test with cans

I had to try out the spay paint available here at the local hardware store. Different makes, large sprays,

top of the beiranese summer, it took between 24 to 48h to get each layer dry enough in order to put the next stencil on, without pulling half the 2 previous layers off. 

it was a good try, and the end result is pretty much similar to what I imagined. The kissing friends were quiet happy about it

Same one, but the picture was taken outside and the colours are a bit better but there are shades from branches above. Cannot have everything.  

  

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So lacking new material I’ll just put some outdated stuff, sketched last month.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

Day on the beach

So, Sunday I spend some time - waiting for a piri-piri chicken to be caught, feathered, gutted, spiced, grilled and served- on a nice terrasse from an old falling-down house on the beach at Estoril. 

I made a sketch of the morning view which I managed to scan (it took me 2 weeks to get a scanner to work, get connected to my computer and find some time to scan the sketchbook), and it is quite nice as well, with the rusted skeleton of the Macuti boat, the lighthouse etc. 

BUT, and there is always something similar happening here, the TDM connection I have is just too slow and weak to upload anything bigger than 600ko. So I'll post it later, after going to vodacom, charge my internet account etc. as the saying goes here... amanha!

So, I had some time on the beach-I-cannot-share-the-sketch-of, catching on people passing by, listening to the melodious high powered speakers next door, with the latest passada tune, and the fabulous comments of a beach volley-ball game ("Agrrrrradecemos a Municipalidade da Beirrrrra e a Assssssssociaçao prrrrrovincial de Volleyball pelo evento, Agorrrra a equipe feminina da Universidade Pedagogica vai jogar contra a equipa masculina das forrrrrrrrças arrrrrrrrmadas, Agrrrrrrrrrradecemos a Municipalidade da Beira ...."). 

To be honest, when I realized that there was a stage and humongus speakers being connected with 13 fifty meter extensions to the fridge of the restaurant where I was intending to eat, I did fear another OMO, coca-cola or dishwashing liquid promotion. Those are particularly bad because generally there is an attempt to have some type of play-back / talent show or dance contest and the music-man puts the sound so high that the speakers actually crash all together. It is otherwise known as a musical suicide. 

So I was rather happy about the volley ball event, the passada etc. 

I got my chicken after 2 hours, wich was exactly what the guy told me when I asked, he said an hour for the chicken (+ an hour for the fries, the sum is right).

 

Sr Nhamazinga was having a sunday-beer, he saw this profile and was actually happy about it. So he signed the page. Good one.

just people passing by.


Rodson saw the sketch of Sr Nhamazinga and asked me to sketch him smiling and with his manica. He gave me 3 seconds of smile before freezing in a neutral tone. I do think that what he really wanted was to get me to draw the 2 women that were with him. I was keen to do so but they did not want.
It's just fun to meet all sort of people.
There also was a Spanish guy who watched the beach pic, then he must have taken 100 pictures of me sketching. I draw, others picture, fair enough.

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.