Doing Their Own Thing

We all want something that is uniquely ours, something we can identify with, whether it’s a job, a home or a car. The reasons for our wants vary: Some want out of necessity, others out of desire. Yet there is a single, unifying thread for the things we want: self-fulfillment.

It’s not the size of a house, or the price of a car, or the larger-than-life office space on the 20th floor of a massive city tower – no, there’s something far more profound in the way we choose to live our lives, something significantly greater than anything we had ever imagined, which cannot be measured by anything other than the devotion we pledge to our own aspiration.

Sure, that sounds like something out of a Hallmark card. If anything, it makes us sound selfish or, worse, conceited, but that’s not what it is. In Western societies, it is called an ideal: a value in a person’s life that leads them to pursue their goals in a persistent manner. In Eastern society, however, it may pass as an overly individualistic (or Westernized) philosophy that goes against the collective value of the majority of the people.

Right now, there is a shifting of values between East and West, as societies become more modern and priorities are restacked. Though it still prevails in some places, most of us have moved past the customs and traditions that force us to live as our predecessors have lived. We are no longer interested in comfort: We seek challenges, yearn for beauty, meaning and purpose – even if it means living in a remote desert somewhere halfway across the world, or leaving behind the people we love most.

“The first question people always ask me is ‘Why’,” says Martinus Olga, when interviewed via an instant messenger service. Originally from Jakarta, today he is a backpacker who has spent the past 18 months couch-hopping from one stranger’s home to another across South America.

“Why would I want to live this kind of life? There’s no money to be made, there’s absolutely no sense of security, and basically – to them – I’m just wasting my time.”

Martinus supports himself by doing community work and temping at local NGOs.

“And I understand where they’re coming from, but that doesn’t mean I have to live their lives.

For me, this is what’s important: seeing what I’ve seen, meeting the people I’ve met. This is my life.”

Agustinus Wibowo, also a backpacker, whose journey in the past three years has taken him across Southeast, East and Central Asia, expresses the same sentiment.

“My parents worry about me, of course. I worry about myself, too, sometimes,” he says. “But that’s a small thing compared to what I’ve gained throughout my journey. I cannot imagine not doing what I’m doing now, because this is the only reason I can feel at ease with myself, the reason I can sleep at night, knowing that tomorrow is a mystery, a gift.”

In 2005, Agus took a 44-hour train ride from Beijing to Mongolia, hoping to spend a few weeks there. He hasn’t come back. Instead, he went on to explore India, Pakistan, Tibet, Nepal and other countries until he reached Afghanistan, where he is going to stay until late this year, after which he plans to explore the Middle East.

“I believe life is supposed to be a journey,” he says. “There are still so many places I want to see, like the so-called nonexistent countries of the Caucasus – Nagorno-Karabakh, Abhkazia, etc. – or Africa.”

Then there are those who do it for the good of others.

Ferdinand Siregar is a single, 34-year-old human resources and organizational development manager at an international organization in Chad, whose life fulfillment is derived from “delivering humanitarian assistance to local communities”.

“Everyone is destined to develop their areas of interests as well as to achieve their goals in life,” he says. “For me, to follow the ‘right’ societal norms (i.e., getting married, etc.) would be very limiting to my goals as an international aid worker.”

What’s even more conflicting is that the so-called “correct” norms usually come in a time-based package: By the age of 35, a woman is expected to have married and mothered at least one child; by the age of 40, a man is expected to have married and established a successful career path for himself, or at least be on his way there. Not the most fulfilling goals for either gender, as it turns out.

“Sylvia” is a 39-year-old business executive who is determined to achieve her goal of opening her own bed and breakfast before she turns 45. Unmarried and single, she has had her fair share of failed relationships, followed by nagging comments from friends and family members who beg her to find Mr. Right before it’s too late. They even press her to consider a particular Mr. Wrong.

“I don’t feel like I should settle for something less than what I deserve,” says Sylvia, who has recently taken up permanent residency in Singapore. “So what if I’m still single at my age? Who cares, anyway? You see, people think there’s a blueprint somewhere which outlines the way we all have to live. But there isn’t. I’m happy with my life, why can’t they be happy for me?”

Older, more conservative generations probably believe there is a blueprint for everything life has to offer, for the choices we make and the opportunities we should or shouldn’t take. In their days, anything that was said or done which didn’t fit into the local custom or tradition was perceived as a rebellious act, or an insult to the community at large – and it all took place about a decade or so ago.

In the late 1980s or the 1990s, the employee turnover was nowhere near today’s number of some 200 employees leaving jobs every 30 days in Greater Jakarta alone. Back then, most of us used to work the same jobs, live in the same house and keep the same phone number. The new generation, on the other hand, flits from job to job, home to home, and changes phone numbers as often as they change clothes.

Yet some wonder if perhaps we are a little less patient and get bored a lot more easily.

“We’re a generation that expects instant gratification,” says Sylvia. “Whatever we want or need, we must have it now. Not tomorrow, not an hour or a minute later: now. And just as quickly as we get it, we move on to other things.”

Martinus agrees. “I would blame it on modernization,” he says. “The more we progress, the further we move away from the basic things in life, which then encourages us to look for them: nature, people, even ourselves.”

In 2006, Martinus left his job as a marketing manager at a food company based in Jakarta to backpack across South America, starting with Mexico. He doesn’t know when the journey will end, nor does he care.

“Look, maybe I’m totally crazy,” he says. “But this is who I am and this is what I have chosen to do with my life. I’m … what was the word you used: fulfilled? Yeah, that’s it.”

Illustration by Staven Andersen

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