The Long Trip Home: Archives

It was with much light-heartedness that I accepted an invitation for breakfast from Tjioe Tek. She was a Javanese-Chinese woman whom I had met some years earlier. As I meandered to her house, I passed food vendors selling all variety of steamed, sated and fried delights, begging me to try them. But, as I was on my way to breakfast, I passed them up, and by the time I reached Tjioe’s house I was famished! After walking past rows of pasty looking chickens desperately trying to give birth to eggs, I was invited to sit in a small family area at the rear of the house.

"Try this whilst your breakfast is cooking" Tjioe said, handing me what resembled beef jerkey. Tjioe sat in front of me with a whimsical expression on her face.

"Certainly is chewy. What is it?." I inquired graciously, as a now well-chewed and rounded dark portion slid down my gullet. She laughed and I feared for my stomach.

"Paru-paru." Tjioe went on to tell me, leaving me less enlightened. My puzzled expression caused a translation from Tjioe. "Oh, that’s just dried Buffalo lungs. They strip the inner layer of the lung then dry it in the sun." My appetite began to dissipate. "I’ll fetch breakfast now. It should be ready. I hope you are hungry Barrie." I offered no reply but smiled and rubbed my stomach as an indication to her. I invisioned Tjioe entering the room carrying a sunburnt cow carcass, but instead she had a tray with two bowls of soup on it.

Tjioe passed me the bowl and a spoon that had seen better days. I smiled and then peered into the bowl looking for anything that moved or was threatening. "This looks…er…delicious." I gazed once more and with a steady hand allowed the spoon to do my searching beneath the darkened liquid. Meanwhile, Tjioe was happily gulping away, occasionally smiling up at me. It resembled vegetable soup. However my concern was for the circular pieces of a dangerous-looking unknown substance that was glaring up at me from the bowl. Adventurous as I was, I took a mouthful, a grind of my molars and a swallow. "Hey, this is nice Tjioe. A bit crunchy, but nice." After devouring the entire contents of the bowl, Tjioe asked if I wanted more. I declined but asked her apprehensively what the tasty soup was.

"Oh that’s just Buffalo eye soup. Very delicious and nutritious." All I could do was smile in agreement and try to stem the tightening of my stomach muscles.

Curiosity got the better of me – as it always does – and I asked Tjioe about this Buffalo feast or part thereof. She explained that every part of a Buffalo is eaten.

"Every part?" I asked, as I crossed my legs.

"Every part Barrie. If it can’t be boiled or steamed or fried, then it is stripped and dried in the sun. Tjioe was fascinated by my interest and quickly rose to her feet and went into the kitchen area. She returned with a plate of claw-like things. At first I didn’t take much notice. "It’s the same with chickens Barrie. Every part is used for something. Try one of these. They are nice to chew on." I gazed at the fried chicken feet on the plate, imagining what the chicken had walked in the day before its execution. Tjioe laughed at my decline of her gracious offer.

On my travels in Indonesia, I have tasted just about everything there is to taste. In Bali I ate fried crickets, frogs and eels from the padi fields. Java, instead, holds others delights. In the north of the island I have eaten sated rat (unbeknown to me!), cat and even dog. I enjoyed eating snake and found it to have a taste similar to chicken. In Sumatra, I ate ground cockroach mixed in a corn bread and never knew until I was later told. The rule is, in Indonesia, if it walks, crawls, slithers or flies, then it’s edible!

Despite all of my food adventures, the Buffalo eye soup of Tjioe’s was the hardest for my stomach to take. No matter how hard I tried to explain to Tjioe that I was a vegetarian, somehow she never believed me. It figures. I was never very good at telling lies!

Other articles by Barrie Lie-Birchall:

• Bali: a photojournal

• Parangtritis—A Beach Not Too Far

• Isadora—Street Queen of Yogyakarta

• Faces From a Journal

• Rain Crazed on Malioboro