Indonesia - Holding Hands

On the bus ride from Yogyakarta, Indonesia I met a young Muslim woman, who wore a typical veil that covered her hair and around her chin (see picture - women on the right). She was returning from university to her parent's home. This young woman spoke excellent English. We talked a great deal during the bus ride. Eventually she asked me to come meet her family. Wow, this was a special invitation. Most English conversations that I had in Asia were with males, since they were the ones fortunate enough to have a formal education. The invitations I received by most males, I could not accept. My gut often told me that there was more to those invitations than a cup of tea. So this invitation was extra special, since I felt that I could accept it from this highly educated Muslim woman. We got off the bus. I tossed on my big blue North Face backpack and followed her home.

When I got to her home, I was a bit self-conscious. I was not dressed appropriately to meet her family, especially her parents. What was wrong? My legs were showing. Fortunately, I always carried a wrap for just these occasions. I pulled my wrap out from my backpack and wrapped it around my waist. I made sure it touched the top of my sandals, hoping to cover my ankles as well. Now I was ready to enter her home.

I am not sure if this young Muslim woman brought people home often or I was a unique guest. First she announced my presence and then I was asked to come in. When I walked through the door, her parents, brother, and younger sister were all very welcoming. Since this took place in 1996, I can not remember if they all spoke English or not. I do remember being well taken care of. I was served tea and a few cookies in a room with just females. A couple of female friends came by to meet me. After about an hour of tea, cookies, and chatting with her sister and female friends, we all went outside for a walk.

The walk was more like a parade around her neighborhood. Although the sun had already set, I think my young friend wanted to be seen with me. It certainly was a pleasant night so I was fine with this. After walking for a few minutes, my new friend grabbed my hand. We were holding hands! This was extremely awkward for me. I so wanted to pull away. However, I had learned in Asia that holding hands with someone of the same sex is not necessarily a sign of one's sexuality. I first realized this in India. Men hold hands in the street with other men all the time. At first I thought India had a huge gay population. Eventually I came to realize that this was most often a sign of friendship. This young Muslim woman was letting me know that she thought of me as her friend. I did not want to insult her in any way. I held her hand for close to 10 minutes before I could figure out a way to release without being rude. As you can tell, I was uncomfortable but I realized this was just a difference between our cultures.

After spending a couple of hours at her home and around her neighborhood, it was time for me to get to my hotel for the night. Since I had no idea where I was and it was getting late, I accepted a ride from her brother. He had a motorbike and he knew where my hotel was located. I ran into a slight problem here. In this situation women usually sit side saddle. At least that is the appropriate or lady-like way of ridding on the back of a motorbike. I had my big backpack on and there was no way for me to do this. I also had my wrap on. There was no way I could hop on the back of the bike with the wrap. After pretending to be a proper lady for her family, I ripped off my wrap and straddled the back of the motorbike in my shorts behind her brother. Again, another uncomfortable situation. I tried to stay at least an inch away from her brother and hold onto the seat of the motorbike the best that I could. This was a difficult ride to my hotel with my backpack on but fortunately for me her brother did not bring attention to this awkward situation. I am sure he had a fun story to tell the next day.