Balancing Act

It’s hard to find a balance in Indonesia.

- Be angry or calm (and/or indifferent) about classroom problems?

- Push my counterpart or let her be?

- Scream with joy or seem sad when people ask me how many more months I have here?

Year Two here in Indonesia has been full of great things and full of self-realizations that are very uncomfortable.

Some of the great things first. I like neat lists, so here’s one for ya:

• I have some really close friends (Faik, Lilik, Nurul, Rois) and I trust them enough to tell them everything. My frustrations with my school and host family, funny day-to-day stories, goofy texts, anything.

Nurul and I have a fashion show! 

Rois is the biggest English-enthusiast I've ever met.

Faik and I hanging out on my #1 form of transit, the bus

Lilik and I just hanging out. A typical day looks like this!

• I changed churches (to a Protestant Pentecostal church) that allows for way better worship and a few younger people. It’s unfortunate that I live a 30-minute bike ride away because I can only go to church about every 2-3 weeks between the rainy season and being busy with other activities.

• Indonesian pop music is great! I have no problem with my music tastes being dictated by the media. Ungu, Noah and Judika are your typical pop bands that have nice moody teen love songs that are always enjoyable.

Karaoke to celebrate my friend's birthday. Check out this song: Dirimu Satu 

• I’ve been building relationships with young Indonesian college students. It’s been really fulfilling to hang out with people who actually like English and are very motivated people. One guy has taken to calling me “Ning,” which means “older sister” and frequently asks me for advice. Lord, I’m 25 years old in 2 weeks. I’m giving life advice to a 20 year old??? I’m getting old!

Despite looking like American high school students, these are college-aged Indonesians!

• Exercising with Zumba videos is a work in process but makes me feel a lot better about my general lack of activity here. I definitely enjoy feeling healthier and having a stronger body.

• I have now climbed three tall Indonesian volcanoes (2 active, one inactive) with my PCV friend Brian who is hilarious. Brian should really be a bullet point in and of himself. One can’t get enough texts such as “Your friend Rendy is a solid human,” or “Here are some pictures of our most recent rice-filled Indonesian experience,” or this text, on celebrating Mohammad's birthda: "...The big nabi. Afterward a big ass berkompul at my house. Nasi jagung flying off the walls.”

You can tell by his facial reaction to this cap cay that this man is hilarious! 

• I have run out of movies to watch (but in a month I’ll meet up with all the volunteers again and get a new supply!) so I’m reading a lot more. Fantastic books of 2013-2014 include:

o   Dead Man Walking by Sister Helen Prejean (What better way to spend time on the beach in Gili Trawangan than to read a book about the US death penalty?!)

o   The Year of Living Biblically by AJ Jacobs (This is a funny book about a Jewish man’s quest to follow all the rules of the Bible for a year. He has a lot of insightful reflections as a man who did not see himself as a very spiritual man.)

o   The Book Thief by Zusak Markus (This book is about a little German girl who steals books as she lives in the WWII era. It includes her struggle to understand what is happening in Nazi Germany. Wonderful read.)

o   The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern (This is about a circus in which some of the performers are capable of real magic.)

o   Crazy Love by Francis Chen (This was a very challenging book about what a “lukewarm” Christian looks like, how someone who is really obsessed with God should look, and how we ought to live with radical love like Jesus.)

o   The Color of Heaven by Julianne MacLean (This was an engaging book about a recently divorced woman who loses her daughter to cancer. A book about her learning about her past from her mother and coming to terms with her present day life.)

o   Ashfall by Mike Mullin (This is a thrilling book about a boy living through Yellowstone’s super volcano and having to make his way across what was Iowa to find his family.)

o   The Fault in Our Stars by John Green (A great recommendation by Lauren M., this book was about a teenage girl with cancer who dates another teenage cancer survivor.)

On the beack in Lombok

For a nice counter to all the good things listed above, here are some reflections on self-realizations that have been less-than-great.

Self-realization #1:

      I am very indifferent to student behavior in the classroom at this point. Playing with a pet crab today in class? I asked twice for them to put it away, and when they didn’t, I just ignored them instead of caring anymore. Most of my male students do not like English and have an extremely low ability in English. Taking a page out of one of the ID5’s books, I have taken to trying to just ignore them if they are not listening (this is if they even come to class). This is a big change from last year’s teaching attitude, which was to help everyone succeed and work my butt off to help even the most uninterested boys. This year, I gave that up because my relentless encouragement of the struggling students last year amounted to nothing; they still didn’t care or change their work ethic.

      The way the teachers in my school grade is very arbitrary anyways. The students can sit through a semester of class, learn nothing, fail, and then the principal tells teachers they have to give the students passing grades because the parents are complaining. Thus, the teachers give ONE remedial assignment that probably takes an hour to do. Then the student passes the class. I am dead serious that this is the way it works; I saw the evidence today with my counterpart.

      My attitude toward these students is not something that I am proud of, but I can’t be angry every time they don’t care and talk through the lesson because I spent all of last year being angry and it’s exhausting. Ignoring the behavior of the majority of the boys is not appealing but it’s my self-preservation. 

Self-realization #2:

      As for the sustainability of my work, I can say that I am half-confident that what I am doing matters. I work with Bu U and Bu L (Bu means “Mrs.”). Bu L (28 years old) has shown a lot of what I’d subjectively deem improvement, based on the way she prepares lessons, explains things to students, and tries to have fun with them. She generally is on time, willing to stay after school to teach extra lessons, and we just click.

      Bu U (45 years old), on the other hand, is simply overworked. This results in her generally going about 15 minutes late to every class she teaches and she has no problem just arriving in class, flipping open the workbook, and teaching whatever the book says to teach next. No preparation required. I am reluctant to push her to plan with me for every class. Make worksheets, print worksheets. Brainstorm games, make the games. I am realistic and I know that she won’t do this when I go home so I don’t want to be a bother to her in the next five months. I pushed her a lot last year, but when I stayed more silent this year, she went back to workbook mode. I don't know what my role as a PCV is in this situation. I generally sit through her 30-45 minute rote explanations of what a narrative text is, and then I lead a hopefully more active and fun classroom activity with the students. She’s always willing to do these activities, but it seems like she doesn’t want to suggest them or make them up herself.

      Then again, this entire self-realization #2 in which I have complained could really be me trying to place the blame of poor teaching on someone other than myself. Either way, the self-realization here is that I feel like I haven't worked to be the best counterpart I can be. I'm disappointed in myself, frankly, but there are still 5 months to turn things around.

Self-realization #3:

      A final thing I’m dealing with on a daily basis is the question, “Miss, kurang berapa bulan?” (How many more months do you still have here?) I am asked this almost every day and as I texted some PCV friends this morning, it takes all I my energy not to scream with joy “Five months!” at the innocent inquirer.

      When I first arrived, every day I was asked, “Apakah kamu kerasan di sini?” (Do you feel at home here?) I answered, “Yes,” because I was. New people I meet to this day ask me this question. I routinely answer, “Yes.”

      But when I sit down now and think about this, do I feel at home here? The real answer is “Not really. I'm happy enough, but I don't love it and don't want to be here any longer than June 2014.”

o   I am counting the days until I get to “GO HOME.”

o   I shrug when there are behavior problems and grading problems at home because I tell myself, “This is not my problem. This is not my schooling system.”

o   When we spend an hour of school every Monday practicing standing in lines and repeating the same Indonesian values and prayers over and over again, I just think to myself, “This is not MY country’s character-building agenda, thank God. What a waste of time.”

o   When Bu U left class today for 30 minutes with a “Sorry Miss, I am hungry, I’m going to go eat,” I just said, “Okay.” Not my problem if the students suffer from their teacher’s absence.

o   When Indonesia came in basically last on the OECD’s results of teens around the world and their intelligence, I shrugged and said, “It’s sad, but maybe if teachers went to class, it would change. Maybe if parents encouraged and helped their children to do their homework it would change. Maybe if the local governments stopped letting teachers pay $25,000 (the honest-to-God bribe Nurul’s friend paid in December 2013 to become a civil servant teacher) for their certifications and actually took the tests, it would change. Maybe if teachers stopped students from cheating, it would change.” Indonesia is ridden with problems on all levels; the government, the teachers, the students. Because no one wants to take responsibility, nothing changes.

            These comments may seem harsh, but they are the reality here. I’m currently trying to step back and see how I’m being biased. Today, I’m also just having a bad day. There are lots of teachers doing good things here, too. But when I think individually about each teacher at my school, so many of them are late to class every day, just don’t go to class, give arbitrary grades, don’t really check assignments, etc. These are just the observations at my own school, through my less-than-perfect eyes, but I do think that they count for something.

             The embarrassing self-realization here is that I came to Indonesia to help, and I'm currently dealing with the attitude, "Thank gosh this country's education system is not my problem." Why is it that I'm ready and willing to help with American problems but not help Indonesia? This is frankly a scary, biased, non-Christian view to have about the world, yet it's the attitude I currently possess.  

*****

            The long and short of it is, I have been ready to go home for months. In July 2013, Peace Corps staff asked us to identify how we were feeling about our second year of service. I picked the phrase, “I made a commitment and I’m sticking to it.” This phrase implies that I am biding my time. To the PC staff who may be reading this, don’t think I want to be sent home early. I am still teaching, still creating new projects (IGLOW and English Conversation Club are new, big activities beginning this week), but it’s all with the ever-present excitement that I am leaving in 5 months.

           

            I can guarantee you that there will be at least one American girl bawling during the nationalistic songs played under the bursts of the 4^th of July fireworks this year. I am damn proud to be an American!

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?

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 10^th 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!

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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!

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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. 

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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