What the Indonesian Language Taught Me
I studied the Indonesian language a few years ago.
I have forgotten most of it.
But I never forgot how it made me feel.
It is a beautiful language.
Refined. Gentle. Almost poetic.
It paints instead of naming.
Breast becomes buah dada, fruit of the chest.
The sun becomes matahari, eye of the day.
Streetwalkers become kupu-kupu malam, butterflies of the night.
Even criticism is softened.
Instead of saying someone is rude, you might hear kurang baik, less good.
Instead of a hard no, you hear belum bisa, not yet can.
Instead of attacking directly, someone begins with mungkin, maybe.
Very polite. Very civilized.
And then there is pronunciation.
One day in class, I confidently tried to say “four-star hotel.”
In Indonesian, star is bintang.
I proudly said binatang.
Which means animal.
So instead of recommending a four-star hotel,
I basically suggested a four-animal hotel.
The whole class laughed.
I wanted to disappear.
One vowel.
Total humiliation.
But that is the charm of language.
When the sun is an eye.
When criticism becomes less good.
When one letter turns a luxury hotel into a zoo.
You start to see it.
Language is not just words.
It is a way of seeing the world.
Have you ever learned a language that surprised you like this?
