Jaga Talks

Since all my white friends end up leaving, I've decided that my new best friends are the jagas at school. They are pretty constant. The only time they ever leave is when they retire, in which case, they still live around here. So I've been hanging out at the jaga post having lots of good conversations lately. It's fun to get to know people's stories, especially the people you see every day.

Yesterday morning, I cooked blueberry muffins for breakfast (thanks for the mix, mom). Usually when I bake something, at least one goes directly to the jaga outside my house. I like to be nice, but even more importantly, if we are ever under attack, I need to have those guys on my side. Anyways, I took a blueberry muffin to the jaga, and he in turn offered me some boiled cassava - not my favorite food, but I ate some anyways. And we stood around and chatted.

Me: Oh, did you cook this yourself?
Jaga: Yeah. It's better if it's fried, but I didn't have time.
Me: So you just boiled it instead?
Jaga: Yes. It's really easy to fry it.
Me: Oh yeah?
Jaga: Yup. You just put some water in a bowl with some salt and mash up one small clove of garlic and put it in, then cut up the cassava and let it soak for a minute. It has to be a small clove of garlic though, or else the taste will be too strong. Do you have any garlic?
Me: Um... I think so.
Jaga: OK, so then you just fry it up in a pan until it is brown.
Me: Brown like your skin or brown like my skin?
Jaga: Brown like your skin. If it's brown like my skin, it's already burnt.
Me: Nooooo, your skin is a nice color.
Jaga: Mmhmm... So that's basically it. It's REALLY easy....
Me: ...............
Jaga: ..................
Me: Hey, do you want me to fry this cassava for you?
Jaga: Oh, sure. I mean, if you WANT to and you're not busy.

So now I know how to make some good fried cassava. Haha... And I learned that it tastes WAY better fried than boiled. Kind of like garlicy french fries!

Tonight, I got home late after it had rained for part of the evening. It was a little chilly, and I made some tea. I took some out to the jaga who pulled out a stool for me to sit on, and we chatted for a little while. We compared sermons from our respective churches this morning and talked about our families and practiced English and Javanese. I complained to him about how my motorbike was parked in yesterday and even though there were lots of men around, nobody offered to help me get my bike out. We thought about that for awhile, and we eventually came to the conclusion that if everyone would respect each other, the world would be a better place. I wish that was always possible. We then realized that that will only happen in Heaven. And he really hopes there is a place for him there.