Once a week the house we stay in is transformed into an efficient, large scale Jamu factory. Over 100 Javanese herbs and spices are peeled, mashed, ground, boiled, soaked, dryed, blended, encapsulated. In one bucket I am shown a root that is like ginger but with ten times the strength, a chunk of cinnamon bark the size of my arm, whole nutmeg, pepper, honey bark, and a white pomagranite fruit. Sehat, makes you strong, Woko tells me pointing to a bubbling cauldren overfolling with bright orange liquid. A team of about ten men easily work together, everyone knowing exactly what to do when, how to help each other out. It seems as though everyone is doing everything, and yet it unfolds like an assembly line. John and I move around taking photos, tasting herbs, generally being
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