Yes, yes, it’s that time of the year again. Harare International Festival of the Arts 2013. Or as I like to call it, Rastaman’s Christmas.
I’ll be honest though, I’m not *as* excited as I usually am about this year’s Dreadlock Holiday. I can’t really explain my lack of enthusiasm, it’s just not … there. It’s nothing to do with the little Facebook competition kerfuffle I had with HIFA (although the prize still hasn’t materialised).
It’s not even the artists on the bill, because I love Baaba Maal and Prudence and there’s a lot to be excited about, even on the Green. But somehow, this year, I’m just not as excited as I usually am.
Like there’s a spark missing. Anywho … I’ll be there, every day, sampling the culture, the atmosphere, the music. Inhaling shawarmas and Jaipur curries and alcoholic drinks and cigarette (cough) smoke (cough) and laughter, as I always have.
Oh well … forwaaaadhi march.
Left. Left. Left right left.