Some (funny) things that happened in January

Peace Corps service is essentially a long accumulation of both funny and awkward encounters between myself and Indonesians, especially since I’m still trying to learn the language. People here have senses of humor that put Americans’ to shame, and last week one of my colleagues explained that “we [Indonesians] always find a reason to smile”. The funniest moments though have been caused by both miscommunications and statements that have massively been lost in translation.

Last Sunday I went to my first English competition in Jombang, the next city east of my site. I met up with several volunteers, both ID11’s and ID12’s. I judged the speeches portion of the competition, which is exactly what it sounds like: kids giving speeches. SD (elementary school) students compete by memorizing 2-3 minute speeches completely in English. Imagine being eight years old and memorizing a speech completely in Spanish, or any other foreign language… you’d forget the speech halfway in, you’d mess up on pronunciation, and, since you’re a little kid, you’d probably be quaking with fear. The same thing happened for these competitors. It was cutthroat, little girls were crying, parents were helping from the audience, and the pressure was on. I totally was the Paula of the three judges (that’s an American Idol reference) and gave the students more points than they deserved. They were giving a speech in English! That deserved so many points to begin with. One of the criteria includes “expression”, and the more expressive a child is, the more points they usually get. I can’t get the picture out of my head of the pint-sized little girl approaching the stage and then shouting “HONORABLE JUDGES AND JURY, ALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE MYSELF” precisely how a baseball player is called at bat. The best moment of the competition was the quiz show later that day, though. Chelsea and Bones (his nickname) were the judges. Man, I thought American parents were intense during stuff like that. There should be an Indonesian reality show called “English Competition Moms” that is almost exactly like Dance Moms or Toddlers and Tiara’s, except it’s Indonesian kids speaking English. The questions were comical. My favorite was, “Say your mom gives you a banana. What is a banana?” and “I like to write letters to my friends. What is my hobby?” The answers to those are fruit and correspondences…obviously. Anyway, the English competition was pretty interesting...

The teacher’s room at most Indonesian schools is a funny, and as mentioned, interesting place. Desks are lined in long rows, and there’s a corner with water, coffee, tea and a mini-fridge at my school. We also have two acoustic guitars, one electric, a ukulele and a keyboard. And a mattress on the floor if you’re feelin’ a nap, but I digress. One morning, I was handed a water bottle, which should’ve been the dead giveaway that things were going to go wrong. I hate plastic water bottles. But, I wanted to get it cold, and walked toward the fridge to put in in there. From the opposite corner of the room, I just hear “Eeeeh Kayla, you need to write your name on that or someone will take it.” Got it! Name is written, bottle gets placed in the fridge. Two hours later, after finishing a class, I sprint to the fridge to grab the water. IT’S GONE. I just stand in front of the open mini fridge, arms out in confusion with my mouth gaping open. I put my NAME on it. I turned to the teacher that warned me about the name writing, and as he asks, “Well did you put your name on it?” we simultaneously turn to an ibu guru who is mid-sip with MY water in hand. I assured her that it was all good, and that she didn’t have to worry. After getting home and hanging out for an hour or two, I hear my ibu say, “Kayla, you have a friend…”. It was the teacher that took my bottle, with a bag full of cold waters and ice cream. Indonesians, man...

Cock fighting is a pretty popular activity in Indonesia, which is heartbreaking to say. Although it is illegal, it’s still common. I myself have not been to a cock fight, but I have seen them happening. Most men raise their roosters and then prepare them to fight others, usually friend’s or neighbors. Last Tuesday I was at the canteen and the conversation shifted to why I did not eat chicken. I explained, in broken bahasa, that I liked animals, so I do not want to eat them. Chickens roam all over the place here; they’re in the street, and hang around homes. Sometimes they roam into your house from the door that’s usually wide open. One teacher, one of English CP’s, explained that I should go to another teacher’s house to see his chickens. I thought nothing of it, many have chickens that they raise and kill for food, and it’s also common for people to own many chickens, then sell them to slaughter. The teacher then went on to explain that he “fights” his chicken, and that next week they are going to have their chickens fight. Immediately I responded, exclaiming, in English, “OOH, you mean cock fighting”. They answered with an excited “YES!” then continued for about ten minutes, in English, explaining how they have strong cocks, how one guy’s cock is bigger than the other’s, and how they bet money on who’s cock is the best. At first, I wasn’t going to say anything… but I literally lost it. I was laughing so hard, trying to explain how you can say “cock fighting” but the word alone isn’t used to call a rooster. English is weird… and when my CP finally whispered to the others what that words means, the “I’M SO SORRY MISS I DIDN’T KNOW” didn’t stop for the rest of the afternoon. Too funny not to share...

One positive thing about being 5’8 in Indonesia is the basketball. I’m usually the tallest player, and my long arms help a lot. Last week I played some basketball with a few other teachers, which I hadn’t done in a while (playing basketball I mean). It’s a bit difficult to communicate with team members and other players when all you want to do is speak English, so eventually the other teachers caught on and, in their heavy Indonesian accents, started saying “check!” or “shoot!”. It was a fun time playing, and I forgot how fun it can be when people aren’t taking it as seriously. I’ve been requested to bring our school’s basketball teams to glory...

The rainy season is in full force now, and every afternoon meets a heavy storm, usually with thunder and lightning. Umbrellas, giants ponchos that meet the floor, or rain jackets are necessary for any activity after 1pm. Because it has never rained earlier than noon at site, and because I usually go home before the rain picks up, I decided to leave my rain jacket on the back of my chair at school one day. Two hours after arriving home, which is about 500 meters from school, I got a text from another teacher telling me that I forgot my jacket. I tried to explain (emphasis on try) that I left it there on purpose, and that I don’t need it. Usually after returning home, I stay at home and relax. He wasn’t convinced. Later that night, I came out of my room and found it hanging on my door. Indonesians, man...

Last weekend I met up with a few friends in Kediri. It was the first time being back there since leaving in December, and it felt like PST was years ago. It almost felt like I had never lived there, even though we were there for almost three months. I decided to surprise my host family there, and schemed with my host sister to ensure that everyone would be home while I made my surprise. I took a Grab, or the Indonesian equivalent of Uber, to Manisrenggo, and met up with Tia. Then I quietly walked into the kitchen to see my ibu's back facing me. Because majority of the county is muslim, the greeting when entering a home or room is assalamualaikum, meaning “peace be upon you”. I quietly greeted my ibu, where she returned the greeting with waalaikumsalaam without moving a muscle… she hadn’t even noticed that I said it, and just reacted naturally to someone saying it to her. But when she turned around…wow. I don’t think anyone has ever been that excited to see me. She shrieked, jumped up and down, and hugged me. Then of course she immediately asked “what do you want to eat?”. Ibu, check… next was Ade, my host cousin, and my host aunt, who was another volunteer’s ibu. I simply walked into their house behind my host sister, and saying nothing, surprised the crap out of them. Everyone was very, very surprised, but also very happy to see me. I felt really good knowing that I was loved by my Kediri family despite the short time spent with them...

Also, joking with my sitemate, Chelsea’s, ibu earlier this month, I said that I don’t have a boyfriend. People are obsessed with my relationship status, and maybe everyday I’m reminded that most people are married by my age. This is a cultural thing, where more often than not you're defined by if your single or married. Usually I explain that this is not the same in America, but you need to have a sense of humor about it, so I just told Chelsea’s ibu that I’m okay with being single. Later that day, we were talking about what we are allergic to. I said I was allergic to cats, Chelsea to cockroaches (she’s not, she just hates them), and Chelsea’s ibu, totally deadpan, in perfect English, says that I’m allergic to men. Chelsea and I couldn’t breathe we were laughing so hard...

I think when service ends I’ll remember these little, funny moments the most. Obviously there are hard times during service, which I explained in my last post, but there are also tiny moments of joy and humor, like when I have a funny, albeit awkward conversation with another teacher, or when I teach the neighborhood kids how to play freeze tag, or when I hang out with fellow volunteers and we share hilarious moments together. All good things, and I hope the next two years are as comical as the past month.