Holy Matrimony

First, an apology. It has been much too long since my last post, but apologies are best demonstrated with actions rather than words, so allow me to fix my mistake with a double post.

To begin, I have come to the startling realisation that I will be finishing my contract in just four short months, followed by an exit interview and final report that will take a week or two. I am, in fact, more than halfway done with my time here and I will soon have to face up to the rest of my uncertain life. I'm not looking forward to planning out the next five to ten years, but I can't hide too much longer from responsibility and adulthood. Being in such a different place has been challenging in different ways from the classroom and the lab, and I don't want to leave that part of myself behind no matter what I decide to do. For me, the college classroom tested my ability to chew through information and performance was based on how well you could pick up complex material and use it in a defined and concrete way. Performance in the laboratory was based on how well you could follow a complicated set of instructions. But performance in Malaysia is radically different. It's based on adaptation, learning the language, understanding customs, and having the personal strength to confront and deal with very delicate problems. For example, how do you encourage students to speak English when their friends and family sometimes view studying the language as forsaking their own values for a new and foreign set? I have literally seen this at my school. One student, we'll call him Ralph, came after school to try and get some extra help in his English class. We went over Ralph's papers, fixed a few mistakes, and went on to have a very simple conversation. To practice, I taught him how to play chess and made him describe his moves to me in complete sentences. He seemed to enjoy the exercise and got the hang of it in a few minutes. When a pack of his friends saw what he was up to, they yelled "mat saleh celup!" in his direction, which basically means a fake white person. I could tell he was hurt, but how do I explain to him that his friends were wrong and that mastery of this language was essential in getting access to a good college education? How do I tell him to ignore his friends when all the poor kid wants to do is have fun and be accepted. Remember how hard high school was? Remember how important the acceptance of others felt? Granted, we all felt the tension of academic success versus social success, but the clash of two different cultures adds another dimension of difficulty for many of my students. Especially when many parents don't encourage their students to speak English, regardless of what the government or the schools say. To them, English just isn't part of being a true Malay.

Being here is also challenging in wonderful ways as well. We in the United States are sometimes born and raised to believe that America is the best nation in the world. That we are the most powerful, have one of the highest standards of living, and have more personal freedoms than almost any other nation in the world. Maybe. But that doesn't mean that we can't learn anything from other cultures, races, and ways of life. Being part of a world community is something that I think many Americans find difficult to understand, especially since true exposure to other cultures can be rather infrequent and at times superficial. Eating at a Chinese restaurant, for example, does not count as exposure to another culture in my book. I mean, really living in another culture, looking at its religion, language, rituals, and attitudes. How often is that opportunity presented? How often do you hear another language in Ledyard, Connecticut?

On the other hand, those kind of things jump out and surprise me here, and sometimes I'm nowhere near ready for them. Almost a week after I arrived at my school, one of the teachers, a wonderful lady with the aura of a fairy godmother, kindly invited me to her niece's wedding. I was surprised and honoured and I of course accepted, even if I had no idea what to expect. When I arrived, however, I felt completely out of place. I was the only one wearing Western-style clothing, the only white person, and the only person who didn't speak the native language. The woman who had invited me appeared out of the crowd and showed me around while introducing me to her family and friends. While I doubt that many understood English, they seemed pleased to have me there. I was seated, fed delicious food, and was in the process of enjoying some live Arabic rock when the drums started.

The bride and groom had arrived. They proceeded from their car with a huge procession of family and drummers behind them and approached the house hand in hand dressed from head to toe in matching shiny blue outfits. They looked like royalty from centuries past. They sat on a small stage and allowed themselves to be photographed for nearly thirty minutes. After that, the blessings started, and to my surprise, I was asked to give my consent to their marriage by sprinkling water, rice, and herbs on their upturned hands. Also to my surprised I was asked to eat again, but this time as a guest of honour with the bride and groom as well as several others from their wedding party. The groom and his best man were from Saudi Arabia, so I had the privilege of sharing a meal with quite a multicultural little group. Although I still felt out of place, I was so touched by the hospitality of this family that I lost myself in the food and conversation rather than paying attention to my own awkwardness. With such treatment, the thought of one day leaving this place is less and less appealing.

As for the second post, I'm afraid what follows will be a rather random string of experiences with no real coherent theme and a couple accompanying pictures. I'll save something substantial for when something substantial actually happens. I have three weeks of leave coming up where I plan to travel all around the country and see some really different things. As for now, however, I'm afraid mediocrity will have to do.

Last Wednesday was teacher's day (Selamat Hari Guru!) and instead of having classes all day, I instead had a blast. I first got severely humbled in a game of ping pong, and almost as a consolation prize was given a bunch of gifts from some of my students. I got a flower or two, a keychain with the school insignia, several small bags of baked goods, and a few notes with wonderfully sentimental messages. The most fun, however, was getting chance to act in a short skit that one of the other English teachers and I concocted in about fifteen minutes. I dressed up in a traditional school uniform, complete with a funky hat and a tie that was way too small for me, and played the Naughty Student. I don't think things like this happen very often, and students and teachers alike seemed to laugh heartily about it. I played the part completely in the local dialect, a surprise for those who thought I could only speak English, and wound up getting caned by the teacher in the end. I know I had a blast, and I think the whole thing will leave an impression on the school for quite some time.

I've also started studying Malaysian martial arts, called Silat, and plan on performing sometime next month. I'm a little nervous, as I don't think a white guy has ever performed in this particular demonstration, but also because want to do the art justice. I'm working on this dance thing that's supposed to teach me all of the different ways I can balance and defend myself, but whenever I try and perform, I feel exactly like I did at my first middle school dance: awkward, out of place, and totally not the right height. I still need to buy a uniform and learn how to actually fight, but regardless of what happens I'm having fun learning. I think Silat has remained relatively obscure compared to some of the other Asian martial arts like karate and tae kwon do since there are no real movies that feature this fighting style, but that makes learning it all the more interesting. Perhaps useless, but still fun.
I've also started cycling quite often with a racing bike I bought not too long ago. I try and put away between sixty and seventy miles a week with a group of teachers from the area. Of course, I spent about five hundred U.S. on my ride and they've spent almost three thousand on their bikes, but its ok, we all keep up with each other and have a good time. We ride all throughout the countryside through rice paddies, swamps, and jungle and still need to bring a camera with me to take pictures of the beautiful scenery, but all in good time. And I refuse to wear the spandex shorts.

Well, that's all for me for now. Again, sorry for the delays, but I hope it was worth it. And thank you very much for reading!