I didn’t know Nat King Cole!
We went to Harlem to listen jazz.
Walking in the street, we found beautiful paintings on the walls. In a small Museum, there was in the hall a word from Muhammad Ali “Me, we”. We stopped in a café. A black women began to speak to us in French! She told us that many people spoke French in Harlem, Senegalian, Togolian, Rwandan. Herself is a Rwandan artist. She advised us to go and listen jazz in a café called Shrine whose the owner is Burkinabé.
Time flies: among the musicians, there were more Whites than Blacks. And the leader was a woman. We spent a good evening. A good thing because the day before, we were desapointed by the cafés in Greenwich Village. Three cafés, three deceptions: music too loud, people who were speaking. We only stayed a few minutes in each…