Yossou Ndour in Madrid

[Written for Madame Toubab, here]

It's almost impossible to talk about Senegal without talking about Yossou Ndour. In 2004 the magazine Rolling Stone described him as one of the most famous singers alive, but that's only part of the story.

Nobody doubts that Yossou Ndour is an exceptional musician. Throughout his career (he first performance was at 12, and he's now 50) he has managed to make mbalax known around the world. He's revolutionized Senegalese music and taken it with him wherever he goes -- which is, basically, everywhere. But beyond the music, he's been a world-class political figure: according to Time Magazine (2007) he's also one of the 100 most influential people in the world. He's gotten involved in political movements such as the one to free Nelson Mandela in the 1980s, participated with Amnesty International, or worked with the UN and UNICEF, among others. Also, since 2001 Ndour has been involved in the Joko Project, which he described in a 2005 interview:

Joko is (...) designed to create internet access in rural regions, and to give local residents the chance to learn internet skills and to create a business. We give them the chance to open internet cafes called ‘Joko Club’, which are part of a national network. There, they can conduct training, teach people the use of the internet, sell products via the web, operate telephone lines — there are many possibilities. It’s a way of increasing employment and training in the remote regions of Senegal.

In domestic politics, he's unavoidable. He has no problem talking openly about prickly issues such as clandestine migration (in his song Tukki), the Massamba Seck affair, religion, Panafricanism, or poligamy.

But to know something and feel it are two different things. And even though all these things were in my head as I walked up the stairs of the Escenario de Puerta del Ángel last Tuesday, it was moving to see him alive. To hear him. To dance to his music. It was incredible. After the first song everyone in the crowd was dancing. We danced for about two hours, and three times (3!!) we made him come back on stage. People were happy when we came in, many in their beautifully embroided boubous. And we were happier and sweatier when we walked out. So happy.

Yossour Ndour in Madrid, from La Estrella Digital.

I don't know if it's just me, but I had the feeling that the many Senegalese in the audience felt much more entitled to be (t)here because Ndour was up on stage, making all of us move, dance, laugh and sing at his will. He talked about Africa, he made us all answer to his Salaam Aleikum, he laugh and smiled a smile whiter than his white boubou.

Music can indeed be powerful.