07 April 2010

Kurang Ajar.

Dear Family,

I wrote you letters and so suddenly I have nothing to say. So I am writing what comes to mind at the moment, which is a short language lesson.

I like a lot of Indonesian response-phrases, the quick one-liners you can throw out in response to any situation and cover all ground. Like masak sih? Or Ahduhahduhahduuuuuuh! And Ya, sudah. But maybe my favorite one of all is the million-uses, say-it-like-you-mean-it Kurang ajar.

It doesn't have any direct kind of translation into English (and really, I'm starting to wonder, what Indonesian does?) but is built on the word kurang, meaning "less, deficient, lacking" and the root word from the verb diajar, which is "to be taught." Put together, you get something along the feeling of "you (or we, or they, etc) weren't taught enough"—which can be applied to anything from table manners to a practical joke. Sumarno used it when she opened her BR to find Meek had switched her head to a giraffe's body. Simanjuntak, flinging herself across her bed in dramatic despair last week, used the phrase like a curse when we explained to her that Sister Halverson's invitation to the Balekambang beach on April 1st was, in fact, an April Fool's joke. SisLily and I use it in reference to Indonesians who have whole-heartedly embraced the technological revolution with no care for textiquette. But that could probably be a whole email in itself, so I digress. The point is, we use this phrase a lot.

Especially when it comes to Indonesian men. In general, they are harmless. I am immune to their "Hey mister! What's your name?" catcalling, though I would be happy if I never had to hear it ever again in my life, too. I am used to being an oddity, a white girl in the first place and then one who speaks Indonesian, besides. That is all okay. I understand I am different here and for the most part it is not a problem and sometimes it is a plus, as illustrated in last week's photo journal of our foray into the dolphin ring. But at least once a week, some new Indo Man merits our kurang ajar!, said with not a little spite and a heavy dose of incredulity. Because since when was it ever okay for anyone anywhere to pull the stunts they do? They follow us down streets. They ask about boyfriends, family situations, potential marriage proposals. They sit too close or grab for your hand to hold or ask for photos or don't ask for photos and take them anyway, throwing an arm around you when you're not looking and oh! sometimes it makes me want to scream. I think it was Jordan who once wrote to me about the unwanted attention from members of the opposite sex on missions. It's the only trial of our work with no redeemable qualities, he said. Aminlah.



Have I told you yet that, once a week on Tuesday afternoons, we teach English to the nuns of St. Alma at Bhakti Luhur? I love it, from simply being able to teach English right down to the very idea of it—we Sisters in our name tags sitting across from the Sisters in their wimples. And they themselves are a sight to behold, the lives they live and the how they live it. Yesterday Sisters Cecilia and Valentine invited us over for lunch after the lesson, a little plate of nasi kuning and ayam goreng on a simple table in a sparse room of their dormitory. I am glad for them; for their company, their goodness, their sacrifice. Plus, they pray! They read—and study—the scriptures! They center their lives on Christ. It is humbling and uplifting and hopeful to see.



In Malang there is one permanent mission couple, an Elder and Sister Halverson that have been serving here for the last eighteen months. While technically proselyting missionaries, they don't know the language, so a lot of their service has been in befriending neighbors or organizing branch projects, camps, and activities—plus teaching five English classes a week at Bhakti Luhur, a school/orphanage/rehabilitation center of sorts run by the Catholic Sisters of St. Alma's here in Malang. At Bhakti Luhur they take in all the discarded, the unwanted, the unclaimed; a haven for disabled children from birth to adulthood. The Halversons have worked miracles within the foundation and yesterday let us in on a little bit of the magic—as the Halversons head home next week, they held one final farewell bash at their club house pool for all their students, plus the nuns. End result? An all-out afternoon of the unexpected, exhilarating, and eternal.


So. Malang continues to be something of a tropical Paradise and also unnaturally clean, kind of like film sets from the 1950s—-you know, where the sunsets silhouette palm trees in never-ending color and street scenes are lit a little too strategically? SisLily and I discuss Gospel Principles while quoting Galaxy Quest and translate Conference Talks for language study, much to the detriment of our pride. Tonight the daughter of one of our investigators is getting married and we've been invited to the traditional Javanese ceremony. Sunday I translated the Halverson's farewell talks for the congregation, which went really well right until Elder Halverson decided to tell a story about educational statistics and state legislature in Wyoming about halfway through his testimony. Good thing this Branch and I have already learned how to laugh together.

We have quite a few investigators, but none willing to change or grow or become if it means rearranging their lives to allow for Christ's Redemption. It is discouraging but also eye-opening and, though no one else seems to be wanting the light we bring, I find myself receiving new knowledge, understanding, and fortitude in abundance. It doesn't seem fair, being allowed to become like this when so many seem unable to take even the smallest falter of a first baby step towards All Good Things (can everyone please read Moroni 7 right now? And know that this Church is True?) but I am grateful for and aware of the Lord's plan for me, a plan that included this Indonesia and therefore this opportunity to prepare for the so much more that is in store for me, and for all of us. The best is yet to come.

I love you.

E.

p.s. Why is avocado used like a vegetable in America? Why has no one caught onto the idea that it should be a fruit, and therefore good for juice, too?

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