Dream on, but do not attach expectations to it and see it unravel surprisingly beyond any possible image you could have thought.
Now, where is this leading to?
It must have been a couple of years ago, or three or one (I simply cannot keep track of time as it rushes me past), when I was shown a DVD of an incredible singer called Angelique Kidjo performing at Lola's. She came on stage, looking tall in a manly black suit worn with a white shirt and moved along the stage like a tornado of power with the most enchanting voice. I asked Lola who she was and whether she was as impressive in person as in the video. I do remember saying:
"I'd love to meet her one day."
I meant that I was happy to see her perform live on stage, but little did I know I would actually get to meet Angelique Kidjo in person!
Donna, whose friendship in the few months we have known each other has deepened in my heart through her warmth and kindness, had invited me on her trip to see Angelique Kidjo perform in a theatre in Manchester. I gladly accepted it, as no is not an option in my book. After a short sleep and a late night out, I awoke early to meet Donna at Euston Station for our two-hour, fifteen-minute train ride to Manchester. It takes the same time as it takes to go to Paris! Here was so much to talk about that a nap along the way was not in question. e arrived at Piccadilly Train Station in Manchester (somehow, I would have never related Piccadilly to Manchester!) and went on to check into our hotel.
I had not grasped Donna's closeness with Angelique, and it was quite a surprise when she said we were meeting up with the world-famous singer for lunch! Ms. Kidjo walked into the lobby, followed by her husband. I was taken aback by her petite appearance, but boy, lurking beneath that small frame, was a character larger than life. We were of similar age but worlds apart.
As we walked through the mall in the town centre, I was amazed at how modern the city looked. In all the years of residing in this country, I do not recall visiting Manchester but a weekend in its countryside visiting an old childhood friend, Ruby, who lived there for a year. W l, there is always a first time. In the little we saw of the city, the combination of modern and old buildings next to one another brought a certain charm to the place. We lunched at Nando's, which I learned began first in Africa! I am the only one who has yet to notice this? We also know something new every day in many ways.
In the afternoon, we were all picked up at the hotel by a special van to be driven to the Royal Northern College of Music for rehearsals. Up and entering a back door stage of black walls and high ceilings, we were shown the stairs that led to Angelique Kidjo's dressing room. I may not have been jumping up and down with joy as a youngster, but inside, that childish excitement at a candy store overtook me. I kept telling everyone: 'This is so cool. As old as I am, I feel like a six-year-old right now!' Then, I thought: 'Why do people try so hard, at times, to hide their feelings in the fear of looking 'not cool'? I never want to lose that child-like innocence.'
Now, where is this leading to?
It must have been a couple of years ago, or three or one (I simply cannot keep track of time as it rushes me past), when I was shown a DVD of an incredible singer called Angelique Kidjo performing at Lola's. She came on stage, looking tall in a manly black suit worn with a white shirt and moved along the stage like a tornado of power with the most enchanting voice. I asked Lola who she was and whether she was as impressive in person as in the video. I do remember saying:
"I'd love to meet her one day."
I meant that I was happy to see her perform live on stage, but little did I know I would actually get to meet Angelique Kidjo in person!
Donna, whose friendship in the few months we have known each other has deepened in my heart through her warmth and kindness, had invited me on her trip to see Angelique Kidjo perform in a theatre in Manchester. I gladly accepted it, as no is not an option in my book. After a short sleep and a late night out, I awoke early to meet Donna at Euston Station for our two-hour, fifteen-minute train ride to Manchester. It takes the same time as it takes to go to Paris! Here was so much to talk about that a nap along the way was not in question. e arrived at Piccadilly Train Station in Manchester (somehow, I would have never related Piccadilly to Manchester!) and went on to check into our hotel.
I had not grasped Donna's closeness with Angelique, and it was quite a surprise when she said we were meeting up with the world-famous singer for lunch! Ms. Kidjo walked into the lobby, followed by her husband. I was taken aback by her petite appearance, but boy, lurking beneath that small frame, was a character larger than life. We were of similar age but worlds apart.
As we walked through the mall in the town centre, I was amazed at how modern the city looked. In all the years of residing in this country, I do not recall visiting Manchester but a weekend in its countryside visiting an old childhood friend, Ruby, who lived there for a year. W l, there is always a first time. In the little we saw of the city, the combination of modern and old buildings next to one another brought a certain charm to the place. We lunched at Nando's, which I learned began first in Africa! I am the only one who has yet to notice this? We also know something new every day in many ways.
 |
| Manchester Mall |
 |
| Rehearsal - Behind the scenes |
Donna and I were later joined by Ernest and Kelly, who chose to drive through five-hour traffic to get there for the concert that evening. We sat amongst the audience for an exhilarating two hours of a musical soiree. I was smitten by Ms Kidjo's distinctive deep vocals, the words baring knowledge of love, loss and life, of her father's guidance even now he has gone (this made me cry, thinking of my dear papa), her love for her family and her land; Africa, amongst many other subjects.
"The microphone," announced Angelique Kidjo, "Is my weapon of mass love."
It gave the spectator an insight into the remarkable woman she is, in the way she thought, and when she walked amongst the crowd, right to the top of the auditorium where everyone was standing, she showed yet another gesture of grace. At the last song, Ernest grabbed my hand to join others from the audience at Angelique's request to dance with her on stage.
After the concert, Donna said: "Haldita, you looked as though you were in your element dancing on stage to her music."
I replied: "Oh my darling, I was."
That evening ended back in our hotel lobby, having dinner and an exciting conversation with a couple of the crew.
The image I always had of Manchester, a cold, grey, somewhat industrial city, changed after my visit and experience into a colourful, exciting and happy town of exotic charm. It confirmed my point, which is that it is not merely the facade of a place that helps us envisage the impression it has left in our mind, but especially the people we come across on that journey who leave us with memories of that city.
For a different kind of scene, Friday was an invite from a DJ friend, Bass, to a rave party in Notting Hill. Si ena met me at the entrance of a warehouse-like building, accompanied by a group of international companions, to be stamped into the dark, exotic ambience created amid a vast area. We arrived early, before midnight, and walked through the desolated dance floor, past the DJ playing, to get to where one typically goes on such occasions... The bar. In no time, the place filled with a crowd of beautiful people and the night took on a full swing. My goodness, so many embraces from friends made mainly through the nights of clubbing! Kasar showed up amongst the familiar faces with a warm hug and words that I could only sigh with particular joy. From Miami to Vegas, he met with mutual friends; he reported: "Haldita, you must be having a great life with all the positive vibes being sent your way."
Indeed, I do.
As we settled into the party's mood with DJ friends playing on stage, I turned to Sirena and recalled: "Oh, Dear! I e someone waiting for me in bed."
Sirena looked at me rather astonished and asked: "Really?! Ri ht now, as we speak?"
My answer was: "Aha. My new man. Despite his persistence in keeping me home, I had to come and see you guys as promised. So he said he would send out a search warrant for me!"
She raised her hand to give me a high five and smiled: "Respect."
I left the party scene sooner than the finishing hour; it was rather odd noticing police cars and vans all along my drive home!
Monday was a home rest to relieve the cold I had picked up in Manchester. On Tuesday, my dear sister Hala arrived here to plan our next voyage of sun and sea as soon as she walked into the door. The reason for writing my blog was delayed from Tuesday evening to today was an outing to the Brompton Club by an invite from Sirena for a French Tuesday, an event organised every last Tuesday of the month on a global scale for the jet set crowd to attend in the city they are visiting, or living in. Al and Romel were there before me, and Hessa turned up shortly after 8:00pm at a large table in the corner of the club.
I asked Sirena: "Darling, did you book half the club tonight?"
Before the end of the event at midnight, Aisha walked in on her way back from Paris to meet us. The music turned sour, and we returned to my place for a catch-up with some friends. He ce, it was very late, and I was too tired to write last night.
Now... Could romance be in the air, or is it a temptation? It may be an imagination running away in my mind. The e will tell.
"The microphone," announced Angelique Kidjo, "Is my weapon of mass love."
It gave the spectator an insight into the remarkable woman she is, in the way she thought, and when she walked amongst the crowd, right to the top of the auditorium where everyone was standing, she showed yet another gesture of grace. At the last song, Ernest grabbed my hand to join others from the audience at Angelique's request to dance with her on stage.
After the concert, Donna said: "Haldita, you looked as though you were in your element dancing on stage to her music."
I replied: "Oh my darling, I was."
That evening ended back in our hotel lobby, having dinner and an exciting conversation with a couple of the crew.
 |
| Angelique Kidjo in Concert |
The image I always had of Manchester, a cold, grey, somewhat industrial city, changed after my visit and experience into a colourful, exciting and happy town of exotic charm. It confirmed my point, which is that it is not merely the facade of a place that helps us envisage the impression it has left in our mind, but especially the people we come across on that journey who leave us with memories of that city.
For a different kind of scene, Friday was an invite from a DJ friend, Bass, to a rave party in Notting Hill. Si ena met me at the entrance of a warehouse-like building, accompanied by a group of international companions, to be stamped into the dark, exotic ambience created amid a vast area. We arrived early, before midnight, and walked through the desolated dance floor, past the DJ playing, to get to where one typically goes on such occasions... The bar. In no time, the place filled with a crowd of beautiful people and the night took on a full swing. My goodness, so many embraces from friends made mainly through the nights of clubbing! Kasar showed up amongst the familiar faces with a warm hug and words that I could only sigh with particular joy. From Miami to Vegas, he met with mutual friends; he reported: "Haldita, you must be having a great life with all the positive vibes being sent your way."
Indeed, I do.
As we settled into the party's mood with DJ friends playing on stage, I turned to Sirena and recalled: "Oh, Dear! I e someone waiting for me in bed."
Sirena looked at me rather astonished and asked: "Really?! Ri ht now, as we speak?"
My answer was: "Aha. My new man. Despite his persistence in keeping me home, I had to come and see you guys as promised. So he said he would send out a search warrant for me!"
She raised her hand to give me a high five and smiled: "Respect."
I left the party scene sooner than the finishing hour; it was rather odd noticing police cars and vans all along my drive home!
Monday was a home rest to relieve the cold I had picked up in Manchester. On Tuesday, my dear sister Hala arrived here to plan our next voyage of sun and sea as soon as she walked into the door. The reason for writing my blog was delayed from Tuesday evening to today was an outing to the Brompton Club by an invite from Sirena for a French Tuesday, an event organised every last Tuesday of the month on a global scale for the jet set crowd to attend in the city they are visiting, or living in. Al and Romel were there before me, and Hessa turned up shortly after 8:00pm at a large table in the corner of the club.
I asked Sirena: "Darling, did you book half the club tonight?"
Before the end of the event at midnight, Aisha walked in on her way back from Paris to meet us. The music turned sour, and we returned to my place for a catch-up with some friends. He ce, it was very late, and I was too tired to write last night.
Now... Could romance be in the air, or is it a temptation? It may be an imagination running away in my mind. The e will tell.
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