Anders Nyberg's blog

Back in Sweden, back to the green, the warm, the lush, the peaceful, the music. Usually those epithets (maybe with the exception of peaceful) is used going in the other direction but this time it is very true for Sweden. It would take a football World Cup for me to miss out on another summer in Klockargården. How incredible peaceful and beautiful it is... My excitement of landing in SA got the blog going and I hope the joy of coming home will keep the blogposts flowing even if I have allowed myself a little summer break. On the topic of homecoming, the first task that awaited me was working with "Stämbandet", a choir from Boston who specializes in Scandinavian music. What a joy to find fellow lovers of our tradition and treasure who travelled far to re-fill their souls with music they love. I told them that the reason why Dalarna had preserved so much of their cultural heritage was not because it was isolated - rather the opposite. The people of Dalarna had always

I first met Evans in Dar es Salaam. I was adjudicating at the finals of the “Musical Crossroads”, a competition bringing together the best young musical talent from all over southern and eastern Africa. Evans played the bass and sang in the winning group from Malawi. They won the first prize, a tour to Sweden, in competition with the best groups from all over Africa. Later I had the joy of hosting him and the group in Rättvik as they performed around the country to full and enthusiastic crowds. Now I meet him in Johannesburg more than ten years later. He is still the kind and intelligent man he was, but the story of his life has caught up with him; he is not a celebrated international artist any longer. After the return to Malawi the group encountered various problems and had to fold. Evans worked as a business consultant, but times were bad with global recession and he was forced to, as so many before him, try his luck in eGoli. From being a celebrated international musician whe

The Beautiful Game. I have just watched my most beautiful World Cup Game. I have not been too prone on giving match commentaries, as they feel too ephemeral even for a blog, but this one I have to make an exception for. After too much time in front of FIFA playstation I jammed Gabriel and the boys into the Volvo, 9 of us in all, and drove out to Rhodes Park, one of these old central Johannesburg parks that still have not gotten a new name. It needs a facelift as well, the dry winterfields left pretty much deserted apart from a flock o doves trying to scrape out a seed or two. After a while another expectant team showed up and we managed to get two eleven's. But first we had to share the shoes. Most in the other team had no shoes at all so they played bare-foot. But some of them had, and in order to get the team ready and equipped they all shared shoes. Those with two gave one to the one's who had none, so when the team lined up most had at least one shoe on one of