WORLD WORLDWIDE EUROPE BELGIUM PEER - THE PINK REBEL - By Luc Schrijvers - Part 43 - 12 April 2026.

 The embassies were not immediately enthusiastic, but the musicians themselves were. The pastor of Sint-Amandsberg quickly called me back:

"It's okay!".

We could start! A committee was put together and we were all very much looking forward to it.

Our budget was extremely limited. The musicians' allowance, decorations, program booklets, posters, translators and interpreters for international students... Everything had to be paid for with our very small capital. It was not easy for us to find sponsors for small classical concerts in a church. We couldn't count on the embassies either. But nevertheless we did not hang our heads.

Summer came and it was hot. We couldn't do anything about this: it was just sweltering. Our secretariat was a caravan next to the church. From there we arranged everything. We barely had any sponsors, financially this was a complete flop, but the concerts continued. At the beginning of the Festivities the church was still chilly, but after a few days the heat crept in there too.

Who goes into a hot church to listen to classical music during the Ghent Festivities? Not many people. The turnout was small. Everyone hated the heat and so did this project. Even though there were hardly any people, every musician played so well. The concerts were beautiful. The quality of both the musicians and the supporting technicians was fantastic. I was so proud, I was also so sad, but also so proud. Everyone's effort was world class. I was so sad that I couldn't distribute more proceeds. In three months we had created something beautiful here - even though so few people could have enjoyed it.

I kept doing my best. Working with Charles and Colin, getting enough rest, talking to young people at schools about love, about acceptance, about love between two men, about love between two women. I continued to do my best, as best as I could.

The physical pain did not suddenly start overnight. It grew and slumbered over the years. In the neuro wards, the doctors were mainly concerned with my head and how I felt mentally, but I did say that sometimes I also had physical pain, everywhere. Painkillers helped quite well. Sometimes I also got injections, which numbed all kinds of things for a while. After a few weeks of observation I could move on – back to Brussels to continue doing my thing.

The pains got worse. I needed more and more shots. I no longer felt pain, but I felt strange. I also felt happy.

But also numb.

I learned afterwards that those numbing syringes contained some kind of morphine infusion.

In 2007, many heavy and difficult words were spoken in the hospital. I was diagnosed with “neuropathy”. That name was given to the pain that I started to feel more and more: nerve pain. Burning legs were the beginning. I already had a backpack full of pills that kept me going. Another aid was now added: a neurostimulator. That's a device they placed in my body that helps block the pain signals from my brain. It's a kind of defense mechanism.

“Neuropathy” was not the only heavy word that was used that year.

“Bipolarity” was next.

What is that? I wondered.

It turned out to be a newer name for a condition I had heard of before: “manic depression”. Experiencing periods of high peaks and black, deep valleys: mania and depression.

Highs and lows. Bipolarity: moving from one extreme pole to the other. Highs and lows.

It then also became clear that doctors had already mentioned such a diagnosis in my medical file when I was 23; when I took the sleeping pills.

Never had I heard the name given to my situation, and to my mind - until now.

My backpack with medicine, which I had always carried with me for years, became heavier.

Even more medication, but also more mental baggage. My work at Brussels Jazz Club continued. I kept going. I felt so good here.

I rested as much as I needed to. In 2009, Charles and other employees organized a party in the club, with beautifully intimate jazz concerts. People came together, connected by the love of music, the love of art. They threw this party… for me! I had turned 50. This was an evening that Charles and Colin honored me. In the meantime, I had been working for Brussels Jazz Club for a number of yearsI could have done such meaningful work.

The non-profit organization organized between 50 and 100 concerts per year - each time a young, emerging talent could crawl onto the stage and share his or her art and skills. I could program them, I could give them a stage.

44.