Lucious Banda! Malawi's biggest star! He's playing tonight at a place down a small road that's the last left before the roundabout, we're told. After a few wrong turns we find a turnoff where several sets of headlights search down a potholed road, so we follow them and find a plain building surrounded by cars. We go in and see a warehouse stage lit with green, red and black; a bar in the back. We order drinks and sit on a table, watching the dancers perform.
It's four men with shoulder padded suitjackets and white undershirts, big belted tight bluejeans and beige berets. They move in choreographed rythms, together, so that they look like puppets being jerked around by strings at their elbows, knees and hips. Their neon striped and checkered ties never settle on their chests, but twist and ribbon through the air from the speed of the dance.
An hour or so later and large man wearing a t-shirt wanders across the stage discreetly. Even though he's picking up the mic I don't think it can be Lucious Banda because he has not a bit of the body language of a star. He seems like too nice of a guy. "Hello everyone, I'm so sorry to be late. I did not want to be late. And everyone is left standing here, it's not good. But we can start NOW!" A happy wave of sound rolls out from the stage and carries us the rest of the night.
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