An the early evening, the light on the streets of Mindelo is golden. It flows slowly from the port into the city, over the concrete skeletons, the fish sellers and cigarette women. It stays there until it gets dark. Then Mindelo will no longer be a poor industrial city far out in the Atlantic. But a Creole palace of the chosen ones. Then a hundred birdsong chirp in the trees, then the musicians tune their cavaquinhos, and in the backyards they drink their first grog. Then you understand the pathos when they say here: The music is the blood in our veins.
Claudia Sofia sings this evening in Metalo, a nice bar in the old town, full of white people, with good cocktails and Strela Kriola, the Cape Verdean beer. The same guests sit for hours under palm trees and bamboo roofs and listen. People who know music or promote music often come here, which doesn’t hurt on an island as remote as São Vicente.