March 05, 2008

We met in the back of a car in a restaurant in Nairobi less than one year ago. I think it was around June 2007. His friend had told me that there was some one I should meet. And I took the chance. Even though I had my Danish candy then, I could not deny the attraction I felt for him. We sat at the back of his friends car and looked at each other, sizing each other up. He was tall, dark and handsome. Now, usually, I don't go for the dark (read African) type but he captivated me. He was like no other man I'd ever met. He was quiet, unless he had to say something really deep and profound, and when he spoke, he left me breathless and speechless, almost .... hyperventilating.

He had no place to stay, and his friend figured that I could help him out.
I was stranded. He has those pleading eyes, the kind you can say no to.
Doe-eyed, I believe it is called. They looked something close to this...

I succumbed to the manipulative eyes and agreed to take him home. Meanwhile, I was wondering how to tell Lars about him. I could say nothing was going, that we were just hanging out, I was just giving him a place to stay blah blah. Even to me, that sounded lame. And if I could not convince myself, how would I convince Lars? Anyway, I took the Chance. I hinted to Lars on the phone a couple of times, and he seemed not to suspect anything....or knowing Lars, he was just letting it pass.

Bob and I were inseparable. He did not have a job and I did not mind footing all the bills. After all, his presence was all over, but no impact on my living costs at all. Of course I had to leave him when I went to work, but would rush home every evening to be with him. He made me laugh, sometimes we fought over little things. Well, it is correct to say I fought with him, as he never talked back to me. It is frustrating fighting with someone who won't fight you back, though it does help you see the triviality of your quarrel.

On every shoot that required me to be out of town, I'd take him with me. He did not get in the way of my job, or the production and that made it so easy to take him along. It was like having a pet that required your presence only no conversation, no cleaning after...Needless to say, I was falling in love. That made me very worried.. as it should anyway. It seemed like he was competing for my affection with Lars, and he always won, what with Lars being in this town miles and oceans away from me. (look for clues on the right hand side)

His name was Bob. He started to get sick about two months after he moved in with me. At first, he kept quiet about it. I noticed a change. He was not as vibrant in conversations as he used to be. He would talk to me for a while, then keep quiet. At first, I took this bouts of silence to mean that he was reflecting, but then they became too common and too long. sometimes he would not speak to me at all. Luckily, I got a film shoot in Maasai Mara and thought that we could use that opportunity to think about things... well, him at at least. As I was packing, he asked me to take him with me, as he needed a change of scenery. I figured I was going to be too busy to be on his space, so i agreed.

Two days later, Bob and I were sitting in our tent, talking. Ever since we got there, he had been vibrant, though I had to let him take breaks just in case he felt I was imbuing his space too much. Suddenly, I smelt something burning. At first, I thought it was coming from outside the tent. Usually, the camp attendants lit firewood and put huge tanks to heat bathing water. I thought that maybe someone had accidentally put in rubber with the wood. The rubber smelt become stronger, and I noticed a white smoke. White smoke is good when it's in the Vatican, but coming from Bob, that was far from good. I panicked. I put Bob on the bed, and tried to resuscitate him. He was not responding. The smoking stopped. And so did Bob. He lay there, lifeless, me siting by him, helpless. My black man was gone, and there is nothing I could do to help him. I did not cry, but i was heartbroken. For the 4 months i had known Bob, my life had changed immensely. Lars had even come to accept him and agree to share my affections with him. I was yet to see how the two related when out in the same room.

It's been almost 7 months now, and I keep thinking of getting replacement. Thing is, being my first, it's hard to just forget him and move on. I'm thinking of replacement, now that Lars is not around anyway, but I keep thinking about Bob whom I have preserved in my closet. Though he is gone, he still looks sweet, strong and oh-so-wonderful. I stopped looking at him, and one of this days, I'll gather the courage to lay him to rest.

Rest in peace Bunny Bob.

I have been following a certain blog with interest. One about Tony Blair. And no, i did not just see the light (or darkness) and decide to follow British Politics. This is of a self-taught artist that highlights the development of his career from his childhood to present. I'm not an artist buff, but i have to admit that his work did catch my attention. He works with paper, rather, that was his first raw material, before graduating to foliage, fabric and electric cables. I am concerned about the last one though.. one of this days, Tony won't post on his blog as he would be looking something like this:


Tony lives on, no wait for it, not Downing Street but Newcastle upon Tyne with his two brothers and a foster mother. I'm yet to establish how they ended up in that home. Lucky for him, Tony's foster mother is an artists too, could be it runs in the family, and now exhibits Tony's work along side hers in the 36 Lime Street gallery. His brothers do help once in a while too. Helena, his foster mother says that she first noticed his creative prowess when he first walked across some clay tiles and left his paw prints and has not looked back since.

Some of my favourite works of art from this artist are;

&

Every time i see beautiful work, I long to see the artist or creator at work. It's something I have with watching things take shape, forms getting defined, ideas coming to life. It's more of me challenging my mind to visualize the canvas as a complete art material, (the canvas here meaning any raw material - including that full formerly whole Avocado - that the artist uses to create his art). I then keep the idea of what i think the finished product will look like, then hold my breath (depending on how fast the artist is) until he / she finishes. I would not want to swoon and faint on an artist, and give him the impression that his art took my breath away, though I think that would be a good selling point for the artist. Thus being said, there is nothing I'd love as much as watching Tony in action. Apart from the fact that he is very talented and a lively, Tony is very cute, and you can be sure that he works hard, not taking advantage of his looks.

Here is Tony with one of my favourite of his works.


Oh, I forgot the tiny detail that Tony is The Artist Formerly Known as the Rat.

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