Robert
LAUNDRY DAY.
There was nothing l liked more than telling stories ,when l was growing up you had to be seen to be doing something almost...
Jemah goes shopping
Some things only happened in my village,there was entertainment everywhere,there were no cinema halls but even if they were,then they couldn't have...
Robert Aswani's Paintings
LETS GO SHOPPING-SOLD
rek Afrika Gallery of Art is a unique setting of art display by hand picked east African artists.Robert Aswani himself a renowned self-taught artist...
Zack Aswani's Paintings
A story has been told about a small boy in my rural home who liked to go the market, he had to be on his best behavior for weeks to qualify to accompany Mama to the market. He used to bribe his way out by doing most of the housework. On the eve of the market day an announcement would be made over dinner about the lucky winner to make the trip to the market the next day.
While at the market, he enjoyed seeing so many people dressed in bright colors and going about their business. You could bump into your uncle whom you hadn’t seen for sometimes, at this point you definitely knew a doughnut was on the way, before you knew it, there was your aunt right in front of you, you could not believe your double luck but you had to work very fast, only this time you would let the eyes do the talking lest Mama caught you ‘begging’ for goodies from your relatives. You looked into your aunt’s eyes and smiled, then pointedly directed your eyes at a glass of juice sold nearby, then you looked at your aunt once more and smiled. She knew what to do , she just bought the juice and brought it to you, that way you could sip the juice and sneer at Mama to silently say ‘ the juice was only brought to me Mama l never asked for it’
By evening you could be so full that you could even forgive dinner.
That boy was me when l was growing up ,In every market painting that I do, there is always a figure or a posture like someone I know back in the village, it could be our noisy neighbor who sang all day tunelessly her bad voice notwithstanding, she terrorized the whole village with her bad singing ,she reminded me of either a frog trapped in a bottle trying to croak itself out or someone singing while biting on a piece of hard wood with your nose pinched. When she started singing her dog also barked in unison or it could be our querulous neighbor who fought everyone. Sometimes it is our other neighbor who always smiled endlessly or our other mean neighbor who never let her children out to play with the other children, ironically we would meet at school and play as much.
There are times when I see the village bully Mrs. Dodo, she never seemed to imagine there was another color a part from white ,all her clothes were white, she even wore white when going to work in the garden, she had a white cat, a white cow, a boy in my school claimed to have
overheard her making enquiries about the possibilities of a white donkey at the market but more frightening was the fact that she was rumoured to be a witch although no one proved it.
With all these memories I couldn’t think of anything better to paint other than a market scene.this website
