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To learn any language you must
inevitably absorb some of the history, culture and social attitudes of
the country.
“Belum” in Indonesian simply
means “not yet” in English. Right?
I have been working in Indonesia
on and off for over 20 years, lately in Makassar. At the beginning, the
locations were outside of Java, in Eastern Indonesia, on foreign
loan-funded agricultural infrastructure projects. These were mostly out
in the rural areas, so there were few foreigners to talk to and learning
the language was essential for me to be effective in my job, and to make
friends and enjoy my life. I did it slowly and steadily, but with great
enthousiasm, learning as I went along.
After all of this time, I have
become fond of Indonesia, Indonesians and Indonesian. Everything the
reader with bad Indonesian experiences wants to bark about it being a
corrupt, violent, lawless, degenerate, gangster-ridden semi-country on
the edge of disaster has to be admitted, but it is just not generous
enough about the mysterious, endlessly fascinating Indonesia of my
experience. I have made many friends in Indonesia, particularly in
Makassar, and somehow found a way to endure the extreme frustrations
that can send westerners nutty, mainly because I felt satisfied in
seeing poor rural people improve their lives through the projects I
participated in. Makassar is an example of all that is good and bad
about Indonesia, with sea, mountains, teaming hordes of people, history,
ethnic divisions and, lately, a vice President of Indonesia.
In learning the language, I had
early troubles with “otak” and “otot” because I always mixed them up. In
the sugar factory, I would go round checking on concrete pours and would
regularly laugh and grumble to Indonesian workers (in Indonesian) “You
have to use your brains” when they were doing something that was clearly
wrong and needed doing again. I would point at my head to emphasize the
point and they would nod and seemed to understand. It was a long time
before anybody would tell me that I had mixed up the word for brains (=
otak) with the word for muscle (= otot) and they thought it was hilarious
that Englishmen had muscles in their heads where Indonesians had brains!
A classic error that new
learners of Bahasa Indonesia make, involves the word “malu”. Many
Indonesian words are based on a root word which may be a noun,
adjective, verb etc., which can be extended into an associated word
(verb, adverb, noun, adjective etc) by adding “ke”, “peng or meng”,”me”,
“di”, “per”, “ber” etc. at the beginning and possibly something at the
end like “an”,“kan”, “ken”, “i” etc. For example “hutan” is a noun
meaning forest, while “kehutanan” is the word for forestry and
“penghutanan” means forestation. Similarly, the Indonesian word “malu”
is an adjective meaning shy or embarrassed, and by extension “memalui”
means to embarrass and “kemaluan” should be a noun meaning
embarrassment. Should be, but it’s not. So, the students of the language
maybe get to make their first speech to a group of their Indonesian
colleagues after a few month’s studying, and of course they always start
with a comment about their modest progress in the language, and to
please forgive any mistakes. They start with “Saya (I) punya (have)
kemaluan (embarrassment) besar (big)”. That usually sends the Indonesian
listeners into cataclysmic squeals of laughter with the speaker looking
perplexed and red. Why? What did he do wrong? The construction is all
technically correct but “kemaluan besar” has a special meaning which you
just have to know. It means “private parts”, so he had just announced to
everyone that he has big private parts!
Reflecting the differing
emphasis demanded of language by culture, there are many words and
phrases in Bahasa Indonesia that have no direct equivalent in English.
For example, Indonesians are more conscious of family ties and have
special words for them. The words “kakak” and “adik” mean older/ younger
sibling, “bungsu” means the youngest child in the family, and “baisan”
is your son- (or daughter-) in-law’s parents. Another example is the
many words for rice, which is very important to Indonesians, and many
would say they cannot feel satisfied until they eat rice at least once a
day, no matter how many hamburgers they eat. Thus, Indonesian has “padi”
(on the stalk), “gabah” (unhusked grains), “beras” ( bought in the
market ready for cooking) and “nasi” (cooked rice).
Somebody once described “the
East” as a warm, wet fog-blanket thrown over you when you arrive and
taken away when you leave. When I go on leave to UK, I have usually been
way long enough to shake off the wet blanket and return to my English
life, and the two worlds are so different that it is hard to remember
what real life is like in the other place. I lose sight of the
frustrations and disappointments in Indonesia, the slimy tropical
weather and the stinking ugly, crowded, traffic-choked towns and cities.
I just remember the gentle smiling polite people, the beautiful sunsets,
and the almost non-stop laughing and joshing. After a few weeks in UK, I
usually miss Indonesia, and coming from the airport in Jakarta after the
long flight, I long to get back, but where does “real” Indonesia start?
Not on the flight. That is neither one nor the other. Not in the
international airport, even with the taxi touts and the pen sellers. Not
in the taxi, because Blue Bird airport taxi drivers are usually polite,
professional, bright and sharp, ready to deal with foreign passengers. I
look for the moment when the fog-blanket drops over me. One time, it
started at check-in to the hotel when I asked if there were any messages
for me, and the receptionist answered, ”belum”. In cold hard English
this means not yet, but surely the answer is either yes or no, there
either is (or is not) a message waiting for me and I just need the
facts. However, Indonesians are programmed from birth in creating
harmonious relationships with others, and a short sharp “NO!” is not in
keeping with their natures. You, a guest, have just indicated (ever so
tangentially) that you were expecting a message at the desk, so the
receptionist wants to give you some hope that your wishes will soon be
fulfilled.
Not all westerners enjoy that
kind of detailed concerted effort to making you feel nice, but I sure
do!
(January 2005) |