Photo. The late Cameron Casliner, c.1986
So here I find myself having travelled around the world, dodging the swing of a blunt machete, avoiding the flesh tearing explosions of incoming mortar fire and the random scatter of bullets thrown my way sitting idle watching two elite craftsmen weave baskets.
No ordinary baskets mind you, these are made from silk and titanium, elaborately woven in such a way that if one should drift far back in time when such an ancient craft was more relevant, then even the Ancients would sit and watch with a great deal of awe.
Before me is An ebony skinned man, his face scarred from tribal intiations of his youth sits shirtless next to a taller pale skinned Australian man some three decades his junior. The older Ethiopian man looks over at his younger accomplice with a certain degree of pride, though with a noticeably watchful eye. Occasional the two speak all the while their hands busily weaving and forming what is soon very clearly a basket. Not a simple or generic basket, but one of elaborate and sophisticated structure and decorations.
Malik, the dark skinned man smiles broadly at me as I take some photos he poses with a natural virtue that few seem to achieve while conducting such a sophisticated act. He gestures to the Australian, the former three time world champion at this crafts elite games, Kym Robinson. As Malik nods and tries to get me to look in Kym directions he says in broken English, "He tries to be fast watch mistake."
Kym smiles indiferently as he attempts to match the old masters pace. Though a World Champion, it is clear that he has a great deal of respect for the old basketmaker.
Rewind some sixteen years ago, while on a diplomatic envoy to Ethiopia with his Uncle as a child Kym was left to his own devices in a famine stricken nation. Malik then a soldier and elite protection agent for the Ethiopian Military was charged with minding the young boy. It was then that the relationship began, and the young Australian boy learned his craft.
While suffering from bed wetting and night terrors Kym was often up in the early hours of the morning,it was then that Malik decided to weave for him as a means of distracting the boy from the torment outside. It seemed that young Kym was a natural at this craft and in no time the young Australian boy was going from simple baskets to more decorative weaves.
Upon returning to Australia, he maintained the craft his parents seeking out local experts in the field only to find more commercial or craft shop minded practioners. In a stark collision of the fates however in 1988, Malik immigrated to Australia with his wife Loinosa. He was soon to seek out Kym's uncle and then in no time he located the boy who was still practicing the craft that he had learned years earlier from the gentle teacher.
As Kym matured and entered his teens he began to hunger for a more aggressive and competitive style of Basketry. It was here that he found him self travelling to Central Asia where he learned from the Mongolian Horse Weavers and the Tartar weavers of the great Steppes. These methods and styles combined with the fundamentals and patience instilled into him early on from Malik gave Kym a fast and unique style. So unique and fast in fact that he was invited to attend the World Games of 1996, where he placed twelth out of six hundred, and at the age of sixteen.
"You know even to this day, after all that I have experienced with the craft, I still find it hard to appreciate the techniques and patience used by those like Malik and the other masters. I am more of a hybrid or a twenty first century weaver, in some ways I lack any soul or style, these guys do something that one can appreciate and admire. I doubt I'll ever be at that level." Kym says with some modesty seldom found in such a youthful protege in any elite field. He places his basket next to Malik, having just beaten the old master by some minutes. Malik soon stands comparing their baskets, he does this with a great deal of attention. His eyes busily darting across the three rod wale that Kym had used on his basket, trying to fault the delicate strands as they wrap against and over one another. He turns to Kym, looking up at the taller man and embraces him with a big smile.
"Pride is knowing your pupil bests you." Malik says later that night as we drink Dark Barn Yulp from a clay mug, a traditional weavers ale with too many rumoured ingredients to even think about let alone list. Kym watches the flames as Malik explains the Ethiopian histories of the Basket, Kym listens no doubt as interested as he was the first time and subsequent times that he had heard this story.
After having retired from the night I lay in my bed and reflect on the many times that I have covered this craft from the war torn streets of Beirut in 1985, to the 1999 world games in Afghanistan, the 2000 Basket Meet held in Argentina and now here in a flat dry lake bed near Debre Birhan, Ethiopia. And in each of those prior occasions either one of these men had been spoken of with such high respect by the other weavers. Yet both had such a sincere and modest way about their craft, never once proclaiming such excellence in this field or declaring their achievements upon a conversation on the craft.
So now at the end of Kym's competitive career in Basketry I ask him what is next that following morning, he looks across the dry plains and answers with a simple, "Ill make some more baskets." And that is all one can really do, long after the fanfare and lime light has faded, the cheering crowds, the world prominence all has disappeared is to go on doing what you do, despite the glory.
So I leave Ethiopia with Kym flying back to Australia, the converstaion drifts slowly back to Malik and the craft after some hours in the air.
"Your twenty one, is that not to young to retire?" I ask.
"It is. But Malik has children. It is there time. I owe him that much." Kym answers as he stares into the cloudscape from his window. His face dead pan, but behind his eyes no doubt was thoughts of competitive basketry. The roar of the fans, the feel of his fingers after the fast paced weaves, the smell of cane and the taste of binding leather all memories ever present to the super star of the craft.
Upon parting ways with Kym at the airport, his ex wife waiting to pick him up, hands me a large basket that Kym had weaved for me prior to our journey. She hugs him as I hold the large metre and a half long basket. Though divorced the pair seem friendly, as she helps him with his luggage. I shake Kym's hand for the last time and thank him for the experiences. It then occurs to me that I am holding the hand that has weaved Golden baskets. I smile inwardly at that thought.
"Take care and as the great Yogi of the Basket world says "Happy days spent with friends who won't leave, Especially when there are baskets to weave! "
And then he was off. And so was I. With a new basket in hand.
Sometimes it is the stories of peace that touch us more than the tragic stories of sorrow and horror. What assignment I have tommorow I shall not know, where ever I find myself I go home knowing I have slowly began to weave the good with the bad and together we have this World and in the end what shall come will be left to the great basket maker.
Cameron Casliner, 2001.
Kym Robinson after winning the 2000 World Games held in Germany.
# This was the last article written by Cameron Casliner. He was killed 3 weeks later in Central America.
