Indo To a PCV: A Halloween Party Photo Essay

No serious, inspirational post this week. Instead, the conclusion of a totally “keren” (rad) two weeks of In-Service Training in Surabaya warrants more celebration than reflection. I’m definitely thankful for the ideas and guidance gleaned from the workshop, but as always, downtime with other Volunteers proved to be the highlight. Fourteen days with people who, though diverse in their backgrounds, interests, and personalities, all share a certain restlessness concerning the everyday, a curiosity towards new experiences, and a general drive to continually better themselves can’t be anything but a highlight.

On that note, we hosted one of history’s better Halloween parties last week. All sorts of celebrities showed up: synchronized swimmers, angry birds, an M&M, batman, a gorilla, a cloud, a mime, and not to be overshadowed, even Zeus himself. For this post, though, I’m just going to focus on some of the more Indo-specific costumes: what are they and how are they interpreted through the eyes of Indonesian PCVs.

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Portrait of President SBY (Dan G.) – 1st place in costume contest – Dan easily took home first place honors with this stunning get-up. Nobody knows much about president SBY. In fact I still can’t even tell you what his initials stand for. But the general impression is that the President, though totally under the radar, is overwhelmingly popular precisely because doesn’t command attention. Indo’s pre-SBY politics were dominated by charismatic leaders whose impacts proved as tumultuous as their personalities. In contrast, SBY’s even-tempered guidance has coincided with political stabilization and steady economic growth over his past few terms. A mass produced portrait of his likeness hangs in nearly every Indonesian classroom.

Lele (Me) - Dressing up as “lele” (catfish) for Halloween was a cathartic step towards reconciling myself with a particularly traumatic experience that happened a few months ago in my village. If “lele” were a person, ten out of ten PCVs agree that he would be a creeper, uninvited to the party, standing silently in the corner, always watching, and prone to sudden bouts of overzealous dance. As PCV Elle has noted, just eating the fish—head, skin, and all—is a slippery experience that leaves one feeling an inexplicable urge to shower. The good news is that my stomach’s relationship with catfish is getting better, and in the future, I hope to fully appreciate its positive merits, whatever they may be.

Aerobics Instructor (Paige G.) – Last week another volunteer described watching students at his school try to run a kilometer for kelas olahraga (gym). I forget the numbers, but the results weren’t good, and most students didn’t finish the run. Consequently, I suspect Paige is onto something here with this totally realistic caricature of the paragon of Indonesian physical fitness, the crazy aerobics instructor. Government offices, police stations, schools… all are frequently guilty of hiring these unorthodox fitness consultants for mass exercise demonstrations. The instructors, almost always women in skin-tight, neon spandex moderated by thoughtfully adorned jilbabs, usually stand atop special podia, and lead spirited sessions of hip gyrations and faux sit-ups for an hour or so. A solid cardio workout by Western standards? Probably not.

Badminton Birdie (Erin) – 2nd place in costume contest (tie) – In the near future, don’t expect Indonesia to make a run for the medal count at the Olympics, qualify for a World Cup, or more generally compete for notoriety in any meaningful, major sport, that is… except for badminton (and maybe table tennis?). College friends of mine like to reference an episode of the Chappell Show in which Dave Chappell, competing as Prince in a game of streetball against mortal opponents, repeatedly drains threes while nonchalantly calling out “Good” before the ball even leaves his hands. That’s more or less what happens when the Indo national team plays badminton. You might as well consider the match won and bump up your tempe dinner (see below).


PCV on a motorcycle (Jenn) – In accordance with national law, Indonesia kids patiently wait until their sixteenth birthdays before applying for a driver’s licenses. I wish that were true, but really, Indos begin driving whenever they darn well feel like it. Usually, that happens around age ten. So the next time you see a group of obedient American fourth graders patiently waiting for the bus, contrast that with three ten year-old Indos on a ninja bike weaving in and out of traffic half a world away hoping not to be late for social studies. Of course PCVs aren’t allowed to either drive or ride motorcycles, and one of the first Indo phrases I learned was how to explain to confused community members that “Banyak relawan Peace Corps yang naik sepeda motor meninggal” (many PCVs who have ridden motorcycles are dead). Jenn’s sign nevertheless stands as an eloquent expression of every PCVS innermost desire.


Flip Chart (John A.) – PC Indo has an obscene infatuation with flip charts. Meetings, workshops, parties… you can count on a flip chart making an appearance like you can count on students fainting at a Monday morning flag ceremony.






Tempe (Dan N.) – I have a love/hate relationship with tempe, and I assume most other volunteers do too. “Hate” because tempe is an inevitable part of every meal at my house. The fried soy paddies are inescapable, so one might as well raise the white flag and open up. “Love” for two reasons: first because tempe is pretty palatable when consumed in moderation and second because it is nearly infinitely more preferable than its ugly, equally ubiquitous cousin, tofu. Seriously, any friend who tells you soggy tofu is better than crisp tempe isn’t a friend at all. We call such people liars.

Mosquito carrying dengue/malaria (Mebs) – 2nd place in costume contest (tie) – The cause of much devastation to European traders and Chinese laborers hundreds of years ago still looms large in equatorial Indo. Today, mefloquine keeps PCVs safe from malaria, but dengue a.k.a. “bone break” fever still presents a real threat. A few months ago, I sat down with the host family to count the visible bites—mostly mosquito but also ant and no-see-um—on my feet. The tally for the left foot hit 24. The right reached somewhere in the upper teens.