Between Two Worlds: Finding Home in Qatar as an Indonesian Expat

"For most people, home is where their roots are. For me, home has always been where my life is - and that's Qatar."

Introduction: Between two worlds

Growing up in Qatar, I always felt more at home in the desert than I ever did in Indonesia. The golden dunes, the towering skylines and the sound of the call to prayer in every direction were the backdrop of my childhood - a rhythm I knew by heart. In contrast, every visit to Indonesia felt like stepping into an unfamiliar world, where the streets, the languages, and even the expectations seemed foreign to me. I often felt like a tourist rather than a local, disconnected from a culture I was supposed to call my own. 

Growing up between two cultures has often made me question where I truly belong. While I've always identified as Indonesian, it's Qatar that feels like home. It's here, in a land far from my roots that I've found comfort, acceptance and connection. Growing up between these two worlds has shaped not only how I see myself but also how I navigate the complexities of identity and belonging. 

The Struggle Of Feeling Like A Stranger In My Homeland

Every visit to Indonesia felt like a reunion with strangers, The streets bustled with sights and sounds I vaguely recognized but couldn't fully grasp - vendors shouting in a slang-heavy Indonesian I didn't understand, neighbours chatting with warmth that felt just out of reach. I remember visiting a family gathering where everyone seemed to speak in rapid, animated bursts of Bahasa. Though I could follow parts of the conversation - the jokes, the proverbs and the cultural references flew over my head. I laughed along politely but deep down, I felt like an outsider looking in. 

When I was younger, I spoke so much Bahasa Indonesia that it felt like second nature to me. I'd chat with my parents, play with cousins, and even argue in Bahasa, without a second thought. But as I grew older, the words started to fade, slipping through my fingers like sand. Every time someone would say something in Indonesian, I'd find myself hesitating, unsure if I knew the right answer. "What does that mean?" I'd ask, hoping someone could explain. But instead of a simple answer, my relatives would chuckle and say, "How do you not know that? You're Indonesian!" Their laughter wasn't unkind, but it stung all the same, as if I was expected to remember things that had slowly disappeared from my memory.

The disconnect wasn't just in the language---it extended to the traditions too. My parents both spoke Bahasa Jawa, a language that felt like a link to my deeper roots. But despite their fluency, they never taught me, leaving me to grow up with no understanding of it. I would hear snippets of it between them, a secret code that always felt out of reach.

When it came to questions about culture or customs, I often found myself pausing before responding. Someone would ask, "How do you say this in Indonesian?" or "What do you think of this tradition?" and I'd feel a wave of uncertainty wash over me. I wasn't sure what the "right" answer was anymore, caught between the version of Indonesian culture I'd learned from my family and the reality of a life spent so far away.

Each time I hesitated, it was like another reminder that I wasn't fully connected to the culture I was supposed to belong to. My relatives would poke fun, but their teasing made it clear: I no longer fit into a culture I once felt so close to. It wasn't just the language that had slipped away---it was a part of my identity, one I didn't even realize I was losing until I found myself unable to reconnect.

Finding Comfort in Qatar: A Place of Belonging

The streets of Qatar were my compass, etched into my memory like a map I never needed to unfold. From the towering skyline of West Bay to the quiet sandy stretches of the Corniche, every corner carried the rhythm of a life I had always known. School wasn't just a place of learning - it was a world of its own, a melting pot of cultures where the boundaries of geography and tradition blurred. In a single classroom, I was surrounded by classmates from every corner of the globe, each bringing their own stories, traditions and perspective to the table.

Friendships formed in Qatar were unlike any I've had elsewhere. We were all expats, in a way, navigating life in a country that wasn't our own but felt like home nonetheless. There was an unspoken bond among us, a shared understanding of what it meant to live between cultures. My closest friends came from countries I had never even visited, yet our differences felt like bridges rather than barriers. 

School life mirrored this celebration of diversity. Potluck lunches were culinary adventures, with dishes ranging from biryani to nasi goreng to shawarma, each representing a piece of someone's home. International Day was one of the most anticipated events, a day where we wore our national costumes with pride, danced to songs from around the world, and sampled cuisines that made the school feel like a global festival. These experiences didn't just teach me about other cultures---they shaped my understanding of identity and belonging.

Outside of school, Qatar's routines offered their own kind of comfort. The rhythm of Friday mornings, often marked by family brunches or quiet walks along the Corniche, felt universal, bridging the gap between the familiar and the foreign. Ramadan was especially magical, with iftar gatherings that brought people together regardless of background or belief. National Day celebrations lit up the streets, a vibrant reminder of the unity in diversity that defined life in Qatar.

Qatar taught me that life is more than just the routines of a single culture---it's about the connections we form, the traditions we create, and the shared experiences that become the foundation of who we are. It wasn't just the backdrop of my childhood; it was the heartbeat of it, shaping me into someone who sees the beauty in differences and the strength in community.

Navigating a Hybrid Identity: Embracing Both Cultures

It took me months to realize that it's okay to feel more connected to the place where you grew up, even if it's not the country written on your passport. For the longest time, I have always felt guilty about how much Qatar felt like home. The desert landscapes, the quiet routines of Fridays, the diversity of my schoolmate - all these things shaped me in ways Indonesia never did. But eventually, I learned that connection isn't always tied to heritage, it's about where you feel most yourself.

Accepting this didn't come easily. Growing up between two cultures often felt like walking a tightrope, trying to balance expectations rom both sides. Was I Indonesian enough for my relatives back home? Was I too Indonesian to fully belong in Qatar? Over time, I realized that my identity didn't need to fit neatly into one box. It could be a mix, a patchwork of influences stitched together by my experiences. I didn't have to choose between being Indonesian or being someone shaped by Qatar. I could be both.

One of the most liberating lessons was learning how to celebrate both sides of my identity. In Qatar, I found ways to incorporate Indonesian values into my daily life - whether it was sharing Indonesian food with my friends. Teaching them a few words in Bahasa or practicing the cultural respect that my family has taught me. At the same time, I embraced the international diversity of Qatar, a country that taught me to see the world through a wider lens.

This blend of influences has become a strength rather than a sources of conflict. I've learned that identity isn't about choosing one side over the other; its about embracing the unique combination of cultures, experiences and values that make you who you are. Its okay fo home to feel like more than one place. And it's okay to carry pieces of both with you, wherever you go. 

Conclusion: Home is Where The Heart Is, Even If It's in Between

Looking back, I've learned that my journey between two cultures wasn't about choosing one over the other---it was about embracing both. The disconnect I felt in Indonesia, the teasing from relatives, and the moments of uncertainty have all shaped my understanding of identity. But Qatar, with its diversity and sense of community, showed me that home isn't just a place---it's where I truly belong, where I feel most myself.

By embracing both Indonesian and Qatari influences, I've discovered that my identity is a blend of experiences, values, and memories. I don't need to prove my connection to one culture or the other; instead, I've learned to celebrate the richness in both. My life in Qatar has become as much a part of me as my Indonesian roots. Home doesn't have to be one place---it's wherever I find connection and acceptance.