Invited to Dinner

After many days of spending my free time with my friend Putu, he asked me if I would kindly join his wife Nyoman, his son Gede, and himself for dinner. I jumped at the chance to eat with a real Balinese family and thanked him for the wonderful offer.

Now right off the bat, Putu told me that he and his family had very little. I took this as a kind of heads up for what was in store. I got the impression that he almost felt ashamed of what he had before I had even gotten there. I firmly believe that no one should be ashamed of what they have in life and should be proud of who they are.

At times, it’s tough to relay this message to people. I usually try to compliment them as much as possible on what they have and thank them profusely for what little they have offered me. I always do this with a smile on my face because a lot can be lost in the translation. I also graciously accept anything that one offers me. Unfortunately this has gotten me sick twice, but it’s still no consolation to the pride they feel when they are able to offer me a gift, as small as it may be.

Another thing I try to be cautious of is how they feel about having photos taken of themselves, their possessions and their surroundings while I’m there. In this case, I knew right away that Putu would rather I leave my camera at home and just come and enjoy celebrating with his family. He gave me fair warning of his meager living conditions and I took this to mean that he would like it if I didn’t capture it on film. That is the impression I got, so I obliged to his unspoken wishes and left the camera at home.

We had arranged a time of 5:00 pm to meet at my bungalow. I was really excited to meet the family I had heard so much about. Putu was a very tough, proud man who was well respected by everyone. But as soon as you would mention his eleven-year-old son Gede, he would melt and get a great big smile on his face. I could really tell he was proud of him.

Putu picked me up at a quarter to five. He was early, which never happens, so I knew he was just as excited as I was for the big event. Our first stop was down the road a block or two; to where a woman was selling freshly caught tuna fish. I asked for six fish and she proceeded to cut and gut the fish with a rusty old blade. She then washed them in a bucket of blood stained water. This was the first indication that my belly may hurt in the morning. I smiled and thanked her for the wonderful catch that was going to feed us tonight. Grinning from ear to ear with one lone tooth revealed she nodded in approval.

So with fish in hand, we hopped on Putu’s motorbike and headed off to the village. After ten to fifteen minutes of passing through windy dirt roads, we motored up a steep hill and arrived at Putu’s home. Nyoman was standing outside ready to greet us while Gede was playing football (soccer) with the neighbor boys.

Nyoman spoke very little English so we both said hello, which is also how the Indonesians greet people, with a smile and I tried to communicate how beautiful her home was and that I was very grateful for the dinner invitation.

Five minutes after I got there, some of Putu’s friends who lived nearby came over to say hello and help with the food preparation. I think that they just wanted to meet this strange white person Putu had been spending so much time with.

They started the cooking process by breaking up coconut shells and spreading them evenly on the ground and then lighting them on fire. Soon there were some nice red coals onto which they placed a metal grate. The fish were thrown on that and the cooking began.

Our meal consisted of various fruits and vegetables, rice and fish. It was a delicious feast.

Here are a couple of things I found different. The men did not eat with the women. The men ate and the women ate after we were finished. We also didn’t use utensils and we ate the whole fish from head to tail. It tasted better than I thought so that was good. I’m used to eating fish that have been cleaned and filleted. It was quite the experience and something I’ll never forget.

After dinner, we all sat around and talked. Both Ari (Putu’s good friend) and Putu worked in the tourism industry so they spoke good English. They translated the numerous questions the other friends had for me. It made for some good laughs, a lot of new things learned about on another and a good bonding of two very different cultures. The night ended with many smiles and fond farewells. It was everything I was hoping for and more.