Mbak Bro!

Most of my students, both middle school and university, fear speaking English because they are worried about making grammatical mistakes. Every time my students say this, I always try to express that their grammatical mistakes are okay. As long as I understand the meaning, mistakes are all right. The point is communication. If they can communicate, I don’t care if they misuse the present perfect progressive tense. To be perfectly honest, I’m not even sure what that tense is trying to describe.

I try to practice what I preach. I always intentionally, and unintentionally, make mistakes when I speak Indonesian with my students. To err is human. Peace Corps suggested that making these mistakes makes us seem more human to our American-glorifying students, which should in theory make them more comfortable being human with us.

The one instance I surprised myself embracing my humanness was when I responded to “Mas,” which is the identifying term for male in Java. My hair has always been short in this country. It’s just too hot to keep it long. Since having short hair isn’t common in Indonesia, especially in the village, people often mistake me for a boy. I usually just correct them and explain that Americans have flexible style options for both men and women. They usually apologize and seem super embarrassed once I correct them. Not a big deal.

But that one instance I responded to “Mas” was a bit confusing for me. Indonesia has pretty strict gender roles. I’m feminine, but I don’t really fit in. Maybe my not fitting in has allowed me to float around in terms of gender roles. I can be feminine and masculine at the same time. My close Indonesian friends seem to understand this, too, because they call me “Mbak Bro.” Mbak is the identifying term for female in Java. The original term of endearment is “Mas Bro,” which roughly translates to “dude” or “boss.” But because I’m female they’ve tried to integrate my floating personality into the term. In my opinion, it makes the endearment so much more endearing.

As soon as I realized I just responded when someone called out “Mas,” my first thought was:

“What the fuck is wrong with me? Who am I?”

But then I realized that those people don’t mean to disrespect or judge me for having short hair as a female. They are just trying to communicate. And since I want to practice what I preach to my students, I’m okay responding to that term.

Wilson

As much as I’ve developed professionally here, I’m still dealing with the same personal problem. In the film Cast Away, Tom Hanks’ character gets stranded on an island by himself. His only companion is a Wilson volleyball that he names “Wilson.” His friendship with Wilson is explained by desperation. There is no other person on this island with him, and he personifies the volleyball and develops a complex relationship with it.

I want to preface that I’m not comparing my Peace Corps service to being stranded on a deserted island by myself. I have plenty of support here and at home. I am also not comparing the person I’ve identified as my Wilson as being less than human. But I have developed a complex relationship with a Wilson that has harmed as well as improved my overall service.

I found my Wilson eight months ago. The ways Wilson has harmed my service:

• Avoiding certain areas of school so that I wouldn’t have to run into Wilson and in turn, not being able to socialize with certain people 
• Getting unreasonably sad every time Wilson neglects me 
• Causing me to develop an unhealthy relationship with him, a community member I’m supposed to serve as part of my service 

The ways Wilson has improved my service:

• Allowing me to explore past my comfort zone in terms of personal relationships 
• Helping me improve my Indonesian language skills 
• Keeping me busy with other activities in the community in trying to avoid interaction 

For the past eight months, I’ve been debilitated by this relationship. There have been many good experiences with Wilson, and many bad. I quickly learned how to control my destructive outward feelings towards Wilson, but it’s all still there internally.

There’s only 14 months left of my service. If I were to choose to extend a third year, my Wilson would be a major factor in the final decision. I still feel successful as a Peace Corps volunteer. Wilson doesn’t change that. I’m doing things I never thought I could do. I feel like a leader here. I fully intend to continue that feeling back home, but am I willing to prolong this relationship? I don’t know. I just know that I’m excited for the opportunity for Wilson to cast away from my life the way he did for Tom Hanks’ character. It’ll be an incredibly sad moment to see Wilson float away from my life raft, but I’ll be entirely ready when he does. Because when he does, it means that I’ll finally be able to escape the island.

Content

Tonight I had the good fortune of being alone at school, smoking underneath a fan, and listening to Adele on my laptop. I was so at peace I didn’t know if I was happy or sad.

I texted this to my friend, and she responded:

“It sounds peaceful. Just be content.”

I’m pretty content in my village. I think I’ve integrated well and have developed good relationships with my community members. As Peace Corps volunteers, we have lifestyle restrictions. We need to be respectful of Indonesian culture. For the most part, it’s made me evaluate the things that matter most. I’ve simplified my life through this experience.

On the other hand, I’m constantly worried if what I’m doing is culturally appropriate while at the same time trying to keep my American values. As a result, I don’t get to experience a lot of peace within myself. I want to be a good volunteer, and I also want to be true to myself. So when I do get those few chances to do exactly what I want and feel comfortable doing it, I feel a bit uneasy.

But tonight I pushed a few chairs together underneath the fan, lay down on the chairs, and lit a cigarette. My iTunes playlist went to Adele’s “First Love,” and I could hear the rain outside. Only the security was at school, so it was quiet. It was peaceful. And since it was peaceful, I had the opportunity to just daydream. I felt a bit uneasy, but I let my mind wander. It was the most relaxing ten minutes I’ve had in a long time. I daydreamed and felt at ease. So I guess I can call that content. 

Mutual Respect

During my Islamic middle school’s trip to Bali, one of my English teachers said he felt very disrespected by the behavior of the foreigners. They wear bikinis, drink alcohol, and engage in inappropriate physical behavior with each other.

Before coming to Indonesia, I didn’t know this was a very conservative culture. I’m still surprised by how conservative it is, and I’ve been living here for a year. Furthermore, before moving to our respective villages, the Peace Corps volunteers were educated about the Indonesian education system and its culture for three months, yet many of us are still adjusting. My English teacher, who I consider a close friend, said foreigners should research and see what’s appropriate in Indonesia before coming here. I told him:

“I’ve been living here for a year and am still confused by what’s appropriate, and my job is to figure out how to integrate. How can you expect better from a tourist whose main goal is to enjoy life the way he or she knows how?”

That leads to my point: the foreigners in Bali are tourists. They are on vacation. Bali caters to the Western lifestyle, so Westerners will be attracted to vacationing there. They most likely don’t know when they are being disrespectful to the Indonesian culture.

The same applies to my time here. There are some Indonesian behaviors that I consider disrespectful to my culture. Eastern and Western cultures are incredibly different, and that’s okay. But it does prove challenging when I face situations that make me feel incredibly disrespected that I want to go home. Things I consider incredibly private and taboo are openly discussed here. It’s my job to try to understand and accept the differences. It’s not my job to judge or change.

I expressed to my English teacher that I try really hard to understand cultural behaviors foreign to me, and I expect him to try to understand that the foreigners in Bali don’t know they’re being disrespectful the same way Indonesians don’t know they’re being disrespectful to me unless I tell them.

We can’t hate people for being ignorant. We should, instead, use that opportunity to understand that difference isn’t bad. Difference is great, and understanding difference is respectful.

Big Fish

In my small Indonesian village, I’m kind of a big deal. People I don’t know greet me by name every day. It’s kind of strange. I’m a big fish in a small pond, and that kind of power is attractive and really seductive. It’s a kind of celebrity status, and I’m really enjoying it.

But like Ben Parker once said, “With great power comes great responsibility.” The community expects a lot from me. They seem to assume that because I’m American, I know how to do everything. That simply is not true. But sometimes that expectation pushes me to do things I’ve never done before and with a bit of practice, I actually can do anything.

I recently came across this question about capacity and perseverance:

“How would you behave if you were the best in the world at what you do?” – Maria Forleo

I like to think I’m behaving well. I try to be as culturally appropriate as possible with few exceptions. For example, it’s a huge cultural faux pas to eat while standing, let alone walking, but I still eat my apple while walking around the teachers’ office. I’m hungry, and I’ve got places to go!

Otherwise, it’s been a great learning experience. My American status has afforded me the reputation of being an expert at practically everything. While that can be unfair at times, it has also forced me out of my reserved shell. The people here believe in me. It’s so obvious. I worry sometimes that when I come back home to America, who will believe in me so willingly? Will the skills I’ve cultivated here transfer to my American lifestyle? It’s easy to feel superhuman here because people treat me as superhuman. I just hope I can continue that back home.

Everything And Nothing

Due to my excessive free time, I’ve come across a metaphysical phase of my Peace Corps experience. A fellow volunteer texted that she was bored one day. After I suggested she write a story, she said:

“I’m not a writer.”

To which I replied:

“We can’t be tied down by labels in Peace Corps. We are everything and nothing at the same time.”

She later clarified that she doesn’t like writing. But the point is we are given an immense amount of freedom to define the role we take in our Peace Corps community. That freedom can make us feel like we are both everything and nothing at the same time.

Most of the time, that freedom makes me crazy. Every now and then, I take on small projects. But they all seem like side projects based on community interests. Nothing seems unified. Even though my days are filled, I still feel like I’m doing nothing. There has yet to be a defining moment of this Peace Corps adventure. There’s yet nothing I can identify that brings meaning to everything I’ve been doing for the past eleven months.

I feel like I do nothing and am bombarded by feelings of everything. What should I have already accomplished at this time? Am I ready to consider extending a third year in Indonesia? How much rice have I eaten in the past year?

I realize that this problem is mostly about my expectations for this kind of service. I have so many things I want to accomplish, and I fully intend to take on more of my little projects that may seem so little to what I expect in the grand scheme of things. But today I am exhausted. I just want to do nothing by smoking, sipping coffee, and daydreaming for hours clad in a tank top. Considering that in this country it’s impolite for women to smoke and show too much skin and also dangerous for anyone to daydream in fear of devil possession, those precious moments doing exactly what I want are everything to me.

Westernization

One of the English teachers at my middle school asked for help to coach students for an English speech competition. Of course I wanted to help. My students are great at memorizing speeches, but they really need a lot of work on performance. I thought it would be a fun project to improve their public speaking.

The teacher handed me the speech the students found on the Internet (side note: it’s a common Indonesian practice to use speeches found on the Internet for speech competitions). Anyway, I scan the speech for grammatical and language errors. Then I come across the words, “Western” and “destructive” in the same sentence. I pause. I read closely from the beginning.

As it turns out the whole speech is a warning to the Muslim youth to avoid the destructive Western way of living. The first thought: Why the hell did they ask me, a Westerner, to edit this?

I felt a bit betrayed. Did they think I wouldn’t get offended? I mean I understand that there are some aspects of Western culture that go against Islamic teachings. And I respect those differences. Different cultures are bound to clash, but to outright say the Western way of living is destructive is offensive. As I fumed, I decided I’d reword the speech. Western should not be synonymous with bad in this country, and students should not be taught such.

Furthermore, I also realized that the students probably didn’t understand the speech when they found it on the Internet. They probably just Googled, “Good Muslim Values,” and this could have been the first speech to pop up. Regardless, if this speech is out there that means other people have access to it. I wanted to at least stop my students from potentially believing its close-mindedness.

After finishing the speech, I went straight to the teacher that gave me the speech and told her I thought it was incredibly close-minded and impolite to use the speech without my modifications. I said if the students believe that the Western way of living is destructive, what would they think of me? Would they respect me as a teacher? Would they like me as a person?

I just wanted to express that even though I may make lifestyle choices that go against another person’s religious beliefs, it does not mean I’m a bad person. It doesn’t mean that either person is bad. It just means we’re different. Different is not bad. It’s just different. And that’s okay.