Natachaatlashalim!
Hot nights in Morocco
Nation ...

I know the rule of the game at Luna Kafé : to write something about a band or artist of one's own country. I'll do that again, but for once, let an European talk about an Egyptian artist! (Egypt, Belgium, England, ... anything goes! - editor's note)

This is the story: once I was a speaker on a conference in Morocco. The evening before leaving, we didn't feel like walking outside the hotel. The tourist's typical restaurant was almost empty, only the three of us and a dozen of Lebaneses, obviously business-men, fat cigars and loud voices. The meal, a kind of mezze, I guess, was rather excellent, even considering the price we paid for it. A kind of stage stood in a corner, no more than a 10 feet square, and some invisible roadies had placed some percu-devices and an incredibly old fashioned Farfisa organ. You know, the kind of you played as you were a child.

Then came three guys and began to play. And I was no more in that anonymous place, but within the sound of odd beats and even harmonies. It was like Zakir Hussain playing his guts just for ten people, like the Farfisa turned into an orchestra. Then she came, dressed in metallic medals and khol and nothing. She danced, body waved by the waves. Each earring she wore seemed tuned with the notes spinning free between the tables. And she neared the business-men's table, captured by the odour of banknotes. Then I knew what they lived like centuries ago, with all the people coming from cold winters and wet countries.

And here she is, Natacha writes and sings. Probably she dances too. She is the girl who dances for you when you feel far and empty.

Copyright © 1998 Jean Lambert