Western visitors make a very visible minority in Indonesia (Bali excluded) and that can lead to some surprising first encounters.
“Bule! Bule! Bule!”
The little girl, maybe three or four years old, was playing on a tricycle just inside the open door of a house. I was following a narrow lane towards a wooded valley when she spotted me walking past and called out in surprise.
“Bule” is the common term Indonesians use for Caucasians. It is not quite pejorative, but not entirely polite, either, having first been used to describe the original Dutch colonizers, who apparently looked so pale the native inhabitants of the Spice Islands mistook them for albinos.
I might have been the first Westerner this child had ever seen in person, as the lane she lived on was in a remote corner of a village just south of Yogyakarta in the middle of Java. I could hear an older female voice – presumably that of the girl’s mother – from deeper inside the house. She also sounded surprised.
The lane, as it turned out, was not just out of the way, it was a dead end, too. It led to the valley, but gave no access to it. I could have climbed over a brick wall (it was not, as many are in Indonesia, topped with barbed wire or embedded shards of glass) and then slid down a steep muddy bank to the edge of a lively stream, but I decided against it.
Instead, I turned around and headed back up the lane, hoping to find a better entrance into the valley. On my way I inevitably passed the girl’s house a second time. She was still in the doorway and her face erupted in redoubled surprise.
“Bule! Bule! Bule!” she shouted again.
I smiled at her, but didn’t stop. I was already around a corner before her mother had a another chance to find out what her daughter was so excited about. What she thought she kept seeing – whether a ghost, a figment of her imagination, or an actual foreigner – I will never know.
Indonesia has a confusing attitude towards outlanders. On the one hand, official Indonesia exercises a great deal of control – perhaps justifiably considering the centuries of colonial subjugation under the Dutch and the years of brutal occupation by the Japanese. Foreigners face stringent restrictions over finding jobs, buying property and seeking citizenship.
On the other hand, many ordinary Indonesians are fascinated by foreigners and are eager to talk with them, or have their pictures taken with them. However, ordinary people can appear suspicious of strangers, especially if they see a Bule man with a local woman. A judgmental streak is often revealed through intense stares or muttered comments. Fortunately, sometimes appearances can be deceiving.
One day while sitting on a bench eating sate (chicken shish kebab) with a female friend beside Jalan Malioboro – a Yogyakarta street where foreigners are a fairly common sight – I noticed two Indonesian men standing a few meters away staring at us intently. They worried me, not only because of their serious expressions, but because each man was large and imposing and wore a black leather jacket studded with chrome. When they saw I had noticed them staring, they approached us. I tensed for a confrontation.
“Hello mister,” the larger of the two said as a big smile cracked his unshaven face. “Photo?”
He wagged an index finger back and forth from him to me while he continued smiling and nodding hopefully. Of course I agreed. So many Indonesians love to have their photos taken with tourists. My friend made way to let the man sit in her place. He threw his large left arm across my shoulders and hugged me to his side as he smiled even broader and held a thumbs-up in front of us. His friend had the camera and he too smiled and nodded as he snapped several pictures. Then they switched places. Afterwards they thanked me profusely before walking away.
Being in a minority in one of the most populous countries on Earth quickly becomes old hat, but being a kind of imported tourist attraction for the locals takes a bit more getting used to. Even in the capital Jakarta – which has always hosted a sizable expat community – the fascination of the residents for foreigners seems endless.
One of the best places to experience this is in Fatahillah Square in Kota Tua, aka the Old City. The large open space is popular for locals and tourists alike and, knowing that tourists are to be found there, teachers often send their classes to the square with assignments to fulfill.
More than once I have strolled across Fatahillah on a sunny day only to suddenly find myself surrounded by a gang of teenagers in school uniforms.
“Hello mister!” They greet me with excitement before shyly seeking permission to interview me. “It is for a class project. We must practise our English.”
The questions are always the same, always read from a prepared list. “Where are you from? How long have you been in Indonesia? Do you like Indonesia? What is your favorite part of Indonesia? Have you tried Indonesian food? What is your favorite Indonesian food?”
Usually only one of the students asks the questions while another one films the interview on a mobile phone. All the others stand in a semi-circle listening closely and smiling brightly. Afterwards they all want their photos taken with you.
This is what all visitors to Indonesia should know. Initially, an encounter anywhere in the country with any man, woman, or child brings out a serious, even suspicious expression. However, as soon as you say hello in a friendly way, you get something wonderful, something truly Indonesian, in return: A big, beautiful smile.
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