Bunda the Beast

This week I will be training the new group of volunteers on a session called "Understanding Your Work Partner." I'm teaching 65 new trainees how to muddle their way through the confusing jungles of Indonesian culture.

When I was a trainee, Indonesians were often depicted as lazy, consistently late, and irresponsible. We were told that  our Indonesian counterparts may not show up to class every day or that they will show up late. Lesson planning with our fellow teachers would be a near-impossible task. Implementing secondary projects would be easy-peasy until suddenly the plan falls through for some inexplicable reason.

Naturally all of this information terrified me when I was first introduced to my counterpart, Bunda. I was immediately irritated by anything she did. I assumed the worst although I knew her intentions were good. I anticipated being overwhelmed by the culture and therefore I allowed my emotions to become heightened. If Bunda came to my house, I thought she was overbearing. If she fixed my shirt, I thought she was too touchy. If she told me how to eat something, I thought she was trying to force feed me. Everything she did triggered a negative reaction because I thought that our cultural differences were going to be a brick wall that could not be demolished. I stubbornly asserted my American independence and individualism

After a few weeks working with her, I decided to finally let my guard down. I thought about what a day in the life of Bunda must feel like. So I imagined this scenario:

I am a teacher in the United States. A foreigner comes to my school to help me in the classroom. This foreigner thinks they have better ideas. They believe they know how to act appropriately in America because they went through a brief training somewhere in New York. When this foreigner starts working, they impolitely comment on my dress and physical appearance. They claim that this is normal in their culture, but do not understand how it is rude in America. They insist that we pray before class despite the fact that U.S. public schools do not require a prayer session. Lastly, this foreigner complains about the food. She looks at her plate with disgust and frequently skips meals. After a few days, this foreigner retreats to her home and spends the weekend in her room. I have been trying my best to make her understand my culture. I have gone above and beyond to try to make her happy, yet she still wants to do things her way. 

After I attempted to walk two moons in Bunda's shoes, I lightened up. Cultural differences were emphasized during my 2.5 months of Peace Corps training. We discussed how students must pray before the start of class. We learned that finishing your breakfast is more important than starting on time. We tried to understand why the locals think being tired is a legitimate reason to excuse yourself from an activity. Learning these differences were important to help me not make a complete fool of myself in my village. However, these differences have not hindered me from completing my Peace Corps mission as I once believed they would.

Yes, things work a slower here. Yes, my counterpart must finish chatting with her friends despite the fact that class has started. Yes, we lesson plan 20 minutes before class rather than a week ahead. These aspects of Indonesian culture can be frustrating to the efficient and timely American.

However, the spark that connects Bunda and me is stronger than culture. Our chemistry as work partners is rooted in a desire to understand each other, to treat each other with kindness and respect. She openly tells me what is culturally appropriate. It is my responsibility to either follow her advice or explain why I do not want to adhere to those cultural norms. For instance, she has played with my hair many times this last year trying to tame the mop that is on my head. She wants me to look professional at school so that students will respect me. I happily adhere to her hair style suggestions because I accept her as my cultural liason. I don't always follow her instructions, but I understand that she is only trying to help me assimilate.

It is not only my openness that has allowed our relationship to flourish. I wholeheartedly commend Bunda for exhibiting patience and understanding with me. My most precious moment with my counterpart occured within the first few days of coming to my village. She accidentally saw my tattoo  of a tree while I was getting fitted for a school uniform. In Indoneisa, women are not allowed to have tattoos or any type of body art. In fact, painting nails is forbidden for religious reasons. A fiery fear of judgment engulfed me when I realized Bunda had spotted my inked shoulder. I assumed she would immediately judge me and gossip to the school staff about my tattoo.

I turned to her and said, "I have a tattoo. I'm sorry, but I hope you do not judge me."
She smiled back, "Do not worry. These are our cultural differences. This is what we learn from each other."

She then proceded to ask me questions. Did the tattoo hurt? When did you get it? Will you get another one? Why did you get a tree? She promised me she wouldn't tell anyone. I showed my host mother my tattoo 3 months later, and she was utterly shocked. She had no clue about my tattoo despite the fact that I lived under her roof for a few months. Bunda had kept her promise after all. There are many people in this village who are still unaware of my secret tree.

Working with Bunda has made me realize that kindness and understanding are stronger than culture. It's our personalities and our values that keep us going through this Peace Corps roller coaster ride. I want the new group of volunteers to understand that working in a new culture is nothing to be afraid of. It can be a struggle, but it does not have to hinder your ability to react with kindness and understanding. Culture is not an unbreakable barrier. It's an obstacle that two people can overcome when approached with openness and understanding.

My wonderful counterpart, Bunda, and me at a Peace Corps conference January 2015