"I'm sorry, the counter is already closed. Maybe check the Lion Air office for another flight?"
I stare at the girl working the check-in counter in disbelief. Surely she must be joking. I've been in a cab for a few hours, stuck in Jakarta traffic that seems to have no limits, through accidents, construction, and countless cars and motorbikes. I'm exhausted. I've been exploring Jakarta for the past few days, a city larger and possibly more chaotic than New York City. I'm running out of money and I haven't even started my Singapore and Thailand trip. I haven't had my morning coffee. To top it all off, my cab driver dropped me off at the domestic Lion Air terminal, not the international one, so I had to wait for a shuttle bus to transport me and my embarrassingly large backpack to an entirely different terminal.
Not the best way to start the morning. And I'm not a morning person.
"Maaf, saya tidak mengerti. Apa?" I ask slowly, not understanding. The girl smiles patiently. "The counter is closed, Miss." She repeats herself in English to ensure I fully understand. "You cannot take this flight."
I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. I don't cry. If I'm crying, something's really wrong and I'm visibly upset, which is unacceptable behavior in Java. I've been anticipating this trip for a long time. I'm going to Singapore with friends and the trip couldn't come at a better time. Apparently, though, that plan just came to a screeching halt.
I mumble a 'Terima kasih" and rush off to the Lion Air office. The man at the counter is young. Handsome, too. I hastily explain my dilemma in Indonesian, mentioning that I arrived at the exact moment the counter was closing, and couldn't they make an exception for me as a frequent Lion Air customer? He responds in impeccable English that they can't and that I will have to take the next flight at 11:15 for 900.000 rupiah (approximately $100 USD), which is double what I originally paid for the ticket. Fighting back tears, I explain that I have to make this flight and that my friend is on the flight. I tell him that I'm a teacher and I can't afford to pay for a new flight. I communicate my frustration at the fact that Lion is making me pay Rp. 900.000 for a seat in category Q on the next flight because there is no remaining seat in category D (both are economy seats that are exactly the same) when I've already paid Rp. 400.000 for my ticket. I'm furious, panicked, annoyed, and worried about finances.
But he won't budge.
It is at that moment that I realize the irony of my situation. For a year and a half, I've silently begged Indonesia to get its act together. From the immigration official who sits and smokes while your KITAS papers sit untouched on his desk and you've been waiting for 2 days for them to the policeman who bribes you for money, just because you happen to be on his road, inefficiency and corruption infiltrate every level of Indonesian society. Oh, you lost something on the public Kijang that took you to Makale? Maybe if you bring the driver a pack of cigarettes, he will check his car for you. In America, we call that corruption. Here, Indonesians call it the polite thing to do when you ask someone for help.
We Americans roll our eyes at the inflated prices we receive from street vendors because we're foreigners. We boast that our police force doesn't accept bribes, that our buses leave on time, that things run on an efficient and reliable schedule with little deviation. Yet when we need a favor from an Indonesian police officer, we don't hesitate to break the rules so things can work out according to how we want them to work out. We grow accustomed to the broken system, complain when it doesn't work in our favor, and at the same time, condemn the system as being inefficient and inferior to our own.
That's when it hit me. Today, Indonesia was functioning they exact way I've wanted it to for 2 years. Today, Indonesia was being American. Lion Air was running a business the way United Airlines or Delta or any other company would in America.
I can't stamp my Western foot when things don't work out the way I want. I've been here long enough to know better. It's my fault I missed my flight, not Indonesia's. I've lived in Jakarta before and I should have anticipated heavy traffic, construction, and accidents. I can't expect cities, traffic, and airline companies to bend rules for me? They don't in America. Why should I expect them to here? Instead of bemoaning the extra 900.000 rupiah I have to pay because I didn't plan well, I should be grateful that this mistake didn't occur in the U.S., where my error would have cost hundreds of dollars.
I finally understand the Islamic concept of "insyallah" here. People always respond with "Insyallah" when they make plans. Why? Because you don't know what the future holds or what obstacles might stand in your way. "Can you go to Makassar with me in December?" "Insyallah." "Will you come to my party?" ":Insyallah."
If God wills.
If God wills, I will do x, y, and z. If God wills, I will go to the party or to Singapore or to whereever.
And that's where my religion, Christianity, kicks in. Yes, my future plans will work out if God wills. However, God wants us to take action and be responsible people. We can't sit back and wait for God to do everything for us. I can't wait for God to pull a miracle rabbit out of some divine magic hat and fix a problem I created through poor planning. That's not how it works. I need to be responsible and anticipate obstacles to my plans, especially travel plans. I can't blame Indonesia. I can't use God as a good luck charm.
Indonesia does have flaws. The way women are treated here certainly bothers me. The corruption and inefficiency of the bureaucracy continually frustrates me. Those are things I cannot change. However, I can change my attitude and my reaction to unexpected obstacles. Instead of being continually frustrated with the transportation system and unexpected challenges, I need to learn to work with the system and make the best of it.
Besides, this is Indonesia. Everything works out in the end. It just doesn't work out in the time frame my Western personality would like. But it does work out.
Why worry?
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
Don't sit next to children in moving vehicles
On Friday, I learned a valuable lesson: Don't sit next to children in vehicles. In fact, don't allow ibus (mothers) with children to sit next to you either. It might seem heartless, but trust me. Don't do it.
Those children might pee on you. Literally.
I am riding along in a Toyota Kijang from Rantepao to Makale enroute to see Eda so we can explore Toraja together. The ride is a good half hour drive and, in typical Indonesian transportation style, I'm squished alongside 11 other people. Kijangs, in case you didn't know, are small SUVs that hold 7 people - 3 in the back, 3 in the middle, 2 in the front, but this is Indonesia, where people cram as many passengers into one car as possible.
All of a sudden, I feel something wet on my seat, creeping alongside my leg. Flinching, I frantically look around for the source of this unpleasant mishap, convinced that maybe I had left an open water bottle in my purse. "Basah! Apa itu???" I exclaim, searching the car for the wet source. The ibu next to me shakes her head in confusion. Her little boy, probably about 5 years old based on his little SD (elementary school) uniform, tugs on his mother's sleeve and whispers in her ear, stealing tiny glances at me. She glances at me sharply and quickly turns her head away. With horror, I realize that the boy just wet his pants and I am in fact sitting, soaked, in his urine.
And we still have 25 minutes to go until Makale.
One thing you come to realize in Indonesia is that often situations are out of your control and you just have to let things go. I could have expressed frustration and irritation, but what good would that do me? The poor kid couldn't help himself - it was an accident. There was nothing I could do - I still had a 25 minute drive, I couldn't change my clothes in a car crammed with 12 people, and getting upset wouldn't change the fact that I was stuck in the back corner of a car, covered in urine. So, I smiled at Ibu (who I'm sure was embarrassed) and said "Tidak apa-apa" (it's okay), popped my earbuds in, and listened to my iPod for the remainder of the drive.
Indonesia's a tough country for Americans to experience. I've woken up on non-air conditioned bus rides through the jungles of Borneo to find strangers touching my face and hair and taking pictures of me sleeping. One time, I was on a bus and discovered upon waking that there was a line (I kid you not, A LINE) of people who wanted to touch my nose (Indonesians love my Eastern European long nose, which they often point to and exclaim "Hidung mancet!" Pointed nose!). I often see Indonesian boys creepily taking pictures of me on their handphones, pretending to text even though it's quite obvious that they're snapping photos. The other night, I battled a spider almost as big as my hand (and I mean LEGIT spider, not some daddy longlegs) that refused to die when I sprayed it with bug spray. I was in a motorcycle accident and was given placenta gel (the placenta of what I really don't want to know). Needless to say, my injuries didn't heal. I've been stuck in airports, missed ferries and flights, been served fish heads and chicken feet for dinner, and encountered people who didn't respect me or treat me fairly.
The key is to not get upset. You can't always control your circumstances and showing frustration or anger merely exacerbates the problem. To be able to enjoy Indonesia, you have to be able to let go of the things that might annoy you as an American. Acknowledge that you're not in control of the situation. Let the circumstances be an opportunity for personal growth and character development. Learn patience and understanding. Try to see every challenge from an Indonesian perspective and realize that you might be overdramatizing an incident through the way you perceive it. Understand that things will never work in an American way. If you're able to let go and laugh off ridiculous circumstances, you'll integrate and adapt much quicker and things will bother you less.
My best piece of advice from personal experience is this: Let the Fulbright program teach you patience, compassion, understanding, kindness, humility, grace, and endurance. Don't sit there and try to mold Fulbright (or any cultural exchange for that matter) into what you think it should be from an American perspective. Let it change you into a more open-minded individual.
That being said, develop a really good poker face.
And don't sit next to children.
Those children might pee on you. Literally.
I am riding along in a Toyota Kijang from Rantepao to Makale enroute to see Eda so we can explore Toraja together. The ride is a good half hour drive and, in typical Indonesian transportation style, I'm squished alongside 11 other people. Kijangs, in case you didn't know, are small SUVs that hold 7 people - 3 in the back, 3 in the middle, 2 in the front, but this is Indonesia, where people cram as many passengers into one car as possible.
All of a sudden, I feel something wet on my seat, creeping alongside my leg. Flinching, I frantically look around for the source of this unpleasant mishap, convinced that maybe I had left an open water bottle in my purse. "Basah! Apa itu???" I exclaim, searching the car for the wet source. The ibu next to me shakes her head in confusion. Her little boy, probably about 5 years old based on his little SD (elementary school) uniform, tugs on his mother's sleeve and whispers in her ear, stealing tiny glances at me. She glances at me sharply and quickly turns her head away. With horror, I realize that the boy just wet his pants and I am in fact sitting, soaked, in his urine.
And we still have 25 minutes to go until Makale.
One thing you come to realize in Indonesia is that often situations are out of your control and you just have to let things go. I could have expressed frustration and irritation, but what good would that do me? The poor kid couldn't help himself - it was an accident. There was nothing I could do - I still had a 25 minute drive, I couldn't change my clothes in a car crammed with 12 people, and getting upset wouldn't change the fact that I was stuck in the back corner of a car, covered in urine. So, I smiled at Ibu (who I'm sure was embarrassed) and said "Tidak apa-apa" (it's okay), popped my earbuds in, and listened to my iPod for the remainder of the drive.
Indonesia's a tough country for Americans to experience. I've woken up on non-air conditioned bus rides through the jungles of Borneo to find strangers touching my face and hair and taking pictures of me sleeping. One time, I was on a bus and discovered upon waking that there was a line (I kid you not, A LINE) of people who wanted to touch my nose (Indonesians love my Eastern European long nose, which they often point to and exclaim "Hidung mancet!" Pointed nose!). I often see Indonesian boys creepily taking pictures of me on their handphones, pretending to text even though it's quite obvious that they're snapping photos. The other night, I battled a spider almost as big as my hand (and I mean LEGIT spider, not some daddy longlegs) that refused to die when I sprayed it with bug spray. I was in a motorcycle accident and was given placenta gel (the placenta of what I really don't want to know). Needless to say, my injuries didn't heal. I've been stuck in airports, missed ferries and flights, been served fish heads and chicken feet for dinner, and encountered people who didn't respect me or treat me fairly.
The key is to not get upset. You can't always control your circumstances and showing frustration or anger merely exacerbates the problem. To be able to enjoy Indonesia, you have to be able to let go of the things that might annoy you as an American. Acknowledge that you're not in control of the situation. Let the circumstances be an opportunity for personal growth and character development. Learn patience and understanding. Try to see every challenge from an Indonesian perspective and realize that you might be overdramatizing an incident through the way you perceive it. Understand that things will never work in an American way. If you're able to let go and laugh off ridiculous circumstances, you'll integrate and adapt much quicker and things will bother you less.
My best piece of advice from personal experience is this: Let the Fulbright program teach you patience, compassion, understanding, kindness, humility, grace, and endurance. Don't sit there and try to mold Fulbright (or any cultural exchange for that matter) into what you think it should be from an American perspective. Let it change you into a more open-minded individual.
That being said, develop a really good poker face.
And don't sit next to children.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Welcome to Toraja
It's cold here. Fresh, crisp, American fall cool, sans colored leaves and pre-winter chills. The weather in Toraja is perfect - sometimes sunny and warm without being unbearably hot and humid, sometimes cool and moist, like an autumn rainy day. I wake up burrowed under my thick blankets and step out of bed into the crisp, cold morning air. It's too cold to take a shower in the morning from my low pressure shower. It's so cold, in fact, that I heat my water and pour it into a large plastic bin, so I can scoop it over my head with a plastic scooper. No long showers here.
I live in a village, approximately 2 kilometers from Rantepao, the largest town in the province of Toraja, South Sulawesi. Town is an overstatement, I think, since Rantepao is about 1/8 the size of Bontang, the town in which I lived last year in Kalimantan (Borneo). Rantepao is a town of contradictory ideas. There are so many bule here - foreigners from America, France, Germany, the Netherlands, Australia and other places - who tour around to see Torajan mountains and funerals. I have yet to sit in a cafe in which I am the only non-Indonesian person there and I'm not sure . The prices in the local warungs reflect the tourism industry - nasi goreng (fried rice) costs about Rp. 20.000, groceries cost double what they did in Kalimantan, and everyone solicits me on the streets for ojek rides, tourist excursions, etc. I'm not used to this side of Indonesia.
At the same time, I can't find yogurt or fresh milk, among other items non-existent in my village. In fact, I buy most of my groceries in Makassar, a large city and international hub 8 hours away, due to the limited supplies of necessities I can't find here. The roads are tiny and crowded, bustling with sitors (motorbikes pushing covered seated carts around town), motorbikes, cars, and the occasional truck full of kerbau (buffalo) in the back, heading to a funeral. There are lots of small shops with everything imagineable - mechanics shops with pipes, tires, and appliance pieces (imagine the mechanics/plumbing/construction sections of Home Depot thrown together in a space the size of a convenience store), and housewares shops with plastic tubs, dishes, rugs, ovens, stoves, and shelves. Shopping in Rantepao (in any Indonesian community for that matter) is like rummage sale/Goodwill/secondhand shopping. It's chaotic and crazy - everything crammed together in tiny, barely walkable aisles, dishes piled next to cleaning supplies that are randomly placed in front of feminine care products.
Begitu. It's like that. I love it. Shopping for even basic necessities is like an unexpected treasure hunt - you find things you need and want in places you'd never expect. The other day, I found Fillippo Bergio Italian olive oil next to bottles of sambal (chile sauce), chocolate chips on the top shelf above instant noodles, and Pepsi wedged between chocolate milk and beer in the tiny local grocery store. The ability to find tems available on a day to day basis changes constantly - one day you might find spaghetti noodles, the next day they're gone and you won't see them for two months. Imagine if Kroger or Meijer or Whole Foods suddenly stopped providing cheese, noodles, or some other item for a few weeks. Hence I stock up on products I like when I find them. I never know what will be available in my grocery store.
Rantepao is a bustling little town, due (I think) to the influx of tourists and constant funeral preparations. However, the town still retains its village-like mentality and charm. When I drive around with my counterpart, he always rolls the car window down to extend greetings to his friends and neighbors around town. The employees of every store I visit know Pak Marthen and SMA Kristen Barana'. Random people I meet in warungs (small cafes), on ojeks (motorcycle drivers who act as taxis), on the streets...all know "Mr. Ezra," my friend and fellow ETA from last year. I love the close-knit feel of the community - it's much more communal than Bontang. Also, people use the local language much more frequently here than in Bontang, probably due to the fact that most people here speak the same language, Bahasa Toraja, because they're Torajan. Bontang is very ethnically diverse, with Dayak, Kutai, Banjar, Bugis, Javanese, Torajan, Minahasan, Balinese, and Batak people all living together in the same town. Everyone spoke Bahasa Indonesia in order to understand each other. Here in Rantepao, people interchangeably use Bahasa Toraja and Bahasa Indonesia, even mixing the two languages together. It's a fascinating place to live and I can't wait to learn more about the culture.
I live in a village, approximately 2 kilometers from Rantepao, the largest town in the province of Toraja, South Sulawesi. Town is an overstatement, I think, since Rantepao is about 1/8 the size of Bontang, the town in which I lived last year in Kalimantan (Borneo). Rantepao is a town of contradictory ideas. There are so many bule here - foreigners from America, France, Germany, the Netherlands, Australia and other places - who tour around to see Torajan mountains and funerals. I have yet to sit in a cafe in which I am the only non-Indonesian person there and I'm not sure . The prices in the local warungs reflect the tourism industry - nasi goreng (fried rice) costs about Rp. 20.000, groceries cost double what they did in Kalimantan, and everyone solicits me on the streets for ojek rides, tourist excursions, etc. I'm not used to this side of Indonesia.
At the same time, I can't find yogurt or fresh milk, among other items non-existent in my village. In fact, I buy most of my groceries in Makassar, a large city and international hub 8 hours away, due to the limited supplies of necessities I can't find here. The roads are tiny and crowded, bustling with sitors (motorbikes pushing covered seated carts around town), motorbikes, cars, and the occasional truck full of kerbau (buffalo) in the back, heading to a funeral. There are lots of small shops with everything imagineable - mechanics shops with pipes, tires, and appliance pieces (imagine the mechanics/plumbing/construction sections of Home Depot thrown together in a space the size of a convenience store), and housewares shops with plastic tubs, dishes, rugs, ovens, stoves, and shelves. Shopping in Rantepao (in any Indonesian community for that matter) is like rummage sale/Goodwill/secondhand shopping. It's chaotic and crazy - everything crammed together in tiny, barely walkable aisles, dishes piled next to cleaning supplies that are randomly placed in front of feminine care products.
Begitu. It's like that. I love it. Shopping for even basic necessities is like an unexpected treasure hunt - you find things you need and want in places you'd never expect. The other day, I found Fillippo Bergio Italian olive oil next to bottles of sambal (chile sauce), chocolate chips on the top shelf above instant noodles, and Pepsi wedged between chocolate milk and beer in the tiny local grocery store. The ability to find tems available on a day to day basis changes constantly - one day you might find spaghetti noodles, the next day they're gone and you won't see them for two months. Imagine if Kroger or Meijer or Whole Foods suddenly stopped providing cheese, noodles, or some other item for a few weeks. Hence I stock up on products I like when I find them. I never know what will be available in my grocery store.
Rantepao is a bustling little town, due (I think) to the influx of tourists and constant funeral preparations. However, the town still retains its village-like mentality and charm. When I drive around with my counterpart, he always rolls the car window down to extend greetings to his friends and neighbors around town. The employees of every store I visit know Pak Marthen and SMA Kristen Barana'. Random people I meet in warungs (small cafes), on ojeks (motorcycle drivers who act as taxis), on the streets...all know "Mr. Ezra," my friend and fellow ETA from last year. I love the close-knit feel of the community - it's much more communal than Bontang. Also, people use the local language much more frequently here than in Bontang, probably due to the fact that most people here speak the same language, Bahasa Toraja, because they're Torajan. Bontang is very ethnically diverse, with Dayak, Kutai, Banjar, Bugis, Javanese, Torajan, Minahasan, Balinese, and Batak people all living together in the same town. Everyone spoke Bahasa Indonesia in order to understand each other. Here in Rantepao, people interchangeably use Bahasa Toraja and Bahasa Indonesia, even mixing the two languages together. It's a fascinating place to live and I can't wait to learn more about the culture.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Anticipating Adjustment
Since I'm all about making lists, I thought I'd focus this one on things I've done that scream "Hey!!! You're going to fail at readjusting to America!!!!" Which means I'm going to be constantly on the phone with other Fulbrighters, lamenting my embarrassing moments (I highly anticipate that there will be many). Included in the list are:
- Walking with Mary Martin in Singapore and not thinking it was weird when she stood by the road and tried to hail a bus. Also not understanding that people wait at bus stops for buses.
- Jaywalking in Singapore when no one else was doing so. It may be illegal...oops...
- Saying "Apa?" every time I don't clearly hear what someone said.
- Saying "Apayah" when I can't think of a word.
- Eating rice with my right hand at a Western restaurant.
- Not being full when I don't eat rice.
- Adding "Insyallah" and "Alhamdulilah" to all of my sentences.
- Saying "Alhamdulilah" to the Hindu Balinese woman running the toko across from my homestay.
- Not remembering the English words for "toko," "
- Talking with other foreigners in incomprehensible English because I can no longer form a grammatically correct sentence.
- Talking my way out of a traffic ticket because I flirtingly asked the police officer if he had a girlfriend and said I was looking for an Indonesian boyfriend (dear Lord, I have no shame). Imagine doing that in the States.
- Judging foreigners for stupid, culturally ignorant comments (something I need to stop).
- Not understanding why stores aren't closed at magrib (hour for Islamic evening prayer).
- Feeling like Bali and Lombok have cold climates.
- Shivering and feeling cold after heavy rainfalls.
- Negotiating for everything. I can't walk into a farmers market back home and tell the seller his vegetables are too expensive and will he accept half the price?
It's gonna be an interesting 2 months at home...
- Walking with Mary Martin in Singapore and not thinking it was weird when she stood by the road and tried to hail a bus. Also not understanding that people wait at bus stops for buses.
- Jaywalking in Singapore when no one else was doing so. It may be illegal...oops...
- Saying "Apa?" every time I don't clearly hear what someone said.
- Saying "Apayah" when I can't think of a word.
- Eating rice with my right hand at a Western restaurant.
- Not being full when I don't eat rice.
- Adding "Insyallah" and "Alhamdulilah" to all of my sentences.
- Saying "Alhamdulilah" to the Hindu Balinese woman running the toko across from my homestay.
- Not remembering the English words for "toko," "
- Talking with other foreigners in incomprehensible English because I can no longer form a grammatically correct sentence.
- Talking my way out of a traffic ticket because I flirtingly asked the police officer if he had a girlfriend and said I was looking for an Indonesian boyfriend (dear Lord, I have no shame). Imagine doing that in the States.
- Judging foreigners for stupid, culturally ignorant comments (something I need to stop).
- Not understanding why stores aren't closed at magrib (hour for Islamic evening prayer).
- Feeling like Bali and Lombok have cold climates.
- Shivering and feeling cold after heavy rainfalls.
- Negotiating for everything. I can't walk into a farmers market back home and tell the seller his vegetables are too expensive and will he accept half the price?
It's gonna be an interesting 2 months at home...
Jalan-jalan
I'm in Gili Trawangan right now for the fourth (and probably last) time. I love the crystal clear blue water, white sand, and relaxing atmosphere, but after the fourth time, everything seems a bit too...familiar. Maybe it's time to pick a new relaxation spot when the doorman at the remote 5 star resort calls you by name (even though you've never stayed there) and asks you in Indonesian, "Ibu Guru! Apa kabar? Mau kembali ke Gili T, ya bu? Senang di Kalimantan? Kenapa tidak kerja di sini?"
Miss Teacher, how are you? You want to come back again to Gili T, ya? Are you happy in Kalimantan? Why don't you work here?
Or maybe it's time to leave when trying to negotiate lower prices so as not to pay harga bule (foreigner price) fails to work. Take for example, when I attempted to rent a mask and fins for snorkeling and the adolescent boy at the counter snidely remarked that if I didn't want to pay 50,000 rupiah for the best snorkeling gear (i.e. worn fins and a mask that probably leaks), I could go elsewhere. "Yes, miss, I realize that you speak Indonesian, but this is the local price." Like hell it is.
Again...maybe I need to find a new spot to nongkrong.
As I sit on the beach and watch the sun set over Mount Agung, Bali's towering volcano that faces Lombok, I realize how much of a whirlwind nine months I've experienced. I've had my remote teaching experience in Bontang and my bule luxury trips in Ubud and the Gilis. I've eaten street food off carts no American (save ETAs and Peace Corps kids) would ever touch and sampled delicious wines in exquisite restaurants. I've seen cobras in my backyard and white families with matching Bintang (Indonesian beer) shirts in Kuta. It's been nine months of extremes...and nine months that have been the best months of my life. I'm ready to see family back home and yet part of me is sad to leave my Indonesian family here. Insyallah, I will come back some day to my home in Bontang to hug my friends and see my beautiful students. Maybe I can visit next year.
Back to my little world on Gili T...
Is it weird to admit that after being in Bali several days, I feel more at home when I can hear the mosque calling people to prayer? That I take conscious effort in not looking like a trashy foreigner by throwing a shirt over my bikini when I see men nearby? That I'd rather eat Padang food than Western food? I didn't realize how accustomed I've become to kampung (village) Indonesia until I returned to resort Indonesia. When I was handed a fork in a restaurant for my Indonesian food (paket nasi - with rice), I think I glared at the waiter like he was crazy. How am I supposed to eat rice with a fork? You need a SPOON, genius. Everyone knows that.
So, I'm torn. I love Indonesia and I'm nervous to return home to the frigid States (both emotionally and thermally). At the same time, I'm a bit tired of "Taxi? You need taxi? I have room...cheap price? You want? Have a look, please!" Imagine walking into Nordstroms and being solicited like that. Not happening.
I think I'll go home for a bit...and then come back to my renewed grant, nine more months of island hopping, learning about cultures, and improving my Bahasa Indonesia. In fact, I think I'll go home...Tuesday. That's right, four days left and then I'll be lugging my suitcases across four airports.
On a final note, another reason it's time to leave the Gilis and go home? When people start making jokes about how my nine month stint in Indonesia was a cover-up for an oopsie pregnancy. Not true and not funny. Even a local Sasak ibu on the beach jokingly asked where my baby was when I told her I'd been teaching for nine months. Harus pulang.
Dear AMINEF...please make next year's grant 10 months. Love, Ibu Guru.
Miss Teacher, how are you? You want to come back again to Gili T, ya? Are you happy in Kalimantan? Why don't you work here?
Or maybe it's time to leave when trying to negotiate lower prices so as not to pay harga bule (foreigner price) fails to work. Take for example, when I attempted to rent a mask and fins for snorkeling and the adolescent boy at the counter snidely remarked that if I didn't want to pay 50,000 rupiah for the best snorkeling gear (i.e. worn fins and a mask that probably leaks), I could go elsewhere. "Yes, miss, I realize that you speak Indonesian, but this is the local price." Like hell it is.
Again...maybe I need to find a new spot to nongkrong.
As I sit on the beach and watch the sun set over Mount Agung, Bali's towering volcano that faces Lombok, I realize how much of a whirlwind nine months I've experienced. I've had my remote teaching experience in Bontang and my bule luxury trips in Ubud and the Gilis. I've eaten street food off carts no American (save ETAs and Peace Corps kids) would ever touch and sampled delicious wines in exquisite restaurants. I've seen cobras in my backyard and white families with matching Bintang (Indonesian beer) shirts in Kuta. It's been nine months of extremes...and nine months that have been the best months of my life. I'm ready to see family back home and yet part of me is sad to leave my Indonesian family here. Insyallah, I will come back some day to my home in Bontang to hug my friends and see my beautiful students. Maybe I can visit next year.
Back to my little world on Gili T...
Is it weird to admit that after being in Bali several days, I feel more at home when I can hear the mosque calling people to prayer? That I take conscious effort in not looking like a trashy foreigner by throwing a shirt over my bikini when I see men nearby? That I'd rather eat Padang food than Western food? I didn't realize how accustomed I've become to kampung (village) Indonesia until I returned to resort Indonesia. When I was handed a fork in a restaurant for my Indonesian food (paket nasi - with rice), I think I glared at the waiter like he was crazy. How am I supposed to eat rice with a fork? You need a SPOON, genius. Everyone knows that.
So, I'm torn. I love Indonesia and I'm nervous to return home to the frigid States (both emotionally and thermally). At the same time, I'm a bit tired of "Taxi? You need taxi? I have room...cheap price? You want? Have a look, please!" Imagine walking into Nordstroms and being solicited like that. Not happening.
I think I'll go home for a bit...and then come back to my renewed grant, nine more months of island hopping, learning about cultures, and improving my Bahasa Indonesia. In fact, I think I'll go home...Tuesday. That's right, four days left and then I'll be lugging my suitcases across four airports.
On a final note, another reason it's time to leave the Gilis and go home? When people start making jokes about how my nine month stint in Indonesia was a cover-up for an oopsie pregnancy. Not true and not funny. Even a local Sasak ibu on the beach jokingly asked where my baby was when I told her I'd been teaching for nine months. Harus pulang.
Dear AMINEF...please make next year's grant 10 months. Love, Ibu Guru.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Reflections on lessons learned
It's May 15th. My program officially ends in 7 days. I'm leaving Indonesia in 3 weeks. It's surreal, sitting back and thinking about how quickly time has flown by. I'm a bit hesitant to return home, although I miss my friends and family. I'm anxious to see how how I adapt to the fast-paced atmosphere of American cities. I'm so accustomed to the island pace here, jam karet, or rubber time...delayed flights, meetings that start an hour late, no sense of rushed deadlines. I've fallen in love with doing things on my own personal time frame - zipping around on my motorbike, walking through the traditional market, chilling after school with my kids. I love learning Bahasa Indonesia and being active in my community here. It feels like home. It IS home.
Right now, I'm sitting here, looking around my room, feeling like I just moved in last week. In the blink of an eye, I'll be on the plane heading home, bracing myself for culture shock and familiar surroundings that now seem so distant in my past. I'm trying to figure out how to jam everything I've accumulated into my suitcases without incurring horrendous fees from greedy American airlines. Maybe I'll cross that bridge when I come to it in 7 days. Or...maybe I'll start packing now, since I seem to have accumulated an entire life's worth of oleh-oleh from friends here in Indonesia.
As I flip through photos, though, I'm nervous because I'm not sure how people back home have changed. In July, I'll attend my best friend's wedding as the maid of honor. It's such a surreal feeling, anticipating the impending marriage of my best friend since 4th grade. Suddenly, I've realized I'm growing up. My friends are getting married and several of them have children. It's an odd feeling to be the person who isn't ready to settle down and who hasn't found that one person I want to spend my life with. When I go home in June, I'll see people I haven't seen in almost a year, former romantic interests, close friends, neighbors, relatives. But I'm not the same person.
Looking back over the years and over the past eight months, I realize how much I've grown from the personal experiences and changes I've gone through. From spending time in school in Amish country, Pennsylvania to moving alone to Washington, D.C. to spending whirlwind crazy busy years at U of M, my experiences have broken, molded, and developed my worldviews and who I am as a person. I came, I saw, I learned, I grew. I've taught kids from all different backgrounds and ages, worked on campaigns, interviewed religious leaders for my research project in Jakarta, and talked with refugees from North Korea and human trafficking victims. I've met people and lost touch with people and found new people. I've loved someone deeply, lost someone close to me, and found new people who've contributed so much to my life. Looking in retrospect, the twists and turns of the past several years have helped me grow in ways I never could have imagined. Of all the experiences I've had, Indonesia, my current life adventure, has perhaps changed me the most.
Indonesia has profoundly influenced the way I look at everything. I've seen poverty unlike anything I've ever experienced in the States - beggars who look like Holocaust survivors with bones protruding from wrinkled, dehydrated skin. The economic disparities here are shocking. I've browsed at Jakarta's largest and fanciest mall, Plaza Indonesia, filled with exorbitantly wealthy Indonesian women and their nannies who juggle their bosses' Tiffany's and Gucci bags and privileged children at the same time. Right outside the doors of the mall, there are shacks consisting of boards nailed together, where entire families huddle under a roof filled with holes, unable to keep out the tropical rains that daily flood Jakarta. In Jogja, children as young as 2 years old weave their way through crowded streets to rap on car windows, begging for money. Seeing such poverty on a daily basis has shown me how little I need to be happy
Indonesia has taught me to accept circumstances instead of bemoaning when things don't go my way. The attitude here, from Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, and Hindus alike, is that everything happens for a reason and you can't waste time wishing for situations to change. "Insyaallah, if God wills" is what I hear from friends and neighbors on a daily basis. Even my 15-year-old student, whose father passed away at a young age in December, told me that God wills death at times and we have to move on and keep living. One week, I was having a rough time - plans fell apart, doors to opportunities closed, the students were having a difficult time paying attention in class - and I was sitting at home in tears. I texted my counterpart and friend to share some of my frustrations. She responded, "Rachel, everything happens for a reason because God directs our lives. If something does not work out, it is because God did not want it to. He has something better for you and you have to trust that everything will be better than you imagine. You can't waste time worrying about things you cannot control. You have to trust that something better is in store for you."
Indonesia has demonstrated the characteristics I've always been taught to live, but shamefully often fail to implement in my life. For example, people here are genuinely kind and often go out of their way to help strangers. As a busy American, it's often easy for me to overlook people in my rush here and there. I was stuck in the Medan airport, after trying unsuccessfully to book a flight that Lion Air refused to let me book over the phone or internet. I was at the ticket counter, trying again unsuccessfully to get on standby for a flight to Jakarta. A kindly, middle-aged man noticed my flustered attempts to communicate in Bahasa Indonesia, leaned over to the counter, and spent the next ten minutes advocating my cause in Bahasa Indonesia. I got on standby and was able to get a flight to Jakarta. Another time, I took a harrowing bus ride through the rolling hills of Kalimantan back to my hometown of Bontang. When I got out of the bus, a woman I had barely acknowledged offered to drive me home, stopping along the way to buy me lunch and insisting on giving me her number in case I needed anything in Bontang. People have continually showed me unbelievable kindness since I've been here.
Indonesia has taught me to make the best of the worst circumstances. When I visited Jogjakarta, I took a motorcycle ride up through the mountainous roads leading to Mount Merapi, the volcano that had violently erupted in October, killing many people and devastating the surrounding landscape. I arrived at the outskirts of skeletal villages, filled with the remains of houses barely standing, with windows blown out by scorching air, and walls crumbling to the ground. The landscape looked like a nuclear holocaust zone - everything was grey and bare, like a ghost town. As I trekked toward Merapi on foot, sifting through ash knee-deep, the villages disappeared, for those closest to the mountain were buried meters deep in ash and hardening lava. In spite of the devastation, though, people had already moved back to the location and were rebuilding their houses. While it is true that many people still suffer from depression and post-traumatic stress disorder, others have begun the long process of rebuilding, refusing to allow the disaster break their spirits.
Through all of my experiences, particularly Indonesia, I am convinced that the point of human existence is to bring joy to others and ease the sufferings of this harsh, brutal world. Life isn't about the cliques we form or games we play to get jobs, become popular, gain friends. It's not about partying and drinking, or spending your life pouring over data in labs. It's not about competition. It's about compassion. We shouldn't be so wrapped up in drama, work, and our own lives that we miss the opportunities to reach others around us. I've met so many amazing kids who live with so few material possessions, but whose passion for being community leaders is helping them make a difference in Bontang and in their schools. Take Dzakiyyah, for example - the student I brought to the WORDS competition in Jakarta. She's a sweet girl, top in her class, and she's passionate about making a difference in her world. She comes from difficult circumstances - her father recently passed away in December, leaving her mother with 8 children ages 3-16. Yet she doesn't let her circumstances extinguish her passion for human rights and for bringing gender equality and respect for women to Indonesia. That's why I'm here, to help kids develop into compassionate individuals who will change the world. I want my kids to learn English so they can communicate with a globalizing world in a global language and share their passions and aspirations with others.
This experience has been so deeply rewarding in so many ways. I can't begin to verbalize the extent to which I've been blessed.
Right now, I'm sitting here, looking around my room, feeling like I just moved in last week. In the blink of an eye, I'll be on the plane heading home, bracing myself for culture shock and familiar surroundings that now seem so distant in my past. I'm trying to figure out how to jam everything I've accumulated into my suitcases without incurring horrendous fees from greedy American airlines. Maybe I'll cross that bridge when I come to it in 7 days. Or...maybe I'll start packing now, since I seem to have accumulated an entire life's worth of oleh-oleh from friends here in Indonesia.
As I flip through photos, though, I'm nervous because I'm not sure how people back home have changed. In July, I'll attend my best friend's wedding as the maid of honor. It's such a surreal feeling, anticipating the impending marriage of my best friend since 4th grade. Suddenly, I've realized I'm growing up. My friends are getting married and several of them have children. It's an odd feeling to be the person who isn't ready to settle down and who hasn't found that one person I want to spend my life with. When I go home in June, I'll see people I haven't seen in almost a year, former romantic interests, close friends, neighbors, relatives. But I'm not the same person.
Looking back over the years and over the past eight months, I realize how much I've grown from the personal experiences and changes I've gone through. From spending time in school in Amish country, Pennsylvania to moving alone to Washington, D.C. to spending whirlwind crazy busy years at U of M, my experiences have broken, molded, and developed my worldviews and who I am as a person. I came, I saw, I learned, I grew. I've taught kids from all different backgrounds and ages, worked on campaigns, interviewed religious leaders for my research project in Jakarta, and talked with refugees from North Korea and human trafficking victims. I've met people and lost touch with people and found new people. I've loved someone deeply, lost someone close to me, and found new people who've contributed so much to my life. Looking in retrospect, the twists and turns of the past several years have helped me grow in ways I never could have imagined. Of all the experiences I've had, Indonesia, my current life adventure, has perhaps changed me the most.
Indonesia has profoundly influenced the way I look at everything. I've seen poverty unlike anything I've ever experienced in the States - beggars who look like Holocaust survivors with bones protruding from wrinkled, dehydrated skin. The economic disparities here are shocking. I've browsed at Jakarta's largest and fanciest mall, Plaza Indonesia, filled with exorbitantly wealthy Indonesian women and their nannies who juggle their bosses' Tiffany's and Gucci bags and privileged children at the same time. Right outside the doors of the mall, there are shacks consisting of boards nailed together, where entire families huddle under a roof filled with holes, unable to keep out the tropical rains that daily flood Jakarta. In Jogja, children as young as 2 years old weave their way through crowded streets to rap on car windows, begging for money. Seeing such poverty on a daily basis has shown me how little I need to be happy
Indonesia has taught me to accept circumstances instead of bemoaning when things don't go my way. The attitude here, from Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, and Hindus alike, is that everything happens for a reason and you can't waste time wishing for situations to change. "Insyaallah, if God wills" is what I hear from friends and neighbors on a daily basis. Even my 15-year-old student, whose father passed away at a young age in December, told me that God wills death at times and we have to move on and keep living. One week, I was having a rough time - plans fell apart, doors to opportunities closed, the students were having a difficult time paying attention in class - and I was sitting at home in tears. I texted my counterpart and friend to share some of my frustrations. She responded, "Rachel, everything happens for a reason because God directs our lives. If something does not work out, it is because God did not want it to. He has something better for you and you have to trust that everything will be better than you imagine. You can't waste time worrying about things you cannot control. You have to trust that something better is in store for you."
Indonesia has demonstrated the characteristics I've always been taught to live, but shamefully often fail to implement in my life. For example, people here are genuinely kind and often go out of their way to help strangers. As a busy American, it's often easy for me to overlook people in my rush here and there. I was stuck in the Medan airport, after trying unsuccessfully to book a flight that Lion Air refused to let me book over the phone or internet. I was at the ticket counter, trying again unsuccessfully to get on standby for a flight to Jakarta. A kindly, middle-aged man noticed my flustered attempts to communicate in Bahasa Indonesia, leaned over to the counter, and spent the next ten minutes advocating my cause in Bahasa Indonesia. I got on standby and was able to get a flight to Jakarta. Another time, I took a harrowing bus ride through the rolling hills of Kalimantan back to my hometown of Bontang. When I got out of the bus, a woman I had barely acknowledged offered to drive me home, stopping along the way to buy me lunch and insisting on giving me her number in case I needed anything in Bontang. People have continually showed me unbelievable kindness since I've been here.
Indonesia has taught me to make the best of the worst circumstances. When I visited Jogjakarta, I took a motorcycle ride up through the mountainous roads leading to Mount Merapi, the volcano that had violently erupted in October, killing many people and devastating the surrounding landscape. I arrived at the outskirts of skeletal villages, filled with the remains of houses barely standing, with windows blown out by scorching air, and walls crumbling to the ground. The landscape looked like a nuclear holocaust zone - everything was grey and bare, like a ghost town. As I trekked toward Merapi on foot, sifting through ash knee-deep, the villages disappeared, for those closest to the mountain were buried meters deep in ash and hardening lava. In spite of the devastation, though, people had already moved back to the location and were rebuilding their houses. While it is true that many people still suffer from depression and post-traumatic stress disorder, others have begun the long process of rebuilding, refusing to allow the disaster break their spirits.
Through all of my experiences, particularly Indonesia, I am convinced that the point of human existence is to bring joy to others and ease the sufferings of this harsh, brutal world. Life isn't about the cliques we form or games we play to get jobs, become popular, gain friends. It's not about partying and drinking, or spending your life pouring over data in labs. It's not about competition. It's about compassion. We shouldn't be so wrapped up in drama, work, and our own lives that we miss the opportunities to reach others around us. I've met so many amazing kids who live with so few material possessions, but whose passion for being community leaders is helping them make a difference in Bontang and in their schools. Take Dzakiyyah, for example - the student I brought to the WORDS competition in Jakarta. She's a sweet girl, top in her class, and she's passionate about making a difference in her world. She comes from difficult circumstances - her father recently passed away in December, leaving her mother with 8 children ages 3-16. Yet she doesn't let her circumstances extinguish her passion for human rights and for bringing gender equality and respect for women to Indonesia. That's why I'm here, to help kids develop into compassionate individuals who will change the world. I want my kids to learn English so they can communicate with a globalizing world in a global language and share their passions and aspirations with others.
This experience has been so deeply rewarding in so many ways. I can't begin to verbalize the extent to which I've been blessed.
Cultural Readjustment
As I prepare to leave Indonesia and reenter the fast-paced American life I left behind, I’d like to take some time to identify some top cultural readjustment issues I need to remember.
1. - As frustrated as I am with traffic, driving on the shoulder or weaving in between cars on a motorbike is unacceptable, as is running a red light.
2. - It’s not okay to eat with my hands, no matter how much I refrain from using my left hand or how delicately and neatly I gather my rice and vegetables together before bringing food to my mouth.
3. - Saying “Ya Allah” or “Astagah” when I’m surprised might cause some concern.
4. - I shouldn’t take it personally when people don’t tell me on a daily basis that I’m beautiful or want to take photos with me.
5. - I can drink the tap water.
6. - Touching my heart after shaking hands might be seen as creepy.
7. - I can’t crumple on the floor when I’m laughing…not that I do that to begin with.
8. - I don’t need to knock on a door or say “Assalamu alaikum” before entering the room.
9. - Asking for “Jus/Juice _____ (anything)” at a restaurant won’t give me a freshly squeezed smoothie, just concentrated/formerly frozen juice.
10. - It’s not okay to refer to someone as “The fat one” or anything else that has to do with physical characteristics.
11. - - Fried rice won’t cost 7000 rupiah, but $5 USD, if not more.
12. - References to Norman, the dancing policeman, won’t ring any bells with friends back home.
13. - Showing up at the check-in counter at the airport as my flight is boarding will result in me missing my flight, not running across the tarmac to board in time.
14. - I can’t bring open water bottles, scissors, nail files, lotion or anything else of the sort in my carry-on baggage.
It’s been a fun journey. :)
Monday, February 21, 2011
Cobras and Crocodiles and Spiders, Oh My!
I've been here 6 months and I've failed to share with my friends, family, and all you curious ones back home in the safe, comfortable United States the craziness that is my home island of Borneo.
Borneo is the third largest island in the world. It's HUGE. It's quite diverse in geography - from endless, dense jungle forests filled with orangutans and pythons to gorgeous sandy beaches with vast coral reefs to the towering giant Mount Kinabalu. The territory of Borneo is shared by three countries - Malaysia, Indonesia, and Brunei, with the majority of Borneo belonging to Indonesia and the northern territories belonging to the other two countries.
Borneo is also a bit crazy. Borneo's the island you hear about on National Geographic with the world's deadliest snakes and spiders. It's the one where 10 years go, people were cutting off each others' heads and posting them on spears in the midst of an ethnic conflict. It's also one of the two last places on the face of the earth where you can see orangutans, a quickly disappearing endangered species, in their natural habitat.
Here are a few of my everyday experiences living in one of the world's most fascinating places:
A week ago, a four foot long monitor lizard (think cousin of komodo dragons) just randomly walked across my backyard.
I went on cobra patrol at the local playground yesterday to make sure none were hanging around the kids I was supervising - and the park looks JUST like a park in the States, like in Michigan. It's not like I'm in the jungle at all.
Today, I was working on my computer when a spider bigger than a tarantula ran across my floor and refused to die when I sprayed it with bug spray. It had a HUGE body and long hairy legs and fangs. Not okay. I hope they're not poisonous. Talya and I think I might have a nest in my room, possibly in my mattress, so we BATHED my room/mattress in bug spray.
Two weeks ago, when I was coming back from vacation, traffic came to a dead stop because there was a 12 foot long python chilling out in the middle of the road IN A CITY. It had just had lunch (hence the bulge in its stomach).
I was bitten by red ants in my backyard and the bite swelled to the size of a quarter. You can see the ants on the National Geographic channel.
Talya (my roommate) was stung by poisonous coral while doing coral eco-relief the other day.
I saw a bright red snake near my house. Bright colors typically mean danger.
There was an awesome frog climbing on the walls of my garage and my neighbors said to stay away. Apparently it pees acid or poison or something.
I was working at the local orphanage when a monkey randomly climbed in the window and started going through my purse. I scared it and it hissed at me with its teeth bared.
A group of us went hiking in the forest (you can't really call it a jungle...it's more like North Carolina than the Amazon) and saw a bunch of orangutans in the trees. Apparently my friend was getting too close, because the male orangutan decided to pee right above him.
On a random note, we know the coral reefs near us don't have sharks because the locals would sell them for food in the market...and I have yet to see sharks in the market.
I miss spiders the size of quarters and snakes that aren't poisonous and frogs that don't climb on your wall and pee acid.
Also, look up Haplopelma. That's the type of tarantula that lives near my house.
Anyway, that's a piece of my life. If you're interested in learning more about my neighborhood, just turn on your TVs and watch Nat Geo.
Borneo is the third largest island in the world. It's HUGE. It's quite diverse in geography - from endless, dense jungle forests filled with orangutans and pythons to gorgeous sandy beaches with vast coral reefs to the towering giant Mount Kinabalu. The territory of Borneo is shared by three countries - Malaysia, Indonesia, and Brunei, with the majority of Borneo belonging to Indonesia and the northern territories belonging to the other two countries.
Borneo is also a bit crazy. Borneo's the island you hear about on National Geographic with the world's deadliest snakes and spiders. It's the one where 10 years go, people were cutting off each others' heads and posting them on spears in the midst of an ethnic conflict. It's also one of the two last places on the face of the earth where you can see orangutans, a quickly disappearing endangered species, in their natural habitat.
Here are a few of my everyday experiences living in one of the world's most fascinating places:
A week ago, a four foot long monitor lizard (think cousin of komodo dragons) just randomly walked across my backyard.
I went on cobra patrol at the local playground yesterday to make sure none were hanging around the kids I was supervising - and the park looks JUST like a park in the States, like in Michigan. It's not like I'm in the jungle at all.
Today, I was working on my computer when a spider bigger than a tarantula ran across my floor and refused to die when I sprayed it with bug spray. It had a HUGE body and long hairy legs and fangs. Not okay. I hope they're not poisonous. Talya and I think I might have a nest in my room, possibly in my mattress, so we BATHED my room/mattress in bug spray.
Two weeks ago, when I was coming back from vacation, traffic came to a dead stop because there was a 12 foot long python chilling out in the middle of the road IN A CITY. It had just had lunch (hence the bulge in its stomach).
I was bitten by red ants in my backyard and the bite swelled to the size of a quarter. You can see the ants on the National Geographic channel.
Talya (my roommate) was stung by poisonous coral while doing coral eco-relief the other day.
I saw a bright red snake near my house. Bright colors typically mean danger.
There was an awesome frog climbing on the walls of my garage and my neighbors said to stay away. Apparently it pees acid or poison or something.
I was working at the local orphanage when a monkey randomly climbed in the window and started going through my purse. I scared it and it hissed at me with its teeth bared.
A group of us went hiking in the forest (you can't really call it a jungle...it's more like North Carolina than the Amazon) and saw a bunch of orangutans in the trees. Apparently my friend was getting too close, because the male orangutan decided to pee right above him.
On a random note, we know the coral reefs near us don't have sharks because the locals would sell them for food in the market...and I have yet to see sharks in the market.
I miss spiders the size of quarters and snakes that aren't poisonous and frogs that don't climb on your wall and pee acid.
Also, look up Haplopelma. That's the type of tarantula that lives near my house.
Anyway, that's a piece of my life. If you're interested in learning more about my neighborhood, just turn on your TVs and watch Nat Geo.
Musings on education
There are many days where I'm deeply grateful to have another American as a housemate. I've had a week of quite unfortunate events, starting with a motorcycle accident that ruined my favorite pair of pants (the ones I always wear when I want to do yoga or relax, ironically) and left nasty, painful scrapes all across my body. Things escalated when I found a brown spider larger than a tarantula scurrying across my floor. Normally, I'm not the type to panic over arachnids, but large brown ones with fangs in a place like Borneo where so many insects are deadly...well, they don't belong in my bedroom. The fact that an entire can of bug spray didn't kill the unwelcome visitor is testament to how unreal these long-legged freaks are. Thank God for Talya's willingness to smash it with a shoe.
Today, however, is the icing on the cake of my week from hell. I came home today from probably the worst day in a long time (even worse than the accident). I spent all weekend and all of Sunday night preparing for a Valentine's Day party I planned to throw on Monday at school. I bought cookies, biscuits, and candy that I know my kids love. I worked all day when I wasn't teaching to prepare handmade Valentine cards for my kids, plus Valentine cards my mom sent me from the States for the students. My school is full of wonderful teachers who all willingly assisted me in my preparations and were incredibly enthusiastic about the party. I'm deeply grateful to them for all of their help - I couldn't have managed without them. I told my students there was a party and about a hundred of them showed up. Ibu Vivi, my counterpart teacher, helped me hang Valentine heart decorations and set up speakers for my music I planned to play.
I laid out the cookies on the table and was immediately mobbed by a hundred sweet students who turned into ravaging, selfish kids who took entire boxes of cookies for themselves. I do not work in an impoverished school, and I know that my kids have money to buy treats outside of school. Watching the students was horrifying experience that made me feel like I was back in an American middle (or even elementary) school. I started to pass out Valentines and was forced to dramatically raise my voice over the crowd of whining teenagers shouting "Me! Me! Me!" I couldn't get them to stop grabbing the bag of Valentines I tried so desperately to hold on to or to only take one Valentine. Several of them lied to me and told me they didn't have one so they could get multiple Valentines. I had set up music and decorations and planned to play games, but as soon as a Valentine card was in their hands, the students took off and went home. Most didn't even say thank you. To be fair, I was grateful for the few students who told me thank you and showed that they cared for my attempt to make English fun. However, I'm still disappointed that no one wanted to stay for my party, especially since I've spent 6 months trying to make learning English enjoyable and fun.
In truth, the most frustrating part of today is the realization that in spite of the progress I've made with my students, I still haven't changed the behavioral habits of students that impede the learning process. I've been trying so hard to motivate my students and spark their interest in English; yet, they're too lazy to come to English club or meet with me after school. I've given them my e-mail address, phone number, facebook...and only a few ever contact me to practice English. When I try to get them to participate in after school English activities or even field trips, I get the same response: "Malas, Ms. Rachel! We're lazy!" as they giggle and walk out the door. At the risk of sounding like a failure, I feel as though it is impossible to motivate them, eliminate the massive cheating problem I've discovered in the school, and inspire the kids to reach their dreams. I want my students to know that they can achieve anything they set their minds to if they work hard. Not a week goes by without someone saying, "Miss Rachel! I want to go to America! I want to study in America!" To make such dreams happen, though, you need to be active. Opportunities don't fall into your lap; you have to make them happen. I teach so many bright students at SMK Putra Bangsa; yet, they don't reach their full potential because they continually choose to shortcut and cheat. I try to motivate...and watch as they walk out the door, never truly believing they could have opportunities to go to America.
The shortcomings of the Indonesian education system continue to take me by surprise, even though I've lived here for 6 months. I shouldn't be surprised, though. I'm noticing a trend from the top down - a trend of laziness and inability to utilize time in a productive manner. The whole country seems to lack a work ethic - people openly admit that they're lazy and choose not to take action or find work. I continually see people take elongated work breaks, smoking outside their offices or business for well over an hour and a half. Every time I walk into the local department store (which, by the way, is seriously overstaffed), I consistently find only one cash register open and a long line of people standing there as 3 or 4 young sales clerks stand idly by, gossiping with each other. In the States, you'd be fired automatically, no protests allowed. I have to restrain myself at times from barking orders like a manager. Schools have so many holidays that it's odd to not have a week with a day or two (or seven) off. At many schools, teachers randomly cancel class for reasons as simple as not wanting to go to school that day. With a culture where such behavior permeates every part of society, it shouldn't be a surprise to me when my students choose not to participate in my activities because they'd rather hang out with friends. And yet, I was still disappointed today.
I find it incredibly frustrating at times to be in a country that appears to be devoutly Muslim and is very religious, yet scorns the Islamic principles of working hard and utilizing the skills that Allah gave them. It seems incredibly contradictory for people to be so religious and yet be so unmotivated and, in some cases, corrupt. In fact, at times, people even use Islam as a means of justifying lazy behavior and poor decisions.
I'll give you an example. There is a middle-aged man in my town who has a wife and ten kids. He once held a solid position as a lecturer at a prestigious university in a city in my province. One day, he decided he would quit his high-paying job, move to a small town, and sit around and meditate on the hereafter. He felt like Allah was calling him to sit at home and be religious. He lives in a tiny shack with his ten children and his wife is forced to make ends meet by running a small shop in front of the shack. I asked a friend of his, a devout Muslim man, if he agreed with the man's lifestyle choice, to which the friend replied "Your first duty to Allah is being a responsible person and caring for your family." I've met quite a few people like this man. I'm not sure how they can adhere to Islamic principles while neglecting personal responsibilities. To me, this seems like a contradiction.
Today, one of my co-teachers and I were talking about unemployment in Indonesia. She said if people are unemployed, they apply for government work. The government provides jobs, which one can speculate lead to bribery money and privileges. She stated that there is no incentive for people to find employment at small businesses or corporations when they know the government will hand them a job. Hearing this, I feel like the political and economic situation in this country is ridiculously broken and it's trickling down through the education system. The same lazy attitude and desire for easy money, in my opinion, is impeding many Indonesians from pursuing quality education. Such problems pose a danger to a developing democracy. If the education across Indonesia is often incredibly poor, how can people participate in good governance and government accountability? How can people vote for new leaders without records of vast corruption? People cheat on exams and never do their own work. There is much rote memorization and little development of critical thinking being taught in the schools (my school being an exception) and it makes me wince. People cheat, bribe, steal...and yet are devoutly Islamic. People aren't educated.
As I reluctantly gathered up my party decorations from my failed attempt at a holiday celebration, I was nearly in tears. My teachers were profusely apologetic, but didn't know how we could motivate students to stay and participate in after school English activities. Feeling discouraged, I returned home and walked into my kitchen to open one of Talya and my precious few beers...only to find Talya as frustrated as I was. She told me how horrible her day had been - how she prepared lessons and teachers cancelled class (happens all the time here because many teachers don't care about education) and how she was stressed. We spent the next few minutes venting about the problems of the Indonesian education system. I opened my beer and Talya, the public health student, confessed she'd just finished a cigarette. On a day like today, we definitely needed an American roommate.
Today, however, is the icing on the cake of my week from hell. I came home today from probably the worst day in a long time (even worse than the accident). I spent all weekend and all of Sunday night preparing for a Valentine's Day party I planned to throw on Monday at school. I bought cookies, biscuits, and candy that I know my kids love. I worked all day when I wasn't teaching to prepare handmade Valentine cards for my kids, plus Valentine cards my mom sent me from the States for the students. My school is full of wonderful teachers who all willingly assisted me in my preparations and were incredibly enthusiastic about the party. I'm deeply grateful to them for all of their help - I couldn't have managed without them. I told my students there was a party and about a hundred of them showed up. Ibu Vivi, my counterpart teacher, helped me hang Valentine heart decorations and set up speakers for my music I planned to play.
I laid out the cookies on the table and was immediately mobbed by a hundred sweet students who turned into ravaging, selfish kids who took entire boxes of cookies for themselves. I do not work in an impoverished school, and I know that my kids have money to buy treats outside of school. Watching the students was horrifying experience that made me feel like I was back in an American middle (or even elementary) school. I started to pass out Valentines and was forced to dramatically raise my voice over the crowd of whining teenagers shouting "Me! Me! Me!" I couldn't get them to stop grabbing the bag of Valentines I tried so desperately to hold on to or to only take one Valentine. Several of them lied to me and told me they didn't have one so they could get multiple Valentines. I had set up music and decorations and planned to play games, but as soon as a Valentine card was in their hands, the students took off and went home. Most didn't even say thank you. To be fair, I was grateful for the few students who told me thank you and showed that they cared for my attempt to make English fun. However, I'm still disappointed that no one wanted to stay for my party, especially since I've spent 6 months trying to make learning English enjoyable and fun.
In truth, the most frustrating part of today is the realization that in spite of the progress I've made with my students, I still haven't changed the behavioral habits of students that impede the learning process. I've been trying so hard to motivate my students and spark their interest in English; yet, they're too lazy to come to English club or meet with me after school. I've given them my e-mail address, phone number, facebook...and only a few ever contact me to practice English. When I try to get them to participate in after school English activities or even field trips, I get the same response: "Malas, Ms. Rachel! We're lazy!" as they giggle and walk out the door. At the risk of sounding like a failure, I feel as though it is impossible to motivate them, eliminate the massive cheating problem I've discovered in the school, and inspire the kids to reach their dreams. I want my students to know that they can achieve anything they set their minds to if they work hard. Not a week goes by without someone saying, "Miss Rachel! I want to go to America! I want to study in America!" To make such dreams happen, though, you need to be active. Opportunities don't fall into your lap; you have to make them happen. I teach so many bright students at SMK Putra Bangsa; yet, they don't reach their full potential because they continually choose to shortcut and cheat. I try to motivate...and watch as they walk out the door, never truly believing they could have opportunities to go to America.
The shortcomings of the Indonesian education system continue to take me by surprise, even though I've lived here for 6 months. I shouldn't be surprised, though. I'm noticing a trend from the top down - a trend of laziness and inability to utilize time in a productive manner. The whole country seems to lack a work ethic - people openly admit that they're lazy and choose not to take action or find work. I continually see people take elongated work breaks, smoking outside their offices or business for well over an hour and a half. Every time I walk into the local department store (which, by the way, is seriously overstaffed), I consistently find only one cash register open and a long line of people standing there as 3 or 4 young sales clerks stand idly by, gossiping with each other. In the States, you'd be fired automatically, no protests allowed. I have to restrain myself at times from barking orders like a manager. Schools have so many holidays that it's odd to not have a week with a day or two (or seven) off. At many schools, teachers randomly cancel class for reasons as simple as not wanting to go to school that day. With a culture where such behavior permeates every part of society, it shouldn't be a surprise to me when my students choose not to participate in my activities because they'd rather hang out with friends. And yet, I was still disappointed today.
I find it incredibly frustrating at times to be in a country that appears to be devoutly Muslim and is very religious, yet scorns the Islamic principles of working hard and utilizing the skills that Allah gave them. It seems incredibly contradictory for people to be so religious and yet be so unmotivated and, in some cases, corrupt. In fact, at times, people even use Islam as a means of justifying lazy behavior and poor decisions.
I'll give you an example. There is a middle-aged man in my town who has a wife and ten kids. He once held a solid position as a lecturer at a prestigious university in a city in my province. One day, he decided he would quit his high-paying job, move to a small town, and sit around and meditate on the hereafter. He felt like Allah was calling him to sit at home and be religious. He lives in a tiny shack with his ten children and his wife is forced to make ends meet by running a small shop in front of the shack. I asked a friend of his, a devout Muslim man, if he agreed with the man's lifestyle choice, to which the friend replied "Your first duty to Allah is being a responsible person and caring for your family." I've met quite a few people like this man. I'm not sure how they can adhere to Islamic principles while neglecting personal responsibilities. To me, this seems like a contradiction.
Today, one of my co-teachers and I were talking about unemployment in Indonesia. She said if people are unemployed, they apply for government work. The government provides jobs, which one can speculate lead to bribery money and privileges. She stated that there is no incentive for people to find employment at small businesses or corporations when they know the government will hand them a job. Hearing this, I feel like the political and economic situation in this country is ridiculously broken and it's trickling down through the education system. The same lazy attitude and desire for easy money, in my opinion, is impeding many Indonesians from pursuing quality education. Such problems pose a danger to a developing democracy. If the education across Indonesia is often incredibly poor, how can people participate in good governance and government accountability? How can people vote for new leaders without records of vast corruption? People cheat on exams and never do their own work. There is much rote memorization and little development of critical thinking being taught in the schools (my school being an exception) and it makes me wince. People cheat, bribe, steal...and yet are devoutly Islamic. People aren't educated.
As I reluctantly gathered up my party decorations from my failed attempt at a holiday celebration, I was nearly in tears. My teachers were profusely apologetic, but didn't know how we could motivate students to stay and participate in after school English activities. Feeling discouraged, I returned home and walked into my kitchen to open one of Talya and my precious few beers...only to find Talya as frustrated as I was. She told me how horrible her day had been - how she prepared lessons and teachers cancelled class (happens all the time here because many teachers don't care about education) and how she was stressed. We spent the next few minutes venting about the problems of the Indonesian education system. I opened my beer and Talya, the public health student, confessed she'd just finished a cigarette. On a day like today, we definitely needed an American roommate.
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