Opening my eyes and seeing the world from both sides now

Opening my eyes and seeing the world from both sides now

Azwar Hasan, Contributor, Jakarta

In Aceh, the land of my birth and where I lived until high
school, I grew up in a traditional environment full of religious
values.

These values were so rooted in my consciousness I often
fantasized about what my father, a religious teacher, told me
about heaven. The image of heaven engraved in my consciousness
from childhood was of a place full of trees and rivers flowing
with clean, clear water, where everybody lived in peace and
harmony and nobody wanted for anything.

And, of course, everybody in heaven was Muslim.

I lived for many years comfortable in my understanding of
heaven until that cozy concept came under fire in a small town
called Bairnsdale, three hours from Melbourne in Australia. I
lived in a homestay in that rural town for approximately three
weeks with my "adopted" family.

It had taken a lot for me to be chosen for the Australia
Indonesia Youth Exchange Program (AIYEP). First, I lacked
confidence sending in my application, believing that as a student
from an undeveloped village I would be an unlikely choice. I had
also come to believe that any selection process in my country
would involve favoritism or graft, but I pushed on anyway and was
picked.

When I arrived in the town, I experienced something that
surprised me, impressed me, even made me feel dizzy, as I
struggled to understand what I saw and felt every day of my stay.

It started out when I asked my host father about his religion
and he replied, "I have no religion."

That answer did not exist in the set of beliefs I grew up
with, because I "knew" that every human being must have a
religion, be it Islam, Protestantism, Catholicism, Hinduism or
Buddhism. I no longer knew how to position this man in my life:
As a freak, an enemy or perhaps one of the infidels we often
heard about in our religious classes.

I was confused, not least because these people were so kind to
me, full of attention, both for me and my family back home. They
worried if it was OK for me to eat what they ate, asked about my
pocket money -- they behaved like the benevolent people I
imagined populated heaven.

I did not have it in my heart to think of them as infidels. I
really hoped that I had been wrong in my understanding and
interpretation of the religious instruction imparted to me back
in the village. I wanted so much for them to be my adopted
parents with whom I could talk about many things.

My confusion deepened when an Australian friend from the
exchange program introduced me to his family. Without a care in
the world, he said, "Azwar, meet my mum and this is my mum's
boyfriend."

How was it possible that his mother had a boyfriend? Where was
his father? Was this allowed, or was it a sin! She would go to
hell forever.

Good grief! I was scared to even think of hell -- a place of
such cruelty and suffering where, as far as I knew, people who
had illicit relationships were doomed to spend eternity. I was
only a teenager and this woman was the mother of a teenage boy --
and she had a boyfriend! My world, or my concept of it, was
falling apart.

These people were living in the same house as husband and wife
and from the way they behaved, they seemed to be very much in
love.

In my host family's household, the father cooked and served
dinner. Then he cleared up and did the dishes -- the sort of
things that are a woman's duty in my village.

Meanwhile, my host mother, dressed in man's boots, drove a
tractor to cut the grass and after dinner would return to the
field and do some weeding while the father eased himself into an
armchair to watch television.

In my home village, I saw families who lived under the strict
rule of law; the man would order the woman around to do his
bidding and neglect the children so that they did not even know
what -- if anything -- they would eat that day.

What sort of world was this? What was right and what was
wrong? I felt feverish with confusion, wrestling with the
thousands of questions flashing in my mind. I told myself that
one day I would have a wiser view of all this because I was sure
there was no easy or perfect answer to what was happening.

Bairnsdale really was like heaven on earth for me because I
actually experienced and felt all the things that I had only
imagined in my view of heaven. Clean, clear water flowing down a
river free of garbage and discarded plastic bags, trees and
fertile land all around me, fresh air, good roads, no pollution,
clear skies.

Houses were left unlocked although they were full of
valuables. Horses and cows looked so healthy; all the animals had
a name and every member of the family knew it. What sort of
country is this? Is this what heaven is like?

And if the answer is yes, how come these people, including
atheists, are in the sort of heaven that was described to me by
the clerics in my village? What should I do to bring this heaven
to my village or my country?

Looking back on my experience now, I am grateful to the AIYEP
program because it allowed me to see another side of the world
and to experience life from a different angle. I have learned how
to appreciate diversity and how to walk together to face all
future challenges.

If more of my people could see and experience life from
another angle through a similar program, maybe conflict and war
would no longer be part of our lives.