When Habib Koite met Lerato Mogoatlhe

Thursday afternoon in Essakane, 50 ks out of Timbuktu.
I heave my way up a dune, looking for a drink and maybe cool company when this guy leaps up to me, makes me take a sit, puts a glass of Johny Walker in front of me and invites me, Belle, to sit with him and his crew.

No sweat. A middle aged crowd to ease the pain of my teens and youth hovering around me.
And, obvisouly, not going to try seling me something so I sat, took a swig and officially started my first night, first time at the annual festival au desert.

A little while later.

He, dressed in black and an over sized rasta cap, wool, comes over to the table. He being Habib Koite, one of my favourite artists...also one of Africa's and the world's finest.

Everyone acts like the old friends they are, greeting, laughing, high fiving. I get up. Go to his side, take his hands into my mine, bow a bit and say, "Ntate Koite, ke nna Lerato Mogoatlhe."

He says happy to meet you. Being on the same table, we start talking, he wants to know where I al from, what I am doing in Mali ("here to stalk you," said and received with a smile)

We chat, he chat, he says improve your French coz you are missig out and then tells me that he just called for a "mutton". Nku, igusha, sheep. Which they brng alive, slaughter and skin net daar so.

The night progresses, the festival starts and I think why be net to the stage when I could be hangig with Koit'e, talking his music and how we will def be skeeming each other back in Bamako. Seems everyone thinks that too so we hang around teh table, next to a bon fire, laughing as hard as Malians love doing.

Salif Keita comes on. We go watch him perform. I head back to the Bar and Habib's skeem, the peopel who invited me to sit with them, refuse to let me go to bed.

HUGE favour.

Koite returns. We all move inside, sit on the carpet and lay his music.

Mmma we. Koite did not know what him.

I ask him to dance. We do, to Massake.

He cannot move to save his life. O steifi and u know how sad it is to watch Black people who cant dance?

So he sits.

And I show him how to move to these songs that so feed my soul. And when I say move, I mean MOVE.

I will end here.

By saying what a man, what a moment. I look forward to many chapters of "When Habib Koite met Lerato"

oh.

On Friday I took a break from the guys. Guess what was the first thing Habib said to me when he saw me on Saturday morning?

"I did not see you last night. Where were you?"