I'm Homesick

“Now more than ever do I realize that I will never be content with a sedentary life, that I will always be haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere.” 

I'm an email addict. I crave the anticipation and excitement that builds with each special phone buzz that signifies a new message waiting. My fingers fiercely punch in my passcode to unlock my phone and open the email as though my life depends on it. Today however, is different. "AFS Travel Notification- Return" reads the subject line. My heart beats fast. I suddenly am unable to keep up with the rate at which my chest seems to want to rise and fall. 219 days worth of memories flood from every hidden corner of my mind. I put both hands to my eyes like magical shields, hoping they can somehow stop the tears that want to fall. I let the email sit, and still, it remains unopened. I'm homesick. With those few words, I'm homesick for this new home that I stumbled upon, and haven't even left yet.

Last July, I faced this same problem. As I drove through my mountains listening to Bon Iver, I silently shed tears as I thought of the imminent departure from my home. I was homesick. In my own home. And now, eight months later, I find myself facing a similar reality. 

I know it's been said many times, many ways... But I think the world of this place. I traveled far, far away from my home, only to feel like I never really left. My life has become one enormous paradox. I'm leaving home, to return home. I'm returning to the place where everything is simultaneously invariable, and yet downright foreign. The past 219 days have slipped through my fingers the same way the sand does at seashore. I so desperately want to scoop up my last 106 days, and lock them tight in a mason jar for me to hold forever. But of course, that's just not an option for me. As I stand on the brink of turning the page and writing a new chapter, I'm ready to go to war with this homesickness, and face it head on. I'm ready to embrace the pain as a gentle reminder of just how in love with my host country I've fallen, and just how much progress I've made thus far. As for the email, I'll let it sit for a few more days. No need to rush, ehh? 

Komunitas Menara- Giving Back

Bump, bump, bump. Our shiny, silver, Nissan Xtrail steadily progressed down the narrow, unkept, dirt road seeming strikingly out of place in the rural community. To my right was a small, open grass field with young children hanging from the remains of an old bus. To my left, sat an even smaller line of street stands selling a few basic necessities. Out the front window, was a semicircle of one-room, one-story homes that resembled the pictures of early houses I had seen in my history books. We had arrived. My four friends and I were greeted by a petite woman wearing a purple print dress, with her daughter shying away by her side. We were welcomed into their  home. One twin bed mattress on the floor. A child’s size lap desk. Walls decorated by the young girl’s Sharpie artworks. A small gas stove. And a pint-size bathroom in the back corner. In the ten by ten foot home, these were the things that first caught my eye. 

The young girl’s name was Annisa, and we had come to discuss the importance of her school. “Aku mau menjadi dokter.” I want to become a doctor, the young girl proclaimed without a hint of fear or hesitation. I smiled, because I knew that this girl was a powerhouse. Annisa’s mother began to give her testimony regarding the power of her daughter’s education within her family that under normal circumstances, wouldn’t be able to fund it. She contended that in result of Annisa attending school, her daughter had become more confident, self assured, and ready to chase her dreams. Her pint-sized daughter was excelling in English, Arabic, math, reading, writing, art, as well as effective social skills. Every word she softly spoke, left me feeling proud, inspired, and wanting to make a difference. What started as a YES Abroad project, quickly turned into much more than that.

Annisa’s school is a fully funded kindergarten created by the Komunitas Menara organization, or KM for short. KM was founded by one of Indonesia’s most prominent authors, Ahmad Fuadi. With the only goal of giving Indonesia’s impoverished children the opportunity to obtain a quality early childhood education, Fuadi built his first three KM schools. There are currently 30 million children in Indonesia aged 0-6, and less than half of these children have access to kindergartens. Let that sink in for a moment. That’s twenty times the population of my entire home state of Montana! 20 million children will never enter a school. 20 million children will never have the groundwork needed to establish a love of learning. 20 million children will never learn how to read, write, or obtain basic skills in math and science. 20 million children in the country that I now call home.

Indonesia has been nothing but welcoming and kind towards me. After being welcomed into the homes of strangers, offered free angkot rides, and given guidance as I attempt navigating this big city, I feel compelled to give back. I can donate my time, but Komunitas Menara needs so much more than that. With the ultimate goal of building 1,000 kindergartens, KM needs the financial support from you all. Nelson Mandela said it best when he said, “Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.” We are not only investing in the future of Indonesia’s children. We are investing in the future of our world. As technology advances, and travel becomes more attainable, many are realizing that our family is not limited to our own state or our own country. Our family is expanding far beyond country borders, and we are flourishing as an international community. Komunitas Menara can create an entire generation of doctors, engineers, writers, artists, researchers, and teachers. We can, and we will. It’s only a matter of time. Man jadda wajada.

*If you have been moved by the Komunitas Menara organization the way that I have, I encourage you to donate today! The campaign is now live here! Terima kasih banget, semua! Thank you so much, everyone!*

My Biggest Fear

“I fear oblivion. I fear it like the proverbial blind man who’s afraid of the dark.” Much like Augustus Waters from The Fault in Our Stars, I too, find myself fearing oblivion. I fear living in a world where the thoughts and concerns of the earth’s inhabitants lack depth, experience, and information. This puzzles me. If the 21st century boasts being the era of innovation, technology, and communication, then why despite all that, are the thoughts of many of my peers so similar? Why is the fight to reach each of society’s life milestones the sole focus of so many? We’re taught to graduate high school, do the minimal in college to obtain a degree, find a spouse from a homologous socioeconomic background, have children, and work a singular position for the rest of our life until our bodies are too frail to continue. Our vision becomes foggy. We can see where we want ourselves to be, but we fail to acknowledge the happenings in the lives of others. Today we lack experience, because society predetermines our experiences for us. We lack a desire to grow, because our growth is quantified by standardized test scores. We lack courage, because we are drilled that taking alternative paths is treacherous. And in result of that, we’re faced with oblivion.

Before this year, I too was oblivious. My world view stretched as far as Western Europe and my sole focus was to survive the monotony of high school. I knew there had to be more, I just wasn't sure where to look. Then I came to Indonesia. From being thrown into an alternative language, a peculiar climate, and a family who shares a religion and customs contrasting significantly from my own, this experience has opened my eyes in ways that I never would have imagined. My personal resilience, my ego, my beliefs, all have been completely pushed to the brink and back. And yet, I’m hooked. Each day as I hold conversations with women running food stalls or play with the children that flock to me, I realize just how aware of myself, and more importantly, the world around me, that I have become. 

Empathy. Compassion. Love. Knowledge. So many of these things are lacking in today's world. I urge the young people, and the old people, the engineers, the doctors, the teachers, the students, the men, the women, and everyone in between- explore more. Explore across the ocean in Namibia or New Zealand. Explore in your own neighborhood, and talk to the single father across the street. Explore science text books, classic literature, and Time magazine. Explore with language, with spirituality, with food, with nature. Break free from the wrath of oblivion, and explore. I promise it's worth it.

What I Learned in Dance Class

Traditional Jaipong Dance

Four years of dance instruction. Six years of competitive cheerleading. Seven years of living in Montana hiking and skiing. With those experiences in my back pocket, I thought that my first traditional, Indonesian dance class would be a breeze. Boy was I mistaken. I entered the room to find a delightful, petite woman who I presumed to be the teacher. I introduced myself with the phrase I had practiced in my head ten times over. “Halo, Ibu! Nama saya Mallory dan saya mau belajar tari Jaipong.” Without any introduction from herself and with a smiling face, (smiling is a stretch, I’m pretty sure she was smirking) she commanded me in Sundanese to start doing bizarre squat motions. It’s funny, really. The second I start thinking about how much my Bahasa Indonesia has improved, someone starts yelling in Sundanese. As my awkward American stature performed my uncomfortable squats in front of this menacing woman, I knew it was going to be a long two hours.

Strange hand movements that resembled flailing butterflies. Uncomfortable squatting positions that went against the laws of gravity. Ominous stares and scoldings from the petite master. Repetitive toe taps. Countless chest thrusts. And plenty of puzzled faces from myself. Two hours of this nonsense had passed at a glacial pace, and as my legs were uncontrollably quivering, I was feeling defeated and worn. When the clock struck six, my new teacher finally gave in and spoke normal Bahasa Indonesia. “Kamu bisa belajar tari jaipong dan kamu sudah jago! Semangat!” (You can learn jaipong and you are already very good.) With the biggest smile I was capable of giving, my confidence went soaring the roof.

I’ve returned to dance class three times since that first day. In the six hours I’ve spent with the pint-sized woman,  I’ve been taught lessons that cannot be sought elsewhere. Her language of choice, I’ve realized, is not Bahasa Sundanese. Her language of choice is the way her body moves- The way her high eyebrows skyrocket, and her face tightens when I’m just not understanding. The way her eyes beam when I finally do. The way her body glides across the floor as she relishes in the fact that she’s alive and well. The way her compact frame pulls me into a bear hug with the conclusion of each class, expressing her satisfaction with the unexpected bule. I may not know the complex language of Sundanese, but I do know the language of human interaction. And when you’re an exchange student, that can make all of the difference.

Media Vs. Muslims

Trench warfare. Machine guns. Atom bombs. When it comes to weaponry, the world has made significant gains in the way we fight wars. However, within the past 20 years, a new weapon has emerged- Mass media. In the wake of the 9/11 tragedy, Muslims from every corner of the Earth have been unjustly used as scapegoats for many of the world’s conflicts and tragedies through media. How many news broadcasts have you heard begin with, “Muslim Fundamentalists responsible for bombing,” or “President Barack Obama suspected of being Muslim?” as if being a Muslim could be the worst possible offense?  Mass media has attacked the religion as a whole- providing fuel for people’s misguided fear and hate of this “unknown and strange” faith. Doesn’t this all seem a bit ironic? In the era of communication, people are still struggling to understand and respect each other.

“In terms of stereotypes, I think Muslims are like any other religion on this earth. We have religious, not-so-religious, extremist, and something in the middle. Just because the media likes to spice things up, people keep swirling around the extremist and the terrorist. While in truth, there are many good, fun, humorous Muslims out there, just like there are a lot of many good, fun, humorous Christians, Buddhists, etc.”  -Age 22

“Islam is not a religion of violence and all of the bad things people think it is. It is a religion of peace and submission to God. And nothing, not a single verse in Quran states that we should kill innocent, non-believers. The terrorists are just people that are misguided and use the name of faith to justify their deeds. They are criminals like all other criminals of any other religion. Nothing in Islam states that they will go to heaven or be rewarded for their act.”  -Age 21

Hear that? There is not a single verse in the Quran that says innocent people should ever be killed. What it does say however, is that Muslims are allowed to fight back against those who attack them. “Fight in the cause of the  God those who fight you, but do not transgress limits; for God loves not transgressors.” (Quran 2:190) HOWEVER, it is also clearly stated that if the other party is not using aggression, then it is absolutely unacceptable to use aggression towards them. “But if they cease, let there be no hostility except to those who practice oppression.” (Quran 2:193) The truth is, many Muslims are accepting of other practicing religions. Every human life is scared, no matter what religion they practice- And all must be free to worship God in whatever setting suits them best. “There is no compulsion in religion.” (Quran 2:256) 

I have also often heard the phrase “Holy War” thrown around on TV, in movies, and in books. I’ll let you in on a little secret... There is no such thing as a “Holy War” in Islam, nor are such words ever written in the Quran. What many people often get confused about, is the word jihad, which literally means to struggle in the name of God. Jihad does not solely apply to war! We all struggle- Whether that’s with resisting temptation, or not saying unkind words, or doing things selfishly. In hindsight, even making the decision to study in university could be considered jihad, because though it’s a struggle, it’s the right thing to do in the pursuit of a better life. All the while, keeping in mind that God is the one who graciously allowed you to do that.

The problem goes beyond just the news. Muslims are also often depicted negatively in Hollywood movies. In over 900 American films, the vast majority of Arab/Muslims characters have been completely twisted (Jack Shaheen survey.) Depictions of daily life include reciting Quran all day long, telling children to die in the name of Allah, and treating women as second class citizens. I live with a Muslim family, and I can promise you that none of these things happen. My family is most commonly found engulfing Domino’s pizza, taking selfies, or perhaps watching a soccer game on TV. 

Media is great, and it is powerful. But with its great power, and nearly unlimited access to information, critical thinking is a must. If we are to make strides towards peace in the era of media, it is with this ideal that we must run with to the future. 

"America and Islam are not exclusive and need not be in competition. Instead, they overlap, and share common principles of justice and progress, tolerance and the dignity of all human beings." -Barack Obama

Man Jadda Wajada!

Man Jadda Wajada

He who gives all will surely succeed.

Speaking at the Man Jadda Wajada Training

Two weeks ago, I picked up a book from my host dad’s bookshelf titled, The Land of Five Towers. I read the brief description on the back, not completely convinced of if my need for a good read would be satisfied. But as it was the only book in English that I hadn’t yet read, I dove in. What I didn’t know then, is just how much this book would shake up my world. 

For two days, I had my nose stuck in the yellow paperback. I was along for the adventure of Alif- A high school, aged boy from the island of Sumatra who had taken on the journey of attending a pesantren (Indonesian Islamic boarding school,) instead of his ultimate dream of attending public high school.  His journey was not an easy one. He left the meager village he had lived in his whole life, leaving behind everything familiar, and made the voyage to the island of Java. He didn’t know a single thing about the school he would be attending. He didn’t know a single person who would be there. And he had no idea, just how big of an impact his new environment would have on him. Sound familiar? As I was reading this novel, I couldn’t help but feel like I was reading MY story. The lessons Alif was learning at MP, were the same lessons I had been learning here in Indonesia. Lessons such as valuing my education, pushing every limit I ever thought I had, the importance of excelling in languages, and the realization that a little spirituality can go a long way. (Side note- The story is actually based on the author’s real experiences!)

After finishing the novel- shaken up and moved in ways I had never experienced before- I ambitiously decided to try to contact the author, Ahmad Fuadi. It all started with a tweet, sending my praise for The Land of Five Towers, in a similar way that a preteen girl would fangirl over One Direction. Even though I wasn’t expecting a response, I at the very least had to try to share my appreciation. But, here’s the cool part- He responded! I insisted that if he was ever in Bandung, he had to let me know so we could perhaps meet and share stories. As fate would have it, he was scheduled to give the first ever Man Jadda Wajada training here in Bandung, and graciously offered me a free ticket. But the fun doesn’t stop there! I was also invited to speak in front of the crowd of 400 people!

Fuadi and I

After a sleepless night, I rolled out of bed ready for the long day ahead. I checked into the event, got my snazzy name tag, and took a seat among 400 others. The event started with luminous lights, a wonderful playlist, and a dash of dancing. The first speaker of the day was Harri Firmansyah- One of Indonesia's top 10 inspiring trainers. His ideas shook up the entire crowd- myself included. I was feeling so exhilarated I almost forgot that I also had to get up and speak. Next thing I know, I’m standing in front of 400 people beside one of the raddest humans I’ve ever encountered. Shaking in my shoes, I spoke of how I had always dreamt of living abroad, my journey of getting to where I am today, and everything I have learned thus far.

Signing a few autographs

After the first session, we broke for lunch. People from all kinds of different backgrounds approached me and thanked me for my speech! I went to the event prepared to be inspired, but I wasn’t expecting to inspire others! It was an incredibly gratifying experience to know that I had encouraged others to chase after their biggest dreams, as well.

“Man jadda wajada!” the audience roared. Voices boomed. The room rumbled. And a spark inside me was ignited. After countless photos, smiles, and happy vibes, the event came to a close.

The day was nothing short of a success. People from different organizations approached me with offers of joining their organizations, attending their events, and I even had an offer to speak again! I met countless outliers who have big plans for their futures, and even bigger hearts. In the end, I left the event on cloud nine. I’m ready to go full force at all of my crazy dreams, and am fully equipped to help others achieve theirs. Man jadda wajada, my friends. 

A big terima kasih to Bang Fuadi! If you would like to read his book, (And yes, you ALL should.) You can find it here on Amazon! Selamat baca!

My Indonesian Love Affair

Ladies and gentlemen, the rumors are true. I have fallen in love here in Indonesia. Let me tell you a little about this boy that has completely turned my world around. He visits me in my happiest of dreams. My knees become weak as my nose catches a whiff of his sweet scent. I crave him at every hour of everyday. I love the way he brings warmth to my lips. And on my worst of days, he always reminds me just how beautiful life is. My heart is perfect because he is in it. When the angels ask me what I loved most about life, I'll say him. He is, and always has been my dream. His name is permanently written on my heart, and I will stand in front of every human on this earth and proudly declare, "I love him!" His name is Indomie. And I'm deeply in love.

I'm sorry if I spoiled the fun for those of you who thought this was actually going to be about my love life but... Indomie deserves the hype. For you Americans and foreigners that aren't sure what Indomie is, let me tell you. Indomie is in short, a brand of instant noodles that are manufactured here in the motherland. Have you ever had Cup Noodles or the Ramen instant noodles brand? Well, everything those noodles are doing is wrong. Indomie is on another level. The noodles come in over 50 different varieties, all catering to the Indonesian palette. From Mie Goreng Rendang to Rasa Baso Special, and the most popular, the classic Mie Goreng Special, there's an Indomie for everyone! 

Indonesia is comprised of over 17,000 islands. Every one of these islands has a different culture, language, foods, customs, etiquette, and attire but despite all of these differences, there is one noodle brand that can unify the entire country. And that noodle brand is Indomie. Food stall workers, doctors, car washers, beggars, the Sultan, and even President SBY himself, all unite and relish in the delicacy that is Indomie. And it doesn't stop there. Indomie is taking the world by storm, and it can now be found in many countries outside of Indonesia. I have yet to see any in America but I've heard it's there if you look. And the best part? Here in Indo, you can pick up a package for about $.10. If you have a dime to spare, I would recommend dropping whatever it is you're doing right now, hopping in your car, driving to the nearest supermarket, and investing in a few packages of the deliciousness. When you come to the realization that Indomie is all you have ever wanted in your life, you can thank me later. Go forth my friends, and conquer that bowl of fried, instant, noodle goodness.