Mr. Sugar Cane wakes up one morning and is suddenly hacked down before he can even brush his teeth. 
He’s transported to a barbaric contraption at the far end of the field which crushes him to death and squeezes all of the juice out from his body.
Just as things can’t get any worse, his juice squirts out through an underground tube into a big coldren which then ‘boils him right up’, fuelled by the heat from his burning body below. 
A few hours later, he’s rolled up into balls and chucked into a sack with 60kg worth of his old compadres. They’re later shipped off to market and sold for the princely sum of $10.


This is the story of how Sugar Cane became JAGERY.

Georgetown, the Malay Island of Penang’s only city.
Twenty minutes after arriving I was already been driven around by a helpful local trying to help me track down some kind of vessel bound for Sri Lanka (mmyeah, never happened).
It’s colourful, multicultural and full to the smiley back teeth of colonial influences, my favourite part by far being the old merchant streets - still fully operational with generations old businesses specialising in all sort of jazz - YEAH do one globalisation take your dirty fingers off this awesome little island.
I was there for ‘JAPAN DAY’ a thank you for all the help received after the tsunami.

I arrived to Dawei on yet another night bus and took a 4am 40minute ride on the back of a motorbike - under the moonlit sky, longyi flapping in the cold morning air and backpack weighing heavy - towards Maung Ma Kan, a beach town on the southern coast.
My first day was spent on Nabule - reachable my motorbike, km after km of wild tropical sands. After hours of solitude I went to investigate a faint silhouette in the distance and found it to be an old crooked local mining for shellfish. He showed me his technique and I managed to add about half a kilo to his little green bag before heading back to my spot for some more nudist indulgence. The next day i walked south down Maung Ma Kan beach and at then end found this little fishing village. There was a minefield of shit to get there - fish heads plastic bags and some god awful smells but when i finally reached the village it was wonderful to see the whole community working together to turn the cogs of the local trade - everybody had a task whether it be carrying bags, chipping ice or chopping heads.
I sat and had a beer, bobbed my head to the keyboard mayhem that was booming out into the fishy air and let a mentally challenged boy prepare me some beetle nut whilst getting pretty pissed off at all the fishy flies in my face - they really were only attacking me.
I slipped into two fish heads and ice-skated back up towards coconut guesthouse, singing all the way :)