Sumba Happiness Journey

A Russian Heritage school I’m teaching at participates in an environmental project aimed at cleaning the oceans from plastic. We collect plastic bottles used throughout the year and recycle them. It was through this project that I met another Russian woman, Nadezhda Lei, who changed my life forever. Together with her daughter Claudia, Nadezhda has been collecting plastic bottles, exchanging them for money, and donating it to a few orphanages on Sumba during their annual trips. Nadezhda is an orphan herself. Raised in an orphanage in the former USSR, she feels the urge to help kids who are as she once was to have the opportunity for a better life.

Touched by Nadezhda’s story, I decided to meet her and find out more about the project. In the course of our meeting, I got so excited about the mission of their project, I offered to volunteer as a photographer. It almost felt like this trip was sent to me as an answer to my quest for happiness.

BALI

My heart was pounding after we landed in Indonesia, as I breathed in the humid warm air of Bali. The plan was to spend a few days in Bali, and then fly off to Sumba.

I wanted to use this time wisely and learn more about the people of Bali. Days here starts as early as 5AM, with locals sweeping their yards and cleaning up offerings to the gods left from the night before. After this, men and women start their morning ritual of gathering flowers – mostly frangipani, - laying down fresh food and sharing it with the gods. It is mostly rice, candies, cookies and cakes. Fruits and other delicacies are offered on special occasions. After that, everything is carefully moved onto a tray, incense sticks are burnt, and sarongs and belts are worn. The ritual offering is next. It starts with the “family temple” and moves onto the yard and house. A typical Balinese household can have ten or even fifteen temples!

We soon arrived at the rice fields Jatiliwih, and it started raining heavily. I could not believe how fast the weather changed from such a hot sunny day. But the rain didn’t stop me from doing what I came here to do – photographing  breathtaking rice fields. They are a symbol of harvest and of hard work, and a gift of nature. Surely, happiness exists here, there can’t be another way, I thought as I was drenched in warm spring tears of the sky.

I’m not a fan of monkeys – and that’s putting it very mildly. But I couldn’t miss the opportunity to take their pictures. After the rice fields in the Monkey Forest, where I arrived, it was loud and hectic. Monkeys were carrying on their busy day, jumping from tree to tree, feeding baby monkeys, and being curious about visitors. My guide, an active older woman, carried a stick which she skillfully knocked on the ground from time to time to protect me from the crowd of monkeys. On my way back to the car I heard someone running towards me yelling. Turns out my guide has transformed into an avid salesperson trying to persuade me to stop by her little store and get a gift – for luck. I bought a $15 smoking monkey statue. That was how we spent our last beautiful day on Bali, and tomorrow it’s time for Sumba.

ORPHANAGE

The next morning, excited about the upcoming trip, all three of us – Nadezhda, Claudia and I – went shopping for milk products, snacks, rice and other goodies we wanted to take to the children of Sumba. There are no dairy cows there, and milk is a treat for the locals. There were four other people, including the organizer of the trip, Nailya, waiting for us at the airport, our mini volunteer crew. As it turns out, we had 140 kilograms of luggage between all of us! 

An hour later, beautiful Sumba island could be seen through the window of our little plane. Green, juicy, with cute cabins scattered around the fields. I noticed after we left the airport, I was immediately the center of the attention. For the locals, a blonde woman is a rare sight indeed. 

“And we are here!” Nailya happily chirped. We were warmly greeted by Agnes, a nun who runs the orphanage we were visiting.

Agnes is a truly hero. She has been taking care of 33 children of the orphanage all by herself, with no pay. It was her decision, and she pours her heart and soul into giving these children a chance to live.

We received small welcome gits, little towels from ikat. I took the camera out to take pictures, when Agnes approached me and started getting closer and closer to my face. I wasn’t sure what she wanted and leaned my cheek towards her, and everyone around started giggling. Turns out that touching noses is a form of greeting on Sumba! 

After this we went inside to meet the children for the first time. There was much laughter, smiles, and happiness all around. The children greeted us by taking our hands and touching their foreheads with it. After my hardworking hand touched all 33 foreheads, it was time for fun! We gave away all 140 kilograms of presents, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen kids happier receiving the gifts. Sumba is one of the poorest regions in Indonesia, and the children in the orphanage didn’t even have shoes. Seeing these presents might have been highlight of their childhood so far. This thought made me sentimental and grateful for my childhood in the USSR – which I considered to be poor too. Now I realized I was far from poor, and how privileged I was in so many ways to be holding Russian dolls or Barbie dolls.

That evening, I went to a local beach where I caught a stunning purple and orange sunset. The village boys were unfolding fish nets after a long day and curiously observing how I was taking their pictures. All of us were working at that very moment, but it didn’t feel like work. They enjoyed seeing the results of a hardworking day, and I was capturing a moment from their childhood. All of us shared a blissfully happy moment.

CHILDREN

At a dinner table one of the children asked about the mission of our project. Nailya replied that her dream is to give them better opportunities in life, and she was planning on doing it through donating money for education. 

The name of the orphanage is Hati Nurani, which in Indonesian means “Conscience”. It is the poorest orphanage on Sumba; here under the motherly wings of Agnes live thirty three children. What touched me deeply, was that most of the children have parents but their parents are too poor to take care of them. Not being able to afford having a child in the household, parents give them away to the orphanage and don’t see them for years after, if ever. Children didn’t seem to miss their parents much though. Nailya shared with me the story of a two year old girl who was dropped off at the orphanage and didn’t drop a tear after saying goodbye to her parents.

Children can stay here until they turn eighteen, but sadly many come back here because they have little chance to survive life outside the orphanage. The two most likely options are hard labor at the farms or join a local gang. It hasn’t changed for generations, and there is little way out of this never-ending circle of poverty. What children really lack are social skills, and Agnes, a woman from a small village, cannot provide them. After outside visitors started arriving at Hati Nurani, the kids first saw tooth brushes and tooth paste, pajamas, and eventually had their dorm room renovated. Knowledge of basic hygiene is a good starting point for building social skills, yet not available to many of these poor children. 

FUTURE

Talking about the future, Nailya expressed her dearest wish. She wants to motivate her children to explore other professions. Right now, five out of six girls dream about becoming teachers, and four out of five boys want to become soldiers. That’s the only things they know.

Life here has been tragically predictable in this self-perpetuating cycle - parents giving away their children to orphanages, these kids grow up and start working and sending money to their parents. Then they themselves have kids of their own they can’t support, so are forced to be given up to the orphanages, and the cycle repeats. This made me think again about how privileged we all are to be able to see our loved ones every day and have so many different opportunities to live happy and fulfilled lives. 

Our possibilities are virtually limitless but all too often we are busy being distracted by daily frustrations and boredom. 

The dinner talk was left with an open question about what can be done? Agnes and the children wanted to hear ideas that can deliver real results. Unfortunately, the answers were very hard to find because the problem here is more complex than just the destinies of thirty-three children of this one orphanage. We not only have to deal with the grinding poverty and limited resources, but also the cultural traditions dating back centuries.

TRADITIONAL VILLAGE

Getting off to bed the next morning, I was jolted by the realization that dozens of bugs had just crunched under my feet. Gosh, how I miss my comfortable hot shower in California, how perfectly ordinary it seemed back then. After a quick cold shower with mosquitoes and banana pancakes for breakfast, I depart for the traditional village. It is famous for a peculiar shape of the houses, with a combined two distinct shapes - a flat square and an elongated roof top. In general, houses here are considered to have three levels. The first one is occupied by the demons and farm animals, the second – by people, and the roof is believed to be portal into the spiritual world.

The village was located on the top of a hill, and just below it was a gorgeous, incredibly aquamarine ocean. As I got out of the car, I grabbed a cigarette. I’m not a smoker – this is a price to take a picture of the local men. And I don’t mind at all – they are a cinematographic pleasure of any travel photographer! The local children impressed me greatly with their charming, sincere smiles, priceless curiosity. Taking pictures of them was pure pleasure. 

I couldn’t miss the opportunity to check out a local bamboo house. The house had multiple levels, yet I could barely stand up straight. Luckily, the owner turned out to be a true gentleman, he held my hand as I crawled from level to level. There were no beds, just some fabrics spread through the floor like mattresses. The kitchen consisted of some large stones for making fire and was located just under the elongated roof to let the smoke out. 

The picture below shows a local woman and her niece sitting at the traditional Sumba village. You can see that her mouth is red. Sumba is known for a chewing a betel nut which makes one’s mouth red. Chewing this nut has been a cultural tradition in this region for centuries. Even though it makes teeth turn black by around forty years of age. In small doses, betel nut helps tolerate heat, and creates a sense of euphoria and alertness.

There were no toilets, locals use the forest’s natural resources. The only building that slightly resembled a restroom was a toilet built for tourists, which remained locked when not in use. Kids often surround the toilet and bring water in exchange for some coins. 

SWIMMING

The next day we took the children of the orphanage to Waikuri, a beautiful lake by the beach about half an hour away. As soon as they found out about the upcoming trip, they happily rushed to their main transportation vehicle, an old truck. To my great surprise, it could fit all thirty-five people! The lake was simply gorgeous; the aquamarine water color remained my creative muse for the rest of the day. The majority of the children didn’t know how to swim. Agnes has been taking care of them alone and taking thirty-three children to the beach is not an option. That’s why all the volunteers of our group gladly took the initiative to become swimming instructors.

While everyone was having fun at the lake, I walked around capturing everything I could. At some point, I noticed a local teen girl who looked at me curiously from the bridge. Her eyes really struck me, they were the eyes of a child forced into adulthood. After couple minutes of mutual regard, the girl warmed up to me and allowed me to take a picture of her, which became one of my favorite pictures on Sumba. 

ANOTHER ORPHANAGE

We also visited another orphanage, which is for handicapped children. There are many children with birth defects on Sumba because incest is common place here. My task was to take a portrait of each child, which will hopefully help the orphanage collect donations to cover the basic needs like hearing devices, or glasses, or even the occasional surgery. As I met the kids and took their pictures, I burst into tears a few times. The energy field there was very intense, and I was deeply touched by what I was seeing. There was a girl with no arms or feet, and the thought of being born this way through no fault of her own left me profoundly depressed. Later I found out that this girl is actually one of the most active in the orphanage. She was born like this and had adapted to her body fairly well – she moves fast, goes to school and helps out where she can. I was humbled to realize that birth defect didn’t prevent her from enjoying life. 

 Here I met an ethnography researcher who had been studying seven local dialects that are going out of existence. He mentioned that in the last week he had visited three children funerals. Children are dying here on a regular basis, mostly from Malaria and Derby Fever.

DANCING

It was raining hard on our last day on Sumba. We invited the children from the orphanage to our resort for the goodbye party. The girls were dancing in traditional red costumes while the boys were proudly holding Kabealas, traditional weapons with straight-backed blades.

My photography mission was to take children’s portraits, and the weather was not making it easy. It was pouring so heavily that I had to place the children under a small roof while remaining under the rain, holding my precious camera in a waterproof case. Luckily, I had a help from my Dutch neighbor who was holding an umbrella over me all this time. 

Along the way I noticed how the teen boys were whispering and giggling behind my back. They don’t get to see someone who look like me very often, and I thought it was cute when they almost seem to be competing for my attention. I realized that it was exactly what I needed - sincerity, kindness and warmth. 

After that we had dinner, and the volunteers observed how the older kids were taking care of the youngest. Only after they made sure that the youngest had enough food did they proceeded to feed themselves. I was shocked, in a good way, when after the dinner all thirty-three kids cleaned up their plates and the dining area, without being asked to. I don’t remember seeing such good manners back home. When it was time to say goodbye, the kids gave us big hugs and got inside their spacious beat down truck. They waved to us until the truck disappeared from the horizon. Nailya, Nadya, Claudia and I were so filled up with mixed emotions that we burst into tears together.

Will we ever see these beautiful kind children again? What destiny awaits them? How many of these children will survive childhood and early adulthood?

None of us were sure.

FINAL WORD

So, what is happiness?

I think that happiness is love, kindness, sincerity and being of service. Most importantly, happiness is the ability to accept life as it is, with all its sadness and suffering, along with joy and happiness. Happiness is living in the present moment, when you are fully aware of being alive, breathing and feeling. This trip has opened my eyes to many things. Before the trip, I habitually complained about the little things – things that I don’t have but want, something that I had but lost, something that doesn’t work but should. The people on Sumba, and on Bali in general, don’t have this problem because they don’t have many possessions. Despite extreme poverty, being separated from their families, deadly diseases and birth defects, they appear much happier than most people I know back in California. They are happier because they are not attached to things and don’t worship them. They are grateful for every single day life grants them, and they celebrate life with offerings, prayers and positive thoughts. 

Thank you, children of Sumba, for giving me a perspective on life that I never had before. I thought I was going on a trip to help you. It turned out that I, a person from a highly developed civilization, am the one who needed help the most.