Bujumbura at 8:30 PM
Oh vibrant Bujumbura ma ville,
ville aux merveilles cachées,
land of the resilient,
living earth for the strong,
you’re worth of song in so romantic many ways.
Men of the West come kneeling before you,
exotic child of Africa,
they come questing for a lost paradise,
they cross half a world to meet Tanganyika.
Far in the past,
a valiant king succumbed to your luring
Du fond du lac,
wild spirits came pouring in,
stealing the one and only Mwezi we had,
taking with them the glory of a brave warrior.
Oh vibrant Bujumbura ma ville,
ripe youths stroll down your streets,
under so blue a sky,
under so burning a sun,
sweat-dripping foreheads held high,
as they ride those broke-down buses of yours,
all the way into those age-old bars you kept alive.
Oh vibrant Bujumbura ma ville,
raging night scene,
où l’ambiance règne,
and the sistas dance,
their derrières fuller than the moon,
their hips on the move,
motioning with all that grace,
in the passion of Matata’s Zouk.
Oh vibrant Bujumbura ma ville,
wondrous thing of promise,
home of the Burundian dream,
ejo hawe ni heza.
By Gentle Jess Shaka
