Me and Alou after his performance in the band Ngoni Ba (with Bassekou Kouyate) in Whistler, BC for the para-Olympics.If preparing to go back to Morocco *and* graduate school wasn't enough to keep me on my toes, my teacher from Mali, Alou, who is on a 4-month tour of the US right now, came to the NW.
I had planned on going to the Seattle and Portland show but when a colleague asked if I was interested in carpooling up to Vancouver, BC to see their performance at the para-Olympics, I though it would make a great surprise for Alou.
Three of us carpooled up from Seattle and arrived in the early afternoon. Soon after we arrived, we learned that the time of the concert had been moved back and we had only minutes to get to the show. By the time we found parking, there was no time to see Alou before the show; the manager told us they were getting dressed and were going on in four minutes. A little crestfallen at not being able to see him first, I got close up in the audience, hoping to catch his eye.
I was trying to send him mental messages as he got prepared on stage: "Alou-- look over here... Alou...!" Finally he did see me, during a part when he wasn't playing; his reaction will forever be burned into my brain. The last time we had seen each other was February of 2009 when he put me in a cab in Bamako. When he looked my direction, finally, I waved frantically. His eyes got big, he brought both hands up to his mouth, and he started jumping up and down. From that point on in the concert, we played off of each other's moves, laughing, smiling and imitating each other. I danced my little butt off.
I could hardly wait to throw my arms around him after the concert; it was almost torture. After their bow after the last encore, I motioned to him to meet me by the side of the stage and I nearly knocked over the security guard busting past the tape to run to Alou. We jumped up and down, hugging and swaying, him covering me with kisses, which were a little embarrassing but I was laughing too hard to care. The audience could see us and I knew we were causing a scene but seeing Alou again was the most magical moment I've had since my year abroad.
When Alou and I first met in Bamako, there was an instant connection. My French was horrible but somehow, we clicked. His joy and lightness was infectious and profoundly moving. With Alou, I had never laughed so hard and studying music had never been so joyful. To me, Alou has always been a little ball of sunshine and I came to love him immensely and immediately, to the point that my love for him can make me cry. It's a love for the spirit I see in him; a love for his free, emotional, immensely joyful self. I still don't know why seeing him play can make me cry with joy, but I find myself thinking, "Thank god there are people in the world like him. He is the light in a world of dark." I don't know that I have ever loved another human spirit as much I love his spirit.
The wheels in my brain had been turning since I'd decided to surprise Alou in Vancouver. I had decided to ask the tour manager if I could tag along for the NW portion of the tour, which would be four days. I didn't expect it to work and when I met the manager and proposed the idea, I could tell he was wary, doubtful and caught off guard. He told me that he'd think about it and tell me later but my ride back to Seattle was leaving soon so I had to find a polite way of pressuring him to give me an answer. And that's where Alou came through, pulled him aside, and I think that was the only reason why they let me come.
The next four days were a total dream. I crashed in the hotel room with Alou and Moussa, the talking-drum player. The following day we went up to Whistler where they performed an exceptionally dynamite show given that it was just a free concert in the ski village. Then the Seattle and Portland shows followed. I spent 24/7 with the band these four days and got to enjoy getting to know them. They enjoyed teasing me on my total lack of understanding Bamana, their native tongue. They loved walking up to me and asking me a question in Bamana to which I would always answer, "But of course!" in French, which would make them bust up laughing. Of course, they came up with all kinds of tacky questions to crack each other up (Alou translating for me) such as, "Hey Tamara, are the women loose here?"
I spent most of my time with Alou and the other ngoni players (Foussenyi, Musaba, Omar) as well as Moussa. We went out to eat, went shopping, and took silly pictures of each other. Of course, most of all, I was treasuring every moment with Alou, knowing it would not last forever.
With my French being much better now, we were able to have some profound conversations about our lives and what had happened in our lives over the past year.
Over the course of the four days, the tour manager and the sound guy came to not only tolerate me but trust me with escorting and driving band members, and treating me like one of the crew. That was a nice compliment.
Wednesday, the day of the Portland show, I brought Alou to my house to show him my instrument collection. He enjoyed the Brazilian timbal, Moroccan guimbri, and then picked up my acoustic guitar and began playing and singing a gorgeous Malian song. At one point in the song, the singing became a kind of spoken poetry over the music.
He was suddenly serious, looking at me without that usual spark of silliness or joy. And in French he said to me:
Oh Tamara
Seize the good things in life.
Pay no attention to bad people or those who say you can't.
Many things in your life have passed and there are many more things to come;
many, many more.
When you love something, go after it.
You are my girl and you are strong!
You are very, very strong. So very strong.
All of your life is in front of you.
Never fear.
Don't worry yourself.
Seize the good things in life.
Anything is possible.
I will always guard you in my heart.
When my tears almost became small sobs, he finally put the guitar down and hugged me.
The next morning, I saw them off at the airport. Even though we have plans to meet up in Boston in a week at his show there, still, it was a tearful goodbye. Seeing my tears, he grabbed me by hand, locking our elbows, looked intensely in my eyes and said again in his strong, serious voice, "You are my girl, you are so strong. I'm with you in heart."
After Boston, I don't know when I will ever see Alou again but it was miraculous that we were given the four days together so I can only trust that life will certainly have more surprises.
As Alou kept telling me,
Tout est possible dans la vie; Everything is possible in life!
