Belgium is a funny little place, divided between Dutch speakers in the north and French speakers in the south, with Brussels, a French-speaking capital marooned in the middle. Tribalism is alive and well in Europe, with three linguistic groups fighting for resources and recognition in one tiny land.

"We may do fifteen concerts in Belgium," said my Belgian friend and producer of some of Africa's greatest acts, "and twelve will be in the north. The northerners are completely curious about African music but at the same time, 35 percent of northerners belong to the Far Right and are completely racist."

The Gangbe Brass Band blew me away with their wicked Voudun, Afro-beat, jazz, marching band sounds and Beninois softness and humour.

*****



P and I spent a happy evening in Abidjan in the summer at a Kofi Olomide concert; we only went to see what kind of sunglasses he would wear on stage. Walking through the Belgian drizzle, I was delighted to come across a station bridge plastered with posters bearing his arrogant image. I thought of P and happy African days. Somehow, my African days all seem happy, I can't remember now, if I ever knew at all, why I left.