Am I in Italy or Indonesia?

Today’s blog is written by Jonathan Weaver, who is doing his service on the island of Sumba.

I have been living with my host family in Sumba for close to four weeks now. During this time I have continued to be surprised with how warm and welcoming everyone I have met in Indonesia has been to me. Everyone seems genuinely interested in learning about our studies, families, and hobbies.

Lucky for us (slight sarcastic tone) Susan and Ben included some of the things we like to do in a bio they gave our host families and work placements. I’m definitely responsible for some of the things that are written in this section, but I had planned not to disclose that I was in choir. It has since been disclosed, and it seems now anytime there is a mic in front of a group of people that it would be a great opportunity for Jonathan to get up and sing. Anyway this is not what this blog is about, I just felt like including it. No, this blog is about an interest of mine that I did want in my bio.

My host family took no time at all to get me in the kitchen (they had been informed that I enjoy cooking) . Within the first full day I was learning how to cut and prepare vegetables I had never seen before and assist in any way they allowed me to. I had hoped to walk away from SST with some Indonesian cooking experience and I think I’ve already learned a thing or two.

Cooking with my host family is great, I get to chop or stir something and get all the credit for the resulting meal. The following are example scenarios based on real life situations that happened.

“Oh wow, the Sambal is really spicy.”

*Jonathan stirred the ingredients that were portioned and placed in a pan he was standing in front of.*

“Jonathan makes really spicy Sambal.”

Or

“Wow, the soup is super delicious!”

*Jonathan stood and observed, but also cut one shallot and two chiles.*

“Jonathan is really good at cooking.”

 

I am definitely learning lots from observation, but coming from the Mennonite tradition where you must refuse taking credit for anything, it has been a funny challenge for me to overcome.

I have now given you, the reader, sufficient context to delve into what I actually planned on blogging about.

Last Sunday, March 17 (also known as Saint Patrick’s day) I attempted to share some of my own culinary expertise.

I had asked my host family if they wanted to try to cook some American food with me a few days prior, and they responded with “yes” and “pizza”. Not sure if it counts as “American food”, but I was confident we could make something work.

I went to purchase the ingredients (I struggled intensely). I wasn’t confident I had purchased the right flour, but I saw the word roti on it which means bread in Indonesian (seemed close enough). I also purchased tomato paste for the sauce, small blocks of a mozzarella and cheddar combo cheese, and some undisclosed dry aged pork sausages I found in the non-halal section.

Come Sunday I was not all that confident we would exit this experience with a desirable product. My host family encouraged me that this was simply trial and error, which made me feel better.

We began after church on the dough. I was under the impression we would make the dough in the morning and then come dinner make the pizza when the dough had been given ample time to rise. I was also under the impression I was just making pizza for the family members that lived in the house I was staying in. Neither of my impressions were correct.

Word had spread and by the time we began kneading the dough there were probably close to 20 people around the house. More the merrier right!  Everyone was being very helpful and minus me giving the occasional instruction I wasn’t required to actually do all that much.

After setting the dough aside to rise (we tripled the recipe) I moved on to making the pizza sauce. I had two cans of tomato paste and a dream. I cut up some shallot and garlic and added it to a pan with some olive oil I had also purchased for the dough, I was assisted of course and never had to stir. We added tomato paste, water, salt, sugar and pepper. I thought it tasted pretty good. This is when I learned that Indonesian people don’t really like sour flavors or when things taste too much like tomatoes. We added a lot more sugar and it passed, although not without some complaints.

This is when I thought we were done until dinner, I was wrong. People were prepared to wait until the dough had risen enough to begin. So we waited.

It was a fun and silly atmosphere. I was pacing around slightly overwhelmed with how many people were waiting. Some people were talking about how weird American food is, others commented on how sweaty I had become. There was lots of laughter.

I’ve learned how patient Indonesian people are since being here, and how often the activity of choice is to simply sit and be with each other. I think it’s the culture of duduk-duduk. Directly translated it means sit-sit, but refers to something close to the act of just chilling.

An hour and a half passed and we began the assembly. I failed to press out the dough and they took over, already experts. I showed them the order of assembly and before long they had an efficient system and were pumping out pizzas left and right.

Reactions to the pizza:

The whole process ended up being a lot of fun and they insisted that I record the whole process and make a video. Hopefully that video will be posted along with this blog (note: we were unable to post the video because the file was too big.  Ask Jonathan for the vid).

I think they liked the pizza that was produced. There were a lot of questionable reactions and high ratings, so the truth remains to be seen.

Being with host families has definitely been a highlight of SST for me. I’m so grateful to get the opportunity to live, learn, and share these silly memories with them.