I spent the first few days of the Peace Corps in a hotel in
Surabaya. We barely stepped out into the city. On top of that we had five long
days of lectures, PowerPoints, safety training, and group activities. I did not
feel like I was in Indonesia whatsoever. In fact, I could have been in a hotel
in Florida and not even noticed.
I didn’t feel like I was in Indonesia until we were all
separated into small clusters (5-7 volunteers/cluster) and spit out into
villages. Each cluster is assigned a village outside of Batu. I honestly can’t
pronounce the village I am currently in. When people ask me I say, “I’m in the
village with the long name that starts with S.” I’m sure I’ll catch the name
some day.
Anyway, I arrived at Village S three days ago. The Peace
Corps bus dumped us at a white house and our bags were tossed onto the
driveway. My host mom and dad came to
pick me up. My host dad (bapak) rolled
my luggage on the short walk to his house. I definitely over packed my bag
because the look on my bapak’s face said, “Holy crap, did this girl bring
bricks to Indonesia?”
When we stepped into the house, they showed me to my room.
To my delight, the walls are orange and I have a view of an active volcano
outside my window. I toured the rest of the small house. The living room has
purple walls and stuffed animals out on display. The kitchen has green walls, a
leaky roof, and a blue door that leads to the bathroom. There is a garden on
the side of the house where my bapak grows flowers and vegetables. The house
creeks when you take a step. My host sister (Nia) always talks about ghosts. My host brother (Chahya) sits on my lap and
plays games with me. It’s as if my imagination threw up and created a fun house
for me to live in.
At this point, I was new to the village and knew absolutely
no Bahasa Indonesia. I knew how to say “thank you” and “color.” This wasn’t
exactly useful after being thrown into an only Indonesian-speaking
household. My host mother (ibu) and I
quickly formed our own sign language. When she wanted me to bathe, she poured
invisible water on herself. When she wanted me to eat (which is all the time),
she scooped imaginary rice into her mouth. When she wanted me to wash my
clothes, she rubbed her hands together.
Our sign language
became so advanced that I could explain:
1) Why I chopped off my hair
2) Details about my boyfriend (age, residence,
employer, how we met)
3) The
whereabouts of each of my 4 siblings (Rahul included)
4) Why I am Indian American and not just
Indian.
She gave me two thumbs up to indicate she understood. This
lasted a solid two days until the Peace Corps language training began.
As my language skills progress, I miss our special sign
language. My ibu is amazing; she does everything for me and takes care of me as
if I were a queen. I didn’t need words to describe how I was feeling. We would
just flail our arms at each other until there was a mutual agreement of what I
wanted/needed. It was amusing to say the least. We laughed through the entire
process. Now, I can speak a few sentences in Bahasa Indonesia. Therefore, our
conversations are not as humorous. When I want to shower I can say, “Saya mau
mandi.” She still gives me two thumbs up, but it’s just not the same.
