It is Friday night
Afro-Latin rhythms float lazily between the tall palm trees on a humid breeze, like the waves lapping the Mozambican shores. Every obscure little tavern becomes a hive of activity filled with sweaty human forms, swaying to the passionate beat under the starlit African sky.
Suddenly an eerie silence descends upon this small East African coastline. A total power black-out, again... it is as if the whole nation is holding its breath.
The minutes drag by. Then a faint cheer starts from the South and moves like a Mexican wave through the darkness to the North and in its wake, lights start to flicker on. The power is back… now Friday night can go on.
