The Mongolian
*** The following post has some vulgar words in it. Also, I write about a scene in the movie Antichrist where two people have some vivid sex. At the end I get a bit graphic in describing the… balls mainly. If that may bother you please don’t read on. But do donate to my resource center!
He showed up one night at a cafe in Naryn. He was a big guy with long hair and a variation of a beard that I guess you could call a goatee. I sat there eating my dinner and before long he was telling us about his job as a Mongolian historian. He had been on the road for four years, writing a blog for Mongolians to read. This apparently is a long-standing Mongolian tradition- recording history for future generations to learn from. Clearly, a sweet gig. But how is he paying for it? Some friends back at home were paying his way. He had been to the US, Africa, the Middle East, and Europe and now we sat in a circle, eating and drinking with him in Central Asia.
On the way home we stopped at a store and bought a half-liter of Vodka. We grabbed a few plastic cups and some Fanta and planted ourselves down in a side room that can only be described as cramped and dirty and perfect for suggestions of vodka shots. As we sat there the Mongolian, Amai was his name, toasted us by saying that he had met many Americans that he liked very much and that we were actually very nice people. This is a common theme among people who aren’t American but find themselves in need of their hospitality in are worried about offending- “you aren’t as bad as we all say”.
Up in the apartment Amai told us he had a surprise. We were made to close our eyes and soon he was throat singing. Throat singing is that loud, deep groaning in two notes that form a chord. You hear in any movie that has ever been made about Mongolia or Tibet. It was awesome, of course. So awesome that some of us laughed from the sheer ridiculousness of the scene and Amai stopped. Then somebody got too drunk and way, way too naked. Then another person- a theme at PC parties these days. I guess we are bored- and that effectively ended the night.
The next day the Amai, a social butterfly, began to tell us how ignorant we were in tones of compassionate pity. “Listen, I know way more about the world than you and you should take everything I say as though it’s sacred”. On topics of religion, politics, art, music and geography we were all wrong. Then he began to tell us about how we, Americans, didn’t know much about American culture. How could we, being from there?
Now I’ll be the first to shit on America if it needs a dumping. But don’t tell me you know more about American culture than I do. Don’t tell me that American music has no soul. We invented blues, jazz and rock and roll. Don’t tell me that we don’t cherish our women. Don’t tell me we don’t believe in the right God. Ironically, all those criticisms sound like something an American would say about another culture. Anyway…
This is a global trend- that Americans are fat, lazy, stupid and cultureless and because of the past 8 years of stupidity around the globe we are all forced to tuck our tails between our legs and beg for forgiveness. I’m getting bored.
Of course, most of the volunteers were so entranced by Amai’s existence and his implicit claim that he was some sort of mystic that he could say or do no wrong. Another trait of Americans abroad- worshipping people who aren’t American. Now I’m all for valuing diversity. In fact, its what I live for usually. But I refuse to be impressed just because you were born in a unique place or know a lot about Genghis Khan or cook really good food. Say something interesting or shut the fuck up. Get over your own myth.
The next day, smoking a hookah with Amai, he put on the movie Anti-Christ. In the first scene there is a pornographic, close-up of legendary proportions. This jarred me a bit and I chuckled. Mostly, a nod to any director who has the balls to show balls in glistening, high def. But also because it was a bold move on Amai’s part. ‘’Want to watch a movie, people I just met? Well check this nut sack out!’’ Amai immediately shut off the movie, telling us he hadn’t liked our reactions. Apparently, Genghis Khan had sat through his share of exceedingly unnecessary scenes of scrotums and labia without even a chuckle. I stood to learn a lot from the guy.
Here it is, Amai the Mongolian. If laughing at private parts practically overflowing out of the screen makes me American, then I am 120% American. I laugh at penises and vaginas in close-up, filmed in slow motion, artistically grinding (maybe I should say dancing) against each other in stunning black-and-white, dripping with water and set to an epic piece of opera music. I laugh at it because it’s funny. I laugh at it because anyone- from Mongolia to Mexico- who doesn’t react to that shot, at least at first, in some way, is an asshole.
