Posts tagged Asia
I have just returned to Bangkok from a fifteen day visit to Myanmar during the closing chapter of my travels in South East Asia. The two weeks I spent travelling in Yangon, Mandalay, Bagan and the Shan State were perhaps the most enlightening and profound of the past five months.
Tomorrow I shall return to Europe and begin work on documenting some of the findings that came about as a consequence of my travels. Indeed, I plan on updating the ‘Photographs’ and ‘Films’ sections of this page in the coming weeks in order to provide a detailed outline with regards to what I witnessed.
In accordance with my latest series of posts, please see below a collection of photos taken during my time in Vientiane, the capital of Laos.
A short entry I put together concerning my first visit to the Thar Heritage Museum in Jaisalmer, India, on 12th September 2011. I have a short video series to go with this document that I hope to be able to post as soon as I find myself with a good Internet connection and a spare day to catch up with things. Tomorrow morning I will leave Luang Prabang for Phonsavan, Laos.
The Thar Heritage Museum is located down a backstreet of Jaisalmer’s main bazaar, which is a fair trek from the city fort, at least in the blistering heat that is customary for the region. The cows do a good job of blocking the main drag as they gurn on plastic bags and other rubbish they find piled up on the corner of every side street, while auto-rickshaws and motorbikes blast their horns at every available opportunity as the shop keepers call and beckon every white person that walks past. It is a busy place to say the least; full of bright colours and peculiar odours, busy people and unexpected wildlife. That only makes finding the Thar Heritage Museum more interesting, in that the location of the bulding adds yet another quirky dimension to this already out-of-the-way and less frequented attraction.
I first read about the museum in the Roughguide to Rajasthan, Delhi and Agra. The book, which I happened to be borrowing from my Sister, had so far been a trustworthy and reliable source of information on the trip so far and it had promised a rather interesting experience at this museum in particular. The Roughguide mentions that despite the exhibition being interesting enough on as it stands, it is brought to life by the sole collector of items, Mr Laxmi Khatri, who is able to accompany on your tour of the museum ‘if he is on hand’. Upon arriving at the museum, it appeared as though he was not. A young boy sat twiddling his thumbs at a table by the entrance and bolted up the stairs to unlock the museum for us as soon as we popped our heads curiously around the door. ‘Please. Go.’, he said before pelting out off the entrance through which we had came as we made our way slowly up the steps towards what we understood to be an exhibition. The room was dark and random assortments of items belonging to different areas of interest lay cluttered around the floor below shelves of nik naks associated with camels, pottery and religion. Before no time at all, Mr Kharti appeared. “Welcome to the museum!” he said as he made mad dashes about the place, turning on light switches and fans. “You are the first visitors here in over a week!”… this was almost akin to what I had been hearing from rick-shaw drivers across Rajasthan for the past two weeks – “you are my first customer of the day” they would say, as if that would make a difference to the amount of money they would receive in addition to their fee. Mr Khatri however, had an element of honesty in his voice that clung to chipped and flaking walls around the museum. He then introduced himself formally, “My name is Laxmi N. Khatri”, he said, “and you are?”. We briefly introduced ourselves and he launched straight into an academic flow about the items that surrounded us. It was a fascinating journey; not only was Mr Kharti responsible for collecting each of these items and displaying them, he also paid for the rent of the building and the maintenance of the place out of his own pocket. “It is not cheap to keep this place going” he said in a sad tone, “but I feel like I have to. People come here and they want to learn about the Thar heritage and culture, and this is the only place where they can really do that”. I pressed him on this issue as there were several museums in town that offered information and exhibitions on desert culture. “Yes, that is very true” he said, “but they are all funded by the government and therefore only exhibit things about the social elite. They do not show anything about the real lives of the working people of Jaisalmer and the Thar desert people”. He proceed to explain in great detail a whole host of items used for cooking and calculating measurements. As if this were not interesting enough, he then led the way back down the stairs we had come up and into a smaller room where he had two small exhibits; the first was called ‘Opium Party’, which comprised of a series of items arranged in such a way that shed light on how the desert men spent their evenings chasing the dragon, and, ‘The Office’, which was one of the most intriguing displays I have ever seen at any museum, ever. It consisted of a seating area and a desk, surrounded by hand written volumes documenting transactions between local business people and passing travellers from all over Asia. The exhibition also hosted scales, weights and gadgets all from the same period, which would most certainly be a fascinating for any economic historian interested in the region.
The sad thing about ‘The Office’ and every other part of the museum, was the state in which these items were in. Nothing seemed to be well kept or preserved, despite their cultural value and significance, instead they lay in piles around the floor. This was the best that Mr Kharti could do when taking his finances into account, even though he had received honours from Indian state officials and academics in the past, his museum severely lacks the funding and attention it needs. The majority of the tourists that come through Jaisalmer are part of large organised groups, that do not go to the Thar Heritage museum because of its run down state and lac of prestige. The objects and items there are only really brought to life my Mr Khatri himself and he can not cater for more than small groups of about ten tourists at a time – though he is rarely graced with such numbers. We shot a few clips of Mr Kharti in action and I am trying to work with Mr Khatri in putting together a new website for the museum, though at the present time he is seemingly difficult to contact. If you find yourself anywhere near the Thar Desert in the future, I more than recommend paying the museum a visit – it is definitely a must.
Mr Khati curating items in ‘The Office’
India has certainly been keeping me occupied; five days in this hyper-complicated, ultra-shambolic and uber-pretty country have already provided me with enough tales to tire my grandchildren through their adolescence. Four days in Mumbai simply slaughtered any preconceptions I had of that ever tumultuous metropolis, while my first day in Udaipur has been like a soul-massage. Having said that, Udaipur also seems to thrive on its own hotbed of chaos despite it being home to some of the most beautiful landscapes I have ever seen.
I am keeping a detailed journal of daily events, which is now up to date after this evening’s gin sipping session on the rooftop restaurant of my hotel. This is certainly a country of contrasts, but it is one that I can see myself falling in love with as the days flutter past like lotus flowers in a cyclone.
To celebrate my documentary film ‘The Veddas’ being made available online for the first time, I have decided to re-post a short story I wrote for High Contrast Review.
THE VEDDAS
by Daniel Emmerson
The young boy grappled patiently with the hem of my trouser leg. The sweltering heat was forever present as my milky shins greeted the light of day behind their mask of rugged denim. It was then that I realised what all the shouting had been about.
I was sitting on a rock in the middle of the Mahayangana jungle, Sri Lanka, surrounded by tribesmen as a brave young boy peeled land leeches from my skin. His head bobbed up and down as to inspect the condition of my ravaged limbs before he went to pluck the insidious annelids head first with his fingernails. Spiked leech tongues disgorged into my thighs and calves as they sucked incalculable amounts of blood from my legs. I felt a surge of weakness. It wasn’t until we had started walking through the long grass that I began to feel a tingling beneath my trouser legs. I imagined it to be sweat as we were no longer wading through the protective shade provided by the plentiful Ceylon Ironwoods and Indian Rose Chestnuts. The tribesmen started to shout and ushered me to a large rock once they realised we were trekking in leech territory. The young boy tugged, ripping the jagged tongue of the first leech from just below my knee cap, blood trickled afterward.
I pulled my video camera from the bag strapped to my shoulder and hit record in time to capture the second and third leeches as they were pulled from my flesh. This was by no means the tone of my documentary film but I thought it might prove interesting footage later on. My bag was worn and stuffed with mini DV tapes, cables and sound recording gear. This was my first solo documentary film adventure and an attempt to gain insight into the lives of the Vedda tribe in Sri Lanka. Thus far it was proving extremely successful and I planned on acquiring as much footage as possible, with or without invertebrate parasites.
Once the final bloodsucker had been disposed of, I was advised to remove my shoes and socks, or at least that is how I interpreted the Sinhalese syllables and abrupt pointing. One of the tribesmen rolled up my trouser legs to the knee and coated my skin in a sticky sweet sepia paste. It smelt of rich tobacco. I tied my shoelaces together and onto my bag as we made our way deeper into the jungle. The tribe spoke a dialect of Sinhalese, so in order to communicate my feelings, ideas and gratitude to the tribesmen, I required the use of two translators; one from the tribal dialect to Sinhalese, the second from Sinhalese to English. Both translators had decided to skip this particular escapade into the deep jungle as we needed to be few in number, we were looking for wild elephants and needed to be as quiet as possible.
- (to be continued)
