My Life as an Indonesian Sitcom

A week ago I found that one of the bananas from a bunch on my counter had been nibbled, not nibbled exactly, more like gnawed about 1/3 of the way gone. I tried to mime a mouse trap to my landlady, but I don’t think that got through. After finding more poop on my counter on Monday, I decided to take action and Indonesian dictionary in hand I went in search of a trap. The next morning I was curious to see if I had caught anything, and upon cracking my bedroom door I came face to face with a rat, not a mouse as I had hoped. The rat was still, but as I exited my bedroom, it began to struggle (note: I could only find a sticky trap which DOES NOT kill). It about scared the life out of me and sent me sprinting. I contemplated leaving it for the day, but decided that leaving it would just mean I would have to deal with it later, and what if it somehow got free in that time? Heart-pounding I armed myself with several plastic bags, and proceeded to double-bag the rodent and take him to the outdoor trash bin. That night with the rat still fresh in my mind, I was awakened by a rattling in my bathroom. I found a mouse in my trash can frantically trying to hop out. Screaming some choice words, I ran and got my broom (I’m not sure why I thought this would be helpful) only for the mouse to jump out of the trash can at me and scurry around my bedroom and out of sight. Needless to say I did not sleep well. The next morning I awoke to stomach rumblings of the worst kind, most likely mouse-stress-induced.  I went to school anyway convinced it would work itself out. At lunchtime when my Ibu got out the lunch she had made for us I kindly explained about my stomach. She seemed to understand, but then proceeded to ask me about  five times why I wouldn’t eat. When I finally snapped, she looked very serious and declared that the mouse and sickness were too much for me and that I needed to go home with her for the night. Too tired to argue I let her load me into the car. Unfortunately my Ibu had other plans to nurse me besides taking me home. First stop was to pick up my laundry and take it to my house; second, the tailor to pick up my school uniform; third a Chinese restaurant to get me Bubur Ayam ( a rice porridge with egg and chicken) and hot tea; fourth the bakery to buy me an assortment of pastries filled with banana (I had tried to explain the BRAT diet and apparently banana was the only thing to get through). Finally back to her house I realized she only had a squat toilet, so I took a nap in her son’s bed whom she had kicked out of his room, and prayed that I would not get sick again. After two nights of sleepovers with my Ibu, I was ready to spend some time alone on Friday. However, my favorite English teacher had plans for me to meet her mother. In lieu of English words to tell me how much she liked me, Ibu Yut’s Mom, Omah, decided to buy me things. So my Friday evening was spent following Omah around various shops and stores while she bought me random things and gave me advice in Indonesian.  I’m beginning to feel like I’m a part of a bad Indonesian sitcom; but, I think it’s a good thing that everything is so ridiculous- it definitely makes it easier to laugh, and it’s always better to laugh than to cry. Lessons learned this week: 1. If you use a sticky trap be prepared to take care of WHATEVER is stuck to it. 2. Suffer the D in silence. 3. Marry a doctor or a pilot (a piece of advice from Omah)