Oryza as Oracle or Revalations in the Rice Field

I can't describe the beauty of walking through the rice fields in my neighborhood at twilight. It is the dusty hour of ghosts, when ibus everywhere warn you to stay inside lest you get possessed. Day-dreaming and after dark: these are the times when you are most susceptible to possession apparently. Twilight is everything the easy sun-soaked hours of the early afternoon are not: fresh, mysterious and quiet (ok, besides the sound of the mosque, but that easily becomes background noise for me now). Beautiful places tend to add clarity to my perspective. They have the power to clear out all the cobwebs of my cluttered mind and leave only the here and now, stripped to its bare essence. 

 

Sometimes I am afraid of experiencing something truly sublime alone. Will I remember standing on the narrow dykes in between the mirror-like paddies, lighter than the sky, with mud weighing down my crocs? Will I remember how suddenly expansive it all felt, surrounded on all sides by watery fields and dark muddy paths leading away at not-so-perfect right angles? Will I remember the marbled clouds wobbling on the surface of the water which was streaked with eerie lights from the houses at the edge of the rice field? Or the lone tree that stood in the middle of it all, providing me with a point to reach? (I was as proud as if I'd landed on the moon.) And what of the call to prayer and the calls of frogs which filled the space of my mind so that I thought of nothing but what was in front of me? 

No, I may forget many details about Indonesia once I leave but I won't forget the feeling of particular moments such as these, wandering in nature among all the peaceful crepuscular-loving ghosts.

After my evening slog through the rice paddy I found myself asking, "what am I doing here?" As I was walking back in the dark, stumbling through the paths which were now less familiar (not because of the darkness but because I felt more alert to my surroundings), I wondered at how I came to have that frame of reference. How did I come to have an emotional attachment to this place so as to make it feel familiar, to make me feel a bit more connected to this strange place? I've often thought that you can only really know something once you're able to recognize the subtle changes it undergoes. 

Or, as Ursula Le Guin puts it: "Truth, as ever, avoids the stranger."

All of these people who go abroad with the expressed intention "to help" in another country - why do they stay? The decision to go is varied enough and perhaps mostly driven by personal desires in the beginning, when you can't really know what to expect and everything is just grand overtures and romantic ideals. Some might stay because the desire to fill out their resume is strong enough, but for most people I would not think that sufficient motivation to complete such an unpredictable, undefinable job as ours: volunteer english teachers. 

Our job description reads counterpart and cultural ambassador. It is as vague as it is impersonal; hardly a good argument to present yourself with on those days of doubt. A compelling reason to stay is feeling that you serve a purpose - first to your own life but also to the new community who adopts you. And you only know you serve a purpose for others once you have been invited to stay. Not simply for social currency (exhibit a. "hey look we have a foreigner!"; exhibit b. "hey look I'm helping out in a developing country. Aren't I noble?") but for your own unique offerings. And I think that really boils down to mindset. You can be extremely qualified to teach kids and share your knowledge about America but if you treat your differentness as a closed door whenever opportunity strikes, getting pissed off or easily overwhelmed by the attention and occasional harassment, then you'll want to leave and that will show. This invitation I speak of is usually not straight-forward or spoken aloud but a warmer current in the social atmosphere around you that develops over time. 

I think purpose is truly born within a moment that is especially impressive in some way. Beauty makes an impression. It makes me feel as though there is so much more of it to see. Indonesia might be in the international spotlight right now for its hard line on drugs (I wrote this a week ago as 8 of the 10 national and international drug smugglers were executed by firing squad) but in 10 years the impressions of my personal memories will be more tangible than the feature headlines of the Jakarta Post or international stories squished on page 3 of the Los Angeles Times*.

Despite my personal differences of opinion with some of the politics, policies and attitudes here, I hope I will always value observing the truths of others over amassing an audience for my own unevolved opinions. A thing that I think distinguishes the various bloggers and authors on all topics Indonesia is the capacity to admit that we are but foreigners looking in and don't have a place coming in to criticize another nation's system... As they say, my family may be messed up but I'm the only one who can say shit about them.

Beauty, although it may take a while to see, is equally accesible to everyone - travelers and residents alike. I try to imagine what the people who have lived around this their entire lives think of their natural beauty. I know they say Karawang is hot and has many rice fields and usually leave it at that but I wonder if for them they have internalized the beauty of the land they live, work and die on, all within few square miles' radius. There's transient beauty that you appreciate and a more spiritual beauty that you feel. Travelers and tourists may experience the first, people spending a short time somewhere might sense the second but only once you have a true emotional attachment to the land will you experience the third.

By traveling outside our comfort zone with an open mind, we serve a purpose. It's enough to just have the real experience and to lose yourself in the experience of others. Isn't obliterating stereotypes that all Americans have a lifestyle like Paris Hilton or that Indonesian Muslims are ultra conservative and hate the influence of Western culture an excellent purpose? Maybe you will also keep an evocative blog or channel your fresh perspective into some project your school or community might actually use. That's nice too. I can't speak for everyone but these are all reasons enough for me to stay.

 

*For a seasoned perspective on the Bali Nine executions see Elizabeth Pisani's recent blog post discussing the political atmosphere surrounding them).