Aisha Saidi

I've been giving my big project a bit of thought, and I feel like I need to decide whether I would be making a fully illustrated book or just character design sheets & 3/4 illustrations. Because if I was making a book think I it would be wise to start illustrating one story first instead of 3. 

At the moment I am really interested in illustrating Aisha Saidi's story (article below, written by Lauren Bohn. full article here). The only problem is that there aren't much references, in terms of imagery that I can look at except of those photographs in the article. I think it would be a good idea to maybe contact Lauren and ask if she'd be willing to help me out - if she'd share more photos and stories with me (if available). Lauren is also the co-founder of SchoolCycle (a global giving campaign that launched on #GivingTuesday (December 2) to raise money for the United Nations Joint Program on Adolescent Girls in Malawi to provide bikes for girls) so she might actually be willing to help me out since I'll be illustrating her story and also raising awareness of her campaign.

There are actually a couple of reasons why I want to illustrate Aisha's story:

1. as mentioned in previous post, this story is set in Malawi, Africa - I think this itself is a good challenge me as I have never drawn anything that is set anywhere near the african continent. New faces, to practice my character design. New scenery, to practice my environments/backgrounds. As well as helping me to build a children's illustration portfolio, this will also help me to improve skills I need to be a Visual Development artist in the Animation industry (which is my ultimate goal).
2. As well as her determination and caring personality, what piqued my interest the most in Aisha's story is her purple jelly shoes, which are her only pair and are slowly falling apart. She can't afford new ones but Instead of getting upset, she said, she used the all too familiar sense of disappointment as inspiration to train even harder. I thought this would make her character quite distinct/easily recognisable for children.

Aisha Saidi says she never thought she'd own a bike. In Yao, her local language, there is a special word for the joy and luck she says she has now found herself in. "We call it zikuxenda," she says. "It means that things are looking up for you. I'm now on the right path. I hope it lasts."

As a young girl, Aisha says she has always struggled living in a society where girls are second-class citizens. "You always wonder if you can make it," she says. "You always wonder if you'll be enough."

When she got a scholarship to attend secondary school, most people back in her small village of Mchochola didn't take her seriously.

"They're waiting for me to drop out and become pregnant or get married like everyone else," she says. "Education isn't taken seriously for girls." While her parents are supportive of her education, they wouldn't be upset if she dropped out to marry. It's just the norm, she says.

Aisha says she has lost many friends back home who now gossip about her. She knows they're probably just jealous, but still, it hurts. "They say now I'm too good for them … or that I think I'm special," she says. "But we're all special. We just don't always get the chance."

During her first week of school, Aisha walked 45 minutes to and from her village. But she was exhausted and her grades dipped significantly, so Niyasulu offered her an old thin mattress in the school's makeshift hostel. At night, they all huddle together to keep themselves warm, alternating use of the few pillows.

The other girls — "the hostel girls," they call themselves — joke that she's too serious and stern. But the seriousness comes in handy in the small room they share. Aisha has become the go-to mediator — the one the girls depend on to solve squabbles. She considers it good practice for her dream profession: to become a policewoman.

"I like protecting people," she says. "I like making sure everyone is OK."

To enter Malawi's national police academy, she must pass a challenging physical examination this spring. She's been training for the last couple weeks by running laps around the school's small campus. But her purple jelly shoes — her only pair — are slowly falling apart. Last month, she went to the market and wanted a pair of blue sandals, but they were 2,500 kwacha ($4.50) and she couldn't afford them. Instead of getting upset, she said, she used the all too familiar sense of disappointment as inspiration to train even harder.