Day...whatever the heck... 26?: NICE

Ok, don't even remind me how many days this "30 day" adventure is taking. But I swear I will finish it!!!! Also I just miss the blog. The word of the day is NICE, because some people are nice and some people are not. This is not something unique to Javanese culture, but I thought I'd tell you some stories about the extremities of nice and not nice here.

Good or bad news first? How about good, then bad, then good. Ok.

When Merapi erupted (The big one), everyone was pretty freaked out. Not like running-through-the-streets screaming freaked out, but definitely I-feel-like-I-have-to-pee nervous. My first instinct was to get a train ticket outta town, and then to get close to people who I love. So after sailing through the ash to the train station with Jozi, we returned to Sekip and found that the head of the English department and faithful professor Pak Eddy had brought over bags and bags of food for us to take on our trip. Bananas, biscuits and pizza!! for the poor little shocked American girls. I was almost moved to tears, but instead grabbed a slice and kicked back. From there I went straight to packing and down to my friend Geger's house, where we passed the day in mutual solidarity until it was time to say goodbye to friends and for me to get on the train. My best buddy here Megan would be leaving to go back to the US before I woudl get back from Jakarta and it was an emotional farewell. The warmth and love were amazing... and I was so thankful to have such amazing friends.

But it's normal for your friends to be nice to you right? What about random people on the street? Well, have I ever told you about my mechanic? He might be the nicest person in Jogja if not the world. From the first time I had a problem with my bike and barely knew how to say 'bike', my already-graying but probably only about 35-year-old neighborhood mechanic was there with me, pointing and grunting our way through a communication. The guy chains smokes like no one I've ever seen before and usually wears the grimace that one wears when one is holding a cigarette in one's mouth without hands-on assistance, but I knew he loved me. Firstly, he did not try to rip me off, which is not even something I can say for mechanics in the US (in fact, his service fee is the equivalent of $1.10 as in one dollar and ten cents). Secondly, he treated me like a human being, not a foreign female. After this, and a damn good tune-up, he had my undying allegiance. Now, Pak Nur looks out for me and my total ignorance about my bike and is really concerned that I seek him out before I sell the bike so that I don't get ripped off. What a sweetie.

This is how I think of the Yogyanese norm: really nice. So imagine my surprise to learn that I am living with some very very NOT nice girls. In fact, I would go so far as to call them mean girls. Now, let me take a minute to say that not ALL of the girls in the kos are mean. In fact, I absolutely love the girls who I've gotten to know personally and am really happy to be around such great people when I get home from work. Truth be told, I thought everyone in the kos was nice, and assumed that they all liked me too.

But then one day, the fridge is cleaned out, and a semi-expensive bottle of wine that I had stored unobtrusively on the bottom shelf and wrapped in plastic so as to not offend Muslim eyes, is missing. I inquire as to who cleaned out the fridge and get the same answer from every single person: "I don't know WHO cleaned the fridge." Everyone.

I post a note on the fridge: "Dear friends: whoever cleaned out the fridge, please help me! I had a bottle of wine and I'm very confused that now it is missing. Please come talk to me in the room next door. Thanks! Brittany." No response. Finally I ask my friend across the hall what is going on. I'm worried that someone doesn't like me and is trying to harm me deliberately. Well, after all this time, I've finally interpreted a Javanese interaction correctly: I'm informed that this kos has a tradition of... 'cattiness', to use the English idiom. That is, if someone has a problem, they will not confront the person but instead gossip and then start stealing their stuff. Yes, stealing.

One story was pretty harmless; some sandals were stolen and the girl learned to say 'hello' more often. One story was terrifying; a girl's computer, clothing (how low!) and shoes were stolen and eventually she was harassed out of the kos, partly for a conflict with another girl's boyfriend. Keep in mind that boys are not even allowed to enter the building officially.

"So what do I do?" I ask
The answer: "Be even nicer. And stop asking about your wine. You're not going to get it back, and it's just going to make people more angry." As if I had done something wrong in this situation.

But here's the thing: I probably DID do something wrong. Probably at some point, I parked my bike in the wrong place, or left my umbrella in someone's way, or hung my clothing up to dry in someone's spot or whatever. But I'm in a foreign culture, and if no one is going to let me know that I'm screwing up, there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. There's only so far that observing and guessing can get you. And what baffles me is that someone's solution to this problem is to take my things and try and intimidate me out of the house.

From the first day that I moved in, I've tried to be nice. I was genuinely enthusiastic to move to this house, and immediately introduced myself to everyone and always said 'hi' when I came home. I tried to figure out all of the house rules, official and unofficial, asking when necessary, and respect the status quo. I baked cookies, and a cake and put a sign on it for the girls to share. Never once have I been invited to any of the many parties held downstairs or even the informal chatting sessions in which everyone else in the house is included. When Merapi erupted, everyone woke each other up... but no one knocked on my door. A few days ago, my iPod disappeared from it's normal station on my desk.

I can't help but feel really disappointed, and hurt. And I try to imagine... if the tables were turned, and there were one foreigner in my dorm, alone and far away from her homeland, family and friends, would I treat her like this? I mean obviously I would never steal from anyone, much less a totally harmless and sweet violinist. But wouldn't I reach out to someone obviously struggling in a foreign country? I hope I would, but I'm not sure that I have. I honestly can't remember. But let me tell you I will NEVER forget what this feels like. It's just not nice. Not nice at all.

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