Language and Identity

I attended a lecture on human security yesterday at Chula. Wayne Nelles and Ajarn Narumon presented. It was interesting.

Ajarn Narumon presented her findings working with the sea people at southern Thailand. The sea people called ‘chao lay’. Interestingly, they do not like the identity as ‘chao lay’ since it has negative image. Chao lays are dirty, primitive, and so on. They prefer new identity as ‘Thai Mai’ or the new Thai.

The ajarn also told us that there was an officer who reminded her not to use the word ‘chao lay’ nor ‘moken’ (moken is also about chao lay…I am not sure the difference between them, you can google it by yourself). The officer suggested her to use the word ‘ithai ma’ to avoid ethnic conflict.

The ajarn mentioned that in some extend calling ‘chao lay’ as ‘thai mai’ may avoid the conflict. It also leverages their pride. On the other hand, what about their identity? Their history, and other group identities’ issues, will be gone.

I was thinking about my own country. There was no a nation called Indonesia. Indonesia is a new invention, by a Dutch I supposed. What we had hundreds of kingdoms, spreading on the archipelagos.

We were united since we had common enemy (or I better say enemies?). Then we chose to use Bahasa as a common language among us. Bahasa derived from Melayu. It is a simple language. Practical. There is no past, present and future. No singular or multiple, to make singular noun to be multiple just repeat the word. Anak means child, anak-anak mean children. No bloody tones like in Thai, Mandarin or Vietnamese. The grammar is simple. It is only subject and predicate, well you can add object and adverb or adjective if you want to. We understand the meaning of words based on the context. This simple language constructs the identity of Indonesian.

My first language is Bahasa, and I identify myself as an Indonesian. Deep inside I have a big question mark about my identity. Ethnically I am a Javanese. My mama and papa are Javanese. Papa understood Javanese language, but not my mama. Mama was born and grew up in Jakarta. Her parents were nationalists. They spoke in Bahasa as a way to support the new nation (Indonesia was a baby on that time). Therefore they did not speak in Javanese.

I was born and grew up in Balikpapan, an oil city at East Kalimantan (Kalimantan is Indonesian part of Borneo). I barely heard people spoke in Javanese. We spoke in Bahasa, or yes sometime Banjar. Banjar is an ethnic at Kalimantan. I never identified myself as a Javanese. (how could I identify myself as a Javanese, even though I have a rank in front of my name, while I barely know the culture?)

When I was a teenager, my family moved out from Balikpapan. We lived in a small town in Java. It was only mama and I at home. My sister went to another city for study. Papa stayed at Jakarta, made some money to support us. He went back home once in a month. Again, mama and I communicated in Bahasa.

During that time, I had Javanese class on high school, and it was horrible. I did not know any words. The worst thing was the hierarchy. I had to know whom I talked to. Different words to explain the same thing. I asked my mama,” How could I know one’s social position? Do I have to ask first? Excuse me are you from higher or lower class than me?” Mama looked at me blankly and said that she didn’t understand it either. I remembered my Javanese teacher asked me (cynically I supposed), “Ervita, are you a Javanese or not?” This dumb headed girl said NO. Actually until now, after lived in Java for more than 10 years, and able to speak in Javanese (I read too, impressive no :D ) I still don’t identify myself as a Javanese. I am an Indonesian.

Sometimes my parents were invited for some ceremonies at our communities. Since papa was rarely at home, I often accompanied mama to attend. I immitated all she did. Shake everybody’s hands, smiled elegantly and sat nicely. Mama told me, “Remember your grand parents and great grand parents. They were and still are respected here. Behave appropriately.” It means BORING. During ceremonies usually there were speeches (I didn’t understand why there were so many speeches), unfortunately in Javanese. So you can imagine, both my mama and I smiled politely, but actually we did not know anything. Once I whispered, asked my mama, “Ma, what is he talking about?’ My mama whispered at me,”Lil one, I don’t know either.” I grinned and she blinked her eyes.

I moved to Jogja, city of culture and education in Indonesia. It means we have the court and thousands of university students :p I studied there, still communicated in Bahasa. On 1999 I joinned an organization, since that time I really learned Javanese. I needed Javanese at work, especially when I have to work with the community. I even ask Romo Himawan aka Mo Him (Romo is uncle, it is how Royal Javanese calls uncles) some rules in Javanese language (since it’s bloody hierarchical). I asked him, how if I talk to an elder person from lower class than me, like the maids for instance. I should respect the maids since they are older than me. But he said no, since I am a lady and they are maids. Ouch…see…this is one reason why I don’t identify myself as a Javanese. (My grandma, even though she’s a nationalist, was furious when I said I prefer Dayak than Javanese)

Ethnically I am Javanese. I was born and grew up in Borneo. I learned the Dayak Kenyah culture more than Javanese, even though I don’t speak the language. I love the culture, the people and everything about it. My home is the jungle. Why should I identify my self as a Javanese lady? But I question myself. I don’t live in Borneo anymore, for more than 10 years. I still have friends, but my family is not there anymore. Can I still claim that I am from Balikpapan? My ID card is from Jogja. I lived there for 8 years and have friends there. But I live alone there. I rented a house for the last 5 years until I went to Bangkok. Sure I don’t have a home anymore in Jogja. Can I say I am from Jogja? Mmmmmm I doubt about it. Well, my mama is in Jakarta, with my sister, brother in law and angelic nephew. Mama always asks me to come back home to her. Should I say that I am from Jakarta? I never lived there. The longest period I stayed in Jakarta was 6 weeks in a row. Where do I come from?

I believe there are many Indonesians like me. We speak in Bahasa and identify ourselves as Indonesian, not think about ethnic identity. Don’t ask me where I come from in Indonesia. It is always difficult for me to answer.

My personal experience as a person who question her own identity, leads me to think about the ‘chao lay’. I wonder how if the chao lays have new identity as thai mais. Will they (somehow in some extent) be confused with their identity?