Mixed Roots and Gado-Gado Flavours
Being a Serbian-Indonesian-Australian student on exchange in Indonesia is a confusing-exhilarating-scary-yet-interesting experience.
I often find myself saying Ibuku dari Indonesia (my mother is Indonesian) to legitimise myself - I am one of you. I am Indonesian! But when I say say Bapakku dari Serbia (my father is Serbian), I am not. I am "exotic", "interesting", "unique" - yada yada yada. In other words, "not quite one of us, but we'll take you in anyway".
One particular response that I enjoyed is one of my classmates comparing me to gado-gado, a traditional Indonesian salad of slightly boiled, blanched or steamed vegetables and hard-boiled eggs, fried tofu/tempeh with a peanut sauce dressing. Tantalising.
I laugh, say that I love eating myself *ba-dum-tisk* and move on to more permeant matters like where is the coolest place to hang out near UGM.
Language makes for a great tool to hide the fact that I'm not completely Indonesian, but does include some challenges. My thick Australian accent are not quite able to capture the rolled "r"'s in bahasa Indonesia nor does my lisp aid in this plight. I can't quite understand the all of the utterances of my gojek driver, as well as the almost all of what is written in my university readings. I hide my lack of knowledge with sih, kok and kan to sound like a local. And just when I feel like I have the culture slightly under control, an ibu-ibu throws to me a question in Javanese (a major dialect of Indonesia) and I'm back in unknown waters.
So no, it looks like I'm not Indonesian.
Alrighty so that means I'm Serbian right? I'm basically a splitting image of my dad, but I can't quite speak Serbian (unless knowing how to say good morning and how are you counts as being fluent), nor have I been there since I was 3 years old.
So no, it looks like I'm not Serbian either.
But I do also understand why myself and other mixed race kids are looked upon with interest. Because somehow, our parents overlooked the unfamiliar demeanors of races, and overcame expectations to marry and experience different cultures and religions. Although this has been great, I find myself in limbo, 'othered' by each culture, trying to navigate the social norms of each community.
So then, I say I'm Australian, with a random, scattered cultural background, who has accepted that they will never quite "fit in" anywhere. It's okay though. I enjoy the ambiguity, somehow being able to thrive in difficult situations, where I never quite understood social cues and not being able to categorise into all the "typical" boxes.
I smile through it, concealing my lack of knowledge, and create my own way.
I often find myself saying Ibuku dari Indonesia (my mother is Indonesian) to legitimise myself - I am one of you. I am Indonesian! But when I say say Bapakku dari Serbia (my father is Serbian), I am not. I am "exotic", "interesting", "unique" - yada yada yada. In other words, "not quite one of us, but we'll take you in anyway".
One particular response that I enjoyed is one of my classmates comparing me to gado-gado, a traditional Indonesian salad of slightly boiled, blanched or steamed vegetables and hard-boiled eggs, fried tofu/tempeh with a peanut sauce dressing. Tantalising.
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| Oh look! It's a photo of me in my baby years! |
I laugh, say that I love eating myself *ba-dum-tisk* and move on to more permeant matters like where is the coolest place to hang out near UGM.
Language makes for a great tool to hide the fact that I'm not completely Indonesian, but does include some challenges. My thick Australian accent are not quite able to capture the rolled "r"'s in bahasa Indonesia nor does my lisp aid in this plight. I can't quite understand the all of the utterances of my gojek driver, as well as the almost all of what is written in my university readings. I hide my lack of knowledge with sih, kok and kan to sound like a local. And just when I feel like I have the culture slightly under control, an ibu-ibu throws to me a question in Javanese (a major dialect of Indonesia) and I'm back in unknown waters.
So no, it looks like I'm not Indonesian.
Alrighty so that means I'm Serbian right? I'm basically a splitting image of my dad, but I can't quite speak Serbian (unless knowing how to say good morning and how are you counts as being fluent), nor have I been there since I was 3 years old.
So no, it looks like I'm not Serbian either.
But I do also understand why myself and other mixed race kids are looked upon with interest. Because somehow, our parents overlooked the unfamiliar demeanors of races, and overcame expectations to marry and experience different cultures and religions. Although this has been great, I find myself in limbo, 'othered' by each culture, trying to navigate the social norms of each community.
So then, I say I'm Australian, with a random, scattered cultural background, who has accepted that they will never quite "fit in" anywhere. It's okay though. I enjoy the ambiguity, somehow being able to thrive in difficult situations, where I never quite understood social cues and not being able to categorise into all the "typical" boxes.
I smile through it, concealing my lack of knowledge, and create my own way.
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