He danced like the Zambezi flowing at night.

"Baby, make we go Limpopo!" he sang into my ear.

I laughed and swayed to the beat of the music

"You're beautiful, just like Cleopatra," he said as he looked into my eyes.

"I have never been to Egypt, but I am not in Da-Nile," I replied with a stupid pun as usual.

"I have crossed the Niger though, does that count?" He asked with a raise of an eyebrow.

"Yes, if you were fleeing to Senegal, it does count."

"Nah, I was going to Congo; they have the best Orange juice down there."