Alhamdulillah!

This morning, as I was walking past the traditional market, on the way to school, a random vendor/becak driver/loafer started yelling out to me “Good morning Meester John! Good morning Meester John!” as if it was the funniest thing in the world. Well, I suppose it was.

I couldn’t be more relieved at the “hello Mister where are you going?” and the “why do you love me?” that were shouted at me as I walked down the street today, because it causes me to remember that in my neighborhood, and hopefully in Malang, nothing has changed after the execution of the Bali Bombers this past Sunday.

From Sunday afternoon until Monday night, I was scared shitless. I’ve sort of loved throwing it in everyone’s face that I’m probably safer in Indonesia than I would be in America because as a whitey, I’ve really got special status in the city and people go completely out of their way to help and take care of me. On Sunday, though, I really wondered if this was true in the least. We received both an SMS and an email from the Embassy informing us that the Bali Bombers were executed and that before they died they made a public statement asking Indonesian Muslims to make revenge attacks…on whom—whether the government itself or just any ole’ white person—I’m not sure.

But I will say it inspired absolute terror in my mind and heart. My thinking went something like this: at least a hundred people outside my immediate friends and colleagues know where I live, whether it’s because they’ve driven me home (taxi men, ojek men) or because they’ve asked me, and I’ve told them the general vicinity (stupid, stupid Tori). I know that in Indonesia any information about a bule in town passes from person to person like the flu. And I realized that if there are any “extremist” jihadist Muslims in Malang or the surrounding area (the scientist who created the ‘bali bomb’ lived less than an hour from me), they’d only have to ask a few people to find out where the bules lived and bomb our houses.

It sounds crazy, but unfortunately it’s a distinct possibility. The police here are ineffective enough that it'd be at least decently easy for some crazy guy who discovered that a bule lives in Sawojajar (and everyone in my neighborhood knows where the bule lives) to throw some sort of home made explosive on my front yard. But after my tears and anxiety subsided enough for me to spend time talking to some pretty conservative, devout Muslims in the community, I’ve come to the understanding that while it is possible that there could be a revenge attack, it’s far from probable. I am being watched like a hawk by my neighbors, teachers, and even the police force in charge of foreign nationals, so if anything is in the works, they’d likely have an idea of it before it was executed. Here’s to hoping.