Mille et un soleils 3/One Thousand Suns and One 3. Like a Flower

A ce moment, il se produisit une chose… Malheureusement, je ne peux m’en porter témoin véridique. Je l’aurais bien voulu, et peut-être même que, ma foi, j’aurais pu me permettre de mentir là-dessus. Après tout, même si je n’ai pas vu exactement dans quels détails la chose s’est produite – à cause de la vitesse phénoménale de l’événement – je peux tout de même dire que j’étais sur place, et si seulement j’avais prêté attention au bon moment… Donc je pourrais dire que j’ai tout vu, et celui qui me contesterait à cet égard trouverait à qui parler. Mais bon : à quoi cela servirait-il ? Le fait est que je n’ai pas vu la chose se produire au moment précis où elle se produisait, et le tout est donc pour moi comme un de ces numéros de prestidigitation dont on n’est jamais assez rapide et éveillé pour deviner le « truc » (sauf qu’ici, il n’y avait pas de « truc »).

Le fait est qu’en dépit de l’effroi que me donnait le spectacle du lézard géant, j’avais senti comme une autre présence derrière moi… Vous savez comme c’est, lorsqu’on est dans ces états d’alerte ! Et si c’était un autre monstre, qui sait… Donc, voilà, je me retournai subito presto, juste pour vérifier. Et là, je vis tous ces garçons du lac, les baigneurs, alignés là-haut, debout, tout nus, et nous observant en chuchotant entre eux. J’étais étonné du spectacle, et gardai un instant le regard fixé sur eux. Mais ne voilà-t-il pas qu’ils se mirent tous à applaudir et à faire des huées bruyantes et à gigoter – et quand je me retournai vers l’endroit où se trouvaient le crocodile et le garnement, eh bien, je ne vis plus que ce dernier en train d’échanger un regard des plus langoureux avec un oiseau rouge et bleu, qu’il tenait comme une fleur.

« Est-ce le croco ??? » m’exclamai-je, assez bêtement, je dois dire.

Sur quoi Soko déboula à mes côtés, qui se mit à me crier dessus avec une excitation vraiment excessive :

« Alors ? Alors ? Vous avez vu Nchoupa ? Vous l’avez vu ? »

« Comment ? », fis-je, lorsqu’il m’en laissa l’occasion : « C’est ce petit mec…

euh… bon lanceur de poids

et un peu magicien, apparemment, mais… là…. » (Je tâchai d’exprimer ma déception, sans tout à fait savoir quoi penser en fait.)

« Non ! Regardez ! Regardez ! », fit Soko avec impatience.

Then something happened… Unfortunately, I cannot claim that I am a truthful witness of that event. I very much wish I could, and well, I might be entitled to lie on the whole business. After all, even though I did not see in what exact details the thing occurred – due to the extraordinary speed of the event – I can still affirm that I was there, and if only I had looked on at the right moment… So, I might claim that I’d seen it all happening, and he who would dare contradict would soon find reasons to regret it. But what the trouble for? The fact is, I didn’t see it happening at the precise moment it happened, and the whole thing is therefore for me like those prestidigitation tricks that we are never sufficiently quick-minded and attentive to debunk (but there was nothing to debunk in that event anyway).

The fact is, in spite of the terror I was feeling before the giant lizard, I had felt something else behind me… You know how it is, when one is in those states of vigilance! And what if there was another monster, who knows…

So there, I looked back quick and fast, just to check. And there, I saw all the boys of the lake, the bathers, standing in line, stark naked and watching us while whispering amongst themselves. I was a bit taken by the show, and looked at them for a short while. Upon what, they started to clap, to jeer noisily, to push and shove – and when I turned my attentions back to where the crocodile and the brat stood, well, I saw nothing else but the brat, who was now exchanging a languid stare with a little red and blue bird, which he held in his hand as if it were a flower.

“Is that the croco???” I yelled, rather idiotically,

I must say.

And then here was Soko at my side, who started shouting at me with a rather unnecessary agitation:

“So! So ! Have you seen Nchupa ? Have you ?.

“What ?” said I, when he let me speak : “Is it that youngin… huh… a good weight thrower and a bit of a magician, it looks like, but… well…” (I was trying to express my disappointment, but didn’t know what to think in fact.)

“No! Look! Look !”, said Soko, impatiently.

Mille et un soleils 2/One Thousand Suns and One 2. Lézard Géant

Là-dessus, Soko (j’avais entendu une personne qui passait l’appeler ainsi) se redressa de tout son long et me demanda si j’étais d’accord.

« Que vous me montriez cette chose, être, entité ? Certainement, car de toute façon… »

Je me tus car il mit un doigt sur sa bouche et fit soudain une drôle de tête, comme s’il écoutait quelqu’un d’autre en train de lui parler. Tout concentré, tout ouïes. Je supposai que c’était sa manière histrionesque de refléchir, ou de paraître refléchir.

Mais j’entendis aussi, finalement, car un silence progressif s’installait, et ce bruit nouveau agissait comme une ombre qui couvrait un terrain jonché d’étincelantes particules. Je l’entendais mieux parce qu’il tuait tout autre bruit. Les garçons se turent un à un, et même les oiseaux, les insectes. Seul le lac respirait, comme la brise caressait son corps lustré.

Le nouveau était curieux, un bruit produit par quelque chose de lourd et de lent, oui, lourd, lent, mais aussi, puissant, si puissant que c’en était – terrifiant. Je n’avais pas vu ce qui faisait ce bruit sourd et lourd, mais je savais d’instinct que c’était quelque chose qui intimait respect et épouvante. Autour de nous, certains s’éloignaient lentement à reculons, et ceux qui ne bougeaient pas avaient pris l’immobilité de morceaux de bois mort.

Je sursautai. Venait de bondir devant moi un garçon qui dansait en tenant l’image sculptée d’un crocodile pourvu d’un majestueux phallus. C’était fort inattendu, et je ne pus m’empêcher d’éclater de rire. Soko se tourna vers moi, la bouche grand ouverte, tandis que la danse du garçon au crocodile devenait de plus en plus endiablée. Il lança la statuette de saurien bien haut dans le ciel.

Elle partit comme une vrille, et retomba très, très loin, vraiment très loin. Au beau milieu du lac en fait. Cela me coupa toute envie de rire. Voilà ce à quoi je pensai, naturellement, en seulement cinq secondes, et sans autant de mots : « Si cette statue est partie aussi haut et est retombée en produisant un aussi puissant éclaboussis au milieu du lac, c’est qu’il doit être bien lourd ; si un garçon d’apparence aussi frêle a pu le projeter aussi loin et aussi puissamment, c’est qu’il s’agit, ma foi, d’un démon ! »

Mais le garçon dévalait le chemin caillouteux de la berge, et sans penser à ce que je faisais, je le suivis. C’était tout à fait irrésistible. D’ailleurs personne ne pensa à me retenir. Puis je vis le garçon accroupi à côté d’une espèce de monticule vert et gris, dont le haut, cependant, se releva, dont le bas se mut lentement, avec ce bruit là, ce fameux bruit, et je reconnus un lézard gigantesque, un crocodile qui devait peser, par là, cinq tonnes au bas mot, et dont la gueule s’ouvrit démesurément, s’apprêtant selon toute vraisemblance à croquer d’une bouchée l’imprudent garnement qui était allé lui titiller les naseaux. J’étais fort pressé de voir cette horreur se produire. Tout bonnement : « s’il le bouffe, il ne pourra pas me bouffer ! » Voilà ce que je pensai, ne me sentant pas hors de portée, d’autant que mes

jambes s’étaient refroidies totalement.

After which Soko (someone passing by just called him that) stood up hovering and asked if it was okay.“Okay to show me that thing, being, entity? Well, yes, since at any rate..."

I stopped talking, because he put a finger on his lips and looked suddenly quite weird, as if someone was whispering weird things to him. Very focused and attentive. To me, that was perhaps his histrionic way of thinking, or at least of looking as if he was thinking.

But finally, I heard it, because silence was gradually settling, and that new noise was feeling like a shadow swallowing a field lit with bright little bits. I could hear it better because it was killing all other noise. The boys, one by one, fell silent, and even birds and bugs. Only the lake breathed, as the breeze stroke its lustrous body.

The new sound was strange, a noise made by something bulky and slow, yes, bulky, sluggish, but also great, so great that it was – chilling. I hadn’t seen what was making that subdued, heavy sound, but I instinctively knew it was something which commanded respect and scare. Around us, some were slowly stepping back, and those who did not move took on the freeze of dead wood.

I was startled. In came leaping a boy who danced while holding high the sculpted image of a crocodile endowed with a glorious phallus. That was so unexpected that I went into a loud laughter. Soko looked at me, gaping, while the dancing of the crocodile boy turned wilder and wilder. He threw the saurian figurine high upward. It went like a gimlet, and fell down spinning very, very far, really too far. In the middle of the lake in fact. That did it for my laughter. Here’s what I thought, obviously in five seconds, and without so many words : “if that statue’s gone so high and fell down with such a huge splash in the middle of the lake, then it’s quite heavy ; and if that frail juvenile managed to throw it so far and powerfully, then I’d bet he’s some kind of demon.”

But said juvenile was now running down the cobbled path to the low bank of the lake, and, without thinking, I followed him. Unstoppable impulse. No one thought of holding me back anyway. Then I saw the boy squatting next to some sort of low mound, all green and gray, which, however, lifted its upper part, and whose lower part moved, with that sound, and I recognized a giant lizard, a crocodile who could weigh, oh, easily five tons minimum, and whose mouth opened wide, getting clearly ready to chomp on the careless brat who went and picked his nose. I was rather keen on beholding the horrific event. Well, to put it fair and square: “if he eats him, he won’t eat me!”, that’s what I thought, seeing that I wasn’t far from a strike and my legs had grown cold completely.

Mille et un soleils 1/One Thousand Suns and One 1. Nchoupa

« Comment? Nooon? Vous

connaissez pas Nchoupa? »

Me parlait ainsi un échalas en blanc qui sentait le beurre de karité. On s’était vu au bord du lac. Le lac aux eaux si gonflées et lumineuses que parfois, on avait l’impression qu’il abritait le soleil – que ce que nous voyions dans le haut ciel était le reflet de l’astre aquatique qui nimbait son humide étendue de ces grands chatoiements. L’air était frais et clair, et les voix des garçons, entrelacées aux pépiements d’oiseaux aussi bavards, faisaient une musique joyeuse et rapide comme le ve

nt qui soufflait sur le lac. Et dans ces bruits, j’entendais souvent et toujours « Nchoupa ! » J’avais l’impression que même les oiseaux, en fait, n’arrêtaient pas : « Nchoupa --- chirrr --- Nchoupa --- chirrr… »

« Je vous assure », dis-je à l’échalas, le plus poliment du monde. « Je connais bien du monde dans bien de pays. Mais ce nom, Nchoupa, non, jamais je ne l’ai entendu. A vrai dire, je ne sais même pas ce qui s’appelle ainsi ? Est-ce une personne de sexe mâle, ou

de sexe femelle ? Est-ce une ville, un chien, un caillou ? »

L’échalas se gondola :

« Mais ! Mais les cailloux n’ont pas de nom ! »

Stupéfait par cette affirmation incongrue, je le regardai b

ien en face, et répondis (tout en gardant tout mon calme, comme vous pouvez vous y attendre) :

« Monsieur mon ami. Il y a des choses que je vous conterai bientôt, et vous jugerez par vous-même. En attendant, je vous demande tout simplement de répondre à ma question relative à Nchoupa. On dirait que c’est la divinité de ce lac, et je voudrais, si tel est le cas, lui rendre mes devoirs. Si ce n’est pas le cas, ma curiosité en serait d’autant plus fondée. »

« Oh ! » répondit l’échalas avec un franc sourire. « Je

vous montrerai Nchoupa. C’est encore mieux. »

“What the deuce? Well, okay, no, that I can’t believe, I mean that you don’t know him Nchupa? Nooo!”

There I was, listening to that elongated boy in white clothing who disseminated around him the scent of shea butter. We met on the bank of the lake. The lake with its powerful, glistening waters, which gave out the impression of holding the sun in hidden caves – so much so that what we were seeing high in the sky was in fact only a reflection of the watery star which suffused its humid expanses with immense glitters. The air was cool and clear, and the voices of boys, sprinkled with the songs of babbling birds – as babbling as them boys – was creating a kind of joyful and speedy music, very much akin to the breeze which was sweeping over the lake. And the noise that was thus turned out often and always reverberated with that “Nchupa!” I was under the impression that even the birds, in fact, were ceaselessly chirping “Nchupa --- chirrr--- Nchupa --- chirrr …”

“I assure you”, said I to the elongated lad, and this, most politely, “I know plenty of people in plenty of lands. But that name, Nchupa, it never hit my ears, no. Truth is, I can’t even imagine what bears that name. Is it a person, male or female? Or maybe a town, a dog, a pebble?

Lanky lad was smashed with laughter:

“How do you think a pebble got a name?”

Taken aback by the incongruity of his remark, I looked him right in the eye and retorted (while, as you may well suppose, keeping the utmost self-control):

“Dear my friend. There are things that I will shortly narrate to you, and then you will judge by yourself. Meanwhile, I quite simply ask you to respond to my question about Nchupa. One would think it is the divinity of this lake, and if so, then I would like to perform my duties. But if not, my curiosity is all the more justified.”

“Oh,” Elongated Lad uttered, grinning. “Let me show you Nchupa. That would be best!”

The Wounded Warrior

Apparently, the health condition of Orokie is stabilising, and he is doing drawings again. He just sent me this one, "The Wounded Warrior":



In a hand written note accompanying the drawing, he is saying:

"Bonjour,
Help this wounded warrior to recover sight and health by passing on him sweet and positive vibrations,
Amen"

He has gone to his homeland for a few months to rest and repair his health, and should get surgical operation in December in Europe.

***

La santé d'Orokie semble s'être stabilisée, et il a recommencé à dessiner. Il vient de m'envoyer ce dessin, intitulé "Le guerrier blessé", avec une note disant:

"Bonjour,
Aidez ce guerrier blessé à recouvrer vision et santé en lui passant de douces et positives vibrations,
Amen"

Il est parti recharger ses batteries sur les bords du Lac Victoria, et devrait subir en décembre une opération en Europe.

Repair my spiritual engine:

Hope

When Orokie e-mailed me 3 week ago (see post below ), this is what he sent me :

There is a last piece, yes, unfinished, and now you know why, that I began early this year at trying to make a fine piece that you could show to visitors and family guests. A suitable-for-minors piece, in the likes and style of old illustrations that artist did in exchange of a small metal coin for their Vatican Masters or Kings. As with most of all that stuff, it may show some aggession, call it violence, that I hope would not damage any pure mind brought up in dear Western Culture, where the good always defeats the bad - in school books illustrations at least - Even unfinished, I hope you will enjoy it and put it on any decent wall at your home. Even in one bathroom, why not? We are always to visit that room a few times a day. And properly placed, it may even show out the strength of my A+ on the mirror while you shave.


This is not just coming like this. Saint George, the birthday of Orokie, the Good fighting the Bad.

Orokie was doubting if the good would always defeat the bad...

His friends tried to help his mind getting positive, because "Yes, You Can !!"

Gradually, strength came, and 3 days ago I got :

Thanks, Bonjour. I was dancing pencil for you. Yes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Bonjour.jpg !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



Na Waoooo !!

Orokie fights again !!

Yesterday morning, he had appointment with his doctors, and here are the latest news :

Ophthalmologist was very happy and accepted my thesis that he shall be strong in his spirit, trust himself as the best Ophthalmologist and start helping his patients and do his job superbly good, also to help me.

Damaged optic nerve goes degenerating badly
but
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
at slower speed than before and
slower speed than Ophthalmologist wrote during last visit.

I am gaining extra time by being positive and strong in my spirit with the help of my friends

Thanks to all

I am fine and positive

Be good
Stay well

So, we all hope that Orokie will soon be OK,

Stay well, be good

Mark / a friend of Orokie

Heart breaking news - Orokie deeply needs help

My name is Marc. Since ten years now, I am a friend of Orokie. 2 weeks ago, I received a mail from him. He told me the worst thing I could have ever imagined.
Orokie is badly needing our urgent help...

Let's first remember what happened :

In april 2006, Orokie went to Kenya to see his mother, who lives on an island of Lake Victoria. At that time, he disappeared, and during one and a half year we had no news from him.

A few days ago, here is how he explained me what happened :

quote

"I went to greet my mama.
It was some years ago, I was in Kenya, and the transport bus was taken by thugs who had booked as passengers, they picked guns from their bags and told the driver to go off the road.
We ended up in a clear in a forest where more armed thugs were ready to get all of the valuables. They even used dogs (Police!) trained to sniff banknotes hidden in socks, mama's bra, underwear... and soon we were all naked.
Some thugs got the ladies aside...
Maybe my attitude was not humble enough so they beated me badly and wounded me with machetes....
Traditional healer first, and later, medical doctors helped me...
I spent many many weeks unable to walk... Some friends made a fund raising after me and I came back to Barcelona where Hospital surgeries and cares made a wonderful work and later I was again able to walk on my own feet.
But from time to time the insides complain and also both the wounds and surgery scars ache in certain days.

Since those days my right eye can not see."

unquote

End of 2007 he re-appeared, and during a few months life seemed to be good with him, till the time, after the elections, troubles arose in Kenya, where is mother, brothers and friends are living.

He was very worried, sent all the money he could get to help his family an friends, then, as always when he feels bad, disappeared again for several months.

At Christmas 2008, he wrote about his deep depression:



quote

"The same as before yesterday. Nothing new. Just me plus papers and ink.

Mind was down down down after last year elections. Something is missing, like hope in the once much trusted politicians and leaders. That is why I keep a little small hope about my future.
Jobs are scarce and wanted by many in this period of economical struggle. Just twice I got the finals but was not elected for the post. Better people got the jobs.

Body is fine.
Physiotherapist did, does and will keep doing a great job all over my body."

When suffering bad breakdown, depressive shyness made me isolated from the outside world. Then, it was hard to make the first step".

unquote

End of February 2009, again, he disappeared.

Two weeks ago, he wrote me a message I would have preferred never to receive:

quote

With me, thanks to the gods of Love, I keep struggling with my faulty physical health, yet alive, and (keep it secret), wonderfully able to produce sperm plenty the minute full moon appears on dark sky in the night.

Faulty physical health. It all is inside.

Some say because after being badly wounded that day by thugs, the good will doctors that were to help me, sadly, when it was quite late, they could not complete their aimed fair job, leaving potencial risks, yes, that now come and gone without previous notice.

Some say even my mind may be confused, never able to persist on the scheduled recovery plan.

Maybe. May be sometimes I have given up.

But now the gods of love call me back into struggle, and I fight my body for a higher level of decent health.

When tears flowed non stop, like waters from snowy mountain, I thought it was my spirit continually thanking you for your beautiful help (thanks merçi).

Tears kept flowing like waters from a snowy mountain, and Ophthalmologist did his plumber job, by clearing the obstructed drainage channels in my eyes by using what it seemed to me a thin peace of copper line from one computer cable.

That day Ophthalmologist went on proceeding with further checkings. He seemed to enjoy very much when he began using all of his Ophthalmological tools and artifacts on me.

Then to afterwards show me a picture on his computer flat screen. Wow! It lloked like a Nasa photograph of mighty Sun. So orange bright.
But it was my left eye.

- See? Optical nerve is very damaged.

- Glaucoma Horribilis?
(My late Baba suffered from Glaucoma Horribilis since early age).

- Not sure.There are not specific clues yet.
He did not mention any high level of inner pressure in that eye...

But on next check, Ophthalmologist confirmed my optical nerve was even worse than before.
He mentioned "sheer forces" as the cause of such a horrible deterioration of the optical nerve.

"Sheer forces". Not bad a theme to wonder about in the dark of the night.

Yet my path is clear. It is just a matter of a few weeks time.

I will be needing very soon either "une canne blanche et un chien formé (European Union), ou un garçon qui me guide de la main (Homeland)" (a white cane and a formed dog (European Union), or a boy who guides me by the hand (homeland)).

I am not able to dance ink on paper anymore.
Well, I have tried, but even me I can not understand, neither clearly see the traces.

It has been hard for me to accept Ophthalmoligist's veredict but I had to submit, after spending my last coins on Barcelona most fantabolous, fashionable and private ophthalmologic clinic.

So that in the end I behaved Western Culture boy using my remaining banknotes in search of hope.
But it showed as those lotteries where plenty of unsuccessful people keep spending their few coins.

Now that I am fine with me, peaceful again and ready to spend my last hours of dim light in whatever good actions I am able to do.

With me it is fine.
The only thing it is now my million shilling coins question: Would me see Victoria Lake Sunset again?

Well, it does not hurt me anymore.
I told you.
I have summited, surrended and am ready to face the neverending darkness of night even, oddly enough, when it is day time.

Cause Sun would warm me the same as before, be it under European Union social care or (my prayers) telling stories under a large tree at homeland, next market, entertaining people and also, as coins would be dropped from time to time in the metal tin by my feet, earning my maize, with the precious sound of solidarity singing loudly in my ears.
Maize that mama would cook for me whith immense love, and also, sometimes, may be adding a piece of fresh proteine from our lake or from her well kept poultry hens.

Please understand.
I had to wait for peaceness of mind before being able to talk to you, cause I wanted to tell in sweet mode, with love from my spirit singing these words."

unquote

Today news are not encouraging, and apparently his optical nerve is not improving.

We cannot abandon such a wonderful man, so brilliant and generous. Please help him.

We have put on-line on his site some drawings for sale, and you can make some donation too.

Please note that since 2008 the former blog's editor is no more in charge of this blog.

We seize this opportunity to thank him for the time he spent, and wish him good luck for his future.

The art of the cartoon 10:

O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag—
It's so elegant
So intelligent
'What shall I do now? What shall I do?'
'I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street
'With my hair down, so. What shall we do to-morrow?
'What shall we ever do?'

The hot water at ten.
And if it rains, a closed car at four.
And we shall play a game of chess,
Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.

T.S.Eliot.

0 0 0 0 that Orokianian beat--

It's so erotic

So democratic

"What shall I do now? What shall I do?"

I shall rush naked and swim the lake

With my shorts down so. And tomorrow? And tomorrow!

What shall we ever do?"

Tea with milk before we sleep.

And if the moon is full, a game all night.

Yes, we shall play a game of chess,

Riding the night and all the stars whilst listening for a knock upon the door.

Art of the cartoon 9:

Art of the cartoon 8:

Closing of this blog.

Since this blog was opened in December 2007 many people have visited it. Approximately, 21, 000 have passed through Orokie's blogs; 66% of these, however, have selected to look at blogger. Some have been kind enough to leave comments, all of which have made valuable reading and shown the range of readers attracted by Orokie's art. Readers have come from 800 cities across the world. Thank you to all those people who took the time to view Orokie's art. Among the many, there are some who deserve special mention. These are the readers who come daily to Orokie's blog, sometimes more than twice a day, to read, or see if there is any news of Orokie. Sadly, there is no news of Orokie. I have tried to contact his so-called close friends, but they have been of no help whatsoever, more concerned with what Orokie might do for them (as an artist) than what they might do for him (as a human being). There seems little point in carrying on with this blog. I did ask for news of Orokie (on this blog) but there was not a single reply. I fail to believe that out of the many who come to this site no one knows what this silence means. The blog will stay open for the next 72 hours, then it will be deleted. Some older posts have been re-posted in their original place, to give a final, fuller view of Orokie's work.

The art of the cartoon 7:

The art of the cartoon 6:

Quiero que el aire fuerte de las noche mas honda
quite flores y letras del arco donde duermes,
y un nino negro anuncie a los blancos del oro
la llegada del reino de la espiga.

The art of the cartoon 5:

The art of the cartoon 4:

The art of the cartoon 3:

The art of the cartoon 2:

The art of the cartoon 1:

Black Art.

Back in June, this installation caused a stir in the US. (Strangely, this was its second showing, but suddenly it became a security threat). Lots of views raged around the installation. Was it art? Should art be political? Was this abusing free speech? Was the closing of the installation censorship? But what does this image actually say?

Running along the side of the wall there are two hard black penises. They point, like arrows, a visual joke, towards a sign:

ONCE YOU GO BARACK.

Of course, this puns on the sexual saying “Once you go black, you never turn back.” Black is replaced by Barack. Barack becomes the word Black…becomes the sexual fetish. The imagery is pure Mapplethorpe as are the sentiments expressed. Black political power is sexual power. Sexual power is the Black man's attraction to voters. The installation claims the same thought as Mapplethorpe’s work. It uncovers the Black male. Exposes him. Reduces a human individual to common basics: a hard, erect thug.

This imagery caused offence. Yet, it is exactly the imagery which sells today. The thug stereotype pulls in punters across the internet. The Black male figure is de-sensitised. In recent months, this had come to concern Orokie. He saw sex used as a weapon in Kenya. He saw sexual thuggery at work. (He painted his feelings in images he wished to keep private because he felt the hurt intensely). He could see how looking at the Black male as a thug also involved the viewer in visual thuggery. The sexual gaze is not innocent. How we see and look at others does matter. In his art, Orokie seeks different vision, a humanising vision. The messages sent by art must be responsible. This is not an act of puritanism, rather an act of respect for the male body, spirit and soul.

Orokie: Blue Period.

Icarus

Western version

African version.