I kept my eyes open, because I didn’t want to miss a thing like Aerosmith would say.
I saw a breed of yippies, a cluster of nonconformists, a beeline of travelers, a clan of enjoyments, a tribe of life eaters, and an army of art lovers. It was a 4-day nirvana. And Nyege lived up to the hype. Forget the reviews from self-baptized purists that have called Sheebah’s performance names. Perhaps I was too stoned to notice, but I saw Karungi and I loved every bit of her performance. I saw folks gingerly snaking through the humming darkness looking for a stage with louder music and more people. Enjoyment hunters, phones in one hand and drinks in the other. I saw creative entrepreneurs trying to make a living off their hands. A face painter here. A tattoo artiste over there. I saw business folks literally selling bread and fish to thousands of folks. I saw commerce, music and the arts in the same WhatsApp group. I saw a party, party, party and after party. I saw a tented village with campers. And when darkness fell, someone asked you, “Have you seen my green tent? It’s near a black tent.” I saw a meaning of life. A secret password to another world. Another medium. A different planet. I saw ‘rich’ folks with personal videographers and photographers documenting every step. Over there, a popular local celebrity queues up for a rolex. And here, right here, no one cares. We’re a tribe communicating in the same dialect under the watchful eyes of gods of the Nyege. I saw a sea of familiar faces. A colony of tweeps.
I saw the white folks who crossed oceans and burnt jet fuel to take a bite off this festival’s cake. I saw cakes, too. This was a massive congregation of all races, of all colours, of all tribes. No one’s judging you. No one is craving for your attention. No one is giving you time. To each their own and that’s what makes Nyege tick. It’s that. It’s the thrill of living on the edge. It’s pausing the clock and just…just living.
Again, I didn’t see animals.
We serve you the Nyege Nyege sauce in a pictorial by
