Anyone seeing us would probably have thought we were old college friends off to a reunion, especially as once again Kenny Rogers was blasting through the squeaky speakers, Muddy and O singing along happily. We were happy with ourselves and with life. For the first time it looked like we might not...
He wouldn’t have been expecting me to be in the U.S., let alone at an African Festival in Oakland; and in my outfit, to him I was anyone other than myself. Nor would I have seen him, except that on this second and last day of the festival I’d stopped giving in to the seductive music and food and ...