I would like to preface this blog post by saying that this past month was not the easiest. After I went through and reread the descriptions of the 30 photos that follow this brief entry, I noticed that they didn’t necessarily capture the frustration, and even disappointment, that I experienced quite frequently throughout the month of Ramadan. There are many times I asked myself, “How did you end up here?” Muslim culture is so prevalent here on Java, and thus an integral aspect of my Peace Corps service. When it was noon on the third day of fasting (an integral part of Islam), and my stomach was growling so loud that my Ibu could hear it from the room next door, I found myself asking, “Why did I sign up for this?” Ramadan certainly provided a month of plenty of reflection. Prior to this month, I thought that contemplating my relationships, service, and life on a regular basis was a lot. However, it turns out that my self-deliberation then pales in comparison to the frequency of deep reflection during Ramadan. The month was not all sunshine and roses. I struggled to connect with Bu Hertati—my host mother—this Ramadan, which was a common source of frustration. That is a story I will explain in more detail during a later post. I also learned that the benefits of fasting for a second year diminished significantly from the first year. My host family, neighbors, and teachers were thoroughly impressed with my decision to fast during my first Ramadan. They continued to talk about my “strength” long after Ramadan ended, bringing up my “hard work” quite often during throughout the rest of the year. Even though eight year olds and eighty year olds are fasting every Ramadan, they still found it impressive that I fasted, too. Fasting turned out to be a great decision, because it seemed that my community embraced my efforts to integrate and learn about their culture. My original intention for fasting a second year was to remain in their good graces. I figured that the hype around my decision to fast for a second year would be similar to that from year number one. I hope those impressions would linger within the community for the remainder of my service. Instead it appeared that people weren’t too impressed with my decision to fast a second time. I had done it once already, so it didn’t come to a surprise when they learned that I was fasting again. I suppose that they didn’t think anything of it, because they already knew that I was interested in participating in Ramadan. After all, fasting really isn’t anything special; most people in my village do it, too. As frustrating as it was at times to see their nonchalant attitude towards my decision to fast this time around, I think it is a sign that I am an ordinary member of the community. How’s that for integration? J I had great conversations during Ramadan; many of those talks provided me with insight for what projects I might want to pursue during my last year of service. Fast and Furious played on TV one morning after we finished Sahur (our 3am meal that begins fast). The multitude of gunfight and car racing scenes led to a robust discussion about American culture. One of the neighbors asked, “Do people often drive like that in America?” I assured him that the United States is portrayed differently in movies than in reality. I started thinking about the possibility of using movies in English Club this year to compare the accurate and inaccurate depictions of American culture in cinema. Additionally, we can do the same with Indonesian films and discuss how they, too, project a certain idealist form of life, even though few Indonesians actually live that way. Many people are still fascinated at hearing about how I arrived in Indonesia. They are often surprised to hear that I took five different airplanes to get to Surabaya (Madison, WI à Minneapolis, MN à Los Angeles, CA à Seoul, South Korea à Singapore à Surabaya, East Java, Indonesia). During one of these conversations, I explained that the plane from Los Angeles to Seoul did not go directly west across the Pacific Ocean, but rather, flew northwest over part of the North Pole before turning southwest to South Korea. One of my counterparts was astonished upon learning that planes traveled over the top of the earth—not just “right” and “left”. I understood where he was coming from, because I was in a similar state of shock upon learning the same thing. This got me even more excited to start working on a world map project for the school. It will benefit everyone—students, teachers, and administration—to learn more about the world. The more aware we are about the world we live in, the closer we are to understanding and accepting each other’s differences! June 14th was the last day of fasting before Idul Fitri. I woke up that morning at 3am, just like every other day of the month, to eat the morning meal before the day’s fast began. I sat outside on the front porch with Pak Djito afterwards, and we discussed plans for the two days of Idul Fitri. I admired the flags, banners, and Ramadan lights (identical to Christmas lights back home). Pak Djito hung up several strands of lights on the mango tree in our front yard. The lights blink red and white, which are the colors of Indonesia’s flag and a common color combination for the holiday. I told him that the tree was perfect for Idul Fitri, and he agreed. He then said, “We will decorate the tree the same way to celebrate Christmas with you this year. The tree isn’t just a Ramadan tree; it’s a Christmas tree, too. We can call it the holiday tree.” His idea made me smile, because I found his comments to represent what Peace Corps works so hard to achieve: cross-cultural exchange and mutual understanding. I have spent the past month (or fifteen months) observing and embracing Indonesian culture. I will take many stories, lessons, and values back to the United States to share with family and friends. I grew happy at the thought of celebrating Christmas with my Indonesian family this coming December, providing them with a chance to experience traditions from my culture. Living under the same roof together provides my host family and I an endless amount of unforeseen opportunities to teach one another about the cultures from which we come. Despite the numerous differences between our cultures, I believe it is absolutely possible for Americans and Indonesians to understand each other. It will take time for that to happen, because—as Peace Corps always reminds us—change comes slow. But I think that the most effective way to share differences, and to improve the likeliness that those dissimilarities are embraced by different cultures, is to first focus on what makes us similar. That tree with lights situated along the side of the street—the Ramadan-Christmas-mango that stands tall in front of a house where Indonesians and an American live together—is an excellent example of that first step. Selamat Idul Fitri! Mohon maaf lahir batin. (Happy Idul Fitri! I am sorry for any mistakes I have made.) Thirty Days of RamadanI hope you enjoy the following photos and videos. I used my camera as often as possible during Ramadan to help capture what I was experiencing on a daily basis. Each has a caption to explain what is taking place. Day #1: Fasting has officially begun, which means that I can expect visitors to play cards on a daily basis! Here, Hendrik confidently lays down his UNO card. Unfortunately for him—but to the benefit of the others—he ended up losing that round. Day #2: Several plots of fields were flooded with water. Several duck farmers in the neighborhood take their birds to the fields to roam about during this time. The farmer carries a long stick with a flag at the end to guide the ducks alongside the street. The stick is surprisingly effective at controlling all the ducks’ movements—even when there are distractions like me!
Day #5 : I came home from school one day to find this scene in front of the house. There were a lot of kids practicing English that afternoon! Day #6: This is the field that borders my house. I enjoy biking around it, because the expanse offers great views with the mountains in the background. The clouds offered a great shot that day. Day #7: My village is relatively far from the nearest market. Instead of people making the trek into town to buy their fruit, vegetables, and other daily food items, individuals buy the food at the markets and sell it to neighbors right at their doorsteps. This is Wahyu, and my family relies on him on a daily basis for fresh produce. One thing I find impressive about Wahyu is his punctuality. While timeliness is often nonexistent in daily Indonesian life, Wahyu arrives at our house at 6am every morning during the week. He parks his motorcycle on the side of the road, and honks his horn for a solid ten seconds to let everyone know he has arrived. Neighbors walk out of their houses and buy food from him. That horn serves as my unofficial alarm clock during the schools year! Day #8: Sara (left) and Nisa (right) are two of the older girls who join my group for cards. One day, I asked them to come at an earlier hour so that I could teach them a new game: Skip-Bo! Introducing the new game was much easier with only two people. Introducing a new game to a dozen or so wild kids can be quite the chore! Day #9: I use this bridge to cross a river right before entering the nearby town. The bridge is very narrow, which allows only pedestrians, bicycles, and motorcycles to use it. I don’t know how long ago the bridge was built, but I can’t imagine that it will be along much longer! Day #10: I spent my second weekend of fasting with my Pre-Service Training (PST) family in Kediri. Last year, Ramadan took place during the first month I lived at my permanent site, and I was not allowed to leave. This was my first Ramadan that I could fast and break fast with the first family that welcomed me to Indonesia. Here I am with Aza, my four-year-old host sister, who was dressed in her mukanah for Tarawih, the last prayer service of the day. Day #11: I went to a fabric market Kediri with a friend. While walking around, we passed a fish vendor on the side of the road. Day #12: I gave my PST host siblings Aza and Sava, and their cousins, bouncy balls as a gift. There were some accidents, but no injuries!
Day #14: The boys wanted to see how many push-ups I could do. I said I would do it, as long as they went first. It wasn’t difficult to beat them! Day #15: Several of the boys got in the habit of escorting me from school back home to play cards. Day #17: My neighbors have a new addition to their farm family! Day #18: An Ibu walks through her harvest, using her feet to overturn the gebah so that all of it can receive sun exposure. Ibu isn’t interested in soaking in the sun, hence the umbrella. Day #19: I biked into town one evening to buy fried rice. This food stand is where I always go if I want fried rice. Rizky makes it the best! Day #21: This is a good representation of how we all felt three weeks into Ramadan. On any given day, I would find people sleeping in the sitting room, kitchen, on the porch, or at the base of the stairs. Only one week to go! Day #23: During the hour leading up to breaking fast, many of the neighborhood Ibus congregate at this bench on the side of the road located in front of my house. They sit and talk, and watch people drive by, to distract themselves from the growing hunger. Day #24: I made a goal to go on a bike ride at least four times each week. Although exercising makes fasting more difficult, I needed to do something to pass the time. The bike rides provided many opportunities to meet people in villages far away from my house. During the beginning of the month, many people shouted “Bule!” (Foreigner) as I passed by. I stopped many times along my way to introduce myself, and explain why I didn’t like when people called me Bule. By the end of the month, most people were calling me Mas Adi, and the majority of kids felt comfortable talking to me and asking questions. On this particular day, the kids were more outgoing than usual. I was able to snap a lot of great selfies! Day #25: The previous harvest is done, and many of the farmers plant new padi before Idul Fitri. I bike by this field when I return home from town. You can see a brush fire off in the distance, which commonly take place in the late afternoon after the day’s head has subsided. Day #26: On my way to school one morning, several of the neighborhood boys blocked the street so I had to stop and talk. They wanted to know what time we would meet later that day to play cards. I told them 1pm, just like every other day during Ramadan! Day #27: Many of the villages put up their Idul Fitri decorations during the last weekend of fasting. These pictures show two of my favorite streets on my way into town.
Day #29: Fasting is almost over! The kids are waving goodbye to fasting outside their neighborhood mosque. Until next year, Ramadan! Day #30: I cope with the heat by lifting up my sarung so my legs can get some air. Selamat Idul Fitri! Shout-Outs: SO to my Wisconsin Senator Tammy Baldwin for the letter. I truly relish the privilege to represent my state and alma mater while overseas. COS (cautious shout-out) to the Singapore Summit that took place on June 12th with President Trump and Chairman Kim Jung-Un. Let’s hope that diplomacy prevails! SO to my friend for the new job with Wisconsin Athletics. I am thrilled that you get to be a part of the coaching staff! SO to my friend for her new position as Press Secretary in the Senate. Moving on up, one press release at a time! SO to my friend for finishing another nursing contract. ESO for celebrating in style with a 45-day European excursion. SO to Ernest Hemingway for the emotional ending to A Farewell to Arms. It was sad, but so beautiful. SO to my fellow ID11 for accepting the 2018 UNITY “25 Under 25 Native Youth Leadership Award”. The award is well deserved! HMFSO to the other PCVs who fasted for the entire Holy Month of Ramadan. HSO to my main counterpart for making sure that everything is going well for me at site. You are my most important friend during service! HSO to my siblings for their career advancements. My sister is moving up the chain at Lambeau Field and my brother found a summer internship! SO to the Capitals for bringing the Stanley Cup to Washington, DC for the first time SO to my Ibu for killing and plucking those chickens with such efficiency. ASO for the lack of remorse she displayed while cutting their throats. That was ruthless, Ibu.
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