The book is inspiring and moving. The typical feel good story of the happiness of pursuit, against all odds and of the underdog. A story of scholar from a less developed country overcoming not just academic challenges and financial limitations, but also language barrier and cultural shock, in pursuing education in a Western more developed country.
Then Bapak told me that I should write a book on my studies in London. Well, not that I don’t want to. I have so much stories from my London year, but they do not have the dramatic flair of Arief Budiman’s stories (or Andrea Hirata’s, if you prefer the newer version of struggling Indonesian scholar). While I had to be smart with money, we never had to huddle together in bulky winter clothes to keep ourselves warm to save on heating during winter time.
The ‘study abroad’ narratives that ‘sell’ to Indonesians fall within these two ‘extremes’: the struggling scholar or the trust fund baby. The stereotype of struggling scholars are diligent students with stellar academic performance from their elementary school, devoted to his/her parents who invested a lot on their child’s education despite their poverty, and religious. The trust fund babies are represented by members of a tycoon family or political dynasty and ideally religious too e.g. Mas Boy of Catatan Si Boy or (god forbid) London Love Story.[1] The struggling scholars must live in a cheap suburban accommodations, the trust fund babies live in luxury house or condo in a prime area (purchased, not rented) with luxury cars at their disposal. However, both seem to hang out exclusively or mostly with fellow Indonesians due to cultural and economic gaps. The struggling scholars tend to shun and cannot afford ‘hedonistic’ (I prefer the term, epicurean) lifestyle of common Western students. While the trust fund babies find themselves unable to relate with other students who are (mostly) proletarians.
Now, I do not fit in to both stereotypes. I am a scholarship recipient, but I am not a struggling scholar. My LPDP scholarships award was generous, not excessive but sufficient. They covered at cost visa application and return tickets, full tuition fee, fixed living costs and book allowance, capped dissertation allowance and partial dependent support. I got additional stipends from Lubis, Santosa & Maramis, the law firm I worked for. I could afford to live in a private studio flat in WC1 area with my partner, travelled to some parts of Britain and Continental Europe as well as Morocco, eat out, socialising and engaging in epicurean lifestyle and even got a tattoo from London’s premium parlour. But of course I could not bask in luxury. I bought my clothes at charity shops (tip: browse the charity shops in rich area).[2] When my smartphone broke, I did not buy the newest iPhone but a Nokia.
I was far from diligent student profile. I flunked in mathematics, physics, chemistry (the “Mafia” subjects—matematika, fisika, kimia— dreaded by most students during high school who are weak with numbers) in high school. Joined the school’s gang. I was an okay undergraduate student. I compensated my academic performance with professional experience to get the scholarship. Spiritually, I am deeply irreligious. Socially, most of my friends in London are not Indonesians.[3]
But perhaps that exactly I need to take my part in filling the narratives gap for the common scholars. I think most Indonesian scholars of my generation are like me. After all, we live in an age of smartphones where the entire human knowledge is accessible one click away, international university applications are submitted online, and cheap air travels. Of course, I am not inferring that inequality has been addressed. To the contrary, inequality is the main reason why international students typically come from rich or middle class family. One of my fellow LPDP scholars is from a remote village with no electricity, and it has been an almost insurmountable handicap for him to study abroad.
Maybe some people find that the trust fund babies narratives are too superficial. While the struggling scholars narratives tend to entertain the Jesus Complex mentality—the notion that the more one suffers, the more virtuous one must be.[4] But the common scholar (i.e. my) narratives will be like this:
- I have to take the Underground and the Routemaster bus to get around London (last time I check, even Kit Harrington also uses them so hardly count as a struggle—except the Central Line during summer);[5]
- I have to do farmers’ walk i.e. lugging the baskets of groceries from Waitrose Brunswick (yes, I am a supermarket snob who shops at Waitrose);[6]
- We also need to shop for our monthly meat, poultry and fish supplies at Brixton Market—which is lovely and so full of life, we always share pleasantries with the shopkeepers who are as diverse as London can get: English butchers, Afghani fishmongers, Caribbean grocers.
- I learned to become a handyman to fix the wall tiles from YouTube and some tips from a local hardware supplies store owner; and
- I studied hard—hardest in my entire life, battling anxiety, minor depression, infatuation, sense of inadequacy, the dread of returning to Jakarta, relationship strains, and many other form of insecurities. All of them are common human experience. But they are mine.
Well, are they inspiring enough?
Our flat building in spring
[1] I did not watch the movie. My snap judgment on the trailer tells me that it would ruin my London memories.
[2] It’s not just about the saving money. I can get good value items compared to cheap retailers, reduce environmental footprints and contribute to good causes.
[3] Just to be clear, I do have Indonesian friends in London. We were even adopted by our host family who are Indonesian-Italian. However, I did make the conscious effort to make friends with people from all around the world simply because I was in London. I don’t want to miss the opportunity to sample the diversity and multiculturality just because I’m afraid of cultural gaps and minor language barrier (last time I check, we all need to achieve certain level of fluency in English to be admitted). This is a chance to shrug off the ‘inlader’ mentality that is so pervasive in my Indonesian psyche.
[4] Alain de Botton, Essays in Love (Picador: 2015).
[5] In fact, not having to drive everywhere was extremely convenient for someone who grew up in the seventh hell of traffic: Jakarta.
[6] My motto was ‘In reduced, we trust’. In fact, Waitrose is the most frequented place by us in London. We went there at least once a day.