Walking down the dusty road that led into the heart of the Ibo Island community, I really didn’t have the slightest idea what to expect.
Raising my hand to wave “Ola” and smiling shyly, I greeted all who stood staring and the warmth I received just blew me away. The kids rallied round, touching my impossibly straight hair, giggling amongst themselves as they did so, the adults trying to communicate in the local dialect – all of them smiling, friendly and extremely curious. I was overcome by an inner warmth and for a split second, the rest of the world just melted away. I was really there – in the moment – in a small part of real Africa – and I felt extremely fortunate.
Since leaving Cape Town behind I’ve done and seen things I’ve read about but never thought I’d do. I’ve ventured into unfamiliar homes, back yards, shebeens and even run down deserted cinemas to record djembe drummers and choirs. I’ve explored my way through what was once an old homestead that housed slaves for many a decade, dodging the bats and resident birds as I did so. I’ve wandered around an old fort with an old man whose stories painted such vivid pictures in my mind I could almost hear the cries of the men as they loaded up canons on a windy blustery day or the clanging made by the iron monger as his mallet met the anvil whilst he worked. I’ve walked upon the soft wet sand on a nearly undiscovered island under a full moon and heard the unspoilt laughter of a genuine people.
I’ve experienced life on sleepy Ibo Island, an island filled with old tradition and a simple, honest way of life and it’s all of this that has left me wanting for more . . . more discovery of what is out there, more real life experience, more travel, more Africa.
Taz Wilde – Sound
