I walk past this park every day when walking my dogs. It’s literally 5 mins from my house.

This Saturday, the park was absolutely heaving, full of people from all ages, dancing to the music from this band from Mali.

The band is Tinariwen, which roughly means “People of the Deserts” in Tamashek. We watched musicians whose lives have involved war, exile, borders and displacement. And when they walked out on stage, thousands of Brazilians roared their welcome.

That feeling was INCREDIBLE.

It was at the music festival that Olinda hosts called MIMO.

When they were introduced, the presenter spoke so enthusiastically about welcoming people from “another corner of the world” to Olinda.

And with that, the whole crowd simply erupted.

I looked around and realised it was probably ten years since I’d stood in that same place watching a concert of this size.

Now, a different generation in the crowd (which is an odd feeling to notice I’ll be honest), and a very different moment in history.

And as I took it all in, I thought: this is what hope looks like.

Thousands of people, most of whom have never been to Mali I would imagine, celebrating people who look different, sound different, and come from a completely different history and culture.

And people weren’t threatened by difference. Instead, they were curious about it and totally energised by it.

Brazil goes to the polls next weekend, and inevitably there is a lot of conversation about what kind of country people want to live in.

Standing in that multigenerational crowd, I couldn’t stop thinking about the kind of world we want to create with one another.

There was nothing more energising than seeing a group of people from the other side of the world, pick up a guitar, and then thousands of strangers genuinely honoured to have them with us.

And this connection happened because of the difference.

There is something profoundly human about that.