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This summer I spent seven weeks in Lombok, Indonesia - the island just east of Bali. I had an unpaid internship with the Summit Institute of Development, an international research organization based in Lombok, and lived in Mataram, the main city on the island. I enjoyed Lombok and certainly learned and grew during my time there, but I didn’t love it; and that is something that I am grateful for. My time in Indonesia allowed me to reflect on my collective international experience and think more seriously about where in the world I would like to be in a year’s time.
Through Cornell’s generosity and a bit of luck I have been fortunate enough to spend 2+ months each in Australia, Kenya, and Indonesia over the last three years. Each experience varied drastically from the last, as the nations vary drastically. Australia is a high-income country with a classic western culture, Indonesia a middle-income country with a hybrid of Muslim and island culture, and Kenya low-income with a blend of East African tribal cultures. In Australia I lived with my family – my parents were on sabbatical in Melbourne. In Kenya I lived with a host family at an orphanage in the southwestern highlands. And in Indonesia I lived independently and rented a room in Mataram. In Australia I had virtually no responsibilities, Kenya I was a part of a community and family and expected to behave as such, but in Indonesia I was a full-fledged employee and resident – if only temporarily. The variety in experiences broadened my perspective and has allowed me to compare and contrast regions and cultures beyond just the basic categorization of “not America.”
In the last three years I have learned that I am adaptable – I feel comfortable that I could survive and potentially thrive anywhere in the world if need be – but this summer made me think more seriously about what conditions I want to adapt to. I can love and appreciate the culture, geography, and people but decide that it might not be a place that I would want to live long-term.
Mataram is a classic developing country city. The streets are filled with dust, miscellaneous vendors, motorcycles, a handful of cars and taxis, and the occasional horse-cart. Each morning my walk to work brought me past three mosques, a Balinese community, and ten to fifteen trash fires. Indonesia is one of the many countries that was formed artificially by its former colonizers, so you are more likely to hear Sasak, the local tribal language, spoken on street corners than Bahasa Indonesia, the national language. But only ten minutes out of town there are endless rice paddies, and ten minutes further, the Indian Ocean. In many ways Lombok is idyllic.
Unfortunately, Mataram has been experiencing recent socioeconomic and cultural tensions in Indonesia to a much greater extent than the rest of the island. Due to its natural proximity to Bali, the conservative Muslim members of the national and local government feel attacked and oppressed by Western culture. As a result they implement more rigid policies than they might otherwise to try to maintain the “purity” of Lombok. The religious tension in the city creates different social conflicts, and at times made it uncomfortable to stand out so blatantly – as an incredibly pale blonde girl I don’t blend in in most places. This tension and a lack of infrastructure prompt most tourists to circumvent Mataram on their travels to and from the Gilis or Mount Rinjani. Sadly, that just worsens the problem. It is much easier to distrust and dislike an entire population if you never directly interact with the parties in question. More so than in any of my other travels I received negative attention as a defacto representative of the West.
But the same faith that drove some locals to prejudiced and racist beliefs was an inspiration to witness in others. Having grown up a post-9/11 America a certain amount of distrust of devout Muslims is subconsciously instilled in most of my generation. This was something that I never recognized about myself until I moved to a country where I woke every morning at 4:30 with the first call to prayer. The nature of Islam leads to very few lukewarm Muslims; the community atmosphere and religious rituals of prayer five times a day and a whole host of conditions and restrictions require a greater level of daily devotion than most other religions. While I remain a comfortable catholic, I grew to deeply respect the devotion and the comfort of the Muslim community in which I was immersed. I have always felt firmly that religious freedom is something to be protected fiercely, but having had limited exposure to Islam in the U.S. I feel I can be a much better ally of the international Muslim community before – and that initial discomfort has disappeared entirely. And I can easily separate the extremists who resented my presence from the practicing Muslim community of Indonesia.
My time in Indonesia was valuable in a multitude of ways. However, the most noteworthy aspect to me was the realization that I truly can live anywhere, learn new languages, and adapt to cultural restrictions – but that it is okay to enjoy some areas more than others. As I go forward in my career in international development I need to decide when, where, and what battles to choose to fight. Anywhere you live comes with its own set of challenges – the U.S. included. But the ability to differentiate between the dynamics of different regions and the self-awareness to see where my strengths might best match up with a community is invaluable – and one of the greatest gifts my time in Indonesia gave me was a step in that direction.