The first time I’ve seen houses built over water was when I first arrived to Jayapura, Papua.  I was immediately fascinated by life on a small island.  It was a dream of mine to live in a house that had ocean as a front yard.  On June 12, I travelled to Biak, the island North-West of my city Jayapura.  My host mom is from Biak and she has many relatives that live there, some of which I already met.  Just my host mom, host brother and I made the trip. 

An enchanting house in Sentani, Jayapura

Biak is a beautiful island; I would say more beautiful than Bali.  We took a car and drove around most of it in the week I was there.  I stayed in the city two nights and then we went to stay with other relatives in the village.  After a three hour car drive to Southern Biak, we took a speed boat and it started getting dark. We made it to a channel between two islands and then the boat got stuck multiple times and they had to use a long stick to move us along slowly.  I was getting nervous, but everyone else seemed calm.  Finally we made it through the channel and I saw lights in the distance.  It was a whole community on an island far from the mainland! 

My host uncle and I overlooking his village Soek, Biak

I loved living in a house above the ocean.  Everyone told me Biak is hotter than Jayapura, but there was a constant breeze so it felt cooler than my oven of a home in Jayapura.  My host uncle was very excited to show me around.  We went to Rani island and I drank young coconut and watched a baby pig run away from its mother squealing with a coconut in its mouth.  Everywhere we went I was introduced to more uncles and aunts I didn’t know about.  I am always confused about how people are related because there’s no way one person can have this many blood relatives.

 Landing on Rani Island

In this village (Soek) my aunt and uncle receive visitors every hour of the day without invitation.  They receive boxes of fish/seafood without ordering it.  This is the kind of community I was expecting in Papua, but I didn’t see it much in the city. In Jayapura, my host family doesn’t often receive visitors and we rarely visit neighbours.  Building relationships with my community wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be.

                                They walk these narrow planks so quickly and I shake with fear (Soek, Biak)

During the trip to Biak I had so many questions about culture, but when I sat with the youth and asked, they were very shy to answer.  The same thing happened to me when I was visiting the highlands.  People are quick to agree with me and say yes to every question I have, and I’m left to wonder if they’re even listening to me.  I realized once again that most locals aren’t going to openly disclose information to a foreigner.  Trusting relationships need to be built before open dialogue can happen.  I have some of these relationships in Jayapura, but they are still new friendships.  This year a lot of my questions have gone unanswered and maybe I don’t deserve to know the answer because I’m just a foreigner.  I thought I’d have coherent knowledge about Papuan culture by the end of my year, but the longer I stay here the more questions I have.  I can’t go back to Canada and proudly display all that I learned and my brilliant insight on it.  Instead, I’m coming home with pieces of stories and subjective experience.  I’m thankful for the exciting, mundane, beautiful, uncomfortable time in Indonesia.

Another island close to Soek

Important Update: I already said my goodbyes in Papua and I'm in Java with the other MCCers.  On July 10th I'll travel back to Akron, Pennsylvania for a re-entry MCC retreat.  On July 16th I'll be back in Canada! 

Kakak Yana

I was gifted with a new name in Papua, Kakak Yana.  Kakak is the title you give to anyone older than you that is not married yet, so all of my younger friends and younger host siblings call me Kakak.  But here’s where it gets complicated, since I’m the oldest child in my home, my host parents, host aunts, and host uncles call me Kakak.  This is funny to me because in language school I learned that if you call someone Kakak that means they’re your older sibling.  So it’s like my host mom is calling me her older sister.  Secondly, many people call me Yana because Janna is not a common name.

In Indonesia, I quickly learned not to call people by their first name unless they are younger than me.    When I first arrived to Papua in October, my 2 year-old host brother called me Janna several times and my host parents always corrected him saying he must call me Kakak Yana.  It is disrespectful to call someone older than you only by their first name.  There are many ways I can refer to someone younger than me.  I can call them by their name, you (kamu) or younger sibling (adik).

When I first met my host mom I thought it would be most polite to call her the formal word for you (anda). So the first day I called her anda and she told me to call her Mama.  I felt really awkward about calling her Mama, because that’s a word only babies say.  I learned quickly that I cannot call older people “you” but have to refer to them by the appropriate title.  This means frequently talking in third person for example I can ask Mama, “Mama mau ke mana?” “Where is Mama going?” Then Mama might reply in third person saying “Mama mau ke kantor” “Mama is going to the office.”  When I talk to older people they often do not refer to themselves as I, me, mine, but say their title such as Mama. 

Once I asked my aunt what her name was and she gave me a confused look.  She replied that she was Agape’s (my 2 year-old host brother’s) aunt.  I already knew that, but I wanted to call her something more personal than just Aunt (tante).  I don’t know any of my host aunts/uncles names.  My one aunt is called Ibu Alen because Ibu means mother and Alen is her oldest child.  Likewise, her husband is called Bapak Alen because Bapak means father.

Before I left for Indonesia I had the general knowledge that Asian cultures respect elders, but I had little idea of what that meant.  Now I respect those that are older than me every day just by using the Indonesian language.  When I meet new people, I have to immediately figure out if they are older than me or if they’re married, because without this information, I have no idea how to talk to them.  Once I called a 15 year-old Kakak because I thought she was older and everyone laughed.  Once I called an unmarried man Bapak because I thought he was already married, but he wasn’t.  These titles are sometimes tricky for me because in Canada I don’t have to make quick judgements about person’s age/marital status, but can just refer to them as ‘you’. 

I like explaining to Papuans that in Canada, my younger sister, cousins and friends call me Janna, there is no word for Kakak.  Once I told my host mom and host sister that I call my Aunts and Uncles by their first name, my host sister laughed nervously while my host mom said, in Papua we respect those that are older.  I tried to explain that respecting elders looks differently in Canada, but then I pondered, what does it mean to respect elders? How does respecting elders affect relationships?  Do people that are older get away with being dominant and controlling?  Do younger people feel meek and compliant?  How does this affect honesty? I can’t answer any of these questions; I can only say what Papuan culture feels like to me as a Canadian. 

From my perspective, when I call people ‘you’ and I don’t use a title, I feel like we are on equal grounds.  But when I call people Bapak, Ibu, Mama or Kakak, I am aware that they have a higher status than me and I’m less likely to challenge them.  What I’ve noticed in Indonesia is that children don’t challenge/question older people as often as children in Canada.  During my host family meetings 95% of the time my host parents talk about their children’s misbehaviour and my host siblings never interrupt, make excuses or retaliate.  After an hour or more of talking, my host parents ask them if they want to say anything and usually my host siblings say very little.  This is very different than my family meetings in Canada, because if my siblings or I are accused of something we usually argue about it or negotiate a solution.  Respecting elders in this context means not challenging them verbally, but later my siblings might disobey with their behaviour and the family meeting happens all over again. In some ways I feel like this style of communication inhibits younger people from sharing their perspective and being honest. 

When I get back to Canada I want to analyze how we respect elders.  I also want to talk to older generations and ask what makes them feel respected by the younger generation and if they are receiving that respect.  For now, I have many observations from Indonesia and Canada which generate questions with very few answers. 

My extended host family and I eating lunch on the beach 

Floating around with my host family

My host parents (Mama and Bapak) and I after a 3 hour outdoor church service.  I recently got this dress sewn for me, the material was given to me by Mama for Christmas. It is traditional Papuan print.

I like going on walks, but when I arrived in Indonesia I found things limiting me from exploring by foot.  First of all it is a bad idea to exercise from the hours of 9 am to 3 pm because it's unbearably hot and humid.  Secondly as a foreigner in an area with few foreigners, I get a lot of unwanted attention.  People call out to me "Mister, mister" or just stare without trying to hide it. Thirdly, at first it seemed that my host family and friends never go on walks.  Even to places that are a 5 minute walk away (such as church) we take motorbikes.  Therefore, in my first few months I was clueless as to how I would continue my habit of walking. Finally after a month or so I got antsy and I convinced my host siblings to go on a walk with me. They reluctantly agreed and pulled themselves away from the TV.  Soon after that I found out that a few of the neighbour kids like to walk.  In the recent months, the highlight of my day is coming home at 4 pm and inviting my neighbours to go on a walk.  I also like to go on an afternoon walk with my host cousins or my 3 English students from P3W.

This picture is of last month when I went on a walk with my English students.  We started by going up this hill close to my house.

Then at the top of the hill, they suggested that if we walk down a rough trail then we can loop back to the main road.  I had never been to this part of the city so I was happy to explore.

Another day I went on a walk up a hill with friends from P3W.  It had a great view of the city.

I'm amazed by how Jayapura looks like a different city from each hill I've been on. On this hill the dirt is brown, but on the hill close to my house, the dirt is orange/redish.  From some hills you can see the ocean, but other hills overlook houses and forests.  Walking up hills and taking in the view is a spiritual practice for me.  Sometimes I obsess about my problems and lose perspective of my identity in God.  But when I'm on top of a hill I realize the silly things I've been obsessing about; I see the bustling city, the calm ocean and other hills.  I often feel like I'm not doing enough as a volunteer.  I'm not learning or contributing to women's empowerment in the way I imagined.  I constantly run into limits that restrain me from engaging with people and tasks that weren't barriers in Canada. But through these frustrations, I climb to the top of a hill and in that moment I accept that I am flawed and limited, but there is still purpose, joy and beauty in weakness.  I climb down the hill and return to the four pink walls of my room and the negative thoughts come back and my gracious attitude is gone.  So I have to climb up another hill to be reminded again.

I was sitting with a P3W leader and she offered me a hot drink.  I was about to answer “It’s ok, I don’t need anything.”  But I paused and reminded myself I’m in Indonesia, not Canada.  I answered “yes, I will take coffee.”  My impulse is to say no when I’m offered something because I don’t like taking from others.  I’ve realized this value may come from my culture.  When my mom offers our guests coffee, they answer something like “only if you’re already making a pot.”  To be a good guest is to make sure you’re not taking too much from your host. 

If I tried to practice Canadian manners in Indonesia, it would be rude (which I’ve probably done multiple times). Hosts are happy when guests eagerly accept all that they are offered.  Sometimes the host simply gives visitors a drink or food without asking.  I have never once heard a guest tell their host to only give them a drink/food if it’s already prepared.  On Christmas day neighbours and friends visit each other and everyone prepares snacks.  When some neighbours came over and didn’t eat the snacks, my host mom was insulted.  It is rude to refuse food when visiting someone’s home.  It is the greatest compliment to the host when a guest eats a lot at your house.  It communicates that the host is a good cook and the host feels that they have something valuable to offer.   When a guest refuses to eat, it communicates that what they prepared isn’t good enough for the guest.  Clearly, the paradigm of polite and rude behaviour is far different in Canada than Indonesia.

What are the root values that make the Canadian and the Indonesian way of hospitality so different?  The insightful Henri Nouwen writes that in Western culture we often think happiness comes from having (expensive goods/status/knowledge).  Maybe Canadians are sometimes hesitant to accept things from others because we believe people are happier when they save things/energy for themselves rather than giving.  I catch myself thinking this way.  When my friend offers me food I believe the polite thing to do is to say no because if I ate it, there would be less for her.  This is mine and that is yours; I’ll accept presents on my birthday, but otherwise I don’t want to take your stuff – your happiness – away from you. 

The more I refuse to accept your hospitality is the more earnestly I’m pushing you away (perhaps subconsciously) from my belongings, my time, and my private life.  I’m not just talking about tangible items; I’m also referring to the commodity of time.  How often at the end of a phone call have you said “Well, I’m sure you’re busy, I’ll let you get back to it.”  We bump into a friend on the street and only wave or say a quick greeting because we don’t want to bother them.  We’re at a friend’s house and say “It’s getting late, I should let you get to sleep.” When really what we mean is I want to sleep.  By signaling to people that we protect their valuable time, we are saying: my time is just as valuable and if you want to interrupt my busy life at least make an appointment.

Politely refusing to take other’s belongings/time/energy indicates how much Canadians value independence and privacy.  I can take care of myself; I don’t need anything from you and please don’t ask too much from me.  I am busy improving my work, my family, my property and no one can get in my way.  Of course this is saying it too harshly, but I’m embarrassed that it holds some truth to how I think.

My independent spirit has been greatly challenged in Indonesia.  After realizing that my manners are rude, I started doing things differently.  Now, I willingly accept food from people.  I stop to chat with people (in the office, on the street) without worrying that I’m wasting their time and my time.  I am less hesitant to ask for help, even from acquaintances and strangers.  I focus less on personal progress and instead live in the moment.  These changes are often uncomfortable and I sometimes worry that my life is stagnant.  I’m not increasing my academic knowledge; I’m not earning money; I’m not improving artistically; I’m simply living.

This year in Indonesia made me realize it’s not easy to re-learn the cultural values I’ve internalized such as independence, self-sufficiency, and progress. But the steps I’ve taken to receive graciously inspire me to be a more generous person.  People say the more you give the more you will receive.  But, I think the more profound truth is that the more you become a gracious receiver, the easier it is to give. 

  Why does giving even matter in a culture that is obsessed with having?  Being generous isn’t always comfortable and often feels like a loss of control.  But, there is something bigger lost when we avoid the vulnerability of giving and receiving.  Without this web of accepting gifts of time/help/hospitality and giving, we suffer from a sense of loneliness and isolation.  Henri Nouwen says happiness does not come from having, but from giving.  The best days I’ve had in Indonesia are the days that someone has shared something with me or when I’ve been able to give something to others.  I hope that when I return to Canada I will not allow the busyness of life to stop me from living out what I learned about hospitality and community in Indonesia.

                                                  My host brother and I relaxing at home

                                             My host mom is telling me to take more food

MCC sent me questions that they post on Facebook so I thought I would post them on my blog so that people without Facebook can see this update too.

1. What are you doing (How do you spend your days?)
I go to my volunteer placement Monday-Friday 9 am – 4 pm. It is an office for women’s empowerment/development in West Papua. I recently started teaching English and I am working on writing documents for publication. Then I go home and rest or try to find neighbour kids that will go on a walk with me. Then I hang out with my host family and often watch the dramatic Indian TV series they love. On the weekends I like to play futsal and do Zumba. Sometimes I do karaoke with friends, go out to eat, or go to the beach.

2. What is your favorite Indonesian food?
It’s either yellow rice or a certain yellow Papuan sweet potato called petatas. They are both yellow, does that say something about my personality? Mango juice is yellow too and I love that.

3.What is your favorite Indonesian word? Why?
The Papuan slang word “Iyo” which means yes. I like this word because the ‘o’ can carry on forever “Iyoooooooo”.

4. What is a funny, embarrassing, or memorable experience you've had so far?
I was having a bad day and I was feeling trapped in my house. My host sibling was watching TV and she didn’t really want to go on a walk, but I convinced her out of my desperation to get fresh air. We met up with cousins and took a walk up a hill. My cousin and I ran up half of the hill competing with each other. I’m pretty sure we all had a good time and the view from the top of the hill was amazing! I got to see the valley that my neighbourhood sits in. I feel like a nuisance when I push my host siblings to go on a walk with me, but it’s good for bonding and our health!

5. What is one important thing you've learned so far?
I’m learning to not take myself so seriously. Before coming to Indonesia I preferred to connect to people through intellectual conversation/ emotional sharing, but because of the language barrier I’m not able to do that here. So instead of acting all serious I create moments of silliness and then people feel more comfortable around me. It’s out of my comfort zone, but sometimes the stress/routines of life ask for us to laugh at the silliness of it all.

My February Travels

February was a busy, out of the ordinary month.  On February 3^rd I flew to Bali (an island in Indonesia) to meet the other MCC Indonesia staff for the annual retreat.  We had a good time worshiping together, learning, doing group activities, eating buffets and relaxing.  Our hotel was directly on the coast so we could walk down to the rocky beach multiple times a day.  It was rainy season in this part of Indonesia, but we didn’t let the rain stop us from swimming!  One day all of us snorkeled which was my first time.  The best thing about the retreat for me was connecting my experiences and struggles with my friends’ experience.  It was good to be reminded about MCC’s larger vision and how I play a small part in that.  The theme of the retreat was “Inside Out”, the journey of God transforming our mind, heart, and will to be more like Jesus.  We watched a video series and then discussed in groups.  It was just the encouragement and challenge that I needed after months of attending a church where the language is Indonesian and the denomination is unfamiliar.

(My YALT friends Valerie and Jyoti from the USA)

The retreat was 5 days and after that I travelled with my YALT (1 year MCC volunteer) friends as tourists around Bali for 4 days.  It was strange being a tourist after 6 months of living in Indonesia.  On the first day we went to see a beautiful rice field, a coffee plantation, a waterfall, and on our way to the monkey garden we decided to shop instead of paying the entrance fee.  We were desperately looking for souvenirs and at first we were shy to barter the price down, but my friend Sheria (from Uganda) was persuasive and got most things half price.  We studied her tactics and soon all of us were having fun talking to the sellers.  Most of them were impressed by our Indonesian language so they were more willing to give us a fair price.  People ask if Bali is beautiful and has great beaches, but (not that I’m biased) it wasn’t nearly as beautiful as Papua.

(Me in a Bali rice field)

After that, I was at my home in Jayapura for 1 week before flying to Singapore with the YALTers.  In Singapore we were immediately shocked by the tall buildings, the perfectly paved roads, the AC, and the fast subway.  We were only there for 2 days in order to renew our VISA.  

(The YALTers in Singapore)

From Singapore I flew to back to Indonesia with my friend Valarie and stayed at her assignment location for 4 days. I live on the island of Papua but most of the YALTers live on the island of Java.  Valarie is located in Jepara, Java.  The contrast between Java and Papua is remarkable.  There are more Christians than Muslims in Papua.  I liked hearing the mosque’s call to prayer 4 times a day in Java, because I don’t hear it often when I’m in Papua.  The Indonesian language is used differently on every island.  It was difficult to stop using the Papuan slang that has become part of my vocabulary.  There are many more differences, but some of them are far too complicated to mention in a blog update.

(Valarie, her host family and I in Jepara, Java)

I arrived home in Jayapura on March 2^nd and found out I had malaria.  Three days after taking medication at home, I got a blood test and it said the malaria is gone.  Thanks to all the people that have prayed for me.  I already started going back to the office this week and am regaining energy.  It was a quick recovery!

The Green Holidays

The Christmas songs, Santa Clause parades, fireworks and baking cakes have stopped, but I have yet to tell you about my experience of the holidays in Jayapura, Papua.  The anticipation of Christmas began with English Christmas songs playing in stores.  Starting at the end of November children and youth set off firecrackers and use this homemade tube-like contraption that sounds like a bomb.  At first these sounds were very confusing because it sounds like a war and it’s easy to be startled by a bang when driving a motor scooter.  However, the noise did not reach its height until New Years Eve, which I will tell you more about in a moment.

Leading up to Christmas churches and neighbourhoods have special services on weekdays.  I went to several Christmas services before the big day.  Then my church has a service on the 24^th, 25^th, 26^th, 31^st, 1^st not counting the regular Sunday service.  I can’t understand most of what is said at church, but I enjoyed how each person got a candle and we sang familiar Christmas songs in Indonesian. 

Starting in December and every day until Christmas there is a parade that goes around my city.  Santa Claus, several princesses, Winnie the Pooh and Sentrapids sit in the back of a truck leading about 20 festive motorcyclists honking their horns.  Sentrapids are Dutch fictional characters, people coated in black paint that accompany Santa Claus and scare children.  The parade was cool to see the first day, but then it annoyed me because it slows down traffic.  Then one day I was invited by my two host sisters to join it.  I figured it was time to join the festivities rather than criticizing their inefficiency.  We jumped on our motor scooters and patiently followed Santa Claus.  We stopped at various houses and Santa Claus gave children a gift while the Sentrapids chased the children.  This picture is of my little host brother receiving a gift and crying because his siblings terrify him with stories of the sentrapid.

The tradition I enjoyed the most about the holidays was that neighbours/friends/family visit each other.  Every household sets out jars of cookies, salty snacks and bottles of pop.  Some of my neighbours are Muslim and I don’t know many of them so I was really excited that they came over.  I baked M&M oatmeal cookies and they were a significant point of discussion – everyone called them the Canadian cookie.

(This is my street with my pink house on the far left)

On New Years Eve we went to church and after the service they handed out papers with liturgy so that each family separately can do another service in their homes later that night. So at 11 pm my family sat down and sang/read/prayed again.  The fun began when we met my extended family just before 12 am.  The neighbourhood was incredibly loud as every person in Jayapura was setting off fireworks!  I sat outside with my aunts admiring the fireworks, breathing in the smoke, and looking with concern at the children setting off firecrackers.

(My host family and I on Christmas Eve, but my 2 sisters missing)

When people ask me how my holidays were, I say interesting.  I was surprised by how the central activity of Christmas was attending church services day after day.  The chaos of explosions and smoke during New Years Eve was also a shock, but I was happy for a change from sitting in church.  I missed my family, community and traditions back in Canada, but something that helped me enjoy the moment was remembering that this was my first and probably last experience of Christmas in Papua. 

(A beautiful view of the ocean 10 minute drive from my house)