“No money, no honey.” That’s the reason Nyoman, the 26-year old who works at the family homestay at which I’m currently domeciled, offered when I asked why he wasn’t married. The last Balinese girl he dated left him, heartbroken, the moment she asked him to buy her something that he couldn’t afford. She found herself a man with more means. I told Nyoman in the U.S. we have a word for women like his ex-girlfriend. To illustrate, I hooked up my favorite new travel toy to my iPod and played for Nyoman the only Kanye West song in my music library: Gold Digger.
Nyoman is currently working at this homestay for three months, without pay, as a trial run, the owner told him. After three months, if he proves himself worthy of a salary, she says she will begin paying him. When I suggested that the end of his three-month trial coincides with the end of the tourist season and then she’d have the excuse of no customers to let him go, his big cloudy brown eyes welled up with tears that streamed over his round cheeks. He has no choice, no other employment possibilities, he explained, because he has no high school diploma. No diploma, no job.
Nyoman is the only person working here who speaks English. The owner needs him to translate the constant complaints of the tourists who stay here: there’s no hot water, the kitchen is filthy, we need towels, we’re out of coffee, we’re out of water, the giant geckos lurking on our ceilings are pooping all over our beds. The owner, a woman of perhaps 50, floats around in her Balinese lace blouses and long silk skirts, smiling, oblivious to our discontent. Nyoman runs around like one of the dozens of chickens and roosters that are a part of every family compound, trying to stay on top of our requests.
The second youngest of eight children, Nyoman has a brother who is also named Nyoman. The Balinese method of naming children is formulaic: the first child is always named Wayan, the second Made (pronounced “mah day”), the third Nyoman and the fourth Ketut. If more children are born, the naming process starts from the beginning. Nyoman has a brother and a sister named Made. This, to me, speaks volumes about Balinese culture, which seems devoid of egotism. Nyoman could use a serious ego boost, in my opinion. He is clearly suffering from low self-esteem.
I’d been warned that a drawback to staying in a Balinese family compound is the tendency for tourists to get sucked into the family drama. Of course it takes a sucker to get sucked in. Currently, in this compound, that sucker would be me. I thank God no one else here, except for the other foreigners, none of whom stick around for long, is capable of communicating with me.
Oddly, I kind of like it here, poopy geckos and all. Or, at least, I don’t dislike it. I’ve got my little routine down and I have plans to move to yogic retreat housing next month. After my first night, I switched bungalows within the compound. I am now staying in the owner’s personal part-time residence. The room I originally rented shares a wall with the temple next door, which blasts Gamelan music from 5 p.m. until midnight on the nights when the shrieks of men playing badminton along with thwacks of the birdie are not raising a raucous. I’d stressed, through Nyoman, that I need quiet. I am very sensitive, I explained.
Balinese family compounds contain their own temples. The culture here is lovely and gentle (except for the music). Central Ubud reminds me of College Avenue in Berkeley: tons of crunchy clothing boutiques, shops featuring yoga clothes and accoutrements, organic cafes, coffee shops, spas and nail salons. Bali feels like a very gentle respite from India. Life is easier here. Electricity is reliable. Roads are paved and are outfitted with traffic lights, lanes and stop signs. There are sidewalks! Compared to India, Bali is pristine. I may end up staying here much longer than I’d first anticipated. I’ve promised not to leave until I’ve helped Nyoman find a job that pays.
I think that is a very good plan..and very nice of you~ Karma Yoga in action!
I too am looking for work….would you say a little prayer for me?
He is a lucky man to have you looking out for him.BeeZoo Debbie