Can a piece of writing paint the world and evoke colourful feelings in the reader’s mind and put a glow in their heart? Well, using powerful and beautiful extracts, we will demonstrate how a writer is an artist who is not different from a painter because of his or her ability and facility to create mental and picturesque worlds through the stroke of their pen. The art and finesse of effective writing enables the reader to bask in the warmth of the beautiful sights and hues beautifully captured by the writer, the master painter of words and master of descriptions! …
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“After a sumptuous breakfast from our local host-family, we were keen and ready for our first official rainforest walk. In the dining hall (also used for discussions and briefings) our local guide handed me ugly brown socks that would be my saviours (though not a 100 per cent guarantee) from the leeches, reminding everyone this was not a tourist resort. We needed to take care of our own belongings and ensure we kept electronic equipment dry. Three hours later, returning from the trek, I felt bubbles of amazement and wonder rising. I’d seen gliding lizards fly effortlessly between trees, intricate dragonflies of infinite varieties and delicately etched, golden frogs. The overcast sky, saturated to the brim, had poured down heavily, drenching the forest, its native creatures, and the handful of humans who happened to be there.
Thereafter began the frenzy of activities and sounds that engulfs the woods after a good rain – rhythmic sounds, musical, coordinated and orchestrated, and pleasantly deafening. Ah! My brimming heart and soothed soul enjoyed restful sleep in the tent that first night. Bonfires and loud music are prohibited to avoid any disturbance to animals and hygienic common bathrooms (with hot-water facilities) were appreciated. Everyone was expected to wash their own plates and glasses after every meal.
We were encouraged to separate organic waste into the respective dustbins before retiring each night. All inorganic waste went back with you. Next morning revealed a forest blooming with fungi – a fairy-tale landscape of frilled coral cups, delicate saucers and robust yellow umbrellas. And if that brightly coloured confectionery wasn’t enough, a magnificent azure-coloured sphere, hard as shell, caught our eye. No amount of speculation could have made me imagine that the little blue ball was a millipede! We observed at a respectful distance, reminded that handling, agitating, or disturbing any wildlife is not permitted and will warrant strict action. Collection of any kind of flora or fauna is forbidden.”
Have you experienced the pulse, the heart-beat of the writing, as it were! I think, you have seen how the writer uses words and beautiful images to detail to us his exposure to the broad countryside where he learned to re-look at snakes and reptiles anew. Have you seen the way he describes his excitement and euphoria, using phrases such as “bubbles of excitement.” There is no doubt, that you have enjoyed the seemingly surreal description of the scintillating, peaceful and lively environment and its diverse bio-diversity painted graphically with the power of the pen. Did you ‘hear’ the beautiful sounds of the diverse species and how soothing it was to the narrator in the story? I am sure that this also has struck a responsive chord in the heart of the reader- and that is the power of art and using words to paint worlds and to capture emotions.
Let’s try another excerpt to drive home the point again.
“My husband, Sam, started training in January for Ironman Canada at the end of July. He got himself an expert coach and monthly training plans. I felt reassured this meant he might at least survive the 3.86 km swim, a 180.25 km bicycle ride and a marathon (42.20 km) run, raced in that order. His training ramped up as you’d expect. Initially, it didn’t really impact our lives too much. If anything, it was a good thing. Now, we were both training for things – it felt like a real partnership as we plotted our weekends to give us time to train and time together as a family. It was fun. If we went away, we had to fit his bike ride of 1–3 hours into the weekend but that was totally do-able. We’ve a pool where we live which really helped – not having to drive to/from water at least saved travelling time.
By May he was training early and most of both weekend mornings. Being honest, I resented that. I agreed sullenly, yes, I still wanted him to do the Ironman, and no, I didn’t expect him to drop out. I was just fed up with his absences. June was all about Ironman. Endless weekends with Sam gone until 5pm each day. After exercise he would need to sleep for an hour or so, thus he was technically gone for longer. I was desperate for us to go away and have a break from it. I tried to book a weekend camping but abandoned it. We would have spent the whole time fitting Sam’s training around what we were doing, and it wasn’t worth it. That year the kids didn’t go camping at all.
My own freedom to run was curtailed. Saturdays became all about childcare. I only managed one Saturday trail-run with the girls from April onwards and that was thanks to wonderful friends who got up at 6.45 on a Saturday to watch my son. I got fed up with not being able to say yes to invitations. We didn’t do any family hiking for months. Sam justifiably didn’t want to hike after exercising.
There was so much laundry (‘different road conditions’) so much extra food (‘fuel’) and so much gear (multiple pairs of goggles with different tints ‘because you never know’)! Smiling understandingly, Sam assured me the next one will be cheaper. Next one? ‘Because it’s there,’ I’d snarl to anyone who dared question why any sane mortal would tackle an Ironman. I enjoyed mercilessly shaming his less-than-supportive business partner into recognising the potentially boundless benefits of Sam’s well-publicised adventure for their newly-established, fledgling travel company.
A flurry of online articles described me as ‘a runner married to a triathlete’ – it took me a few moments to recognise our family and beam with immeasurable pride. Our son missed having Dad around at the weekends, especially if he woke up after Sam had left to train on a Saturday when sometimes there were tears. But he got used to the different dynamic. He was given an ‘Ironman’ superhero toy as a birthday gift by some relatives and immediately started making it swim, bike and run! The poor child thinks that this is how normal families operate.
Having said all that, watching Sam emerge god-like from the water, power past us on his bike and rocket down the finishing chute, head held high as our kids cheered with the crowd – utterly incredible and intoxicating, one of life’s rare pinnacles of perfection. It had been an epic journey for all of us. I’m so glad we did it. And next year? Well yes, it’s my turn.”
How did you enjoy the twist in the narrative! Did you enjoy the intensity and the beauty of emotions painted? How about the beautiful gush of adrenaline as the writer wonderfully paints the world of competitive sports in which her husband emerged as a powerful ironman! The rigorous and grueling exercise is put side-by-side, as it were, with the amazing sentiments of triumph. Sam emerges from the competition as a larger-than-life character.
Here were are! A writer is a painter of worlds. He or she also make us feel a glow inside, as it were. A good writer ignites the embers which lie at the deep recesses of our hearts and make us feel a glow inside.
Vuso Mhlanga teaches at the University of Zimbabwe. For almost a decade and half he taught English language and Literature in English at high school. Send your comments and questions to: mhlangavuso85@gmail.com
