One week before I finished my contract, four teachers at my school invited me to lunch. It was the first time in nine months that I had been invited to a non-school social engagement by anyone from my school (except for one really cool old lady who wears a leather jacket when she drives her motorcycle and plays ping pong with me when she's supposed to be praying), and I was happy to accept. These women had been really kind to me throughout my time here, albeit distant, and I was curious to see what they were like outside of school. I had no idea how illuminating the lunch would be.
As we finished eating, I mentioned that I was having a really great time. One of the teachers smiled shyly and said, "Yeah, we wanted to invite you to lunch for a long time, but we didn't want to break the rules." I thought that was an odd thing to say, but I didn't press it. After I got home, though, I started thinking about what she said. Then I remembered some things my counterpart had said to me throughout the year. When the aforementioned really cool old lady took me to her house for tea, my counterpart was really angry. And later in the year, she tried to make me promise never to talk to another English teacher that my counterpart didn't like. As I thought about these and other things, I got suspicious. The next day, I asked one of the teachers from lunch what they meant by "rules." She looked at me and said matter-of-factly, "Oh, well just that we have to ask your counterpart's permission if we want to invite you anywhere." I was shocked and asked her to explain more. She said that my counterpart had told all the teachers at the beginning of the year that, in order to take me anywhere - even to lunch across the street between classes - they had to first get her permission. They had to tell her who was going, where they were taking me, why we were going, how we would get there, and how long it would take. Given that she's not very well-liked and had refused permission to one teacher very early on (her arch nemesis and the one she asked me not to speak to), no one else tried.
I looked at my fellow teacher and said, "But that's not true. It's a lie. That's not a rule." Her eyes were round as saucers as she asked, "Really?" I couldn't believe what I had just heard, and neither could she. I explained that, as an adult and a grown woman, I am perfectly capable of scheduling my own social engagements and do not need anyone to act as my guardian. "In fact," I said, "my counterpart has absolutely no idea what I do when I'm not at school. She doesn't know who my friends are or where I go because she's not my mother." Her mouth dropped open. She said, "But I wanted you to come to my house and meet my children and visit. You mean we could have done that?"
Apparently they decided that, with only a week left, they could throw caution to the wind and go behind my counterpart's back to issue me a lunch invitation. Now it makes sense why they were insistent I not tell my counterpart about it.
Three days after I learned this bit of news, I had a goodbye party with the English Club. My original plan to have them over to my house for some American food was thwarted by my lazy resistance to cleaning and packing and my shrinking budget that just couldn't accommodate import prices for palettes that probably wouldn't even like the food. Instead I bought some pizzas from Pizza Hut (probably a better treat for the students anyway) and brought them to school. I had not spoken to my counterpart since learning of her treachery and was not eager to do so. As the advisor for the English Club, though, I knew she would be at the party. I decided not to confront her about the rule because she could make the lives of the teachers who told me pretty miserable. Instead I opted for the cold shoulder.
She came late to the party. The students were shy about eating the pizza, so they weren't quick to devour it even though their hungry little eyes kept swinging back in the direction of the food. My counterpart arrived as I was taking out my camera, and she insisted on a photo with me. I told her that we should wait until the students finish eating because I didn't want greasy pizza fingers on my camera. She immediately turned to a student and yelled at them to finish immediately so she could have her photo. I put my hand out and said, "No, there is time. They can finish whenever they want." She looked disappointed but didn't say anything else.
After the students finished eating, we took a bunch of photos. There was still enough pizza left for each student to have a couple more slices, so I insisted that they take some home. My counterpart walked over to an almost full cheese pizza (she, never having eaten pizza in her life but insisting she hates it, chose not by flavor but by the largest pizza left), slammed the lid, and declared that she was taking the pizza home to her son. I calmly lifted the lid and said, as if to a child, "No, this pizza is for the students. They should take it home." She threw the lid closed again and said, "No, it's ok. I can take it home to my son. It's ok, no problem." After nine months of her speaking so manipulatively to me, and after the recent realization that my loneliness at the school was due largely to her lies, I wasn't going to take it anymore. Still trying to be nice, I shoved the lid back open and said, "No, it's for the students. If there is still pizza left when they leave, then you can take some home." She stared at me for a second, then said ok. I turned my back to put up my camera and turned around to see her telling the kids, "Don't eat that. It's mine. You can't have it. I want it." Their hands still hovering over the pizza, they froze, then backed away at her bullying. At this point, I lost my temper. In a loud voice, I said, "No, you can't take it with you. This pizza is for the students. They can eat whatever they want. You can't take it home. It's for the students." Then I shoved slices of pizza into every students' hand until the boxes were empty.
I don't think anyone has ever stood up to her like that. She's pretty scary, actually, and most of the other teachers seem to avoid her. I think she was shocked that I wouldn't let her have her way.
For a long time, I've felt sorry for my counterpart. I think she's a very unhappy woman. She is extraordinarily intelligent and works very hard to be a good teacher. And in her defense, when I needed her to help me get a house that meets the conditions of my contract, she was really great. But I think that stems more from her desire to do her job better than anyone else and less from a genuine desire to help me. Also, she's terrified of AMINEF. That always helps.
She told me once that she wanted to be a biologist. She said she really loved biology in high school and was good at it, but her parents insisted she become an English teacher. Her brother got to study whatever he wanted. At that time, she didn't speak any English. Now her vocabulary is really extensive and, although her accent really muddles her pronunciation, she deserves to be admired for her accomplishment. So many Indonesian teachers of foreign languages can barely read a sentence in their second language (this is not just English but German, French, Chinese, etc), so to encounter a person who has worked hard to master such a difficult language (not to mention mastering the art of manipulation in a foreign language) in a culture where it's really not necessary for a teaching position should be noticed.
I often wonder about the reason for her behavior. For the longest time I thought it was something to be pitied, the result of living in a place (not Indonesia in general but her own small society of her family and school) where she can only get what she wants through manipulation and deceit. She comes from Aceh, the notorious Shariah Law province in Indonesia that's known for it's religiously-based violence against women and it's alleged international terrorist training camps. She also works in a school that never gave me the impression of placing much value on women in a non-maternal, non-caretaker sense.
I don't know what her life is like, and I don't know what might have happened that makes her act this way. What I do know is that she crippled me when I was at my most vulnerable, a lonely stranger in a foreign place. It appears that it was for no better reason than to use me as a pawn in her petty departmental politics - "owner" of the bule - thus solidifying my eternal status here as an object, not a human being. Now that I'm removed from the situation, I'm not angry. Instead I only feel sadness and regret for what might have been a very different and much more meaningful experience here. I am glad that I found out about what she did, though, because it left me with a kind of understanding of the past year and a kinder feeling toward the other teachers.
Love your writing, Hannah!
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