English Camp!

During Lebaran, after I was fully satisfied that I had been to enough group buffet sessions, I organized a trip for 11 students in the 6^th grade (our equivalent of 12^th grade) to travel four hours to Bira beach for some English-based activities and R and R. I quickly realized that an English immersion trip was definitely out of the question with only one native speaker, as the conversation would have been quite brief and one-sided. All in all, I probably learned about as much Indonesian as they did English. Still, we all had a great time roughhousing and engaging in boyish activities—swimming, fighting, competitions of all sorts, sports feats and the like.
This male bonding moment brought to you by sports.

We spent most of the time riding 12 of us in the back of a truck.

I learned a few more things about Indonesian culture while hanging out with the boys. Although the two main destinations of the trip were a pool and the beach, and all of these guys live on an island, I was shocked to realize that very few of them can swim! Crazy. Also, our cultures are completely opposite when it comes to ideal skin color. All Indonesians want to be as white as possible, which leads to the popularizing of whitening skin products and a distinct fear of direct exposure to the sun. Conversely, I am happy to soak up some rays, and ours is a culture of tanning beds and SPF 5 tanning oils. Classic example of the grass always being greener on the other side I suppose. Actually, after reading a little about Indonesian history, I discovered that whiteness is a positive ideal deeply ingrained in their culture. It has its origins in Dutch
colonialism, when the Dutch would strictly deport anyone white who was under a certain income level in order to maintain the strict dichotomy of white wealth and mastery vs. native poverty and servitude. In today’s world, go to any mall in Indonesia and 90 percent of the models in every picture will look nothing like any Indonesian. They are almost all white models from the western world…occasionally I will see a very white face with Asian features. This is the ideal of beauty that upper-class women strive for when going to wedding celebrations. They whiten their faces with so much makeup that each one looks like an expressionless porcelain doll.

Hanging out yet simultaneously fearing the water at the local pool near Bantaeng.

Combine the fear of darkening skin with traditional Islamic conservative values, and it means that 75 percent of the people at the pool and on the beach swim or wade fully clothed. About half the guys are afraid of getting tan, while all the women wear sweatshirts, jeans, and headscarves in the water! My students refused to play a game with me outside after 10:30 AM because the sun was too strong.

Saving money on sunscreen.

We were gone for three days and I think I spent a total of about 10 dollars. By far the cheapest vacation I have ever been on. This was facilitated by the unconditional hospitality of Pesantren alumni and students’ parents that live along our vacation route. We only paid for one meal the entire time. After 32 years in existence, the Pesantren has formed an extensive alumni base throughout the province of South Sulawesi. Alumni meetings with one’s high school are all but unheard of in the United States, but talking with many of the alumni I found that they were born in a particular town, went to the Pesantren for four years, moved back to their town, started a business, got married, and had kids. Conversely, my parents met in Maryland, lived back east for a while, had my brother, moved to Colorado for four years, came to Oregon and had me. This 3,000 mile family relocation is unheard of for an Indonesian. Many of the people I meet here have not even been to Jakarta. Although from our perspective we may be inclined to pity them— don’t. This permanence is a reflection of our different ways of thinking about the world. They are completely happy here in South Sulawesi and, in fact, they don’t really
understand my desire to travel to other areas of Indonesia. When I went away to Lombok and Flores for Ramadan, many people assumed that I had gone to Tana Toraja or Bantimurung, two destinations within a short drive of Makassar.

Sharing a meal in one of the student's houses.

On the way back from Bira beach, taking public transport, I was sharing the front seat with the stick shift between my legs and my head bouncing against the ceiling for a full 4 hours. Thirteen people in one Kijang SUV is the Indonesian idea of efficient transport (you will NEVER see a single mom driving a giant empty suburban in this country!) The discomfort is exponentially amplified by physical contact with other bodies, no air conditioning, and 100 degree temperatures with about a 90 percent humidity factor. Meanwhile, the family behind me had three kids on their laps, who took turns passing around a plastic bag and vomiting into it about three inches behind my head. This astonishingly uncomfortable situation received no comment from other Indonesians in the car as we rode for four hours sweating it out in complete silence. Needless to say, I was relieved to arrive back at my house, crank up the AC, kill the roaches that had accumulated over the past few days, hop in the cold shower and take a deep breath.