Friday, April 14th had finally arrived; after more than one month in Indonesia, the day had come when we would learn our permanent site locations. While the Trainees grew increasingly tiresome of the daily six-hour Bahasa Indonesia classes and the endless workshops, we all had this day highlighted in our calendars—inspiration to push through the frustrations. The announcement ceremony didn’t start until 2:30 that afternoon, which left an entire morning of training meetings. I don’t think I’m alone when I say that those workshops dragged on for an eternity. But alas, I made it to 2:30 without pulling out any of my (steadily growing) hair and I only checked the time on my phone about two hundred times! The Peace Corps may teach me to be flexible, but my anxiety is an entirely different matter. I sat down with my fellow Trainees in the gymnasium at the local university, anxiously waiting for the ceremony to commence. Wanting the best view of the presentation, I opted to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of the chairs. This was not a time for me to sit back and relax. The Peace Corps staff wanted to review the entire placement process before they started to announce permanent sites. Despite my initial irritation with what seemed to be a blatant effort to delay the announcement, I was happy they provided the information to show how much goes into developing a match between schools and their new PCVs. The long, and intricate, process they presented to the PCTs gave me a new sense of appreciation for their hard work. Just when I thought I was aware of everything the staff does to make our service more enjoyable, I was delighted to learn that was only the tip of iceberg. Site development began in April of 2016, or one year before the announcement of my permanent site. Around this time last year, the Peace Corps Indonesia office received a list of 170 nominated schools from the Indonesian government. The staff reviewed the entire list and then shortened that list to 141 potential schools. If you compare that to my life at the same point last year, applying to the Peace Corps was just a twinkle in my eye. I was approaching a year at my job in the Senate and I knew that I wanted to make some moves. Peace Corps Indonesia was preparing for me before I knew I would be a PCV. The first round of site development visits took place between August and October 2016. Peace Corps staff members navigated the mountains, volcanoes, and busy roads to visit every one of those 141 schools. Considering that there were so many schools, and they were all hours from one another, it’s no wonder that it took staff three months to complete their initial site development visits. While the Peace Corps staff navigated the Javanese landscape for those three months, I started making moves towards serving as a PCV. I applied to the Peace Corps at the beginning of June 2016, learned that I was being considered to serve in Indonesia at the end of June, interviewed at the beginning of July, and accepted my position shortly after the Fourth of July weekend. I spent the remainder of July, August, September, and October completing paperwork for my medical and legal clearances. I had to complete various homework assignments for the Peace Corps Indonesia staff in addition to my clearance paperwork. While the medical clearance went through without a hitch, you all know at this point that my legal clearance was another store. The second round of site development visits occurred during January and February 2017. This time, however, the PC staff visited their sixty-one finalists. At this point, I had quit my job with the Senate, moved from Washington, DC back to Wisconsin, and was in the middle of my three-month travel extravaganza. I enjoyed the company of friends and family while the Peace Corps solidified last plans for the final list of permanent site locations. I was unemployed, without a home, and traveling out of my new hiking backpack. The legal clearance still had not gone through, and the Peace Corps had finally formed the list of my potential new homes. When the PCTs arrived in country on March 12th, 2017, the Peace Corps staff had their list of possible site placements. Schools’ PCV preferences—gender, age, and experience—played a major factor in the PC Indonesia staff’s placement arrangements. For each Trainee, the next month of workshops, language classes, and interviews with staff would also contribute to where he or she ends up. All of those factors led to my match with a school on the staff’s coveted list of school finalists. After all of that background material, the permanent site announcements finally commenced. Similar to the Sorting Hat at Hogwarts, or maybe closer to the announcement of District Twelve’s tributes, Peace Corps staff members took turns reading a name aloud, followed by the region that person would serve for two years. One by one, PCTs heard their name and joined the staff members in front of the chairs to claim their packet of information—the information about their future city, village, school, and host family. At least half of the Trainees had been called, but I sat and waited. I had no idea so many PCT names begin with the letter ‘A’. I stood up in error multiple times thinking that the staff was about to announce my name. Finally, it happened: “Addison Winger, East Java”. Boom. More than one year since the Peace Corps received their list of potential permanent site placements, and nearly one year since I applied to the Peace Corps, I was bound to a new home. I walked up to the staff members to collect the information about my site. A different staff member escorted me to the other side of the gymnasium where there was a large map of the island of Java written in chalk across the width of the room. The staff member led me to the southwestern part of East Java and directed me to stand in a very specific spot within the map. “Welcome to Bantengan, Kabupaten Tulungagung—your new home!” I stood in my special spot and watched the other Trainees arrive at their respective spots on the map. I rejoiced at seeing some people whose sites were relatively close to mine, but it was disheartening to see other people placed so far away from me. The distances between our sites will significantly influence the frequency in which we see one another over the course of the next two years. After I grasped a general idea of everyone’s locations, I opened my packet of site information to see what was in store for me. I am honored to introduce you to my school and its location, where the next two years will indubitably become the most impactful and memorable of my young life. I will be an English teacher at SMK Bandung 1, which is a vocational high school that is home to grades ten through twelve. Although there are only three grades, there are approximately 2200 students at the school that are sure to make my work exciting but tiring, and rewarding yet frustrating. Since it is a vocational school, there are six tracts—or specializations—that students choose from to learn during their three years at school: automotive engineering, motorcycle manufacturing, farming equipment, software development, accounting, and office administration. There are 101 total teachers, but seven of them are English teachers. The average class size is 30 students, which makes about sixty classes in the entire school. Unlike in the United States, students remain in the same classroom with the same classmates and the teachers come to them. The school is located in Kabupaten Tulungagung, Jawa Timur, Indonesia. It’s a mouthful, right? Let’s work backwards to explain what that all means: Indonesia—Country Jawa Timur—State or Province Kabupaten—County I am located in a relatively rural area; my school is in a small Desa as opposed to a city. The village is decent car ride from the nearest bus or train station. I was able to see how rural my site is first hand because I was scheduled to visit my future school a couple days later. All Trainees had to prepare to leave for their site within the following forty-eight hours. For the Trainees who will serve in West Java, that means they needed to prepare for a fifteen hour train ride from Kediri that left the following morning. Some of the Trainees traveled for nearly thirty hours to get to their new site, just to come back for training two days later. Fortunately for me, my school is located just about two hours south; my principal insisted on picking me up from the university in Kediri and driving me to my site. Sunday, April 16th was Easter. I grabbed my duffel bag that morning and biked to the Peace Corps office, which is where I awaited the arrival of my school’s principal. I wanted to get to the office slightly earlier than the scheduled pick-up time in order to review the details of the school, and the names of my principal and vice-principals, one last time. You only get one chance to make a first impression, and when the school administration has the potential to make or break my two-year service, I figured that knowing their names would put me on the right path. I also had the opportunity to talk with Peace Corps staff for a few minutes, which helped settle my nerves. I put the list back into my backpack when I felt comfortable with the half dozen names of people coming to pick me up. I zipped up my bag and looked up to see the office door swing open—a short, plump man with a giant grin walked into the room. To my relief, the school principal arrived with only two other men. Unluckily, only one person arrived as expected, and that was Pak Nurhasyim—the school principal. I needed to be introduced to the other two men: one was a member of the administrative staff, and the second was Mas Wendi, one of the English teachers. After a slightly awkward meet and greet between the school representatives and Peace Corps staff members, I left the office to embark on my permanent site visit. Mas Wendi drove the car, and since he was the only one among the three of them who speaks English, the principal insisted that I ride shotgun. The principal said that the ride to school should take about an hour and a half, which surprised me. I Google mapped the distance from the university to school and it’s less than forty miles. The confusion faded away within the first fifteen minutes of our drive. We drove on a narrow, two-lane road—used by cars, buses, bikes, rickshaws, and cow carts alike—for the entire journey, rarely exceeding third gear on the car’s manual transmission (for those automatic drivers out there, we consistently drove around 30 miles an hour). The traffic scene proved to be quite the distraction from holding a conversation in Bahasa Indonesia with my new co-workers. Mas Wendi asked me if I would prefer to speak in English or Bahasa Indonesia. I told him that I wanted to use whatever language he felt more comfortable with. He asked me to practice speaking Bahasa Indonesia to him while he spoke English with me. Our conversation gravitated towards the typical questions that arise between an Indonesian eager to practice English and myself: Do you like Indonesia? What are American people like? Do have a girlfriend? Once I get those routine questions out of the way, I tried to redirect the conversation to learn about the other person: What are your hobbies? Why did you choose to learn English? Why did your school want a Peace Corps Volunteer? A common response for why someone chooses to learn English is because they want to visit the United States. Although that is a fair answer, the reasons why they want to visit America can be comical. For example, Mas Wendi wants to visit the United States, and more specifically California, because he loves American music and movies. His favorite band is Metallica and his favorite movie is Resident Evil. It took some self-restraint to suppress any laughter, or even a smile from that response. Although I didn’t ask, there were two questions I had in response to his assertion: Do you really think that Resident Evil is an accurate depiction of real-life American culture? And more importantly, if that’s the case, then why does that make you want to go there? But it’s not my place to squash his dreams or ambitions, especially when I just met him. Mas Wendi will reflect on those expectations when he visits my country. We turned off the road into a small village, took a left, and then pulled through a gate—we had arrived at my school. Mas Wendi parked the car on the basketball court, which is in a courtyard at the center of the school complex. I stepped out of the car for my first views of the site: class buildings on all four sides of the courtyard, palm trees surrounding the buildings, and mountains off in the distance. What a site to behold! I immediately thought about how many times I would gaze off into the distance, and made a mental note to never take the views for granted. I followed Pak Nurhasyim into an office and sat down in a chair next to him. A school staff member handed me food and water while others started setting up chairs. I couldn’t understand anything they were saying due to the frantic manner in which they were speaking to one another. I asked why they were setting up the chairs, and my principal said that I needed to introduce myself to the teachers. I expected to meet the seven English teachers, but the number of chairs said otherwise. Actually the dozens of chairs didn’t accurately foreshadow the number of teachers that would attend the meeting because eventually people had to stand in the back of the room and in the doorway. Pak Nurhasyim began to speak, and the room fell quiet. After he finished speaking, he motioned for me to continue the presentation. It is sure to be the most-broken Bahasa Indonesia speech that any of those educators will ever hear; I mustered as much vocabulary and grammar from my five weeks of language classes to piece together an “introduction”. I gave a brief synopsis of who I am, followed by my work with the Peace Corps. I thanked them for welcoming me to their school and village. I apologized for not speaking Bahasa Indonesia well, but I assured them that I would learn quickly! I concluded my introduction with a sentence in Bahasa Jawa (Javanese), their local and preferred language, and that brightened their eyes. The principal introduced me to Pak Djito, the man who graciously opened his house for me to live with him for two years. He is without a doubt the shortest grown man I have seen during my time in Indonesia. Not even reaching my shoulders, he rivals some of my shorter friends in the United States. Pak Djito informed me that he is a retired elementary school teacher. I hope that means he will look at any misunderstandings between us as learning moments instead of aggravating experiences. I shook hands with more people than I could count; I answered so many questions and ate so much food. When all of that came to a close, I was rather exhausted. I must not have done a very good job at hiding those feelings because the principal insisted that I go home with Pak Djito to rest. Pak Rahadi, one of the school’s vice-principals, told me that the house was closer to the mountains so the air would be much fresher and I would feel energized in no time. Intrigued by the idea of living in the mountains, I hopped in Mas Wendi’s car with the principals and we followed Pak Djito on his scooter. We turned left, then right, and then we pulled in front of my new house. Was the air really fresher two minutes away from school? No way. Did I say that to the vice-principal? Of course not—I told him that I felt more energized as soon as I stepped out of the car. Pak Djito introduced me to my host mom, Ibu Hertati, who is similar in height to her husband. Just like Pak Djito, she speaks Bahasa Jawa. The first thing vice-principal Rahadi translated from her was, of course, about food: “If you don’t eat a lot, then I will be sad. If you eat a lot, then I will be happy.” If that’s the golden rule of the household, then I think I can live with that! They brought me into their home and led us to a living room. I sat in chairs with Pak Nurhasyim on my left, Pak Rahadi and Mas Wendi on my right, and my host parents on the sofa on the other side of the coffee table. The principal initiated another awkward official introduction, which seems to be customary during these types of occasions. It appears that it is customary for the guest to finish these talks too. The school staff exited the house to get into the van and return to work. Before pulling away from the house, vice-principal Rahadi asked me to be at the school the following morning at 6:45am sharp. “I want you to help us make the students more disciplined. The morning ceremonies are supposed to start at 6:45, but students never arrive until 7. Please set a good example for everyone.” The car pulled away and I was left with my new host parents. I prepared myself for a difficult evening of struggling to communicate with the two of them. I couldn’t have prepared enough; it proved to be more uncomfortable than I initially imagined. Fortunately, my host parents advised that I go to bed early because I needed the rest—I agreed with them. I was fast asleep before 8 o’clock on my first evening at permanent site, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I woke up to my alarm the following morning. I instantly felt as though something was very different about that morning, other than waking up in a new location. For the first time since I had arrived in Indonesia, I actually slept until my alarm. I thought that maybe there wasn’t a mosque or Musholla (prayer room) near the house. I made a mental note to check that out during my walk to school. I got ready, ate more food than I could have ever needed for breakfast, and set out for my first walk to school. I looked for a mosque or Musholla, and was delighted to see that the closest one is several blocks from my house. I can look forward to sleeping past four in the morning in the near future! I arrived at the administrator’s office at school before 6:45. During my walk through the school’s campus, I noticed the small amount of students who were there. Pak Rahadi was right, there was no way 2200 kids would make it for the morning ceremony that was scheduled to begin in ten minutes. But it turns out neither would the teachers, administrators, or Pak Rahadi himself. It wasn’t until closer to 7:15 that the English teachers came to the principal’s office to get me and bring me out to the courtyard for the ceremonies. Pak Rahadi stood on a raised platform in the center of the courtyard while the students stood in military-like rows and columns, separated in blocks by class. Pak Rahadi gave a lengthy introduction and then invited me to join him on the podium to address the students. The fifteen seconds it took for me to walk from the far side of the courtyard to the podium at the center proved to be the most uncomfortable experience I have had since being in Indonesia. All of the students’ heads turned to me, and their eyes closely followed my path to the podium. On top of that, Pak Rahadi urged the students to continue applauding for me until I had the microphone in my hand. I gave essentially the same speech that I presented to the teachers the previous day, but perhaps with a few less stumbles since it was no longer original material. I spent the entire day with my fellow English teachers both Monday and Tuesday. I toured the classrooms, mechanical workshops, and other academic facilities. I wanted to get an idea of the school’s resources so that I can start thinking of teaching ideas during my last month of training. I went to class to watch my future counterparts teach; I was fortunate to observe four of the seven English teachers. Due to my presence in class, the teachers implored that the classes were not as productive nor were the students well behaved. I certainly believed them. I ended up answering questions in every class I observed about the United States and myself. It was fine that the students were distracted and got off course, but I won’t be so lenient when I’m teaching them on a daily basis! Some of the teachers drove me into the city on Tuesday. They showed me the important spots: the local police station, post office, clinic, supermarket, fruit market, etc. We ate lunch at a small corner restaurant where the teachers bombarded me with questions about teaching English—what did they need to do to become better teachers? That was tricky for me to answer. On one hand, I didn’t want to start offering advice and opinions during my first days visiting—that can happen when I am an official teacher at site. Second of all, I am not a teacher and I do not feel prepared whatsoever to start handing out critiques to people who went to college to become teachers. I assured them that they are all great teachers, and working together will be very fulfilling for the students and staff alike. Most certainly, I am impressed by their desire to become better teachers and I am enthusiastic to work with such an evidently motivated group! After lunch, we drove thirty minutes to the local beach. That’s right, the ocean. The beach’s proximity according to Google Maps, however, is quite deceiving; the mountainous road would make a trip on a bike pretty grueling. I’m confident that if I really need a day at the beach, that tough bike ride isn’t going to keep me away. I’m delighted to be living a bike ride away from multiple spots on the Indian Ocean. Some Peace Corps Volunteers have already expressed their interest in using my location as a hub for some weekend beach adventures. Maybe some friends back home in the States will do something similar? We will wait and see! I spent both evenings sitting with my host family in the living room. Despite the minimal conversation my first night at site, there was far more discussion by the third night. Since I had spent two full days with staff at school, and two previous evenings learning from my host parents, I had acquired enough Bahasa Jawa to contribute towards a more substantive conversation. I couldn’t carry on a discussion of any topic in Bahasa Jawa, but I could supplement my extremely low level of Javanese with my intermediate level of Bahasa Indonesia. Hopefully, the longer I live at site, I can filter more Javanese into the evening conversations. I have a stack of Bahasa Jawa flash cards to use during the remainder of my Pre-Service Training. Wednesday morning I was ready by eight for Mas Wendi to pick me up at the house. After exchanging phone numbers, and assuring that I would let them know when I safely arrive back in Kediri, I bid my host parents farewell. I will see them in one month! I stopped at the school to say good-bye to the teachers and principals. They, too, took down my contact information and said they would keep in touch. Mas Wendi and I headed to the bus station—about a thirty-minute drive—to catch a bus back to Kediri. The school originally planned on driving me back home, but Peace Corps insisted that I practice taking public transportation. It’s annoying, but I understand the policy. Mas Wendi personally walked me to my bus, and waited at the terminal until it pulled out of the lot. The hour-long bus ride back to Kediri on Wednesday afternoon was the first time for me to be alone, not counting sleeping time, since Saturday evening. Even though the bus ride wasn’t peaceful or quiet (I am under the impression that this observation applies to all bus rides in Java), I was able to gaze out the window and reflect on the three and a half days at my permanent site. I was extremely excited; my teachers appeared motivated, the administration seemed to support my presence at school, and my host family and neighbors looked very excited at the prospect of me living in their community for two years. All of that considered those are the thoughts I gathered after an initial seventy-two hour site observation, a first impression. As hard as it is for my positive personality, I am trying to remain cautiously optimistic that I have the ‘perfect’ site. I need to prepare for the worst-case scenarios: will the teachers’ motivation fade away as their fasciation with the new foreigner regresses? Will the administration use me as a tool for recruiting more students, and thus more money, to the school? Will my host family be as welcoming and friendly when people aren’t frequently checking in? I think it is important for me to consider those questions just as much as, or even more than, the positive impressions that consumed my thoughts during the bus ride. If I truly have the ‘perfect’ site, then wouldn’t that be considered an abnormal Peace Corps experience? Everyone knows that a Peace Corps Volunteer is faced with constant challenges, and how that Volunteer deals with the adversity will determine how successful the service is. I expected to encounter obstacles when I applied for the Peace Corps, which makes me want to deal some imperfect scenarios. Those are the skills I hope to gain during my service and apply to the context of my future academic, professional, or social experiences. The bus “stopped” to drop me off at the side of the road near the university. I walked to the Peace Corps office to grab my bike. I used the office’s Wi-Fi to WhatsApp all of the principals, teachers, and family members who were waiting for news of my safe arrival home. My host siblings ran out onto the front porch to welcome me: Aza showed off a new pair of sandals that Ibu Ira bought for her; Safa asked if we could play cards that night after I ate dinner and showered. Ibu Ira had food waiting for my arrival, and my parents wanted us all to sit down together for dinner so that I could share my experiences. When I finally made it to bed—after the food, shower, and cards—I did the routine social media check. I had messages from some friends and family inquiring about my site visit, but the WhatsApp messages took most of my time. The majority of people from my permanent site, to whom I had sent a confirmation regarding my return home, had responded with a picture they had taken with me at some point during my visit. I was happy to know that their enthusiasm has lasted at least for the few hours since I left site. I went to bed thinking about the positive impression I gathered during site visit, but also the possible difficulties that could arise once I am at site for a longer period of time. I ran through both of those lists in my head multiple times; but naturally, I lingered on the positives. I ended up falling asleep full of excitement, completely—and dangerously—pushing the negative thoughts out of my mind. Do I have the perfect site? I certainly think so. Maybe my inability to see the red flags makes me a naïve Peace Corps Trainee. Perhaps the red flags don’t exist at all and I was lucky enough to get that perfect site. But maybe there are plenty of red flags, but those are what will make my service challenging, and equally rewarding. Only time will tell! Shout-Outs:
SO to a fellow PCT for teaching weekly Salsa and Bachata dance classes. We all look forward to Thursday evenings! SO to all the PCTs for heading to their permanent site visits; we were all on our own for the first time on this island. SO to my Mandi (bath). It’s incredibly hot in Indonesia, all the time. The Mandi water is cold, but it’s exactly what I need after a long, hot day. Another SO goes for the midday Mandi. I advise any other PCVs to make a serious effort to get a Mandi session in between the morning and evening. It’s life changing! HSO to Mas Wendi for handling everything related to my permanent site visit. He made sure that everything went smoothly, and that I was taken care of. HMFSO to my CL Maya for all of her work. She finished her work with Peace Corps this past week. She was the only CL who is still a university student, which meant that she was taking care of PCTs full-time while attending to her studies. She’s a boss!
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April 12, 2017 marked one month since I arrived in Indonesia. During that month, I have had the pleasure to become acquaintances with many people: 57 other PCTs, dozens of current PCVs, many people who make up the Peace Corps Indonesia Staff, my host family, and from my best estimation, hundreds of local Indonesians who are eager to here about where I come from. One month may not be ample time for me to acquire a comprehensive understanding of the Peace Corps Indonesia program, but I have had more than enough time to see what kind of influence I have on the local people, and with what impression of the United States I leave with them. As a white foreigner in the middle of Java, I am constantly aware of the impact I have when I enter a store, restaurant, or classroom. Although the attention I receive from the local people comes from a place of genuine curiosity, it makes it particularly difficult to integrate into my new community, and ultimately, become an Indonesian myself. A promising sign of integrating into my community presented itself during my morning three-minute bike ride to language class. Every morning since I moved in with my host family, I say “Selamat pagi” (good morning) to all of the people outside their homes while I pedal towards class. The more days that passed, the more I realized that I was saying good morning to the same people. Gradually, I can remember more and more faces, which helps me connect with each person and I can ask more in-depth questions about their lives during my morning route. This past Monday morning, I set off from home on my bike like every other day. That morning, I was not particularly enthralled at the idea of putting on a smile and greeting the usual dozen people along my commute. I made a deliberate attempt not to make eye contact and greet the usual neighbors. Despite my intentions, the first neighbor I passed on the left side of the road made the effort to greet and wave at me. I was not in a foul enough mood to ignore the man, so I responded with a kind smile. The next neighbor did the same thing; again, the same thing happened with the woman who lives on the corner where I turn right. By the time I ended up at my language class, I had still interacted with nearly ten of the locals that I usually greet on a daily basis. I realized that all of those people are comfortable approaching this new foreigner who lives in their village, and also don’t mind taking the big step of engaging in conversation with him. I parked my bike and joined my language class with a giant smile, appreciating that my neighbors set me on a positive track for my entire Monday. I am fortunate that they helped me start my day on such a positive note; otherwise, that could have been quite the miserable and stressful Monday! Perhaps I am integrating into my community faster than I thought. The Peace Corps Staff recommends that we use our Community Leaders and Language Facilitators as resources for integrating into the community. Last week some my favorite LFs invited me to join them and play Badminton—the national sport of Indonesia. Having played Badminton with my cousins during a picnic, or with friends at the beach, I considered myself to be a relatively experienced Badminton player compared to most other Americans. Any of those presumptions quickly flew out the window when I played my first real Badminton game. Wow, it is an entirely different game when it’s taken seriously! I have had the opportunity to play several times with my LFs, and each time they claim to see improvement in my game. Hopefully I can buy my own racket and continue to play when I move to permanent site! Developing connections with more locals, of course, provides additional challenges. Adults, students, and children all ask about my social media accounts and want to add me. Peace Corps has cautioned us about this many times, warning that connecting on social media could lead to various issues. As I noted in an earlier entry, the values of Indonesian and American cultures—though similar in theory—are projected very differently, and nothing exemplifies those differences more than on social media. What local Indonesians might expect to see on my Instagram account might drastically vary from the impressions they gather of me in person. For example, there is a picture of me on Instagram sporting a Bucky Badger speedo. Even though I would wear that speedo anywhere and anytime to represent the university, sport, and team that I love, it might come across differently for Indonesians—most of who have never seen me without long pants and a button-down shirt. In addition to these different cultural projections, the country of Indonesia has more social media accounts than any other country in the world. Many people may be surprised by this interesting fact, but when you consider the Indonesian population of roughly 250 million (the fourth most populated country in the world), it might not be as alarming. In my short experience, it is highly unlikely for someone to not have an account on at least one social media platform. Current Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs) acknowledge that this is an important issue to consider, and suggest making new social media accounts just for Indonesian students, teachers, and families. That way I can effectively monitor what is appropriate for my American connections, and what is suitable for my Indonesian friends. For that reason, I plan on changing my current Facebook and Instagram account name so that my Indonesian students cannot find me on social media. I will use my full name for new Facebook and Instagram accounts that my Indonesian students and co-teachers can access. That way I do not need to stress over those potential cross-cultural misunderstandings. What do other PCVs use for their pseudonyms? Many use their middle names, mother’s maiden name, or favorite writer. I thought about using Lane, my middle name, but I am hesitant. Addison is already too androgynous of a name, and making my full name Addison Lane would only add to that confusion. I thought about changing my name to a deceased family member’s, but then I would be too concerned that my current connections on social media would not recognize that new “normal” name, and “de-friend” or “unfollow” me. When I am using social media as a platform for promoting cross-cultural exchange, the last thing I want is fewer friends! That led me to one conclusion: I need to make a pseudonym so ridiculous that any connections on social media would instantly remember why they are friends with someone who has that name. After a tireless internal debate, I would like to introduce you my alias. The name is Roosevelt, Buckingham Roosevelt: your friend, relative, former co-worker or classmate who is (almost) serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Indonesia. Why did I go with Buckingham Roosevelt? Let me break it down for you. Buckingham is the full first name of Bucky Badger, the cherished mascot of my beloved alma mater, the University of Wisconsin-Madison. I am seriously considering naming a child after him, so I figured it would be a good idea to try the name on myself and see how it goes. Perhaps it would work better as a middle name for my kid. Maybe not even as any name for a kid, but for the family dog instead. I have a lot of time to think about that. Roosevelt, my pseudo last name, is dedicated to my favorite President, Franklin Delano Roosevelt. If you don’t know much about the man then I advise that you do some reading! The guy was elected not once, not twice, but four times. He served for three full terms, and then died during the second year of his fourth term. During his fourteen years as President, he skillfully led the United States out of the world’s worst economic depression and most horrific war, all while suffering from the crippling disease of Polio. I admire his tenacity for improving the lives of so many people, and his dedication to our great country. There you have it! I have taken on the names of two men who are some of my biggest role models in life. I have yet to think of a suitable middle name. Perhaps you would be willing to give me some ideas? I will consider anything! Tomorrow, April 14th, Peace Corps Staff announces our permanent site placements. I will then leave Saturday or Sunday (depending on where I am placed) to visit my future home for a few days. I plan on changing my name on my social media accounts the day before I visit my permanent site for the first time. I will be back in Kediri by Wednesday of next week! I’m sure I will have a lot to share with you all. In the mean time, Buckingham Roosevelt will still be available via Facebook Messenger, Instagram and WhatsApp. Please, don’t be afraid to reach out! Shout-Outs:
SO to my fellow PCT for leading a Wednesday night Salsa and Bachata dance class. Who would have thought I would have my first lesson in East Java, Indonesia?! SO to my host family for being more and more hospitable as the days go on. HSO goes to my host sister Aza for completely warming up to me. An additional SO goes to my brother Safa for mastering both Uno and Skip-Bo! I’m happy to learn that you are quite the card shark! HMFSO goes to the current PCVs who come to training every week to share their knowledge, advice, and guidance with the Trainees. We would not be anywhere near as prepared without your help! And, of course, a separate SO goes to both Bucky Badger and FDR for being absolute bosses. One week after moving in with my PST host family, I went to the Peace Corps office to connect with friends, the Wi-Fi, and air conditioning. The bike ride back to my new home is only about fifteen minutes. I ride along a busy street for a couple blocks, but other than that it isn’t too challenging. I smelt a smoky, burning smell when I was two blocks from home. BBQ? No. Wood fire? Nope. Burning pile of trash? You betcha. That was not the first time I identified that smell, but it was when I first learned of from where the stench originated. It’s unfortunate, but that is how many Indonesian families dispose of their garbage. There are no private companies or government services for trash collectors. That leaves Indonesians with the option to get rid of their garbage however they want. I smell burning garbage during class and in the evening, but the worst is when I wake up in the morning from the strong stench. I cover my face with my shirt to block the smell, but it doesn’t help very much. While you read the above story, you might paint a negative picture in your head about Indonesia: piles of burning garbage lining the streets and thick smoke filling houses. Please don’t let one negative or unpleasant story consume your general impression of Indonesia’s people and culture. There are aspects of society in every country that need improvement, and it is important to take those pieces along with the positive ones. The intention of this blog is to share all of my experiences—good and bad—with all of you back home. I wanted to share that anecdote so you can be authentically aware of all of my daily experiences. Sunday, March 26, 2017 was my first day in Indonesia with no classes or meetings. I had the entire day to make my own plans. I spent time with Safa and Aza in the morning before I went with my family to visit Ibu Ira’s parents. Ira rolled her moped onto the street in front of the house, allowed Safa and Aza to climb up to sit in front and behind her, and they took off. I followed the scooter on my bike. Safa, who was sitting on the back of the seat, turned around to make faces at me as we turned corners and waited at traffic lights. I ended my first free day watching and playing soccer with the family and neighborhood kids. The passion for the sport is what I imagine it to be in countries in Europe and Latin America. It’s a shame that the widespread interest throughout Indonesia for the sport doesn’t translate into a strong national team on the world stage. Aza likes to rub my head while we watched soccer; my hair has grown back just enough so that she likes the prickly feeling. I can tell that I am slowly adjusting to the abrupt 4am call to prayer. I am gradually waking up later and later into the call, which shows that I subconsciously choose to ignore it. But alas, I still find myself waking up before day breaks on a daily basis. I try to find the silver lining of this loud, perhaps inconveniently timed, announcement. I listen to the song, and slowly I can pick out words that I learned from my Arabic classes during college. Islam is deeply ingrained in the Indonesian culture and many religious Arabic phrases are used in every day conversations. People often say “Alhamdulillah” (praise God) at moments similar to when someone in the States says, “thank the Lord”. Someone often says “Insha Allah” (God willing) when people are discussing hypothetical situations. When I toured the Islamic middle school during my first week in Kediri, all of the classroom signs were labeled in English, Indonesian, and Arabic. Even more convenient, some Indonesian words are easier for me to remember because they are the same as in Arabic. I didn’t imagine utilizing any Arabic skills while serving in Indonesia, but here I am speaking and reading! Life is full of surprises, and silver linings too. (I can hear the 6pm call to prayer while I am writing this entry so I decided to turn the volume up on Chance the Rapper’s Coloring Book album to drown it out.) Saturday, April 1, 2017 marked two full weeks since I moved in with my PST host family. I am much more settled into a routine compared to my first week, which provides me with opportunities to relax and observe my surroundings. I am no longer worried about getting lost on my way to class or too timid to walk around campus during Friday lunch breaks. I spend less time focusing on my direction and more time looking at the mountains and volcanoes off in the distance, the vendors along side the streets, and the abundance of sounds and smells that emanate from the houses. I had my final interview with Peace Corps staff before they decide my permanent site placement location. This was the last opportunity for me to voice any preferences or concerns before they make the decision on where I will live for two years. We discussed integration into my PST community: adapting to the new culture, language and workshop classes, and relations with my host family. The PC staff also spoke to my language facilitators and cultural liaisons for their opinions of my growth and adaptability. The staff employed the following four questions for the interview (my responses follow): Question #1: What have you learned about yourself and Peace Corps that might impact how you approach your service over the next two years? I am exceptionally eager to promote cross-cultural exchange, which conveniently compromises two-thirds of the Peace Corps’ goal. I look forward to assuming the role of an ambassador for the United States and Peace Corps’ missions of “soft diplomacy”. I am excited to teach students and community members about the United States, and more importantly, the great state of Wisconsin. Fortunately I have flags, maps, and personal mementos that will provide Indonesians with enough evidence to agree that Wisconsin is the best state in the Union. Cross-cultural exchange also requires that I bring the Indonesian culture back to the United States. This blog is a primary example of that exchange; I am sharing my experiences with Indonesia’s people, traditions, and norms with friends and family back in the United States. I also have a better understanding for the Peace Corps’ decision to place Volunteers for 27-months. While I still find the time commitment daunting, there are two conclusions I have arrived at that explain why any shorter time period would prove ineffective; and even more, why 27-months might still be too short. First, any potential change or development in my permanent community will rely on the relationships I build with community leaders, school administrators and teachers, and local families. I will not be able to engage the local people unless I have their respect and undisputed trust. Many current PCVs acknowledge that it can take an entire year before a Volunteer builds a solid network among community members. When I moved to Washington, D.C. it took me an equivalent amount of time before I felt I had an established group of friends, peers, and mentors whom I could completely trust. That was without any language and cultural barriers. Second, it is important that I move to my village without any predisposed ideas of what development projects I want to pursue for my community during my service. If I do that, then it is quite possible that I work towards a goal that is not a priority for the community; thus, the people may not be inspired to exert their time and resources to the cause, and any hope for the project to endure after I leave is moot. I will simultaneously reflect upon the needs of the community, and take opinions and advice from others, while I build relationships with people in my new village. I want to stimulate sustainable development—change that will continue to expand and progress after I leave the country. Question #2: How do you feel about a site placement that is geographically challenging and requires extra efforts to access public transportation, amenities, and banking? (Biking, hours of waiting in an angkot, etc.) And Question #3: What is your ideal host family? (I.e. children, privacy, etc.) And Question #4: With what age or grade level students are you more comfortable working? I gave the Peace Corps staff the same answer to all three of those questions: I have no preference whatsoever. I put my fate completely in their hands. I did not select a country preference when I originally applied to the Peace Corps and I ended up in a pretty incredible country. I decided to continue with my recently professed desire to “go with the flow”. We’ll see where I end up, and with whom! I chose to make a couple additional points at the end of the interview. I reiterated the seriousness of which I take the second and third goals of the Peace Corps Mission: cross-cultural exchange. I also brought to light how I strive to maintain a positive attitude at all times. I explained that my optimistic outlook and a(n abnormally) large amount of energy emanate from that positivity. I requested that the PC staff take my positivity and energy into account when they evaluate my pre-service training and make a decision on my permanent placement. Unsurprisingly, I am optimistic that the impressions I leave on the program, and the work I conduct during PST, will lead me to a great site with amazing students, teachers, families, and community members. The site announcement ceremony takes place on Friday, April 14th. I will keep you posted on any developments! PC staff arranged teaching sessions for us on Sunday, April 2nd. This was the first opportunity for me to teach English to students, and show PC staff my teaching abilities. I was assigned to a fifth grade class and introduced the students to shapes. There were eight Trainees in total who divided up approximately fifty students. I taught ten students with a fellow PCT. Despite my initial hesitations of teaching a group of students, their curiosity and blatant enthusiasm allowed me to relax in the front of the classroom and be myself. The students picked up the material quite impressively, and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. The teaching session conveniently took place the day before PC staff makes the decision for our permanent site placements. I have no doubt that they took our teaching skills and professional conduct into consideration when making important decisions. Today I had a Bahasa Indonesia exam during class to test my knowledge of the language. The cumulative exam included what I have learned from day one to yesterday. After the test my Language Facilitator held a review interview with each member of the language cluster. The LFs rotate between clusters on a weekly basis so that each group is exposed to the different dialects and accents of native Bahasa Indonesia speakers. Fortunately, the LF who I had during my first week at the hotel was the instructor who conducted this review interview. My LF began my review and said, “Addison, you are very good at keeping your promises.” That statement must have left me with a puzzled look on my face, because he asked, “Do you know what promise I am talking about?” Still puzzled, my LF continued. He also conducted my initial language interview on my first day in Indonesia. During that first interview he asked me many questions in Bahasa Indonesia. I had no idea what he was asking me, never mind that I didn’t know how to respond either. The more questions he asked, the more embarrassed I became. I couldn’t even count to three. What occupied my thoughts while I stared at the floor and listened to this man ask me questions in gibberish? I was ashamed for not knowing the language, his language. I felt as if I was disrespecting the Indonesian people for moving to their country but not knowing a lick of their language. I apologized for knowing so little, and I promised that I would work hard to learn as much Indonesian as I could—as quickly as possible. Fast forward to the review that I had today. My LF smiled and reiterated, “You kept your promise to learn Bahasa Indonesia as quickly as possible. Thank you for keeping that promise.” I left that meeting with a big smile and a newfound determination to make him proud. I feel much more comfortable in this country knowing that I can communicate in the native language. I don’t have to rely on a local’s ability to speak English. After all, this is their home, and learning their language well is an important key to integrating into a place that I also want to call home. The locals welcome my efforts to speak in Bahasa Indonesia; their smiles—a sure sign of appreciation—reassure me that I am doing something great, and I leave those interactions with a warm heart. Sure, I am far from my great homeland, but home is where the heart is, right? Shout-Outs:
HMFSO to my Ibu Ira for making Pisang Goreng (fried bananas). That is the best food I have had since I arrived in Indonesia. SO to my LFs for being great language teachers. An extra special SO goes to my LF Moko for his patience, encouragement, and kindness. SO to my host brother Safa for helping me with my Bahasa Indonesia homework. You’re the real MVP. HSO to my CLs Lana and Maya for all of their hard work and patience. They organize all of our cultural events, English workshops, and make sure that we are comfortable. I wouldn’t be as happy in Kediri if it wasn’t for them! ASO to the weather. It is always in the 90s and super humid. Furthermore, it tends to pour every day during the exact ten minutes I need to bike back home from class. |
AddisonHometown: La Crosse, WI Archives
May 2019
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