Fat squirmy worms

Little tan fatties with brown faces, the size of my second largest toe, wriggle in tubs.

“For eating?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Raw? Alive?”

“Sometimes, yes. Sometimes, goreng (fried).”

I can see a single muscle contracting in waves through their chubby, limbless bodies. I stand above the worms, eyes wide, jaw dropped. I gawk at the freaks. Why???

Meanwhile, the locals stare at me. What is this oran putih (white person) doing here? They examine me, eyes wide, jaws dropped. Some tap their friends’ shoulders to get their attention and point at me. They gawk at the freak. Why???

I laugh at the absurdity of consuming the worms, and also out of the discomfort of being stared at in a way that perfectly mirrors my own reaction to the odd little critters. Will I ever get used to being the fat squirmy worm spectacle of the morning market?

This blog, "Uprooted", is not an official Fulbright Program site. The views expressed on this site are entirely those of its author and do not represent the views of the Fulbright Program, the U.S. Department of State, or any of its partner organizations. 

Malaysian Hospitality (alternatively named: "America, Take Note")

Last weekend, I visited Lundu, a beach town in Sarawak where two other ETAs live. I had a three day weekend, it was another ETAs birthday, the Prime Minister of Malaysia was going to be in town (Zoolander, anyone?), there were Chinese New Year celebrations, and the largest flower in the world, Rafflesia, was blooming which is super rare. It was a pretty dang good weekend to visit Lundu.

My favorite memory from the weekend is one that had nothing to do with the long list of activities above, though. After parking to watch the Chinese New Year parade, we ran into a teacher from SMK Lundu, where the ETA, Cikgu (teacher) Mathias, teaches. This teacher, who Mathias had apparently only had interacted with a few times, insisted on buying all twelve of us Sarawak style hamburgers at his cousin's burger stand. We accepted of course, because in Malaysia it is considered disrespectful to decline free food (both a blessing and a curse).

We waited on the sidewalk in front of the burger stand and played with the myriad of small children who were also hanging out in front of the stand. Giggles and high fives were exchanged -- both things I consider to be successful markers of cross-cultural communication.

It began to rain. We were invited to stand under the awning of the house behind the burger stand.

It began to rain even harder. We were invited to enter the living room of the house behind the burger stand.

All twelve of us removed our Chacos and flip flops at the door, and sat down amongst the many people who we now understood to be family members of the teacher that insisted on buying us the burgers. The aforementioned children sat with us, smiling and shy, responding only to high fives. The giggling continued, the exchange improved.

While we waited, our unexpecting hosts brought us warm Milo (basically chocolate milk, for all you uncultured Americans), and chips (crisps, for all you uncultured British). Our burgers were delivered and promptly devoured, but not without a few selfies with our hosts.

The parade was about to start, so we began to say our goodbyes. Goodbyes in Malaysia consist of selfies, exchanging of WeChat contact information, selfies, hugs, holding of children, selfies, thank yous, and then some more selfies. Then, the children came around the room and showed their respect to each of us with salaams, a gesture that is common in Muslim tradition in which they bowed slightly and held our right hands to their foreheads.

The entire group, the twelve ETAs and our new friends, stepped back to the sidewalk where this whole interaction had begun. We watched the parade together in the pouring rain, under what is possibly the largest umbrella ever invented.

This, my friends, is true hospitality. Accepting strangers with unabashed generosity, giving them the benefit of the doubt that they are good people. Respecting them, despite varying religious and/or political differences. Making them feel welcome in a foreign country, where the language, food, and customs are different than in their home nations. Admirable, don't you think?

The group with our new friends in Lundu.

Waiting for the parade after eating Sarawak style burgers.

Me and my valentine, the rare Rafflesia flower.

This blog, "Uprooted", is not an official Fulbright Program site. The views expressed on this site are entirely those of its author and do not represent the views of the Fulbright Program, the U.S. Department of State, or any of its partner organizations. 

Finally, a place to call "home"

Long time, no wifi! Here's an update on my life in Malaysia:

On January 18^th, my housemate, Josephine, and I moved into our new home. A simple but clean three bedroom, two bathroom (one western toilet, one squatty potty) house in a newly developed neighborhood on the outskirts of a town called Sri Aman. Sri Aman translates to “town of peace”, and it is in the state of Sarawak on the island of Borneo. The town is next to a large river, Batang Lupar, and is surrounded by jungle, palm plantations, and rice paddies. 

After unpacking our things and barely getting settled, we attended school the next day, then drove four hours back to Kuching, the capital of Sarawak, to begin our five day Chinese New Year holiday. One day of “work” (more like meeting people and being fed delicious food all day) followed by a five-day vacation? Okay, I’ll take it.

I spent Chinese New Year in Kota Kinabalu, the capital of the state of Sabah, also on Malaysian Borneo. There, fellow ETAs and I relaxed on the beach and scuba dived. The entire time I couldn't help questioning why I was so lucky. 

Once back at school, I “observed” teaching styles (more like entertained students for 80 minute class periods with fun facts about myself and Alaska while the teacher sat in the back of the class and laughed whenever the male students awkwardly professed their love to me) ate more yummy food, and planned my weekly after school English programs.

This weekend, Josephine and I explored the surrounding area. We found a gorgeous, low-traffic road that has inspired us to find bicycles. To our great pleasure, we discovered the city sports complex, which has a track and an enormous swimming pool. My mentor, Jennifer, invited us to her home one night, where we nervously tried durian, an infamous gag-inducing Malaysian fruit that smells like a dirty diaper that has been sitting in the sun for hours. Jennifer’s husband brought out tuak, a type of rice wine from the local indigenous Iban culture. That evening, we ate a traditional Iban dish called pansuh, which is meat wrapped in leaves, stuffed in a large bamboo shoot, and cooked on a fire. It was yumai, which means "delicious" in Bahasa Iban, the indigenous language.

Another night, one of the teachers at Josephine’s school invited us to her home for some homemade tom yum soup. The family is Malay, which means they are Malaysian Muslims. The teacher, who requests that we call her “momma”, told us about past ETAs she had grown close to and how one ETA had nervously confided in her that she was Jewish, expecting that part of her identity not to be accepted. "Momma" laughed and said that her positive response shocked the former ETA; “No, lah, I do not care if you are Jewish! I do not care if you are Christian! Ido not care if you are Muslim! I do not care if you do not have any religion at all! We will accept you for who you are. We are very open minded here in Sarawak.” We then discussed how loving one’s neighbor is at the core of Islam, as it is in many other religions, such as Christianity. While we never explicitly discussed current events, I cursed America’s new president in my head during the entire conversation. Perhaps some folks in the USA should adopt this sweet hijab wearing, peace loving, and extremely welcoming mother’s philosophy on life.

Later in the evening, Josephine and I got to know the eldest daughter in the family, who is completing her Master’s thesis on English communication and gender. She told us that the subject of her undergraduate thesis was homosexuality in Malaysia, and her Master’s thesis explores transgender issues in Malaysia. She told us she picked the topic because one of her best friends is a transgender woman, and she wanted to be able to better understand and advocate for them. Being in the LGBTQ community in Malaysia is challenging, and those identities are not widely accepted, but people are curious about the issues, and many people attend her presentations, she said. This opportunity to hear the perspective of a young Malay woman on such a traditionally taboo subject was totally unexpected and thought provoking. 

This week, I officially started teaching. So far, the students are engaged and willing to try my crazy games. My theory is that having an animated teacher is so rare for them that they are mesmerized and thus, do whatever I ask them to do. More on hypnotizing my Malaysian students in a future post.

Our new home!

Chinese New Year celebrations last for 15 days here.

Just a 15 minute boat ride from Kota Kinabalu, Sabah!

Exploring outside of Sri Aman, we found where the road
e"road"ed into the river HAHA!

The public pool that costs a whopping RM 1 (23 cents) to use.

This blog, "Uprooted", is not an official Fulbright Program site. The views expressed on this site are entirely those of its author and do not represent the views of the Fulbright Program, the U.S. Department of State, or any of its partner organizations.