibung my second Wehean, and call myself Wes Wang Siang Sien Tiak Tung Bung Wes Wang Siang Anak Tibung. That’s right. Wes Wang Siang Sien Tiak Tung Bung Wang Siang Anak Tibung. Hot Damn there couldn’t be a cooler name if Muhammad Ali and Mahatma Gandhi had an illegitimate child and named him Mahatmmad Butterfly Ali Gandhi, or something of the sort.

Time is winding down like tickets to a Cher concert. We leave on Thursday for the Wehea forest, where we will be relaxing and finishing up projects for a week. We have a lot to do, but we will be spending oodles of time on hikes, wading through rivers, bathing under waterfalls, watching sunsets and finding Slow Loris’ to apprehend and feed ‘em a leaf, and maybe a Gibbon or two. Hell, there are rumors that there still are Indonesia Rhinos still out there, let’s just hope they’re still herbivores. But a week without internet always does the body good. I will make sure to post another blog-diddy before we depart, but research time is dwindling, and there is always much much still to learn.

Wes Wang Siang Sien Tiak Tung Bung Wes Wang Siang Anak Tibung out.