Last Thursday I played my first performance in Africa, in Khartoum. And it was great!
The African rhythm isn’t always easy because things are often postponed or take days to organise instead of hours. I suffer from this a little because everything takes a lot of time and energy. So this week my team and me flipped a coin, and we decided I would do the performance. A not so easy decision for me as I can’t ‘just play’ this performance in front of an accidental audience of three
But as it turned out it was a good decision (someday I’ll learn!). The location ended up being the perfect location. And not just a few audience turned up but 200 not so accidental passers by watched the performance. I played in the area where I walked around the most the last couple of weeks. In the centre of the city on the sportsfield of the Comboni School. Because of this I had white visitors from the embassy and local NGO”s. I could welcome Omar Echzas, the police commander (who we asked authorisation to use the location)…and his little daughter! And many Sudanese from all the corners of this country.
I had not been easy on myself; I had decided to sing a part of the performance, even though I had no melody for it yet. I improvised with Khaled my translator as a kinda cool relaxed rapper net to me. It was only later that evening, that I realised what I had done. I had, as a white girl, sung the lungs out of my chest as a real soul sister. No idea of difference in colour of skin or cultural background. (Duh!) What cultural difference? My generation has the same roots. The world has become very small. It was an amazing evening that lasted until deep in the night. I loved it.
Since Sudan I have become more serious. Maybe it is because of this country. Maybe it is because of the months behind me. In any case it’s a daytime job to gather ones thoughts and at the same time get everything out of the moment. (You can hear it between the lines: It’s not going to happen!)
Doggy Kosovo is four and a half months old. He changed his teeth in Kharthoum. In essence he is the equivalent of a four year old. And more than a hand full at times! I’m sure it is partly due to his stubborn character, and I’m not the one to want to break him. He’s far too cute for that. When I return from a trip on the tractor he goes almost bezerk. He has that with all of us. It gives a great feeling of coming home: Yeeees I’m back Hello there…! Why do I write this? Yesterday he was castrated, and I feel guilty! (Even more after all this talk of female mutilation. I’ know it’s no comparison but still…!)