Hey everyone! Please take your time reading this post, I had
fun. I included a lot of things that are cracking me up... I'm either in a
really good place since I find my life hysterical right now, or I have lost it.
I'm banking on the former!
Also, word to the wise. There is no way that the immediately
following paragraphs are not going to be awkward for all the adults about to read
this. Sorry, Mom and Dad, grandparents. On the other hand, Sam may also be
shaking her and saying, "Oh Sarah, why?" And Nick, as always, will be
incredulous.
Sarah has the sex
talk
The other night, I had one of the weirdest conversations
potentially ever. I will admit, however, that the conversation was entirely the
fault of my curious self. (Insert Shell Miller style question here: "Self,
what were you thinking?!") But because I am not at all a participant of
the lifestyle I am about to mention, I was not embarrassed to discuss it. I
can't say the same for my 24-yr old host sister, who was the victim of my
curiosity.
Anyways, I read this book"The Secret," about
HIV/AIDS in countries around the world, for Pamela's Anthropology of Health and Illness class. And... I can't help but
wonder about where young people sleep together in other countries. They live at
home with their parents, so they aren't gonna want to do it there! So I
proceeded to ask my host sister where young, unwed Indonesians do it. Mala was
probably blushing like mad, but she is not white so I couldn't tell. I was
like, "In a hotel? Isn't that too expensive?" She agreed, too
expensive. Because I am persistent, I then proceeded to ask about a different
place in which young people sleep together that may or may not have been
culturally insensitive. "Di tempat
kerja petani?" ("In the place where farmers work?" ...I
didn't know the word for field!) She laughs hysterically at this idea. Okay, so
maybe like 100 years ago. Whoops. She then explained that there are cheap
hotels where they go. They I had to ask how many people did she think had
premarital sex in Indonesia? After all, I am a curious anthropologist! I
explained that most Americans did have premarital sex (I also threw in a good
word for myself and my friends about how not all Americans do, my friends and I
being a case in point!) Anyways, she said that most people do here, too. As a
Muslim country, this is largely curious and fascinating to me. I have
definitely found that more people in this particular area are culturally Muslim
more than practicing Muslims.
Anyways, potentially the best part of this whole situation
was when I told my language training group the next day. Mike said it sounded
like I was trying to scope out spots...that's embarrassing. I should have made
it more clear that that was not my goal! Anyways, Sam topped it all when he
said that it sounded like I was going to start rhyming like Dr. Seuss: "Do
you do it in the night? Do you do it in the light? Do you do it here or there?
Do you do it everywhere?" SOOOOOO funny!
...thus ended my ridiculous conversation with my host
sister, Mala. Sorry, Mala!
Let's talk about globalization instead!
The overarching
reaction I have to living in Indonesia is simply this: life here is not that
different. Call me crazy for saying this when you take into account the
things I do in this country: taking a bath with a bucket, wiping my booty with
my hand, sleeping under a mosquito net for fear of dying of Japanese Encephalitis, putting on buy
spray like perfume, , working in a classroom with no materials other than a
chalkboard and chalk, and sleeping from 9 PM to approximately 4:30 AM.
Despite all of these major differences, life is surprisingly
similar. I think that this realization has occurred everywhere I have traveled.
At first this was a struggle for me to accept because I wanted to be a world
away. I wanted to experience this remote, removed life that one reads about in
old books, traveling through African or Asian countries and feeling the novelty
of being in a land in which everything is unfamiliar. I wanted no phone, no
internet, no English, no American culture. And instead what I have found in
Senegal, Ghana, Togo, and now Indonesia is the shocking extent to which these
countries have been "westernized." Colonial influences, yes. But even
more so, globalization. Van will be so proud of me for discussing this!
I
am not sure what validity this claim holds, but it seems that today that few
places in the world exist that are not connected and plugged in to the
globalization process. Countries' cultures are merging and shifting at a speed
never experienced before, and few people are reflecting on the good and bad
effects of this process.
I am coming to terms with globalization, for better or for
worse, as a phenomenon that is not going to stop anytime soon. Globalization
brings a lot of good development and sharing of ideas across vast time and
space. People in one country borrow ideas from other countries and adapt the
ideas to fit their culture. This is a fascinating process about which I am learning
to understand.
On the other hand, globalization brings a lot of frustration
to me because cultures are being crushed around the world. Wookie and I talked
once about the permeation of the English language virtually everywhere. While it
brings a vast amount of human and cultural capital for me, it is disturbing to
note the rate at which old, beautiful languages are being smooshed. A really
good example of this is most Native American languages. Virtually no one in the
U.S. speaks these languages anymore, and even among Native Americans, few are
preserving the language (I actually have a source for this, a guest speaker in
my student teaching seminar in the fall). Worldwide, a higher number of people
are choosing -or being forced- to learn English. All of this wouldn't be a
problem if the Anglophone world met this increase in English speakers abroad by
committing to learning other languages while preserving cultures as well. But
largely speaking, Anglophones do not see the necessity of doing so. And this is
very frustrating to me.
Which leads me to brag for a moment about a really awesome
realization I am having.
I am TRILINGUAL. That is
probably the coolest thing I can say about myself. Sweet.
Anyways, I
think I'm losing my audience. The point is that life here in Indonesia is not
that different at all. Sure, jobs Indonesians have are a bit different (In
Wisconsin and Minnesota, I have not seen many meatball sellers banging a gong
to advertise their product). A majority of Indonesians are bi- or trilingual
(their native language, then Bahasa Indonesia, and then many know a bit of
English). But just like the U.S., Indonesians are hard-working, love and care
for each other so much, and are simply good people.
Oh, and they basically all have Facebook. Except my host mom
Bu Mul, who refuses to even text!
So if there is one message I
have for readers today, please realize that Indonesia is not a crazy jungle
place where the people are so different that I feel I am living in a movie. (Clarification:
Indonesia is not a jungle anyways, that was for dramatic effect!) I feel at
home here, and I love it!
A pertinent quote from the
book, A Singular Woman: The Untold Story
of Barack Obama's Mother.
Obama comments on his
mother's spirit (Ann was an anthropologist who worked in Indonesia for about 30
years):
"It was a sense that
beneath our surface differences, we're all the same, and that there's more good
than bad in each of us. And that, you know, we can reach across the void and
touch each other and believe in each other and work together."
___________________________
Some more fun notes about this week:
~ Orang tua saya =
parents. Literally, "My old people." Sorry, Mom and Dad!
~ I should no longer be surprised when totally bizarre
things happen here. Why would I NOT stand up and sing "Leaving on a Jet
Plane" with a student in English class?! Hey, the student asked, and she
was willing to sing it with me. Why not!?
~ I went to church on Sunday morning with a few other
volunteers and one of our language teachers. Then we ran some errands,
including the post office, bank, and shopping for batik. Batik is a specific
type of fabric that is usually very colorful and detailed in design. Definitely
different than any of the African clothes you all have seen. Anyways, I really
wanted to get a dress. So I'm trying on a bunch, and they are all too short
(right above the knee, too short to wear around here) because I am "so
tall" here! So then I tried some shirts. Which was fine, until I took too
big a risk in putting it on over my big shoulders, and I couldn't get the shirt
off!
TRAPPED IN BATIK!!!
Fortunately, I had no shame and marched out of the dressing
room to my volunteer friends to ask for some, ahem, assistance in the dressing
room! Mary, one of the other volunteers, had to come into the dressing room and
undress me. Olah! (pronounced "oh-Allah," this is the Javanese
expression for "oh my!" Although it's pronounced like Allah God, it
doesn't mean that. Two different languages.) I am blaming this unfortunate
situation on the heat, because I was sweaty so it stuck to me! After this, I
think I'll stick to trying to buy a shirt with buttons. No over the head
hassle. Needless to say, I haven't bought a shirt here yet...
~ Two other unfortunate incidents have included dropping my
floss into the vat of water that is our bathtub. Whoops. It'll recover. But
more unfortunately, I dropped the soap into the toilet. That took some skill,
because I wash my hands about 3 feet away from the toilet. I will not disclose
whether or not I flushed the soap or reached in and took it out. You decide.
~ I met potentially the most spazzy man ever, my new friend
Dewey. I will have to film the way he speaks and dances around or something,
because I can't quite capture how spazzy he is. I literally cannot understand a
word he says, but I learned last night that this was because he prefers to
speak Javanese. He graduated school about 3-4 years ago, and although schooling
is primarily if not totally taught in Bahasa Indonesia, he is not very good at
it, I guess. He said he got like a 50% or 60% on the test in Bahasa Indonesia.
Anyways, Dewey is hilarious. He kept calling me bule, which means Westerner or white person. I was like,
"Dewey, my name is not bule, it
is Sarah!" He the proceeded to
give me maybe the coolest nickname that I have ever had, "Tante Amerika!" Basically, "Aunt America." So
I now call him "Pria Indonesia,"
meaning "Indonesian man!"
I am starting to form friends here
and it is simply hilarious!
Case in point: I basically come home each night from school
and sit on the couch with my host sister or host mom and we laugh at each other
and nothing for about 30 minutes. For basically no reason. It is great. Period.
..and then after I wrote this post, I told her that I think
I will be sad when I leave since we laugh together so much, and I made her cry.
Shoot! Nice job, tante Amerika.
