This is a sketch of a violinist I saw opposite the Cambridge Market​. It’s a spot that many people tend to come and perform at at various points in time. There is an interesting piece of sculpture in the area, with some mice walking around a black and white pole and a cat standing atop looking down. Across the street, fruits, veggies and a range of other market type things are sold, and many people often frequent the area. I imagine that that’s why so many performers choose the spot (because it’s busy) though I like to imagine that the mice and the white cat also have something to do with it. ^_^ The violinist’s name is Joel Grainger​… the name was written down on a sign in front of his performance area. I stood there for a while listening to him, enjoying the performance and being a bit jealous that I couldn’t play a violin myself. I figured that I’d draw the moment, because I quite enjoyed it and I thought it would be nice to share it.
After thinking some time on writing about it though, I began to feel a strange sense of insecurity; quite unrelated from anything to do with playing violins, but related instead to what I ‘should’ be writing about. Often enough, I come on Facebook and see folks, educated folks, talking about the recession, the economy, education, politics… serious stuff. I write about serious things from time to time too, though most times, if ever I write about a serious thing, it mostly centers around ‘identity’. I thought to myself, “Kalifa, you’re supposed to be an academic, an intellectual, a smart person who’s critically engaged with serious stuff; where are your posts offering opinion and critique of all the current events and news stories? Instead, you’re thinking about writing about violins, cats, feelings and random experiences.” It’s true, I quite enjoy writing and thinking about random, ‘light’ experiences. I like sharing them, drawing them, and I do feel some sense of guilt surrounding that; because I sometimes feel like maybe I should be more like other folks and comment on all the serious current events going on in T&T and around the world.
I’d like to think though that there is a place for me in the sea of opinion and experience that is social media. Perhaps I’m not quite the best at social, economic and political commentary, but I do think that I do a fair job at just documenting little joys and sorrows of life. 🙂
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To support me in funding my PhD studies, please hire me to do an illustration. Message me if interested and spread the word ^_^ Thanks!
To donate (if you don’t want to hire me): https://www.gofundme.com/tfe68rs OR Paypal:kalifadamani@gmail.com

I just completed my first week of classes for the new term. It was sort of an up/down week. This is a sketch of the beginning of Hills Road. The building in the background is Our Lady and the English Martyrs Church​. This is part of one of the routes I take when I walk to class. I drew more leaves on the trees than there actually are now, but yup.
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To support me in my PhD studies, please hire me to do an illustration. Message me if interested and spread the word kiki emoticon Thanks!
To donate (if you don’t want to hire me): https://www.gofundme.com/tfe68rs OR Paypal:kalifadamani@gmail.com

Incident 1: Chaguaramas
I was walking along the beach, dressed in casual wear, just relaxing. I’d decided to visit, not to bathe, but just to walk, explore and enjoy the natural beauty of the area. After walking past an empty lifeguard lookout, and heading toward the road from the shore, a man who was walking with a group, smiled and said ‘Good Morning’. I smiled back and said ‘Good Morning’ in response. He suddenly ran up to me, kissed me, said something about me being pretty, and then went. I stood shocked for a moment and then nervously laughed it off. I felt ashamed and guilty for the incident happening. I tormented myself on how I should have responded and what I might have done differently to prevent the man from kissing me.

Incident 2: Chaguanas
I was walking on my way to the dentist. I noticed a man walking behind me and worried that he was following me, but I brushed off the idea. I continued walking when another man, who apparently knew one of my uncles, hailed me out. I talked to him a while, and then continued on my walk. I looked behind me and realised that the man who I thought was following me was still there walking behind me. I started to get nervous, because surely he should have walked past me when I stopped to talk to the other man… but he hadn’t. I continued to walk, and reached an area where few other people were on the pavement, though cars were still driving by. The man then started shouting behind me, telling me all the sexual things he wanted to do to me. I was scared, and I sped up my walk. The dentist’s office was nearby; I was almost there. After a quick walk, I walked into the building and told the lady guard there that a man was following me and that he was waiting behind the wall around the corner. The guard then told another lady working at the office. They locked the building and the guard went to look around the corner for the man. She didn’t see him… still though, they took my claim seriously, tried to calm me down, and kept the building locked. They suggested that I call someone with a vehicle since it was perhaps dangerous to leave and walk again. I called my mom. She came and we went to the police and made a report. I was scared to walk in Chaguanas for quite some time after that happened.

Incident 3: Curepe
I went to work in a dress. Most days I wore loose pants and a top, but this day I wore a knee-length dress that showed my curves. Some men made calls, comments about how sexy I looked and how they liked me, and kiss noises much more than usual at me that day whilst I was walking on the street. I felt extremely uncomfortable, objectified and even scared… and I never wore a dress to work again.

Incident 4: Curepe
I was on my way to Chaguanas in a maxi from Curepe. I dozed off for a short while (a few minutes), and woke up to find a man stroking my thighs and he had pressed himself against me.
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…and yes, I know that men are sometimes harassed too. I’ve wondered from time to time how different I might be if I hadn’t been made to feel so uncomfortable by strangers/men making unwarranted, inappropriate comments and advances to me. I imagine that many women experience similar things. Thanks for sharing your stories in the comments.

I began this illustration with the thought that despite feeling like failure was imminent, I was going to be defiant, fight and succeed in funding my way through this PhD. I named her ‘Bear girl’. It remains unfinished, and I struggle at times in finding the fight to continue. I’m not even halfway through my first year, and often, during reflection, the task ahead feels impossible. It scares me less now, partly because a larger part of me has already resigned to failure in the event that it does happen. I knew it was a risk coming to the UK, to Cambridge, and trying. I was forewarned that the possibility of failure is high… both by people who had never taken similar risks, and by folks who have.

Yet still, I went ahead, hopeful that somehow, someway, with enough work and attempts, I’d be able to pay the way through… but imagination often fools us well beyond what reality can conjure. I still need many, many more illustration jobs, or at least one steady job of any (legal) description, to carry me through; and either of those happening feels more and more impossible as time carries on.

I had dreams of inspiring others to not give up on their dreams, through the story of succeeding in achieving my own… but reality has a way of humbling expectations. I’m scared. I blanket myself daily from this fear by trying to focus on the beautiful and what I do have, but at the back of my mind it constantly plays on that I may not have enough funds or strength to scrape by.

Perhaps though, even if I can’t encourage anyone by a brilliant success story, hopefully I’ll at least be able to do it with ‘mere’ words. As I have been telling myself a lot recently, ‘We’ll see’.

It’s Day 8 of my Christmas vacation, and we went to Clacton-on-Sea. The journey took us from Colchester to Great Clacton, toward Clacton-on-Sea. There were wind turbines in the ocean and a very strong, cold breeze was blowing.