English Club: a Work in Progress

I've been singing the same song for a while now, and that's the main reason why I haven't written as much in recent weeks. There's been one overwhelming and reoccurring thought on my mind for the better part of two months – how could things get any better? I'm completely ducking the financial crisis because of the fact that, while the U.S. economy is falling, the U.S. dollar is in extremely high demand, so our currency is quite strong around the world. In Indonesia, the dollar is worth 33% more than it was last year at this time. So while I haven't been doing as much inter-island traveling, I've been making up for it with many day trips on my motorcycle and just living it up in Indonesia's 3rd largest city. My teaching is going phenomenally well because I have been spending much more time on preparation. Last year when I was living on my school's campus, it might seem as if I should have been more productive. However, I've found that I can separate myself from my school any time I want this year, and consequently, I'm more motivated to make a difference while I'm there. I spent a lot of time with people in my village last year, but I also spent a lot more time in my room, trying to escape in the only place where privacy was possible. When I was in my house, the last thing I wanted to think about was lesson planning. I wasn't unhappy, but I needed more time to unwind.

I've now gotten over most of the hurdles that bothered me in my first year; I've reached the top of the mountain, and with a much broader perspective, I'm looking down at all I've accomplished thus far. I can Also see what is possible for me to achieve within the next 6 or 7 months with a clarity of vision I could have never hoped for this time last year, even when trying to plan a weekend vacation. The vast majority of cultural differences that bothered me last year don't even phase me anymore, and I know how to avoid situations that still make me cringe. The remainder of my time here is not even going to be a down-hill-battle, so much as rolling down a clover-covered hillside. There will inevitably be a few pebbles and bumps, but I just bought some band-aids at a local pharmacy. I've never felt more prepared to deal with the unpredictable and the unknown. There's no reason for me to feel overconfident about this either. This is currently my home; I speak the language, I have tons of friends my age, and I know the street names. When I was in college, I never found myself looking at the upcoming semester with skepticism or apprehension. I see no reason to be any more cautious than I was during my sophomore year of college.

The fact of the matter is that if I approach people in this culture in the way that they prefer (not the way that I would want to be treated... If there's anything I've learned, it's that in a global era, the Golden Rule is simply obsolete and quite frankly alienating), then I've basically got the key to people's hearts and ultimately the city. I'm not saying this to be funny, and I'm not saying it because I've been insincerely taking advantage of anyone, but the fact of the matter is that racism takes a different form in every culture, and the role I play in this country could never escape from the reality of how people see foreigners within their own borders. I don't use my status to get lower prices at the market or to get people to cancel their plans to do things for me, but I do use it to make connections everywhere I go and to create unique situations, where I know I will get an experience that would have never otherwise been possible.

Bule is the slang term for a westerner, and Bules are known for being rich, handsome, intelligent, successful, motivated, and arrogant (probably in that order). They are usually very high-profile, living in exclusive neighborhoods, driving (or being driven in) expensive cars, and shopping at costly grocery stores that most Indonesians would never enter. I'm a different kind of high-profile though, and arguably, I'm probably considerably more high-profile than the businessmen pulling tens of thousands of dollars a year. I go riding around on my motorcycle (which is low-end even by Indonesian standards) waving and stopping at street vendors, and yelling back “I love you too!” when a middle-aged man feels compelled to shout from his front porch the only thing he knows in English. Usually, I feel like I stand out more because I try to fit in. It's easy to ignore someone who you assume is probably going to ignore you. I often felt cornered by all the attention I got in Central Java, and although I tended to be one of the Fulbrighters who enjoyed playing up the constant flattery, I'm not ashamed to admit that this year has reached a whole new level.

I can see how many people from back home would scoff at my daily interactions with people, and if I were put into an American context, then yeah, I would probably look like a creep, or at least annoying. But, what is important to mention is that my primary concentration (and it will remain my number one focus as long as I'm living in another country) is to mirror everything from attitudes to tones of voice. I would never be the ham that I am in this country if people weren't begging for it. Women and men from North Sumatra are inconceivably flirtatious performers (and I thought Java was something). I like to see people smile, and when I show them that I am just as happy to be talking with them as they are to be talking with the only westerner they've ever met who can speak their language, and when I take the microphone at the karaoke shed across the street from my complex, there's really no where to go but up. I mean seriously, the other day a police officer asked me for my phone number as he pulled beside me while we were both driving on a busy street, and the armed guards at a military base close to my house almost drop their machine guns every time I pass by trying to wave at me.

See, this is why it's hard to write about my experiences here. I don't know how to express this stuff without giving off a blatant air of narcissism. You'll have to come and see for yourself, so you can get some perspective if you ever want me to get into the 75% of stories that I'm withholding!

All that being said, I'm not just going to stop being careful. This past week I had a painful reminder of why I should not let myself get too comfortable.

Monday's session of English club was, overall, the most successful meeting I'd had had to date with my students outside of class. I facilitated an activity where all students had to rank criteria and priorities that came from different topics and categories. For example, one category was “leisure activities,” which including swimming, dancing, reading, drinking, etc. They then had to rate each option based on criteria such as “educational,” “healthy,” “sociable,” etc. The students were engaged, speaking English without thinking, and laughing about their explanations. But, in the midst of all the fun, I misspoke – big.

One negative aspect of this culture that I don't want to pick up is the tendency people have here to generally lack what westerners would consider to be “tact.” Empathy isn't real big in this part of the world, and with all the strife, I can understand why. The fact of the matter is that people say what they think and don't see much of a reason to sensor their thoughts. Consequently, they normally have tremendous amounts of fun because, within a group of friends, no one is worrying about what other people think. They aren't easily offended. However, they are not immune, and I often see quarrels.

Let's say that, in Medan, the ratio of snide comments made to persons who get offended is 10:1. Let's say that it's 10:5 in the U.S. (I don't think this is an exaggeration. Imagine you had just met your high school sweetheart for the first time in 6 years and the first thing he or she said to you was, “Wow, you look so fat now,” would you not be offended? This kind of greeting is not only typical here; a comment about how your physical appearance has changed for the worse would be totally expected.) Anyway, the sheer volume of snide comments made here is mind-boggling, so even if people are five times more likely to be offended in America, I bet that there are still more arguments in Medan.

To tell you the truth, that sort of mindset has already begun to rub off on me, and I find myself rattling off just about anything that comes to mind on a pretty regular basis. It's received very well though, because not only do people appreciate honesty more than flattery, they have pretty dark senses of humor (and I guess you'd have to). What happened on Monday though was still an overt cultural blunder. And really, what am i saying? This was a blunder that would surely transcend cultural barriers. Nevertheless, I'll blame it on being in the habit of not thinking as critically about the things I say before I say them.

The category was “Ways of getting money.” Some of the included options were practices such as “hard work,””tax evasion,” “bank robbery,” and “marrying a rich wife/husband.” Students had to rank these things based on criteria such as “efficient,” “ethical,” “difficult,” and “reliable.” We had some entertaining conversation especially concerning which was most and least ethical. Some of the girls in the room had no problem saying blatantly that they planned on marrying rich, and a few of the guys laughed at the idea of actually paying their required taxes after they graduate.

It wasn't until the very last criterion of “reliability,” that the problem arose. The students' answers had been varying all afternoon on each subject, so it was common for them to seek my opinion. But, when they asked, “Mr. Ken, what do you think is the most reliable way of getting money in Indonesia,” I should have prefaced my answer with an explanation of the duties of the IRS before I said “tax evasion.” In my mind, I had already thought about the fact that, while tax evasion here doesn't ensure you a large sum of much money, it is a sure bet to get at least a little extra because there's virtually no government effort to regulate it, and almost everyone does it. Nearly all transactions are made with cash, and nobody has registered businesses. Neglecting your duties to pay taxes to the government is easy, common, and doesn't have any real consequences. The actual unemployment rate in indonesia is probably miles higher than the percentage of people who pay their taxes.

Nevertheless, my comment was a conversation wrecking-ball, and I immediately realized it. I had to work very hard to recover because it was not at all the answer any of them were expecting (and I shouldn't have said it). The students ended up not caring, and they were laughing in a couple minutes after I tried to explain what I meant. The teacher who was accompanying me, however, was not so easily persuaded that I had only misspoke. She had interpreted my comment as a product of the tendencies of westerners to project their superiority onto people in struggling countries. Any teacher should have answered “hard work” to a group of students, and my analysis of the situation should have been restricted to a time of established discussion – not during a light-hearted game. Thankfully my students, just being teenagers, didn't think twice, and I apologized personally to a couple of the really thoughtful ones, but Ms. Siregar later told me that my comment had brought her to tears later that day. I didn't even know it, but the next day was a huge nationalistic holiday for Indonesia. Tuesday was Hari Guru or Teacher's Day, and the celebrations at schools that accompany this holiday are massive. I hadn't realized that the extra after-school meetings and extracurriculars, which had been going on for weeks, were all in preparation for Teacher's Day, a holiday I saw on the calendar but never gave a second thought. Indonesians have a different kind of pride in their country than Americans, and because they show their love for their country in different ways (like with huge, frequent, lengthy, and organized ceremonies), Americans would probably consider them to be more nationalistic. The spirit of patriotism in Indonesia was high, and Ms. Siregar was quite disappointed in me that I had, in effect, told a group of students that stealing from your government is more promising than following your dreams.

The situation is neither here nor there at this point because I honestly felt terrible for saying it, and Ms. Siregar knew it, plus I made every effort to apologize and to make up for it. I had overstepped my bounds, so without being defensive, I silently endured some pretty pointed and harsh text messages. It's nice to be an adult and to know that when problems arise, most people are actually willing to work at making the situation better, as long as the offending party makes the first attempt to genuinely reconcile. I'm so happy that the days of high school grudges are over because I was losing sleep about this. All I could think about for a few days was an Eddie Izzard comedy sketch that mocked a British ambassador who gave an embarrassing speech in China a few years ago.

“Hello, I'm not too happy to be on the job, and I think you're all a bunch of bastards. I hate you personally. Bye...

“...did I do something wrong –

“what? Ohhh... the whole thing...”