The Remote Village- Jere - we can't even find it on the local maps here

'After what appeared to be hours of discussion, and tooing and fro-ing, and Esther, Hanna ( the Bule teacher) Litje, the mission all rounder, and the others, it was decided that 

A. We would go the the teacher's house for tea.

Where we had amongst other wonderful food, golden syrup dumplings, and custard, and wonderful conviviality, for which the 'girls' dressed up.  Nathalie thought she could borrow Lisa's ( 5 foot and a little bit) dress.

NOT

And B.  We would somehow go to a place called Jere.  This is a Muslim village, several hours away, we think to the north.  Now the large scale maps on the walls here don't even show this place.  The hospital visits this village once a month to take TB and other medication, and it is 2 hours by 'fast boat' and five hours by road.  The seas are still a bit high for the boat so it seems the road is the way.

No bookings have been made, but are told that traditional hospitality will provide for us, as long as we are appropriately respectful, which we have no doubt we can achieve.

Jere

Starting on time from Hohidai( as per the Indonesian horologigical society standards) we set off wit Litje. Hannah, and Ato, as our driver.

Well..... Due to start at 1000hrs, we got to the 'base' at 0900 hrs to do some internet stuff.

1045- still waiting for Litje to come back from Tobello, where she had Togo to do the shopping

1100- still waiting

1115- leave the base 

1130-return to the base because the medications had been forgotten

1200-arrive at Tobello and seek to get some lunch.  Nothing ready to eat, ordered nasi goering, 

1230-assured that there is a car waiting for us at Tobello, port.

1245- galaxy supermarket get ice creams and drinks waiting for lunch to be ready.

1250- lost Litje - in the market getting food to give as gifts, and a huge sack of watermelon.

1310-at port the car isn't there, so we have lunch

A useless phrase to learn in Indonesia.

Waspadalah terhadap gunung es di Teluk

(beware of  icebergs in the bay)

While waiting for the car to take us to Jere, we were loitering in front of a 'homewards/bed" shop, and the proprietor found several chairs, placed them out and insisted we sit, even sourcing some spoons for us to eat our previously purchased lunch.   There was a catch, he wanted his photo taken with the Bule, especially the blonde white woman (perawat).....

Picture with the white woman.... The other one he was hugging her!!! 

The car we contracted was a form of Toyota, about the size of a Prado, but 2 WD for the seven of us.    It was difficult to see through the windscreen due to the coating of strings of little fluffy toys, solid window tint six inches wide along the top.  There was a 20 litre water container (not Jerry can) of petrol in the area behind the back Dickie seat, and the roof was piled high with food and medicines as gifts for the village ( food about $10 worth, of fruit)

Just putting the fuel IN the boot.

The journey out of Tobello was still in Indonesian time...."whenever".  Stop one, at the tyre shop to replace the unroadworthy spare tyre, with the unroadworthy spare tyre, which was pretty handy, as you will see later.

After about 20 minutes and a major river crossing we had the blow out on the rear right tyre, it led to a closer inspection of the other four tyres.  Rear left...good tread, apparently balanced, no scrubbing or unusual wear patterns.

           Rear right..the replacement tyre...not roadworthy, but had some tread on the outer edge.

            Front left...good for skid pan work, no tread on it.

             Front right.. No good for skid pan work, as the metal threads poking through would have caused a bit of friction as it grabbed the road.

The dead tyre was just thrown on the roof( not rack) and tied up.

After a quick roadside conference, and consideration of alternate forms of transport

Alternate firm of transport that passed us whilst fixing the tyre.

The dead tyre

It was decided that we would continue with this vehicle, as long as the driver travelled no faster than 50 kph, and that he get at least two replacement tyres before going much further.

Litje did some good work and the driver agreed that his village was "only half an hour away and he would get a change of tyres there". I think his nose was growing about that one, because when we got to "his village " two hours later, the car from which the replacement tyres were to be obtained! was 'not there" .   

Eight of us (including the driver) in this vehicle was a bit of a squeeze, with Sandie, Hannah and Litje squashed in the back, Nathalie Andrew and Lisa luxuriating in the middle seat and Kevyn navigating in the front.  Every time we stopped, and there were lots of them, we had to get out and uncompress, get some blood flowing, and it was at times,  like hearing kittens, getting everybody back in with Sandie first etc....the journey cost us about $8.00 each.

Bule. As we travelled through most of the villages, after it was dark, the driver turned the interior lights on, we imagine, to show that he was carrying Bule or foreigners.  

Regardless of his disregard of every road rule, we are used to relating to vehicle road-worthiness,  his almost incessant smoking, spitting regularly out the window, and him telling us porky pies about the replacement tyres, he was an excellent and safe driver.  He was intimately familiar with the road, and not once did we hit a pot hole hard, ( there were hundreds ) , a large puddle in a hurry ( tens thereof) , stuck in a rapidly flowing river crossing ( there were at least 20 small ones and 3 major ones)  or stuck halfway up, or down major grades, of which there were many.  

Towards the end of the journey, most of the road was along basic jungle tracks! which would get very hairy if the weather turned wet.  ( which it should have well and truly done at this time of the year.)

That bloody flashing seat belt light....very annoying, and no doubt if we could have found both ends we would have worn them.  Seat belts don't happen here.

As you can see above, it was not without its adventures.

We made it to Jere, which is about as far north as  one can go on Halmahera.  From the village you can see the island of  Motatae .   It is a Muslim fishing village, still using hand carved outrigger canoes.  The Main Street is a single landed concrete lane which  runs along the beach front with a row of houses between the ocean and the road.  

The Main Street of Jere 

Arriving after dark, we were taken to the  Kepella's (sp.?) or village leader's house where the welcome could not have been warmer.

                           

                              Not the way we were greeted( far side gallery 5)

We were almost immediately fed a lovely rice and noodle meal, sweet black tea, and smokey water.  The water is smokey because for some reason all water is still boiled.  The chief.s house literally has it's back door three metres from the ocean. There is a 1.5 m sea wall there, but I think given a good storm, his substantial concrete and brick house would cop a bit from the sea. 

Back of the Kepella's home

I was really tricking about the head hunter bit, I have no idea, what the  traditional native customs are here. All we experienced was abject and respectful  hospitality.

Nathalie and I, because we are married ( and have been for a million  years) were given a room in the house of the Kalabah's son, and daughter in law  Probably his bed. The four 'girls' in one room in the chief's house, probably displacing part of the family there, and Kevyn sharing a room with the men in the bosses house. It would be very hard for us to offer the same relative value of hospitality at our homes.

The married persons quarters

Due to the esteem with which we as visitors are held, we were only permitted to use the (newly built) toilet in the Kepella's house, which was three doors away, and on the other side of the road.

Our bedroom, probably the best room in the house, was very comfortable, albeit very open, and bright room, with a bed and mattress.  

Come 0500 hrs, one of our party (either Nathalie or Andrew) had need to go to the little house.  This person would not go by herself. So the both of us were wandering through this village, pre-dawn to go to the dunny.  The door to the Chief's house was locked, so plan B was enacted, and finished with one minute to spare before the call-to-prayer was announced.

The breakfast did create some problems, because we were expected to eat at another home, but went back to the bosses home. 

First call was a wander down the Main Street, up a path to a lovely waterfall, past Nutmeg , coconut (Palm) trees, then back to town for the impromptu Klinik, where mostly fungal skin conditions, and a lovely old lady, who had previously entertained us with a drum solo from her front door, with what was clearly an arthritis condition.   

We also made the time, to follow the hoards of children to the primary school, which was about 50 m above the village, with an amazing view of the Morotai sea. It seems that because there was Bule in the village, they were more fun than school.

We left the village with the boss telling us we would be welcomed back, and if we come back we will stay at his home.

Having dismissed the driver and especially his car, we contracted a local man to take us in his fast boat, further north to the island of Morotai, a two hour journey. This was to cost us r1.5m~ $150.00 between the six of us.

Surprisingly Indonesians are not renowned swimmers( go on name the last Indonesian Olympic swimmer!). The pale looking one is Litje our guide colleague, and not a good seafarer

We stopped on a coral island  Dodola, for a swim and look around.  It was  tremendously blue and clear but the coral reef was on the other side of the island. Then a short hop to a nearby island of Kolorae, for fuel, then to Morotai with minutes to spare to catch the Tobello  ferry.   Worried by the arrival of two military policemen, were pleasantly surprised to see that just wanted to help us scramble over to the jetty.

The KMS Gorongo is a car ferry, and the car floor had several trucks, many motorcycles, and hundreds of locals set up with their sleeping mats, the next two floors were enclosed, smokey and LOUD.....they love their loud music. 

The car deck

For our outrageously expensive. $1.70 ea for out 3 hr journey,  we were invited not only to the bridge deck( where one has to take one's shoes off as it is the 'master's' home) but to the shady side.  Maybe because we were the only white people on board?  Even if it was only sitting on the floor, it was lovely.  The girls, did, however, stretch the welcome, and clear the deck, by changing into dry clothes under sarongs.

 And having a Nanna nap on the deck....  Ohhhh!