He Called Himself Avroco (2020)
- seihon tan
- Nov 30, 2024
- 6 min read
Updated: Jan 27
Turning Circle In The Sand
Late at Night
I want to sleep but I cannot
Lying on the floor
I wonder about this place and me
Through the window a strange bird is singing for the lonely moon.
My story tells me that yesterday is just a dream
an illusion...
and it went wrong.
Turning the circle to the same way back again,
It is fading into the dark
Crying out loud
“Does this place care for me?”
Only turns, looking back at time
I cannot see anything different about myself
looking on the outside
never knowing how to quit
just keeping on the belief
that the outside is still shining.
by AVROCO
What is in a name, its sound, the words used to construct it and the meanings behind those specific sounding words?
Is our name a cultural construct or an innate part of us even before we were born? Are we destined to be called and identified by certain titles that highlights our ethnicity, our tribe or clan, the locality of our origin and what not? Are we even aware that the names given to us were based on certain cultural, political and religious outlooks? Were our names imposed upon us by our parents and guardians who in turn by their parents and so on? Does social status play a role in the choice of names chosen for us? Are we the embodiment of ideas and ideals with which our parents express themselves and hopes to live through?
Whatever it is, your name is not your own. It was chosen for you.
Even so, the system only recognizes us by our numbers, specifically printed on our identification cards, which also lists our home address (and for some their inherited or professed religious beliefs). We are but a statistic, a digital file with personal information stored in the system, instantaneously retrievable and deletable, conveniently at the click of a button. Call yourselves what you wish, the system only recognizes us by those numbers which it then matches to our thumb prints for verification.
In the case of Avroco, whose given name is Mohd Nasir, which means ‘Praiseworthy helper who gives victory’ in Arabic, the word ‘Avroco’ doesn’t mean anything other than that it rhymes with the words ‘Rococo, Mopiko, Mexico, Coco, mee soto, etc. Furthermore, in the ever rapacious and judgemental eyes of conventional society, an unconventional individual like Avroco is most certainly not praiseworthy and whose choice of living (and calling in life) will most definitely NOT lead us to ‘victory’ but to total ruin!
Since the 1980s, with creeping stultification of thoughts, actions and expressions through the imposed conformity from top down made with the approval and complicity of the more conservative elements in society, our country has grown increasingly intolerant at any perceived deviancy from the approved sets of social guidelines on propriety and other forced modes of behaving and living. From the way we talk, walk, dress, to what we consume and use on our bodies to how we are to interact with one another, our lives have been heavily prescribed, our sexes insidiously segregated and our actions keenly monitored. Scripted praises are sung or bellow over plain speaking truths. Actions are calculated and intentions slyly camouflaged in meek observance of the delicate sensibilities of those in positions of power, be they religious or cultural ‘leaders’, civil servants or politicians and a host of other parasites who infest the system where they live, feed and lord over the rest of us. Since this is the reality of the world we live in, we were then trained to adopt ‘survival’ strategies from young, with an assortment of persona at our disposal to assume in our daily transactions with society while masking our real thoughts and actual intentions. Imagine, to be mire deep in hypocrisy and make believe since childhood; is it any wonder why we ‘fake and fawn, play games till dawn’* Behind our elaborate pretence are nothing but carefully constructed alibis and rehearsed responses to hide a putrid melange of restless drives, inferior/superior complexes and insatiable animal appetites that remain unquenched due to the unnatural environment in which we were born and bred.
It must be pointed out that Avroco was not that special someone who had conquered his most base nor did he managed to free himself from the obligations of daily life. However, at least he knew and acted truthfully to who he was. In the face of relentless oppositions, marginalization, vilification, even poverty and not to mention loneliness, Avroco happily chose the harder path of a ‘professional’ musafir with eyes wide open than to be like the rest of us hard working zombies and salaried sleepwalkers still mindlessly chasing after that imaginary good life peddled in the media and all that shiny, colourful expensive brochures and prospectus while struggling daily to meet the bottom line in an expanding concrete jungle that is increasingly beyond our means to inhabit. When Avroco decided to drop out of the rat race early on, he had effectively dropped all the indoctrination, the pretence and training that he received in preparation for his life as a ‘rodent’ constantly on survival mode. He became a naked, hairless bipedal who shivered at the sudden clearer view of his surroundings now that he is standing on his feet instead of crawling on all four.
What he saw, he wrote, he painted and he sang. He became a poet, an outsider artist, an underground singer songwriter and more. He became… AVROCO. (In his thick northern accent, it sounded like aBROko to everyone!)
Avroco was also an unsung grassroots activist who in his own way was more ‘realer’ than all those attention-seeking careerist ‘activists’, with their loud sentiment-riling monologues, skewed observations, tired slogans and petty transgression calculated to gain publicity or sympathy. With their colourful hairs, scarves, bandanna, berets and funny costumes (some complete with cheap badges and fake medals!) they shamelessly jostle against each other to get their dolled-up mugshots for the print and electronic media.
Avroco was a time traveller whose time had come too soon and a dreamer who was to wake up in another world, one perhaps much suited his jiwa than this. A month before his death, Avroco excitedly told his close friend and fellow journeyman Rahmat Haron that he dreamt of his own demise in which he was transported to a heavenly place where he met old friends who had passed on. He later found himself by a shallow river of flowing red wine which he then leisurely scoop up with his bare hands and drank to his heart’s content.
Though it has been more than six years since his passing, Avroco (1974-2011) has left us a sizeable number of his drawings, paintings, writings and some unforgettable memories of which his friends and supporters readily celebrates and cherish. For too long we have been focusing on the works of those who, on their high horses ply their pony tricks in a circle jerk made up of pharisees and philistines without taking into consideration that most of them make their living from pandering to the palate and outlook of the privileged and protected classes whose existence are predicated on the subtle manipulation and blatant exploitation of the underclasses. While ‘they’ produce works that echo and elevate the worldviews of their paymasters, ‘outsider’ artists like Avroco make works out of an inner necessity, as a genuine life affirming response against the inherent death drive in both the productivist credo and conformist ethos propagated relentlessly by the establishment to suppress the instinctual drives that makes us human with the insidious aim to turn us into compliant instruments of labor, useful pawns of politicians and mental hostages to dogmas or ideologies. Considering the socio-political circumstances today, outsider art offers interesting insights into the human condition and our quest to discover some sort of meaning and pleasure to human existence outside of the confines maintained by various nefarious forces. Outsider artists through their life and art, shows us that an alternate (but admittedly difficult) mode of existence is possible, where one does not have to put oneself at the mercy of paymasters, creditors, theocrats and the politikus.
Though he was materially impoverished and struggling with the basic necessities of life, Avroco had the wisdom to be contented with himself and to live life on his own terms. Compared to him, we are cowards on all fours hiding confidently behind empty titles, branded embellishments, trained gestures and poses spouting cliche soundbites. When away from our mobile phones and selfie sticks, we continue to operate mechanistically in survival mode on a daily basis, rabidly chasing after the almighty (but gradually devaluing) Ringgit and racing wildly against each other in a mind boggling maze repleted with blinding neon lights, billboards and advert entice-ments, goading on our unending quest of accumulation and consumption while we build moats, trenches and walls around us to secure our ‘belongings’ and other growing pile of ‘things’.
The more we have, the lesser we become. I think the reason why we are still on all fours is because of the shitload of possessions we keep piling on our backs!
As I begin the fourth decade of my existence, I too wish to have the wisdom to be contented with myself and to have the courage to live life on my own terms. I too wished to stand upright on two instead of down on all four.
It’s less hard on the hands and knees. And the view is definitely nicer!
What is in a name, its sound, the words used to construct it and the meanings behind those specific sounding words?
Anyway, he called himself Avroco.