One night in Bangkok and the feminist is in overdrive
And I wouldn't say the world is my oyster exactly because of it (a reference to a very 80's pop song for the babes amongst you), but it feels like a third of the way through a round the world ticket and three months into my travelling, it is anyway. My five hours in the airport, (which due to a lack of local currency and pin for my UK bank account - I am confined to), are whittling away nicely.
Leaving Bali was bitterswet. It's been amazing, I have sorted school for two kids (at a cost I reckon of around twenty quid / fifty aussie dollars a month each), thanks to Jo, Clarence and Mum for helping me do that. The kids are over the moon, the cost has come down as they and their families intend them to work after it so we don't need to compensate for loss of earnings. I got Ngurah to come with me and talk to the families. Little did I know as I got him involved in agreeing to buy uniforms and deliver administration fees direct to the schools that the father of one of the kids (little Wyang, the extrovert five year old) was a drunkard who had punched Ngurah in the face and threathened to kil him. To his credit he came and spoke to the wife and was lovely with Wyang without mentioning any of this until after the event.
The family life of small Wyang and her mother, big Wyang (number one kid for those of you not taking notes!) sounds pretty horrifffic. Big Wyang is eight months pregnant, has a hubby who drinks and smokes, sends her and her five year old out to work and sits on his not inconsiderable arse spending their money whilst they do so. Big Wyang will work up until a week before the birth of her second child and be back at work within a month. Little Wyang will work through to keep the family going whilst mum is off.
It's a pretty sorry state of affairs for Balinmese women, Bigamy is still legal (naturaly just for the chaps), Domestic Violence is rife and there are a lot of men who do bugger all whilst the women raise the kids and earn the money. The Wyangs not only earn the money in their household but get home and cook the supper to boot.
Add in the facts that good Balinese girls don't drink, smoke, dress sexily or have sex before marriage, that kids born out of wedlock bring disgrace on the families and the only thing being a girl has going for you is that the boys have to pay for weddings and keep the parents when they get too old to work.
Naturally my feminist side is going into overdrive and the boys around me have heard in no uncertain terms what I think of all that. That's before we even start on the whole periods equally uncleanlines stuff that stinks to me of mysogny that no-one even bothered to disguise. Chuck in the fact abortion is illegal, and therefore performed in backstreet clinics, and the gypsy is glad to be Western. At least as a Westerner you get cut the slack to smoke, drink and dance without questions even if I have learnt it's wise to be respectful with your dress outisde of Western venues.
Having said I have met some fabulous hard working Balinese men in the boys I have been hanging out with. I am also loving the fact that unlike their Western counterparts the men in Bali have no embarrassement about giving each other a hug, wandering down the street arm in arm or just generealy showing affection to each other in the way women do in the West.
Anyway, leaving the place was an emotional experience. I love it, feel very at home there, I think it's somewhere I can make a real difference in a number of ways, and I plan to return, probably on a permenant basis when I have exhausted the rest of my ticket.
For now though my thoughts are focxused on home, I will be there in around nineteen hours and am looking forward with much excitement to catching up with my freinds and family. Watch out London / Crowhurst, the gypsy is coming hom and she's in fine spirits and going through a dance till you drop stage.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Leaving Bali was bitterswet. It's been amazing, I have sorted school for two kids (at a cost I reckon of around twenty quid / fifty aussie dollars a month each), thanks to Jo, Clarence and Mum for helping me do that. The kids are over the moon, the cost has come down as they and their families intend them to work after it so we don't need to compensate for loss of earnings. I got Ngurah to come with me and talk to the families. Little did I know as I got him involved in agreeing to buy uniforms and deliver administration fees direct to the schools that the father of one of the kids (little Wyang, the extrovert five year old) was a drunkard who had punched Ngurah in the face and threathened to kil him. To his credit he came and spoke to the wife and was lovely with Wyang without mentioning any of this until after the event.
The family life of small Wyang and her mother, big Wyang (number one kid for those of you not taking notes!) sounds pretty horrifffic. Big Wyang is eight months pregnant, has a hubby who drinks and smokes, sends her and her five year old out to work and sits on his not inconsiderable arse spending their money whilst they do so. Big Wyang will work up until a week before the birth of her second child and be back at work within a month. Little Wyang will work through to keep the family going whilst mum is off.
It's a pretty sorry state of affairs for Balinmese women, Bigamy is still legal (naturaly just for the chaps), Domestic Violence is rife and there are a lot of men who do bugger all whilst the women raise the kids and earn the money. The Wyangs not only earn the money in their household but get home and cook the supper to boot.
Add in the facts that good Balinese girls don't drink, smoke, dress sexily or have sex before marriage, that kids born out of wedlock bring disgrace on the families and the only thing being a girl has going for you is that the boys have to pay for weddings and keep the parents when they get too old to work.
Naturally my feminist side is going into overdrive and the boys around me have heard in no uncertain terms what I think of all that. That's before we even start on the whole periods equally uncleanlines stuff that stinks to me of mysogny that no-one even bothered to disguise. Chuck in the fact abortion is illegal, and therefore performed in backstreet clinics, and the gypsy is glad to be Western. At least as a Westerner you get cut the slack to smoke, drink and dance without questions even if I have learnt it's wise to be respectful with your dress outisde of Western venues.
Having said I have met some fabulous hard working Balinese men in the boys I have been hanging out with. I am also loving the fact that unlike their Western counterparts the men in Bali have no embarrassement about giving each other a hug, wandering down the street arm in arm or just generealy showing affection to each other in the way women do in the West.
Anyway, leaving the place was an emotional experience. I love it, feel very at home there, I think it's somewhere I can make a real difference in a number of ways, and I plan to return, probably on a permenant basis when I have exhausted the rest of my ticket.
For now though my thoughts are focxused on home, I will be there in around nineteen hours and am looking forward with much excitement to catching up with my freinds and family. Watch out London / Crowhurst, the gypsy is coming hom and she's in fine spirits and going through a dance till you drop stage.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
posted by The Gypsy @ 11:09 PM
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