Saturday, May 31, 2014


This song speaks of  the great men , the brave men who made useful things in
this world before they die.
We dedicate it to the fallen heroes who lie in front  . Many brave men rest in  Nyaréla .
Young girls, small children, the children who fought for  the liberation of our homeland lie in Nyaréla .
 The world is sick, it became a fresh onion without seeds.
We have to be united , this union  ensures the smooth running of things.
Talking is difficult, not  talking is difficult , keeping silent is not good , mouth is a source of trouble. . Speech is learned but  it doesn't  force you .In the past, there were kings able to plant a needle , to pray in its shadow or to steal  the saddle of a horse. These kings always exist  but their reign is over. The times of the  generous kings are over.Today there are more enemies except the  rogues.These rascals say that we, the djéli , disturb . In the name of Allah, when we disturb someone, he becomes famous.
The Stories of the sons of Bambara are becoming   more and more  rare.
 less.and less ,those  interested in them
Death is a reality and  resurrection is a lie , however, it does not destroy hope.

* Niarela is a district with a well known cemetery  in Bamako

with Mah Damba : chant.
 Mamaye Kouyaté : ngoni, djembé.
Sidi Modibo Kouyaté : ngoni. Makhan Tounkara : guitare, ngoni. Marna Sissoko : guitare, tamani.
Djeli Madi Kouyaté : balafon. Djoké Sissoko : flé, flûte bambara.
 Djeli Sékou Kouyaté, Assa Sissoko, Mamani Keita, Niama Tounkara, Sadyou Damba : choeurs.

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