Live To Win

The Djemaa el-Fna square bustles and throbs. Its lights glimmer in the smoke of cooking fires that rises and twines its way through the thronging crowds of hustlers, beggars, locals and tourists. But at it’s heart, on the eastern edge and in full view of the stalls and restaurants there is a hole. Bandaged in sagging earthen cloth over a makeshift wooden construction frame, the Argana Cafe is a stark emblem of violence, like a wound on this colourful square. Less than a year ago an explosion ripped through its guts, wounding 20 people, and killing 15. What colour they were, their social standing or occupations was swept aside by a blast that scattered bodies, and drained the square of its touristic life blood for months afterwards. They’ve come back of course; they always will explains my friend Hakim. But it’s a frightening reminder of the darkness here or anywhere that there is a cultural clash between worlds and attitudes. Do locals turn their heads away and tr

At the front of Ernesto’s tattoo design folio there is a A4 sized graphic of an indigenous elder in ceremonial dress, with added text which reads “Preserve Iban culture – Get Tattooed!” This cheerful and yet devoted attitude typifies Ernesto’s approach to his art form. During our conversation he explains that when he came to tattooing some 15-20 years earlier, the traditional customs and designs of Borneo’s tattooed tribes people were all but gone. Had he been even a few years later in beginning his research, via travelling to longhouses and collecting stories from tattooed elders about the meaning and techniques involved in creating Borneo’s instantly recognisable strong black imagery, it may have been too late.