maskulinum<\/a>.<\/p>\nI try some small talk, asking her what she does in Dublin. Her name’s Ashika. She’s a psychologist. Specialising in children. I notice that she’s being very polite with me. “Uh,” I say, “if my chit chat is bothering you, just let me know, and I’ll try and hold myself back from talking to you. Would you like me to shut up?”<\/p>\n
She looks at me. One beat. A second beat. “Yes please,” she says.<\/p>\n
“Done,” I say.<\/p>\n
But I can’t stop glancing over at her. And she’s totally aware of this. So I decide to do an airplane sketch. I struggle to reach my cargo pants pocket in the cramped seat, but eventually get my palmtop out. I run my sketching software, and start drawing.<\/p>\n
![\"The](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/mysite.mweb.co.za\/residents\/rb000004\/Ashika.jpg?resize=200%2C266\")
Of course, she notices instantly, and closes the book just as I get the curve of her nose down. “What are you doing?” she asks. She’s not angry. Just a little wild.<\/p>\n
“Drawing you,” I say, and show her the screen.<\/p>\n
“Isn’t it customary to ASK permission before you draw someone?”<\/p>\n
“I normally don’t ask. Would you like me to ask?”<\/p>\n
She glares at me, but her eyes are sparkling, and she can’t hide a smile.<\/p>\n
“May I draw you?” I ask, sketching another line.<\/p>\n
“Okay,” she says.<\/p>\n
“Read your book,” I say. “I need your profile.”<\/p>\n
I notice some activity in the seat beside me. Ntobeko is conferring with Shaft. I glance at them. They both give me a hubba hubba thumbs up. They’re impressed with my spadework.<\/p>\n
I keep drawing, then start doing the colour. That’s always time-consuming. It normally takes me a good thirty minutes to do a detailed colour portrait. The ‘fasten your seatbelt’ sign pings on, and the captain announces that we’re preparing to land. Technically, I’m supposed to stop using electronic equipment when this happens.<\/p>\n
But I figure a palmtop is just like a watch, and I’m fighting against time here. This will only serve as spadework if I can actually finish the drawing. So I keep sketching, and ask Ntobeko to warn me when the stewards are approaching.<\/p>\n
He nudges me. I hold the machine face down, and hope they can’t see the glow. They see nothing. I keep colouring Ashika’s picture.<\/p>\n
“Here,” I say, just as we start the final descent.<\/p>\n
“Isn’t that supposed to make me look beautiful?” Ashika asks.<\/p>\n
“Oh, I can’t make you look more beautiful than you actually are,” I say.<\/p>\n
I show Shaft and Ntobeko the pic, and they give me big thumbs up signs.<\/p>\n
Then I hand Ashika my business card and say, “I’ll email it to you if you send me your email address when you get back to Ireland.”<\/p>\n
“I’d like that,” she says.<\/p>\n
![\"Shaft](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/mysite.mweb.co.za\/residents\/rb000004\/Shaft.jpg?resize=200%2C266\")
My crew and I are flying back from our two-day visit to Pietermaritzburg. I’m heavily sunburnt on my arms and neck. Ntobeko, our camera-dude is sitting on my left. Across the aisle, to his left, is Shaft, our director. Musa, the sound-fellow, is sitting behind shaft. I’m the producer.<\/p>\n