There's a Pati in Tlogowungu . . . Wait, Reverse That

The Center of SMK Farming pati

After a bus ride from Bandung to Jakarta, a plane from Jakarta to Semarang, and a car ride from Semarang to Pati/Tloguwungu, I was finally home.  SMK Farming Pati is the school where I will live and teach for the next eight or so months.  It is located about seven kilometers outside the small(er) city of Pati, Central Java, in the middle of the larger province that also goes by the name Pati.   So, Tloguwungu—and by geographic association, SMK Farming Pati as well—is Pati central.

Mas Tommy, Ibu Ning, dan Pak Bambang.

I was picked up in the Semarang airport by Pak Bambag and Tommy, my host father and 15 year old brother, respectively.  They ushered me back to school where my host mom, Ibu Ning, and Bagas, bro aged 19, were waiting with a few family friends.  I felt at home instantly.  The Bambang family lives in a nice, open house set on the school campus (they are also the headmaster and vice principal of the school).  My house is located about twenty feet away from theirs.  About fifty feet away from my door is the joglo, a raised, central structure without walls and with a high roof.  It is the center of campus and the main nonkrong (Indonesian for hangout) spot.  The joglo is surrounded by gardens that grow a variety of crops all year round.  Ringing the joglo are classrooms, the teacher office, the cow pen, the goat pen, the student dormitories, my host family’s house, and my house.  Having ready-made community out my front door, especially one that was instantly kind and welcoming, has made this transition really enjoyable.

The new abode.  Car not included.  Students included.

Harold, or Harry.

My house is pretty great, especially now that the water is running.  I have four or five roommates: four geckos and a wildly large spider I named Harold.  Since there are a ton of flies around (Folger’s has nothing on attempting to swat flies on your face, first thing in the morning), I figure the in-house fauna should stay.  Plus, it’s nice to hear the geckos bark as I go to sleep.  This crew can compete with the best pillow talkers I have come across.

Me: “Fingernails and toenails: I mean, I can see the importance, but what strange growths.  And, like, they keep growing!  Have you ever stopped to consider that?  They don’t stop.  Ever. Yeah, fingernails and toenails are crazy.  What’s up with them?”

Geckos: “Bark, bark, bark, bark.”

Me: “I shall name you Cody, and you Jesse, and you Lisa, and you Daniel.  And I shall love you all.”

Geckos: “Bark, bark, bark, bark.”

Harold: “If you all don’t shut up right now, I am going to inject venom into your circulatory system and watch as you writhe while your insides turn into goo.”

Daniel Gecko: “Bark.”

[Screaming, writhing, shriveling, gasping]

Me: “Goodbye, sweet Daniel.”

When I first arrived there was a small party of sorts that was for Halal Bi Halal (an end of Ramadan celebration) and my welcoming.  There was some musical entertainment provided by the students, a prayer, I introduced myself, all of the teachers introduced themselves, and then we ate.  It was a really kind gesture, one that I will remember for a long time.

You can call me Mr. James.