Bule!

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  Medan, North Sumatra, Indonesia
Tuesday, August 14, 2007

After a month in Medan, now I know what an orangutan feels like.

Everywhere I go-usually in a becak, a motorcycle with a sidecar attached to it so I feel like a baby riding in a pram-people stare and shout "Bule!" as if they've never seen a white person before.

The scenario bears an uncanny resemblance to the jungle, when we spotted a wild male orangutan up in the trees. Our first reaction: we stared, then shouted "Orangutan!", interrupting the poor thing when he was just trying to have his lunch in peace. He elected to ignore us for a while as he munched on figs. Then, tired of being scrutinized, he swung off out of sight where he would be unseen and undisturbed.

Whether orangutan or human, all living things are subject to the law of physics that states the behaviour of the observed always changes when being observed. Aware of eyes upon us, we walk a little taller or try to shrink from sight; we want to show off our most attractive aspects or discourage the scrutiny with baleful looks or acts of aggression.

Abdul, a semi-wild orangutan, likes to show off for the cameras at the feeding platform, pleased to be the centre of attention. When we were there, he hung from a tree branch in what he knew to be a striking pose, showing off for the cluster of amused shutterbugs surrounding him. Then, for maximum effect, he placed a firm hand on the back of my leg and smiled.

On arrival, I, too, basked in the attention of admiring onlookers, feeling like the star of my own life story. Back in Vancouver, beautiful people are as common as macaques. But here, it's enough to be western, to have blonde hair and blue eyes. There are so few people like us in Sumatra that we stand out in a crowd. In Medan, a city of four million-the same size population as Vancouver-there are probably less than 500 bule. We are as rare in the city as orangutans in the forest.

I'm routinely surrounded by crowds of schoolchildren, excitedly taking snapshots, wanting to touch my hair, just as I did the plush ginger hair of my jungle relatives. Even my students do it. Like Abdul, I've enjoyed showing off a bit, thinking of my photos being shown to their friends ("Look! I saw a bule today!"). I've posed at least a hundred times, aping for the camera and showing off my best side.

But day in, day, out, people pointing and aiming their cameras, shouting and whistling at me gets a bit much. Like the wild male orangutan, most of the time I try to be oblivious of the stares because they are such a common part of daily life. I just go about my business at Sun Plaza or in the market, yet still aware of eyes on me at all times, especially when I stumble over a section of crumbled sidewalk or have a choking attack when I accidentally eat a whole chili in my fried rice.

But now that I am a denizen of Medan, sometimes all I want to do is ride my becak from point A to point B in peace without people ducking under the awning to get a better look at me. Or I just want to walk to the store without being followed by a crowd of gawkers wanting to practice their English. I get tired from lugging groceries in the heat, and I just want to be left alone. So I flee back to my house for a rest, out of the sight of prying eyes.

Reactions also depend on one's mood. Ucok, the wild alpha male who lives near the orangutan feeding platform, has been known to show off like Abdul, with some beautiful shots of his smiling mug on some postcards as a result. But he was feeling surly when we found him-perhaps a fight with one of the wives that day-and his alpha male tendencies came to a boil. Enough! He chased us down the path twice to make sure we cleared off.

One of his wives, Mina, is downright pathological, attacking and biting guides and tourists, even sinking her teeth into Immanuel's leg once when he was a ranger attempting to feed her bananas and milk at the platform. I haven't resorted to such violence at the onslaught of attention, but have certainly felt like it when the ogling denigrated into groping by some seedy character in a bar, an Abdul in tight pants.

Recently, when I was at the beach near Medan, a circle of people formed to stare at me as I ate my lunch. I was aware, but kept placidly eating; it was my friends Rahmah and Dee Dee who started getting pissed off. Both Indonesian English teachers, they've been around enough bules for the novelty to wear off. "What are they staring at?" Rahmah huffed, and gave them dirty looks. "Look, they're all just standing around, gawking. What a nerve!" Hm. Could be because I was the only "orangutan" for miles.

We're such a rare species that even I have taken to staring at a bule when I spot one. Nine times out of 10, they stare sullenly past me or give a half-hearted attempt at a smile. So like a bule! Once, when Duan and I were staying at a hotel on the main drag near the Polonia airport, we spotted two glaringly blonde bules with large backpacks attempting to cross the street.

"Hm, fresh meat," Duan observed with a chuckle as we watched them  dashing across the busy intersection with that classic bewildered expression on their faces so common in newly arrived bules (I'm sure I wore it too and still do at times), heads swivelling this way and that to avoid a stray bus. The boyfriend's shin was streaming with blood--he'd probably fallen victim to one of the gaping holes in the sidewalks. When I saw them in the lobby I smiled at them, but they only regarded me with suspicion.

Most of the time I take the Abdul route and smile disarmingly when I find I am being observed. Nine times out of 10, the person smiles back. It's just curiousity; I understand it now because I've reacted the same way on my jungle adventures. We are all human, even if we look different. In fact, "orang" means person, and refers to all people, including orang Indonesia, orang Canadian and orang of the forest.

Karyn and I have made a joke of it and started calling each other bule. When spot each other at Vigo's, the local grocery store, or at the mall, we'll call, "Yo, bule!" The cashiers and customers find it pretty amusing. And we're a real sight in a becak-not one but two blondes cruising down the jalan to the familiar resounding cries, hiding behind our sunglasses like Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan, not stopping to pose for photographs. If only Abdul were with us, we'd make a real sight.

We've even taken to pointing back at the pointers and shouting back, "orang Indonesia!" which usually gets a good laugh, especially from the becak driver, because Indonesians are essentially a good natured lot. So if you're a bule and you come here, it's important to understand that. And also that you could live here for 20 years, speak fluent Indonesian, and you will still be a bule-the object of attention, admiration and ridicule. So get used to it. The orangutans have to.

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