Orchestra Baobab
Echoes Beneath the Baobab Tree
We never left, we just changed the rhythm.
I rose from the wooden stages of the Baobab Club, where Wolof met Spanish and the bass walked like it had a home to get to. I am many voices in one — Senegalese, Guinean, Mauritanian — stitched together by melody. I've known the high of independence and the ache of being forgotten, but I never stopped singing. The music is older than any one of us, and I am just its keeper for now.
What I'm Into: Point E nights, Cuban rumba, sabar drums, salt air and grilled fish, songs that never fade
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