[UA] Bizarre Ambition

[David Tormsen]

Having just moved to Korea I've kept my eyes open for UAish things
(pity I left my book behind). When I came across this it was too good
not to note. I don't even think any mystic elements are needed, it
could be used as is.

http://www.lifeinkorea.org/m_page/read.php3?readnum=176&sec=H

--

They say that the monotony of life in the 'burbs will drive you
insane, but for a group of foreigners living in Nowon-Gu – a dormitory
community located on Seoul's north-eastern frontier – insanity would
come as a welcome alternative to being caught up in one man's
off-the-rails dream to control the local rave and private English
teaching scenes.

At the centre of this maelstrom is a Canadian from rural Ontario who
goes by the name of "Bhagwan Doneeshi." The Bhagwan, a private English
teacher cum amateur rave promoter who has lived in Korea for just over
10 years, is described by those in the know as one of the most
"extreme" and "delusional" characters to set foot on the peninsula.

A self-confessed believer in Kabbalah, an aspect of Jewish mysticism
that counts Madonna and her beau Guy Ritchie amongst its faithful, the
Bhagwan has incorporated elements of his religion into plans to
control and financially exploit Nowon-Gu's foreign community.

According to Mick Puxty, a former member of the Bhagwan's cult who
turned "whistleblower" in the hope of ending what he describes as a
"Kafkaesque existence" for foreigners in Nowon-Gu, life in the suburb
is "barmy."

Fearing retribution from the Bhagwan and other "hardcore" members of
the cult, Puxty, a 35-year-old English teacher from East London in the
UK, agreed to speak out on the condition that this story was published
only after he had safely left the country.

Meeting at a rundown goshiwon near Sanaggye Subway Station, Puxty
looks like a man on the run, his haunted eyes and unshaven face
betraying the immense stress that he is under. Furtively sticking his
head out of the doorway, Puxty quickly looks left and right before
asking in a cockney accent : "Did you come alone?"

"Of course," I reply.

And with a wink he beckons me to follow him inside and down the hall
to a tiny room that reeks of cigarette smoke, barren of any furniture
except a striped canvas bag overflowing with crumpled clothing, a
roughly folded blanket, a small television set and a Sony camcorder.

Locking the door behind him, Puxty, offers me a seat on his dusty
floor peppered with pubic hair and cigarette ash. He refuses to answer
any questions, instead asking that I first watch a camcording of what
he claims is incontrovertible proof that a dangerous foreigner-only
cult with Fat Boy Slim as its titular head is being used to control
the local rave and private English teaching scene.

The television screen flickers to life, as Puxty pushes play on the
camcorder, sits down on the floor, pulls the ring tab on his jumbo can
of Asahi Dry and lights up a Dunhill Red cigarette. Ghostly static and
electronic hiss is replaced by the image of heavily intoxicated
foreigners staggering around a darkened half-empty bar clutching baby
bottles with teats, dressed in what appear to be ill-fitting Namdaemun
knock offs of pricey casual wear.

The camera slowly pans around the room pausing on a bored looking DJ
sporting the latest military haircut as he ramps up a set of
depressing late 90s electronica hits. The Chemical Brothers "Hey Boy,
Hey Girl" hangs heavy in the air, playing on and on in an endless
loop.

To the untrained eye, the evening looks no different from any other
amateur rave put on by foreigners in Korea. The ravers seem desperate
to let their hair down after another week of language whoring, but
without any psychoactive substances there is no "friendliness," and
what unfolds is just another sad scene where alcoholic oblivion
quickly overtakes the participants; dreams of an evening of orgiastic
dance mania long turned sour.

But all is not as it seems – suddenly the music increases in volume
and a spotlight begins searching the room, bathing an obese male on
the dance floor in its light.

The man looks to be in his late 30s or early 40s and is wearing
nothing but a pair of tight rainbow coloured jockey shorts, a white
surgical mask and oversized porn star sunglasses that would make Ron
Jeremy proud. (1).  Waving his hands around in the air like he just
don't care, the trance-like expressions on the faces of the foreigners
watching him border on sheer ecstasy, there's no doubt: He owns the
room.

But when four similarly dressed acolytes, sans surgical masks, move
onto the dance floor behind this man mountain of jiggling blubber
carrying a massive headshot photograph of Norman Cooke a.k.a. Fatboy
Slim – a superstar DJ and one of the UK's hottest dance music acts,
the scene degenerates from bizarre to alarming.

"Look at that fat villain," snorts Puxty slamming his can of beer down
next to the camcorder. "He's ridiculous … thinks he's a god or
something."

On screen, the foreigners are beginning to strip down to their
underwear as Fat Boy Slim's biggest hit, "Praise You," erupts from the
sound system. Soon, everyone is prostrating themselves on the dance
floor in front of the Bhagwan, pausing only to suck from their baby
bottles like oversized chimpanzees.

Just as the footage looks to be getting truly interesting, the picture
cuts out, leaving an emotionally drained Puxty staring vacantly at the
screen, absolutely motionless.

"And that's it," he says suddenly snapping out of his trance and
turning the television off. "I was filming from the corner of the bar
but my battery went dead."

"So, what happens next?" I ask.

"It got really debauched," he says slowly shaking his head. "Blokes
kissing blokes, gals kissing gals, everybody doin' everything … like
ancient Rome."

According to Puxty, the foreigners are all members of a cult called
P.L.U.R (Peace, Love, Unity, Respect), which was formed by the Bhagwan
after he was banished from the now defunct partner-swapping group,
Club Aphrodite.

Kevin Mottershead, former organiser of Club Aphrodite which operated
out of his apartment in Hagye-dong, says the Bhagwan is a new breed of
animal; a disturbing aberration from the usual ESL flotsam and jetsam
that washes up on these shores, with a lust for money, power and raw
adulation that knows no bounds.

"Dude, when I knew the Bhagwan he was all about living in an alcoholic
stupor, returning only to semi-sobriety to teach privates or score a
sex fix," he laughs. "He'd show up at my club with a hooker and try to
swing but no one was in to them because they were just too freaky. In
the end I had to lay a ban on him 'cause he kept trying to play lame-o
rave tunes that brought everyone down."

But bringing people down is the least serious of allegations laid
against the Bhagwan. Puxty claims that this sham Caesar maintains a
vice-like control over PLUR cult members by encouraging them to guzzle
booze to the point where they become borderline alcoholics, pay a
tithe from their earnings from private English teaching and much more
disturbingly: drink soju laced with herbal ecstasy at his raves.

"They're E-babies … that's what they're sucking out of the baby
bottles," he laughs. "Buying 'E' in Korea is too risky so the
Bhagwan's pushing his own creation: 'E-soju.'"

Renato Germinario, a qualified counsellor who taught English in Korea
for three and a half years says that he counselled several PLUR
members who had become addicted to 'E-soju.'

"Shattered is the best way to describe them," he says. "I'm not sure
if 'E-soju' is actually illegal but I do know that it's highly
addictive and that cult members who sought my help were all displaying
classic withdrawal symptoms."

"David," a former Sogang Language Program English teacher who lived
and worked in the area, claims the Bhagwan not only tried to get him
addicted to 'E-soju' at the handful of raves he attended, but also
extorted 10 percent of his monthly earnings from private teaching as
"tribute."

"I didn't have any choice," he says. "I was leaving for another job in
two months and didn't want any trouble. The Bhagwan threatened to
report me to immigration if I didn't pay up and I knew he meant
business."

"Yeah, that's his gig," says Puxty sadly shaking his head. "The
Bhagwan's more misguided than a clown at a funeral. He's mad for fear,
intimidation and preying on people's weaknesses. I dunno how he can be
stopped, or if anyone's even up for trying, all I know is that I'm
just not into this anymore."