First Week at Permanent Site (Musings on life in Indonesia)!

I’m back. I’m sorry for being gone so long and for how long this post is! Hang in there. This is the first of many installments talking about my first month at site! Please keep in mind that these are impressions and analysis I have formed over a four-month period and are from the perspective of an outsider who has an incomplete knowledge of the culture. I have also built these conclusions based off my observations of one small part of Indonesia and in no way represent Indonesians or Indonesian culture on the whole. Different parts of Indonesia have different cultures and customs; different volunteers have different experiences. Please read this post with that information in mind.

I have now been in my permanent site for a month. I’ve been adjusting pretty well. I feel like my integration into my family and host community is going really well. In terms of adjusting to the school, things there have been a bit more difficult. School culture is very different here than it is in the US. I assumed and was told that we would get to site maybe have a week of classes and then be on a 2 month break. I was really looking forward to having some “me” time to integrate, adjust, and work on things I’ve had to put off during hectic PST. In PST we had 10 hours of instruction 6 days a week and I would normally spend my time off hanging out and exploring with other volunteers. I was incredibly busy and I enjoyed being so but I was looking forward to slowing down when I got to site. I soon learned that for me there would be very little time off.

My siblings (minus the smallest one who is a niece) Kak Lilik, Adik Fahrul, and Adik Nafisah

I was picked up from Batu by my principle Ibu Is around 10am on Friday June 5. What would normally be a 5-hour drive to Lumajang turned into a 10-hour drive because we would stop for food, to visit people, or to shop every 1-2 hours. Reached my house around 8pm, right after we stopped to eat dinner 10 minutes away. Upon entering the house I was immediately offered dinner again and it took a lot of convincing that I had just eaten and wasn’t interested in eating again.

Me and the formidable Ibu Is during site visit with the huge bananas Lumajang is famous for.

This is an aspect of Indonesian culture that has been hard to get used to. Hospitality is very important and hospitality involves making sure your guest is NEVER, even remotely, hungry. When you go visit someone you sit in their front room and are offered snacks and drinks. At home I am encouraged to eat more nasi (rice) or to go for seconds. Encouraged is not a strong enough word for how adamant they are that I eat. I never eat enough nasi for them to be satisfied that I really could be full. They’ve even resorted to occasionally pre-filling my bowl with rice to ensure I have enough. I eat breakfast at home, then at school at around 8 or 10 or both there’s usually a meal of some sort (if I don’t eat it and insist that I am still full from breakfast they insist I take some home for later), I then go home and am promptly served lunch, after which I am encouraged (the food is literally forced into my hand) to eat snacks and sweets until dinner (around 5), and then am encouraged again to snack until I go to sleep. It is constant and unfathomable to Indonesians that I wouldn’t be hungry at every moment of the day, even though many of them do not eat breakfast (the 8-10 o’clock meal at school is their breakfast). Also I have to say, before Ramadan, I never saw a member of my family, besides my 12-year-old brother, have a meal. They can’t relate their experience of not being hungry to my experience of not being hungry.

Heres me with my bapak and Ibu and lil bro

Anyway the next day, Saturday, I went to school for the first time as a volunteer. Like most days here at school it was terribly boring. There is nothing for me to do yet and the teachers were still busy with exams or hanging out in the teachers’ lounge so I struggled with boredom and the frustration of feeling like I’m wasting my time. I just wanted to be at home doing productive things that I’ve wanted to do for a while. I felt like if there is nothing for me to do at school why would I have to come? Before I left Batu, we had a Principle and Counterparts Conference during which I discussed the next 3 month schedule with my principle and found she wanted me at school every day (except Sunday) for the next three months, despite the fact that for two of those months no students would be at school and I’d have nothing to do. I was pretty frustrated and disappointed because I was hoping for some time off.

Some teachers from the school and I doing a group selfie!

I was also informed that first day that they wanted me to dance a solo traditional dance for graduation, which was in 4 days. I said yes because they were so insistent and I’m trying to integrate and be agreeable. After school I was to have my first practice and I was feeling uncomfortable because, of course, all the teachers wanted to watch me and see if I could dance or not. The dance teacher showed up, as well as some students who were also performing, and started playing music. The students started to dance and Ibu Is said, “Ok go ahead and start dancing.” I staunchly refused and insisted I wouldn’t dance until I was taught the dance. I wasn’t about to make a fool of myself for the teachers’ amusement. I was getting really upset at the whole situation. Here I was in a new community where I didn’t know the language well enough to understand people or make myself understood, didn’t have any friends, I was adjusting to a new home life and work life, and they want to watch me dance a dance I’ve never learned in front of all my future coworkers and students on my first day at site. I felt like a circus monkey there for their amusement and totally overwhelmed by the situation. I stood my ground though and refused to dance until the teacher taught me how to do the dance. After the students had practiced she started teaching me and luckily by that time some of the teachers had dispersed and gone home so there was less of an audience.

Me practicing my dance

I had the next day, Sunday, off so Ibu Is wanted me to sleep over at her house and go swimming the next day. The pool we went to was a nice natural, outdoor pool. It was large and the water was cool and clear with no chemicals in it. It took me awhile to get in but when I did it as really refreshing. I eve borrowed some goggles and swam around looking at the fish! After the pool I was returned home (not before I did another dance practice and was fed).

Looking sexy in my bathing suit!

That afternoon my family helped me set up my room. They are incredible. Every single-family member, from my adik (little sibling) Fahrul to my nenek (grandma), pitched in to help me make my room feel like home. My Bapak nailed my tapestry into the wall. My ibu figured out a good system to get my mosquito net up in such a way that I could move it during the day when it wasn’t in use. Everyone pitched in getting the net set up. They gave me baskets to help organize my things. My adik Nafisah folded all my clothes so they would fit in my closet. It was wonderful. I feel so grateful to have a family that would spend four hours helping out a stranger that came into their home, spending their only free day in the week to help me feel comfortable. And since then they have expressed this kindness to me over and over again.

My wonderful family helping me set up the mosquito net! We got (from farthest to nearest) Bapak, Adik Nafisah, Nenek, and Ibu!

The next week was mostly filled with going to school and hanging out in the teachers’ lounge and going home and integrating or reading. On Monday I got to go to my first teacher’s meeting. I had witnessed one during site visit but this one turned out a little differently. Let me fist say that my principle Ibu Is loves to talk. At first I thought maybe all Indonesians are like this. I have noticed over my first few months that whenever I see an Indonesian with a microphone (teacher’s meetings are held with the principle speaking into a microphone) they undoubtedly talk for hours without saying anything seemingly useful. They just like to hear themselves talk and will ramble on for as long as they possibly can rehashing the same subjects over and over. Well Ibu Is is much the same but to my surprise the other teachers also think she talks too much, or at least an abnormal amount. They tend to pull out their laptops during the meetings and do their own thing while she talks. Every so often they’ll respond to her prompts. Ibu Is does this thing while she speaks where she’ll say a word and then pause and expect everyone to say the next word she’s looking for. Its normally one she has said over and over again. For example, when she’s talking about me she’ll say “Nicole from WASHINTON—“ and everyone responds with “DC”, and shell repeat “right! WASHINGTON—“ “DC”. So I followed everyone’s lead during the meeting and broke out my kindle. I started to notice about an hour or two into the monologue that she was talking about me.

On the other side of the river is my desa! I cross one of those little bridges to get there

This is actually not uncommon for Indonesians. I’ll notice that whenever there is someone new around me and people who know me the people who know me will take the time to describe to the new person everything they know about me.

This will happen during speeches, when people visit my family at home, or even when acquaintances are with people who are just meeting me for the first time. They will talk about where I am from, that I don’t eat much nasi (rice), that I like my tea tanpa gula (without sugar), and any other anecdote or fact that they may have about me. I especially find it amusing with my family or with acquaintances. My family will sit there and tell the stranger all the embarrassing stories or odd things I have said or done since I got to site. They also explain what they have learned about America from me, like that we do, in fact, eat rice (most people here think bread is the staple food in the US). Its kind of comforting that parents are the same all over the world in that they like to make their children uncomfortable. Luckily I don’t mind, it’s endearing and it saves me the trouble of explaining why I do what I do. The reasons they give for my odd behavior are always unadulterated straight from myself. Its also charming that they take pride in being able to show others how much they know about me.

View of the rice paddies from my back yard

With acquaintances it’s just as delightful. I could have spent 5 minutes chatting with a person, going over the basics: where I am from, what I’m doing here, how long I’m here for, the fact that I do like nasi, the fact that we do eat nasi in the United States, how many siblings I have and what my birth order is, etc (this is exactly how all my conversations go with the addition of my appearance, which I will discuss later). If a new person comes along and starts asking these questions they will be immediately answered by the person who just finished asking the same questions as if she were the upmost authority on everything about me.

Ibu Is was doing the same thing: telling all the teachers everything I have said and done in the past three days. According to a teacher here Lisa, Ibu Is also extolled my virtues such as punctuality, commitment, dedication, etc as an example of how all the teachers could improve. Everyone thoroughly enjoyed these anecdotes and didn’t hesitate to laugh and add their own from their interactions with me. I was the subject of discussion for 30-45 minutes. In the US it would be rude, to talk about someone, either in front of her, or behind her back and laugh (with me I hope), but here this is completely normal and not seen as rude at all. Most of the time I pretended I didn’t understand or actually didn’t understand and just kept reading my book. I found it amusing and wasn’t offended. I understand that I am different from what they are used to both in looks and actions and they are just trying to understand. Its part of the cultural exchange.

Little boy playing in the rain at site visit. Thats the mosholla next to my house

Bands of roving makes boys ah!

For the next few days I went to school, sat in the teacher’s lounge doing mostly nothing, going to dance practice, and then going home and meeting people around the neighborhood. As I mentioned before almost all my encounters with someone new goes as follows: where do you come from? How old are you? Are you married? How many siblings do you have? What number are you? Where do you live? How long will you be here? Etc. The conversation then moves to my looks.

Without a doubt they will point at my skin and say putih (white) and cantik (beautiful) then point to their skin and say hitam (black). They will say how they wish they were whiter and how am I white and therefore beautiful. They will lament that they or their children could be as white and beautiful as me (they will of course do this in front of their children, occasionally dragging them over to point out how “black” they are and how unfortunate it is (I’ve also heard from other volunteers that pregnant women will ask white volunteers to rub their bellies in the hope it will make the baby whiter)). They will do the same thing with their noses saying mine is sharp and beautiful and theirs is flat. I even have a teacher at my school whose sole interaction with me consists of her squishing her noise against her face and saying flat then pointing to my nose and saying beautiful.

It’s always hard for me to know how to react to this kind of attention because it makes me uncomfortable (In the United States its not common to discuss an acquaintances’s looks with them there) and upset. From an early age children here are being told that they do not meet the ideal standard of beauty and there’s nothing they can do about it. In Indonesian culture in general people talk about appearance in a way that would be considered rude in the States. They will talk about how fat certain people are and joke about them eating too much, how skinny, short, big nosed etc. But for me the talk about skin color and facial structure is particularly upsetting because is can’t be change and is a beauty standard that a small minority of people can meet (usually people in Jakarta or people of mixed heritage). To constantly hear that such a large percentage of the population is unhappy with their appearance is disheartening. I know I am lucky to be part of the idealized group. I recognize my privilege and the fact that non-white volunteers do not get this treatment. I don’t think they tend to receive very many negative reactions to their skin color besides being told to cover up so as not to get darker. If anything their struggle is more convincing people that they are United States citizens and not from Papua, China, Indonesia, India, etc.

There’s also another level to these beauty standards which is upsetting to me and that is that white/western beauty standards have influenced the beauty standards of this country and many countries like it around the world. Skin bleaching products and nose-straightening devices are heavily advertized on TV, the Internet, magazines, billboards, everywhere. Indonesians are constantly being told that they need to be whiter. When I asked people why they want whiter skin they say that its because its beautiful and/or clean. Certainly people who work in the fields would be darker and perhaps that leads to the view of dark being dirty or associated with the working class. Perhaps, as Indonesia modernizes and grows stronger economically, less people are finically obliged to farm so having lighter skin has become a status symbol. I can’t help but think that a larger part of what drives this beauty standard is the residual influence of Dutch colonization and modern western influence. Especially when it comes to the desire for a sharper nose. It was suggested to me by another volunteer that perhaps the desire for whiter skin comes from Japanese and East Asian culture. During most formal events, such as graduations, weddings, or dance recitals the women and girls will have heavy makeup applied to make them look whiter. It’s caked on and, from a person who never wears make-up and appreciates a subtler and natural beauty-enhancing style when it is applied, it can seem unflattering and unnatural. If this tradition is a relatively old one, I can believe that maybe it is the influence of interactions with East Asia, but if it were modern I would attribute it to Western influence. For further info check out the article Cosmopolitan Whiteness (just put the title in Google). Unfortunately, as of this writing, I haven’t been able to read it but it deals with the cultural norm of skin whitening in Indonesia.

Little niece before her graduation, also plastered with skin lightening makeup

Girls from the graduation and I, plastered with makeup

In order to try and combat this viewpoint I’ve started to ask them questions that encourage self-love and critical thinking (one of the things were tasked to do within a school culture where the teacher is always right and never questioned). When they tell me white skin is beautiful I ask them why they think so? What has given them that impression? What’s wrong with darker skin? Etc. Most of the time the answers are just because white skin is beautiful and black skin isn’t. Hopefully, it will encourage further discussion in the future. Occasionally I’ll say that it makes me sad to hear them say such things because it means that they do not love themselves. They are beautiful and its something that they can’t change so why live your whole life unhappy? Sometimes I’ll tell them that I wasn’t always happy with my looks but learned to love myself anyway. That who you are is more important that how you look (something hard to grasp in a culture where surface appearance is so important). I don’t prefer these discussions because I’d rather encourage them to come to that conclusion on their own. Growth and self-love comes from within not from someone telling you that you should do it. On a few occasions, when I’m fed up and too tired to have a long discussion about self love while encouraging critical thinking, I’ll cop out. I’m not proud of it but this usually involves me using their religion against them. “I’ll ask them who made them?” “God” and “Does God make mistakes?” “No” and that ends the discussion.

On Wednesday of the first week was graduation. I had my performance and I practiced it all morning. I was getting nervous because I was not able to get through the full four minutes without one mistake. When the time finally came though I executed that dance perfectly! Well as perfectly as you can after just four days rehearsal. I was relieved I was finally done, I had done what they asked, performed so they could show off their bule (foreigner), and could now relax for the rest of the day. Well as soon as I got off stage I was asked if I could give a speech to all the students and their parents! Are they never satisfied?! After a lengthy speech from Bu Is and the police chief it was my turn. I gave a quick two-minute talk introducing, myself in English and Bahasa Indonesia and wishing the graduating class luck. Then I was finally done. I spent the afternoon at Ibu Eni’s house, the Javanese teacher.

All ready for the dance

Me and some other dancers

The dancers

After graduation I still had to go to school and to my surprise found that the students still had to go too! I couldn’t understand why the students would have to come if there are no classes or they already graduated. It turns out the Indonesian government requires kids to be in school until the 13th, whether they have school or not. I also wondered how the kids were held accountable. Did it affect their grades? There weren’t any teachers watching them so how does anyone know they even showed up. Apparently attendance is taken at the end of the day. The students were there for “class meeting” basically getting together to play sports based on their class.

My speech, didn’t even have time to change

In the Indonesian school system students are assigned to a certain class for the semester. All the students in that class get a room and that’s where the stay for the whole semester. The teachers come and go to the room to teach their subject then return to the teacher’s lounge. If a teacher doesn’t show up, which can be fairly often, the kids are left unsupervised to do as they please in their room. Normally disrupting other classes. Before graduation I had the opportunity to help proctor an exam. Me and another teacher were in the class and were watching the students. Cheating is a big thing here and not always seen as a problem. Normally classrooms are set up with two students to a table and those tables in three rows. So for this exam each student at a table had a different exam. The room was by no means quiet (it wasn’t loud either) and there was a good bit of movement by kids looking around or talking to their friends about the answers.

The teacher proctoring with me didn’t seem to notice or care. He got a phone call and left the room for the last portion of the test. Shortly after he left the students got louder and were cheating more openly. I knew I had to get control of the classroom and let them know that I wasn’t a pushover. So I started walking around and when I saw a student talking to a friend I’d stop and stare at them until they noticed. Sometimes I would ask them if they had a question or a problem they needed my help with? Every once in a while if they continued to do it (almost all of them did) I would ask if they were finished. I would stand at the back and whenever a student would turn around I would give them a look. The students found it amusing but they did do it less.

Sis, bro and cousin Ruro (far right)

I don’t personally have a huge problem with the cheating. From what I learned during PST Indonesian tests can be unfair in that they are confusing, the right answer isn’t always clear, and sometimes they go over uncovered material. I don’t blame the students for taking matters into their own hands. If the test is unfair you can’t expect them to honor the test. What bothered me was how blatant they were being about it. I cheated on tests in school sometimes but I did it with finesse and skill. If you’re going to cheat at least be respectful enough to not make it obvious.

Anyway, the students were at school because they had to be so I decided to go around and spend time with them. I spent the next few days just hanging out. Letting them practice their English with me. It was really nice and made me feel better about being at school (I was really frustrated with the teachers and the whole system). For middle schoolers they speak pretty good English. I was surprised by how much some of them could speak. We were told in PST to expect the students to know next to nothing. No grammar, little vocab, little comprehension and speaking ability, even for high schoolers. So I am very happy to report they have greatly exceeded my expectations.

One thing I enjoy about Indonesian culture (and its present in other cultures too (especially those where there is little intersex interaction)) is how intimate people of the same sex are. The boys have no problem holding hands, massaging each other, touching and messaging each others thighs, or sitting on each others laps (same goes for girls). Even adult men will behave this way. I had the pleasure of watching my Bapak (dad) get messaged by a male neighbor the other night. No one thought it was unusual. In the United States we used to behave the same way, with the same closeness and intimacy. At some point though, the fear of being wrongly mislabeled homosexual (god forbid!), made our men change their behavior. My first day at school one of the young female teachers messaged my thigh and the rest of my body too. Its how they show affection and I enjoy witnessing it and being apart of it.

The boys being all physical and cute

My bapak getting a message from his friend

I was surprised that male and female interaction is a lot more frequent than I was originally expecting. The male and female students are friends, the talk and laugh and hit each other (a very common practice and a sign of affection (I got hit by my parents in Batu, my nenek slapped my leg a few times because she was so pleased to hear me speak Madurese, hits=love). There are even some who are dating and I was surprised to see them hold hands and (innocently) place their hands on each other’s thighs or shoulders.

Given the predominance of Islam here I was expecting a more conservative culture. We were told that intersex touching was rare and that people dress more conservatively (think: arms covered to the wrist, legs covered to the ankles, no collar bones, and a hijab). Well this has not been the case in Batu or Lumajang. In Batu my ibu never covered her head unless she was going to an extremely important event (sometimes not even to those). When I first met her she was wearing a sleeveless dress that went to her knees. Around my village in Batu it was very common to see women without a jilbab, with dresses with short sleeves, and that go down past their knees. Even the men weren’t as conservative as I was expecting. Id visit peoples houses for the first time and the man would take off his shirt, or go shower with just a towel.

Ibu ibu

Here in Lumajang they are a little more conservative/religious (My bapak in Batu rarely prayed and drank alcohol on numerous occasions with his friends). My principle always dresses conservatively but she invited me back to her hotel room the second time we met, I went to the bathroom and came out to find her in her underwear. Of course I am the same sex as she is but for me it’s hard to reconcile completely covering your body in public to complete lack of self-consciousness in private.

Around my desa women sometimes where a jilbab, sometimes they don’t. My ibu almost always wears one outside of the house, her sister never does. The young women only wear them to the mosque or when they leave the desa (village). My Nenek (grandma) will walk around in a bra, or a lace kabaya over a bra, a sarong, and a bandana to cove her hair. It really is up to the individual it seems and there is no judgment (at least from what I’ve seen) on how people decide to dress. In the house my ibu and sister will walk around with just a towel or just a bra and bottom when they go to the shower. Almost all the men and boys in my desa wear sarongs, which I love as it preserves Indonesian culture. Here I see fewer men shirtless than I do in Batu, unless they’re bathing. Even women bathing around the desa or in the stream will wear little clothing and they’re out in public. I find the contractions of modesty and nakedness very fascinating and I certainly do not know why they exist except to say that it seems to be a choice that no one bats an eye at.

Nenek being her fine self! So much skin!

Gender roles are fluid more fluid than I imagined as well. Men and women interact and are friends. My ibu is a housewife, but my bapak still helps to cook, clean, and take care of the kids. I will often see men caring babies in slings around the village. My ibu is also a very active member of the community and runs a small store. She organizes community activities and has a logbook she uses to keep track of community participation on statistics which my bapak actively encourages and assists with. She will actively encourage my adik Nafisah to participate in record keeping as well. The fields are worked by men and women in equal numbers (maybe even more women). It is really wonderful to see that there isn’t a large division here. Men and women interact and are friends, and that they seem to have equal status in society.

Bapak and Ibu doing household chores together

The only real differences are that when it comes to events where there are large groups who pray (funeral). In these events men pray and women make the food. There’s also a difference when it comes to freedom of movement. Young women are not supposed to go out after nightfall, or if they do they should not be alone. Women primarily work on household chores, men primarily work outside the home, but it seems they still try to help their wives as much as possible.

My bapak making sambil (kind of like salsa (red chili sauce in asian restaurants isn))

A few last things that happened in my first week: I bought a bike. It’s been great for giving me the freedom to go around. From my house to Lumajang town square (alun alun) is about a 30-minute bike ride! I also went to an elementary school graduation in which my little niece danced. It was adorable seeing such small children dance. Some were actually really good and quite coordinated. It’s also interesting because Indonesians have a very specific style of speech for important events. With out a doubt they always use the same intonations when MCing. Even the small children were instructed to make announcements in this same way.

Little cuties dancing on stage

The graduation also brought to light a small problem that I hope will not resurface. My principle told my family that I wasn’t allowed to attend the event. As I mentioned before my principle is a formidable woman and a lot of people are intimidated by her. I tired to convince my parents that my principle is wrong and doesn’t have any right to decide where I can and can’t go. Even so whenever I tell them I’m going to do something they respond with “well that’s fine as long as Ibu Is says so”. It’s pretty infuriating because it will happen with the teachers at my school as well. They want to hang out and invite me over but they’re afraid if something happens they’ll get in trouble with Ibu Is. In reality she has no power over my whereabouts except if I am going to do an event at another school. Even then she doesn’t really have power but it’s polite to ask her permission first.

Ok sorry this was so long. This is more or less an account of my first week along with observations I’ve made over the last few months. I hope you enjoyed it. Ill try to finish catching you up on my doings and observations next week! Let me know if theres anything in particular you would like to know more about be it culture or my every day life! Love you all!