Words of Wisdom from a Kentuckian

Many of you know that I was rather disappointed that PC Indonesia isn't the roughin' it that I thought it'd be, so I was really encouraged to come across this quote on Will and Amy's blog:

"A country that is on the developmental rise like Indonesia isn't exactly a stereotypical Peace Corps country; which makes this such an exciting time to be here as the students that we are teaching have greater opportunities than ever before in this country and places an even great importance on learning English."

- Will Glasscock, PCV Indonesia 2012-2014



Semangat, all! (Have spirit!)

Some shots of proof that Indonesia is not the middle-of-nowhere, 

I'm-living-in-a-dirt-hut PC location. 

Batu's Wheel of Fortune...will it break or won't it as you ride??? 

My cushy livin' space, though I did recently just learn of my roommates, bedbugs. Already de-bugged yesterday!

PC Indonesia = TV and video games. Carrie knows all about the role of television in developing countries!!!

This business follows me everywhere! 

Mall of America or the Tunjungan Plaza in Surabaya, Indonesia? 

Fashion, put it all on me! Don't you want to see these clothes on me?

- Lady Gaga

I'm gonna call this the "traditional" shot. My host bro, Iqbal, looking uncharacteristically very Asian in this farmer's hat! He's the host bro that works out and is tall and buff, so this hat tones down his usually Western-style appearance!

              

Babies on Parade

Fadil sporting a cute character (winter) hat, not uncommon here...but it's 90 degrees, Indonesia!

Efi dresses Nylah to the nines every day!

When joining the PC, most volunteers probably tend to do what I did, and go buy some cargo pants, Keens or Tevahs, and some baggy white Hanes T-shirts. The reality of PC Indonesia is that wearing this makes one look like a slob!

From what I have observed, Indonesians, or at the very least the Javanese people in my community, take great pride in personal hygiene and appearance.

Check out this schedule:

4:30 AM: wake up for morning prayer time #1, do the ritual prayer washing, wudhu. This generally includes washing the face, hands, forearms, and feet (see details here on wudhu  here. Yes, that’s right, I’m using Wikipedia. It’s actually a reliable source for the most part, as so many people read it that mistakes are corrected instantly. I read a legit article about Wikipedia’s validity, an article which was not from Wikipedia!)

5-8 AM: Somewhere in here people take a bath, but I’m not sure when. Indonesians are quite sneaky about using the bathroom, I don’t frequently see them use it. After bathing, women powder their faces to absorb sweat later and to keep smooth skin. This time frame is also bathe your baby time #1. After the bath, oil down the baby’s body, then powder the whole body, resulting in the baby looking like this:

Adira after his daily afternoon mandi!

At first I was shocked to see this, as I thought that people were using skin-whitening. Indonesians are obsessed with being white, though the few people I have seen that are really white sorta just look sickly. I amaze them when I explain that white Americans love to look tanner!

Anyways…

12:30 PM: prayer time #2 wudhu.

1:30-4:30 PM: somewhere in this time frame, people tend to bathe again after work (work can end for farmers (I think…) and teachers between this time, so we can rest during the hottest part of the day). Powder down the body again, fresh clothes. Also, prayer time #3, wudhu. Bathe your baby time #2. Repeat oil and powder procedure. Darn, these babies are clean here, 2 baths a day!

5:30 PM: prayer time #4, wudhu.

6:30 PM: prayer time #5, wudhu.

So as you can see, Muslim Indonesians wash at least 5 times a day if praying, and all Indonesians take a bath in the morning and late afternoon. I admit I stick to just a face wash in the morning, meaning I pathologically lie when asked, “Did you already bathe this morning?” Which is asked like every day. “Why, yes, of course I did!” No one needs to know…

Anyways, Indonesians take great pride in appearance. Check out this fashion parade below!

Men's Style

Aang is wearing the traditional Muslim man's hat, a kopiah. It only has to be worn when going to the mosque, to pray, or to an important religious event, but many men wear it all the time. Adira is sporting a set of more traditional patterns, too!

Udik is wearing a saraong, potentially worn over pants though it seems inappropriate for me to ask!! Wearing a saraong follows the same rules as the kopiah. 

My host dad (far right) has 8 brothers and one sister. The brothers all look alike, especially his twin, far left! This is part of the crew getting ready to visit family to ask for forgiveness during Idul Fitri. We went in 2 cars...each car had 10 people in it. Brothers were literally pouring out of the front seat, the back seat, the trunk!!!

Ananda, PC training manager, sporting traditional batik.  According to PC, whenever in doubt, wear batik, you can't go wrong!

Indonesians love uniformity

Practicing for the Independence Day flag-raising ceremony

Students from my school wearing their gym uniforms. They wear these a full school day when then have gym. Complete with jilbab. 

This is the uniform students wear every day (color varies!)

All the teachers wore this government-issued batik on Independence Day. 

Independence Day, complete with a full-fledged student band! 

The dreaded khaki seragam (uniform). 

Oh boy!!!

Miss Sarah, ready to turn the tides of Mojoagung's English speaking skills! Huzzah!

Fortunately, Friday and Saturday are batik day at my school! 

Around the House

A saraong gifted to me by a friend from church. 

My neighbor sports a duster, the loose dress middle-aged woman wear around the house. 

Also gifted to me was this cardigan (?!), which took a long time to figure out how to wear, followed by much laughing at how ridiculous this thing is. But look, it's reversible, too! I have been using it as a tablecloth, don't tell my church friend!

My Bahasa Indonesia teacher, Pak Hengky, sporting a sweater in the 75+ degree heat because a) Batu is "cold" and b) he's going on his motorcycle. Hence the dust mask! 

Everyday dress in Batu consisted of the young people wearing Western clothes and the older women wearing Indonesian clothes!

I read on Amy's Blog that wearing the hijab (called a jilbab or krudung in Indonesia) is for some Muslim women a fashion statement more than anything. While most women I have spoken to wear it because they want to for religious reasons, I have definitely seen my fair share of crazy different ways to wear the jilbab that leads me to believe that it certainly is used as an expression of fashion, too. I really encourage you to read Amy’s post on the jilbab, it’s really thorough. Amy and Will are the married couple of our group, in their early 30s, hailing from KY!!! Their blog is hilarious and really informative, so feel free to follow it, too! http://twocupsofjava.wordpress.com/2012/07/31/the-one-about-the-jilbab/

And now... check out those jilbabs!

Bu Ya and Pak Ruslan on Idul Fitri.

Aan and Ellie!

Nurul on Idul Fitri. Wearing white indicates the purity of asking for forgiveness and starting over. But mostly I thought she looked like she was getting married! 

My ibu loves bling. Bright, shiny pins and sequins and frills with her clothing and jilbabs! 

Happy Idul Fitri! Here I am, going native!!!

Indonesia needs to sow more wild oats

Minal aidzin wal faizin. Mohon maaf lahir dan batin!

This is what Indonesians say to each other on Idul Fitri, the day after Ramadhan ends. It is the biggest day of celebration for Muslims, as the month of fasting is over and it is the start of the new year on the Muslim calendar. All sins are forgiven and they get to start again, clean. Sins are forgiven in a variety of ways that I have yet to learn, but a main one is to go around to all of your family, friends and neighbors on Idul Fitri and say this phrase, “Minal aidzin wal faizin. Mohon maaf lahir dan batin!”  while shaking their hand. The first sentence is Arabic, the second Indonesian. It roughly translates to, “I ask for your forgiveness for all of my sins from the deepest parts of my heart.” My host sibilings and I went around to the neighbors and family together (in my village, the neighbors are the relatives!). We enter, say what we need to say, and then sit for a bit on a rug on the floor, are encouraged to eat homemade snacks, and then after about 5 minutes go on to the next house. Repeat approximately 20 times!

My host nephews and I on Idul Fitri. 

Knocking each other over!

Indonesia needs to sow more wild oats

Before coming to Indonesia, people commented, “I hope you like rice.”

Boy, I didn’t know what was in store for me.

Let me begin with the awesome book Golden Arches East, a book I read at Carleton College for Van’s “Anthropology and/of Globalization” class. Golden Arches East is an ethnological study of McDonald’s in various East Asian countries, Indonesia not included. This book’s findings were, first of all, really accessible, so I recommend you read the book! Secondly, the authors found that in many of the countries they studied, people loved to snack on food at McDonald’s. And by “snack,” they meant a hamburger, fries, and soda. A snack. Yes, that’s right, it doesn’t matter how much other food you eat, if you haven’t eaten copious amounts of rice, you haven’t eaten a meal yet.

Which brings me to my current dilemma. Indonesians are Asians. While not all Asians are rice-obsessed, Indonesians are.

As I prepared to come to Indonesia, when people asked me how I felt about rice, I answered, “I like rice, and I hear there is nasi goreng (fried rice), which is delicious, so I’m ready!”

Oh, the naïve answer of one who has not yet eaten rice every day. Oh wait, let me clarify, three times a day.

Plain white rice, too. Not often enough do I get the promised, slightly spicy, makes your nose run like a faucet nasi goreng.  Nope, the plain white rice, right off the field.

So you can imagine how that optimist girl from the Midwest is feeling about rice now.

She’s gone.

Replaced by the American-who-unceasingly-searches-for-grain-other-than-rice. I have successfully found oatmeal and eat it for breakfast every day now, though it is imported or something, because no one seems to know what oats are (hence my clever title, Indonesia, sow more oats!)!

Perhaps appropriately, the first question Indonesians tend to ask me is, “Bisa makan nasi?” (Can you eat rice?) As though Americans can’t digest it or something? I say, “Ya, bisa!” (Yes, I can!) Then half of the time this question is followed by, “But Americans usually eat bread every day, yes?” And then I have to explain that we don’t have anything that we eat every day, that at least in my life and circle of people I know, we eat different things every day. The other half of the time the “can you eat rice?” question is followed by, “But there isn’t any rice in America, right?” Oh dear, where did that rumor come from? Fortunately, I met the right Peace Corps volunteers who set me straight on rice consumption in the US. Had I not met Mike and Lea, I would have said that Americans only eat rice 2-3 times a week, max. But Mike’s Asian family and Lea’s Latin American family eat rice every day, so now I can more accurately explain to Indonesians the American diet. My answer? “It depends on the person’s culture…” Which may still be followed by, “Oh, but you still eat bread every day, right?” Well, at least people are proving consistent in their thoughts, if not correct…!

On of my other favorite questions to answer about food is, “Have you tried ____________ yet?” To which I get to laugh to myself and answer, “Most of the foods that I try I do not know the names of!” While I personally find this hilarious, that I have no idea what the name of the food I am eating is, I’m not sure that I’m conveying that clearly to Indonesians. No one seems to think it’s as funny as me that sometimes I have no idea what I am eating.

Fun with food:

For breaking fast with my school, I definitely took just the head of a fish, to which all the women laughed and discreetly took my plate back up and got the actual body of the fish with the meat for me. Good thing, cause I’m not about to eat a fish head, its practically just bone. Whoops.

I’ve been offered fried intestine crackers (no, thank you!), accidentally eaten chicken liver (which I promptly spit out), and have successfully avoided all talk of chicken feet thus far…chicken feet…there isn’t even any meat…what do you eat??! (Note: just consulted my host brother…you just suck on the foot and then spit it out. Okay, probably not gonna try that!)

A rundown on a typical meal in Indonesia:

Breakfast:
Oatmeal and juice, bought with my stipend…until I realized that buying juice once a week is expensive. But then someone pointed out even if after two years I save my PC stipend and have 3 million Rupiah, that’s only $300. I think I’ll keep buying juice.

Lunch:
RICE. Plus some of the following food, it varies:
- tempe goreng (from soybeans, but NOT tofu, gross!)

- ayam (chicken) goreng

- ikan (fish) goreng (sensing a trend here? goreng = fried)

- sayur (veggies), always cooked, not safe to eat raw. A mixture of potatoes, carrots, cabbage,  green beans, onions, garlic, and some other things that I don’t know and try to avoid cause let’s face it I’m still a selective eater!
- occasional fruit- honeydew, watermelon (To which people always ask, “Is there watermelon in the US? Honeydew?!”)

Dinner:

Repeat lunch options, sometimes the same food that has been sitting out all day. (Eggs aren’t really refrigerated here, either. But I’m still alive!)

In other food news…

So occasionally, the real good stuff happens. Nasi goreng (fried rice), nasi pecel (white rice with a spicy sauce, bean sprouts, green beans, and peyek, which is best described as a chip but really you’ll just have to try it in 2 years when I bring it home!), sate ayam (chicken sautee in a delicious peanut sauce), and then, the best of it all, es buah (fruit ice) or es oyen (something ice, not sure what oyen translates to!). This es is literally just water, sweet and condensed milk, and jello/tapioca/fruit chunks, but it could not be more delicious on a hot day here! I will def make it for you all when I come home!

 Peyek, like a chip.
Photo courtesy of Google

Bikang, like a spongier cupcake! Yum! 
Photo stolen from another volunteer, Katie.

Cuncum, a custard-filled pastry. 
Photo stolen from another volunteer, Katie.

Nasi pecel. 

Photo courtesy of Google.

Sate ayam, a new favorite!
Photo stolen from another volunteer Maurice.

Duku, my new favorite fruit. Unfortunately only in season for a few months in late spring, I think! Size reference: the size of one of those really big, almost black grapes with the annoying seeds in the middle.
Photo courtesy of Google

Anyways, a test of my cultural relativity came when I woke up with a very sore throat the other day. I still can’t swallow food or drink without severe pain, but don’t worry, I’m still eating thru the pain and taking meds! My ibu and bapak told me, “Oh, it’s because you drank too many cold drinks.” Now a) that is ridiculous, and b) I didn’t drink any more cold drinks than they did, and we only drank one es buah in a week. So I tried my best to bite my tongue and agree that yes, clearly I was at fault for drinking too many cold drinks, but sometimes you gotta stick up for yourself here or you’ll be laughed at for all sorts of dumb things. 

My favorite drink, es buah! The drink that allegedly made me sick because I drank too many cold drinks. Okay, Indonesia...
Photo courtesy of Google

Case in point. I took my medicine for this throat sickness with soda. My family all screamed with fear when I did it. Yes, I acknowledge that it is better to take meds with water, but I do not fear the results of soda and medicine mixed. After all, we always drink ginger ale or sprite right after taking medicine in the US. But Indonesians literally believe that you will die. Yes, DIE if you drink soda with medicine. My host sister frantically pounded on my door this morning, checking to see if I was still alive. I think they think I'm a superperson now, as I lived to tell the story of drinking soda and medicine.  

Just for good measure in this food post, an old picture from the pasar during training. Sam offering a great reaction to the raw chickens that will inevitably be fried later...

The following photos are all one day when my family cooked from 6 AM to about 3 PM. A common Ramadhan tradition in small communities is to prepare boxes of treats  to give to the neighbors.  The package full of sweet treats is called Songgongan, and if the box contains a meal and not sweet treats, it is called berkat. 

Lumpur, as close to a cupcake as you can get!

Songgongan boxes, with the sweet food.

Acar (cucumbers and carrots, also fried of course). 

Frying begedel, made from mashed potatoes then coated in egg and fried. 

The finished products!

What Kind of Peace Corps Volunteer Are You? A Helpful Personality Quiz.

This quiz was written by Emily, another volunteer in Indonesia, and I simply had to share it!

• When you sat down for your interview with a Peace Corps recruiter, you were most excited to discuss:

1.     The likelihood of getting to meet President Obama.

2.     How much you enjoy serving underdeveloped communities.

3.     Your wide variety of food and medical allergies.

4.     Your plans for stripping back Western life’s cushy amenities.

5.     The Peace Corps countries with the best beaches.

• The first thing you did upon receiving your Invitation to be a Peace Corps Trainee was:

1.     Notify your local newspaper and university alumni network.

2.     Start googling poverty stats in your country of service.

3.     Research poisonous insects and reptiles in your country. Good news, there are 45 kinds of fire ants alone!

4.     Meditate.

5.     Buy the Lonely Planet on your country of service and check out the best adventure vacations.

• During the week before Staging and departure, you:

1.     Hosted a farewell dinner for yourself, with several local public officials in attendance.

2.     Gave most of your worldly possessions to local charities.

3.     Found out Peace Corps lost your medical clearances, and needs you to go get some last minute blood tests.

4.     Finished packing your solitary day pack, complete with one pair of shoes and not a single electronic device.

5.     Got your scuba diving certificate and complete forty hours of sea plane piloting.

• It’s mid-way through Pre-Service Training. You are feeling:

1.     Tired from staying up so late with the village leaders drinking mystery concoctions.

2.     Upset that most host country nationals you meet just want to talk about Justin Bieber, and not raising labor wages. Don’t they know they need help?

3.     Nauseous. Probably should’ve turned down that organ meat delicacy.

4.     Irritated that you have to spend so much time in groups.

5.     On top of the world—literally, you just went on a weekend trip to the highest mountain in the country.

• The worst thing that could happen when you get to your permanent site is:

1.     Not being taken seriously.

2.     Being placed in a community whose greatest need is more reliable wifi.

3.     Getting hit by a motorcycle while trying to community map and then getting mugged by the driver, waking up to a group of large spiders on the inside of your mosquito net, malaria… the list is endless.

4.     Home Stay

5.     Really, nothing can bother you. You’re in a foreign country on PC dime. There is no downside.

Mostly 1s: The Resume Builder

PCVs aren’t granola crunchy hippies anymore. You’re a shrewd Type-A who knows that being an RPCV provides an impressive name drop for interviews, builds connections, and offers a killer Masters Fellowship program. You’re here to complete your service efficiently, with hopefully several successful community projects in your portfolio you can present to future employers. Making friends with other PCVs is important, because who knows who they might be related to back home! You probably text with your Country Director frequently.

Mostly 2s: The White Knight

Sometimes you cry during that infomercial for the Humane Society. You know, the one with the Sara McLachlan song? You’re a bleeding heart idealist who probably starts ranting about societal injustice after a drink or two at the bar. You are a Peace Corps volunteer because you want to HELP PEOPLE, because they are LESS FORTUNATE.  You may feel a lot of American Liberal Guilt when strangers ask to take your picture, praise your few broken sentences of host country language in smooth English, or ask you how much your DSLR camera costs. Never ride a becak, you will hate yourself.

Mostly 3s: The Poor Sap

A special kind of PCV… you could have any reason for being a volunteer, but it doesn’t change the fact that the universe is conspiring against you. Improbably bad circumstances seem to find you, no matter how well you try to assimilate. It is a given that you will get sick—repeatedly—with little hope of ever adjusting to the weather, cuisine, or customs. Don’t even think about brushing your teeth with unbottled water. If you were a motivational poster, you would be a kitten desperately clutching a branch- Hang in There!

Mostly 4s: The Walden Pond-erer

You’re trying to set sail from safe harbors, suck the marrow from the bones, and some other Transcendentalist quotes. Peace Corps is about self-improvement and living without all the complications back home, like YouTube. You want to blend seamlessly into a new culture without any American luxuries like blogging and iPods. You pictured service as a chance to ponder human nature, ideally alone on a quiet mountain top, feeling the wind against your Tevas. You kind of resent Peace Corps for requiring you to own a cell phone.

Mostly 5s: The Wave Chaser

Peace Corps is, in your opinion, a two year vacation punctuated by some work. You were very specific in your site placement interview that it should be near an international airport. You’re probably assigned to an unstructured field like Community Development (the Communication Studies of Peace Corps, perhaps?). Your training village mates voted you as Most Likely to Get Sent Home for Riding a Motorcycle. Be that as it may, you’re probably having the best time of all the volunteers, and definitely the best tan.

all meant in love. I mean, who doesn’t cry at that freaking Humane Society commercial?

It’s 7 PM. Do you know where your prayer rug is?

I am happy to say that my time in Indonesia has already taught me a lot about Islam, and I have developed a much deeper understanding of the faith. For example, yesterday I discussed wearing a hijab with my friends. Their reasons were thus: if a man sees a woman not wearing a hijab and short shorts and a tank top, he will desire her. Therefore, women wear hijabs and long clothing. I asked if it made them upset that they had to do something that would make them hotter and sweater just because men had a problem controlling their thoughts, and they said, no, they are used to it. It’s just normal. And there are various teachings. Some women must be completely covered, everything but their eyes. It depends on the imam’s teachings. The Muslims in Mojoagung with me are in the middle, not uncovered but not totally covered.

The more I thought about it, though, I realized that I do the same thing in the US. I do not wear shorts that are too short and I do not wear low cut tops a) because let’s face it I’m not stick thin, b) because I do not feel comfortable, and c) because I do not want unwanted attention. Just like the women here, I choose to dress in a way that respects my body while protecting me from unwanted stares. The level to which we cover up is simply different. Asking me to come to school in short shorts, where I would clearly be uncomfortable with glances, is like asking a Muslim woman to go to school and not wear a hijab. She feels too revealing. We have the same intentions, Muslim women and I, but manifest this with different levels of covering ourselves up.

Last night I spoke with my host sister-in-law and received a really big compliment. She said that her parents were really surprised by me. “How can she eat our food?” “How come she wants to learn about Islam?” “How does she feel at home here?” They didn’t think an American would want to do all of these things, yet here I am, always going for the shock factor (Sam, think cockroach!) This is a really big compliment to me, that they are surprised (yet presumably pleased!) that I am learning about their faith and culture.

This being said, it was only natural to “go native” as we say in anthropology, and go pray at the mosque with my family!

Allaahu Akbar. Allaahu akbar. Allaahu Akbar. Allaahu akbar Asyhadu an laa ilaaha illallaah. Asyhadu an laa ilaaha illallaah. Asyhadu anna Muhammadar rasuulullaah. Asyhadu anna Muhammadar rasuulullaah. Hayya ‘alash-shalaah. Hayya ‘alash-shalaah. Hayya ‘alal-falaah. Hayya ‘alal-falaah. Allaahu Akbar. Allaahu akbar. Laa ilaaha illallaah.

God is Great! God is Great! God is Great! God is Great! I testify that there is none worthy of worship except God. I testify that there is none worthy of worship except God. I testify that Muhammad is the messenger of God. I testify that Muhammad is the messenger of God. Come to prayer! Come to prayer! Come to success! Come to success! God is Great! God is Great! There is none worthy of worship except God.

This is the call to prayer that I hear 5 times a day, at approximately 4:30 AM, 12:30 PM, 3:30 PM, 5:30 PM, and 7 PM. Oh yeah, I can’t forget to mention that this call to prayer is blasted over a loudspeaker that, while about a block away from my window, magically sounds like it is 1 foot from my window. Miraculously, sometimes I sleep through the call to prayer at 4:30 AM. Sometimes.

The Islamic faith has five pillars, one of which is to sholat, or pray, five times a day. The other four pillars are: proclamation of faith (“There is no God but Allah and Mohammad is his prophet”), tithing, fasting during Ramadhan, and visiting Mecca at least once as an adult if financially able.

Naturally, my interest in understanding the manifestation of God in other faiths led me to ask my host family if I could follow them to the mosque on Monday night and sholat with them. I borrowed a prayer rug, slipped on my host sister’s long skirt (that I’d pull down over my feet once entering the mosque to pray) and a hijab that went down to my waist. This skirt and hijab were so long because women’s feet and hands can’t be showing during prayer. Simply a rule!

I told my host mother, “Ibu, saya tidak bisa lebih siap untuk ikut ke musholla! Saya selesai menstruasi, sudah mandi, dan pakai jilbab!”  Of course she cracked up, because I had just testified, “Ibu, I could not be more ready to follow you to the musholla (small mosque)! I am done menstruating (not allowed to enter the mosque if you are), I already showered, and I am wearing a hijab!”

I’ve only been inside a mosque a few times in my life, and I have watched Muslims pray approximately three times in my life, including two Eid al’Fitr service sat Carleton, and once during high school when I visited a Muslim camp with my God camp (Youth in Theology and Ministry, shout out to St. John’s and St. Ben’s in Collegeville, MN!) I may have prayed with the women at that point, but I don’t recall…

Anyways, this was the first time I was doing it right! Excuse me, Lauren and Danielle, this was the first time I was doing it correctly. After dawning my prayer clothes and slipping off my sandals outside the mosque, I lined up in the last row of women (women in this mosque prayed on the right side of a curtain, men on the left, but it can also be women on the left, men on the right, OR men in front, women in back), I placed my prayer mat facing Mecca, and was ready for action.

Usually the 7 PM prayer is about 10 minutes long, but it is Ramadhan, so I was attending the regular prayer time followed by Teraweh. The next 40 minutes basically consisted of standing, bending at the waist, prostrating with my forehead touching the ground, and sitting. The Isya’ prayer time (the regular night prayer) consists of doing this 4 times, so it’s a repeating system.  Teraweh is the same series of motions and prayers, but done in sets of 2, up to 11 times. At each stage of the prayer, people say the Arabic prayer to themselves, so I just did my own prayers.

So logistics aside, how did I feel being there?

I loved it!

One of the hardest things about leaving the Christian community at Carleton (though it was easy to leave behind the feelings that I had to hide my liberal identity and silently disagree with some people’s conservative theology) was the lack of Christian community after graduating. I thrive in community and moving to St. Paul lacked the built-in college community of young people seeking how to be better people. Or at least I didn’t find the right group in St. Paul. So being here at the mosque among believers was so comforting. So natural. Everyone praying together, moving in sync.

The only critique I have about the experience is the lack of time for personal prayer. As Christians, we have a lot of freedom in how we pray, when we pray, why we pray. During this exercise of ups and downs at the mosque (putting our Catholic calisthenics to shame, I may add!), there wasn’t much time for personal prayer. Or if there was, I missed it trying to make sure I wasn’t standing when everyone was sitting and vice versa! Praying with one eye open is not my preferred way of prayer, but that’s life for a first-time mosque-goer!

Anyways, I love being in a country where God is so present. God’ s power is different, here, though. I have gleaned (mainly from a conversation with my host mom and host sister, so sample size n=2) that Muslims can lead a somewhat stressful life of trying to please God by following all the rules and doing good because God will judge you after death. This reaffirms for me my freedom in being a Christian. I don’t have to do anything but believe in who Jesus was and what he did. While this is liberating, I also experience some guilt about this free pass. Does believing in Jesus’ sacrifice make Christians lazy and complacent? We know that we are always forgiven, so what is stopping us from doing bad things over and over again? I suppose the idea is that the more we don’t do bad things, the closer we become to God and the more we want to please God, therefore resulting in us striving not to be bad. Still, I think that the humility that Muslims practice is something to be better explored by Christians. Though the fear of God’s judgment is something I can live without…

From the Classroom:

Frustration begins to arise in the Indonesian classroom. My 10-2 class was interrupted yesterday for an administrator to come in and make the students clip their nails.

Naughty student? While Ms. Prather in Central High School would stop the class and wait for the student to be quiet, and occasionally send a student out of the class to think about their behavior, Indonesian teachers simply tug their ear. Reminiscent of the USA elementary school classroom in 1850? I think so! 

The ability to write what is on the board and listen to the teacher at the same time escapes Indonesian students. (Though to be fair, they never learn to do this in the first place.) I should start a stopwatch of how much teaching time will be sucked up by standing there in silence waiting for students to copy what’s on the board… today, 7 minutes to write 10 phrases.

I may take to just walking out of the classroom and not coming back when students just laugh nervously and take more than 10 seconds to respond to the simply question, “How are you?” I will try to be patient, but I don’t care how poorly you were taught English through all of elementary and middle school, you should be able to respond to this one question as a 10^th grader.

Goal number one with my counterparts? To encourage them to go to class on time when the bell rings. Usually we are between 5-10 minutes late, because they are still chatting with other teachers, no big deal.

In other words, there is a lot of work to be done here in Mojoagung…

In other news:

I think I prevented my principal from being stalked by a foreigner. He received a Facebook message from an alleged “Peter” from the UK. My principal isn’t fluent in English, just words here and there. So he used Google to translate Peter’s English message, which asked for Indonesian contacts because he is coming to Indonesia on business. My principal wrote a response, graciously including his name, phone number, and address. Thank the Lord he showed me the message before he sent it, or Peter could have shown up at his house! I explained to him that this Peter was probably not legit. Businessmen from the UK do not ever start a message with “Hello dear” and use poor punctuation.

Indonesians do not drop everything and watch the Olympics like we Americans do, and I miss it! I tried to find out when I could tune into watching gymnastics and swimming here, but it is simply not aired. What is aired, you ask? Why, soccer and badminton, of course! Indonesian favorites! But they air live at 1 AM, so I’m not doing that. I guess that the Olympics is not as bit a deal here when your country only has 22 athletes as compared to the US’s 530 athletes. I still miss it, though! 

I visited a neighboring village the other day to check out the shoe production…all made by hand, wow! When we asked around if they could make sandals for me, everyone said, “Size 43? No! We don’t make shoes bigger than 40!” Well shoot! Finally, we found who would, and I picked out the size, color, style. Then she asked, “How many do you want?” I said, “Just one pair, for me!” She said, “Oh, you can’t! You must order at least 20!” Turns out, this is a village that mass produces shoes. No one wants to make one big pair (excuse me, size 9-9 ½ is not THAT big!!) for the bule!