Kayen

I am staying at Rumah Kayen in the Kayen village area in north Yogyakarta.  Life away from the hustle and bustle of the City moves at a different pace.  The people live simply, but fully.  Their rhythm, cursive and slow, calls me from head to foot, from mind to heart, welcomes me to the gentle soul of earth.

   

It is a school day—children in Indonesia attend school six days each week—and the sounds of children laughing on the school playground echo throughout the small village. 

A young man on a motorcycle turns the corner with his infant son held in a sling close to his heart.   He glances at me briefly, smiles and returns his gaze to his son.  His obvious and palatable love brings tears to my eyes.

 A tailor rides his bike with a portable sewing machine, stopping to complete needed work.

An extended family gathers on the front porch with their newest member, a baby girl. 

The farmers in the fields wave flags and sound tin cans to keep the birds away.

A woman washes clothes in a small irrigation ditch that brings water to the fields.

Everywhere, a smile and a “halo,” yield joy and appreciation.  I sink into other, into myself, into the holy.

Of course, life in the village is not simply idyllic.  People live on very limited resources.  Government corruption is rampant, and the effects of imperialism and colonialism (the subject of my weekly reflection) linger.

Oh, and I haven't mentioned the occasional bat because . . . there's Batman, and remember from post two, I'm over icky things . . . at least until the time when alligators slither from the fields. Then, it's back to the past, full throttle!