A couple of years after I was opened (1968), the International Congress was held in Cilandak, Indonesia. I could not afford the expenses to go, but I was able to host about 20 Canadian Subud members in my home in Berkeley California USA, while they waited for their chartered airplane to be ready. I asked if they would bring me some kretek cigarettes when they got back.

A few days later I had a dream. I was on top of a large building, looking down on the events at Wisma Subud. You could see the German members jogging around the compound... Americans (USA) wandering around the place... and many more, some in groups, pairs, or alone. It was very hot and muggy, many people stayed out of the sun, fanning themselves and drinking lots of water.

Sudarto Martohudojo, an old time member and Bapak,s trusted assistant was walking quietly among the others, found a chair and placed it near a small tree. There was no shade from this tree. When some men stoped by to talk to him, they seemed to be relaxed and comfortable. I wondered why they would stand out in the sun so long just to talk to Sudarto. AS I considered this, he (Sudarto) looked up to where I was and nodded. I had no idea what that gesture meant at that time, and promply forgot about the whole thing. But the dream did give me a feeling that I did visit Cilandak, and it was very hot there.

Many years later, While living near Seattle Washington USA, I was on my way to latihan one evening when I had an inner feeling that Bapak was beckoning me, with a smile and wave of his hand, to come to visit him in Indonesia. Actually, this experience was like Bapak was up in the air hovering over Seattle. This feeling stayed with me, and touched others to help. I was to look into the enterprises that had been started there: The S Wijojo Building, and the Kalimantan situation, and report back to the membership. Before long, I had the money and plane ticket, and off to the tropics!

I took the budget flight on PanAm nonstop to Hong Kong. Stayed the night in the lobby. At about midnight the whole airport was flooded with young students, sitting everywhere, in the chairs and on the floor. They came to use the lighting so they could study their school lessons. I was awake all night. The next day, along with some giant Dutchmen and Dutchwomen, we were squeezed into the Indonesian plane headed to Jakarta. At last I could sleep. I sat next to a lovely honeymoon couple from Java. I could smell and feel the people they represented... and I fell deeply in love with the whole place and people. . . before we landed.

First time visitors to Indonesia. . . like me, get a shock as they leave the airport. A blast of hot, thick humid air fills your lungs as hundreds, thousands of thinly clad bodies cover every foot of pavement, sidewalk and bus stop...moving as a mob, but quietly, with purpose but not fast. The Dutchpeople and I were tall. We could see over the heads of the crowd. It didn't matter, though, because we were promptly and thoroughly solicited by cab drivers, venders, saints and sinners. I was told by a rep from the world bank I met in LA which taxi to take. I did as he advised and gave the driver the address with directions to Wisma Subud.

On the way you could see that Jakarta is a mixed bag of narrow streets and very large divided avenues and circular intersections ( with large monuments of military heroes built by the Russian). Rush hour is all day long. The poor are found in block after block of shanty towns with dirt paths and irrigation ditches that smell even before you get there. The rich live in Dutch Grotesque Style dwellings with heavy weight fences walls and barriers. Armed guards keep watch at the doors and gates. For transportation, they have small and large cars, taxis, big busses and small busses. The small (cheap fare) ones accommodate people no taller than 5 feet high and 1 foot wide at best. Jakarta has the largest Mosque in the world. But there are plenty more. In the rice patty areas out of town, you can see real small mosques. . . just right for the field workers, men and women. Oh, the beautifully dressed women in the patty... well that is another story.

Wisma Subud is a housing compound with fence and gentle friendly guards at an open entry way. Bapak's house in those days was on your right as you entered. Other permanent residents have there appointed place and style of house, apartment or room. In the center is the Latihan Hall and meeting place. When you do latihan there in one of the rooms there is an echo due to the masonry dome.

I over paid the taxi driver, they told me, but i didn't know better. No one met me, as appointed, so I just looked around for a while. Mashuri, an American friend, was living in small concrete floor room. I brought him some stuff he wanted. We talked had food from the street venders wraped in large green leaves, and I got filled in on the do's and do not's of the people and the compound. My room in the guest house was ok, but hot in the day, until the evening rain cooled off what seemed to be the whole country. Things got quiet when the loud speakers, echoing each other, sang out the evening call to prayers all over the city and country-side. I would go up on the roof at those times and just feel the unique and mysterious atmosphere of Java and the city.

My first night I dreamed Bapak told me to see the country and meet the people. It was a week before I met Bapak. Every new visitor is supposed to visit Bapak upon arrival. No one told me until I asked. Then I was escorted to the back door of the Big House, up the steps and put down on the sofa in the waiting room, while ladies glided in and out of the building and kitchen.

I was told to wait, Bapak would greet me on his way to work. Bapak, at that time would go the the Bank every day. His office was at the back of of Bank in the S. Wijojo building, where he would do his business and meet people. I waited, and became sleepy.

He lived upstairs and would see me when he came down to go out to his waiting car. From where I was sitting you could see the bottom of the stairs, which was about 20 feet from the waiting area. Suddenly, I was completely awake, got up and , it seems to me that I took just 2 long steps to reach Bapak. . . my right hand flung out before me ready to shake his hand. Bapak laughed and greeted me with: "Where is your home". and: "How long in Indonesia?" I answered, he smiled, turned and thats all there was to it. No big deal. Easy as pie.

Well. . . as he left I just stood there until someone told me "You can go now... you have met with Bapak". I left the way I cam in. . . through the back door like everyone else. I had listened to other people who go to Indonesia and meet Bapak and soon thereafter go into crisis. But I felt elated and quiet, as I walked slowly (the Javanese way) to my room... with a feeling of confirmation in my inner feelings. Nothing great, but definitely touched or energized smoothly and carefully, all thought my body. It was like coming home. My bed and room looked great. The servant girl who I paid to attend to my room and laundry, was really nice to me, and smiled, knowingly. I could only guess that I looked different or talked slower. When I first arrived I was still on US time. Now I was getting used to the slower Javanese way of quiet, patience time. I felt good all over.

Guest mostly stay in the guest house which was once where Bapak and family lived as Wisma Subud was first established. Long term foreign residents have built their own homes or rent from others. As is the custom, I made the rounds meeting and having tea and cake. I was delighted and in heaven. Mashuri introduced me to Sudarto one afternoon, saying you have really got to meet him. He sees right into your jiwa, and likes visitors. I was a little afraid of the seeing into my inner thing but went anyway. After introductions we had strong Bapak's brand of sweet java black tea. He looked at me and said: "your inner feeling is alive, and it is good". That surely broke the ice. Every other subject on my mind was covered by this great and loving Brother. . . always ending with laughter, a kretek, and more tea.

Because I had been a building contractor just as he was before giving it up to work for Bapak, we talked about construction, etc. I asked him to inter into a partnership and he said that it would not be balanced. . . he would be giving more than I. Anyway I was relaxed and enjoying myself. Straight away Sudarto brought out some important papers and showed me his family tree, going back to some Sultans, and a Prince. . . something like Bapak. I looked at them like one would a family album not understand anything he said, really. He appeared to actually enjoy my company.

I felt that I had been close to him (his inner) before this time. For me Bapak is way beyond my understanding. He is just too big for me to understand, as a friend, that is. But Sudarto entered my feelings sometimes in the latihan. I could feel a little of how he stood, or folded his arms. . . little things like that. Once in a dream I was sitting on a large sofa facing a great illuminated window like what you might see at and airport. Bapak was on one side and Sudarto on the other. I looked up to see an electrical wire with a light bulb at the bottom, like the ones in old houses from the 1920-40 period. As I wondered what this was all about, Bapak nudged me and indicated that I should fix the light. I reached up, and just as I touched it, the light came on. Then Sudarto put a broken radio in my lap, pointing to it, then looking up to me with a question on his face? I touched it and it began to make music . . . followed by a cheer and praise from my two companions. Sudarto gave me his usual look of approval with a smile in his eyes. Any wonder why I became and electrical contractor?

After meeting Bapak and Sudarto . . . every day for about a month and a half, became a new adventure. I met some bigshots in the government, and got a pass to a research center for rice, toured S.Wijojo Building, helped feed some poor people, got caught in a rain storm, walked all over town, went on a trip to the seacoast, traveled to Central Java, My faith was tested more than once, Met some spooks and gosts, some very old subud members, and did latihan with lots of people. But that is another Subud Story. ..

I consider myself as a beginner in Subud, just starting out, so to speak. I know this to be the truth, because I have witnessed, so some degree what more experienced Subud members are about, and I am not. I don't praise them, I praise God. The latihan hall at Wisma Subud has a large dome roof overhanging a porch (veranda) on the sides. Latihans are ( were, at that time) scheduled, but not necessarily timed. One would just come in and do your latihan, and leave when it was over. I did latihan with Indonesians, Germans, Dutch, Indians, French, Japanese, Australians, and others. . . in that hall. I witnessed Raymond Lee's latihan just before his marriage. Helped to stabilize a member who was in crises. Sat outside the hall after latihan with the men just watching it rain.

One evening, it was very hot. I washed myself, in the usual way, with water from a systern and a pot to pore over my head, etc... I would go to latihan regardlesss of the heat. A few men were already quieting themselves in the little hall when I came in. As the men began, I just stood their wondering how they can stand this heat. How could you surrender under these conditions? I was already sweeting like a pig. I briefly looked up and saw Sudarto enter the room. Mashuri had told me to not exptect Sudarto to attend the latihan. Well there he was. Now I surely could surrender, could I not? I saw his arms fold as the Muslems begin to pray. I closed my eyes and asked God for help.

Well, folks, we now come to the end of my little story. God did help me, and the others in that hot stuffy room. And I knew who was at the bottom of it. Sudarto's latihan was quiet and personal, but the effects were quite cool. And I do mean cool, as in air conditioner cool. Maybe it was just a spiritual cool, but the air got cooler and pleasant, just right for us westerners to be able to surrender to God Almighty, The Sustainer Of All the Worlds. I told this to Mashuri. He said "Oh yes Sudarto does this periodically, did you not know?" Now, as I remember the dream of Sudarto sitting in the sun, and his familiar nod to me, I reflect on all that has happened, and remember how grateful I am for Subud, Bapak and (may he rest in piece) Brother Sudarto. Amen farlan Sudarto Martohudojo gave up his contracting business in order to work for Bapak answering letters and doing office work.

Amen

with love and good will to all,

farlan