I lean over to Chris and I say, "I should totally sing with them."
The band's tinny amp was blasting various hits from the 70s and 80s.
The four of us had spread our pasty white selves over the lounge chairs on the beach overlooking Lake Kivu. It wasn't long before Chris, with a smirk on his face, strolled casually through the sand towards the band's front man. A few minutes later, the two of them had persuaded me to sing with the band.
"You know Frank Sinatra? That Ain't No Sunshine song? Beatles?"
After a quick google search for the lyrics, I'm called up to the grassy stage. I'm nervous and sing shamefully, but the 30 or so people draped over towels in the sand, applaud and smile. It was all I needed.