Thursday was quite the tearful one I must say. I opened my long lost luggage only to find things missing! What the friggity fudge?!!!!! I find staples I was suppose to use to reassemble my work missing. I find my nails missing? I find the kneaded erasers I purchased to conduct the workshops missing………….I even find my needle nose pliers missing………..Something in my internal conscious was wondering if the people of Africa are trying to build a house with staples, nails, kneaded easers, and needle nose pliers? After a day of sorrow and frustration I was able to pull resources together to put my paintings together. They look rather nice against each other. It’s a shame and a blessing that Zimbabwe is my first of so many sorts. It’s the first country to de-virginize my international traveling experience. It’s the first non-US place I spend my birthday, and it’s the first place I have my first solo art show!!!!! Later that evening I had lunch with one of the embassy employees Michelle. She was born here in the city of Bulawayo, and does not speak the language at all. She’s one of the better off people who were schooled in the best schools and attended school in the states, Mt Holy Oak to be exact……..I hope I spelled that right. In any event it was funny hanging out with her as people thought she was way more American than I was. She was a no nonsense, no patience having, shopping shopping shopping, in your face,…………..and did I mention shopping kind of girl who totally showed me a different side of the people here. We had heated discussions comparing our personal upbringing and impression on the city and Africa in general. Her views are completely opposite to the more prideful opinions and views of my guide Clifford. We were eating and I mentioned to her she should finish her plate because people are starving about three blocks away………and she replied “Well doesn’t matter if I finish or not they’re still not going to enjoy any of it…………People enjoy their simple mashed corn they don’t like healthy foods or fine dining, they’re happy the way they are.” I was furious. It’s one thing to enjoy what you’ve enjoyed all your life but that doesn’t make it right. There is a system to feed people simple slave food and say they are content, but I’m pretty sure many of them were never introduced to healthier and different options because they were always poor in the first place and mashed corn was their only option. If you grow up eating healthy you will want to continue eating healthy. Many people here have to eat simple mashed corn. They never had a choice because they were poor. And thinking that “oh it’s ok” they will survive on corn, sucks for the future generation as well. When will wealth be properly distributed so that kids are introduced to healthier options? She assured me that once I visit other countries and witness more poverty I’ll be desensitized and I’ll carry on living it up……….The thing that pissed me off even more was these were her own people she was talking about. I thought about my own people; Haitian people, and in more intimate terms my own family. There are times that I’ve been too selfish to send my mother money or sister and ran out and bought a video game thinking the same thing “They’ll be ok, they’re used to being poor”. I went to sleep so frustrated because I don’t know what to make of my experience here. I’m getting over the white vs. black thing, and now it’s me against history. I hate this Shit!!!!!!!! I fell asleep thinking about the weekend.
Friday August 13, 2010
I have been having the craziest dreams as of late. Last night I dreamt of girl who attended my high school back in the day. Her name was Ebony Patterson. What the hell am I dreaming about Ebony (mocha) Patterson in Africa for? I must have missed the subconscious memo that said I was suppose to subconsciously thinking of my classmate from 10 years ago. I had a dream she was asking me to ask her questions. I remember asking her would she rather marry a blind man or a deaf man? She answered she rather marry a deaf man because she would always want him to see her face. Even if she couldn’t hear him say I love you, he would see it in their interaction. Swear to my Playstation 3 and Call of Duty Modern Warfare that was the truth. I had another dream of Tiffany, Maya’s friend who posed for me for a series of drawings I’m currently working on. We were on our way to a school and she was explaining to me her reason for going to this particular school. We arrive at the school and she disappears and all of a sudden children are thanking me for teaching them. My last dream was me sitting in Africa talking to Kayla and her mom under a tree. I kept looking around my shoulder in fear a lizard would fall on me. She laughed at everything I said, and I was paranoid for some reason just getting up and walking around. I also had a dream I was fighting my old friend Slyvester. He had two irons in his hands and was attempting to box me with them. I grabbed a samurai sword and tried to stab him and just before the blade entered his Ashy St. Croix treated skin I wake up to roosters and the sounds of my body passing gas. This is Eric at his humble truth people. I have to share these experiences to keep me from going crazy in this “one minute you’re happy, one minute you’re depressed place”. Dreams I tell ya. Today was cool as hell in some ways and depressing in others. I visited an art center where I gave an art demo and taught technical vocational art students how to draw using the methods Peter Cox, an academy professor, taught me. It went well and I got great response. I felt like a rock star for once. Afterwards we visited a woman owned, woman ran art center where I purchased items for the most important women in my life; my mother, sister Lucie, and sister Nadia. After that we traveled through the poorest area in the city………………….Shit…………………I have never witnessed such shockingly fucked up shit! There were children playing near and on raw sewage. The smell alone could kill you. There were houses no bigger than a small bathroom housing 10 people. I was shaking. Literally shaking. My eyes started to water and my guide Clifford calmed me by letting me know it’s ok to feel upset. Things happen. Upon leaving the little town I counted my blessings and thanked the lord for showing me this. I thanked him for allowing me to be birthed in place where I did not have to experience things this rough. Life in Little Haiti was rough, but not this damn rough. We had interviews scheduled and the first was at a radio station. It was live and modern and once inside I forgot I was in Africa. It was independently run and the whole staff was black. The people running it were women. I’m a man and I have to admit I love it when women run it!!!.........! The radio interview was hot as in good times. I was actually on the radio answering questions. I took pictures in the booth and was given a tour of the place. The woman showing us around was a sexy heavy set woman. She defied popular culture coke bottle bodies that magazines crave. We had another interview with some snooty “I think I’m hot because I got a $2 wig on” woman and went to go visit the popular artist that is on trial for showing his political work. This guy Owen Maseko blew me away. He was quite impressive in his savvy and the way he talked about his art. He would definitely succeed in the States if he wanted to. We had a 2pm beer, and just talked about art, and shot the crap a bit. I met his wife and son, and returned to the gallery to continue mounting my fucked up work. The name of my exhibition is called “When I was 6”. Simple and I love it. I am finding myself as an artist here, and really enjoying it. I’m also finding myself which is even more rewarding. This weekend I’m camping at Victoria Falls for my birthday, and visiting Hwange national park to chill with the Lions in open habitat. Turning 27 is going to be the shit………….Whattup Cool guy Craig…………….Free Weezy!
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