Hello My Name is....

As I’m sitting in my new home singing “I’ve Just Seen a Face” to myself, I’m reflecting on the past few days but what has felt like a month already in my new village. It’s everything I expected and at the same time it has completely exceeded my already high expectations. On paper, when I was reading my site description, it was exactly what I was looking for without ever having asked for it. I’m in a rural area in West Java, teaching English at a vocational school. I have a big family and my host mother is the Principal of the elementary school also giving me ties to work with children during my two years here.

I arrived to Bandung to meet my counterpart on June 19^th and late the next day on the 20^th I met my host family. In a matter of 3 full days, now that I’ve actually looked at a calendar I have felt more support and love in this community than I have most of my life. Not to say that my parents don’t love or support me, but the thought that a completely foreign community would accept me with open arms with no reservations after having met me is truly beyond me. My village is mostly rice paddies, a few scattered houses here and there and schools that are in the middle of huge fields. It’s absolutely breathtaking, when I’m riding my bike and not thinking about how much my butt hurts.

The first few hours after having shed some tears to leave my last bit of familiarity from our small group of 20 in West Java, I spent the next seven hours in a car with my counterpart and one of the head masters from my school. They made a joke that I should pretend I don’t know Bahasa Indonesia with my principal, but really it just looked like I was stupid when I attempted it the next day. I met my family that night but it was too soon to tell since we spoke for all of 20 minutes before I took a mandi (bath) and went to sleep. The next day there was a meeting at school I had no idea about and I had to sit through a whole day of I don’t really remember, but I know some of it involved introducing me and a debrief on important Peace Corps policies, followed by many handouts of the roles and responsibilities of the principal and counterparts. That night I spent some quality time with my family and I realized really how wonderful they are and how lucky I was to be with them. They have already hosted a doctor and another teacher, granted I’m the first foreigner but they treat me like an adult and one of their own at the same time- it was a magical concept to me after leaving my Ibu’s in Batu where I had a pink lunchbox made for me every day and I was not allowed to come near the stove like a curious toddler.

I’ve had to make formal introductions with the Head of the Subdistrict, Head of the Village, the parents at school and later on to a community of people at their last day of training preparation before they go on a haji (pilgrimage) to Mecca—each introduction more awkward than the last.

My family is my ibu (mom), my bapak (dad), a younger brother in high school who is always missing and a little sister in 2^nd grade that is just as quirky as I am. There’s also a nanny who helps around the house as well, but her and her family are more like an extension of the same limb. They call it “sehati” = one heart. I went to buy a bike with my counterpart and the nanny (whom I adore) and after begging to lower the price of the mountain bike because I’m a volunteer here to help Indonesians adding an “alhumdililah” (sp?) at the end, we were successful! We couldn’t fit the bike in the car, so the nanny rode the bicycle all the way back home without me even having a chance to protest and a helmet to ride it with. Another example is when my father rode his bicycle with me so I knew the routes around our area and made sure I was safe to ride by myself, granted I’m pretty jumpy on foot- it was equally as frightening watching me on a bicycle jump at the smallest honk or when I saw another dry flattened snake just slightly bigger than the last four. On Sunday, I attended the haji training. The pilgrimage to Mecca is the holiest of journeys in Islam and with Indonesia being 80% Muslim and not much wealth, most people spend their lives saving up to go on this pilgrimage for 40 days. Before they go, they have to attend 8 training sessions, where they go through all the logistics of what to expect when traveling since most have never been out of their village or province. My principal is a respected religious leader in the community and was among the organizers for the haji, and as he was continuing his introduction for me after I spoke. He mentioned that if it was allowed by PC standards, I would be in his home and be one of his children, but to know that when people see me that I am one of his own. At that moment, I realized how many different layers of representation relied solely on me. I now, represented the reputation of my host parents, my principal, my school, Peace Corps, the United States of America and de facto the American government. There was suddenly a new feeling of responsibility instilled in me that I knew I would have but it hadn’t been realized until I met my community and the place where I would create my life for the next two years.

I haven’t had to defend my nationality here, which is also really refreshing. My parents, my co-workers and my neighbors say that I’m from America before I even say my name. I attended the training with my host parents, because they are veterans of the haji and they wear a special national batik. When people were asking who I was, my bapak would say that’s “my baby” or that’s “my child” and my counterpart told me the other day that my Ibu said I was blessing sent from Allah to their family. If these last few days are indication to the rest of my time in Indonesia, then all these little wins will help sustain me through any challenges I may face.