International Food Fair with a Culture Clash

The four of us went to VEISHEA’s Cultural Festival and International Food Fair last week. It’s a good way to taste the globe in one day, without actually traveling. The admission was $3 per person or $8 per family plus 50 cents per food ticket. Most of the entree cost 4-5 tickets, while an appetizer  or dessert is about 3, and the drink is 2. Hosted at the South Ballroom of  Memorial Union, visitors need to pay the admission fee at the door. The food tickets were sold both outside and inside, and we purchased $20 worth of tickets. 

Countries representated were Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand, India, Japan, Brazil-Portuguese, Nepal, Chinese, Puerto Rico, Latin American, Egypt, Other African, Sri Lanka, Russia, and Argentina-Uruguay-Chile. Each country had a ‘booth’ and at least two items to sell. It’s a buffet style, so we got the food fairly quickly. The eating area’s big and nice, with a huge screen to display various video clips from each countries.

Even though the claim was to “Experienced food from around the world excellently prepared by International Student Council”, I knew better not to put our hopes high. Even though our little town has a lot of international restaurants with good food, doesn’t mean the international students could cook as good.

And I was right, unfortunately, starting off with Indonesia. Being an Indonesian myself, I was disappointed to find out that their only two dishes are not ‘presentable’. Their chiken rendang very soupy, almost like a lontong sayur, I thought it supposed to be like this. While their macaroni schotel was very dry and too salty. On the hand out flyers, the macaroni schotel cost  4 tickets, but one of the Indonesian girls told us it cost 8 tickets! Hubby told her, “I’m sorry but the flyer said it only cost 4 tickets.” The girl said while laughing weakly, “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” Hubby looked at me with eyebrows raised and I gave him the same ‘lool’. As we were walking away, he asked me, “What’s up with that? The Indonesian girl tried to rip me off?” I said, “She better not. Maybe she got the wrong info or something.”

Our favorites was the Koshary, an Egyptian dish which is a mix of pasta, rice, lentil, chick peas, onion, garlic, and some chili sauce. This may sound horrible, but it was delicious. My son Dante was eating it like crazy, he went for second, even. Indian’s tandoori chicken was always good, a bit too spicy but not bad. Like the Argentinian empanadas, unhappy with the Chinese hot pot. Satisfied with the Egyptian hibiscus tea and Puerto Rican fruit punch, astounded by Indian’s Rooh afza or rose syrup. Delighted by Russian torta de bolacha, intrigued by Brazilian pastel de forno.

As we were getting full, I saw somebody had a plate of something which looked very familiar to me. “Hey… it’s klepon!” I shrieked. My daughter looked at me, “It’s a what pound?” I grabbed her hand and said, “No, no. Not what pound. Klepon. It’s an Indonesian dessert. Funny, I didn’t see that at the Indonesian booth.”

So we walked around to find where this is sold. Amazingly, it was at the Malaysian Student Association’s booth. Except, they called it Onde Onde, although it looks as green as Indonesian klepon, also with dried coconut shred on it. How bizarre. Davi was in line and a guy asked her, “What would you like to get?” Davi pointed at the klepon (or Onde Onde, I should say, because it’s their version). The other guy then said, “Oh, the Onde Onde! Good for you. It’s truly Malaysian.”

[Click on the picture to get a better view]

’scuse me? Truly Malaysian? Not entirely true. Because that is also our (Indonesian)  klepon. And I will be adamant about my klepon. Don’t be ignorant. Just like they’re claiming that Rasa Sayange folk song, the island of Bintan, wayang, and angklung is theirs. OK, maybe this klepon vs onde onde thing is not as harsh as the previous clash. And maybe they’re just ignorant students who don’t have a clue that their neighboring country has something similar. I sure hope this is the case. Because I’m getting tired of Malaysia’s claiming everything that is not necessarily our, but we have it too, as their only.

Geez!

Congrats on Your Achievement. Now Let Us Embarass You.

When somebody is being recognized for her or his achievement, wouldn’t you think this person is going to be quite proud of it? Especially when an event was held in honor of this person so everybody could witness or share their proud moment; wouldn’t you think they would appreciate it if everybody’s in the ‘game’ and be nice about it?

To my surprise (or lack of cultural awareness?), people here like to ’smash’ the proud moment by ‘grilling’ the person. At first I thought it was a coincidence, because the people in our department are like that. A nurse -let’s call her Jill- was awarded with a special recognizition (a pin with a gemstone) for her 30 years of dedication working for the clinic. During the department’s meeting, my supervisor gave a nice long speech about her. After the pin was given (along with a formal letter), somebody said, “Alright, it’s now time to grill her.”

Three different person took turns in telling embarassing stories that happenned to Jill or she did unknowingly. Jill is a sweet person who, sometimes, say something that’s written out loud without thinking or censoring it. And she’s always on a fast mode. So one day, after zooming in and out rooming patients, she called out a patient by the reason why the patient was seen, instead of their names. Good thing it was for a sore throat. Couldn’t imagine what’d happen if it was for  STD check.

Still about Jill, the other nurse told a story where Jill had to return a phone call from a nursing home. I remembered that I was the one who talked to them originally, the nurse from the nursing home was so nasty and demanding. So on my note, I wrote ‘Pissy RN’ as the caller. Not knowing that Jill would be the one who’s going to call them back. Certainly not knowing that Jill would say, “Hi, my name is Jill with Dr Smith’s office returning Pissy RN’s call.” I was told that the rest of nurses at the back hall station were wowed by that and Jill had to frantically come up with an excuse when the ‘Pissy RN’ replied, “Excuse me?”

By the third story, I could see that Jill’s face was as red as a chilli pepper. She was covering her face while saying, “Oh my god…” so many times while the rest of us were laughing so hard. I felt guilty laughing at her, so I stopped; but no body else in the room felt like I did. It’s almost like a euphoria.

A month later, in a different occassion. Hubby’s department was throwing a semi-retirement party for one of his employees who’s been working for hubby longer than I’ve been married to him. Semi-retirement was emphasized because this neat lady, let’s say Eileen, retired from a full time job working under hubby’s department and got a part time job at a different department. Eileen loves to travel and was almost like a mother to hubby. She was a very loyal employee.

In this semi-official party that was set up in a nice restaurant setting, again the word ‘grilling’ was mentioned. Some employees at first asked hubby, as the head of the department, to give toast and speech. Hubby hated the idea because he hates being in the spotlight. But he told them he’d be willing to partake in the ‘grilling’. Hubby delegated the toast and speech part to somebody else later on. The ‘grilling’ part was never heard of for the rest of the night.

So what’s the purpose of the ‘grilling’ tradition? Is it just to make the event more fun and less official? Or could it be to ‘remind’ the celebrated person not to get too snotty with their achievement and to stay humble by reminding them about some embarassing moments in the past? What would you do if you’re the celebrated person? Would you keep your cool and not overreacted or get too embarassed? I probably would, but again, it depends on how much alcohol I’d consumed by the time they’re starting to grill me.

Ass+u+me Continued!

An aisle full of Indian products welcomes the family of four as they walk into the store. Rows of basmati rice, instant mixes, instant gravy mixes, packaged spices, pastes, chutney and sauces, roti, and much more were on display -neatly stacked- as they walk past the aisle. Like always, the Mother stops at the huge commercial fridge and looks through the glassy door, admiring the treasure in it: from halal meat and chicken, parathas, young coconuts, feta cheese, to frozen Jamaican patties and so much more.

She smiles and continues on. As she’s turning left at the end of the aisle, she finds her children squatting in front of the Middle Eastern collection, pointing at some products.

“Hey Mom, look! We have this at home,” says the Son.
“Those olives? Sure do,” replies the Mom.
“We have this too! Dad uses it all the time,” says the Daughter.
“Well, not all the time, honey,” the Mom says as she returns the Sultan’s brand of EVOO huge container back to the shelf.

“Hey, over here guys,” the Father calls.

Standing at the Kitchen, all the way at the back of the store, he points at a table of four with plates and silverwares ready to serve. The children run to it, try to pick their favorite spots to sit. The usual ‘I want to sit by Mom!’ was heard in a short moment, soon diminished when the Father gave them ‘the look’.

A tall Middle Eastern man comes out from behind the partition, smiles to see the family of four, and his laughter was booming. The Father approaches and the two men shake each other hands.

“Ha, ha , ha, good… you are here.”
“Sorry we’re late.”
“Ah, nonsense… you’re just in time, my friend.”
“Thank you for this dinner invitation. Very kind of you.”
“My pleasure. And how are you?” he asks the rest of the three, with a slight nod as he says it.
“Fine, thank you,” the Mother replies, also nods; not sure if the Middle Eastern man still practices the tabooness of shaking hands between two opposite sex.
“We’re really excited to be here tonight. Right guys?” asks the Husband, followed by three excited nods from the rest of the family.
“Ha, ha, ha, yes… he’s a very good customer. Not only he comes a lot for lunch, but also ordered to cater for his meetings,” the Middle Eastern man pats the Husband’s shoulder.
“And I’m always grateful for the leftover he brought home from those meetings,” the Wife quickly adds.
“Ha, ha, ha… good. I’m glad you like it too.” Then his tone of voice turns serious, “And thank you for hiring my son for your department. He has good future now.”
“Oh you’re welcome. He is a very bright kid. All I did was offer him the job and introduce him to the Human Resources. They interviewed him, and must’ve liked him, because he’s now one of my best tech.”
“Ha, ha , ha… you’re a generous man. Come… sit down, I will bring the food out now.”

What reached the cafetaria table first was not the food. It was the aroma of grilled lamb and fried onions. Eager, the Son asked, “How much longer, Dad? I’m starving!” The Father asked him to be patient and suggested, “Why don’t we go get some drinks from the fridge?”

He goes for ‘Ting’, a Jamaican soda, while the Wife grabs a young coconut juice. The kids were settled for root beer.

Soon enough, the Middle Eastern man comes out with plates on his hand. Lettuce salad topped with goat cheese and black olives plus pita bread with homemade hummus, was the starter. As he puts the plates down, he lowers himself and says to the Daughter, “Salaam.” The Daughter looks puzzled. The Mother whispered to her, “Just say Salaam back. That means ‘hello’.” But before the Daughter was able to open her mouth, the Middle Eastern man straight his self up, and boasts, “What? You don’t teach religion to your children?”

“No. I’m atheist and my wife is agnostic,” says the Husband calmly.
“But I thought you said she’s from a Moslem family?” pursues the Middle Eastern man.
“Yes, my family is mostly Moslems,” the Wife answers. “But I also have an aunt who married a Christian, then she herself became a Christian, and actually is now a preacher.”
“Hah! And what does your parent say about you being an agnostic?” the Middle Eastern man crosses his hands over his chest.
“Nothing.”
“OK. I will bring the rest of the food out momentarily,” the Middle Eastern man announced.

After the man left, the Wife gave the WTF? look to her husband. He shrugged.

Shortly later, the Middle Eastern man comes back with two plates of gyros with french fries, and two plates of grilled lamb chop with pita bread (to be eaten with the homemade hummus). After he sat the plates down on the table, he approached the Husband.

“So, I was at the lake last weekend. Fishing. All by myself. Guess what happened.”
“You caught a fish?”
“Ha, ha, ha, no. As I was fishing, all of the sudden, there was this fog. I couldn’t see through it. But then, as it got clearer, I saw a huge ship. Like a pirate ship. Can you believe that?”
Is this man trippin’?  thought the Wife.
“I don’t think that’s possible,” says the Husband.
“Why not?” snapped the Middle eastern man. “You think the Universe just magically appeared, not by God’s creation. Why can’t you except my story about the ship?”

At that point, the Wife decided not to pursue the argument and ignored it. But the Middle Eastern man continues his assumption and at that point, the Wife decides not to go back there often.

The Circle of Bribery

Just heard about the Indonesian businesswoman who was sentenced for five years in jail after bribing a senior prosecutor to drop a major emblezzlement case. What the hell was she thinking? A prosecutor? Kudos for the current Indonesian president, SBY, who is keeping his word as promised in 2004 to fight corruption. More details here.

Speaking of bribery, have you ever done one? As long as I could remember, I have not intentionally bribed  an ‘official’ before. I did not have the stomach for it, nor know how to do so. Not a police officer, not a government employee, nor the like. Even when I was actually asked by the ‘official’ himself [to bribe], I was not quite following the down low and just gave him a dumb look, “Huh?”

An example. Long time ago, when I was visiting a police station to get some kind of paper work to apply for a job. In Bahasa Indonesia, it’s called Surat Tanda Kelakuan Baik (STKB), which basically stating that I don’t have any criminal records and I’m a good girl. The officer literally said that if I could come back with a pack of cigarette for him, he’d have it done in 2 hours instead of making me come back the next day or two. Since I was in desperate need for that paper work, I did go find his stinkin’ kretek (clove) cigarette. Sure enough, when I came back 90 minutes later after eating road side ketoprak for lunch, it was ready.

Another example was when I applied for my first ID card or Kartu Tanda Penduduk (KTP) at a local sub-division administrative office (kelurahan). The person behind the counter who happened to look like an official (with his brown government uniform and all those emblems) told me that with some extra money, I could have it done on the same day. When I asked ‘how come?’ , the guy got somewhat offended (which I don’t quite understand). So I thanked him for the offer and said I was fine with the waiting time. He got really upset, “Ya udah. Kalo Ibu nggak mau dibantu, dan mau nunggu lama, terserah aja.” Which would be roughly translated, “Well then, if you don’t want to be helped, and prefer to wait a long time, go ahead.”

Indonesian police officer on the road is mostly notorious, especially in Jakarta. There are certain busy intersections that have too many policemen standing by, waiting for us to make a wrong turn, then whistled us. The scary one is Bunderan HI or the roundabout in front of Hotel Indonesia. I was riding with a friend, and her car was the very front in line at the stoplight. She nervously asked me, “Is this lane OK to make a U-turn? Should I not be on this one? Shit, it’s green! What should I do? Should I go ahead or keep going straight? Aww *bleep* they whistled me. Oh *bleep* here he comes!”
My friend is a very confident woman. Unlike in the US, the driver in Jakarta was OK to get out of a car to talk to the officer. And that’s what she did, after grabbing some money from her purse. I was actually the one who’s sweating and got my heart racing pretty fast. I saw my girl friend was trying to smooth talking the stern-looking officer. Later, I saw her reached something out of her pocket and put something on the officer’s hand so smoothly, it looked like they were shaking hands. The officer looked around to see if anybody’s looking, before he took the ‘thing’ from my friend.

I don’t know how this mentality became a habit for us Indonesians. Is it because we like to do it to get out of a sticky situation? Thus created a suply-demand circle with the authorities? Because if we don’t initiate uang pelicin or money offer to get the proposal get done quickly, officials won’t expect or hope for bribery. Just do it properly, follow the rules, you’ll get there. Eventually.

Ass+u+me. Why?

“Don’t assume. It’s just going to make an ass out of u and me“.

Still, they assumed. And it did take an ass out of both of us. They assumed I have the same believe like they do. They assumed I worship the same thing they do. They assumed I celebrate the same religious event like they do. I have been wrongly assumed for more than 8 years now. It’s getting tiring and frustrating. The first time they assumed, I thought it was innocent. I replied shortly, did not want to make a scene.

7 more days to Christmas long ago, fellow coworkers trying to make a small talk:
“Sooo, any big plans for Christmas this year?”
“Nope. We don’t celebrate it.”
“Ooooh.”
Awkward silence.

A year later, same situation:
“Are you guys going to church X or church Y for the mass this week?”
“Neither. We don’t go to any churches.”
Blank stare.
“We’re agnostic/atheist family.”
“Ah. Alrighty then.”

Couple of years ago, when we just moved into our current house, we were invited to a progressive dinner held by some people who live around our block. Done with hors d’oeuvres and coctails, appetizer course, and first course, we came to the fourth house for the main course. Done showing the house (just like the other three hosts), we then settled in for dinner. What do you know, the host offered to Andy (do you think it’s the real name?) if he’s willing to say grace. I looked at my hubby next to me with the ‘WTF?’ look. Everybody started to hold hands. He shrugged and gave me the ‘Are you effin kidding me?‘ look. As Andy was saying the dear-our-father-in-heaven-and-jesus-bla-bla routine, I gave hubby the look of ‘I am walking away from this’. How dare they. Nobody bothered to ask, “Would anybody mind if we say grace?” Hubby quickly mouthed, “Stay. Calm down. Please.”

Months after that, we received an invitation in our mail from the same group of neighbor. Andy and his family is hosting a Kids’ Bible Study in the Backyard. They do have the nicest backyard ini our block; meticulously-mowed lawn with beautiful garden patio and kid’s play house. They even put up a sign ‘Kids Bible Study tonight at [adress here] at 6:30 pm’ on the streets and intersection, like a ‘garage sale’ sign or ‘house for sale’ sign. From our deck, we could see probably 20 people attended. Our kids asked, “Are they having a birthday party? Why weren’t we invited?” I explained to my little ones about what’s going on. I was stunned when my daughter asked, “Do we have to do the Bible thing if we just want to play at the play house?” Yes darling, just like a misionary; you may enjoy or have something they provide or give, but you should listen or follow what they offer.

Days after that event, neighbors asked why we weren’t there. Our answer of “We’re not Christians. We’re atheist” was the end of it. No more invitations, no more phone calls, or even a hand wave when we happened to be at the backyard and saw each other. What makes me sad the most, our kids were shunned from playing with theirs. Usually my kids were invited by a friendly “Hey guys, come over here and play with my play swing” when they’re at the backyard. No more of that. One boy was in the same classroom with my daughter and she had invited him three times (called and left a message, wrote a note and put it in his locker, and a verbal invitation) to come to our house for a playmate or watch a movie. Never happened. All of this was because they assumed, was wrong, and we elected not to join their ‘thing’?

Also just recently, a coworker asked ”Cute sandals! Is that your church sandals?” 
Why would she assume that? Is it because the color was white? Do church sandals look like these? I did not purchase them from churchsandals.com, but from Plaza Senayan, a mall in Indonesia.

Fourth of July parade. We were sitting next to a 60 something year old couple. The wife said, “Nice to meet you all. Which church do you go to?” Of course, hubby quickly said, “We’re atheist.” She looked at him like “Oh I feel sorry for you” and stopped being nice.

Did I mention the number of forwarded emails I got from coworkers about religious stuff? Holy shit, there were a lot! Hubby once shared with me about some lady in the other department who was offended by his email reply because he mentioned something like, “… God knows if the Board would agree to it…”  She was so furious and wrote, “How dare you take God’s name in vain?” Sheesh, calm down already, lady!

But seriously, why do people assume that I have the same religious view like them? Is it because Christianity is the majority in the US? Or these people are just plain ignorant? “Don’t you assume in Indonesia that everybody is Muslims?” Mmm… NO. At least I didn’t. Five recognised religions in our country, which based on the 2000 census, approximately 86.1 % were Muslims, 5.5 % Protestant, 3 % are Catholic, 1.8 % Hindu, 3.4 % other or unspecified (source: here). Unless a person is wearing a religious clothing (jilbab or burka), I don’t assume that she’s a Muslim. I don’t go skipping merrily around and ask somebody to join me to go to the mosque. Is this because in Indonesia we are very straight forward on declaring our religion? In every kind of form or identification, you’ll be asked about your religion. ID card, new patient form, or even a memory book when we were little, there’s always that specific field to be filled: ‘religion’. Is this why we don’t assume [in Indonesia]? But United States, with its bombastic ‘freedom of believe and religion’, does it mean you’re free to assume?

Gah, it did bring an ass out of me. I’m bitching now.

Not Speaking English? That’s Rude!

Few days ago, as I was reading the local newspaper; fed up with news about war, crimes, natural disaster, and a sick old Austrian bastard and his little secret family, I read the ‘Dear Abby’ column for a change. There was a letter from a lady who appear to have a daughter in law mentioned as Carmella. This lady complained that Carmella and her family always talk in their native language in front of the lady and her American family. She thought this is rude and asked for some suggestions. 

Before we judge this lady as a snob ignorant bitch, let’s pause for a while. Imagine you’re visiting a country you’ve never been to nor speak their language. Wouldn’t you speak in your native language with your family or friends who come along with you? Did it ever occur to you that the local people might think you are being rude by not talking in their language?

Different example. A paranoid coworker of mine said the main reason she’s hesitant to go to a nail care center runs by Vietnamese (or other Asian ethnicity; but mostly Vietnam) was because, “Well, they talk in their native language to each other while they’re doing my nails. I think they’re talking about me.” I usually give her a big ‘Geez!’ whenever she complains but I think if I were her, I’d feel the same way too. 

When my mother and brother were here visiting from Indonesia, I tried my best to be a translator for the big family conversation. My parents-in-law were present too, and it’s kind of hard to try to translate everything my Indonesian family said into English, cause sometimes it’s just not that important to translate. Like for instance, my mom was commenting on how cute the dessert cake was to me. And my in-laws were like, “What’s that??” Then again my mom made a comment about a painting hanging on the wall, and again my in-laws jumped right in and said, “Hmmm??? What’s that?”  

So yeah, I did speak in Bahasa with my mom here and there when it’s just a casual talk.  I thought it’s more convinient since she doesn’t speak English fluently. I tried to be extra careful when somebody else’s around (not necessarily strangers), I’d translate too. I did not get any remarks on being rude at that point, but would they say it to me anyway? Or would they write to ‘Dear Abby’ instead like Carmella’s mother-in-law? Is it fair to expect people to speak the national language of the country they’re in at that moment? Then by golly, the French is not so snobbish after all!

If Two-Faces Baby Were Your Child

Why do parents put their kids on braces? Why do they want to spend a lot of money and time to make sure their kids’ smiles are perfect? When their teenagers are starting to have acnes, why don’t parents mind spending cash on dermatology products and consultation? Why are parents okaying their youngsters’ wish to switch the glasses to contact lenses? Giving the health-related answers would be very common, but let’s be frank: it’s to make them look good.

I’ll be honest. I had my mole on my face removed 7 years ago because not only it was noticeable, but it started to itch and growing in size. Again, health reason and look-awareness. Why did I agree to suffer multiple tooth extraction and braces tightening for 28 for months? Sure my dentist was concerned about my mouth being over crowded (I used to have 32!) and it was hard to keep them clean and decay-free. He also mentioned something about crossbite. But to be honest, I hated my crooked teeth. I tried to switch from eyeglasses to contact lenses, especially to go out socializing, but I hate poking my cornea. So then, back to eyeglasses to complete my dorky look.

When my 5 year old son was diagnosed with chronic hyperopia or farsightedness (difficulty seeing up close), I felt so bad. My boy has to wear glasses in such a young age?  I groaned. What if his friends make fun of him? I worried. Spending extra on ’hip’ glasses was our choice. Yes, I still want him to look good besides to able to see.

We all very cautious about how we look. Consciously or not. To ourselves, to our children, to people we care about. Sometimes we care about it too much, we judge people by it. When the Indian baby girl was born with two faces in mid March (read here), I deeply symphatized with the parents. Like the rest of the world, my first reaction was ‘Omg!’. Then as I followed the news, I learned that the father of Lali -the baby’s name, meaning ‘red’ because of her cheeks- had refused the doctors suggestion to have a CT scan to determine whether her internal organs were normal. He felt that his daughter is acting normally, therefor no need for the test.

Lali has an extremely rare condition known as craniofacial duplication, where a single head has two faces. Except for her ears, all of Lali’s facial features are duplicated -two noses, two pairs of lips, and two pairs of eyes. Regardless, her parents who are poor farm workers, think she is fine just like any other child. Even though Lali’s rare condition often linked to serious health complications, the doctors of Saifi Hospital in New Delhi saw no need for surgery. Reason being, she has no breathing difficulties. ‘Nuf said.

As I did more online research on Lali, I found out that some people’s reaction toward the treatment refusal is somewhat concerning. “Why would you as a parent do that [refusing]?!” a coworker exclaimed.

Others worried about the child’s psychological development when she’s growing up. If peers should giving her a hard time. If she’d be making fun of. But since they live on a rural India which is very superstitious and the fact that Lali is already hailed as a return of the Hindu goddess, maybe she’ll be okay. Some says she’s the reincarnation of Durga or Shakti. Living among people who think you have a god-like status is not so bad after all. The village chief wanting to built a temple on your behalf. Hundreds of people want to see you, touch your feet out of respect, and even offer money to receive blessings. Not a bad life, huh?  

I don’t know what would happen should this take place in United States, to an American. Would the parents undergo a surgery to ‘fix’ the baby? Look at Abigail and Brittany Hensel. Born 18 years ago, the conjoined twins are still inseparable and live happily with their mom who is a registered nurse and a carpenter/landscaper dad. The twins have made many media appearances and have a younger brother and sister. I think they have an amazing parents who don’t judge a book by its cover and love them unconditionally.

First Time In History, Catholic Is Not At The Top; Muslim Is

As I was reading the newspaper during my lunch break few days ago, the World News section mentioned: World has greater number of Muslims than Catholics: ”For the first time in history, we’re no longer at the top. The Muslims have surpassed us,” said Msgr. Formenti.

“Hm.” I thought.

And that’s it, no more no less. Although I was born and raised as a Moslem, I didn’t go ‘hooray’ after reading that news. Actually I thought, “Yeah, so what?”

Couple of days later, my iGoogle showed a news feed about the same subject. It was from Catholic.org and it appeared that Msgr. Vittorio Formenti, who heads the Vatican’s statistics office, thinks that the shift was because Muslims’ family have more children and are outpacing the average growth rate. He heh. I can’t help but sensing a little sarcasm there.

I personally do not have any vendetta on Catholic versus Muslim thing. My concern is, does the world know anything about Muslims? U.S. News & World Report March 24-31, 2008 edition has an article about ‘Inside the Minds of Muslims’. Dalia Mogahed, the executive director of the Gallup Center for Muslim Studies, did a survey and wrote a book, Who Speaks for Islam? What a Billion Muslims Really Think along with Georgetown University Prof. John Esposito. The book is based on a Gallup Poll, the largest of its kind, which surveyed some 50,000 Muslims in more than 35 countries.

Based on the interview, it seems that we [Americans] are no closer to understanding Muslims. Because Gallup did a survey in 2002, asking what Americans knew about the beliefs and opinions of Muslims around the world. Fifty-four percent said they knew nothing or not much. Same questions were asked in 2007, after two wars and more media coverage on Muslims, and this time 57 percent said they knew nothing or not much. When asked what they admired about the Muslim world, the most frequent response was “nothing”.

I’m curious about what do they think about us [Americans]. Mogahed answered that Muslims admire the West’s technology the most, followed by freedom of speech, the rule of law, and the transparency of government. They resented our democracy, perceived moral laxity and libertinism. Only a very small percentage of people in places like Iran and Saudi Arabia, said they admired nothing about the West.

The way I look at it, while answering ‘we admire nothing about the Muslim world’ is one’s choice and right, it does show ignorance. Do we not like it because: a) we know something but against it, or b) we don’t know shit anything at all…

Are Asians The Only Rude People?

How hard is it to teach politeness? Better yet, is it possible to train someone to be polite? The first question was intended to children as the subject. Should it mainly be the parents’ responsibility or could we rely on teachers to inject some politeness booster to the young ones? The second question was more aimed to adults. Is it doable to have an impolite person live with a polite family for a number of years, hoping for this person to change for the good? 

I also understand that politeness and the opposite -rudeness- belong to all skin color. Everytime I hear somebody said, “Asians are rude!”, my nose would fringed. Stereotyping a certain race really shows your narrowmindedness. Yes, my fellow Indonesians back home tend to unable to grasp the concept of ‘waiting in line’ or holding the door for elderly or women. While you’re waiting patiently in line for the cashier in a very nice department store, instead of waiting behind you, a lady ignorantly cut the line and stand in front of you. That is rude. But what about Americans who switched lane without signaling and got really close in front of your car? You slammed the brake and honked, then you got a middle finger flipped at you. That is rude, too. And what about the French who let their poodles poop all over the street? Oui oui… that iz rude!

Just recently, an unpleasant encounter at work was like a slap in the face. There were a 17-year-old Chinese boy and his father who caused a scene in the clinic’s waiting room. Long story short, the hot argument involved miscommunication between the father and us about the checking-in policy; added by a disrespectful attitude from the US-born teenager.

Boy: “So how long should I wait, again?”
Beth (52 y.o. receptionist): “As soon as one exam room is open, a nurse will take you back.”
Boy: “Well duh…” *smirked, turned his back and walked away* “I know that.”
Me (already boiling from previous argument): “Whoa… wow! Excuse me?”

… and the rest was even uglier. I was really surprised to see the teenager was disrespectful to someone who’s older. His intimidating body language and smart ass remarks were really uncalled for. And the sad thing was, his father let him get away with it. Supportive, even. I guess no parents like to hear [from a stranger] that their kid has an attitude, or a brat, even if it really is a fact. I had to call my department manager out to settle things down. But they were beyond consoling. A nurse finally took the teenager to see the doctor. Fifteen minutes later, they both walked out without saying anything.

Another patient (a ‘regular’) came up to us and said, “Wow! I feel so sorry for you guys. I thought Orientals are nice and pleasant. They were  rude.”

That comment hit me. I remeber a while ago, a 22 year old coworker said that Asian drivers are rude. Yeah… unfortunately we all hear about the stereotype ‘bad Asian women driver’. Other coworker told a story about her Asian apartment neighbor who would cook something ’smelly’ and shared the unpleasant aroma (to the Americans) around. “That’s very rude.”

Are Asians really rude? Is it possible because Asians lack the social skill expected in this country? My other thought was, probably because Asians are not used to it. Try to live in a city with 11 million population for a while; and hopefully you’d understand why we tend to hurry and forgetting our manners to hold the door for you, or formally say “Good morning. How are you? Same here. May I have the tall latte, please?” when ordering Starbucks along with the other twelve people behind me.

I’ve only been here for 8 years, yet my expectation has now been switched to the ‘American way’. Sometimes I hated it, because I got so frustrated easily when I go back home to Jakarta and unconciously expect everybody to be ‘polite’. But having stayed in the US -even if you’re just here studying- doesn’t always guarrantee you’ll be a polite person. I happen to know the owner of the Indonesian restaurant here in Ames. They’ve been here for about 20 years, yet they are borderline in politeness. They can be really rude by asking how much money we make in a year, or asking us to be a business partner and to inject some cash.

Cultural differences, social status, and language barrier are probably the main reasons of why people were called rude or impolite. Also to keep in mind, one’s expectation of politeness is different to the other. While I think it’s a 50:50 chance to ‘train’ somebody to be polite, it’ll be easier to teach politeness from the very young age. Parents, teachers, or daycare providers, are all responsible.

Stomach of Steel

Being born and raised in Indonesia, I have the stomach of steel. Meaning I’m used to eat any food that’s been left out (and cooked, of course) for more than a couple of hours without getting sick. Before you say ‘eeewww‘ and crinkle your nose, hear this out. Since we were kids, we’ve been fed food that’s been on the table or cupboard for a while, after it’s being cooked. At home, school’s cafetaria (kantin), and small local restaurants or the street vendors. We were ‘introduced’ to bacteria at such a young age.

Having lived in the US only for 8 years, my intestines were being pampered with the better hygiene that they have here. When I flew back home to Indonesia in 2006, I had a mild diarrhea at the end of my trip. I was hesitant to go to my favourite food street vendor in Jakarta (Sate Ayam Pondok Indah), but I was longing for it and even had a dream about it. But my stomach of steel had helped me going through eating in other countries’ road side food.

The only ‘bad’ thing about it is; I tend to forget that some people don’t have the stomach of steel and they tend to be very cautious to go anywhere in the world that is less ’safe’ and ’clean’ as the US. Working in a medical clinic who also provides travel medicine service, I came across a lot of travellers who are hesitant to go to a ‘poor’ country. Our travel clinic provides pre-travel counselling, immunization advice and delivery, and also immunization certificates (yellow fever). Before I work here, I didn’t know that there is such thing as travel clinic. I didn’t know that yellow fever vaccination is required for countries like Brazil, Paraguay, Angola, and some others.

Personally, I have nothing to worry about to go to places like Mexico or the Caribbeans. I’ll be fine eating their food and won’t fuss about vaccination. But this is not the case for others. Even the most touristy places are questioned by them,”Is there any vaccination needed for Playa del Carmen, Mexico?” 

My smart-ass state of mind would blurt out, “Duh… no. It’s a touristy destination, just like going to Miami, Florida.”

But fortunately I was able to bite my tongue and keep my manner (otherwise I’d be fired by now). The ones that I couldn’t comprehend are, “We’re leaving to Tokyo then Singapore next month. Do we need any vaccinations?” and “Do you guys know if I need to worry about the water condition in Dublin, Ireland? Should we get a typhoid injection or prescription before we go?“

As an avid traveller myself, I’d go places in a heartbeat if money and time aren’t the issue. That’s why I sometime tend to advise patients not to hesitate to travel and not to be so worked up about vaccinations. Just last week, a 60-something old lady called because she’s  travelling to Peru with her husband but was too freaked out when she find out 2 or 3 different vaccinations are needed (plus a malaria prescription). I spent 20 minutes on the phone consoling her. 

“Oh my goodness gracious. Hepatitis A, typhoid, yellow fever, and malaria prescription? Oh this is too much. And I need to have this 3 weeks before leaving? Oh my word… we’re leaving in a week. The travel agent said I won’t need anything,” she said all this in one breath!

Then I explained to her, depending on which area she’s visiting in Peru, she might not need the yellow fever or malaria. She then asked me to hold on while she’s looking for her printed itinerary from the travel agent. I usually am the one who put callers on hold, not the other way around, he he. After a while, she’s finally back on the phone and read me her itinerary from Day 1 to Day 4! Double checking with the CDC website, I was sure that she’s not going to need malaria and yellow fever. Then she questioned what’s the use for Hepatitis A vaccine for. I explained that it’s for precaution for virus which is most commonly transmitted by the fecal-oral route via contaminated food or drinking water.

That’s when she panicked, “Oh no… this is not good. I don’t want to go to a poor country and get sick. Oh my, I better tell my husband I’m not going.”

I felt really bad for her. I told her not to worry because she’s staying in an Americanized hotel; not in a local home. Just don’t drink tap water. Then she went on and on about the quality of the lettuce of the salad which probably would be provided by the hotel. I told her not to worry so much, just enjoy Peru and go to to the Macchu Picchu. This is where I was thinking for myself. I was wanting to scream, “C’mon already, just go. Don’t fret so much. I’ll go if you don’t want to.” But I didn’t. I understand that for some people, ‘differences’ could be very scary. Just like James Michener, an American author, said: “If you reject the food, ignore the customs, fear the religion and avoid the people, you might better stay home.”

… and she did.