Ross McKay’s latest novel ‘Jakarta Suckers!’, bule-prostitute romance blossoms on Jl Falatehan.
Having only recently begun following the thread about ‘Dating Indonesian Girls‘, I was intrigued by the variety of wounded westerners/bules littering its back-roads, intrigued and mildly miffed that I hadn’t time to revise my latest work of fiction to include more of their experiences.
But JAKARTA SUCKERS! (out now, from Morfiny Books, 85000 rupiah, available from morfinybooks@yahoo.ca or PM me – free delivery in Jabotabek) is still a useful read for anybody who hangs out after dark in the dives of the Big Durian.
My first experiment in writing in the first person, it centres on a guy named Barrie (who, once you read the book, you’ll know is not me!) and his dalliance with a slapper named Losari. Having gotten into her, he finds it hard to disentangle himself, because he thinks she’s “different!”
Some cynics say you can always tell if a bar-girl is lying, because you can see her lips move. I don’t agree – just ask her what she wants to drink and she’s guaranteed to tell the truth!
But cewek2 licik and bule2 gila will continue to interact, because they’re made for each other. And it is mutually advantageous, as the former get richer and the latter get wiser.
I have frequented Jaksa and Falatehan for a decade or more and listened to many a forlorn fellow lamenting how he was taken for a ride by these delightful demimondes, so it seemed timely to fictionalise their down-falls.
But to make it more fun I applied my colourful imagination to embed the morality tale in an adventure yarn, which I hope only emphasises the point. Mendacity begets misfortune. The story also gives hints on how to detect prevarication, with anecdotal evidence as ‘awful warnings’ to new kids on the block.
I enjoyed writing it so much that I’m already started on my next.
(Why a Prostitute?)
Again, sage old bules will ask you why you’d expect a hooker here in Jakarta, or in Bangkok, to be good settling-down material. If you want a soul-mate in Michigan, or Manitoba, or Manchester, you’d not go rushing down to the red-light district, would you? And nor would I. Having commuted through King’s Cross Station in London at all hours of day or night for several years, and seen how frightful the hookers there are, it would seem an act of madness to go prospecting for a partner in that sort of locale.
But the girls here are not the same as prostitutes in the West, who have alternatives, not least to do what so many young women do there and sponge off the welfare state. There are millions of poor people here with no prospect of real jobs and not a trace of any serious welfare system to tide them over until an economic miracle arrives. They include large numbers of young, and not so young, women, who often have elderly parents who depend on them, or babies to feed, or, sadly, shiftless husbands or live-in lovers who whack ‘em around if they don’t go out and bring home sustenance.
So what do they do? They are not, many of them, stupid, and they are, most of them, attractive. Indonesian women are magnificent specimens of their sex, and we bules, by our reactions, remind them of this daily.
(Why a Bule?)
So the girls go out for bules, not because we have big dicks, though they tell us that, nor because we are handsome or consummate raconteurs, though they give us to believe those things too (lies, remember?) but because we have money, in amounts they can only dream about. English teachers are on the lowest rung of expat salary levels, and their pay is equivalent, so I’m told, to about the same as a judge’s or a middle-ranking police officer’s. (though those fine fellows have ways of supplementing incomes not open to the teachers)
The girls in the bars see it as their mission in life to detach us from our cash. Or more precisely, detach the cash from us, because they don’t want us, they want the nice green stuff.
To this end, guided by the imperatives of survival, and advancement – which means buying plots of land back in their kampungs, building a house on it, and boosting their bank account to a level whereby their ‘post-sell-by’ date in bar-life will be comfortable – they will tell you whatever you want to hear, or whatever they think will motivate those dollar bills and pound notes to flit from your pockets to their purses.
This goes far beyond haggling over bed-fees. It encompasses gulling the dumbest into financing courses in hair-dressing or typing or anything the poor sod will believe is a stepping stone to ‘liberation’ from a life of sin!
Big Yuli, not the scrawny little Yuli from Tebet who got a few hundred out of me to pay her dad’s debts, but the gal with enormous assets who did the ‘Johnny Andrean’ on me, yes, the full monty hair-dressing course, never actually convinced me she wanted a new career, but I was so fixated on her chest at the time that I happily handed over the money.
It is not easy for not being a little bit emotional when we touch grey area like this, I agree with Deta. Like me, for the first time I felt offended when reading Ross’s excerpt and if I didn’t see that it’s as just a portrait of a tiny bit different segment in prostitution business and not represent the whooolee… population, it’s easy to fall into scapegoat game again. Oigal’s presumption on “being in foreigner market as the top of hooking career” was a little bit stinging too and I almost burst my complaint, but for different reason. But it’s okay now, since Oigal made it clear.
Oh, by the way, I searched the history of hiv/aids last night, and I almost fell from my chair because I laughed so hard. I found that the conspiracy theory DOES mentioned! that the virus is man-made and distributed worldwide by secret agents (you know who they are…*grin*… CIA, Jews, westerners) to wipe out black people and gay men. I thought it was a joke. It isn’t! The other theories are like hunting-killing monkeys, unsterilized needles, and direct contact and others bla bla bla….
Of course, the conspiracy theory is tend to be highly inaccurate. I cannot imagine some guys from the west created a lethal virus and spread it to monkeys in Africa when at 1880s they were busy to fight numbers of epidemic diseases like flu, cholera, smallpox in their own countries (some sources said that the virus existed since around 1880s). Or that a bunch of Jews visited Africa looongg… time ago just for having sex with monkeys and therefore they got infected? Come on! They must be really crazy dudes!
Yeah, and maybe pretty fun too to use it to scare kids at camps.
@ET:
It could be. But it’s not always their favorite meal, I think, as Ross mentioned it in his story about Kalijodo. So maybe they charge foreigners more, but not always making them as main target.
Grrh! I was hoping you’re not saying that. Now I have less room to debate Oigal’s point! because if most of markets doing that, it could be the same too for meat market.
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Police and auxies alike are infamous for their abuse of women.
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Yeah, it happen a lot. Some said that they have to pay it with sex if they want to be released. They had to give free service for the security officers, the criminal gangs, and split money for them too. I visited one of ciblek’s house long time ago, and I kinda lost my words. She’s poor, her house was cold and ugly, and she had to work to help her parents to buy enough food. Imagine what kind of animals that forced her to split her money when she really need it for her family.