London in ales

September, October,I just got to spend a couple of days in London and in Ireland for work. It has been over a decade since I last was in London. A very faithful city, where changes are measured by the ticketing system of the tube, and the clothes people wear. Very different from the drastic transformation of neighborhoods, roads and communities we can see in Nairobi, Addis or Kolkata. London peacefully breathe when others blow fire!

It was very pleasant to get there, a comfortable feeling to be back where I left.I guess that is Europe for me, comfortably numb, predictable and faithful. Really pleasant.

I also got quite a great news: the Urban Sketcher crew asked me to be one of their correspondent! I am really chaffed, but realized that I had kind of failed to open my black books since early June. I am not a consistent blogger, which is expected. So: room for improvement, and an extra motivation boost on my side. 

I often have grand plans. I can see really clearly things to do and how to do them in my head, but I struggle to make them real. If I give birth to one project for every 100, that is good. Just for Octobre I was planning to go on the Inktobre challenge, learn how to use a hashtag, try to update my blog, to sketch roads and places in London and Dublin, to do some cartoons illustrating the holidays, to paint my daughter’s bedroom (bucket list for over a year), to make a hundred swords (and shields) for my son to sell, to start a comic book,… I guess there are too many things, and too few hours/ days. And I need to accommodate a full time job I love, be present for my family and socializing, discovering new things, walking, breathing.

That would bring me to the pub.

It’s outside of working hours, there is food, socials, pints of beer and the comfort of a place where to sit, talk and sketch. It is the way I cheat, trying to pack as many things as possible in one moment.    

 Pubs in Paddington, pints of ales and English bitters, versatile pub-food and people speaking dozen of languages appreciating the same piece of English heritage, a pub-quizz with mates, ageless carpets and the constant ballet between the gents and the door, for a quick fag and chat.  

 Funny how a drawing tells me stories. This sketch was done after I prayed with a pirate and his wife, on a boat rolling with rum and wine! A couple of hours spend on board of a boat on the canal, invited by a couple to discuss life on the water and sharing stories.

Cheers!
 

Sierra Leone... Life after Ebola

Back to Sierra Leone early January!

What a change, how lively it is, the country is back swagging, people go out, beaches and bars are full, what a change from last year, the contrast is enormous, highlighting both the resilience of the people from Salone and the admirable way they changed their habits and life, to respond to the worst Ebola outbreak. 

I have so much respect for them, now we are drinking, we are dancing and playing ball on the beach, that's the way we roll! 

  

People are back in the streets, gazillions of them, and I could spend some time in the markets and slums of Freetown. Informal settlements during the week and touristy spots on the WE.

One of the pleasure of spending time in slums is that they are full of contrasts. The first impressions are mostly filled with the litter, the smells of fire, sewage, food, noise and durtiness. Then you start paying attention to life, to the kids, the multiple businesses, the youths putting up a party spot, the others playing ball, and you come to the realization that the metal city is breathing and moving. Then beauty comes out. Beauty is shy. It comes in the way rooms are taken care of, the paintings on the walls, the people you meet or, in this specific case, in the work of craftsmen. Facing the sea is the shipyard, and a boat was being finished. I don't know what resonated so much in me. Was it the colours, the size or the story behind the boat? The ship builder told me that it was commissionned to navigate between Conakry and Freetown, transporting up to 25 people, with their merchandises. It was due to be lauched early february. It should be on the ocean now. The boats tell stories of the fishermen, of mobility and the relations people build between regions. The boats and the zinc houses are full of dreams, energy and aspirations. Walking in dirt with heads full of dreams. 

 

Thanks guys for taking me out to the Whatsapp -and filling a USB with local tunes. A cool venue to dance on nigerian, ghanean, Salone beats, azondo, dancehall, ndombolo and others! So nice to go out! So much more simple than in zim. You don't feel like an intruder, you're a guest and it feels good.

Quincy (previousely known as Paddy's) is another night spot, a bar, dancefloor and pool tables on the beach. I went there because I couldn't not go out. It's Freetown and Ebola is over. You have to dance for life. I was thinking I'ld find people in that popular venue but no-one I knew was there. There was a police-force function, with distribution of certificates and prizes, then the music kicked in.
When I'm alone I sketch. As a man alone in a bar, I draw attention, and the solitude is quickly broken by friendly ladies of the night. I find that drawing enables to switch the conversation, to discuss about something else than love, businness and attraction. We then get to chat about what I am doing, I get to do their portrait and chat about our lives, the children, the jobs, dreams of success and a good life. I like to hear stories of people. I think that in a sense that is what I do. Last year a young girl in india asked me what I was doing. I was visiting her school, in a brick kiln. the workplace of her family. It is difficult for me to explain my job to children, so I said that I am hearing stories from people all over the world and I can share them. In a way I am a storyteller. I am collecting hundreds of stories,  snippets of life from people who have/ are facing hardship and from those who live with empathy and compassion. I collect stories of violence and love, poverty and dreams, neglect and care.
And I see with so much clarity the similarity in the human experience, regardless of colour, gender, religion, group of belonging, environment... humans are designed to love, to help each others, to cooperate and to show compassion. Whatever the situation, be there war, natural disaster, violence... there will always be people who will care and help, regardless of the danger, regardless of themselves.
I met last week a beautiful women, she is working for the catholic church in a war zone, helping to provide health facilities to over half a million people. Under the bombs. On one side you have people trying hard to destroy, on the other you have others that keep on building and caring regardless. They win. She told me that she spoke to the bishop about the extreme situation she is working in, and yet that feeling of being alive, happy and so looking forward to go back in the field. Under the bombs, living surrounded by violence. The bishop said that it was like being in Love. Love make people do crazy things, forgetting themselves and yet feeling in complete harmony and peace.
     

My daughter can share images from her head, she can put thoughts in other people's heads and dreams. She is 5, she is right, she shares good thoughts. I should do that more often.Kids know things adults have forgotten.

I am back

Well, a month without sketching, going through a scanning adventure and uploading went by, and funny enough, the world has not stopped, not even slowed its rotation. How disappointing.  Not very good at all for my ego.

So lacking new material I’ll just put some outdated stuff, sketched last month. I’ll try to put some stories behind them though.

   

First, a view of Harare, from the 7^th floor at Eastgate Mall, where I went for some meetings in REPSSI’s offices, meetings for my other life, working in child protection. 

I think that the road depicted is 2d Street, heading towards the train station, I am very bad with names, it could also be Takawira, Chitepo or R.Mugabe. All heroes (but Second street). One should know them, I shall not detail the deeds and wonders they brought the world, Wikipedia is a very usefull tool for those who want to learn something in that respect. 

Truth is that -apart from street names-, Harare centre show nice pieces of architecture, from early 20^th, art deco small shops and buildings, Victorian style and colonial English, the type one can recognize in places where the british empire created cities. I should really try to find or set  a group of urban sketchers to roam the city centre and share its interests with the global world.

Another great thing about Harare, is that the place enable us to meet and discuss with members of the force. Not the laser-sabre ones, unfortunately, but the constables. Always ready to share their points of views, discuss eventual disagreements and test one’s knowledge of the law. I still feel that they should handle diplomas of good behavior and incorruptibility, once you are stopped by a constable for something you did not do, try to be fined a fine that is not existing and ask to pay it outside what is set by the law. I have a dream of discussing my case for 3 hours on the side of the road, being send to the cop shop to continue the debate and then, after a day spend over a 20 usd fine that should not be, to have the lady in Kalashnikov smile and say: “Well done Fred, you are really worth living here, for not taking bullshit, for not allowing quick bribes, for not being intimidated by the uniform or the nozzle of the AK, and in all cironstances to remain straight, righteous and honest. Please, here is a honorific diploma with the warm embraces of Zim Road Police Force”. She would then stamp the certificate, kiss me on the cheeks whilst hugging me (I will then understand the use of the AK, to keep a safe barrier between the agent and me, in case the sudden change of mood makes the embrace uncomfortable). I guess that such certificate could also be taped on the front window, under the insurance, the radio tax paper and the road tax one, and could serve as a waiver for every other police stops, let’s say for a year. It is utterly difficult sometime to explain to my kids the good cop /bad cop imbroglio. One day I have to tell them that mom is at the cop shop to put a police officer to prison, one other day we need the help of the police because they are here to help the common folks against thiefs and bad men. Then again, at least around here there is always room to discuss, whether you are guilty or not, and the encounters with the 3d kind make great bar stories.

In the meanwhile in Mozambique other uniformed lads from the opposition party understood that the system is a bit unfair to any discording voices and decided to take up the weapons once again, after years of peace and stability. Armed groups cut the north-south road, train lines etc. Worse still, they RPG two trucks from Cerveja de Moçambique, killing two. So travelling by road got more spicy: there is an added chance of getting bullets and a lesser chance finding a cold beer to quench the adrenaline rush.

Anyway. Life is good.  

 The sketch above is from the beach in Beira, behind a hotel complex made in China, the Golden Peacock Resort, the canon is probably russian, and as any military/offical/administrative building, taking a picture of it can lead to prison (cfr Lianne's story ), but I don't really know if  drawing something one cannot picture also constitute a crime. I really should ask my lawyer here about it. Anyway, a couple beers, a pack of friends, big guns and the beach, a nice way to spend a sunday afternoon.

 

 Above, a house I wanted to sketch for a while for it is always in the way. On one of the posts with the sketches from mozambique of 2012, I've drawn the bombeiros,. Well, this place is not too far.
The next view, neither. From the fire-man-house go straight towards the house sketched above, and continue, one should reach the Praca do Sun Light (a very popular chinese entertainment place with a jumping castle for kids, hot dogs, burgers and beers) from where this sketch has been made.

I had to meet up with two guys who came back from France doing a juggling technique taining. I was late, they were later, so i sketched the shoe and bras sellers on the other side of the road. Sitting on a plastic bench, at Sunlight. A half a dozen beers later and to resume the conversation, they are looking for some contracts or sponsors for their show. And they are bloody good (Vinos and Cokas and Co).

That is it for now. Cheers.

Posts from Maputo and Beira

Beira Marginal, its own version of the Promenade des Anglais, the mighty Marina.

The sketch below was made quite early during the evening, before the sun sets, which is why it is so empty. After dark, and until midnight, the beach road gets packed: ladies selling beer and refrescos from their cooler boxes, car parked with youngsters sipping booze and flirting, a 2 way traffic jam of cars, windows open, each one trying to cover the music from the other cars. For the people who are standing and enjoying their drinks on the side of the road, the car festival can only be compared to a  one year old discovering the radio, having found the sound button (up up up) and now pressing the channel button with great joy. Car with blue neon under the chassis plays full blast Passada, Deu me Amor pink honda spitting south african techno, '95 mazda pick up with 10 teenagers in the back blasting Shakira, Oh a quite corolla, then an Angolan-dance-boombox on wheels, a toyota hilux proving that Bon Jovi is also popular here, boum boum boum tchakalaka boum boum boum, Crash! (that is Bon Jovi kissing the arse of Shakira, failing to recognize her hidden break lights)- The traffic stops, Castel-Light-loaded drivers jumps out, eager to kill each other, then finding that they are, in fact, cousins and should continue their ride and let their dads sort the damages later...

People drinking, people watching, people driving, people getting deaf, and some working too, the cooler-box sellers, the cigarette and chewing gum vendors, the kids watching after cars, the portuguese Sporting-Fan selling his hot dogs, the chinese take-away guy busy cooking his  Mozambican dishes /Cantonese style, the tchopela (tuk-tuk) drivers offloading some sailors,... on a big night half Beira meet up on the 100 meters between the hot dog stand and the Mira Mar bar. It is busy. 

Small sketch done in Maputo. On Ave Lumumba there is a small old house, escondida between two blunt styled concrete towers (the type that inspired generations of architects building low-income-tower and making sure people living there feel as bad as possible). There are still such surprises in Maputo, where in the middle of eye-sores one will see some type of wonders that make it interesting, and gives its charm. This old house is one of those. Could pass 10.000 times in the street without noticing it, then one day, you are brought there. It is nice. As well they are doing food, prato do dia, no gourmet dishes but good food.
That is a great thing about Mozambique, and the west Africa I had the pleasure to know, is that there are hundreds of small hidden places to eat and drink out. A lot of chicken chopped, millions of potatoes slaughtered and fried, fish scaled, and salad dug. I do hope it can stay that way for a bit more time.
Oh and in that small old house, they also had WiFi. The house is falling down, but does it in style:  connected to the world. Now that is cool.

  

And last one from Maputo was done in Mundo's, a thatched place with international food and pizzas. It used to be full of south africans, now its a bit more mixed, still a lot of foreigners. When I draw I seem to be able to listen better. So during the hour at Mundos, I had the pleasure to hear two frenchmen talking NGO stuff and their relations with the ministery of health, an American lady pushing a Spanish guy in sharing his sex life stories with her (and detailing hers in the same time), a group of noisy Portuguese getting upset with the waiter, an English family laughing together, a women missionary reading her kindle, a mozambican  couple sharing their silence, a table full of businessman getting pinted after a sealed deal, and me in the middle

Beira's Bars

Leaving Harare for Beira tomorrow and going back to spending a good amount of time in bars and restaurants, patiently waiting for my orders to eventually be ready.
The following sketches were made last time I travelled there. Mira Mar, disgusting food, peculiar and mixed clientèle, is a great place to sketch, there is always something to catch, people having a drink, the ballet of friendly girls, the band,... Unfortunately now the beach front has been blocked by large canvas, so it's not possible anymore to sit and sip whilst looking at the sea, the sellers and courageous joggers. Will try to get it next time, from beira bar then.  
 

These two next sketches were made @ bambu bar, recently opened by Fidelina. Its unfortunately difficult to find for it is hidden in a back alley of the Ponta Gea market and there is absolutely no indication about it on the door... which stays closed because of the aircon running. Then again, one feels like a guest there, sharing the secret of a shadowy place.
 

 A quick face caught at the Esplanada bar. I don't even know its name, its on a type of mirrador in front of the central hospital of Beira. Was having a small beer with Martin there, who seems to be a frequent customer there for as soon as he parks his jeep, the waiter opens a small 2M, prepare an ashtray and trains his smile. That day, Sheila was enjoying the hospitality of the Hospital Central of Beira, giving birth to a big boy. Because Martin was not welcome in the delivery room, we had to stay at bay, close enough to be able to hear the screaming and smell the iodine, but at a reasonable distance not to be seen with a beer and samusas. Women in labour have little sense of empathy. 

 

 This one was done at Solange, although the coffee and pastel de nata were taken the next day at So bolos.
Moz imports a lot of things from Portugal, and Delta Coffee seems to be a must for all coffee places in town. I don't want to disrespect the delta corporation nor the great portuguese industry behind it (or Sagres beer), but there are other alternatives, and Zimbabwe is producing great beans. 

Speaking of Sagres, it is sold in 20cl beer bottles. How ridiculous, looks like one of those you will receive in a plane. So sitting next to the natives of the algarve, full of saudade of their home country, sipping minuscule droplets of Sagres, you will find any other connoisseur  with common sense, going for the local cervejas that not only taste good but as well is made for the climate in 33 or 66 cl.
I recently discovered that in the one dry restaurant (Churasqueira on the independence place with the Samora Machel statue), they started selling the 20cl Sagres. To me its either because they think it is a joke, because they appreciate the effort of putting so much package for such a small contents or because they see it as halaal. In any case, when a dry place serves Sagres, water and juice, there is something fishy.  

Another good spot, the 9to9 bar. Good food, good drinks, good prices.
And here he was, in front of me, El Père Noël in person, sipping a draft, talking business, in a blue overall.
I always found the HoHo-man a bit too much: Who in his right state of mind would be pretending to have a healthy relationship with deers and gnomes, only wears red fluffy coat and trousers, speaks with a US-accent and above all lives in the pole and drinks coke instead of the aquavit (that is the only way to keep blood from freezing). It did not look anything else but fake and every christmas, I have to lie, and lie and lie  and lie to my children. It's a torture.
Now I know better, he pretends to do that, probably for adverts reason, but in real life, he lives on the beach in Beira, does not drink Sagres, specializes in radiators and even speaks australian. Now I've got something with substance to tell my kids when I lie to them about who is piling presents under the Christmas tree, it will make me feel less bad.
I hope I'll see the Easter bunny in one of Beira's bar next month.