Seeing the world differently

Sometimes people find it odd that I don't see things the same way as they do. Sometimes this is in a more 'trippy' metaphysical sense - but not so much as I don't end up in many discussions over the ultimate shape of reality. Where it really stands out is in discussion of values, and how my perception of what's going on in the world differs from that of other people.

Not that it matters where this came from, but I've been like this for a long time. I can recount the first time it became really obvious to me that that I didn't see things the same way as my peers.

When I was in Year 11, at 16, my parents decided to take the whole family on a backpacking holiday around Indonesia. So there's my a parents in their 40s, me, and my two sisters, aged 12 and 6. I'm not going to recall the whole journey (though it contains many potential anecdotes). Rather, there's one event, and my interpretation of it, that stands out in my mind.

Early on in our trip, we were staying in Denpasar. As we'd never been abroad before, my parents booked a van and a tour guide to take us around Bali for a day to get a feel for the place. The van was unremarkable, though I was impressed with our driver's ability to negotiate the traffic. What really stood out to me was our guide, Made. I still don't know much about him, and given that almost every second-born child on Bali is called Made, I can't imagine that I'll ever track him down. Anyway, I was struck by how well-presented and articulate he was. Perfectly pressed & ironed shirt and pants. Shiny shoes. He had a great knowledge of the island and its history. His English was probably better than mine at the time, and on top of that he spoke pretty good Japanese (as well as native Balinese and Bahasa Indonesian). He struck me as being both intelligent and hard-working.

About halfway around the island, in the north near the black sand beaches, he asked us if we could stop in at his home village. I'd assumed that he was from Denpasar. But as it turns out, he lived there for work and sent money back to his family. He explained to us that his wife had recently given birth to twin daughters, and that he wasn't seeing much of them at the moment. So Mum and Dad agreed to make the short detour.

I don't know what I expected. I knew that life in Indonesia was different to what I'd known in Australia, and that their currency was worth a lot less. But Made was so well-educated and professional and, dare I say it, just a little middle-class, I had been lulled into a false sense of security. So when we rolled into his village, I was in for a shock.

Most of the buildings were thatched huts with earth floors. There was one building with a concrete slab floor and a communal television. Not every building had running water, and they certainly wen't connected to the sewer. Made's daughters were only a few weeks old - tiny slightly frowny babies, kept off the ground at all times as is the Balinese tradition. It was a tropical paradise in many ways. But I had expected his home life to be a little more in line with what someone of similar talent and drive would have had in Australia.

We had fresh coconut water and it was all very touching, but soon enough we were on our way. Made didn't make a big deal about it, nonetheless my parents knew that the Hindu ceremonies that children go through were not cheap. So, Dad insisted Made take a bit of extra cash, which he found deeply embarrassing, but took all the same.

We continued on our journey, and that's a tale for another time.

Fast forward six weeks later, and I was back at school talking to people about what I'd seen. I spoke to my English class about the experience of going to Made's village. My classmates, and my teacher, acted as if I'd blown their minds. Over the coming weeks and months, I realised that most people, including most people who had been to Bali, had never given a second thought to how people there lived. It never even occurred to them to ask how it was that someone like Made, who, if he was in Australia would have had a mortgage in a nice middle-class suburb, was going for weeks at a time without seeing his baby daughters, just to afford to live where they did.

The experience, and the cognitive disconnect I sensed in others, especially some other travellers, has stayed with me. What I didn't realise until recently is that the way I saw things was always different enough that I was primed to see something that I felt many other people had missed. On reflection, I wonder if this hadn't happened to me, would I still have the same attitudes I have now? I suspect I would, such were the values and sense of curiosity that my parents had instilled in me.

Either way, the experience, and watching people's reactions to it, were certainly formative in my life, and my sense of justice that occasionally causes me to rail against senseless greed and needless inequality.

Thanks for reading. As always, your support is deeply appreciated.

Photo by Jannes Glas on Unsplash