Okay, enough. I spent over an hour already reading other people's blogs about their experiences in Fajar Hidayah (and I came here at the computer centre supposedly with another mission in mind). Four other teams came before us, I think...and it was interesting seeing the older photos. I am dying to get my own copy of our photos, really.
So there is this kampung boy in Aceh who melted my heart to smitherins and made me yearn for impossibilities: first, for all the different world religions to be abolished and for the world to have just one unified faith (because he is a Muslim and I am a Christian); and second, for me to become seven years younger. What the fish.
But see, there is too much competition for his attention because almost all female volunteers fell for his charm, even for those who came before us. I've been reading this girl's blog who went to Aceh a year ago I think, and she is claiming Yazid (yes, the name of the magical boy) to be hers. Well, this is my blog so I'll go claim Yazid as mine too. He is my Bekam (short for "Bebek Kampung", which means village duck, because of his amazing talent of imitating the voice of Donald Duck).
If there is really love at first sight, I think I know what it means now...OKAY I MUST SHUT UP NOW AND MOVE ON TO MORE SENSIBLE THINGS.
So let me start over again, can? My two weeks in Aceh is the highlight of my summer, and is probably the best two consecutive weeks of my life so far. But honestly, for the first two days of my stay there, I was already dying to go home. EVERYTHING IS JUST SO DIFFERENT. I was the only non-Singaporean in our team, and I was the only non-Muslim everywhere we went. Even in the language department, I was the only one that differed. My so-called conversation with the locals could rarely get past "Nama saya Korinna. Um, nama? (while pointing to the person I'm talking to)". That's my attempt at saying my name in Bahasa Indonesia and trying to ask the other party's name.
As if the language barrier is not enough, it is even compounded by my having to adapt to a different culture and living conditions. Every house or building I go to, I must remove my footwear even if the floor is quite muddy; and I must cover up (read: long pants and long-sleeved top plus tudong, the Muslim headgear for girls) even if the place is as tropical as it can be and it feels sticky and humid. And let's not fail to mention the prison food; the battalion of mosquitoes; the rusty water if there is any; the regular blackouts; the cold, hard floor to sleep in and the subsequent back aches; and worst of all, I stunk a lot that time. I vividly remember asking God 25,000 times for those first two days what the heck I was doing there, and asking Him to please take me back home...and imagining being in a chopper going back to Sinagpore ahead of the group...haha. I sms-ed Ivy my woes, because I thought it wouldn't be wise to sms my parents because I would just make them worry even more. I also sms-ed Kuya Martin for strength and clarification about some stuff about Jesus, because my newfound Muslim friends and I were having a friendly discussion about our respective faiths.
Those were the first two days, I felt horrible. But I tried to act mature and tried to discover my purpose of being there. God is so faithful and He never, not even once, left my side. After surrendering my worries and woes and everything to Him, I was able to make the rest of my stay the best of my summer.
This post is too long already and I still have other stuff to do. Haha I foresee that a bulk of my subsequent posts will still be about my Aceh trip. Because of those kids. And my amazing team mates who gave me a very warm welcome in their group despite our differences. (Oh, suddenly I remember this adage about not seeing eye-to-eye but working hand-in-hand. Just fitting.)
They shall be in my heart forever.
So there is this kampung boy in Aceh who melted my heart to smitherins and made me yearn for impossibilities: first, for all the different world religions to be abolished and for the world to have just one unified faith (because he is a Muslim and I am a Christian); and second, for me to become seven years younger. What the fish.
But see, there is too much competition for his attention because almost all female volunteers fell for his charm, even for those who came before us. I've been reading this girl's blog who went to Aceh a year ago I think, and she is claiming Yazid (yes, the name of the magical boy) to be hers. Well, this is my blog so I'll go claim Yazid as mine too. He is my Bekam (short for "Bebek Kampung", which means village duck, because of his amazing talent of imitating the voice of Donald Duck).
If there is really love at first sight, I think I know what it means now...OKAY I MUST SHUT UP NOW AND MOVE ON TO MORE SENSIBLE THINGS.
So let me start over again, can? My two weeks in Aceh is the highlight of my summer, and is probably the best two consecutive weeks of my life so far. But honestly, for the first two days of my stay there, I was already dying to go home. EVERYTHING IS JUST SO DIFFERENT. I was the only non-Singaporean in our team, and I was the only non-Muslim everywhere we went. Even in the language department, I was the only one that differed. My so-called conversation with the locals could rarely get past "Nama saya Korinna. Um, nama? (while pointing to the person I'm talking to)". That's my attempt at saying my name in Bahasa Indonesia and trying to ask the other party's name.
As if the language barrier is not enough, it is even compounded by my having to adapt to a different culture and living conditions. Every house or building I go to, I must remove my footwear even if the floor is quite muddy; and I must cover up (read: long pants and long-sleeved top plus tudong, the Muslim headgear for girls) even if the place is as tropical as it can be and it feels sticky and humid. And let's not fail to mention the prison food; the battalion of mosquitoes; the rusty water if there is any; the regular blackouts; the cold, hard floor to sleep in and the subsequent back aches; and worst of all, I stunk a lot that time. I vividly remember asking God 25,000 times for those first two days what the heck I was doing there, and asking Him to please take me back home...and imagining being in a chopper going back to Sinagpore ahead of the group...haha. I sms-ed Ivy my woes, because I thought it wouldn't be wise to sms my parents because I would just make them worry even more. I also sms-ed Kuya Martin for strength and clarification about some stuff about Jesus, because my newfound Muslim friends and I were having a friendly discussion about our respective faiths.
Those were the first two days, I felt horrible. But I tried to act mature and tried to discover my purpose of being there. God is so faithful and He never, not even once, left my side. After surrendering my worries and woes and everything to Him, I was able to make the rest of my stay the best of my summer.
This post is too long already and I still have other stuff to do. Haha I foresee that a bulk of my subsequent posts will still be about my Aceh trip. Because of those kids. And my amazing team mates who gave me a very warm welcome in their group despite our differences. (Oh, suddenly I remember this adage about not seeing eye-to-eye but working hand-in-hand. Just fitting.)
They shall be in my heart forever.
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