What's In A Name?

Photos: Cao Changdi versus 798: up-market modern art galleries and studios

amcommins — Fri, 5 Jul 2013 18:14:00 GMT

'Ab Fab' Modern Art: China-Style

amcommins — Fri, 5 Jul 2013 18:12:00 GMT

‘Chinese artists are now part of an international conversation’, Meg explains passionately, rather than just an exotic source of post-communist-inspired art. Meg Maggio is an American who has been in China for more than twenty years. She is also the Director of the Pekin Fine Arts Gallery in Cao Changdi Village, an area in north Beijing where Ai Weiwei has established an artist community, which is geographically and ideologically separate from the popular 798 Art District (see previous blog entry http://journals.worldnomads.com/amcommins/story/102914/China/Scorpions-and-post-apocalyptic-industrial-chic). WeiWei bought land in Cao Changdi and designed buildings that, from the outside, resemble bland, grey and unassuming two storey apartment blocks but, inside, reveal a series of cavernous white-washed and exposed-brick spaces: art galleries and artist studios. These buildings sit rather conspicuously in an obviously more deprived suburb of outer-Beijing.

Meg sits behind an oversized computer screen on a desk covered in books and leaflets for her forthcoming exhibition, ‘New Paper’. She is embedded and enmeshed in the Chinese art scene, which is broad and diverse. I swing my head round to look at paintings and sculptures that she identifies as pieces by Chinese artists who now live, work and find influence in Switzerland, Korea and the US. They are expensive specimens. Meg is unashamedly critical of the 798 Art District. ‘It is marketed as part of the Chinese leisure scene. They bus thousands of students and tourists there’, she explains in a still-strong American accent, whilst simultaneously giving instructions in Chinese to someone called Summer, who is sat behind a screen and who I assume is her assistant. What Meg tells me is true. Wandering the vast stark-white gallery rooms in Cao Changdi, the exhibitions are clearly professionally curated, expensive and exclusive. Men in their twenties smoke pipes! The most crowded gallery I visited had four people in it, one of whom was me. 3-D video art installations trail über-cool short movies in darkened rooms. Cao Changdi is unashamedly pushing modern Chinese art but its draw is limited by its market position. I guess that is exactly the point.

By contrast, the 798 Art District is an old East German industrial city of factory spaces, brick chimneys and workshops, which, when abandoned, grew into a warren of galleries. It is a very busy place. The land is state-owned and leased to the artists. In Cao Changdi, however, the galleries are built by private enterprise and on private land. Meg is proud of the independence of the area from any state influence. ‘This is not a tourist destination’. That much is evident. However, the reality is that modern, interesting, accessible and individual artistic expression is a relatively new concept in China and, like everything else in this country, it has – and is –developing at breakneck speed. The public need time to catch up, and the 798 District offers a mix of the more ‘traditional’ Chinese (and international) modern art blended with the comfort and familiarity of coffee shops, street vendors and design shops. For those with a taste for art at the edge of development; for visitors seeking a more ‘pure’ insight into the shape of cutting-edge Chinese expression – the sort that you will see in exclusive galleries throughout the world – Cao Changdi is definitely worth the taxi ride.

Photos: Parkilfe: Beijing style

amcommins — Fri, 5 Jul 2013 00:29:00 GMT

Parklife, electric storms and the Pied Piper

amcommins — Fri, 5 Jul 2013 00:22:00 GMT

In my ‘yoof’, parks were places for surreptitious smoking, kissing girls in secret (and finding out that your father – who had wondered why you were disappearing from home – had followed you), trying booze, being sick and fighting. Beijing’s major parks, which mark the points of the compass around the Forbidden City, contain few, if any, of these……..indiscretions. Instead, like a true Gemini, they have two faces. On the one sit brash tour guides shouting the odds through crackly speakers and herding their troops by making random screams and wearing umbrellas or flags on their heads. On the other, older Beijingers sit quietly in groups playing cards, enjoying a spot of communal exercise or flying expertly crafted bird-of-prey kites. The parks are scenes of utter contrast.

I got caught in an electric storm today in Taintan Park, south of the centre. I had spent a hugely uncomfortable half hour getting heckled and henpecked by the silk and pearl vendors in the local market, and retreated to the park to enjoy the sun and some solitude. Cue the tour guides, mainly Hamlin-piping flocks of Chinese tourists from one temple to another in a whirlwind of tick-box history and cultural experiences. The soup of people dispersed a little further into this beautiful park of twisted and ancient cypress and juniper trees, where I could savour a little peace.

The vast domed rectangle of green and foliage set amongst the hard streets is special, that’s for sure. Soft music is played though speakers designed to look like lanterns and, if you delve into the woods, you are rewarded with calm, nature and, most of all, space. The odd old man on a tricycle and sporting a straw hat slowly pedalling a load of tree cuttings down perfectly manicured alleys completes the photographer’s scene.

Beijingers live shoulder to shoulder all day; pushing onto subway trains, skipping queues, jostling for pavement-room and dodging stalls, smells, shit, each other, and occasionally their own reflection in mirrored shop-fronts and high-rises. So they love a good park. Who doesn’t? And they make the most of the green afforded to them. Tai Chi is the perfect parkside activity: it’s silent, slow, measured and methodical. And it can be done in groups. Collective exercise, whether dancing or martial arts, is popular and springs up on street corners and grassy areas like forgotten bulbs of last year. I joined in. Fun, if a little awkward. Not sure if I was meant to, but it gave everyone a giggle. Jacky Chan I am not, although I still class myself as a ‘Ninja’ after reaching 6^th Kyu in Ninjutsu just fifteen years ago. Different country, I guess……!

Anyway, the electric storm came, wild and swift like an unprovoked assault. I had a story of William Lindsay in my head (see previous blog entry): two walkers on the Great Wall, who, caught in similar circumstances, determined to hide in a fortress. Bad Mistake. The highest point on the wall afforded them no real protection but rather provided an acceptable point for the fork to hit. They were found together, rigid and expired, a few days later. For some reason I had migrated with the herd (as all good sheep should) to one of the temple buildings in the park. The storm was vicious; I dodged snapping and falling branches as I ran to shelter. Under tiles and brick, surrounded by iron gates and other massive super-conductors, I sensed my folly. I legged it. The other people must have thought I’d lost my mind. Soaked, but safer on lower ground, I thought I may have overreacted as the storm suddenly passed on. I think everyone survived this time!

What the storm left behind was a clear sky and empty paths, a beautiful and justly-rewarded treat for my ambitious sprint. Just goes to show that even without smoking, booze, vomit, stolen kisses and punch-ups, parklife can be an amazing way to see folk!

Foodie Frolicks

amcommins — Tue, 2 Jul 2013 16:04:00 GMT

Putting novelty deep-fried scorpions to one side......

.....especially for you, KFD – and the foodies among you - I just wanted to note some of the fragrant and delicious dishes I have sampled so far.

Yuannan cuisine may rate as my favourite. It originates from a region diverse with ethnic minorities, so it comes in many different forms and styles. Milky, creamy tofu - so soft that it breaks and melts when you try to catch it with your chopsticks – smothered in a tapenade of chilli, garlic and coriander, for example; or bundles of fresh mint wrapped in succulent little blankets of thinly sliced beef; how about scrambled egg with butter and studded with edible jasmine flower buds or fried potatoes cooked with crispy tea leaves….the list goes on. It’s fragrant, fresh, fast and tasty. Hungry yet?

Beijing also boasts a huge range of international cuisine, from Spanish to North Korean and everything in between. Malaysian restaurants serve browned chicken glazed in sticky honey and deep-fried tofu squares in blood-red chili sauce. For vegetarians, Beijing offers variety and novelty. Tofu features highly – the stinky or non-stinky variety – depending on your nasal vigour. Monkey-head mushrooms (or, on the menu, just ‘Monkey Head’, which I didn’t really believe) in plum sauce with pyramids of cous-cous and baby celery wrapped in crisp lettuce leaves; for dessert, egg-yolk dumplings and sweet spring rolls. Delicious!

Street food is also a constant temptation. Every alley bursts with holes in the wall offering smoky mutton kebabs, hot Chinese pancakes, fresh and bitter yoghurt with honey-sweet swirls topped with red beans and steamed stuffed buns filled with succulent pork.

Time for a raw salad, methinks……

Photos: The Wild Wall and the 80th Floor

amcommins — Tue, 2 Jul 2013 13:02:00 GMT

From the Wild Wall to the 80th Floor

amcommins — Tue, 2 Jul 2013 12:54:00 GMT

It’s 9.30am and I’m sat in a coffee shop in the Central Business District (CBD) of Beijing listening to probably the worst Chinese cover version I have ever heard of Whitney Houston’s ‘I Have Nothing’: don’t get me wrong, I’m a sucker for a power ballad, but I didn’t know a human was capable of so many key changes.

Today, it is sweltering outside. The CBD is this city’s Canary Wharf, a mad-cap traffic system where ultra-modern electric cars and rusty tuk-tuks carrying wilting vegetables meet and do their ‘death-dance’. The ground is spiked with gravity-defying buildings, glass and steel, towering and ostentatious – the typical way society screams, ‘just look at how rich and successful we are’.

It is a world away from the Wild Wall hike of yesterday, walking an untouched and overgrown section of the Great Wall of China a million miles from the tourist spots closer to Beijing. I was fortunate enough to team up with William Lindesay, (Officer of the British Empire, no less!), who, despite originating from the UK, is recognised as the leading voice on all things Wall[ish]: its archaeology, history, conservation and future (www.wildwall.com). His love affair with one of the world’s most iconic structures started in 1986 when, at a time China was really a closed shop to foreigners, he came here and ran the length of the Wall. Yes, ran it. On this epic undertaking, he was attacked by dogs, arrested nine times and given deportation orders. Twenty seven years on and he lives between Beijing and his village retreat on the Wall, is married to a Chinese lady, has been recognised as a true friend of China, exhibited wonderful photographic collections in the Capital Museum in Beijing and advised Government on the Wall’s protection and preservation.

At 3.15am, William was up and preparing strong coffee at his courtyard farmhouse, where I was staying: the old village school, home for a night to William and Dragon (his brother-in-law, who has the coolest name I have ever heard). By 4.00am we were scrambling our way through the sodden bush and carpets of spider webs towards the wall. The mist was thick and heavy; sweeping views of the Wall crossing the mountain tops were swapped for an intoxicating atmosphere of solitude and history on the Wall itself (see photo gallery).

William taught me one critical thing: to forget everything I thought I knew about The Great Wall of China! Firstly, the name itself hides a thousand inaccuracies. For example, ‘THE’ Wall is actually a series of smaller, independent structures incrementally built by sixteen of the (roughly) sixty-six Chinese dynasties. Furthermore, the word ‘WALL’ belies the variety of building techniques used, which range from basic straw-and-clay moulding and dry-stone-walling to the iconic yellow-brick, fortressed images seen in all the travel books. We hiked a section of the Wall constructed from huge quarried rock at the base, a pavement level, brick ramparts and towering fortresses built for signalling, shelter, storage and counter-seige. This section was overgrown, unkempt…..’wild’ and awe-inspiring.

To my amazement, I learnt that much of the Great Wall has suffered a terrible fate: from the graffiti and littering of tourists to the theft of stone and illegal (and legal) mining. Efforts have been continuously made to protect this exemplar of China, but the laws are haphazardly enforced and the lure of guaranteed-tourist-dollars too strong. The structure is an incredible testament to the fortitude of the families who built each section and to the capacity of humans to defend themselves. However, without concerted national and international efforts to preserve it, the Wall’s future is uncertain and can only be protected by striking a precarious and expensive balance between conservation, on the one hand, and allowing responsible tourism, on the other.

Back to the CBD, I've de-camped from the power-ballads to the 80th floor of the Trade Center Building to order an extortionately priced watermelon juice and to see Beijing in all it's glory - see other photos in the blog and enjoy!

Why I love 'Beijingers'

amcommins — Sat, 29 Jun 2013 20:31:00 GMT

So, I’ve been in Beijing for almost a week and I feel like I have walked a hundred miles around the city’s streets exploring this fascinating and intriguing place! I am off to the Great Wall for a few days of hiking tomorrow, so, before I leave and then return to Beijing town, here are some observations and reasons why I love ‘Beijingers’ and their approach to life(and some that are not so lovely!):

…..THEY.....

waltz together in the park,

walk the streets during the day in their silk and nylon pyjamas,

risk their lives crossing the road,

use the roads as pavements,

drive like no-one else exists (but manage somehow to cater for everyone else doing exactly the same),

older men – and some younger ones too - spit on the street as they walk,

they……

smoke incessantly,

spend time and eat together,

play and watch card- and Mahjong-games laid out on old newspaper in the street,

hold hands and walk by the lakes,

chatter, haggle and barter all day long,

trade,

reject rules and regulations in favour of an autonomous existence, whilst deferring to the obvious face of authority, if required;

they work hard,

push in queues,

live shoulder to shoulder,

stare (and accept you will stare back),

quarrel and sleep in public,

cycle everywhere,

defy smog so thick that sometimes you can’t see more than a hundred metres ahead,

shop with fervour,

consume,

demand,

produce,

create

and build……

It is quite a list and growing!

Photos: The Temples in the Hills

amcommins — Sat, 29 Jun 2013 01:35:00 GMT

The Red Dress and The Story of the Two Temples

amcommins — Sat, 29 Jun 2013 01:26:00 GMT

‘Hello, you want lady massage?’ she shouted……. (really, nothing could be further from the truth). Anyway, I copied a trick, and told the lady in the red dress that I was probably too expensive! That seemed to work and I walked on. Unfortunately, her first approach was made when I was wandering one of Beijing’s many vast shopping malls. An hour later and outside, after an electric storm that cleared the streets like a bomb had gone off, the red dress appeared again but, on recognising me, said only ‘Oh no, it’s ******* you again!' Nice. Anyway, it’s one way to deal with the occasional scams and approaches on Beijing’s centre’s streets. ‘Hello, which country are you from?’ or ’Hello, you want to come for tea / beer / coffee [insert drink of choice]’ are both guaranteed attempts to part you with significant amounts of cash. They are easily enough dealt with and, frankly, are harmless and swiftly rebuffed.

However, with a view to escaping to the country, and to review the Rough Guide entries for some ‘out of town’ day-trips, I headed for two famous and ancient Buddhist temples about 40 kilometres from Beijing, Tánzhè and Jiètái. I was lucky enough to meet a Chinese student en route, who not only enlightened me as to the local pollution levels (PhD in environmental engineering) but, as a Buddhist, gave me a fascinating insight into the spiritual importance of the two sites.

Tánzhè is the larger and busier of the two, nestled in the hillside and winding upwards as a maze of shrines and incense sellers. Jiètái, although smaller, was my favourite site, as it was practically deserted and contained ornate gardens with huge, ancient, hanging trees supported by rocks and girders. The temples have very few monks now, as far as I could see, although Tánzhè was a preferred pilgrimage destination of the Emperor, so the colours of red and yellow match those that dominate the Forbidden City. The temple complex also has a series of cool and damp caves that are now shrines or once provided shelter for the monks who used to reside here. Jiètái boasts huge pagoda-tombs and beautiful, colourful character statues of the various Deities. Both temples are a must-see and offer tranquillity and peace in the misty hills outside Beijing. And not a red dress in sight…..!

Photos: The delights of the Forbidden City

amcommins — Sat, 29 Jun 2013 00:46:00 GMT

The (not so) Forbidden City!

amcommins — Fri, 28 Jun 2013 20:23:00 GMT

It is no irony that the City that calls itself ‘Forbidden’ - and was once limited as the exclusive domain of the ruling emperor and his servants and eunuchs - now admits up to 80,000 visitors each day. However, it is the largest palace complex in the world, so even at capacity, the countless faces, tour guides and sun-umbrellas melt away as you walk under Mao’s infamous portrait and through Meridian Gate. The entrance to the Imperial Palace lies north of Tiananmen Square where, at sunrise and sunset each day, a troop of soldiers raise and lower the national flag to throngs of enthralled onlookers: even at 4.47am this morning- the exact time of the sun’s appearance - the crowds on the Square were at least fifty deep.

The Forbidden City is encased by a moat and, within the turreted walls, employs a wonderful symmetry and geomantic structure to achieve a balance between yin and yang; positive and negative energy. The City’s spine is composed of eleven south-facing halls or gates, which are colossal, exquisite, ornate and awe-inspiring. Branching off from this central vertebrae are more than eight hundred buildings that share the exclusive combination of Imperial colours: red walls and yellow roof tiles. Elsewhere, jade green, gold and azure blue decorate the woodwork, archways and balconies. The doors to the halls are heavy, red, thick and studded with gold. The intricacy of the design is astounding. Each row of roof tiles on every building in the City ends with a delicate carving. The Hall of Supreme Harmony – the most important building in the City – models a row of beautifully carved animals on all four corners of its roof, each animal representing an auspicious character in Chinese mythology. These animals appear throughout the complex, but no building other than the Hall of Supreme Harmony boasts the full set of eleven, necessary to protect the emperors and bring good luck and prosperity to the country.

Despite its size, a wander around the Forbidden City’s streets and alleys feels intimate and personal. Away from the central squares, the buildings to the east and west are smaller but bursting with Chinese history: galleries and exhibitions of paintings, sculpture, ceramics, gold and silver jewellery, clothing, bronze artefacts, calligraphy, weapons and clocks offer any visitor a vibrant and informative insight into life in the palace and outside from 6000BC to the 20^th Century. There are a number of interesting and consistent architectural themes to follow as you progress deeper into the belly of the Imperial Palace. Sundials feature in many squares as symbols of the Emperor’s authority over time-keeping. Huge bronze cauldrons – once used to store water in case of fire – punctuate the open spaces. Statutes and carvings of dragons (the symbol of the Emperor), cranes (symbolic of longevity) and lions (associated with mystical protective properties) are abundant. The complex of buildings and rooms are crowned by the trees, rocks and water-features of the Imperial Gardens.

The Forbidden City is a pilgrimage for Chinese and international tourists alike. It is an incredible structure and its size cannot be underestimated! It took a good fifteen minutes at an average constant pace to walk just one length of the moat running north to south of the City. Save your legs, though, as Jingshan Park lies just outside the North Gates. This green park is situated on a hill constructed from the earth from the dug-out moat. It has its own critical history, as it was the spot where the last Ming Emperor hanged himself from a tree after rebel forces invaded the Imperial Palace in 1644. The view from the top of the park extends for miles from the glistening yellow roof tiles of the Forbidden City to the new-age glass structures of China’s financial centre: a unique perspective of the ancient and hyper-modern.

Scorpions and post-apocalyptic-industrial-chic!

amcommins — Wed, 26 Jun 2013 12:15:00 GMT

I am surprised that I managed to wolf down a breakfast this morning of spicy Chinese pancakes, vegetables and deep-fried black pepper pork: yesterday, I enjoyed a selection of foods that would have given any self-respecting dietician a cardiac arrest! It was protein-rich, at least; deep-fried chilli scorpions, silkworm larvae, salted snake and shredded donkey meat. I had resigned myself to my fate after taking this strict ‘Dr. Atkins’ approach to food, but I live to tell the tale!

After sampling the delights of the bustling street-food markets, I spent the most fantastic evening sat on the misty banks of the moat surrounding the imposing walls of the Forbidden City. It is an extraordinarily quiet spot in a city of countless millions, where bats and mosquitos are the only tourists. Boys fishing beamed torchlights onto the water in the hope of sighting their quarry but, in more than three hours, I never witnessed a catch. We talked and drank cheap rum (although I’m not convinced it was a sugarcane-distilled spirit) well into the morning.

Away from the food, I could easily give you 798 reasons to visit the art district of Beijing that shares this number in its title. North of the city towards the airport lies a grid reference of abandoned industrial buildings that offer homes to countless urban, edgy and chic art galleries and cafes. At its centre sits ‘Power Square’, which would provide the ideal setting for any post-apocalyptic movie of your choosing: towering brickwork chimneys, rust-orange water reflecting giant abandoned metal cranes and colossal mechanical structures, walkways, boilers and platforms. The art is as much in the setting as inside the galleries themselves.

The movie-set feeling is not dampened by the occasional sight of skimpily-clad models being photographed and pursued by groups of men, mirrors and flashlights! There has been some commercialisation of this über-cool district, but, at its core remains a vibrant and eclectic collection of national and international art, sculpture and photography. One highlight for me was the gallery of socialist-realist North Korean art where I managed to pick up a copy of the DPRK's english-language newsletter. The galleries themselves are various disused factory buildings that provide the perfect size, acoustics and lighting to house giant pieces and extensive collections as well as more private and intimate exhibitions and video-displays. For more on this exciting area, see http://www.798art.org/ and also check out my photos attached to this journal to see more of Power Square and the streets of 798!

Photos: Beijing 798 Art District

amcommins — Tue, 25 Jun 2013 20:30:00 GMT

Duck and Cover

amcommins — Tue, 25 Jun 2013 12:36:00 GMT

I love capital cities- they are the principal organs of a country- inputting, digesting and circulating life outwards through countless capillaries of roads, tracks, pipes, cables, lines and rivers. After the monotony of the flight from Heathrow, life in Beijing city fizzes and explodes like caesium on contact with water. It refuses to gently rouse you from your travel slumber and, instead, adopts the military-style-turn-him-out-with-the-mattress approach: decisive, a tad undignified, shocking but highly effective. I hit the floor hard this morning after my unceremonious dumping at Beijing Central Airport and, after thawing slightly in the humidity outside, I sought a taxi and found my way to the hotel.

Late afternoon, I met Martin – my Rough Guides mentor and walking Bible on all things Beijing. After a late lunch of pork, prawn and horse meat dumplings, we headed out to Dashilar, the local backpackers' area. The brief was to update information on some of the main hostels and to locate a restaurant to recommend. Brief fulfilled, as in the evening we feasted together on beer and delicious Peking Duck with all the trimmings (plates of crispy fat, meat and meat with crispy fat)! The meal also blessed us by providing shelter from a sudden downpour that cleared the low-lying smog and brought a welcome freshness to the streets outside. Off the hostel main drag, the web of streets opened into surprisingly quiet Hutongs (narrow alleys) where we dodged children playing, open charcoal stoves and hundreds of silent electric bikes.

Through jet-lagged eyes and in complete wonder at finally walking the streets of Beijing, today I only managed to glimpse and squint at the marvels of Tiananmen Square, the gates to the Forbidden City and Mao’s mausoleum. These monoliths of the Beijing pilgrim trail (for international and Chinese travellers alike) await me over the next few weeks with everything else Beijing has to offer, after sleep, a body-clock-reset and perhaps just one more Yanjing beer……

It's only blogging Beijing......!

amcommins — Sun, 23 Jun 2013 06:22:00 GMT

Mark Ellingham graduated from Bristol University before he headed to Europe and, on his return, invented and drafted the first 'Rough Guide'. Twenty three years on, and I’m lucky enough to benefit from that legacy through this fantastic travel scholarship.

Bristol to Beijing is five thousand, one hundred and forty two miles………if you’re a crow......

So, like international cargo, I am sat in the holding bay in Bristol; vaccinated, insured, packed, documented and awaiting shipping. All I need is a barcode and, in less than thirty six hours, I will be delivered direct, non-stop and in air-conditioned transit to the People’s Republic of China.

I am muffling little explosions of excitement and anticipation ahead of my trip.

I will, of course, blog during my visit and I’d be delighted if you would follow some or all of the posts. I will do my best to convey the wonders of Beijing and the Great Wall in my short time there. I hope you enjoy!

Sharing Stories - A Glimpse into Another's Life

amcommins — Sat, 16 Mar 2013 01:28:46 GMT

‘Jonathan’ is not the name of a fearless warrior. Jonathan, surely, works in accounts in an air-conditioned office, takes vitamin supplements and makes regular contributions to his pension fund. He secretly resents his work and dreams of any challenge to his personal monotony and the linear direction of his life, yet remains dutifully consistent and reliable.

Jonathan, however, is the name of this warrior. It shocks me: not the thick, pale scar that cuts like a mountain range from his left shoulder across his chest and down to his stomach; but his name. He leaps in the dust, rooted to the spot on which he lands and from where he takes flight. I can’t take my eyes off him. He is a vision of ochre and agility.

Suddenly, the guttural vibrations of song stop, the earth settles and Jonathan gently adjusts his red shuka to cover his wound as he steps forward out of the line of men. An Elder shuffles towards him and, as Jonathan bows his head, he is crowned with the lion’s mane. The beast that engraved his body now frames this warrior’s face. As he slowly raises his head, Jonathan’s eyes are closed as beads of fat and orange sweat trickle down his cheek.

Kenya mercilessly bakes herself in December. At this moment - in this sundial sun - I am the office-Jonathan. He is the warrior-Jonathan; the Morani. He gently takes my hand and holds it tenderly, standing next to me, tall, extended with pride and perfectly postured. I dare not look at him but I wonder how his heart must have burst with fear when he confronted the animal’s eyes. His thickened braids flick on my shoulder. His scent is earthen, metallic and roasted.

The hypnotic rhythm of song restarts, he softly loosens his grasp on my hand and he is offered his spear and rungu. He demonstrates his combat skills and I quietly contemplate the linear direction of his life, directed solely towards this moment of absolute achievement.

‘Jonathan’ has its meaning as ‘Given from God’ and here, today, in this parched grassland office, he is adored as a gift to these Maasai boys and men. To me, he is the warrior I long to be.