At the beach that day, I saw an old man playing his guitar. I asked the boy that was translating for him if he could play for my group that evening.
There they were at the beach, at exactly eight-thirty sharp besides a beautiful bonfire, ready to perform. For about an hour and a half, the old man played his guitar, using his left foot on his drum. The old man sang about young girls getting married, politics, malaria, domestic violence, among other things.
While he played and sang, the younger kids danced making cool movements, just having fun. At that moment, I remembered the real reasons that took me to Africa: the people, the music, the smells, the food, the scenery, the sunsets, etc. The westerners I was traveling with were only an unnecessary distraction I had to live with.
Unexpectedly, it was at Kande Beach beside the great Lake Malawi that I got back in touch with the African enchantments I was looking for. Losing perspective is the risk you take when traveling with a random group of people.