It is four in the morning and Kuta Beach is still a zoo. Drunks with drugs and ciggies play a demented, primal game of survival, the inebriated version. Young males are fighting to claim title of "alpha male", flaunting ink and muscles, trying to show association and might. Men and women, boys and girls, in any combination of the four, play games of cat and mouse looking to recreate rather than procreate. I can handle this madness. I can choose to ignore what I see and I am better off for it. I have the choice to be or not be here.
The other thing I saw this night broke my heart, picking it up, dumping out any remaining local brew, and kicking it to the curb. Kids on the street, trying to sell bracelets and the like at four in the morning. These were not kids that chose to be here. Some of their mothers stood nearby, holding their youngest, most raggedy child. "Hungry," they tell me. I think the children are more tired than hungry, I try to tell them to go home. I try to explain that I would be more than willing to help if their child was not out so late. I offer to by food, but this mother insists on money or cigarettes. Other mothers were not present, but surely they had similar intentions. This is no way to live, no way to grow. Some of the solo children were no older than five, with tired eyes, in among the carnage and profanity of night life. The other children who were with mothers even quite younger. I cannot handle this. This I cannot ignore. This will not fly.
My dreams were muddled, but redundant. They told me to fast from talking. I did not talk yesterday. I need to figure out how to help children like this. I hope the silence of my mouth will help my mind figure something out. I will fast some days until I can think of some sufficient way to help. Silence will mold my mind while fasting, I can talk with people for possible solutions or steps toward a solution the other days. I feel helpless to help the helpless most of the time, but it is all I want to do.
Let's Make a Word
Remilist |ˌreməˈlist| v. - to reminisce about a time, place, person, or thing by making a list.
Blogual Responsibilities Ignored or I Paid My First Bribe Today
Well, I only have a few more days here in Bali, so I have decided to post some blog entries that should have been up long before, as well as write some new ones. Sincerest apologies for ignoring my blogual responsibilities.
Indonesian ginger coffee, fought off any lingering congestion from my cold as well as any jet lag that remained.
Right now it seems low tide is simulcast with the amount of sunlight. So at noon, we have twice as much beach and no good surf, at least within Seminyak and Kuta. High to mid-tide is best, which means surf, siesta, then surf again. All this with a plenty of 2$ meals of nasi in between.
This morning we surfed this head-high right a few breaks down from our friend, Dedik’s surf school. Jeremy and I snagged a few waves amongst the local kids and aggro aussies. These were the first real waves I have felt confident riding. Until now, I was mostly greeted with low-tide closeouts.
We had a fifty cent post surf meal from a bicycle vendor then hung with the boys (and two girls) from the surf school. Jeremy offered a ride back to Uma Drupadi (our apartment) on his motorbike. We made it within 100 yards of our place and were stopped at a police checkpoint. “Oh shit,” I heard Jeremy utter. They pulled us aside. I was not wearing the helmet that I did not own (a requirement for any westerner.) They took a look at Jeremy’s illegitimate motorbike license.
“Very good,” the officer approved. “What you do Jeremy?”, he enquired as he escorted Jeremy to the side of the road.
“Where are you from?” one of the other officers asked me. “Ah, Chicago. What you do?... Ah, student. Very young.”
“Very young,” the main officer replied, returning from the side of the road.
“Chicago Bulls! Good basket!” the other officer said, faking a signature fade-away shot.
Jeremy talked with another officer while this went on. They wanted a bribe, but would not come out and say it. So they made small talk until we got the point.
“Hey, how much do you have on you?” asked Jeremy.
As soon as we slipped them some money, equivalent to a few US dollars, they let us ride off with an illegitimate license and no helmet. It is just how the system, or lack there of, here works.
I slept quite a bit today. Jeremy and our friends here have started to realize how I sleep. Hard.
My siesta turned into a six hour dream marathon. I just woke up at 10 to an empty stomach. The 24/7 cafe two doors down, Warung Drupadi, tempts me with fried rice and a bottle of Bintang.
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