Living Vicariously As A Peripatetic Shutterbug

{ More musings from the Cantankerous Old Mule }

Of objets d’art and their owners

My journalist-sister taught me a valuable lesson when meeting new people, or when something significant has happened in someone’s life: ask lots of questions. Listen, and then ask even more questions. It used to irritate both my brother and me, but I have realised since then that it is much more valuable to listen than to speak. With that little nugget of wisdom dealt with, let me get down to my blogpost.

It’s not often that I walk into a home and immediately want to reach for my camera. But that happened a few weekends back when an elderly couple from church invited me to lunch at their home.

My immediate reaction was to photograph everything – the amazing West African objets d’art that had clearly taken many years to collect.

But once I started chatting to the couple I realised that they and their story were more interesting than their home could ever be. He is Malagasy, while she has a Franco-Vietnamese background. She met her husband after coming to this country in the 1960s with her stepfather, who was advising the post-independence government. Her beau admitted that the best thing he got from university was having met her.

Soon after marrying, their lives took off in a direction neither could have imagined. He was a runner – specialising in the 100m. The fastest sprinter Madagascar had ever seen. He was short, wiry and lightning-fast: this was the 1960s, where raw speed and talent was the order of the day.

One day he was invited to compete in an international meeting on the island, his talent was recognised, and he was offered the chance to run and study in the USA. This eventually led him to a college in California, during which time he competed in numerous national athletics finals, three Olympic Games and won a world indoor title. At his final Olympics, where he was at his peak and ranked the second-fastest 100m athlete in the world, he pulled a hamstring in the semi-finals and was eliminated.

Asked what he felt about seeing his dream of being Olympic champion die, at the final hurdle (to mix a running metaphor), he simply shrugged. “These things happen. It’s in the past. I lived a good life, and there are many better things I can talk about.”

One achievement which stands out, above even the Olympics, was at a small race called the “Stawell Gift” in Australia. Athletes are staggered at the start line according to their times – with the faster runners starting behind the slower ones. On a boggy, wet track (which rose 90cm over the distance) in 1975 he ran the 120m in 12 seconds dead, scorching past the other runners in the final few metres. In 2006, at the 125th anniversary of the running of the event, his run was voted the best in its history.

I could hear sadness in their voices, though, when they spoke about how all the mementoes from that part of their lives – the trophies, videos, photos and newspaper clippings – had been stolen in a house burglary in the 1970s. With no physical reminders, apart from the scraps one can find on the Internet, they really do only have their memories.

We talked about life after athletics; about many years in Africa where he worked for an international organisation in finance and economics; about their children, their grandchildren and their life back home in Madagascar. We spoke about her roots, and a trip she took back to Vietnam with her sisters. We spoke over drinks, over dinner, dessert and coffee but one afternoon is way too short to truly know people.

One thing that struck me throughout the afternoon was their humility, grace and dignity: It’s not often one gets to see the simple contentment of a life lived well. I left with photos of much beauty, but a glimpse into two special lives and a reminder to listen to people’s stories – whether exciting or seemingly mundane – is what the afternoon was really about.


5 comments on “Of objets d’art and their owners

  1. Geraldine
    April 22, 2015

    Wow, I can understand why you couldn’t stop taking pics … what an amazing home! What about pics of them?

  2. Elaine
    April 22, 2015

    Exactly! I would have loved to see portraits of them. I’m sure their lives are etched in their faces. What a privilege to have met people like that and for them to have shared so much of themselves with you.

  3. finkelstein
    April 22, 2015

    Although I like the pictures you’ve taken of their beautiful home, their story is the star of this post. You should add portraits if that’s okay by them!

  4. Robin
    April 22, 2015

    I didn’t actually take any photos of them, so you will just have to imagine what they look like. 🙂

  5. derekmidgley
    April 26, 2015

    Wow, what a story!

Comments are closed.


This entry was posted on April 22, 2015 by in Real Life, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , .
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