4hr, 36minutes Job

They said, don’t swear till the temptation waves have passed you by and you are still standing. I used to sigh hard about anything that required proving my stands on issues, till two days ago in the comfort of my room, I quit sighing.

One adage says that the eyes have to eat first before the mouth. I suspected all along that it must be an African adage for that is the kind that comes from here. Western and Asian chefs to my surprise were always males specializing in the aesthetic part of food presentation in their TV programs. Like I said I wasn't a fan till a few days ago and I became addicted to one from the same program.

I was waiting for the same cooking program that hooked me not long ago to come on air, I had an assignment on cooking I wanted to watch first before drafting my assignment around the program. I decided to browse for I still had around 35 minutes to the program when I accidentally came upon a documentary on crime that changed the trajectory of my favorite programs once again. It was the Western guy with their manner of crime based on manipulating numbers on machines that have anything to do with money. Gambling, bank-strong room number combinations, safes, etc.

This particular guy was at it full-time with hotels and banks that defied the police for a long till they had a lucky break. I was lost on the documentary and when it came to the eyes of witnesses narrating to the police artist or whatever they are called by a guy they believed they saw in passing and how those officers recreated the man's image from the simple description of the eyes witness were providing and how fast the officer drew the guy from the simple description, I was bought. I got so lost watching the program and observing those artist officers that I spent almost two hours watching the documentary and I forgot the 45-minute chef's program I sat in front of the TV for. I don’t know if people can be that imaginative with their hands and heads. The criminal guy was cloned on the paper the officers were scribbling on not three minutes after the witness stopped speaking. 

To think that the officer was drawing on a notebook placed on his crossed leg, with no canvas, no paints, no initial drawing to be put right later in the name of editing, just straight from the mouths of those describing the guy they never looked at them twice for they suspected nothing and they officer got it right to the dot. Drawing falls under art and art subjects were my area and that spirit of I can rest after that program and I decided to try my hands afterward that Tuesday evening.

Since I didn't have any drawing tools except my pencil, I decided to improvise like the officer. But I had my small doubts. I used to see the fine and applied art students molding those sculptures and see others in front of the board drawing and painting from afar. This officer had only his cro$ leg, paper, and pencil. I decided that it would be fine if I followed the example of the students sitting in front of their aisles rather than with crossed legs. I tore from the center of my long note about six pads and used my tap to stick them on the wall in front of my room, picked up my HD pencil and pen, carried my chair, and faced those notepads. Oh, my picture was gummed with the same cello tape beside the makeup canvas and I went to work. My neighbor was my only initial spectator for almost 40 minutes I was drawing and cleaning, drawing and cleaning before my fans increased to about nine mockers many from neighboring lodges.

   “So, Mr. Tony, are you planning to change department?” one banking and finance student asked mockingly. 

I smiled at that comment and wondered whether he believed I would supply the answer to that question. My awaited chef program was forgotten entirely and my dinner was delayed afterwards for about an hour plus. I was not discouraged by their bantering and mockery. “Do you need a ruler or compass, Mr. Tony?” I refused to turn around for some of the voices weren't familiar at all. I was mesmerized and inspired and I was chirping away unconcerned. My pencils and papers were now complaining about my love for the cleaners and ignoring their plights. 

   My class assignment on the chefs and their foodies is by that time based on the account from my two friends staying not far from my lodge. It's now based on how they saw and interpreted what the narrator was saying not how I saw it for I saw nothing for about three hours when it was all through. 

Picture is what I didn’t hate or love as a person before the documentary. It was 50-50 things for me, but now, I have started seeing it as one of those things that made earth, earth, and us humans. I was chirping at it like mad and was wondering if it was the papers and the wall or my head. I was starting to wonder if I couldn't draw my image in front of me, is it a criminal image from the mouth of the witnesses I would be able to do?

   But, when you are the kind of man who doesn’t let anything art-based intimidating you, a man who likes challenges like the one this unintended documentary threw up, you will refused to bow. That was what I did, I refused to bow and the minutes I stopped hearing the voices of my fans or is it mockers, I couldn’t tell exactly. I concentrated.

I will occasionally blame my not making any headway on the lack of tools, proper ones. Even my eraser I can tell you must have been made in China with Africa in mind. At times, it will warrant applying a little sigh for it to clean itself. Two hours later, I was still at it now with the electric light on. 

When I took a break and decided to go to my coursemates for their briefings, their observations differed by about 35%. “was it narrated in Latin?” was my question to the second guy I visited. His account was far from what the first guy said. I decided to visit a CD store opposite the campus for the guy imported a machine he used in recording whatever programs he noticed many students liked and renting them out to students. I picked the recorded program up there and went back to my lodge.

   I dropped the CD on the bed and went back to my drawing. I was at it for about thirty-six minutes more before calling it finished. 

The clock above my room door said it was 8:45 pm and I did a mental calculation of how much I spent on the challenge I had with my portrait, I eyed the portrait again and refused to accept that it was not worth it. The idea wasn't for it to worth it, the idea was that crossed-legged officer drawing that criminal and I had little excuses as my reasons after comparison.

    But, beauty as they said is in the eyes of the beholder. I wasn’t disoriented. I was feeling a little hungry.