{"id":3532,"date":"2014-08-03T09:18:10","date_gmt":"2014-08-03T13:18:10","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/intramuralist.com\/?p=3532"},"modified":"2014-08-03T09:23:37","modified_gmt":"2014-08-03T13:23:37","slug":"otherness","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/intramuralist.com\/?p=3532","title":{"rendered":"otherness"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"woman<\/a>Father, Mother, and Me<\/i>
\nSister and Auntie say<\/i>
\nAll the people like us are We,<\/i>
\nAnd every one else is They.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cWe and They\u201d by\u00a0<\/i>Rudyard Kipling<\/i><\/a><\/p>\n

I\u2019m on the train going back to Bandung after a day in Jakarta. It\u2019s a nice train \u2013 nicer than Amtrak \u2013 with a comfortable seating, attentive stewards, and an air conditioner that would rival the blast freezer at any high end restaurant. Families sit and sit together, watching the bad television at the front end of the train, letting their kids run amok. There are a bunch of little kids, and as they run up and down the train \u2013 not too loud, oddly \u2013 they all stop and stare\u00a0at me because I\u2019m the only bule<\/i><\/a> around.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s odd that primarily when I travel do I feel my otherness. People \u2013 mainly kids \u2013 peer around corners and over seats to get a glimpse of the lone\u00a0white guy, as though they haven\u2019t seen one before (and perhaps they haven\u2019t). <\/i>Usually my neighborhood places\u00a0in Bandung know me, so I don\u2019t feel as though I stand out much there. It\u2019s just when I travel that I really remember that I\u2019m the only white guy, standing out from the crowd, garnering looks or a few\u00a0surreptitious camera snaps from a Blackberry under someone\u2019s arm.<\/p>\n

The first time I experienced this was about a month\u00a0after I moved to Indonesia, when I was on the island of Sulawesi (<\/i>another post on this trip here<\/i><\/a>).<\/i> What I didn\u2019t go into in the\u00a0post I just mentioned was my first experience of the bule effect. I was with a friend bringing supplies to a village cut off by a landslide, and a helicopter<\/a> was picking up boxes of noodles and water to aid the isolated area. I was one of two bule in the vicinity and I felt it. It was palpable. Literally every person\u00a0in the surrounding area came to see the helicopter landing and taking off multiple times. It was an impressive sight. Apparently, so was I, because when the dust from the helicopter had cleared, the people had not left yet, and they were still snapping pictures with whatever device they had at hand \u2013 of me.<\/p>\n

\n

The military who came in to supervise the operation was starting to clear the people out when they noticed who they were taking pictures of, and they started to walk toward me. I was a little freaked out because I was not\u00a0ready for armed soldiers striding in my direction, saying things in a language I did not yet understand.<\/p>\n

Frozen, I just stood to see what what about to happen. They got to me and were also speaking quickly in Indonesian, and finally I picked out the words that I would come to associate with traveling in Indonesia: \u201cFoto, Mister<\/i>?\u201d<\/p>\n

With that, no less uncomfortable, but much less fearful, my newfound military friends proceeded to form a line at least thirty deep, each shaking my hand and putting an arm around my shoulder before having one of their compatriots snap a few quick pictures. I\u2019m probably on the Facebook pages of half the military in Sulawesi now, all for the incredible achievement of being different.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s no longer\u00a0an uncomfortable feeling because it is in no way malicious. The most it is is slightly intrusive when someone gawks for too long in an obvious way or asks to take a picture with me. I think that I haven\u2019t done anything to deserve it \u2013 I\u2019m certainly no Brad Pitt, and it seems to reinforce the tradition of idolizing foreigners. But at the same time, it\u2019s flattering and kind, and often funny.<\/p>\n

After two years, I\u00a0can tell when they\u2019re going to come over to ask for the picture. By now, I\u2019m pretty good at sensing it. There\u2019s a posse \u2013 usually girls \u2013 who slowly and not-so-nonchalantly makes its way toward me. They usually are whispering to one another, shooting furtive glances my way, each one coaxing the others to make the first step to asking for a picture. Or odder still, an \u201cinterview.\u201d<\/p>\n

The interview is an interesting phenomenon because it\u2019s a completely legitimate tool that the universities use to have their students practice their English. They\u2019ll send out groups to talk to unsuspecting bule sitting in coffee shops (usually grading or working on lesson plans, in my case),<\/i> and they\u2019ll descend on us \u2013 often with the same modus operandi as the picture seekers. These interviewers can be divided into two categories: real and fake. The legitimate ones have a set of questions printed on a piece of paper that they follow and on which they record my answers. The fakers all very clearly make it up as they go, writing nothing, but plowing ahead boldly anyway, and I don\u2019t have the heart to completely shut them down. However, after a few minutes they run out of steam and fade out, while those with the questionnaires follow their script, and I\u2019m usually happy to let them proceed \u2013 I am a teacher after all.<\/p>\n

The questions, legitimate or otherwise, always follow the same script.<\/p>\n

1. What is your name?<\/i>
\n2. Where are you from? (About half the time, when I answer that I\u2019m American, they\u2019ll respond with a thumbs up and a hearty \u201c<\/i>Obama<\/i>!\u201d)<\/i>
\n3. How long have you been in Indonesia?<\/i>
\n4. What are you doing here? Student or teacher?<\/i><\/p>\n

This is all standard fare, but then the inevitable final question:<\/p>\n

5. What is the biggest difference between America and Indonesia?<\/i><\/p>\n

My answer to that question: That question.<\/p>\n

At no point in America \u2013 if you value your safety or dignity \u2013 would someone go up to another person and, based solely upon the premise of their otherness, begin interrogating that person. Certainly not, \u201cHey, you\u2019re Black\/Asian\/Hispanic\/<\/i>Insert Ethnicity Here<\/i>: Answer my questions!\u201d <\/i>Your answer might come in the form of a punch in the nose.<\/p>\n

We\u2019re perfectly accustomed to our heterogeneous lives. Differences are a part of our DNA in the United States \u2013 obviously there are those who feel differently, who harbor a deep seated racism. But, walk through any supermarket, not to mention a Whole Foods or something like Jungle Jim\u2019s (a regional tourist destination in the Midwest),<\/i> and you\u2019ll see evidence that we like difference.\u00a0Everything we have and everything we are came from another place.<\/p>\n

The situation in which I often find myself simply speaks to the homogeneity paradox of Indonesia. At least, in terms of Asian to non-Asian. This is actually a hugely diverse nation. With countless tribal groups (of which I\u2019ve only encountered a scant few),<\/i> and a large, fairly dominant (in terms of economics)<\/i> Chinese population, there is nothing but diversity in Indonesia. They have an aspect of their constitution that says, Bhinneka Tunggal Ika<\/i><\/a>, similar to our E Pluribus Unum<\/i>. However, here there is a minuscule minority of caucasians. Hence, the stares, pictures, and other efforts to single us out. Once I was walking by a school while students were eating lunch, and a group of ten high schoolers ran to the fence and clung to it, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, watching me walk by. I\u2019m not narcissistic, either. I was the only person within sight walking down the road near my house. It\u2019s just an odd fact of life.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m not annoyed by it, unless I am actually trying to get work done at the coffee shop, and even then I tell the interviewers that I only have a few minutes to spare and they readily oblige. I worry at times that these moments reinforce the decades \u2013 centuries even \u2013 old perception of westerners as better or more important than Indonesians, a thought process instilled by the Dutch during their occupation. This imperialistic holdover bothers me. Edward Said would have found some irony, however, as generally he talked about Otherness in context of those in Power marginalizing those without it by thinking of them as set apart and below themselves. The stereotype that stems from the colonial period is that of the European superiority, infused in the culture on many levels. And yet, I am a schoolteacher in Asia who is singled out by those around him, questioned and viewed as exotic. Oh, how the tables have turned, Mr. Said.<\/p>\n

And then other times I think that it\u2019s just because I represent a culture that (for better or worse)<\/i> they\u2019re focused on, through movies and music. They rarely see white people outside of that context, and so they take the opportunity as some would when they see someone famous, because it\u2019s simply outside the realm of normality. So maybe it isn\u2019t so different from Said\u2019s premise, after all.<\/p>\n

But most often it\u2019s just the picture. We all smile awkwardly \u2013 which everyone knows it is \u2013 and take the picture(s). About half the time the whole group takes the picture together, and the rest of the time is a long series of one at a time pictures, just me and a long string of girls. It\u2019s weirder when there\u2019s the random couple of guys in the midst of the girls, because let\u2019s face it: I\u2019d rather have pictures with girls I don\u2019t know than guys.<\/p>\n

I hope that when they meet me they realize that there\u2019s nothing special or picture worthy about me. I\u2019m just different, and my kind of different is simply in the form of my skin. Regardless, I\u2019ll still be there, sitting at the coffee shop, probably grading or writing lesson plans, and I\u2019m happy to talk for awhile, though it will be less illuminating than they think.<\/p>\n

Respectfully…<\/p>\n

Tyler<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Father, Mother, and Me Sister and Auntie say All the people like us are We, And every one else is They. \u201cWe and They\u201d by\u00a0Rudyard Kipling I\u2019m on the train going back to Bandung after a day in Jakarta. It\u2019s a nice train \u2013 nicer than Amtrak \u2013 with a comfortable seating, attentive stewards, and … <\/p>\n

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