Kamu Bukan Orang Sini1 By Nadia Syahmalina My 17-year-old sister has not set foot in Indonesia since she was four years old. I see her struggling in trying to count the numbers in Indonesian, and I am reminded of myself. There was a point in my life where I had a hard time pronouncing "satu, dua, tiga, empat" which in English is "one, two, three, four". I still find it hard to even say "selamat pagi"2 sometimes, but I know that her troubles would far exceed mines because she is just starting out. I know that she would be hassled for having this impairment. People, it seems, find it hard to swallow that this girl who looks like them could be in anyway different. Their inability to understand is what usually brings out the worse in them. They start with asking questions, and when they find the answers unsatisfactory, they find other ways to satisfy themselves; and this is usually at the expense of the one being questioned. How do I know this? Because I had been the one questioned, the one at the end of gibes and mockeries. The sole reason behind all this is because I was different-internally. Being different on the inside is more hard to grasp because you can't really see it, and usually people judge you on your exterior features. Most of the things that I wanted to do with my friends that were foreign to them was answered with "kamu bukan orang sini, jadi kamu tidak boleh".4 So therefore, it was accepted if you were different physically, and it was appalling to some that one who looks so similar outwardly could be so different inwardly. My parents also had similar opinions all through my childhood. They usually never forgot to remind me of how different I was from my friends because they were not Indonesian. I was not an "orang sini"3 whenever I wanted to spend the night or go to a party at friends. I was not an "orang sini" whenever I wanted to date boys. Most of the things that I wanted to do with my friends that were foreign to them was answered with "kamu bukan orang sini, jadi kamu tidak boleh".4 As the years went by the invitations to parties and sleepovers slowly decreased, and my friends became afraid of inviting me to anything because I usually wasn't allowed to go. At this, I distanced myself from my friends and became extremely confused. My parents though, didn't seem to notice the change in my attitude, so they continued on with their remarks unaware of how belittling it was. They then added that my real friends would be in Indonesia, because Indonesians could understand me more. Confused and hurt I wanted to go to Indonesia and be an "orang sini", be among my "true friends", and just be accepted. I got the chance to go to Indonesia in the summer of 1997. I was a very eager person when I boarded that plane in Singapore. "In a couple of hours I would be home, "I said to myself. I kept checking the on-flight map just to see how close we were getting to Jakarta. As soon as the rice paddies (farm lands) below came to view, this up-till-now-unexplainable feeling came over me. When I stepped out of that plane and breathed in the air that was perfumed with the smell of wet grass and rice growing in the fields, I did feel home. I couldn't wait to meet my relatives and old childhood friends again, and especially make new lifelong friendships (just like my parents said). Everything was fine during the first few weeks, only after a couple of months had passed that I noticed something was not right. I longed for the smell of my house in the states and to gab with the friends that I had distanced myself from, but I shrugged this off as homesickness; and besides, I was "home" right? So I suppressed my longing and tried so hard to adjust to my new surroundings. It was never enough though, because no matter how hard I tried, I could never really fit in. Everything I did got a disapproving look and every word I said got a snicker or a smirk because it was odd to them how an Indonesian spoke or acted like a foreigner, some even found it insulting. I couldn't walk around my neighborhood without hearing whispers or catcalls. The cab drivers would look at me funny once I spoke even a "hello". They'd ask my mom or whoever was with me at the time, "Bu, nih anak kok susah amat yah ngomong. Mang dari mana sih?"5 My relatives were pretty hostile to me too because I disrupted their seemingly quiet life. Ini kan home saya, tapi kenapa aku gak merasa demikian?"6 I'd say to myself over and over again. I could never do anything right, and making friends was even more harder than I thought. Most parents were afraid that I would have a bad influence on their children, since I acme from a country that had an enticingly bad culture and reputation. I once heard a rumor that I was the cause behind a friend's present non-diligent behavior. The adopted belief among my neighbors was that I was "an unruly child with no manners". I then realized how much of an outsider I really am here, how I wasn't accepted at all. It hurt, it hurt a lot. This was supposed to be my "home", the place where I would feel like I belonged, but I didn't feel like I belonged at all, instead I felt the complete opposite. "What am I supposed to do, aku mo kemana lagi? Ini kan home saya, tapi kenapa aku gak merasa demikian?"6 I'd say to myself over and over again. I resorted to crying almost every single night because I was so confused. I wanted to go back to America, but in America I'm not accepted, well that's what my parents said. And I couldn't stay here, I wasn't accepted here also. I felt like I had nowhere to go, since I wasn't accepted in either of the two countries that I had resided in. After a year and a half in Indonesia of trying so hard to conform and almost succeeding, a twist of fate came and I returned to America. Did this solve my problem? Nope, it only added to it. I am very wary of how people acted towards me and I still remained very distant, maybe even more so. Someone summed it all up when he said that "I was here, yet wasn't here". My parents' words replay itself in my mind almost on an everyday basis. I could not understand what brought them to say those things to me at such an impressionable age. After many arguments and bitter quarrels though, I finally understood the reasons behind their actions. I realized that this all came about because they were afraid that I would lose my Indonesian heritage, forget who I was and where I came from. Their apprehension was increased by the fact that they were amateurs in this. They had no one to consult with about family matters, especially on how to raise children in a foreign land. So they reared their children the best way they knew how. After this moment of realization, I no longer harbor deep anger for my parents; now it is more like sympathy. They were trying their best after all. From all this I've concluded that you don't need to be almost mirror images of someone for you to be "kindred spirits" with them, and this dissimilarity isn't so bad nor is it a thing for ridicule. You do not generally need to be skilled in the native language to have pride in your country nor do you have to act like everyone else does over there to be proud of where you came from. That should not be what gives you pride, if it is then that is a false sense of pride, because true pride comes from within. There are many people who talk Indonesian fluently and eat bakmi and somay on a regular basis who aren't proud of being an Indonesian. In the end though, I think going through the rough and turbulent times was worth it. My parents realized their mistakes and now embrace a more open attitude towards strange and new things, and a communication line is now open between parent and child. What makes them better than those Indonesians who were born and/or raised out of Indonesia who DO have pride yet speak in broken Indonesian and eat pancakes and pizza almost everyday? Neither is this whole cultural conflict the fault of the parent who brought the child to a foreign land, this kind of assumption is wrong too. It's not their fault, it is just a risk a family has when emigrating or immigrating to another country. Cultures will clash, identity crisis will happen, it's just a matter of can a family handle it or not; and sadly for me, my family couldn't. In the end though, I think going through the rough and turbulent times was worth it. My parents realized their mistakes and now embrace a more open attitude towards strange and new things, and a communication line is now open between parent and child. They realize that maybe their children are also an "orang sini" as well as an Indonesian. And maybe because of my stay in Indonesia, my relatives won't be as hostile and my neighbors will have a more understanding attitude towards my sister when she goes there. Seeing her struggle with the numbers "delapan, sembilan, sepuluh"7 I sincerely hope so.   1 You are not someone from here. 2 Good morning 3 Someone here 4 You are not someone here therefore you can't 5 Mam, this child has a lot of difficulty in talking. Where is she from anyway? 6 "What…where am I supposed to go now? This is my home, but how come it doesn't feel like it?" 7 Eight, nine, ten Copyright © 2001 - 2007 SiaNews.org  All Right Reserved