America: More Than Just New England

I feel strange saying this, but I’ve seen more of the world than the United States of America. I was born in Rhode Island, raised in Connecticut, and attended college in Washington, D.C.  Additionally, my siblings currently live in/around New York City. I’m an East Coast gal who never had the desire to explore the rest of the country. Although the travel bug bit me at a young age, my thoughts were always global, never local. All I ever wanted was another stamp on my passport so I therefore headed to places like Peru, Italy, France, and China in an attempt to add to my collection.

My New England upbringing caused me to have a very skewed image of what the “average American” is. Back home I surrounded myself with people who think like me, talk like me, and even walk like me (at lightning speed with no time for BS).  I filled my life with young, educated, liberal minds (mostly from New England) that agreed with me rather than challenged me. When I looked at a map of America, my eyes went straight to the Northeast ignoring the vast areas to the left of it. It’s not that I disliked the other parts of the country, I just had no idea what kinds of people were living there and so I never bothered to look.

This is what America looked like to me before Peace Corps Indonesia

When I joined the Peace Corps, I knew I was going to interact with people different from myself, mainly Indonesians.  It never occurred to me that I would be meeting volunteers who came from different cultures as well. Yes, we’re all Americans but boy are we different! I’ve learned more about America while living in Indonesia than I did while living in America.

My first eye opening experience happened during training when I was talking to a true Southern girl from Alabama. She stated that she didn’t believe a woman should be president. She believes that women are too emotional and those emotions negatively affect her work ethic. I wanted to shout in disagreement, but she pointed out, “Women have yelled at me for this and all I can say is, ‘You’re proving my point.’” I closed my mouth, thought about it, and nodded. I accepted the fact that we are allowed to disagree. That’s what a democracy is. 

My fellow volunteers have not only fueled my need for heated political discussion, but they have also taught me about local culture in different parts of America. My friend from a small town in Ohio once described the local wedding customs from his hometown. According to him, if the younger sibling from the family gets married first, then the older sibling must dance in a cow crib until the crib breaks. I rolled my eyes and jokingly told him to shut up. I honestly thought he was making the whole thing up, but of course he wasn’t.

Interacting with other Peace Corps Volunteers has made me realize how vast and diverse America is. Now I look at a map and think, “Hm, so that’s what’s going on over there.” I’m only one year into my service and I have been able to get close to a lot of different Americans. I can’t list everyone, but here are a few of my favorites.

A hard working Eagle Scout from Minnesota who just LOVES Paul Bunion

A Wisconsin girl who is the youngest of 4 girls (like myself!)

A special education teacher from Ohio who runs marathons like it ain't no thang

A home schooled Tennessee rock climber who is one of seven children

An animal rights activist oozing with musical talent from Northern California

A Floridian that played for Tulane University’s football team

A human rights advocate from New Mexico who wrote a song about her car

A dancer and hardcore feminist from Chicago
An introverted Atlanta girl who can rap along to any Ludacris song 

A smooth-talking Californian who comes from an army family

A recent Loyala U grad from St. Louis who can turn every situation into a party

A man from San Fran with a dark but hilarious sense of humor

A Jersey man who frequently checks into “the mansion”

An outdoorsy Seattle native with a quirky story about his ankle tattoo

A Cleveland girl who used to teach in South Korea

A farmer’s daughter from the flat lands of Illinois

A yoga enthusiast dedicated to public service, hailing from the Midwest
A Northwestern U. alum raised in a single parent household and who is secretly an honorary American U Eagle. ;)

Two of my favorite PCV's. Lindsey (left) from the Midwest and Zoe (right) from the West Coast. And yours truly in the middle hailing from beautiful and quaint New England.  

When Will You Have Children?

Indonesians frequently ask me these 2 questions:
1) At what age will you get married?
2) When will you have children?

I usually answer with sarcastic remarks such as, "I'll get married when Obama is finally single" or "I'll have children after you people find me an Indonesian husband." But I decided to open up to my host family and tell them the truth.

I explained to my host family that I don't care what age I get married or if I get married at all. It doesn't matter to me if I'm a bride in my 20's or in my 50's (let's get real here, I'll look fabulous in that red and gold wedding sari at any age). So then my family asked, "But how will you have children if you get married so late in life?" I told them I don't want biological children; I want to adopt.

My host mother gave me an odd look and explained that Indonesians rarely adopt children. Families are encouraged to have their own children. If a couple is unable to have children, then they adopt a child from their extended family. For example, if I were unable to have children I would adopt my sister's child and raise the child as my own.

This form of adoption is not specific to Indonesia. I have seen this situation in India as well. In fact, two of my aunts asked my mom if they could adopt me (my mom said no, obviously). These cultures emphasize the idea that family means blood relatives only. It's better to adopt within the family rather than take care of a complete stranger.

I, however, have no issues welcoming a child in need into my home. I believe that adoption proves that I have a generous heart. In fact, a friend once described adoption as "a saintly act." Some families choose adoption as a last resort. They are unable to have children and therefore see adoption as a Plan B (or C or D). That's not the case with me. Adoption is Plan A and when my host mother tries to convince me otherwise I shrug my shoulders and say, "Budaya berbeda" (our cultures are different).

Temporarily Homebound: Tips on having a Successful Vacation in America

Peace Corps Volunteers are allowed 48 vacation days during their 2 years of service. Many PCVs take these golden vaca days to head back to the land of the free and the home of the brave. I chose to take my trip to America right smack dab in the middle of my service. One year down, one year to go. The countdown for my vacation started weeks in advance. At times I thought the anticipation was going to kill me. I couldn't have been happier when I left my village and boarded a New York City bound plane. But, when I got to the good ole US of A, things were a little different than what I expected. A few other volunteers gave me advice on how to handle myself during my 2 weeks at home.  Here's a few tips/tricks to help PCVs have a successful trip home to America.

Don't go overboard with your Peace Corps tales: I get it. You're excited to talk about every little detail about your life. Peace Corps tales tend to be hilarious anecdotes about awkward misunderstandings, long bus rides with farm animals, strange parasites that have entered your body, etc. But you have to remember that you haven't seen your friends and family for a while. They also have tales of their own. They will want to tell you as much about their lives as you do of yours. Hand them the mic, will ya?

Give yourself some alone time: You know exactly what I'm talking about. Most PCVs have hours upon hours worth of free time. Throughout your service you build up a high tolerance for that solidarity without realizing it. It can be daunting to talk to friends and family for hours at a time. My solution is to limit myself to one large social event a day and/or give myself some alone time. I either go for a run or head to a coffee shop by myself. No one can come. No one can talk to me. Just me, myself, and I.

Stay in touch with people from your country of service: It's great to stay present, but that doesn't mean you should ignore the life you have at site. A friend of mine suggested that I keep in contact with other PCVs and people from my site in order to stay connected to my life in Indonesia. She said she felt disconnected from everyone when she returned to site. Speaking from experience, coming home to America feels like I've stepped into some alternate reality. I look around and think, "This could have been my life if I stayed..." Don't let yourself fall into that trap. Stay connected to your PC life so that it makes it easier to come back.

Make post-vacation plans with PCVs or people from your site: You've been looking forward to your American vacation for so long that you have trouble picturing returning to site.  It's easy to get back into the groove of American life and trick yourself into thinking that you don't miss your Peace Corps experience. Jumping back into your sweaty clothes and 100 degree weather won't seem like a fun task when you're enjoying endless amounts of cheese, wine, burgers, air condition, family, and friends. Make plans with people in your host country so that post-vacation life becomes a reality. I'm getting pumped for Ramadan fasting and another fourth of July at Pacitan beach with my site mate, Russel!

Don't stop speaking your host country language: Teach your family and friends a couple of phrases that you typically use while at site. Almost every PCV has a fun go-to word or phrase that they frequently use. Use these at home as a fun way to stay connected to your host country. I have taught my family these three beautiful and oh-so fun words: Sudah (already), belum (not yet) and Alhamdulillah (thanks be to God). It's hilarious to tell my family that I "sudah ate dinner" or to say "Alhamdulillah" to my 7 month old nephew every time he sneezes. Teaching people a bit of the language also allows you to open up a dialogue about your PC life. But remember, don't go overboard. Your family doesn't need to learn the language to the extent that you do.

Those are all the tips I have for now. I'm heading to the District of Columbia tomorrow to meet some more friends and family! But before I leave, I'd like to brag about how I have the cutest niece and nephew in the world. My sister had her son while I was in my village. I just met him and he's THE BEST NEPHEW IN THE WORLD. Here's a photo to prove it:

Sophia and Ari. They're never going to do anything wrong. 

Dormant

It’s hard to find new topics to write about for my blog. Indonesia hasn’t lost its appeal; I’m still in love with my life here. Rather, I have become accustomed to the aspects of Indonesia that I used to find amazing. At a certain point, Peace Corps life becomes mundane. The things that intrigue people back home are just biasa (normal) to me.

A year ago, I would gush over every little cultural difference I encountered. I’d write about it in my diary. I’d call my friends and compare experiences. I even bragged to fellow PCVs about pooping my pants (it’s a Peace Corps badge of honor to poop your pants). Everything was new and exciting. But now, life is just…life.

If the power runs out from yet another rain storm, I pick up a candle and a good book. I bathe with cold water every morning and every evening without flinching. When I want to spend time with fellow PCVs, I sit on an 8 hour bus ride to Surabaya with minimal complaint. If a man tries to bring a goat or chicken onto the bus, I simply scoot over to give the man some room.

The wanderlust in me is not dead; it’s just dormant. I have become comfortable in my environment and I have no reason to leave any time soon. When I leave Panggul,I find myself getting anxious if I am away for a while. I want to go back to my desa/my school/my house and return to my daily activities. I feel out of place traveling for too long. In fact, people in my village comment if I am absent for a few days.

“Why weren’t you at prayer last week, miss?”

“Why didn’t you come to class?”

“When will you come back, kakak Kruti?”

People miss me and I miss them. I am no longer a stranger in a strange land. I’m a local. Here, I have a home.

This is my biasa position: on my front porch, reading a book, eating soto ayam, and drinking Indonesian black coffee in my PJ's. Come join! 

My Murid, Lesta

Last June, the Peace Corps told me I would be teaching at SMA 1 Panggul for the next 2 years of my life. I entered school a little nervous and very confused. I didn't know anyone, but I recieved a lot of attention. Teachers hurried to shake my hands. Students giggled and pointed at me. Some were brave enough to say, "Hello, Miss!" However, most students ran away from me in groups. In this culture, it's common for people to shyly cluster together. They firmly believe in the "strength in numbers" mentality.

However, one student stood out from the giggly, shy crowd. Her name is Pusvita Lestari, but her friends call her Lesta. Lesta marched up to me, shook my hand, and offered to show me around Panggul. Later that same week, I was riding my bike down to Konan Beach with her. I thought she was going to be quiet and let me do all the talking. Oh no. That's not Lesta's style. She talked my ear off....in English. In. Nearly. Perfect. English. 

Her English speaking skills astonished me. At 15 years old, her knowledge of the English language is advanced and almost equal to my mother's (my mother has lived in the US for 30 years). She told me fun facts about Panggul. She introduced me to some of her friends. She even told me an old Javanese legend called Queen of the South Sea. I had such a fun day with her. 

Throughout the year, she has helped me integrate into the school community. If I taught alone, she translated for me. If I had questions about the scheduele, she fed me the answers. If there was chaos in the classroom, she helped maintain control. She was like my little helper!

 

 

Last Thursday, Lesta entered her third English speaking competition. She was one of 45 students who competed. Each student had 7 minutes to tell a story (I'm sure you're doing the math and realizing how long I sat through this competition. It was a long day, that's all I have to say). Lesta chose to recite "The Legend of Dang Gedunai." This story explains why fishermen never go to sea when the current is strong. This is the exact text that she translated herself:

Once upon a time in Riau, there was a stubborn kid named Dang Gedunai. He lived with his mother. But he never made her happy. 

"Mom, I want to go to the river. I want to go fishing," said Dang Gedunai.

"It's cloudy outisde. Rain will soon fall. Why don't you just stay at home?"

As always, Dang Gedunai ignored her. He then went to the river. It was very cloudy when he arrived at the river side. Soon it was drizzling but Dang Gedunai was still busy fishing. Later rain fell down heavily. Dang Gedunai finally gave up. However right before he left, he saw something shining in the river. 

It was a very big egg. Carefull, Dang Gedunai brought the egg home. His mother was surprised to see him brought a big egg. 

"What egg is that? Where di you find it?" 
"In the river, Mom."
"Be careful with the eff. You have to return it," replied his mother.

As always, he ignored his mother's advice. He planned to boil the egg and ate it. In the morning, his mother was ready to go to the paddy field. Again, she advised him to put the egg back to the river. Dang Gedunai did not say anything. 

When his mother left the house, he immediately boiled the egg. When it was cookied, he ate it. It was so delicious. He was so full then he fell a sleep. He had a dream. A giant dragon came to him.

"You stole my egg. For the punishment, you will become a dragon!" Dang Gedunai woke up. He felt very thristy. Later his mother went home. 
"What happened?"
"I don't know. Suddenly I feel very thirsty. My throat is very hot."

His mother then gave him a glass of water. It's not enough. He drank another glass, then another glass, then another glass until there was not any water in the house. His mother asked him to go to the pond. Dang Gedunai drank all the water until the pond was dried. But it was not enough. Then they went to the river. Again it was not enough. Dang Gedunai knew his dream would come true. He would become a dragon. 

"Mom, please forgive me. I ignored you. I ate the egg. It was a dragon's egg. I will change as a dragon. I cannot live with you anymore. I will live in the sea. If you see big waves in the sea, that means I'm eating. But if the waves are calmed, then I'm sleeping," said Dang Gedunai. 

His mother cried. Then slowly Dang Gedunai left her. His mother ten told the villagers not to go to the sea when the waves were big. Her son was eating. Until now fisherman do not want to go fishing in the sea when the waves are big. They know the dragon is eating. They just wait until the dragon is finished eating and the waves are calmed. 

Lesta performed this speech with incredible passion. The judges were clearly impressed with her talent, which is exactly why she won first place! On May 29th, Lesta is entering another English speaking contest. She will be performing "The Legend of Dang Gedunai" and "The Legend of Bloody Mary." I will help her practice over the next 2 weeks and I have confidence that she can win another trophy!

WOMEN! And stuff

April 21 marked my second Hari Katini (or Kartini Day) in Indonesia. Hari Kartini is a day to celebrate Raden Ayu Kartini who is known today as Indonesia's prominent feminist figure. My home girl Kartini was born on April 21, 1879, into a royal Javanese family with an intellectual background. Her family only allowed her to attend school until the age of 12 (typical for Indonesian women at the time). However, Kartini continued to educate herself. She was passionate about empowering women with regards to freedom, autonomy, and legal equality. She married in November 1903 to a man who already had 3 wives. Lucky for her, Kartini's husband understood her wishes and allowed her to build a school for women. Kartini later passed away a few days after giving birth to her only son in 1904. OH! And fun fact: Homeslice Tini was a vegetarian. You go, girl.

 Here's a photo of her:

My school didn't want to celebrate Kartini Day on Tuesday, so we postponed festivities until Saturday. We basically had a 6 hour long talent competition. Additionally, students and staff members dressed up in traditional Indonesian clothing. I got jazzed up in a Kebaya and even got my hair and make up did. I wish I had a picture to show you, but sadly I do not.

During Hari Kartini festivities, I thought about women's rights in Indonesia. Of course there is plenty of work to be done here, but I'm an optomist. I like looking at the positives! So, here's a list of aspects of women's issues in Indonesia that have surprised me:

1) Wearing a hijab at my school is an option, not a requirment. I teach at a public high school (SMA), but some of my female students chose not to cover their hair. Of course majority of my students still want to wear the hijab, but that is a personal preference. Madrasahs, which are Islamic high schools, require females to wear head scarves.

2) There's no glass ceiling here. That's right, America. Take notes. Men and women receive equal pay if they have the same job and have been working for the same amount of time. BOOM.

3) The Indonesian government encourages women to get married after the age of 20. I went to a wedding last week. Guess how old the bride was? 26.

4) DUA ANAK CICUP. Sorry, that must have just sounded like random sounds to you, but they mean things here. DAC is the national family planning slogan. It literally translates into "Two children are enough." Many Indonesian families have only one or two children. After that, women AND men line up at their local Puskesmas to get sterilized. My host mom had her tubes tied and my CP's husband got a vasectomy. Boo yeah to small families!

5) Females are stereotyped to be better students. I'm not the biggest fan of this because that means my male students think it's cool to slack off.

6) Majority of my students are females. YUP. About 70% of my kids are girls. Apparently the male students tend to drop out. I haven't seen much of this, but maybe they drop out before high school? Idk. If anyone else has an answer, lemme know iya?

7) More women are becoming midwives. Midwives are trained to deliver babies and inform women when/if they need to head to the emergency room. My fellow PCV and dear friend Cait knows more about this. I'll let her speak on this subject matter. Here's the link to her brilliant blog A Prairie State of Mind- The Feminst I Live With

Like I said before, there's a lot of women's issues that I disagree with here. However, I don't want to mention them in my blog because I'm afraid of offending anyone in my village. Plus, America could use some work in the feminism department, so who am I to judge?

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