Study at
Harvard. Or Cambridge. And never go
overseas
The dilemma was palpable.
Should Saumi and Nanda keep walking and risk eyeballing a native English
speaker? The encounter might enhance their vocabulary.
Or should they dart back to the safety of the Basic English Course (BEC) campus where
order rules and decisions are made by others?
The earnest teens in their black jilbab (headscarf) and white blouse uniforms decided to accelerate,
tell the foreigner “we must be leaving” and head for the café. Facing each other across a table they
practised to make perfect:
“I am going to the classroom.”
“You will be going to the classroom.”
“She has been to the classroom.”
BEC is the pioneer language school and the biggest in the
East Java town of Pare. This was once a
totally rural village relying on rice and sugar cane grown on the fertile
flatlands surrounding the city of Kediri. Now it has diversified into teaching
English and thrived, largely because of one man.
Study at
Harvard. Or Cambridge. And never go
overseas
Duncan Graham/ Pare
The dilemma was palpable.
Should Saumi and Nanda keep walking and risk eyeballing a native English
speaker? The encounter might enhance their vocabulary.
Or should they dart back to the safety of the Basic English Course (BEC) campus where
order rules and decisions are made by others?
The earnest teens in their black jilbab (headscarf) and white blouse uniforms decided to accelerate,
tell the foreigner “we must be leaving” and head for the café. Facing each other across a table they
practised to make perfect:
“I am going to the classroom.”
“You will be going to the classroom.”
“She has been to the classroom.”
BEC is the pioneer language school and the biggest in the
East Java town of Pare. This was once a
totally rural village relying on rice and sugar cane grown on the fertile
flatlands surrounding the city of Kediri. Now it has diversified into teaching
English and thrived, largely because of one man.
Muhammad Kalend Osen arrived in 1978
after studying languages and religion for five years. He met two Islamic
university students from Surabaya wanting to hone their English skills for an
exam. Their chosen tutor had other
commitments so Kalend’s wife, who had inherited a house in Pare, pushed hubby
to take the job.
“I was nervous, I didn’t know whether I’d be successful,” he
said. “I’d never been to teachers’ college.
When my students returned to Surabaya and graduated they attributed
their success to me, told others and the word spread.”
Now 23,000 students later Kalend has a splendid
purpose-built campus where he imposes his own style, discipline and strict
dress rules. BEC’s teaching bears little resemblance to a Western language
college; it’s more like a pesantren (Islamic
boarding school) than the 100 other ‘colleges’ that have followed in his wake
to create Pare’s famous Kampong Inggris
– a term Kalend dislikes.
“It’s not a village and it’s not English,” he said. “It
suggests that everyone speaks the language and that’s certainly not true. But
I’m not bothered. That’s their affair.”
Kalend, 71, was born in East Kalimantan where his future in
the family’s timber business seemed assured.
“But I didn’t plan to spend my life cutting down trees, I
wanted to use my brain,” he said. “I was
also seeking spiritual guidance. I’d
heard of a pesantren in Gontor, East
Java led by a scholar called Kiai Yazid who spoke several languages.
“Also at the pesantren
was an Australian studying Islam and he helped me learn English.”
Despite having never been to an English-speaking country Kalend’s
language skills are remarkable. He’s at ease with idioms. Yet he has never
studied at university and has no formal qualifications. “I’m just a village boy,” he said.
He claims inspiration from American self-improvement
salesman Dale Carnegie’s book How to win
friends and influence people and its message of learning from mistakes.
Surprisingly he found his abilities useful on a pilgrimage
to Saudi Arabia. “I couldn’t make myself
understood in Arabic and was generally ignored,” he said. “But when I switched
to English I was treated with respect.”
It’s a story he tells his students to underline the point: Even in Islam’s holiest places you need the
international language.
The teenagers who head to Pare (population 20,000), a two
hour drive south-west of Surabaya, come from all parts of the Archipelago. To
get here they’ve by-passed established commercial courses like the Swedish
franchise English First, and reputable
universities with language degree programmes.
In Kampong Inggris
the students are spoilt for choice; they can enrol in Sand Course with units for ‘comprehending your complications’ which
can ‘make comfortable listening like steady’; they might also discover that ‘a
rich vocabulary is better than being single’.
Those with universal ambitions can start at Galaxy or Peace. More down-to-earth is
Global and UNESCO. Prefer Europe? Try Britain or Cambridge. No need to get a
visa for the States – Harvard is
here. You can even study underwater with
EACE, which calls itself ‘the English
Aquasition (sic) Course’.
Like the staff at BEC tutors are recruited from the ranks of
past students. There’s believed to be only one native speaker working in Pare –
an American. Kalend’s children and
in-laws are lecturers so academic dissent is unlikely. BEC has chairs and desks
but other courses are conducted on the floor of open sheds.
No government permits needed to start a business so no
prowling inspectors to check credentials. The only capital outlay is for a
whiteboard, street signs and banners; to entice ditherers these should include
images of the Statue of Liberty, London double-decker busses – and even the
Eiffel Tower.
Come to us, learn English and go to Paris. No-one mentions that the Anglophobic French are
reluctant to use any tongue other than their own.
Not all graduate with scrambled syntax. Mohammed Ridho
Fadli, 22, claims his impressive English mastery has come from study in Pare.
He took an undergraduate degree in Bogor before heading to East Java.
“I don’t bother about memorising words,” he said. “Nor do I
think much about grammar. I try to
concentrate on listening to people and watching films. I enjoy the atmosphere here.”
Unlike Saumi and Nanda, Ridho fronts foreigners to sharpen
his language skills which he hopes to use in making tourist videos. He spends
Rp 350,000 (AUD $ 35) a month for a room and a similar amount on food.
Pare is cheap even though Wall Street is nearby.
Courses start from around Rp 150,000 (AUD $15) for a fortnight’s
part-time tuition.
There’s another attraction – the mixed sex environment. For many it’s their first venture afar
without their parents who doubtless feel their darlings will be safe in a
largely Muslim town. In Australia they
might get a world class education but they’d also be exposed to the notorious
‘free sex’ lifestyle.
Melbourne’s Girl
Camp sounds like every adolescent boy’s dream, but it has nothing to do with
love-ins under canvas. In Pare ‘camp’ is a synonym for course.
To serve the influx of outsiders several support businesses
have opened – from bicycle-hire shops to laundries and photocopy kiosks. But no
bars – and with the density of living eliminating privacy couples have to cool
their ardour by licking ice creams confident with their course motto:
‘We’re gonna make you successful with our gatherness.’
###
Pix credit Erlinawati Graham
153a Muhammad
Kalend Osen
167a Mohammed
Ridho Fadli
.
'
(left) arrived in 1978
after studying languages and religion for five years. He met two Islamic
university students from Surabaya wanting to hone their English skills for an
exam. Their chosen tutor had other
commitments so Kalend’s wife, who had inherited a house in Pare, pushed hubby
to take the job.
“I was nervous, I didn’t know whether I’d be successful,” he
said. “I’d never been to teachers’ college.
When my students returned to Surabaya and graduated they attributed
their success to me, told others and the word spread.”
Now 23,000 students later Kalend has a splendid
purpose-built campus where he imposes his own style, discipline and strict
dress rules. BEC’s teaching bears little resemblance to a Western language
college; it’s more like a pesantren (Islamic
boarding school) than the 100 other ‘colleges’ that have followed in his wake
to create Pare’s famous Kampong Inggris
– a term Kalend dislikes.
“It’s not a village and it’s not English,” he said. “It
suggests that everyone speaks the language and that’s certainly not true. But
I’m not bothered. That’s their affair.”
Kalend, 71, was born in East Kalimantan where his future in
the family’s timber business seemed assured.
“But I didn’t plan to spend my life cutting down trees, I
wanted to use my brain,” he said. “I was
also seeking spiritual guidance. I’d
heard of a pesantren in Gontor, East
Java led by a scholar called Kiai Yazid who spoke several languages.
“Also at the pesantren
was an Australian studying Islam and he helped me learn English.”
Despite having never been to an English-speaking country Kalend’s
language skills are remarkable. He’s at ease with idioms. Yet he has never
studied at university and has no formal qualifications. “I’m just a village boy,” he said.
He claims inspiration from American self-improvement
salesman Dale Carnegie’s book How to win
friends and influence people and its message of learning from mistakes.
Surprisingly he found his abilities useful on a pilgrimage
to Saudi Arabia. “I couldn’t make myself
understood in Arabic and was generally ignored,” he said. “But when I switched
to English I was treated with respect.”
It’s a story he tells his students to underline the point: Even in Islam’s holiest places you need the
international language.
The teenagers who head to Pare (population 20,000), a two
hour drive south-west of Surabaya, come from all parts of the Archipelago. To
get here they’ve by-passed established commercial courses like the Swedish
franchise English First, and reputable
universities with language degree programmes.
In Kampong Inggris
the students are spoilt for choice; they can enrol in Sand Course with units for ‘comprehending your complications’ which
can ‘make comfortable listening like steady’; they might also discover that ‘a
rich vocabulary is better than being single’.
Those with universal ambitions can start at Galaxy or Peace. More down-to-earth is
Global and UNESCO. Prefer Europe? Try Britain or Cambridge. No need to get a
visa for the States – Harvard is
here. You can even study underwater with
EACE, which calls itself ‘the English
Aquasition (sic) Course’.
Like the staff at BEC tutors are recruited from the ranks of
past students. There’s believed to be only one native speaker working in Pare –
an American. Kalend’s children and
in-laws are lecturers so academic dissent is unlikely. BEC has chairs and desks
but other courses are conducted on the floor of open sheds.
No government permits needed to start a business so no
prowling inspectors to check credentials. The only capital outlay is for a
whiteboard, street signs and banners; to entice ditherers these should include
images of the Statue of Liberty, London double-decker busses – and even the
Eiffel Tower.
Come to us, learn English and go to Paris. No-one mentions that the Anglophobic French are
reluctant to use any tongue other than their own.
Not all graduate with scrambled syntax. Mohammed Ridho
Fadli, 22, (left) claims his impressive English mastery has come from study in Pare.
He took an undergraduate degree in Bogor before heading to East Java.
“I don’t bother about memorising words,” he said. “Nor do I
think much about grammar. I try to
concentrate on listening to people and watching films. I enjoy the atmosphere here.”
Unlike Saumi and Nanda, Ridho fronts foreigners to sharpen
his language skills which he hopes to use in making tourist videos. He spends
Rp 350,000 (AUD $ 35) a month for a room and a similar amount on food.
Pare is cheap even though Wall Street is nearby.
Courses start from around Rp 150,000 (AUD $15) for a fortnight’s
part-time tuition.
There’s another attraction – the mixed sex environment. For many it’s their first venture afar
without their parents who doubtless feel their darlings will be safe in a
largely Muslim town. In Australia they
might get a world class education but they’d also be exposed to the notorious
‘free sex’ lifestyle.
Melbourne’s Girl
Camp sounds like every adolescent boy’s dream, but it has nothing to do with
love-ins under canvas. In Pare ‘camp’ is a synonym for course.
To serve the influx of outsiders several support businesses
have opened – from bicycle-hire shops to laundries and photocopy kiosks. But no
bars – and with the density of living eliminating privacy couples have to cool
their ardour by licking ice creams confident with their course motto:
‘We’re gonna make you successful with our gatherness.’
###
(First published in Inside Indonesia December 2016)
.
'
