From Kony 2012 to Moscow, with love

Kony 2012 had been on all week long on Facebook. Seriously, people, why do you share every viral video you see on your social networks without double-checking information?

Ok that's about Uganda, and it made me think of my Moscow trip made possible by "Johnny" from Rwanda.

It was a day like any other in our Brussels office (oh and I sometimes miss this attic overflowing with instruments, old pictures, yellowish newspaper-clips, rolls of  paper for faxes - these were not there anymore - and more STUFF) when we received a phone call from Russia. It was "Johnny" from Moscow, requesting one of our Balkan Brass bands.

From then on, we were talking to Johnny everyday. Not that the negotiation would have been tough. Nothing was a problem for Johnny. Not the travels from Macedonia for 12 people, not the fee (that we had set high, cause well, prejudice made it so that you don't want to do business with unknown promoters unless it is very well paid and paid in advance), not the visas, oh, but the work permits were a problem for it would take too long. Johnny claimed he would send us invitations and with these we could get tourist visas. 

We were reluctant to do that, as twelve gypsies travelling with three tubas and other voluminous instruments aren't exactly discreet, but Johnny had an answer to everything.

Johnny from Moscow spoke very well French... with an African accent. So as we were talking to him so often, my colleague once asked him where he had learned such a good French. And Johnny said he was from Rwanda, that he knew Belgium well, he even had some family in Brussels, but he couldn't travel into EU for a few years already. 

Then there was his agency called "Shree Ganesh Company". And then there was this bank account in Luxembourg from which we had received the first part payment. And then suddenly it was not a concert venue the musicians were supposed to play at, but a wedding, at The Moscow Meridien Country Club Hotel. And it was Russia after all. And then my colleague realised his passport was expired so I had to go as the tour manager instead of him.

I was very excited to go to Moscow, but I was worried too to be trapped in the hands of a war criminal (verified by google) nicknamed "Johnny", working for some mafia people who could arrange false invitations but no official work permits. We were even told by Johnny that the bride and the groom were close to Putin's entourage... I had to promise myself  I would not mention words like Chechnya, Politkovskaia, or even Anna. And I had to promise my mother that I would not drink vodka.

Off was I to Russia...I was so excited to be in Moscow that I actually forgot about my worries as I came out of Domodedovo airport. That didn't last long. 

I was picked up by a rather short man  who couldn't say a word in English. The musicians were arriving by another flight to Sheremetyevo airport so I was alone with this silent driver, his impeccable white suit and white shoes. As we were stuck in Moscow traffic jam, his phone rang and he handed me the cellphone saying: "Johnny!!"

I was happy to hear a familiar voice welcoming me, even though it was the one of a guy condemned by the ICTR  (International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda) - verified by google-, until I hung up and saw the display of the phone showing blinking minarets and Allah written in Arabic. Surprised, I asked him if he spoke Arabic and he just shouted : " TAJIK!

- Oh my... I thought. So I'm in the hands of Russian oil magnates, working with African war criminals AND Tajik terrorists, all related to Putin! I fell asleep in the car. (that's my way out when I'm scared). When I opened my eyes we had arrived before the Meridien Country Club, in the middle of nowhere, 40km from the city, two armed guards were standing in front of the gate, and would let pass only a few cars, all with tinted windows...

I was never as happy to see all the Kocani Orkestar as when I jumped in their arms in the hotel lobby. Now I was not alone anymore. There, we were welcomed by a charming Muscovite hipster who looked like Ivan from the Jack Frost (Morozko -1964) movie: suggestive were not only his clear blue eyes and blond mid-long hair but mostly his fancy light brown suede lace boots.

With him coming up, nothing was a problem, again. We were brilliantly taken care of and accommodated in luxury.

We met the bride and the groom who had this idea of inviting the Kocani orkestar  for their wedding (60 invited guests) after having seen Goran Bregovic at their PR agency's little party...just that. But they were nice, we rehearsed the program: playing while the fireworks starts outside, then walk back to the main party hall, we checked the PA, lights, everything had been planned perfectly.  Dinner was set for us behind the stage, and the table was dominated by a few bottles of vodka.

"I promised not to drink vodka"

Ivan told us the vodka was very good, said he himself was not a vodka drinker and so (consequently) we toasted to the musicians and to the newlyweds. Damn! that vodka was good!

"I promised not to drink vodka, I know the story everyone told me, I'll end up so drunk I won't be able to talk" 

The musicians started to play after dinner, I stayed in the improvised backstage with Ivan. And the bottles of vodka. He explained me something about the quality of this vodka and poured another couple of shots. 

"I promised not to drink vodka, here it is coming..." 

So, hoping this would delay the vodka tsunami, I said that I couldn't drink without getting paid and counting the money because it was not my money and so on. Ivan said it was no problem, left and came back with a thick envelope. I left, counted the thousands,  prepared the musicians envelopes, stored them in my room's safe and came back. As I sat down Ivan smiled : 

"That was it? can we drink now? and I said yes! 

Ivan was pouring one shot after the other, and I have to say it's the best vodka I've ever tasted. Don't ask me for its name, for I don't remember. Was I able to talk as the sun was coming up, maybe yes... in Russian, with love.

The next day, the musicians had to wake me up as they were leaving earlier than me. I still had time to have wonderful Russian пельмени (pelmeni), had no headache (that's what good vodka is about, no matter how much you drink!) and during lunch I told hipster Ivan it was a pity we didn't get to see  Johnny at some point. He looked at me as if I were crazy and said: : "God no! Johnny doesn't come to the events, he's the man that makes all the things happen." 

The last time I heard from "Johnny" was when he sent me an email some five years ago to ask me for Technotronic for another private event. I never got to know if he had only accidentally the same full name as the war criminal from Rwanda, or if it was really him. And as all this Joseph Kony affair revealed he (Kony) was not in Uganda anymore, I thought that he may be as well booking pop stars for some people in Moscow.