Missions and Vulnerability

It is uncomfortable transitioning from an independent Canadian to a clueless foreigner. The life skills I learned in Canada do not translate to life skills in Indonesia. In Canada I was proud of my independence (I had my own car, shared an apartment, cooked my own food, etc).  But now I have to constantly ask for help and follow people rather than move independently.  I often don’t fully understand what people are saying so I can’t join conversations around me.  I have begun my life in Indonesia as a vulnerable child slowly gaining life skills.  This process is often frustrating because I want to understand the society I live in, but I am constantly faced with my lack of language abilities.  I labeled by blog “Lessons in Empowerment” because I thought I would be learning about other peoples’ empowerment.  In reality, this year in Indonesia might be more about my need for empowerment rather than me empowering others. 

In September at in-country orientation, I remember the global service learning coordinators say that SALT (Serving And Learning Together) is primarily about LEARNING and SERVICE comes second.  He suggested that the acronym should be LAST (Learning And Serving Together).  I agree; I feel like I’m learning more than I’m serving.  I am receiving more help than what I am giving.  I am constantly eating food that other people have prepared.  My host family helps me with many things like parking my motor scooter, doing my laundry, taking me places, etc.  I constantly need help at church to find the right page in the song book or Bible.  The women at P3W have to be patient with me and explain my job duties in a way that I will understand. 

Last year when I was thinking of doing SALT, I was excited about the assignment description “Women’s Empowerment Intern”.  I imagined participating in discussions, teaching, writing documents, and applying my sociological knowledge.  I told my supporters in Canada that I was going to Indonesia to learn about and participate in women’s empowerment.   The problem with my expectations is that I didn’t account for the fact that everything would be in the Indonesian language.  I am being challenged to develop patience as I often feel useless, lost, and dependent. 

However, I believe there is great value in the vulnerability I am experiencing as a privileged white Canadian dependent on people from a “developing country”.  I am reminded every day that people from the West do not have all the answers; I am not superior to the people I am serving.  I am in the midst of learning something from Indonesians that I can hopefully use to teach Canadians.  Christian missions in the past have often been one-sided.  It is the privileged culture teaching the materially and “spiritually” impoverished culture how to live and worship God.  But, my service with MCC is hopefully an example of how we are in need of learning from the societies that are often labeled as developing.  I have realized that I will learn more from Indonesians and Papuans than they will learn from me.

For example, I know how to cook and wash dishes in Canada, but those essential life skills operate differently here.  For starters, we often don’t wash dishes in the sink, but use the floor with a hose.  Then, when there is no dishes rack to dry them, there is a precise way to layer dishes in a big bowl so that they dry.  I baked cookies at home, but there was no measuring cup so I used a glass and guessed at the measurements.  I used ingredients I didn’t understand and baked the cookies in a portable oven placed over the gas stove.  I am constantly faced with my incompetence, but somehow, with a lot of help I get what I require. The cookies turned out great (somehow) and my host family was excited to be eating a desert from Canada.  In my next blog post I will write about my experience of Christmas in Papua.

The Jayapura Transition

3 weeks ago I arrived in Jayapura, Papua, Indonesia.  The drive from the airport to my host family’s house was absolutely stunning with green rolling hills, Sentani lake, and various tropical plants I can’t explain.  I was nervous to walk into the cute pink house that was to become my home.  I met my shy host siblings in the doorway and sat down for tea. 

In Salatiga (where I lived for language school) I was beginning to feel confident in my Indonesian language skills because there were always English speakers around.  However, my confidence went down the drain when I moved to Jayapura and realized my family life, volunteering life, and almost every part of my life will be in Indonesian.  There seems to be less people in Jayapura compared to Salatiga that speak English fluently.  So why is that a big deal?  Trying to communicate in a different language is like learning a foreign code and realizing that your thoughts are incomprehensible unless you use the foreign code.  Because my Indonesian is still basic, I’m not able to express abstract ideas and have to settle for simple conversations.

The 3 core areas of service and learning for SALT Indonesia  are host family, church, and volunteer placement.  I like that there’s 3 realms of responsibility because if one realm is disappointing, stressful, or monotonous than I can enjoy and build relationships in the other realms.  So far at P3W (Women’s Empowerment Organization) I’ve been doing simple tasks such as making cards, creating labels for books in the library and accompanying my coworkers to the stand where they sell crafts.  I go to church every Sunday and to a young adult service once a week. 

Most Papuans here are very shy with me so making friends happens slowly.  In Salatiga, Indonesians were excited to see me and would ask for a photo (or 5).  But here, when I meet Papuans, I am puzzled because I often (not always) see shock and apprehension in their body language.  In some ways it feels like people are scared of me. 

I’m enjoying getting to know my host family.  I have 2 younger sisters (18 and 16) and 2 younger brothers (12 and 2).  My sisters like to sing American songs with me and take selfies.  They add new Indonesian words to my vocabulary while I also teach them English.  Lately, I borrowed some picture books and my host siblings pointed at the pictures and labeled the items in Indonesian.  My 2-year-old brother is full of energy and his favourite activity with me is giving me his toy gun and running away, hoping that I will follow with pretend gunfire. 

Overall, the last 3 weeks of transition has been stressful at times, but also very exciting and awesome to take in how beautiful this part of Indonesia is.  I am posting some pictures, but there are many more beautiful places I would like to show you.

I visited a house that is built on stilts over the lake.  There are villages of these houses, a very traditional way to live.

Hamadi beach - One of the many beaches in Jayapura

Language Study

I can’t believe I haven’t written a blog post about my language study yet!  I have been studying Bahasa Indonesia for the past 4 weeks.  It’s a small class made up of 4 YAMENers (young adults from places other than Canada and the USA) and 4 SALTers (young adults from Canada and the USA).  We are called YALTers and we have volunteer placements in Java and Papua, Indonesia.  Language class is every weekday, 8 am to 12 pm. However, it is normal for class to start late.

We have class at our language teacher’s house.  His name is Mbas Putut. His wife is also a language teacher and they have 2 adorable children.  When the YALTers arrive at 8am (or after) some of us are very sweaty from the bike ride.  The first 10 minutes after arrival are dedicated to cooling off with a fan.  Then we start the day by reviewing vocabulary. 

Five weeks is not a long time to learn a new language, but there has been much progress. When we first started language study, Mbas Putut had to give directions in English, but now he speaks mostly in Bahasa Indonesia. He doesn’t say “open your book and write down your answer.”  He says “baca buku dan tulis jawab.”  You cannot let your mind wander, because every moment requires translation and frequent responses in Bahasa Indonesia.

Learning a new language is demanding and tiring, but Mbas Putut isn’t a drill sergeant.  We have frequent breaks and eat snacks, sing, dance, exercise, etc.  We have gone on many field trips.  We took public transportation to a coffee plantation, swam, visited the market, sang karaoke, visited a small factory that makes peanut squares, and played badminton.

What motivates me to keep on studying the language is connecting with Indonesians that do not speak English.  I live with 16 university students in a dorm and many of them don’t speak much English.  I still cannot understand what they say to each other because they talk so fast, but I often can understand when they talk to me.  My level of language is still basic, but being able to communicate simple things like how many siblings I have and my basic needs/wants is exciting.  I like hearing what my host sisters are writing their undergrad thesis on.  Several of my host sisters have helped me flip through flashcards and they laugh at my silly language mistakes.  The best way to connect when there is a language barrier is to use humour.

            YALTers and Mbas Putut (he is the one just above me making the silly face)

Important update: I have 1 more week in Salatiga and then I will fly to Jayapura, Papua with 1 other SALTer.  In Jayapura I will live with a host family (2 parents and 4 siblings).  I will begin volunteering at P3W, a women’s empowerment organization.  I am excited to finally meet the community I will be living in for the next 9 months.  However, I will miss the MCC team in Salatiga and my host sisters in dorm.

Photoshoot?

On September 20^th, after church the YALTers and several Indonesian host family members went to a parade in Salatiga.  Little did the YALTers know that we would become apart of the parade. The parade started 2 hours late, but we were not just waiting around in the shade, we were posing for pictures with strangers and talking with undercover cops.  Several ordinary looking men approached our group and started asking questions about us.  An undercover cop took a picture with Valarie and I while making the joke that he has 2 wives.

The parade finally begins and I breathe a sigh of relief because this means that I am done being in pictures.  The military march in wearing camouflage and face paint while playing various instruments. I thought I knew what to expect, but what happens next still bewilders me.  The parade halted and some YALTers walked up to them (in the middle of the street) requesting a picture.  I tried to hide so that they wouldn’t pull me into the picture.  I didn’t want to take a picture with them because I feel uncomfortable smiling and thus approving of whatever it is the military does.  Also, the pictures are not my property.  I don’t know if my image will be used to promote things I don’t approve. After the picture I sat down on the sidewalk, but the photoshoot continued for another 15 minutes.  At one point, an officer eased his way between Valarie and I on the sidewalk to get a picture.  YALTers were in high demand, posing for group photos with the military and with fellow bystanders. Finally, the parade mysteriously begins again and we saw some very intricately designed costumes.

I am still adjusting to being a foreigner.  I often don’t like the attention from strangers.  But I have to realize that sometimes, Indonesians are just excited to see a foreigner because some of them can’t travel as much as I can.

The Climb

This is a late post, but I want to explain one of the best memories I have here so far. On September 14, the YALTers and some MCC workers climbed mountain Andong.  It was a steep and somewhat challenging climb, but a little ways into the hike, Valarie (YALTer) and I found that we were at the front of the pack.  That is when I suggested to her that we should not let anyone pass us because we have to be the first ones to the top.  We kept a steady pace and no one caught up to us.  I don’t think that anyone else knew it was a race though.  It would have been more intense if we agreed it was a race when we started. Nevertheless, Valarie and I sat at the top waiting for the rest of our friends to join us.  Mount Andong only took us close to 2 hours, so it is a relatively small mountain.  Last night most of the YALTers and some MCC workers climbed Mount Berbabu, which is a much longer climb (6-8 hours).  I wasn’t able to go because I’m sick with a cold (the Canadian definition of a cold). I haven’t heard back from them yet, but they could be climbing down the mountain right now.

Life as a Baby

I am a baby in a new world.  I have found this to be a relevant metaphor, first told to me by my YALT (YAMEN and SALT) coordinators.  Everyday life is foreign and even simple tasks are drastically different. I am learning how to eat, cross the street, talk, sit, use the eastern toilet, shower, shop, and more.  Whereas in Canada, I could do all of these things by myself without much effort.

I am staying a women’s dorm for Papuan university students here in Salatiga.  One morning I was trying to cut up a mango.  One of the girls, out of a generous spirit, reached for the mango and demonstrated how to cut it up in a more efficient way.  She sliced the entire mango and then proceeded to fetch me a fork.   My mango cutting skills have improved since then, but I was reminded that my way of doing things is probably wrong and most things must be re-learned.

After acquiring utensil skills and learning how to use Eastern toilets, I graduated to a toddler.  This life stage transition was marked by crossing the street while I cling to someone’s arm and cringe.   In Indonesia, people drive on the left side of the road.  The first time we approached a busy street with the intent of crossing it, everything in me was demanding that we should sprint across the street as fast as we could.  However, I have accepted the common, unspoken rule that you should walk at a steady, easy pace. Running is a bad idea because then the drivers cannot predict where you will dart next.  Often, we make it across one lane of traffic and then have to wait in the middle of the road until traffic is clear.  Mom, don’t freak out.  It’s what everyone does and the drivers expect it.

Yesterday, I turned 8 years old as I hopped onto a bicycle.  All the YALTers have different host family homes in Salatiga and we have to ride our bikes to language school.  Driving a bike in Canada is really not the same as Indonesia. For one, most of the traffic is motorcycles.  For two, there are only few street signs.  For three, the roads are short and curve often.  I haven’t gotten lost yet, but I won’t be surprised if I do.

We had our first day of language school today.  I hope to learn more than my vocab right now which consists of greetings, numbers, as well as: I want this; I like that; Where is the washroom?; What’s your name?; No spice; Thank-you.

I talk like a baby.  I know I must sound quite unintelligent to the Indonesian people I meet. This has been a struggle because I enjoy talking about abstract things and I really want to get to know the people I live with. 

I am just a vulnerable foreigner, trusting in the people that take care of me.  I hope to graduate to a double digit age (10 years old would be nice).  But for now, I have to accept my lack of control and my lack of knowledge. 

The Indonesia YALTers hiking

I'm here!!

I've been in Salatiga, Indonesia for a few days, but I've been so jet lagged that I didn't have energy to write!  I'm feeling better as I catch up on sleep. Just to give a general overview, I am with 3 other SALTers and 4 YAMENers (young adults from around the world that have assignments in places other than Canada and the US). We have been learning about MCC Indonesia and we walk around Salatiga a lot.  It is difficult to explain the city, because it is so different than anything I have ever seen/smelt/heard/tasted/sensed.  I hope to give a more creative update later on.