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- Элизабет Гилберт
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- Ешь, молись, люби
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The
Balinese
family
unit
,
enclosed
within
the
walls
of
a
family
compound
,
is
merely
everything
-
four
generations
of
siblings
,
cousins
,
parents
,
grandparents
and
children
all
living
together
in
a
series
of
small
bungalows
surrounding
the
family
temple
,
taking
care
of
each
other
from
birth
to
death
.
The
family
compound
is
the
source
of
strength
,
financial
security
,
health
care
,
day
care
,
education
and
-
most
important
to
the
Balinese
-
spiritual
connection
.
The
family
compound
is
so
vital
that
the
Balinese
think
of
it
as
a
single
,
living
person
.
The
population
of
a
Balinese
village
is
traditionally
counted
not
by
the
number
of
individuals
,
but
by
the
number
of
compounds
.
The
compound
is
a
self
-
sustaining
universe
.
So
you
don
’
t
leave
it
.
(
Unless
,
of
course
,
you
are
a
woman
,
in
which
case
you
move
only
once
-
out
of
your
father
’
s
family
compound
and
into
your
husband
’
s
.
)
When
this
system
works
-
which
it
does
in
this
healthy
society
almost
all
the
time
-
it
produces
the
most
sane
,
protected
,
calm
,
happy
and
balanced
human
beings
in
the
world
.
But
when
it
doesn
’
t
work
?
As
with
my
new
friend
Wayan
?
The
outcasts
are
lost
in
airless
orbit
.
Her
choice
was
either
to
stay
in
the
family
compound
safety
net
with
a
husband
who
kept
putting
her
in
the
hospital
,
or
to
save
her
own
life
and
leave
,
which
left
her
with
nothing
.
Well
,
not
exactly
nothing
,
actually
.
She
did
take
with
her
an
encyclopedic
knowledge
of
healing
,
her
goodness
,
her
work
ethic
and
her
daughter
Tutti
-
whom
she
had
to
fight
hard
to
keep
.
Bali
is
a
patriarchy
to
the
end
.
In
the
rare
case
of
a
divorce
,
the
children
automatically
belong
to
the
father
.
To
get
Tutti
back
,
Wayan
had
to
hire
a
lawyer
,
whom
she
paid
with
every
single
thing
she
had
.
I
mean
-
everything
.
She
sold
off
not
only
her
furniture
and
jewelry
,
but
also
her
forks
and
spoons
,
her
socks
and
shoes
,
her
old
washcloths
and
half
-
burned
candles
-
everything
went
to
pay
that
lawyer
.
But
she
did
get
her
daughter
back
,
in
the
end
,
after
a
two
-
year
battle
.
Wayan
is
just
lucky
Tutti
was
a
girl
;
if
she
’
d
been
a
boy
,
Wayan
never
would
have
seen
the
kid
again
.
Boys
are
much
more
valuable
.
For
the
last
few
years
now
,
Wayan
and
Tutti
have
been
living
on
their
own
-
all
alone
,
in
the
beehive
of
Bali
!
-
moving
from
place
to
place
every
few
months
as
money
comes
and
goes
,
always
sleepless
with
worry
about
where
to
go
next
.
Which
has
been
difficult
because
every
time
she
moves
,
her
patients
(
mostly
Balinese
,
who
are
all
on
hard
times
themselves
these
days
)
have
trouble
finding
her
again
.
Also
,
with
every
move
,
little
Tutti
has
to
be
pulled
out
of
school
.
Tutti
was
always
first
in
her
class
before
,
but
has
slipped
since
the
last
move
down
to
twentieth
out
of
fifty
children
.
In
the
middle
of
Wayan
’
s
telling
me
this
story
,
Tutti
herself
came
charging
into
the
shop
,
having
arrived
home
from
school
.
She
’
s
eight
years
old
now
and
a
mighty
exhibition
of
charisma
and
fireworks
.
This
little
cherry
bomb
of
a
girl
(
pigtailed
and
skinny
and
excited
)
asked
me
in
lively
English
if
I
’
d
like
to
eat
lunch
,
and
Wayan
said
,
"
I
forgot
!
You
should
have
lunch
!
"
and
the
mother
and
daughter
rushed
into
their
kitchen
and
-
with
the
help
of
the
two
shy
young
girls
hiding
back
there
-
produced
sometime
later
the
best
food
I
’
d
tasted
yet
in
Bali
.
Little
Tutti
brought
out
each
course
of
the
meal
with
a
bright
-
voiced
explanation
of
what
was
on
the
plate
,
wearing
a
huge
grin
,
generally
just
being
so
totally
peppy
she
should
’
ve
been
spinning
a
baton
.
"
Turmeric
juice
,
for
keep
clean
the
kidneys
!
"
she
announced
.
"
Seaweed
,
for
calcium
!
"
"
Tomato
salad
,
for
vitamin
D
!
"
