Reflection

For the past few weeks, I’ve been contemplating about my journey here. About the people I’ve met, the places I’ve seen, and the air I’ve breathed.

If I should sum this experience into one word, that’d be “overwhelming”; and in one phrase, “I’m lucky!”

I realise that this whole experience has humbled me down in so many areas of myself. I’m being exposed to so many different things I am accustomed to see, hear, feel, and sense.

Tunisia is different to Indonesia, the country where I grew up, and Australia, the country where I studied. This is the country where free speech is a forbidden phrase, hospitality is part of life, and tradition is pride.

It has a long history of civilization. From the Phoenician to the French colony, to finally independence. Those, fused with the many cultures in Tunisia – whether indigenous or foreign – have become the culture they called Tunisian. When Australia is still trying to figure out the meaning of cultural diversity, Tunisia has called it their culture since decades ago.

While maintaining its identity as a Middle Eastern country, it is still very much a Mediterranean and with French influence in many ways. When I was in Sousse, I realised how Tunisia illustrates the exact definition of the phrase “melting pot.” There, there is a Great Mosque, a ribat, cafés that sell sheesha and croissant, people going to the beach at night while some other are watching Brazil vs. France world cup match on a big screen. And that was just Sousse; it’s just a glimpse of what Tunisia has to offer.

If you go to New York or London, or even a country like Australia, you won’t find a melting pot. What you can find, however, is a bowl of salad. In a bowl of salad, you can still see the salad leaves, the tomatoes, the dressing, and so on. But in a melting pot, you can hardly see its shape. But you know it’s is still, well, a melting pot.

In Tunisia, you can still find something Arab, French, Mediterranean, and Islam but you can hardly see any distinction among them. You can still hear the call to prayer and see a bar where people sell beers, you can still see men smoking sheesha in cafés on your way to buy a baguette, and you can still see an old Berber woman sitting in front of her apartment to see the world goes by and see the youngsters to go to one of the biggest festivals in the Mediterranean countries.

It proclaims itself a modern Muslim country where women are not obliged to wear veils (even in schools and universities, girls are not allowed to wear veils. Although not enforced, it is written in the country’s law) and have played significant roles in the society (as police officers, politician, educators…). But at the same time the government is still taking control in access of information to the people.

A few weeks ago, I put a posting on the Tunisian media. I thought I would correct what I’ve written, but I found stronger evidences to back up my points there. La Presse, for example, is the one of the most - if not the most - important newspapers in the country. A quarter of its front page is filled with ads, and another quarter filled with the news on what’s been happening with the President Ben Ali. To me, it feels more like governmental newsletter than an informative and objective newspaper, which is absurd. But then again, journalists here are technically civil servants. So what can I say?

Then I see (and feel!) poverty.

I live in a downtown area of Tunis, which is the poor area (well, not really, but poor enough for me to not make me want to imagine what the poor area is like). I often pretend I live in somewhere like Bronx in New York minus drug dealers and hip hop, but replaced by kids playing street-football and Arabic music. The first time I got here I was shocked with the living condition I was thrown into. But I kept thinking to myself, “well, this is Tunisia. This isn’t Melbourne or Vancouver that often make it to the list of ‘most liveable city.’ What did I expect?”

That moment, I remember, I thought of Kaicee (one of the graduates I sent on an AIESEC Exchange program) who wasn’t prepared with her living condition in Delhi and kept complaining about it. Remembering the pictures of her Delhi apartment and comparing it to my Tunisian one, hers was luxury.

My apartment here is filled with dodgy furniture, cockroaches, and mice. The only thing that has been keeping me here is the thought, “you’re not gonna die sleeping on this stiff mattress and taking a shower in that dirty bathroom. Some people live in a hut and don’t even have access to fresh water to shower with.”

But I know AIESEC has put a lot into this apartment, and I know that many other exchange students who lived in much worse apartments.

Sometimes I forget to change my money, as the result, I don’t even have 50 milims. And I have no chance to make it to the bank for a couple of days. Not having a penny is hard. Now I know what it feels like to not having anything at all, like that old beggar woman sitting on the corner of my street.

Professionally speaking, I’ve also been massively challenged.

I’ve always been a true believer in AIESEC, I still am. But this experience has taught me not to be as naïve. Some people in AIESEC don’t even deserve to call themselves AIESECers. Some others don’t even be worthy of calling their years of experience in AIESEC as something presentable.

Professionalism, accountability, and rewards can be interpreted differently. Theirs are very different to the ones I’ve taught myself about. I don’t like their ideas of those things, but I know, without having the chance to work with this people, I won’t be able to realise this.

I still believe that AIESEC is a very beautiful organisation with an amazing aspiration. I am still very much in love with AIESEC as an organisation, and still don’t understand why I love it so much. Thanks to Dey to remind me about what someone can do to AIESEC, and AIESEC can do to someone. To me, AIESEC has allowed me to really explore myself. Even this whole experience happens to me because of AIESEC. Maybe that’s why I love AIESEC so much.

Tunisia, like all the trainees with whom I live would agree, is a country where the culture of “appreciative inquiry” isn’t as celebrated as it is in our countries. People just work; they generally don’t have a career. Team members do what their bosses ask them to do; no appreciation given, no questions asked. Tasks are done the way they’ve always been done; no innovation.

I guess this experience has allowed me to see another side of the world and of life and be happy of what I’ve got in the places I called home: Indonesia and Australia.

If you asked me which culture I can relate myself more, I wouldn’t pick one. I’m very much an Australian in a lot of ways, but I still am a proud Indonesian. I can scream out loud to support Socceroos and sing “Indonesia Raya” with all my heart, I can still crave for sate Padang while laughing to Australian jokes till my stomach hurts.

This experience has taught me of so many different things. Of what kind of person I want to become, the goals I want to achieve, and the life I want to have. This has been overwhelming and I am lucky to have experienced this. Sometimes you never have the chance to appreciate what you’ve got or even to see the other side of the world. I’m glad I have this chance.

When I was in AIESEC in Australia, I know how I can market AIESEC to students, especially for the exchange program. I’d always say that such experience would be inspiring and powerful. I’ve seen people’s lives changed because of their experience abroad, but never had I thought that it’d be this powerful.

This experience has taught me the value of freedom of expression, of celebrating your root, and appreciating what you’ve got. It has helped me to reassess my life, my goals and vision, and myself as a person. Most of all, it has taught me to embrace life to the maximum level.

I don’t know if I’ll ever come back. I’d say Inshallah for that.

Now that I am concluding my time in Tunisia and in AIESEC as a whole, I know I am closing a chapter of my life and will begin another one. More places to see, more people to meet, more life lessons to gain.

I will go home to my country, somewhere in which I haven’t stayed any longer than three months for the past five years. I will finally be home and head for my future.

I will be with my family. My mother will still try to fix me up with one of her friends’ son, my dad will still be busy gossiping about politics and play golf with his buddies, and my sisters will have their own shares of life problems which they usually vent to me.

But I would definitely say thank you for AIESEC for letting me to see so many things in life.

Thanks to Jen Harwood for passing my applications to the MENA countries last year, and to Eric for responding to that.

Thank you to the people I’ve met here with whom I had the privilege to exchange of ideas on many different topics.

Thank you to AIESEC Tunisia for accepting me as a CEED. And for Tunisia for letting me to see life from a different angle.

Last but not least, special thanks to my mum and dad for letting me go on this journey and for always supporting my dreams.

I know I will remember my experience here for the rest of my life. I know I will miss all the momenta of meeting new people, seeing new things, and learning new experience every day.

Hidup itu indah! (life is beautiful!)

Siz