Among the many eye-opening moments I experienced during my time as an international election observer in Indonesia, one memory stands out not for its procedural importance but for its emotional and cultural significance—the way we, the Filipino NAMFREL delegation, were received by the Indonesian people.
In any international mission, you expect professionalism, a degree of diplomacy, and perhaps a bit of detachment. But what we encountered in Indonesia was more than that. We were not just welcomed—we were embraced. There was a warmth and sincerity in how local officials, volunteers, and ordinary citizens received us that, frankly, went beyond the usual courtesies extended to foreign observers. It felt personal.
I remember arriving in Jember and being greeted by local organizers and election officers who treated us as partners, not mere guests. They introduced us with pride, ensured our comfort, and involved us in their daily routine—not out of obligation, but out of genuine hospitality. We were given access, but more than that, we were given trust.
Among the various international observer groups—Americans, Australians, Japanese, Europeans—it was the Filipino team that seemed to garner the most affection. There was a kinship between Indonesians and Filipinos that defied language and protocol. Perhaps it was our shared colonial history, our common Southeast Asian heritage, or our collective struggles for democracy. Whatever it was, it made our presence more than symbolic—it made it meaningful.
Local counterparts from Forum Rektor, the Indonesian version of NAMFREL, worked with us side by side. They didn’t just guide us; they listened to us, asked about our own experiences in the Philippines, and even shared stories about how the People Power Revolution inspired them. It was incredibly moving to know that our country’s democratic journey had left a mark beyond our borders. The admiration they expressed wasn’t just for our systems, but for our spirit—for the way ordinary Filipinos stood up to dictatorship and reclaimed democracy with their bare hands and unshakable will.
We also felt that respect reflected in the way people responded to our presence in the polling stations. Voters would nod or smile when introduced to us. Election officials went out of their way to show us each step of the process, explain every form, answer every question. And this wasn’t done out of fear of judgment—it was done with pride, as if to say, “Look at what we are building. Come and see.”
That human connection made the experience more than an academic observation. It became a cultural exchange, an affirmation of solidarity between two nations navigating their own paths to political maturity. And in those moments, I felt the true purpose of international observation—not merely to certify fairness, but to bear witness, to learn, and to grow together.
As we concluded our mission and prepared to return home, I carried with me not just notes and reports, but also stories, friendships, and a renewed sense of hope. The Indonesians had opened their doors to us, but more importantly, they opened their hearts. And for that, I remain deeply grateful.
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