Sarabi - The Secret Invitation
She
At first glance, she seems simple. Understated. Almost humble in her hood, her serene features, her barely sketched smile.
But look closer.
Around her neck, on her fingers — gold. Discreet, never ostentatious, but impossible to ignore. These are the jewels of someone who doesn't need to shout her rank for it to be felt. She belongs to another caste — that of women who know.
And yet, she reaches out to you. To me. Not from the height of her grandeur, but with a quiet generosity. As if she had come discreetly, without a sound, just to say: I am here.
Her gaze is frank. Direct. It asks for nothing and offers everything. It was that gaze that convinced me, at the very moment I was painting her, that she truly existed.
His name
Giving a name completes the act of creation, allowing something to exist, and this name was not chosen at random.
Of Swahili origin, Sarabi means "mirage" or "illusion"—something rare, powerful, that both exists and does not exist. It exudes an aura of majesty and wisdom, often associated with strong female figures.
You might recognize her: it's the name of the mother in The Lion King, a female and maternal figure who embodies dignity, strength, and presence.
This is exactly the aura I wanted to infuse into this painting. A serene yet powerful figure. A hypnotic gaze. A confident posture, and open, welcoming hands.
For me, Sarabi is not just the name of this woman. She is the very embodiment of this concept.
What I needed
My heart aches a little at the thought that one day I might sell it.
When I started this painting, I was in a period of deep uncertainty. A new country. A new life to build. Questions that kept looping in my mind: am I doing enough—professionally, for my family, for my passion? Am I enough?
I imagined this woman as an answer I couldn't yet give myself. Bigger than me. With more possibilities, more power. A femininity assured to her fingertips. Someone I could lean on.
She watches me every moment. She reassures me. She invites me.
She could be strong for herself—and for me.
I needed this piece. And this piece, in a way, built me in return.
