Local Wisdom: When ‘Go Back to Your Own Country’ Means ‘We Care’

So, picture this: you’re an expat living in Jakarta, savoring a plate of nasi goreng, minding your own business, when a fellow resident…

So, picture this: you’re an expat living in Jakarta, savoring a plate of nasi goreng, minding your own business, when a fellow resident kindly suggests you “go back to your own country.” The sweet serenade of xenophobia! As an expat myself, I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing this wonderfully warm sentiment firsthand. While it’s a minority opinion, it’s such a rare gem that it deserves a moment of appreciation.

Imagine, amidst the hustle and bustle of Jakarta’s lively streets, someone goes out of their way to offer you this heartfelt advice. It’s almost as if they’re saying, “They miss your presence in your homeland!” How touching. This well-meaning suggestion is a beautiful reminder of your roots, wrapped in a package of local charm and subtle exclusion.

But really, how should one feel about such a generous piece of advice? Should we be offended or flattered by this unique form of unsolicited hospitality? Let’s dive into the depths of this experience and uncover the pearls of wisdom it conceals.

“Go Back to Your Own Country”: The Nostalgia Argument

Imagine being in a country renowned for its hospitality and getting told to go back home. It’s almost like being handed a VIP pass to the nostalgia club. Remember those days back in your home country? Where the food is bland, the weather is consistently miserable, and the local wildlife doesn’t include Komodo dragons or cheeky macaques? Pure bliss, right?

This sentiment is a beautiful reminder to cherish your roots. After all, who wouldn’t want to leave behind the vibrant culture, rich history, and delicious cuisine of Indonesia to return to their mundane, ordinary lives back home? It’s almost as if these local advisors are saying, “You must miss the mundane mediocrity of your homeland!” How considerate.

When someone tells you to go back to your own country, they’re not just offering you travel advice; they’re providing an exclusive invitation to reminisce about the simpler times. You know, those days when you didn’t have the luxury of stumbling upon a hidden warung that serves the best satay in town. Instead, you had the joy of supermarket trips where the exotic section meant canned pineapple and curry powder.

Consider it a local’s way of expressing their concern for your well-being. “Surely, you miss those grey skies and predictable weather patterns,” they might think. It’s a reminder that while you’re busy embracing the chaotic charm of Jakarta, there’s a whole world of monotony waiting for you back home. They’re practically begging you to appreciate the slow-paced, drama-free life that you’ve left behind.

So, when a well-meaning local suggests you pack up and return to your origins, take a moment to savor the underlying message. They’re not pushing you away; they’re nostalgically nudging you to remember where you came from. And who knows, maybe they’re even a bit jealous of your adventurous spirit. After all, it takes a certain kind of person to leave behind the familiar and dive into the unknown, especially in a city as wonderfully chaotic as Jakarta.

Local Experts on Global Migration: The Unlicensed Consultants

Jakarta is a melting pot of cultures. Yet, some locals have taken it upon themselves to moonlight as unlicensed consultants on global migration. These self-appointed advisors, armed with their extensive knowledge of world affairs (gleaned from brief encounters with expats), generously dispense advice on where foreigners should reside.

Their insights are profound: “Go back to your own country” resonates with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. It’s almost like they’re saying, “They miss you when you’re gone.” How touching! Their advice is not about exclusion but a heartfelt, albeit misguided, attempt at showing they care about your well-being.

These unlicensed consultants, with their impeccable timing and delivery, clearly have our best interests at heart. It’s not every day you encounter such benevolence wrapped in a few curt words. These interactions make one feel like they’re participating in a global game of “Where’s Waldo?”, where said local has taken on the role of guiding you back to your original page in the book of life.

Imagine the dedication it takes to become an expert in the complex field of global migration, simply through sporadic and often one-sided conversations with expats. Their knowledge is not tainted by academic study or practical experience but is instead a pure distillation of knee-jerk reactions and passing encounters. Truly, it’s an unappreciated art form.

In the theater of life, these unlicensed consultants play a crucial role. They remind us that no matter how far we wander, there will always be someone who believes they know what’s best for us, even if it’s based on fleeting impressions and a pinch of xenophobia. So, next time you receive their sage advice, remember to thank them for their genuine, if somewhat misplaced, concern.

The Minority Report: Appreciating the Rarity

Being told to pack up and leave is a rare and special event. These moments should be treasured for their uniqueness. It’s not every day you get to feel like a character in a political thriller, being pushed out by shadowy figures whispering ominous warnings.

This minority opinion highlights a significant aspect of human interaction: the fear of the unknown. It’s not about you; it’s about them. They’re simply expressing their discomfort in the most eloquent way they know. The sheer rarity of such encounters makes them memorable and, dare I say, collectible experiences in the grand tapestry of expat life.

In Jakarta, a city teeming with diversity, receiving such a directive is like winning a bizarre social lottery. You’ve been handpicked from the crowd, marked as unique, and given a special task: to appreciate your own cultural background in the most abrupt way possible. It’s almost flattering to know that your presence is so impactful that it stirs deep, albeit misguided, emotions in others.

These rare encounters offer a glimpse into the minds of those who see the world in stark black and white. Their discomfort with your differentness is not a reflection of your value but a testament to the boundaries of their worldviews. It’s a chance to witness firsthand the limitations of human acceptance and tolerance, wrapped in the guise of a dismissive comment.

The real beauty lies in the fact that such encounters are few and far between. They punctuate the otherwise harmonious expat experience with moments of unsolicited drama, giving you stories to share at dinner parties and a unique perspective on cultural integration. It’s not every day you get to feel like an exotic species under the scrutinizing gaze of an amateur anthropologist.

So, the next time someone tells you to go back to your own country, embrace the rarity of the moment. It’s a fleeting brush with the narrow-mindedness that lurks in the corners of every society. Treasure it for its uniqueness and move on, knowing that these instances are but small blips in the otherwise welcoming world of Jakarta.

The Hidden Compliment: You’re Just Too Special

The real kicker in these situations is the hidden compliment buried within. Being told to go back to your country is essentially someone acknowledging that you, in your foreignness, are just too special for their ordinary world. You’re a unicorn in a sea of horses, a rare gem that stands out.

In Jakarta being told to leave is like being handed an award for being the most noticeable expat. Congratulations! Your unique presence has made such an impact that it’s caused someone to momentarily step out of their comfort zone and communicate with you, albeit clumsily.

This kind of interaction is the highest form of recognition. Think about it: you’ve managed to penetrate the bubble of everyday life with such intensity that it compels someone to verbalize their feelings, however awkwardly. It’s as if your sheer existence has disrupted the mundane flow of their day, prompting them to reach out and connect, even if it’s in the form of an exclusionary remark.

Consider this: when someone tells you to go back to your own country, they’re not just dismissing you; they’re highlighting your significance. They’re essentially saying, “You’re too extraordinary for us to handle.” It’s an inadvertent compliment wrapped in a layer of discomfort.

So, next time you’re faced with this situation, don’t be disheartened. Embrace the hidden praise. Recognize that your presence is powerful enough to elicit such a reaction. Wear it as a badge of honor, a testament to your impact on the world around you. After all, in a city as diverse as Jakarta, being singled out is a sign that you truly shine.

In the grand scheme of expat life, being told to go back to your own country is less about exclusion and more about a dramatic form of flattery. It’s a misguided compliment from individuals who, in their own unique way, are trying to process the idea of sharing their space with someone different.

So next time you hear those words, smile and take it in stride. After all, it’s not every day you get such a memorable, if somewhat awkward, reminder of your uniqueness. These moments, while initially jarring, are a testament to your impact and presence. It’s their clumsy way of grappling with the new and the unfamiliar, a sign that you’ve stirred the pot in their otherwise routine existence.

And while it might not always be easy to brush off, remember that the world is a big place full of people who will appreciate you for who you are, no matter where you are. Each “go back to your own country” is a backhanded accolade, a quirky acknowledgment of your special status. In the meantime, keep enjoying that nasi goreng and remember: you’re special, and someone in Jakarta just can’t handle it. Cheers to that!