He came from a little-known Uyghur *Autonomy( 自治; 自治团体; 自治权; 有自主权的国家) region of China to paint – but Akbar Mijit died soon after ariving in Britain. Dan Carrier uncovers a tragic love story behind the death of a young artist .
IT wasn’t love at first sight, but within weeks the English teacher from Chalk Farm and the artist from the ancient city of Kashgar in the north-western Chinese province of Uighur Autonomy were spending more and more time together.
Working in the same school, Sally McCrae and Akbar Mijit realised they had much in common, despite coming from vastly different cultures. Sally, 42, had been sent to China on a Voluntary Service Overseas (VSO) scheme to help English teachers. She knew little about the place she had been posted to. She didn’t speak Chinese – nor did she know about the Uyghur Languege in the Ostturkestan (western provinces of the People’s Republic) where she was working.But Sally, who had quit her job selling haberdashery from a stall at Hampstead Community Centre, was immediately captivated by the feel of the Uighar Country. And Akbar Mijit, a popular artist from the region, became her guide.But as Akbar’s first ever British exhibition opens this week – called ‘From Kashgar to Camden’ – the sad tale of his brief life can be told.Uighar is geographically diverse.
The name Kashgar means ‘a place as beautiful as jade’ and is a jewel for the People’s Republic of China, because of its abundance of natural resources and strategic position on the western borders.The Tien Shan mountains encircle the Taklamakan desert – the name means ‘those who go in never come out’. A testimony, guidebooks say, not to hidden dangers but because of the oasis fed by mountain waters that captivates travellers.
As she explored, she felt herself falling for her new friend and the country he was showing her. She explains: “Akbar was sent to me to help do some administration regarding my stay. He lived in the same work unit as me – a community like an Israeli kibbutz.
We kept meeting on the campus and he was interesting.”He took her sightseeing. Wandering along the banks of the Tuman river where 100,000 people gather each Sunday to trade at a bazaar, she was awestruck by the women dressed in rainbow coloured silks and men wearing embroidered ‘doppa’ hats. Among the traders she found one-man workshops where craftsmen used metal, fabrics, leather and stone. She could see why her new artist friend was so inspired by his home.
Akbar was known in his community as a singer and storyteller as well as a painter, keeping the area’s ancient traditions alive and she saw his surroundings in his work.She explains: “Nothing prepared me for the stimulation of all my sense: the sights, the smells, everything was totally different to what I was used to.”She had settled, and the couple realised they had met their soul mates. They decided to marry.There were cultural differences but both families were thrilled. Sally’s brother John and sister Fiona trusted her and they respected the whirlwind romance.
His family felt the same. As Sally put it: “I never expected to go to China and get married but it felt right.”However, there were worries about the attitude of the Chinese authorities. Sally adds: “In China if some one is said to be influencing others it can be a crime. I had to be careful to make sure people where not perceived to be influencing me over my relationship or my views towards China and politics here."
The Uighars make up 47 per cent of the region’s population but their language is suppressed. Made to learn both Chinese and English at the expense of their own Arabic tongue, there has long been a separatist movement and Akbar’s well-known promotion of a suppressed culture could have made their relationship tricky.“For me, what was so wonderful was the sense of dignity of these people,” explains Sally. “They have very little but have huge self-respect, despite their situation.” But the love story was destined to come to a tragic end.The pair came to London in 1998.
Akbar wanted to explore the west and with Sally’s VSO placement finishing they set up home in Crogsland Road, Chalk Farm, where Akbar continued to paint.But one day in September 2001 he complained he did not feel well: a trip to the doctors discovered he was suffering from a cancerous tumour in his stomach. It spread to the base of his spine but physicians at the Middlesex Hospital were hopeful. It was virulent but they decided intensive chemotherapy would work and the couple spent six months going through the treatment. The doctors thought they had it beaten and gave Akbar a three-week high dosage of chemotherapy to finish off the disease. But his body could not cope and he died.Four years later she still feels the pain of losing a husband she had little time with. Akbar’s legacy – a collection of pictures inspired by his home in Uighar and his brief time in London – is now being shown for the first time.And with it she not only hopes to show her late husband’s work, but bring attention to one of the forgotten Land of Uyghur.
She says: “He had a passionate commitment to his homeland.”It is also a form of grieving for Sally. She had to return his body to his home town and was greeted by hundreds of people who had turned out to see her and offer condolences. Sally said: “It felt like Princess Diana’s funeral,” she said. “I realised how important he was to their culture when I bought him home.”• The Kashgar to Camden exhibition opens at The Sweet Tea House Gallery, 264 Globe Road, E2, today (Thursday) and closes on Sunday, May 22. Entrance free. _______________________________________
*Eskertish:Autonomy____Gérmanchida "Autonomy" dégen sözge Selbständigkeit,(öz teqdirini özi belgülesh) yaki Unabhängigkeit,(musteqil , hör dölet) dep izahat bérilgen.Emma emeliyette xitay bu alahidilikni, nami uluq, supirisi quruq qilip qoyghan.
Edited by Korash Atahan
http://www.camdennewjournal.co.uk/120505/f120505_01.htm http://www.sweetteahouse.co.uk/en/index.php?section=37
