final mombasa show

last night was crammed to bursting point. People pressed up against each other on the stone steps, lined the walls. I could barely move in my tiny stage area, without bumping into the legs of the front row.

It was incredible. So utterly lovely to feel the energy rise to the rafters, spill out the doors. I couldn't have asked for a better end to Migritude's Kenya tour.

Afterwards, we hung out in the Old Town, ate masala chips, mishkaki, cassava crisps. Keith went over to an ice-cream shop and came back with chocolate-covered vanilla cones, frozen hard, for all of us. Haven't had one of those since I was a child.

Post-show euphoria is the best, best kind of high. When it's gone well, when all the work has paid off, my whole body fills with exhilaration, relief, the pleasure of celebration that I've earned.