WHAT’S KILLING ALISTAIR

The first time I saw him, he was attempting to pay for a taxi with black pebbles he had found on the Accra beach. He was absolutely convinced these stones were diamonds and got beat up by the driver for not being able to pay. He looked like no man I had ever seen. No one had impressed me with this unique quality of reaching both the life and death drive together in a single movement. There came the man I had hoped to meet for years. You rarely encounter someone incarnating so many statements at once: He was carrying in him the raw material of  pre and post colonial Africa, the European losing his mind and all his money, selling his soul in exchange for the  feeling of “being”. The eternal tragic pursuit of pleasure and happiness. In him was a living description of the Bi polar disease, the mania, the delusions and hallucinations he was suffering from.

In his early years, Alistair had been a genius businessman, a millionaire but things had fallen apart as his disease had evolved. Through a slow fall, he had ended up roaming around in rags and delirium in the Accra slums, ranting about his gold mines, the companies he owned, the women who adored him. The life he had lost was the one he was inventing. Alistair didn’t need anything for all possible wealth was created in his mind. Nothing mattered and everything had value. All men he encountered were presidents, Kings, emperors. There were power, sex, money and conspiracies everywhere.

The pictures here presented are an intimate documentary on the intense relationship I shared with Alistair. We met on the 7th of April 2011. I helped him finding the means to go back to England where his life ended on the 23rd of July. He was buried in August.