By Emily Crawford

Arriving on day three felt like entering a warm, familiar village: we all know the grounds, and each other. Sousou & Maher Cissoko eased us into the night with soulful Swedish and Senegalese folk, the soothing sounds of guitar and kora with gentle percussion stretching out our hips for another night of dancing.

I meandered to the smaller stage for Mama C and the Fusion Band. Draped head to toe in dazzling African beads, shells, and kitenge, her deep Southern US accent surprised us. Through singing, spoken word, and bluesy African jamming, she chanted “be love!” while looking directly at crowd members, tapping her heart: “I really feel it in my heart.” The crowd grinned ear to ear. In another song she spoke about freedom and we realized we were in the presence of a wise elder, an activist, a border crosser, a bridge builder who deeply knows music’s healing power. At various points she played a Kenyan nyatiti.

Next, I caught Rwandan artist Kaya Byinshii, whose impactful voice flowed over the mesmerized crowd as she moved theatrically, at one point holding her arms up to that beautiful African sky, artfully weaving through blues, folk, and roots. She asked us to turn to the person beside us: “Look at them, and don’t see color but see that they are just the same as you.”

Back at the main stage, Abdel Grooz took us through Algeria and surrounding regions with stirring Arabic blues tinged with psychedelic Saharan sounds. We automatically removed our shoes, dancing directly in the dust and sand. He switched to Gnawa – a rapid hypnotic tradition merging Sufism with West African roots. This set was a highlight that left the crowd elated.

It unexpectedly began pouring with rain and the crowd huddled under the bar tent, though some embraced it and danced in the downpour. As it slowed to a trickle, we ran over to groove to Hammer Q’s infectious contemporary Taarab fusion, especially popular with locals. A big group of Zanzibari men danced in sync, blowing whistles and pumping up the crowd. The energy combined with refreshing rain was electric, and despite a strict schedule, when the crowd chanted “one more!” they had no choice but to return for an encore.

Finally, another highlight: Lindigo, who were also undeterred by rain. Explosions of complex drum rhythms took us to Reunion Island, with accordion and traditional instruments like Madagascan kabosy, West African balafon, invoking Reunion’s layered history. The band’s invented take on traditional Maloya trance music had us joyfully clapping as they jumped onstage to high-energy live beats and women’s chanting. We trickled out with sore feet, wet heads, and very full hearts.