A Summary of Summer 2023: Part II

 4 min. read

Part 1

The summer is also not without cultural solace. I attend a free play about domestic abuse, performed by a non-professional collective of survivors and/or support workers. I sign up at the Beurs creative space for a free screening of a documentary on the Afro-Brazilian political movement during the 1970s and 80s. The organisers are strict. Those of us who arrive even a few minutes late are locked out. Some give up and return home. I go to a nearby bar to wait for another opening and self-remonstrate in the meantime. My patience eventually pays off. I sneak in for the closing act of the film, which is followed by a flavoursome vegan supper. It’s another great occasion for stimulating conversation with those who have overlapping interests. One such is the elegantly beautiful event coordinator, Rahel, whose family relocated from Ethiopia to Flanders. In the coming weeks, we'll exchange a number of socio-cultural recommendations and groove at one of the many open-air concerts on Brussel's annual car-free Sunday.

 I practise Portuguese with a patient French national who spent many years in Brazil and has an excellent command of the language. Such is their androgyny, that I’m highly nervous about mis-gendering them. Short of asking for their preferred pronoun - which I’m concerned might cause offence in case it’s not as ambiguous to them as it is to me - I endeavour to stay on my grammatical toes. 

The following week I attend the book launch of writer and researcher Hans Kundnani’s EuroWhiteness; about the ethno-cultural construction of modern European identity. It is held at a culture hub  (pictured above) that I’ve only just come across. I don’t know how it escaped my attention all this time. The venue hosts a cornucopia of intellectually-rich activities. 

The format of the launch is a mix of presentations by Kundnani and Asian-British journalist Mehreen Khan - who lived and worked in Belgium for five years - group discussions and Q&A. It becomes a moment of spontaneous networking. I am pleasantly surprised to encounter more Black and Asian Brits at that one event than I have the whole three years I’ve lived in Belgium so far.

In other news, I meet up with old friend Melissa, in Liège. Normally based in Southern Africa with her husband and gorgeous children, it’s been over a decade since we last saw each other in the flesh. Her eldest child, now 12, was less than a year old. Melissa and her husband, Pius, do amazing work as activists for migrants’ rights. It was also Mel who introduced me to Lorenzo. Thank God, our own connection has survived the dissolution of that friendship.

Mel has a brilliant mind, is a gifted multi-linguist and one of the most culturally-aware Caucasians I’ve ever met. She’s also very humble. Mel has been invited as the keynote speaker for a graduation ceremony at her Alma Mater in the Netherlands. She uses it as an opportunity to do a mini-tour of the Benelux region. 

Mel meets me at the main station in Liège which, bizarrely, is the venue for a very loud EDM festival that weekend. We divide our time between her inviting Airbnb and a local park. Naturally, we talk about everything under the sun and still run out of time. It’s been so long and I enjoy her company so much, I wish I could extend it. Alas, Mel only has a few days left in town.

I do not want for musical outlets. I continue to frequent any jam or free concert still running throughout the holiday period. I make a potentially fortuitous choral connection when I stumble across an active Gospel outfit, once finalists on Belgium’s Got Talent. It never showed up on any of the lists I searched when I was on the hunt for such singing opportunities. 

There could be a reason for that.

I reach out to the choir director, Jason, who responds with keenness. We arrange an informal phone call which turns into an impromptu audition. His feedback is positive. Jason warns that the choir members are very young. Not yet ready to abandon the dream, with Jason’s blessing, I invite myself to a rehearsal. Indeed, the main demographic is under 18. Jason explains the only adult members have grown up with the choir. It’s not all a waste. He is involved in a number of occasional projects for adult Gospel collectives. We agree to stay in touch.

Elsewhere, Clothilde, Agnès and I revive our long dormant harmony sessions in the park. I reach out to both in July to see if it could be a possibility, not especially optimistic that it will materialise. There’s a lot to be said about managing expectations. To my delight and slight shock, both respond in the affirmative. It’ll be the first time all three of us reunite in almost a year. I bring along a few song selections with nothing particular in mind. The girls show enthusiasm for one of my Gospel favourites: Strange Land by Commissioned. Our harmonising reunion goes better than anything I could have planned.

Soundtrack: By the Water by Sondae + A Good Life by Marie Dahlstrøm