14VIII1999 het is zaterdagavond. de laatste kans om dobberende stukken drijfidee bij elkaar te graaien en naar het dok te drijven. daar worden ze dan omhoog gehesen en bebeiteld en geschaafd om daarna min of meer gestroomlijnd een plek in de wereldwijde informatiezee te zoeken [in de vorm van een log].

last sunday oussou came over to our house with his childhood friend abdul karim. normally it's a pleasure to just hang out with them. telling stories about our countries, drinking tea and watching the people and the day pass by. but sunday was even more special. they brought two jambÈs with them and started playing in the front yard. my head was buzzing with some lost malariabug that should have left with its family a week before, but that all ceased when their music started. strong monotonous rhythms, returning themes, little jokes. songs in a small language with stories that do not end. of course some of the kids of the quartier were already on our garden wall [as they are always when there's somebody in the front yard; just watching] now they started dancing...a dangerous garden wall dance and we invited them in. a dozen other kids followed and started dancing all over the place. great swinging garden. oussou, the kidsking and karim were laughing and playing like crazy, enjoying the children's fun so much. `peace and love'. as they grew tired [had been playing all night in town] and soaked with sweat...ready to return home, a little girl appeared from a shy corner, and man, she felt the vibes, she danced...she DANCED, she was the beats and oussou saw her first took her hand and pulled her up front. and she rocked, she floated while they played on gasping for breath, dripping with sweat and lauging, laughing. and the other children were amazed to and where clapping to encourage her, 6 year old in a shining yellow dress.