Some years ago Paul Brady and myself travelled to Dakar, Senegal as guests of Plan International – one of the largest child centred development organizations in the world.
Part of our itinerary was to attend a huge concert in a football stadium featuring some of the finest performers in West Africa – all part of a push to encourage and promote the use of birth certificates.
The thinking was simple. It was common for children in the region to be unregistered, and unregistered children are extremely vulnerable because officially they don't exist. And so people arrived from all over Africa, and from all over the world, with some real heavy hitters flying in to lend support.
It was my first time in Africa. We landed in a power cut and were driven in the pitch dark to our hotel. There was dinner in a restaurant overlooking the Atlantic, and Miriam Makeba – Mama Africa – was at the next table. When the band played the opening chords of Pata Pata she stepped onto the tiny stage and joined in.
It all seemed like a dream, but when the name Harry Belafonte came up in conversation things suddenly became very strange indeed. He’s on his way you know, whispered the man next to me, the UN delegation has just landed at the airport.
I had no idea that Harry was coming to Senegal but the next morning somewhere on the edges of Dakar, I was interviewing the man himself in the back of a car. We talked mostly about The Clancy Brothers and Sean O’Casey and he spoke with great enthusiasm about those theatrical days in Greenwich Village. He was full of fun. Bright eyed and magnetic. Beyond handsome. I just kept thinking about my mother and how amazed she’d be by this most unlikely encounter.
We need your consent to load this YouTube contentWe use YouTube to manage extra content that can set cookies on your device and collect data about your activity. Please review their details and accept them to load the content.Manage Preferences
Towards the end of our conversation, Harry happened to mention that one of his very favourite songs was Paul Brady’s The Island. He raved about it, and about Paul, and when I told him that Brady was back at the hotel he couldn’t quite believe it.
This city of Dakar was clearly a place of coincidence and surprise and so later that evening, in a strange Fermanagh/Tyrone/Harlem summit, I introduced Harry Belafonte to Paul Brady. We sat up late. Very late. It was a magic might and Harry wrote a very nice note to my mother. Some years later on a visit to Dublin, he made a speech in which recalled this chance encounter in West Africa, and Paul sang The Island in his honour.
We need your consent to load this YouTube contentWe use YouTube to manage extra content that can set cookies on your device and collect data about your activity. Please review their details and accept them to load the content.Manage Preferences
Not long ago, after watching the documentary Sing Your Song I sent Harry an email in which I said a few things straight out, in a way that I’d never have managed face to face without embarrassing the both of us. I told him how much I admired him and what an honour it was to have shaken his hand. He thanked me graciously and kindly, and spoke very fondly of Dakar.
I’m glad I wrote that email. I’m very glad I took the opportunity to say what I said.
Harry Belafonte died at his home in Manhattan, April 2023, aged 96.
Mystery Train with John Kelly, RTÉ lyric fm, Mon - Thu @ 7pm - listen back here. The Works Presents with John Kelly, RTÉ One, Thursdays at 11.15pm - watch back here.
