Poetry evening in cafe Madness, Capetown, march 9th

On a monday evening, a crowd in the garden, laughter en talks and drinks. We are in Cafe Madness. The place where writers, poets, musicians , artists come together. I walk with my friends Willem and Susan through the garden , up the stairs where even more people sit around a bar, behind tables and standing , talking. We are heading for the room, yes also with a view , where the poetry recital will be held. High windows, drawings of europeans on the wall with heavy clothes on. It could be the room of one of the old Dutch houses of the Prinsengracht. It isn't. It is Cafe Madness. The room is crowded with people, standing and sitting. It is hot , the windows are open but still. I zip my kaapse red wine. The evening starts with the 'poet of the evening'. A beautiful young woman, standing in front, singing, speaking. The words grow bigger as they flow into the room. Two languages are spoken, woven in to each other, by mannini mokirotu and Anki Krog. It is not just words but the creative form in which these words are brought to us. The crowd is enthousiastic, free in expressing what they feel towards the speaker, to what they hear. The whole room is vibrant, is filled with the creative spirit of the people in it. Creativeness flows, form speakers to crowd , from crowd to speakers. englisch, isixosa, zulu, afrikaans, Surinamese, Dutch, Middle Englisch, American English. Singing , guitarplaying, and the sound of a rainmaker. I am warmly welcomed and eyes are waiting for my words . I feel my mother, my grandmother and my great grandmother on my sholders, they enjoy. I brought them here with me. And i speak. The Poem 'Suriname', in Dutch, and the poem about South Africa 'Yu kondre teki mi skin' (I feel your country as the wind beneath my wings) in Surinamese. It is sharing and receiving that makes this evenening a very inpiring one, special because of the love and friendship you feel with people you can connect with. It is the blankness of just listening and feeling, without prejudice. It is time. As from the words of one of the performers "Time is love, That is Time"