Warawiri: Life Consists of Endless Back and Forth Journeys in Time

By Andreas Gosana

It is meant literally! Join the group of five who get lost in a Warawiri, back-and-forth time travel journey into the Middle Age kingdom of Demak Jepara, in the island of Java in the sixteenth-century CE, and explore the amazing experiences of five hundred years ago in a mystical tropical kingdom. An East Timorese businessman, a Japanese stockbroker, a German music anthropologist, and a young Javanese executive lady are in the possession of heirlooms of the Middle Age Javanese kingdom, and they are transported by the mystical powers five centuries back because the heirlooms need to be spiritually cleansed. The president of the United States was also among the victims of the time travel into the past.

And if you do not possess any ancient heirlooms, then just join the ninety-thousand spectator crowds on the soccer championship in the Jakarta Senayan gigantic stadium, who are also transported like a giant flying saucer five centuries into the past.

The only way to rescue the victims back into the present is by holding a mystical ceremony from eight skyscrapers rooftops surrounding the stadium by eight spiritual masters forming the Mandala star configurations, playing the sacred Javanese gending symphony, the Harmony of Spirit in the Sky, led by their leader from the location of the lost stadium, using a slate board as his iPad.

The events are all covered by Matra TV, a private TV broadcast company. A colorful laser light show in the sky from the skyscrapers rooftops, a rumor of an affair involving the president of the United States and the Javanese executive, and an exotic, mystical witchcraft ceremony and village life in remote jungle of Borneo add to your colorful journey into the past.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Apr 21, 2016
• ISBN: 9781514494943

Andreas Gosana

When Andreas Gosana was a kid, he used to get a few Rupiahs as pocket money to buy snacks from his mother. But he went to a folk cinema in the city rural area and used the money to buy a movie ticket. There were no restrictions of age regardless which movie was played. It was the first time he watched the big movies of the fifties like Giant, The Ten Commandments, etc., and knowing actors and actresses such as Gary Cooper, James Dean, Grace Kelly, Susan Hayward, etc. Obviously, his fantasies and imaginations were different than the other kids who watched Disney films. He was always the best in story writing and winning prizes in local story writing competitions. Later on in his late twenties, he wrote a serial in a youth musical magazine that had the circulation of one hundred thousand. His occupation as a copywriter at an international advertising agency added his skill to write more structured and selling pieces. Later on, he got many friends in the metaphysical world, all kinds of spiritual masters from different religions, with their fantastic and mystical experiences from the Southern Coast of West Java to remote jungle area in Borneo. He felt that in the past five decades, the life gets more modern but the ritual remains the same. When as a kid he was very much impressed by Flash Gordon futuristic comic books, today he can experience the touch-button smart phone and watch the direct-satellite broadcast on gigantic screen outdoors. Funny but strange, after so many years, people still refer to astrology, feng shui, tarot card readings, etc., to find solutions and advice to their daily problems. Amazing, isn’t it? And Andreas Gosana still keeps writing about it.

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Copyright © 2016 by Andreas Gosana.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 04/20/2016

Xlibris

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Contents

1.   The Disappearance of the President of the USA

2.   Everything Can Be Arranged

3.   The Real-Time World Gallery

4.   The Javanese Lotus Goddess

5.   ‘Hati-hati’ . . . Be Careful

6.   The Sweet (and Sour) Sugar Daddy

7.   I Am Delivered

8.   Surilang Enjot-enjotan, the Merry Bird

9.   The Girls from Desa Besari

10.   Ratu Kalinyamat, the Iron Queen

11.   The Show Must Go On

12.   The Oriental Express

13.   When the Saints Come Marching In

14.   The Opening Ceremony

15.   Harmony of the Spirits in the Sky

16.   The Spiritual Laser Show

17.   The Spiritual Orbit Deviations

18.   Up Up and Away

19.   Happy Days Are Here Again

20.   The Runaway Bride

21.   Alam Suwung-the Blank Zone

The Meaning of Warawiri

warawiri: 1. back and forth, 2. fickle, unstable

the

Javanese

Years

The Philosophy of WARAWIRI on ‘back and forth in time’ is inspired by the combination of the names of the years in the Javanese Calendar, which are grouped into a cycle of eight years, which is called a windu. The names of the years in the cycle of windu are as follows:

1. Purwana/Alip, which means Ana-ana or starting

2. Karyana/Ehé, which means Tumandang or make"

3. Anama/Jemawal, which means Gawe or work"

4. Lalana/Jé, which means Lelakon or role"

5. Ngawanga/Dal which means: Urip or life"

6. Pawaka/Bé which means: Bola-bali or back and forth

7. Wasana/Wawu which means: Marang or to the direction

8. Swasana/Jimakir which means: Suwung or void

When combined together, the meanings of the eight years compose the following sentence:

Ana-ana tumandang gawe lelakon urip bola-bali marang suwung

The meaning is as follows:

(We) start making activities in the role of life, back and forth, to the direction of void.

the

Javanese

Alphabets

Hanacaraka

The origin of Javanese script HANACARAKA derived from the Javanese legend that tells the story about how civilization came to Java, developed by King Aji Saka, the first ruler of Medang Kamulan kingdom, and the mythical story of Javanese script origin.

One day King Aji Saka sends a messenger back home to inform his two servants Dora and Sembodo to bring the pusaka heirloom to Java to Aji Saka. Dora comes to Sembodo and tells about Aji Saka’s order. Sembodo refuses since he sticks to Aji Saka’s previous order that no one, except Aji Saka himself, is allowed to take the pusaka.

Therefore, Dora and Sembodo are now suspecting each other that one of them intends to steal the pusaka. They fight each other to death. When Aji Saka finally comes home by himself, he finds the corpses of his two servants and discovers the terrible misunderstanding among them.

To remember the faithful acts of his two servants, Aji Saka composes a poem that later becomes the origin of hanacaraka Javanese script.

Hana carakadata sawala padha jayanya maga bathanga

hana = there are/is

caraka = messenger

data = have/has

sawala = difference

padha = same, equal

jayanya = have power

maga = here

bathanga = corpses

Hana caraka – There are two messengers

data sawala – (They) have differences (among each other)

padha jayanya – (They are) equally powerful (in fight)

maga bathanga – Here are the corpses

When combined together, the words build the following sentence:

‘There are two messengers. They have differences among each other. They were equally powerful in fight. Here are the corpses.’

Philosophically, the sentence has the meaning that the messengers or human beings are obliged to obey their master, God, who created them and must be willing to implement, receive, and carry out the will of God.

1

The Disappearance of the President of the USA

The White House, Washington DC, USA

Day Zero Minus Two

‘Inauspicious.’

The black icon with an ‘X’ red cross on the Feng Shui calendar on the smartphone screen marked the condition of the day. The ‘Inauspicious’ indication was the lowest on the legend list below the other eight colors of Auspicious, Romance, Health, Prosperity, Progress, Traveling, Relaxing, and Obstacles.

Joshua Clayton Baker touched the screen of his smartphone and opened the I Ching menu. He concentrated on the question he wanted to consult about on his mind for a few seconds, then he clicked the Yin Yang icon to throw the I Ching. The hexagram popped up and showed the ‘Sun’ configuration that indicated ‘Reduction’. ‘Time of loss but also a new start. Curb your excesses and restore your planning. Get ready for self-improvement and do not lose self-control,’ it said further.

‘Sure, why not,’ grumbled Joshua Baker when he squeezed the screen and opened the horoscope’s professional natal report of that day. He skipped the planetary positions with all the astrological signs and coordinates and went to the main emphasis of the chart. There was Mars opposing the Sun that might cause accidents. He was not surprised about the astrological result after the former I Ching reading, which showed ‘Inauspicious’ anyway.

Did he have to worry about this like millions of other people in the world who also read the horoscope every day? The little difference about Joshua Baker and the rest of the world was that he was the president of the United States of America, popularly also known as ‘JB’.

Did kings and presidents read horoscopes, Feng Shui and tarot readings? Sure some of them did, but no one else needed to know anyway. As for JB, he considered all the stellar inputs and predictions as second opinions in case he needed one. Inside the presidential study room at the White House now JB put the smartphone on the desk on the wall and then sat and stretched his legs on his table. What the heck! People had been checking out their daily horoscopes and psychic readings since thousands of years in many forms from tea leaves predictions to stellar positions in the sky.

The difference today was they could access these subjects using modern gadgets nowadays just with a finger touch. And one click away there were still the superstitions – black cats crossing your path… Friday the thirteenth… Do not walk under a ladder… whatever . . .

JB forgot to see the predictions of the day in the morning, but after the meetings and discussions through the whole day until the evening, it went not so bad anyway, he reckoned. He knocked three times on his presidential desk and hoped that good things would happen next.

His wristwatch showed 9.50 p.m. when David Winkler, his senior adviser, entered the study room. David opened a folder from his arm and lined up a few photographs on the table. ‘The 3B – Borneo Banua Baru/The Borneo New Continent’ was written on the cover of the folder. ‘Thanks for coming late in the evening. These are the results of the holographic photo session we carried out this morning. Our staffs in Indonesia will work out the developments further for the show.’

JB glanced at the photos one by one, wiped his chin, and commented, ‘Don’t you think I’m photogenic?’

‘Yeah, you look good with the Borneo headdress and the tribal staff. They were picked up and decided by the local shamans after long consultations with the ancestors,’ David Winkler commented. He showed the colorful bead headdress and the wooden staff to JB.

‘Really? Maybe they need a new tribal chief after my second term is over.’ JB was examining the exotic handicrafts. ‘So, I will be there in the Borneo village in a holographic form to communicate with them?’

David Winkler opened his laptop and showed the images. ‘This is how the hologram show is going to look like. First, the local Borneo people in the Besari village in Borneo, Indonesia, will perform the warrior dance on the stage. A local girl in traditional dress will then hand you the staff as the symbol of power from the tribe.’

‘I was wearing the headdress and receiving the staff already in this hologram photo series. How would this girl from the real world… coronate… me on the hologram? People will see that the girl is still holding the staff stick.’

‘Have you watched the Celine Dion hologram performance with Elvis Presley?’

‘Yeah, but Celine did not touch Elvis at all.’

‘The Borneo shamans will do the hocus-pocus act.’ David laughed and then explained, ‘When the girl is in front of you, she will have her back shown to the audience. She will quickly fold the staff and hide it in the special pocket mounted on her traditional dress.’

‘I thought the staff is rigid. How is the girl going to fold it?’

‘She will use a fake elastic staff made of clothes and plastic. They won’t recognize the fake stuff from the distance. When the girl is facing you, she folds the staff and hides it in her pocket . . .’

JB looked amazed. ‘You guys…’ He tapped the real wooden shaman staff he was holding a few times and shook his head.

At that moment, David’s mobile phone tuned up a ringtone. It was the sound of a beatbox performance.

‘Can’t you put a more decent country song for your mobile ringtone?’ JB commented.

‘Sorry,’ David Winkler laughed and then answered the call. After listening for a while, he commented, ‘I see… I see… Yes, he is here right now.’

‘It’s Frank. They drop off the Desert Star operation in Battalabad… Withdrawn… due to heavy rain and thunderstorms,’ said David and handed over his mobile phone to JB.

‘Heavy rain and thunderstorms in the desert?’ JB was amazed and then spoke on the phone. ‘Josh here… What’s up, guys?’

A soldier troop was slowly moving forward in the darkness of the combat terrain of a sand desert. Step by step the platoon was moving half-ducking among the rocks and bushes, wearing terrain masking. The weather was very clear with no single spot of clouds in the sky, with thousands of stars decorating the dark endless border, and the moon shone very bright, spreading a dim light across the desert area. A soldier opened his helmet and scrubbed his head and put the helmet back on his head. He stared at the sky and hummed, half-whispering, ‘The moon stood still… on Blueberry Hill . . .’

A tiny beep came from the field satellite phone, and the troop commander looked at his watch and then took the phone held by his assistant. He listened for a few seconds and commented in short, ‘Perfectly clear . . .’

He took a drone, which looked like miniature toy helicopter, and operated it. A soft buzz accompanied the drone when it flew in the air, and his assistant handed him the remote control. He typed the GPS coordinates data and then watched the seven-inch-screen monitor to follow the drone’s movement. The digital map showed their position on the border of Syria and Iraq. It was the latest updated, developed Black Hornet Reconnaissance System that could also carry a mid-wave infrared camera that could cover night surveillance.

He gave his hand sign to the troops to split into two groups. The singing soldier sighed, ‘I found my thrill… on Blueberry Hill, here we come . . .’

The soft spotlight of the moon on the wide desert stage created the shadows of the troops, who were now moving fast separately towards silhouettes of small brick houses in the distance.

All of a sudden, the silence was broken by a thunder strike followed directly by an ear-deafening blast. All the soldiers scattered and went to the ground. They crawled, and some of them, half-risen, tried to escape. They managed to reach into the building area and hid behind the walls and shadows.

The singing soldier looked at the sky from his hiding place and saw no further attacking signs. ‘Holy Molly… What was that?’ he whispered to his friend next to him.

The troop was anticipating the next attack when the second blast hit the sky. They tried to locate the troop commander, but their sight was glared by the lightning.

The singing soldier grabbed his rifle and asked his friend, ‘Who lit the firecrackers here?’ He looked to the sky in amazement when suddenly the rain poured heavily and dropped the waters to his face and splashed waves of waters into the desert area. He wiped his face, when his friend touched him with his elbow.

A red light was blinking in the distance. They waited a few moments and then ran to the former position where the troop splat and joined the other soldiers. Jeeps took them away into the darkness filled with thunders, rain, and windstorms.

The troops retreated, and the Desert Star operation to attack the ISIS militant group’s base in the Syrian-Turkish border Battalabad was withdrawn.

After the phone conversation ended, JB still tried to analyze how all of a sudden there were thunder lightning and rainstorms in Battalabad, the isolated village in the desert. Before the mission, everything should have been planned accurately, including the weather predictions.

When he saw the Borneo staff, suddenly a wild thought was clouding his mind. ‘Is it possible… Yes, is it possible that… ?’ As he related his thought to the I Ching and horoscope predictions he just read earlier, he became restless. He then said to David Winkler, who was preparing to leave the study room, ‘Do they have witch doctors or shamans in the Middle East who can send rain to particular locations?’

David Winkler was amazed to hear the question. ‘Shamans… Sending rain… ?’ But after a while, he got the idea directly. ‘You know, for the hologram show in Borneo we are hiring what we call pawangs. They are local specialists in chasing the rain away or better to keep the good weather during the ceremony.’

‘Our embassy in Jakarta, Indonesia, also hires local pawangs regularly to avoid the rain when they have open-air activities such as garden parties or topping off of construction projects,’ he continued. ‘I’ll ask my secretary to gain information on that subject.’

David continued. ‘Yes, of course, there might be Indonesian ISIS militants involved in Battalabad . . .’

David then handed him two gift boxes. ‘By the way, these are the Woodstock bandanas from eBay you ordered for your daddy’s birthday.’

JB opened the gift boxes. He spread the two pieces of clothes with psychedelic colors combined with the stars and stripes motif. He folded one of the bandanas and then shoved it in his pocket and put the other cone back into the gift box. ‘My dad will certainly be happy when he can recall the flower-power good old times . . .’

After David Winkler left, JB opened his I Ching menu on his smartphone again. He clicked the Yin Yang icon, and when he saw the prediction, he became more nervous. ‘Bad fortune with disasters and great loss. Frustrations lead to antagonisms and broken relationships. Endure the sufferings until the cycle passes.’

He went to the desk on the wall and poured a glass of water from the water glass pot and then drank it slowly. He then sat on the sofa in front of his desk and started studying the oriental subjects on the table. They were gifts from the sultanate of Yogyakarta, Indonesia, when he visited the palace seven years ago – a three-inch gold mask of Majapahit Kingdom era of the fifteenth century, a Keris dagger, and a small golden snail sculpture with Arabic inscription on the skin.

The face sculpture showed a gesture as if it was smiling cynically to him. Well, who did not lately . . . ?

He was studying what the Arabic inscription on the golden snail could have meant on his hand, and while he waited for David Winkler’s further information, he switched on the small TV set on the corner. A wayang, Javanese puppet show, was shown on the screen.

The reporter appeared and announced, ‘A shadow puppet ensemble led by the Javanese wayang kulit master or Dalang Ki Anjasmoro from Yogyakarta, Central Java, Indonesia, has charmed New York. The group was due to present six performances, comprising eight gamelan players, a senior traditional Javanese singer or pesinden, and a translator.’

The puppet master threw the wayang kulit figures into the air and twirled them around behind the white screen lit up from behind while narrating the story half-singing in the Javanese language accompanied by the gamelan sound. The translation of the dialogues appeared above the white screen simultaneously from Javanese into English. JB sat down on the sofa to watch the show and put the golden snail on the pocket of his jacket.

The combination of the Golden Mask sculpture on the wall and the Javanese gamelan music brought JB into a presence with mystic surroundings in his study room. He tried to imagine the situation in the Majapahit Kingdom era in the fifteenth century, the Great Javanese Kingdom of the past. The ancient culture, the tropical landscape, the King’s palace… He felt so peaceful.

When he saw the Borneo shaman’s staff next to him, he reached to grab it and knocked it slowly on the table, imitating the dalang on the screen who rhythmically knocked on the wooden box to accentuate his dialogue. After a few beats suddenly JB felt a bit dizzy. Was the study room a bit foggy now? Or was it his eyes which were seeing blurry objects? He even smelled the fragrance of incense now.

He saw the Javanese pesinden on the screen who was now singing with a mellow voice and her image became blurry. Her voice sounded so lovable, so sweet . . .

Was it an old western song she was singing now? Oh my god, she sounded like Annette Hanshaw! ‘How I’m hoping tonight you’ll go… Go to the right window… Scatter your light, say I’m all right, please do… Tell him that I’m blue and lonely… Dreamy Carolina moon . . .’

Yes, it was ‘Carolina Moon’. His hallucination became more intense.

When JB was suddenly struck by a powerful brightness of glaring light, his first reaction was trying to grab for the smartphone on his working desk close to him. He succeeded putting the smartphone in his pocket, but when he tried to stand up, the ocean of light forced him motionless on his chair. His arms were stretched glued to the maroon leather seat cushion and when he tried to scream for help, his voice did not come out. He tried to struggle and to break free from the invisible force that bonded him. ‘Is this nuclear war?’ he thought in panic. ‘Who is responsible for this? The ISIS, the North Korean, Iran, Israel? Or, have some aliens landed?’ JB was really upset. The color of his pale face was drowned in the glaring light.

The sound of the Javanese gamelan was still echoing in the room, now with a faster rhythm mixed with other incredible strange sounds like howling wolf, screaming monkeys, and once in a while explosions of storms of thunders and lightning were deafening his ears. ‘Am I dead?’ JB was wondering whether the sudden news from Battalabad had caused him a heart attack and now he was in his journey to who knew where. ‘Can’t be,’ he was trying to console himself. His last medical report had shown that his blood pressure was okay, and his systolic of 141 was nothing compared to the 174 he used to have some weeks before. But if this situation continued, he might as well be sure that it would not take long that he would leave this restless world.

It was the same anxious scaring feeling as each time when he was riding in a roller coaster when he was a kid. He always prayed before he got into the cart.

Now he began his prayer, ‘Our Father in heaven . . .’

Helplessly, JB was now flying on an ocean of dark clouds with storms and thunders among demon figures. A snake with dragon head opening its mouth showing its sharp teeth was ready to attack him while giant vampiric creatures were also flying nearing him.

Corpses wrapped in white burial shrouds were jumping surrounding him. He felt that his feet was held powerfully, and when he turned his head, he saw a big ape with a reddish black thick hair growing all over its body.

Weakly, JB continued his prayer, ‘And do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from evil… deliver us from evil… Oh Lord… Father in heaven… Deliver us from evil… For yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.’

All of a sudden, the chaos of gamelan sound and the other amazing sound lowered down. The howling and screaming gradually decreased into whispers of winds that decorated the only remaining sound of the gamelans. At last, the gamelan music flew very soft and soothing.

The thick, dark clouds that surrounded him were melting and transforming themselves into some thin smoke of millions of light particles. The bright light dust was gradually disappearing until JB recognized the last remaining light dust blinking here and there on his surroundings.

Among the blurry surroundings, he realized now that he could move his fingers, and he swayed his left arm and then his right arm. He moved his two feet and tried to rise from his seat. He stood up and squeezed his both eyes, trying to adjust his visibility to the objects around him. For the first time he realized that the gamelan sound had disappeared from the room, but somehow his ears could catch the sound now somewhere in the distance.

JB rushed to the door. Yes, of course, he should run to find David Winkler, who just left the room. ‘Oh my god!’ JB was totally shocked when there was no door in his study room, but he was running in an open space. He was not standing up from his study room sofa but from the earth ground. An endless green of rice fields was spread in front of him. Here and there it was decorated by flocks of coconut trees and big banyan trees.

He saw a row of three mountains in the distance. ‘Where am I?’ JB was trying to locate himself. He sat back on the ground helplessly and then grabbed his pocket and found his smartphone and touched the screen repeatedly, but there was no sound. He was wondering if any signal was available in this remote area. No signals.

However, he still can see the contents in his smartphone. JB was relieved when he checked the battery, which was still fully loaded. He was even tempted to take a shot of the beautiful tropical landscape surrounding him.

When he grabbed the other pocket, he found the psychedelic bandana for his father’s birthday, together with the bronze snail. ‘What happened to me? Am I dreaming or what? Or, is this heaven? How come heaven has a tropical setting?’ If it was heaven, then he must be relieved.

Yes, of course! It should have something to do with the gamelan sound he just heard some moments ago in his study room. He might be traveling in time and browsed into a time tunnel to get here. Or, was it an OBE? Or NDE… ? Was he becoming a Jumper? ‘Oh my god, is it Bali?’

He saw a silhouette of a building in the distance and realized that the soft gamelan sound he heard formerly was coming from that direction. He was happy to discover the signs of life. Next to the building there was a mosque, and the big square in front of the building must be the market square. Several decorations made of palm leaves were standing around the square as if there would be a festivity coming. ‘It looks similar to a Javanese palace,’ thought JB and walked on the ground path and walked towards the main building. There were small wooden houses along the path, but as he came closer to the open hall at the center, it reminded him of the pendopo he once visited a few years earlier at the palace of Yogyakarta in Java.

There was a brick wall surrounding the area and it seemed the citizens’ housing complexes around the palace served as a shield to protect the palace from enemy attacks.

‘What happened to Maudy and Grace? Where are all the Staffs? Are the FBI, CIA and NSA aware of this mysterious area?’ JB shuddered and felt goose bumps behind his neck.

He continued his walk and opened his jacket and tie. Just a few steps and he sweated already and now he rolled his sleeves. His pace became slower when he saw the building just about ten meters in front of him. He followed the brick wall to the main gate and entered the complex. ‘It is not Thailand and definitely it is not heaven!’ thought JB. It looked like the open pendopo building he visited at the Sultan’s palace in Java seven years ago and some people were sitting inside the pendopo.

Now he associated his mind that the people sitting on the floor were playing the Javanese music instruments just like at the welcoming ceremony held by the Sultan for him some years before. The architecture and the construction of the building were very old and outdated compared with the Sultan’s palace he had seen. ‘This must be a remote area deep in the village,’ thought JB realizing that there were no street lamps along the paths or around the building. It was not an asphalt street either where vehicles could drive on it.

The gamelan music sounded to him as if it was welcoming him as he stepped inside the gate approaching the front part of the building. Around twenty people were sitting on the floor playing gamelans merrily. Different than the scene he experienced at the Sultan’s palace where there were pesinden, he saw only men wearing short pants up to their knees and some of them tied a sarong cloth on their waist. They did not wear any shirts and their hair was tied on the top of their head forming a small hair knot like Mongolian wrestlers.

When JB entered the front porch of the pendopo building, a gamelan player saw him and he stopped his beat. He touched his neighbor’s shoulder and pointed at JB. This time the other gamelan player also stopped his beat and looked at JB who was now standing at the side of the open pendopo.

It took some seconds as all the gamelan players were looking at him with full surprise. JB didn’t know which of all these men he should address to for the first time because all looked similar to him.

He could have recognized the conductor if there was any. All he was doing was just nodding at them and smile. He nodded a few times to all directions, ‘Good morning, gentlemen…,’ and he was not even sure whether this was morning or afternoon.

He tried to remember the gestures he was performing at the Sultan’s palace so he put both his palms together and brought them to his face as if he was greeting them in his own way. He did this a few times.

And yes, of course, while talking one should have their hands in front of the genital as if covering it, the US Ambassador once told him. He practiced the gesture and nodded again a few times to the still astounded Javanese men. His continuous smile became a grin as no one of them answered him.

He approached a gamelan player and squatted next to him. ‘Good music…’ he commented. The Javanese man just kept silent. So did the others. Obviously everybody was amazed wondering how a white man could suddenly appear out of the blue. ‘I enjoyed