JP\/1\/BY<\/p>\n
Laughing at oneself while learning about Indonesia<\/p>\n
They say that laughter is good medicine and we should learn to
\nlaugh at ourselves. Perhaps those two thoughts partially explain
\nwhy I have enjoyed such good health for so long.<\/p>\n
Over the years I've found that many humorous situations occur
\nbecause of differences in language and culture. And I have had a
\nfew good belly laughs because of my own inadequacies with the
\nlocal language.<\/p>\n
I get it honestly, though. In Zip City, Texas, where I grew
\nup, the only foreign language I was ever exposed to was English.
\nHowever, by the time I arrived in Indonesia I had been broadened
\nby world travel and education. I had a university degree and had
\nbeen to Vietnam once and Mexico twice -- I could count to six in
\nVietnamese, ask for beer in Spanish and say \"I love you\" in three
\nlanguages (not counting English).<\/p>\n
I arrived in Jakarta with these tools and an adventurous
\ndisposition in March 1979.<\/p>\n
After years of adventure and misadventure, I still am not
\nfluent in the Indonesian language. My vocabulary may be as high
\nas 500 to 600 words -- I can get by in the kitchen and in most
\ntaxis.<\/p>\n
Amongst my friends and colleagues, I guess I rank about in the
\nmiddle in terms of language ability. A few of my long time
\nfriends are fluent in Indonesian (they are not from Texas), but
\nseveral still can't even smile in the local language (Texans).<\/p>\n
But my facility with the language did not come easily. I had
\nmany teachers and almost all lamented my lack of skill at
\nreproducing sounds. It turns out that, like English, many
\nIndonesian words are not pronounced as written.<\/p>\n
Take Tebet (a residential district in South Jakarta) for
\ninstance. I lived in that neighborhood for several years and had
\nmore than a little difficulty getting taxi drivers to take me
\nthere.<\/p>\n
That is because Tebet is pronounced \"TeButtttt\" by all taxi
\ndrivers and most local residents. And it doesn't matter that
\nthere is no other word in the Indonesian language similar to
\nTebet to be confused by, if you ask to be taken there by a taxi
\ndriver, you can bet you'll end up in Kali Malang or Kebayoran
\nLama.<\/p>\n
During my learning process, I was always envious of the more
\nintelligent expatriates like Chad from Bakersfield, California.
\nChad was a fast learner.<\/p>\n
I remember that after only about a month here he knew almost
\nall there was to know about the problems with Indonesia.<\/p>\n
I wasn't amazed so much that Chad had observed all these
\nthings in only one month, but that he had perceived that Djoko
\nwas unaware of these problems and that he would be able to fix
\nthem once he understood.<\/p>\n
I wish I were as smart. I have known for some time how to
\ncorrect a lot of the traffic problems at Semanggi and have never
\nlearned to whom to explain my solution.<\/p>\n
Not so long ago after attaining proficiency in the language of
\nthe kitchen, Siti, my domestic assistant came to me in much
\nembarrassment and asked permission for her husband to visit and
\nstay overnight.<\/p>\n
I, of course, gave my permission immediately.<\/p>\n
Several days later, having forgotten the conversation, I
\narrived home, slightly inebriated from a game of golf, to find a
\nyoung Indonesian man sitting on the front stoop.<\/p>\n
At first I was puzzled, then Siti's request came to mind as I
\napproached. Pleased that I had remembered, I extended my hand and
\nsaid, \"Selamat sore, nama saya (Good evening, my name is), Ron.\"<\/p>\n
\"I'm sorry,\" the young man replied.<\/p>\n
Having learned from several teachers that my Indonesian
\nenunciation was often incorrect, I was pleased that even though
\nhe hadn't understood my name, he had answered in English.<\/p>\n
\"My name is Ron,\" I said, still shaking his hand.<\/p>\n
\"I'm sorry,\" he replied again.<\/p>\n
I was a little taken aback, so I tried again, taking pains to
\ntry to roll the R.<\/p>\n
\"My name is Rrrrron,\" I said, looking at him hopefully.<\/p>\n
\"I'm sorry,\" he said just as hopefully.<\/p>\n
Recalling that I had once had a couple working in my house
\nthat couldn't speak Indonesian (it only took me six months to
\ndiscover we had a communication problem), I decided this was
\nprobably the case here and I would dispense with the formality of
\nexchanging names and invite him in.<\/p>\n
Later as I showered, it occurred to me that he wasn't confused
\nabout my name; I was confused about his name.<\/p>\n
I started to laugh at the idea that his mother had named him
\nI'm Sorry because she had liked the sound. Like a poorly educated
\ngirl from Zip City might have named her daughter La Dolce Vita,
\nbecause it sounded good to her.<\/p>\n
I had a couple more chuckles as I dried and slipped into bed
\nfor a nap.<\/p>\n
Just as I was slipping into dreamland, I had a revelation. He
\nwasn't telling me his name was I'm Sorry; he was telling me his
\nname was Ahmsari. Then I had to laugh at myself.<\/p>\n
Ahmsari must have thought I was demented, or the very least
\ndeaf.<\/p>\n
If we don't take ourselves too seriously and think of
\nourselves as overly clever, life can be pretty humorous -- at
\nleast in the circles in which I travel.<\/p>\n
-- RG Pate<\/p>", "url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/jp1by-1447899208", "image": "" }, "sponsor": "Okusi Associates", "sponsor_url": "https:\/\/okusiassociates.com" }