I learned a lot about myself and Indonesia during the past twenty-seven months; but after all the time reflecting and thinking, there are still many aspects of Indonesia--culture, environment, day-to-day routines--that I have yet to master. The following list is a collection of concepts I thought about almost every day throughout service. I sought answers for many of them from host family members, teachers, and community members alike, but never found a solid answer to satisfy my curiosity. The entering of windI learned about masuk angin within the first week I lived in Indonesia. Translated as, and literally meaning “entering wind,” Indonesians treat this an illness similar to how we treat a simple head cold. The way Indonesians “catch” the malady, however, is what I find particularly interesting. Despite the heat, Indonesians prefer to wear jackets and pants while driving motorcycles in order to prevent the wind from entering their bodies. That is how they get sick. My host family warns me against standing in front of a fan, or sleeping with the fan on all night, for fear that the wind will enter my body and I will get sick (I sleep with the fan on every single night; I wake up with a head cold every now and then). My host family recommends I avoid bathing immediately after exercising or directly before bed, because masuk angin. I find it humorous to this day to hear “entering wind” as the reason to wear a jacket in 100-degree weather, avoid bathing, or refrain from using a fan to keep comfortable. Is masuk angin really a thing? I am still trying to figure that out. What time of the day is it?We learned in Bahasa Indonesia classes during Pre-Service Training that selamat pagi (“good morning”) is used from 5 to 10am, selamat siang (“good day”) from 10am to 3pm, selamat sore (“good afternoon”) from 3 to 7pm, and selamat malam (“good evening”) from 7pm until 5am the following morning. I quickly learned that those times are more subtle suggestions rather than strict rules. To this day, I still struggle to determine the appropriate time to switch from one to the next. Subuh, the day’s first call to prayer, takes place around 4:15am in my village. By the time I bike to school at 6:45am, many of my neighbors have been awake for three or more hours. It can be frustrating to hear people say “good day!” when I woke up thirty minutes earlier. Let me catch up! As for the afternoon, I have heard “good afternoon!” used from 1 to 6pm, and “good evening!” from 3 to 10pm. I basically flip a coin to determine how to address friends and family anytime after lunch. Ibu or goat?I rode my bike many times every day during service. I used the bike to get to and from school, the gym, market, convenience store, beach, etc. My village was located just far enough from Bandung, the nearest town, to provide a rural, somewhat tranquil feel (for Java, anyways); but it was close enough for me to bike to an ATM or clothing store if necessary. I zipped through several villages to reach the town center from my house. Locals were usually out front on their porches weaving bamboo baskets, drying laundry, or watching the traffic pass by. My favorite word I learned in Indonesia is monggo, (pronounced the same as we would in English) which is a Javanese that most closely translates to “as you were.” Indonesians use the word to politely acknowledge one another in passing. I sit on the front porch with my host family and listen for people on their motorcycles to drive by the house and yell, “Monggo!” When I am cruising along on my bike, however, I am the one shouting “Monggo! Monggo!” to the men, women, and children who are outside in front of their houses. The typical response to the salutation is “nggih” (pronounced “gayyyy”). This is the Javanese word to politely respond to the passerby who politely acknowledged the observer in the first place. I shout, “Monggo!” to as many people as possible when biking through the villages. I estimate that eight out of ten people respond with, “Nggih! Nggih!” The other two people likely stare at me in disbelief or smile back. People don’t need to hear “Monggo!” to respond with “Nggih!” A head nod, hand wave, any vocalized sound, or smile can solicit a “nggih” from anyone, from a four-year-old girl to a ninety-four-year-old man (who might actually only be sixty-four). The nggih can be solicited so easy, in fact, that many times the villagers will shout it out after merely seeing me whiz towards them on the bike. Sometimes I am in the zone and don’t see people alongside the road to address with “monggo”. I hear a “nggih,” which triggers me to shout back, “Nggih, monggo Bu!” I twist my head around to acknowledge the person who I had missed. Often times I can’t locate the source of the nggih. It is tricky to explain the uncanny similarity between the sound an Ibu makes when yelling “Nggih!” (imagine gayyyyyyyy with glottal vibrato on the “yyyyyyy”) and the goats yelling behind the same house. I remember turning my head to shout “Nggih, monggo!” several times, just to realize it was a group of goats making a racket. After realizing an old lady’s greeting and a goat’s plea for more food were nearly identical, my goal to distinguish them from one another remains elusive. I continue to address goats as elderly women; and even worse, I have mistaken old ladies as goats. Rubber timeOf all the aspects of Indonesian culture I needed to adapt and learn, jam karet, or rubber time, is something I cannot wrap my head around. Rubber time is exactly how it sounds: a meeting is scheduled for 8am but the first person doesn’t show up until 8:45am; the actual meeting doesn’t begin until after 9am. I spent countless hours of my service in hot classrooms and assembly halls waiting for meetings, ceremonies, and other programs to begin. Punctuality is rare. Class time or free time?I often walk past classrooms to see the students sitting cross-legged on the floor, lying on their desks, and playing with their cell phones. There are full days when I don’t see a single teacher enter a particular classroom. It makes me wonder how much time is spent with actual teaching, and how much is left for the students to entertain themselves. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that students spend more time during three years without a teacher in the classroom than with one there. Empty classrooms are common throughout elementary schools, middle schools, and high schools. It is a sad but unfortunate reality here in Indonesia. "How old are you?"Peace Corps does not allow Volunteers to ride motorcycles during service. This is a contentious issue, as Volunteers in countries around the world believe the rule hinders many people's ability to integrate within their families and communities. The Peace Corps Indonesia post is no exception. My host family owns six motorcycles and zero cars, so I see the argument. I frequently pass young kids driving motorcycles while biking around my community. I ask, “How old are you?” They often snicker at my question and drive off. Some of these kids have to be eight years old (maybe younger). I don’t know what age is commonly believed to be “too young” to drive a motorcycle here in Indonesia. I don’t really want to know. Cake or toast?In addition to cooking the main meals, Ibu usually has plastic containers of snacks throughout the house. I usually join the family out on the front porch after eating dinner. We talk about our day and enjoy the breeze while the food digests. Ibu will retrieve one of the bins for a post-meal snack. She tells me the tin has roti, which is translated as “bread”. But I rarely, if ever, find bread in the bin. Indonesians tend to use the word roti for cookies, cake, crackers, and actual bread. There are words for each of those foods, but it is common for people to use roti as a blanket word. When someone offers me roti, I’m never sure what I will get. Bowel movementsI had rough days in Indonesia when a nice number two kept me hanging on to what was left of my sanity. Likewise, I had rough days in Indonesia where a blowout made it even worse. I never truly valued predictable and consistent defecation until Peace Corps. Unfortunately, there was very little consistency in this department throughout the entirety of my service. My erratic trips to the squatty potty resulted in a wide array of consistencies and almost all colors of the rainbow. I went through weeks at a time without a solid poop. It wasn’t fun. I originally imagined my body would adjust, but the bowel movements never found their rhythm. It is difficult to underscore how much I look forward to routine dumping back in the States. Shout-Outs:
SO to the Bucks for continuing to push through the playoffs. SO to my brother for completing his fourth year of college. You’re almost done! SO to the Volunteers who wrapped up service this week. Congratulations! HSO to the English Club students for working so hard. The committee elections were a nice step forward for sustainability! ASO to the horrible sleeping schedule incurred after fasting during the first two weeks of Ramadan.
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