We leave places. But some places never really leave us.

In the second part of my journey back to Niger, the memories become quieter — and more difficult.

I remember the simple ritual of arriving in a village: the formal welcome, a bowl of fermented millet passed from hand to hand, and only then the conversation.

But I also remember Niger during the drought and food crisis of 1984 and 1985. I remember mothers trying to get sick children to the nearest health centre, a colleague confronted with the limits of what she could do — and experiences that changed the way I look at something as ordinary as wasting food, even today.

Yet that is only part of the story.

Because Gaya also danced.

The extraordinary Ballet de Gaya brought together music, dance, theatre, humour and magic — a re ...