Friday, November 15, 2013

Muslim Women, Western Women and the Hijab

I found this gem on the Indonesiaful blog that Fulbright English Teaching Assistants (EFAs) write. A "jilbab" is a Muslim woman's veil (headscarf) not be be confused with burqa, which covers more of the body than just the head. 





PERSONALLY WEARING A HIJAB 

When I first arrived, people were psyched for me to try on a hijab. I appeased them a few times: the two times I went to prayer, at an arisan (women gathering on a Sunday afternoon to recite the Al Qur'an), at a selamatan (reciting the Al Qur'an and praying for someone who has died), and breaking fast at my school (buka puasa). I wanted to be respectful. However, once I got to know people and they knew that I tried to go to church each week, they understood when I respectfully declined to wear a hijab essentially to anything.

The unfortunate frog-like appearance I take on when wearing a hijab...

At this point I haven't worn one and will not wear one probably for the entire second year I am here. I explain that I am Christian and I do not have to wear one. I respect that women here want to, but I do not. My explanation that I do not feel more beautiful wearing one is moot, as every time I do wear one the only thing I hear is people freaking out about how beautiful I look. (I disagree. I look frog-like and very sweaty- see above!).

I used to refute people's comments that I didn't wear a hijab because I'm Christian so I'm not comfortable doing so, but I stopped doing that when that explanation was, again, moot. I'd explain it to the lady sitting next to me that I was Christian so I didn't want to, and she would promptly turn to her friend and tell her friend that I was not wearing one because it was too hot. Those words never came out of my mouth (though it is too hot to wear one!), but I gave up trying to defend my reasons. Sometimes people in my village believe what they want to believe, even when I insist something else. Oy vey. Like "All Americans eat bread every day, right?" My answer, "No, but SOME do. Some eat rice every day." To which someone will turn to her neighbor and explain, "Americans love bread and eat it every day." Sheesh.


THE SOCIAL PRESSURE TO WEAR A HIJAB

It is obvious that at an Islamic high school, it is required that the women have to wear a hijab. They chose to go to this school, so they knew what the rules would be. At non-religious schools, many, many girls still wear hijabs. At some schools it is a girl's choice, at others it is required for all Muslim girls. But again, she chose to go to that school so she knew beforehand whether or not she would have to wear a hijab.


While I am happy that it is a girl's choice, one must also consider the social pressures of wearing a hijab. Perhaps the Muslim girls at non-religious schools have the choice to not wear a hijab and indeed prefer not to wear one. Perhaps many still are wearing one because of the social pressure to do so. Because of the religious significance behind wearing a hijab, I do not like the idea of a girl being pressured into wearing a hijab just because her friends are wearing one. Indeed, I'd be likely to commend a Muslim girl for not wearing a hijab because she doesn't want to do so. Choice is the most important thing to me.

THE "IS IT REALLY EVEN MAKING A DIFFERENCE?" HIJAB

I was fascinated by the insight another volunteer had about the Muslim women wearing hijabs here. This was his argument, paraphrased. "So the women are supposed to be wearing hijabs to detract attention from the lingering stares of men. Muslim Indonesian women ARE wearing hijabs, but look at them! The world of fashion for Muslim women is centered around big, bright, over-the-top hijabs, thus attracting attention. Make-up and skin whitening products are selling like hotcakes."

I would personally add that the skin-tight clothing I see women wearing along with a hijab also attracts attention. A lot of it. Thus...

"Is covering her hair making any difference?"

This is what I am left asking after I see a woman with a bright, big, trendy hijab coupled with make-up and tight clothing.

I get it. I'm not allowed to judge. I know and understand so little about the hijab culture. Other volunteers point out that it's great that the women are taking the hijab and making it their own. That is true, I like that aspect of it. Make that hijab your own! Claim it!

Yet I can't help but question, at what point is it worth wearing one if the only thing someone is not seeing is the color and length of your hair? Women are consciously dressing so people look at their slim bodies and their beautiful, make-up heavy faces. The only thing that is hidden is their hair. Is that the real intent of the hijab?



Wednesday, October 30, 2013

A little bit o’ this, a little bit o’ that

It is definitely true that the second year of Peace Corps flies by. While I have still be teaching, I have been investing a lot more time in travelling around the area and spending time with friends.

Here are some snapshots of the festivities I have been up to.


Riza’s wedding

Riza and Lia signing the legal documents
Riza is my close friend in Mojoagung. He is the 10th of 12 siblings (one person died though, as a baby) and my host cousin. 

Here it is, the picture I have been waiting for for 16 months. All 11 siblings!!!

Just a few of the grandkids...literally, just a few of them. There's about 35 and counting. 

We also work at schoo together. His journey to marry was a tumultuous one. He was dating a girl for about 3 years and wanted to marry her. However, his parents didn’t approve because they didn’t know her and didn’t want to get to know her. Additionally, they had already arranged weddings for all their other childern (save one), so they wanted to arrange Riza’s wedding, too. He was heartbroken but as a good Muslim son does, he did what his parents asked. He met with the first girl they wanted to set him up with, but he really wasn’t feeling it, so that quickly ended. The next girl, Lia, was apparently more his type because a few months later, they were married. How well did they really know each other before getting married is not clear, though my guess is not well. Riza’s other siblings hardly knew their spouse before marrying. One sister-in-law, Dia, told me that she was scared to marry Ria’s brother Lutfe. Lutfe had really long hair that he didn’t cut until the day before the wedding, so she thought he was a little crazy! Fit and Khuna, Riza’s sisters, married men about 10 years older than them.

Riza and Lia at the ceremony at her house. Check out that fancy background!
Anyhow, Riza and Lia clearly met a few times and got to know each other a little. At least to the point where Riza would come to school and I would be able to tell when he’d been to see Lia because he was so upbeat and smiley.

Me: “You just saw Lia, didn’t you!?”

Riza (huge smile): “Yes, how did you know?!”

Me: “You are beaming!”

Riza (blushing, if a brown-skinned Indonesian could blush, that is): Eeeeeeeeeee!

Aisyah and Salma, the cutest wedding attendees and Riza's nieces. 

Riza and I playing with Lia's hijab after she took it off! 

Riza (married the day before), brings Lia to his house, accompanied by her parents.

Costume change! This is at the reception at Riza's house.
Lia sans tons of make-up
Cooking up a storm!
Spying on Riza's make up session!
Al Banjarian. Riza's friends spice up (or maybe "holy" up) his wedding part with some Arabic tunes. Aka reciting the Al Qur'an. Best to just call it what it is...
Teaching 'em young! 
The crew Lutfe and wife Diah, Khuna (with the knife pointed at her brother), Titik, Nisak and Yul's wife Titin. 

People were EXHAUSTED! Just sleeping anywhere and everywhere!!
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 That crazy day when I took 18 kid to the pool…by bicycle

If you give a mouse a cookie, he’s going to ask for milk.

If you tell a neighbor kid that you went swimming, they are gonna ask to go with you sometime.

If you promise them you will take them, they are gonna invite their friends, too.

I knew all this, yet I was shocked by the result of this group. As soon as I promised to take a handful of these kids to the pool, I knew that there would be a ton more who wanted to come. So I told them for every 3 kids, one adult. No adults, no pool. I was not about to bike with a million kids down a very busy road (picture highway 19 in Sun Prairie, or the highway into Northfield at Carleton).

Right before I freaked out they were gonna drown!
The morning came and the one other adult girl who was committed to going with me very Indonesian-ly cancelled. I was left madly texting all my friends. “Have pity on me! There’s a million kids going to the pool with me!!” After a 45-minute, anxiety filled waiting period, six of my friends were ready to chaperone the 18, yes, 18 kids. Lord.

Endah is endel (loves attention)!
 
We set out for the pool at least three miles away on lots of bikes. All my friends were on their motorcycles with kids hanging off the front and back. That still left about 12 kids on bikes. Imagine a long line of kids going down the highway with a white lady screaming at them to get to the side. Cars are whizzing past, the kids (who have never biked outside of the village) are passing each other on the busy road. The motorcycle-riding chaperones are going forward and falling back to scold the kids to stay in line.

Check out that awesome Muslim lady bathing suit!!
 
Miraculously, we made it there and proceeded to swim. And by swim, I must point out that only about 10 of these kids, if even 10, could actually swim. So there was a lot of me catching kids as they went down the waterslide. Only 2 of the girls went in over their heads once and almost went under. Fortunately, one of the chaperones was there, because God forbid an Indonesian pool have a lifeguard. Aka, there were over 150 kids there and no lifeguard anywhere.

The crew. Lord. Have. Mercy.

Thankfully, Aan was ready with tools in his motorcycle for when one of the kid's bikes needed some repair!
...............

Weekend at Rois's House

Aside from being my es degan (coconut juice) provider, Rois has also been a close friend since my arrival! He was my Bahasa Indonesia/ Bahasa Jawa teacher for 2 months when I first arrived in Mojoagung. He is fluent in English, Javanese, Indonesian, and Arabic. He’s a middle school Arabic teacher now, but he’s going to school for a second undergrad in English.

I met his wife Linda and son Azam and quickly fell in love with his family. 

Rois and Azam
I have stayed the weekend at Linda’s family’s house, and a few weeks ago headed over to Rois’s house in Mojokerto city. We made delectable gurami bakar (grilled fish). I played with Azam. And I drank about 5 glasses of es degan. Oh enak!


I was coached through cleaning and cutting the fish, but Rois was unsatisfied with my crappy job. Whoops…
Filet that fish!

Gurami Bakar (Grilled carp), oh enak!

...............

MGMP Mojoagung

MGMP is a group of teachers of the same subject area who get together and share ideas and information about the subject area. I attended a few times with my school, but the English MGMP was sorta a drag. So I made my own!

If you’ve ever read the book The Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell, you will be familiar with a “connector.” A connector is a person who is very good at bringing his/her various social networks together and introducing people to each other. Since my Carleton days this is something I have loved to do, and my new MGMP is no different.

Commands, maybe? "Raise your arms!"
So far, we have met 3 times. We have had PC volunteers, middle school English teachers, high school English teachers, student teachers, university students, private English tutors, and general English enthusiasts (read: Rois!) come to the meetings. We have a blast hanging out and chatting. The best part is that the attendees bring other friends, so the connections keep growing. My hope is that this can be a really sustainable resource for English speakers to gather and hang out even after I leave.

Unscrambling a story, "The three little cows" (best not to use pigs here as they are Muslim!)
We have shared English vocab/grammar games, storytelling, Total Physical Response (TPR) activities, and I remain nothing short of dumbfounded by the humility, fluency, confidence, and passion of these people. When people ask me how to help the education system in Indonesia, I tell them that they don’t need me. The resources and the outstanding teachers are already here (like everyone who comes to the MGMP). They are simply overworked and underpaid.


 ........................

 Lilik and Faik

I swear that friends in my village just come out of the woodwork.  I didn’t know Faik and Lilik well until about 6 months ago, and now we are joined at the hip! Faik teaches LES for elementary students in the evenings (tutoring). I teach about 10 elementary school students English on Tuesday afternoons at her house. After that, we usually cook and hang out together.

I taught them the card game President.

Because this is not the USA with “beverages” as Julia says, we use powder or make-up to draw on each other’s faces when we lose. I was introduced to this concept months ago, but my friend Brian was totally confused when we played cards with our friends when hiking Semeru.

Coret!!!
Brian: “Why do they drink a glass of water when they lose?!”

Me: “Brian, this is Muslim Indonesia. Ain’t no alcohol here!” So the loser’s choice is to get powder on his/her face or drink a full glass of water. Brian promptly concluded that if anyone was gonna get sick from this drinking game, it was not alcohol-related but the fact that that cup was dirty and definitely had some bacteria growing on it. That’s living on the edge for this particular group of Indonesians, I guess!

....................

Idul Adha

Idul Adha is the Muslim holiday to remember the time Abraham was going to sacrifice Ishmael but God delivered Ishmael and provided a ram instead. In the Christian story (Genesis chapters 16, 21, and 22), Abraham is going to sacrifice Issac because he is the true son of Abraham and Sarah, the son that they waited to have for so long. Ishmael was the son of Abraham and Hagar, a maidservant of Sarah. God promised Abraham many descendants but Abraham essentially got tired of waiting and had a child with Hagar. This son, Ishmael, would have descendents who became Muslim, while Issac’s descendants would be Christians.

Walking the goats pre-slaughter

Muslims do not believe in animal sacrifice as a way to be forgiven of their sins. It is simply a way to remember the sacrifice of Abraham, God’s mercy, and the sacrifice of ourselves as we serve God on earth. Additionally, one of the five pillars of Islam is to give to the poor, and giving out the meat from this sacrifice is a way to do so.

Nothing like watching a cow die while one's name is on the list of people for which this cow is being sacrificed! (Clarification, not MY name, just names in general)


My school sacrificed 1 cow and about 6-7 goats. Cows and goats are very typical of Indonesian sacrifices. Maybe a lamb or a sheep here or there, too. One of the PC staff went to the Muslim country of Morocco last year at Idul Adha, and she said that they celebrate this holiday there even more than Idul Fitri (the day after Muslims finish fasting for Ramadhan). She said the streets were literally red with blood. In this part of Indonesia, this is not the case. Generally, people gather at their mushollas (small mosques) by their house to sacrifice a cow or goat with their neighbors. They distribute the meat to the neighbors and that’d that. My school distributed meat to all the teachers (this year I got some good cuts of meat as opposed to last year’s mixture of innards, skin/fur, and a little meat!), the poorer students, and community members.


People are always strangely gleeful to have their picture taken as they hack away at the meat...
Note that my students are just sitting around the meat in their school uniforms that they will just put on again the next day for class...

Portioning out the meat, just on some old tarp. 

....................


English Camp

This English Camp could not have been more awesome.

I didn't plan anything, so it will be 100% sustainable.

My girls! 15 people in a gutted out van? No problem-o!

The woman leading it is named Bu Yam. That’s “Boo Yum.” The co-leader was a woman named “Sofa.” “You can call me Sofa, but not chair!” she joked. The student representative was Hani. That’s “Honey.”  These are their real names!!

Bu Yam, after taking the center stage, held her arms up like this, and then prompted freaked out. "Hello, I am Bu Yams Imyute (The cute Miss Yams). I am so happy you are here. Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I'm standing like this and I haven't bathed yet! You poor people, smelling me!" What a lady!

I gathered 12 students, 2 friends, rented a van, and drove up to Wonosalam. We joined other high school students, university students, and community members in a beautiful, secluded bamboo structure.

Rosyid and our wheels


I presented about English idioms, symbols (I love you in sign language, you drive me crazy, winking), and how to interact well with foreigners. Bu Yam presented on fun grammar, and Sofa did listening and pronunciation. We had a campfire, a yell-yell competition (like group cheers), and outbound. All in all, it was an exhausting but very successful weekend.



Yell-yell competition (team cheer)

Andrian is the most spirited of them all. Rivaled only by another guy nicknamed "Panda."

Problem-solving

A birthday celebration. Hit with flour! Instantly aged for one's birthday

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

One cannot serve two masters

I have been thinking a lot about money lately. I’m a pretty frugal person in general (we aren’t cheap, right Sam…we are frugal!) I suppose I’m thinking more about money as I consider where I want to travel in these last 9 months in Indonesia. Unfortunately, my bank account has run low. Even though a plane ticket can be as low as $13 one-way (unfortunately, I booked said $13 flight too early in June 2014 so I will have to cancel it), when you jalan-jalan (travel) all the time like I do, your money is cepat habis (quickly gone!)

I’ve been very lucky here in Indonesia. I have travelled to Sumatra, Gili Trawangan, and Lombok in Indonesia; Singapore; Australia; and for Christmas 2013 I will travel to Malaysia. I have travelled within Java as well, namely to Mount Bromo, Jakarta, Jogjakarta, and Mount Semeru. I have loved each of these very unique experiences. But after Malaysia, that’s it. That’s my last big trip until the influx of Peace Corps resettling allowance in June 2014.

Travelling in Australia

I can’t complain one bit about all this travelling. It has been amazing. And I’m not soliciting any of you for money, let me make that clear! (Mom and Dad already gave me an early Christmas present, my ticket to Singapore! Remember the days of Barbies and Hot Wheels for Christmas presents? Man, have your kids gotten expensive!) The point of me writing about money is for me to reflect on how I do or don’t responsibly use money, and why it matters.

Using money responsibly

That is a hard thing to talk about. People each have such a different understanding of what it means to use money responsibly. In college, that meant saving my money to pay for each trimester at a very expensive school. Post college, that meant saving my money to pay rent and food. In Indonesia, the meaning has changed. I save my money purely for travel. Is that financially responsible? I haven’t saved anything for post-Peace Corps life. But my rationale is that I am given a couple thousand dollars from Peace Corps when I am done serving. That can be “responsibly used” to start paying college loans and buy a car, so why not just spend the few hundred dollars I have now??

Is that self-serving? This is a heart-breaking question for me to consider. I love travelling and exploring probably more than I love anything else (except for the people I love, of course). Do I have to give it up? While some will argue that all the travelling I do allows me to learn about the world and the people in it, when is enough enough? Do I need to travel to 20 countries? 100 countries? Did one suffice? Yes, I have learned so much about myself and my calling in this world by travelling. To Indonesia. I didn’t need to travel to Sumatra or Singapore to learn about myself. I got answers right here in Jombang, East Java. So why travel to Australia and Malaysia, too. Why not save that money?

More importantly, why not give that money to someone who needs it? Why not give it to yayasans (orphanages) or NGOs? I have neighbors who would love $100. They might make that much money in a whole year. Rather than go to Malaysia for Christmas, I could give 4 neighbors $50 each to ensure that they have enough to eat for months. They could actually go to the dentist when their teeth hurt instead of massaging their jaws with oil. They could pay for better health care or education for their children.  


Giving “stuff” in Indonesia
So do I run around giving money to neighbors? No, I don’t. I rationalize that they would not accept a large amount of money because of their humility. But really, my sample size of such humility is one, Anik. Here’s the background on this humility theory.

Anik and her son, Fadhil

I got a new camera from Carla in the US (thanks, again, Carla!) so I gave my old camera to my friend, Anik. She was reluctant to take it, saying that she was malu. (This translates as shy, ashamed or embarrassed. Unfortunately, I don’t know which malu she meant.) From what I could read, she was shy to take it because of what neighbors might see if they saw her using it. They know that she didn’t buy it herself. They may be jealous or gossip about her for receiving something like a nice camera.

Sure enough, my host family asked where my old camera went. I told them I gave it to Anik. A day later, other neighbors were confirming. “You gave your camera to Anik?” Yes, yes I did. A few asked why. (Probably wondering what Anik did to get that from Miss Sarah.) The answer is that Anik is my good friend and she will not anytime in at least the next 5 years be able to afford a camera. My other friends and many of my neighbors could save within a few months to buy one.

Then they ask the question that makes me want to scream. “Oh, you pity her, yeah?” In my mind, the word “pity” makes a person seem “pathetic.” Both these words have very negative connotations for me. I don’t pity Anik. I recognize that she is poor. I recognize that she is a beautiful, young woman with such a good heart. I recognize that she works harder than most women in this entire community, sorting recycled goods at the dump (making $2 a day) or cutting sandal straps (making 70 cents a day for at least 5 hours of work). I just wanted to give her something. I want her to see herself as I see her, so amazing. All this would certainly embarrass Anik if I gave neighbors this speech, so instead I just say, no, I don’t pity her. She has a young baby and I want her to be able to take pictures of him whenever she wants.

So, giving can be tricky in my village in Indonesia. The neighbors always know what I am giving, when I am giving it, the price of what I am giving and to whom I am giving. Because the politics of this giving are so socially and emotionally stressful, I tend to avoid it all together. I admit this is not the best answer to giving, but I haven’t found a less-stressful solution.

When I leave Indonesia, I have a lot of clothes and a valuable mosquito net to give away. I want to give the mosquito net to Anik, too. The issue is getting it there. Once it’s in her house, no one will see it; it’ll be in her room. But how do I get it there without all my neighbors seeing? Smuggle it in the middle of the night? Ridiculous. Well, I have 9 months to figure that out.

Pulling a “Jonathan”

As for clothes, my wise volunteer friend Jonathan (who recently finished his service) said this. “When I leave, I’m gonna put all my stuff that I don’t want in a box in my garage. Then I will say to my neighbors, ‘Goodbye, thank you so much for everything, and by the way, feel free to take any of the stuff in the box in my garage.’ And then I will hop into the car and leave.” (Obviously, I’m paraphrasing. But Jonathan also has a flair for the dramatics, so this paraphrase is pretty accurate!)

I replied, “Man, that’s a great idea. Maybe I will do that too, but rather than tell them the box is there, I will put it there and just text them about it once I’m out of the community.”

The rationale behind this is that it is very uncomfortable to give my stuff away. You have to pick the people. You have to go to their house with a bag (which I usually don’t carry, so for sure people will ask me what I have). You give it to them. Then other neighbors see the person wearing or using said object and “confirm” with me that I gave person x/y/z blah blah blah, didn’t you?  It’s all so socially political and I hate that.  There’s also the odd feeling of giving away my “old stuff” that I don't think is valuable anymore.

Another rationale for the box in the garage is this. When I come home from trips and bring my neighbors snacks, I am not lying when I say that it is ripped out of my hands and I’m pushed around. Obviously not everyone in Indonesia and not everyone in my village is like this. Most people are very calm and say thank you. Givine them gifts is very “normal” by my American culture. It’s only one specific group of my neighbors that go nuts, and it’s soooo uncomfortable. It’s like I'm being attacked by children AND adults for a piece of candy. So when Mom and Dad came and brought candy, I basically threw it at one of the moms so that she’d be attacked instead of me. And she was. But at least she could deal with it. So basically, I don’t want to be attacked when this group of neighbors descends on my clothes.

A final reason I’d love to just stick my clothes in a box and jump in the car is that I don’t want to see people pick up my shirts and exclaim how gedeh, aka HUGE, my clothes are. I don’t need to be called huge any more than I already am. And gosh forbid it be the last thing I hear from my neighbors, too. So forget that, I’m putting the box in the garage.


Giving money

Okay, back to a more intellectual analysis of giving. “Stuff” has been covered. What about money?

Seeing as I have lots of time on my hands here, I have been pretty good about reading the Bible. I just finished reading the whole New Testament…it only took 14 months to read! Slow and steady wins the race.  Anyways, lately when I think about hoarding my money for travel I think a lot about this:

“No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money.”  Matthew 6:24

I am at the point where I am starting to feel that I am serving money, not God. I think so much about how to stretch my money and time across the trips I want to take in the next 9 months. And because I feel so guilty about it, I know that I am in the wrong.

Remember this Biblical story? 
Mark chapter 12 
41 Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. 42 But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents.
43 Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. 44 They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”

The woman’s offering was way more pleasing to God. Why? Because she gave all she had to God, trusting that God would take care of her. I can learn a lot about giving from the poor woman. Right now I rationalize giving like a rich person does. I’ll give this much, God, because that’s all that’s left in my wallet after setting aside the money for my trip to Malaysia. I’ll give what I want to give, not give as much as I can actually give.

Nowadays, the standard sum for Christians to tithe is 10%. Click here for information! As I make $200 USD a month, I try to give to my churches here in Jombang (a Catholic church and  Pentecostal church, but that’s another whole story…) when I attend every 2 weeks or so. But by no means do my offerings amount to the full $20 that they should. In a good month, maybe I’ll hit $10.

So lately, I’ve been thinking about giving money. Do I give enough? Is 10% really all I need to give? In light of Syria and the mess there, I’ve been thinking about giving to NGOs that are serving people abroad. I am a person skeptical of just giving to anything because how do we know if it’s being used well? So I prefer to give of my time, like, say, moving to Indonesia for two years. Though it has crossed my mind that I could move to Jordan in June and help Syrian refugees there, what they really need is shelter and food and safety. The priority right now is not an English teacher. But because I don’t speak Arabic, because Mom probably wouldn’t love me moving to Jordan, and because I don't want to be the token white person who is always stared at, I will not be moving to Jordan. But the point is, how can I responsibly give to a world in need?

I know that the US has lots of its own issues and poverty, but the fact is, American poverty is not the kind of life-threatening poverty people in other countries face. In my larger community in Indonesia, I have really not seen any life-threatening poverty. There is a very small percentage of people, usually older or physically disabled, that ask for money in bigger cities, and I’d estimate over 50% of people here always give money to them every time they are asked. While they may only give a few cents, I’d venture to say that that sum quickly adds up.

Life-threatening poverty continues to plague an alarmingly large population of the world. Just look at the United Nation’s Millennium Development Goals. Set in 1990, the 25 years allotted to halving poverty are up in 2015. Have the goals been reached? While it’s great that the UN and its partners have made “significant progress” on many of the goals, that means that they only halved poverty. Maybe 200,000 million more people are being fed in 2012 than in 1990, but 850,000+ million people are still hungry every day.


From the Millenium Development Goals Report 2013

Because I am not a doctor, because I do not want to live abroad again anytime soon (that takes some kind of crazy, Daniel, Paige, Frieda, Carrie) and because my passion is education, I will not be moving to any other country to work with the UN or an NGO. So that limits my participation in said NGOs to raising awareness in the US, protesting, putting pressure on politicians (I’m convinced that if I was in the US right now, I’d seriously be looking for ways to join and/or start a protest about the US airstrike against Syria), or giving money. I’d guess that most Americans give money because it’s easy and as long as the organization is credible, why not sponsor them? But because of who I am, I want to give my time and sweat. Oh, Indonesia has received so much of my sweat!

Conclusions

This blog post is unsatisfying in that I am talking in circles and have no real conclusions for myself or for you. The point, I suppose, is this. I am looking for small ways to give back to my community. When Bu Likah gives me an egg or rice or other food to take home, I need to step up and reciprocate more. I have way more money than she does. And I can’t give Christians and/or Americans a bad name. I gotta be penuh kasih. What I want to say is that I want be full of giving/affection/loving others. It sounds weird in English. Penuh kasih.

Bu Khofso is one of my most giving neighbors


Bu Tin works her buns off at the school's canteen. Because I paid for her fare once at the pool, she doesn't want to pay for some of my canteen lunches. I literally have to shove my money in her pocket and run away!
As for trips, am I guilty that I have been all over Indonesia and some of my neighbors have barely been 2 hours away by motorcycle? Yes, I am very guilty of this. Do I want to give it up? Selfishly, no. Again, trying to serve two masters. Jesus told that rich guy, “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in Heaven. Then come, follow me. (Matt 19:21). No gets rid of their stuff better than my sister, Lizzie. I don’t know that she covets one darn material thing. I truly admire her for that. Some of the 12 apostles literally dropped their fishing nets in the middle of their day’s work (Matt 4:18-22), left their homes and followed Jesus. How can I drop my money and give up my idol of travelling to truly serve as God calls me to do?

If I’m not mistaken, it was Martine, a fellow volunteer, who reminded us to consider the financial strain it puts on people in our community whenever we are given something. Whether it be an invitation to eat at someone’s house or snacks from a fellow teacher or being sent home from a neighbor’s house with a bag of peanuts, that person made a financial sacrifice to give me that stuff. Most people in my village, truthfully speaking, can spare those small, $1 snacks to give me. They have nice homes that may have taken years to decorate, but their house is nice. They have motorcycles that cost, minimally, about $1,500 USD. They have cell phones that are not cheap. They use a lot of electricity watching TV. I don't think I’ve been in any home yet that doesn’t have at least one TV. Despite all this, I have learned to appreciate the little things that people give me so much more. So thank you, Martine! I am learning (albeit very slowly) to pay it forward.

The snacks with which I am often sent home.

So, which do you serve? I'm working to serve the former.

“No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money.”  Matthew 6:24

Give back to Caesar what is Caesar's [the money for tax] and to God what is God's. Matt 22:21