700 handshakes and casava bbq

I now truly understand what it is like to be "in a fishbowl". I don't think I have ever been watched by so many eyes at once. All 700 students lined up around the school courtyard, in and outside nearby classrooms and on the balcony, pointing at me and looking very surprised and amused to see that their English teacher from America, dressed in slacks, a long button down shirt, and a blue headscarf (jilbob), did not look like a bouleh (white person) at all.

Today instead of classes, we had an outdoor orientation ceremony (Halal bihalal) to welcome all 700+ high school students back to school after the Ramadan/Idul Fitri holiday. The ceremony, which took place in the school courtyard, consisted of every single student lining up to shake every teachers' hand- including mine- as dramatic music played in the background. I say shaking hands, but it is more accurate to say that some students lightly held my fingertips, while others kissed it, and still others pressed my hand to their cheek.

The generosity of Indonesians never ceases to amaze me. I was exhausted when school ended and my cheeks were sore from smiling but I happily joined the teachers to visit Mr. Mu'at (who works at the school) because his wife wife had a tiny, tiny baby just yesterday. After a visit to another teachers' home and a trip to the market, Shienda and I finally returned to my yellow house and I knocked out for a two hour nap. I woke up to the sound of talking from my kitchen and after finally getting up, discovered a small army of chefs at work. Shienda's mother and sister had arrived to help my cook dinner and when I opened the door to my backyard, I was surprised to see Mr. Mu'at (whose wife just had the baby) himself sitting outside fanning a small fire (made from woodchips, a cigarette box, and a flip-flop- yes a shoe) where he was grilling a casava for me. He also grilled a corn on the same fire and carved a young coconut for me.

This is just one of many examples of abundant kindness that I have been flooded with. When I first moved into my dark and empty house I wasn't worried, but I questioned whether I could ever feel at home in such a foreign place. My power and water occasionally turns off, my kitchen ceiling leaks and my house seems to to be the favorite hangout for ants and fruit flies; yet surrounded by all these wonderful people I think someday soon, I will be able to call this house my home.