Читать книгу On the Edge of a Dream - Michael Wiese - Страница 13

Chapter 6

LEARNING TO SPEAK

A few days later in Denpasar, I find a student handbook on shadow puppetry. They actually teach shadow puppetry in the university here. The book is written in Indonesian and printed on cheap newsprint. It’s almost a comic book. Maybe I can figure it out. Several dozen of the main characters are identified. Let’s see. There’s Bima, Arjuna, Semar, Sangut, Delum, Murdah. I recognize these characters from Gedé’s performance. I also buy an Indonesian dictionary. If I dont learn some more Indonesian, I won’t get anywhere.

Eddie’s way ahead of me. I guess you have to know lots of languages if you are going to convert the world.

Eddie’s genius is apparent. He is already clicking into the Indonesian language much faster than I am. He knows six languages: French, Italian, German, Russian, Hebrew, and Greek.

We sit at a warung which Eddie calls his “language lab.” I think he likes it because of the Javanese girl that runs it. She’s impressed with him.

It’s not long before some old men and boys start gathering around, fascinated by Eddie. I study his technique.

He hears a new word spoken and speaks it back immediately. Sometimes he deliberately changes the sound to see how far he can go before it becomes another word. For example, he’ll say the first part of a word, like “ku,” and then see how many varieties with meanings he can find… kuning (yellow), kunir (saffron), kunjah (to chew), kuno (old-fashioned), kuntji (lock), kuping (ear), kupu (butterfly), kura (land tortoise). He may learn six or more words at a time, which then quickly becomes a permanent part of his vocabulary. Then he’ll try to make a nonsensical sentence out of the words he’s just learned. The kids love these games. He winks at the girl. She winks back.

I have to say one word over and over to myself and then think how to use it and what it means. I give myself a visual image to jog my memory. The Indonesian word for sleep is “tidur,” so I visualize a large letter “T” painted onto a door. This seems to work fairly well, but then I have to remember the visualization and the sound that accompanies it before I get the word I want. Seems like the long way around.

Eddie is very confident, as the girl serves him another tea.

“The trouble with you is you’re afraid to try.”

He’s right. I might get it wrong. When I was in Hong Kong, I was hanging out with a Chinese rock band. They had a lot of fun teaching me slang words. We went out to a restaurant, and I ordered “a woman’s private parts with a raw egg over rice in a bowl.”

The waitress freaked, and so did I.

“The people are more forgiving here,” says Eddie. “You can really screw up, even insult them, and they’ll blame it on not enough offerings, not you.”

I do love Eddies fearlessness. You’d think being cooped up in a seminary for years you’d lose your edge. With Eddie it’s just the opposite. He’s ready to try anything.

Me? I feel softened being in Bali. In San Francisco I was assertive. I got it done. I invented midnight movies. At twenty-two, I’d made a film that went to Cannes! I was about to make another film until the draft got me. But here, I don’t have a clue. I think it’s better to cool out and watch until I’ve learned the ropes.

Not so for Eddie. He’s diving in head first. He’s always ‘on.’ Talking it up with the guys, flirting with the girls, coming up with ideas, excited, ready for action. He loves to be the center of attention, provoke a reaction, and make friends. I leave Eddie at the warung and go off toward the beach.

I walk a few kilometers down the beach, then circle back through the interior. Near Kuta village, I come upon two farmers. One is leading his water buffalo back to the village; the other carries a huge bundle of grass. We meet on a small path. Their faces are clamped tight as walnuts, until I say “salamat sore” (good afternoon), and then their faces explode with humor and love.

It takes an enormous amount of energy. The sights, the smells, the sounds. The strangeness of everything. I frequently have to stop, rest, just catch my breath. There are people everywhere. And they are always looking, watching, engaging us. Thousands of eyes upon us.

I head back to the homestay to refresh myself after my adventures.

As I walk in the door, I interrupt Eddie and the warung girl. Eddie has his back to me. The girl is lying on the bed naked. Eddie sits on the side of the bed and talks to her. She doesn’t seem to understand what Eddie wants and keeps trying to make love to him. Eddie backs away. I leave them alone and walk back down the beach.

A few hours later I return and say to Eddie, “congratulations.”

“Congratulations, what?”

“You slept with her?”

“Well, not exactly…but could have.”

“Could have?”

“If I wanted to.”

“You didn’t want to?”

“No.”