Why this Language and Culture are so Darn Cute

Part 2: The Culture in General

The welcoming attitudes, the warm gazes, the incessant giggling, the sweet kids, the eager adults, and the effortless smiles are just some of the untouchable qualities that make Indonesian culture what it is. Granted, poor work ethic, rivers of garbage, roads plagued with oil-guzzling trucks, above-ground sewage, and preposterous standards for education also help to define this society. However, from day one, these blaringly obvious pitfalls have never seemed to stack up against the positive qualities I mentioned in my first list. I'm not sure if Indonesian people are so happy because they just ignore all the misfortune around them, if the are able to ignore all their misfortune because they have so much to be happy about, or if they encounter so much misfortune because they tend to happily ignore the root causes of all their problems. Regardless, these people struggle daily but remain unequivocally carefree. That sort of attitude is contagious. So when I talk about my experiences, it's not only difficult, but also culturally abnormal to mention drawbacks. Few people talk to me about Indonesian's problems in all seriousness, so what I end up noticing on a day-to-day basis (or maybe what I fight to stay focused on) is just how cute and enduring everything is.

The substitution of mind for heart in daily expressions, and in general thinking as well, is something I find, not necessarily comforting, but certainly, for lack of a better word, heart-warming. If a person wanted to express, “It's been on my mind for a while,” the common Indonesian equivalent phrase would translate directly as “It's been saved in my heart.” The word from Indonesian for heart is hati, and if you wanted to tell someone to “be careful,” you would say hati-hati. Suggesting that someone “pay attention” or “pay it mind” would be stated as memperhatikan, or “give it your heart.” And it's not common to simply call someone “sincere” or tulus in Indonesia; you would want to tell them that they are tulus hati.

Another reason why this brings a smile to my face, though, is because the Indonesian core of emotions is, in fact, not the heart; it is the liver. So actually, when telling someone to “give it their heart,” you are indeed suggesting to them to “give it their liver!” This may sound silly, but there might actually be more to this.

Let's look at the two vital organs side-by-side. The heart is without a doubt one heck of an important muscle, but let's face it; it's just a muscle. It's a strong muscle, creating enough pressure to circulate blood through the entire body, but it pales in comparison to the complexity of the liver. The liver has it's hands in such important enterprises as managing our metabolism, protein synthesis, decomposition of red blood cells, producing bile to aid in digestion, and as you heavy drinkers know, detoxification. Biologically speaking, the liver simply has a better track record and has proven itself time and time again that it is a more organized, responsible, and trustworthy candidate for taking on another important task, such as regulating our emotions. If a person in the U.S. gets “stabbed in the heart,” they will die instantly. An indonesian person, on the other hand, who takes the same blow to the liver has at worst 24 hours to collect themselves, make some phone calls, and chances are, they'll probably survive. Heart simply falls short.* If nothing else, this is as good an explanation as any for the causality conundrum on which I was commenting in the first paragraph.

If you happen to be quite close to someone's liver in this country, then you will be subject to all sorts of interrogation. In fact, it seems that the mundaneness of the questions someone asks you on a daily basis is a perfect indicator of the degree to which they care about you. The more uninteresting the questions; the more concerned they are.

“Sudah sembuh?” is the entry level question for a person who has entered your life and whom you see regularly. This means “Are you feeling better?” As you might have noticed, climbing “above the weather” and staying there is not the easiest task in this country. Getting sick in some respect (be it a cold, sore throat, or some stomach discomfort) is probably a biweekly occurrence for most Indonesians, and feeling ill is something simple that anyone with whom you have frequent contact would know about you. So basically, anyone who knows that you had, at one time, not been well will, with out fail, ask you if you are doing alright.

“Sudah tidur?” is a step up. Sleeping is something we people do once daily, and asking if you have “gotten enough sleep” shows that you are truly a fixture in that person's life. As it happens, lack of sleep can lead to illness, and we wouldn't want to have to take a step back in our relationship and ask something semi-irregular, like “Have you gotten better yet?” It's more promising to keep tabs incessantly on one's sleep patterns.

“Sudah Mandi?” is a question which shows that you have more or less entered the realm of family. Bathing is something Indonesians do at least twice a day, by culture. Plus, this is, by nature, a bit more personal. If someone has asked you if you've already taken a bath by late afternoon, they are in no way insinuating that you stink; they are simply making sure that you haven't neglected to consider your personal hygiene. Appearance and first impressions are even more important here than in the U.S., and we wouldn't want to find ourselves in a position where we would have to meet someone of a “higher status” without having taken a shower, now would we?

Let me put it this way; if a girl asks me, “Sudah makan?” I can be pretty sure that marrying her is not out of the question – or that she views me as a son (or both). And if this question comes from a male, we are basically siblings. We eat at least three times a day, and when people are checking up on your dining habits, you know that you could not be closer to them. In Indonesia, a question like “How have you been since your sister's death?” withers in the shadow of a question like, “Have you taken your lunch yet?” A true friend would not only already have a firm grasp on any case where your family member has died, but they would have already gone to great lengths to make sure you are coping positively. Conversing about death and serious injury in Indonesia is basically chewin' the fat and could come up as a side conversation in literally any setting. However, if it so happened that I forgot to bring a sandwich to the teacher's lounge, my closest friends would be eager to share half of their fried rice.

As I mentioned above, status is quite important in this country, and it's an Asian phenomenon that just doesn't exists to the same extent in the western world. “Saving face” and “keeping your name” are of utmost importance and are always on people's minds. And what better way to show that you are an upstanding and contributing member of society than to have a boatload of abbreviated titles prefixing your name? These aren't just novelties either that you simply let go of after you switch jobs. In Indonesia, if you were ever manager of a Pizza Hut, then Mgr. is something you could always insert after Mr. and before your name. People often call me “Pak Guru Ken.,” which translates to “Mr. Teacher Ken.” Guru is just another heading I can now save, until the end of my days, within my ever accumulating list of titles. Should I obtain a doctorate and then acquire some sort of religious standing in the upcoming years, if I come back, then I will surely be referred to as Mr. Dr. Preacher Teacher Ken!

*The heart and liver commentary was in no way an endorsement for John McCain