established 01/04/00 Sustaining the principles of love in action : ubuntu /sharing PORTFOLIO OF CULTURAL JOURNALISM : the doors of culture and learning shall be opened struhuru@gmail.com

On the road with a superstar is always going to be an interesting experience. But if the road is a dusty one between Senegal's new and old capitals - Dakar and Saint Louis, the concerts are in poverty stricken areas to raise awareness for a polio victim and the superstar is the chic, sexy, explosive and outspoken Baaba Maal - it is bound to be a rather fantastical experience.

From semi-arid to just about completely arid, across a massive green oasis, along tight and dusty roads and past a few desperately obvious villages, Baaba's flash four by four races ahead with a unique energy. Outside, the soccer field is a sandpit, the hairdressing salon a telephone booth, the people poor and the landscape desperate. A man stumbles across the road dragging an old goat behind him. He's dirty, worn and haggard, but proudly dressed in a stunning emerald green robe.

Inside, we've got the radio playing that repetitive, chaotic West African rhythm, the band clapping and a very peculiar addition to the tour - a round man with thick glasses and a white robe, causing infinite hilarity - the comedian.

Amongst the song, and vigorous vibe, Baaba leans over to chat about the mission at hand. "This tour is the first fight this band is doing. People need the knowledge, to understand how to take care against disease. And you have to talk it in a language that they can understand, that is near to them. Culture is very near to them, it is their tradition. They know the music, they don't take it like music for the business - they take it like a social music. They understand everything in the songs."

The desperate poverty, repressive heat and red warmth of the desert sands slowly faded across the endless landscape into a dramatic sunset and our first stop and transit - the tiny village of Mboro, and the school office - rather calmly attired in simple cement floors, time-share white tiles, mustard bedcover curtains your mother probably through out and a kitsch pine bed. Baaba takes the bed, the comedian takes the stage and we all take a meal. Without the language it is very difficult to tell exactly what was going down - but the comedian would dive into long and deadpan dialogues in Wolof (the local language) punctuated with outbursts of laughter.

Baaba would call me over to shake my hips in an imaginary boogie, my friend Ousmane would point, clap and laugh shouting 'Crazy man, he's a crazy man!',b whilst the young dancer for the group placed his mat on the floor to pray. Not a moment of silence or rest until midnight's departure for the random tract of desert chosen as the venue for the night's concert.

Like the chants Mohammed Ali created in Zaire - the rhythmical calls (all in the guttural language of Wolof) of 'Baaba' 'We love you', 'Baaba', 'We're with you forever' rung out filling this hollow landscape with a vivid identity until the concert finally got underway after 3am.

The village was thrust into darkness, with all the electricity run from the main power line for the sound. The speakers stood on classroom desks, the stage was built using a collection of high jump mats and hundred gallon drums and the early desert morning became very cool. But the tiny village was there, the old, the young, the conservative and the out-going, enjoying the authentic, diverse and interesting Senegalese grooves. "This is where I take my sound from," Baaba tells me. "I mix it with my traditional background and my experiences of life. It all starts from the African elements. I like to play in the villages to see how they are going to dance, to react, to see what kind of clothes they are going to put - because this is where I take my inspiration."

Dressed in a purple New York afro-chic suit and elegantly strutting his leather boots through the desert dust, Baaba's demure and refined figure cut a striking contrast amongst the cacophony of fans, jumping, shouting and dancing in the dirt. No flowing African robes that famously brought colour to the Royal Albert, no overted dance steps, big smiles and international collaborations - the music is not about Baaba, it is about the audiences. The Western audiences discover and share in Baaba's core afro-centricity and the Senegalese audiences profit from the travels and experiences he has gained from.

We returned to the school office shortly before sunrise where Baaba enjoyed a couple of cigarettes to ease the mind before setting off on a six hour drive for Saint Louis, the next venue. For the rest of us we chose to rest before the long and difficult drive.

Three mattresses lay together on the floor outside the school in the open cool night sky. No pillows, no blankets, but instead the comedian to hold the floor until our departure. For an hour he talked, for an hour everybody laughed, and with that we were back on the road.

At around mid-morning we arrived at our destination - a flush French run hotel just outside the city of Saint Louis. There Baaba stood. Gentle and dignified, dressed in a white Versace tracksuit, leaning over the steaming bonnet of the landcruiser, still in good humour. Even though the rest of the day was reserved for rest, the concert that night was a slightly more lethargic affair, performed on the basket-ball courts at the university of Saint Louis. The lighting was no more than a few aptly placed street-lamps, the sound was dismal, but the large student crowd was appreciative, energetic and inspired by the proximity and internationality of this great star.

With the sun making a dramatic appearance we stopped off at a roadside shack. No signs, no advertorials, only open steel windows, but the manager, Mbasor, dressed in dramatic flowing purple robes and the pointed shoes to match knocked heavily at the door. A rather startled, but attractive lady invited us in. Words, money and finally a glorious platter of meat were exchanged and we returned to the pool of the hotel for a tasty dinner and an array of gin and tonics.

Baaba and I talked briefly about the tour, the poverty, the difficulties and his role as a leader and an African. "I talk to a lot of musicians and intellectual people in Africa and they see my way as a kind of reference - to be part of the world in general but also deeply African. People got to know how to talk about, how to define Africa. I want people to see Africa in new eyes, to know that it is not dead, it is always alive and people can give confidence to Africa We have a lot of strong people who really want to do something, who really want to participate in the universal development, but deeply to help Africa to give the place that Africa needs to have."

That evening shortly after the rather bizarre and prolonged diversion of tortoises copulating, Baaba choose not to eat with us. Instead, he slowly and contemplatedly paced the hotel gardens - occasionally raising his arms to his shoulders and the sky in aerobic fashion and occasionally bending to scrutinise and observe the intricacies and beauties of the flowers that paved the path. His movements were entirely meditative - a brief moment where he could remove his mind from his burgeoning career and the weight of expectation that plagues a great success in such a difficult area. It was exactly that hour, experienced shortly after waking, of sufficient disorientation that makes one wonder exactly what he could be thinking. Probably only those sweet and simple morning thoughts, but possibly the cultural and social ambition that makes him Baaba Maal - the great African musician.

"I want to be more international and well known." he says. "But at the same time I don't want to turn my back to Africa and my roots. I want to make it the same line between here and the rest of the world. Not to work in the international market and then come back here and work in this market. The whole world has to share and when you're talking about sharing you have to forgive. Everything should be connected to one whole project that is more universal."