Same-Same

The incomparable Junot Diaz has written of relationships that “as soon as you start thinking about the beginning, it’s the end.” This is how I too know my Peace Corps service is almost over–besides a few projects I am wrapping up and discussing with my friends, we mainly talk about the days and moments that have already happened.

I reminisce on the time I ate only rambutan fruit for dinner and got sick, the incredibly awkward and wonderful welcome ceremony my school held for me two years ago, the afternoon I spent with a teacher friend painting her house, the insane mindfuck that was my medical separation, the beautiful cakes my students brought me on both my 24th and 25th birthdays. I remember reading Agatha Christie novels on rainy afternoons. Being present when my host sister gave birth. Sitting on a beach with friends and realizing how good a life can be. Laughing with neighborhood kids and doing the hokey-pokey (that’s what it’s all about! Hey!)

Even though the actual in country part of my service is coming to an end, Peace Corps requires volunteers to share our knowledge and experience with friends and family back home. In other words, promote cultural understanding (that’s what it’s all about! Hey!) I think about this a lot. Over the last two years I have discussed at great length the differences I have experienced and the cultural gap between my American-ness and the conservative Indonesian community I have become a part of. At this point though? All I know is what I had hoped to learn from the beginning: that we are all pretty much the same. Complicated, flawed, but mostly decent. It’s an obvious universal truth that should not be overlooked, especially now.

In the last month I have been shocked and embarrassed by the behavior of one Donald Trump and his abhorrent comments aimed at Muslims. He has made my job here that much more difficult–constantly telling my neighbors and co-workers that no, most Americans do not want to turn away Muslim immigrants from our borders. It’s shameful to constantly reassure my community that I do not believe that they are all terrorists.

I am frustrated with the perception I need to dispel about America to Indonesians, but I am also just as ashamed to discuss Indonesia’s recent anti-gay onslaught with friends and family back stateside. In a country that has a vibrant transgender tradition and culture, there recently has been a wave of attacks against the Indonesian LGBT community. One of the most extreme views has come from former communications minister Titaful Sembiring who tweeted to millions of followers that the public should “kill any gay people that they find” because homosexuality is a “mental illness.” He cites the consumption of instant noodles as a cause of homosexuality, which would be more laughable if the consequences of his ignorance weren’t so serious.

To both Mr. Trump and Pak Sembiring I say this: we are entitled to our opinions and beliefs, but we are not entitled to make shit up and then use the shit we make up to oppress other people.

Yet speaking only to these reactive ends of the spectrum discounts all the goodness and decency that exists in the middle ground. Which is where I have learned the most as a Peace Corps volunteer. The majority of people I have met and had the pleasure of knowing in Indonesia are kind, thoughtful and decent human beings. Although we initially seem to come from vastly different worlds, we end up talking about the same things: work, love, family. YouTube videos of cute baby animals are also universally appreciated.

In the Indonesian language the word “sama” means “both” or “same”. The word repeated twice (“sama-sama”) means “you’re welcome”. I’ve always loved this. That when you give or receive thanks the other person responds “same”. It’s sort of like saying the goodness in me recognizes the goodness in you. Many of my co-workers at school like to say certain phrases in English twice to get a giggle out of me. For instance “jalan-jalan” means “walking” but many teachers and friends will say “walking-walking”. I don’t laugh anymore though when someone responds to my thank you with “same-same”. At the almost end of my service, I find it to be a phrase imbued with too many bittersweet feelings. Same-same is the world’s best kept secret: that love and understanding need not be scarce. Recognizing the commonalities we all share is our most powerful tool against ignorance, intolerance and bull-headed prejudice.

Same-same is what I wish Donald Trump and Titaful Sembiring were more cognizant of. Because there are so many things to give thanks for, so many wonderful people who make this world better. We should be showing appreciation for the people who exist in between the right-wrong binary. We are all struggling to do our best and be our best selves. Sometimes we succeed and sometimes we don’t. Mostly, we give each other the benefit of the doubt–we try to acknowledge that we are all same-same. That realm of decency (and occasionally the hokey-pokey) is what it’s all about.