WELCOME TO MOTOR BEBEK COUNTRY

I want to invite you all to experience something like Fear Factor. But this time you will see no video or camera.

Let us walk the street in Jakarta. Any street. You know, it wouldn't matter which you pick, you will meet them. Yes I am talking about ubiquitous motorcycles. With more than four million units are sold every year (the 2005 sales reached five million, for your information), you have already seen them roaring the street. And because of this, they deserve all unimaginable.

Let's start the excitement with the pavement. The pavement is supposed to be a haven for pedestrians, because, you know, it is the only road parts not allowed for wheeled vehicles. But, their excuse is that the roads are not big enough to contain them and these riders are in a hurry for somewhere. It is always your fault to stand in their way. I watched RCTI reporting one man, having scolded a man on a his motorcycle for his traffic reversing attitude, and he was beaten almost to death. I don't know what happened next to him.

Crossing the street too is another you can not miss. You see the traffic coming from your right when crossing the street. But to add the excitement, the riders are entitled to come from right and your left. You can not curse because here one curse leads to another bigger curse or even black and blue on your body. I know one man was hit by a police officer and this poor man was lectured by, well, that police officer that he should have looked his right and left before crossing the street. So, if you don't want to get run down in this street game, look both ways.

Eternity and danger seem so real when you wait for the traffic (the motorcycle traffic) to relent to allow you to cross the street. Simple, they know only two speed modes; Fast and Faster. They seem so humiliated to see the road they are on and just want to get past of it, as very, very fast as they could. On the streets near Halim Perdana Kusuma Airport, on Kuningan street, every morning, you would see them run at 160 km/hr or more. All of them. And I am talking hundreds. And this is the fun; crossing means declaring you are ready to be run into, at their will. Being on foot on the street here is like a pariah who can not claim any rights as a citizen.

Only when one dignitary or a politician's son gets hit (and run down by these bikes) will this game stop. In the meantime, enjoy.