Track 1: Apprenti_Sage (“Wise Apprentice/Learning”)
Apprenti_Sage is the album’s opening track. Drawing on the Rwandan tradition of Kwivuga, which literally means bragging, 1key introduces and asserts himself as a poet and as an artist, who terrorizes his enemies! Within the tradition of Rwandan praise poetry there are numerous specialist sub-genres, including the poetry of dynasty, the poetry of farmers, and amahamba (“the praising of cows”). According to 1key: “Kwivuga was everybody’s poetry”. Created and performed by men and boys, kwivuga is about lineage and ego: “it’s about knowing who you are and ensuring that others know too” (1Key). In this case, 1Key identifies himself as the son of his personal hero, his late Grandfather Ngangare Rugambwa.
“I am the only key that opens the doors of mystery so that the deserving ones can enter my world.”
Introducing 1Key, the wise apprentice!
1Key bridges the gap between today and yesterday; between himself as a modern day resident of Kigali and his ancestors as he imagines them. As a multi-lingual poet and recording artist, 1key interweaves Rwandese oral traditions with modern digital technologies, creating a unique contemporary sound which is rooted in tradition. Inspired by the echo of his ancestors’ voices, 1Key aspires to write his life, to describe his view, and to fearlessly leave a message. He tells us: Je suis le message (“I am the message”). We are captivated, intrigued and excited to hear more…
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Song lyrics and translations
Apprenti_Sage (“Wise Apprentice/Learning” [Track 1 on Entre 2 album])
Prod. Barick (Kigali). Vocals: Yego Studio (Kampala); French, Kinyarwanda. |
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[Verse 1] | [Verse 1] |
Les pouces sur mon phone comme sur une manette | I’ve got thumbs on my phone as a controller |
Je joue avec des lettres, je griffonne des textes | Playing with letters, I’m scribbling lyrics |
En fait, depuis que je les pose sur des pages net | In fact, ever since I put them on Internet pages |
Et que j’expose mon âme entre les lignes de mes rimes | And exposed my soul between the lines of my rhymes |
On m’appelle poète; mais est-ce que je mérite ce titre? | They call me a poet; but do I deserve this title? |
Pour être honnête, je préfère quand on m’appelle artiste | To be honest, I prefer to call myself an artist |
Au fond je ne suis qu’un esprit qui cherche sa forme | I am just a spirit seeking its form |
Je suis brut, sans filtre, mes pensées résonnent | I’m raw, unfiltered, my thoughts resonate |
Dans mes écrits, comme sur du papier carbone | In my writings, like carbon paper |
Avant la plume, je les calquais à la mine de graphite | Before the pen, I used to express my thoughts with a pencil |
Qui aurait predit qu’un jour mes ébauches auraient un bon accueil au public? | Who knew that one day my drafts would be well received by the public? |
— | — |
C’est incroyable mais il y a deux décennies | It’s unbelievable that two decades ago, |
On aurait juré que j’étais dyslexique à force de juger mon lexique sur base des dicos amenés en bateaux | One could have sworn that I was dyslexic, judging by my lexicon based on dictionaries brought on boats |
L’apprentissage n’a pas été du gateau | Learning was not a piece of cake |
Apprenti-sage je suis devenu pour éviter les coups de batons | Wise apprentice I had to become to avoid the blow of the cane |
––– | ––– |
— | — |
Que mes aïeux m’excusent pour ma forme sur ce fond | May my ancestors forgive my voice over this background music |
Si je m’exprime mieux dans la langue du colon | If I express myself better in the colonisers’ language |
C’est parce que c’est devenu une culture de survie | It is because it has become a way of survival |
Elle évolue au dépens de la nôtre et on suit, asservis | It evolves at the expense of ours and we follow, enslaved |
Aujourd’hui on se moque des nôtres | Today we make fun of our people |
Quand ils commettent des fautes dans ces langues étrangères | when we make mistakes in these foreign languages |
Et ça me révolte! | And that disgusts me! |
— | — |
Laissez-moi être mélancolique sur ce sample de cithare | Let me be sad on this sample of cithare |
Laissez-moi me noyer dans ce pot de slam, | Let me drown in this pot of slam poetry |
Cet art oratoire de mes ancêtres, c’est tout ce qui me reste | This oral art of my ancestors, that’s all I have left |
Leurs doigts grattent des cordes, les miens gravent des textes | Their fingers strum the strings, mine type lyrics |
Dans leurs notes et les miennes, tu peux lire l’envie de transmettre | In their notes and mine, you can read the urge to pass on |
— | — |
C’est l’écho de leurs voix que j’entend quand les vallées respirent | It is the echo of their voices that I hear when valleys breathe |
Et peut-être pourquoi j’adore écrire le soir, leur mélodie m’inspire | And perhaps why I love writing at night, their melody inspires me |
A écrire ma vie, à décrire ma vue, à conter mon parcours sans peur | to write my life, describe my view, and tell story fearlessly |
Je sais qu’on ne vit pas pour toujours et tout comme eux | I know we do not live forever and just like them |
Je veux laisser un message… | I want to leave a message… |
— | — |
Je suis le message | I am the message |
— | — |
Qui vivra, entendra cette voix venue de nulle part | Whoever lives will hear this voice coming out of nowhere |
Portée par le vent d’un écho ancestral | Carried by an ancestral echo |
— | — |
[Icyivugo] | [Icyivugo] |
Yeeeeee ndi ingangare ku rugamba | Yes! Here I am, I am the strongest in battle |
Mwene Rugambwa simpangarwa ndahangara | Son of Rugambwa, none can challenge me, I challenge them first |
Dore nje mu rukerera nk’igiteroshuma | I attack at dawn as if it’s an ambush |
Sinikanga, sinikinga | I am not intimidated, I do not hide |
Ikaramu narazwe na data ni yo ngabo y’amahina amakuza atagwabizwa | The pen I inherited from my father is my unbreakable shield, my spear |
Iyo mfoye simpusha ababisha bashahurwa n’ubwoba ntaranabegera | I’m a sharp shooter, I don’t miss. My enemies tremble with fear before I even get to them |
— | — |
Abaswa banyumva nk’amahamba | The small-minded don’t understand the intricacies of my poetry |
Ndasiga nkisiga bagasigara basiganuza | When I write I paint stories and leave them speculating about |
Uko mbambura imizingo imirongo igahinduka amashusho | How I can write this much and this good, how my lines become vivid pictures |
Umushyitsi ukabataha mu nda bagahitamo kunyita umunyabufindo | Afraid of my powers, they choose to call me a “magician” |
— | — |
Ndi urufunguzo rumwe rukumbi rurangaza amarembo y’amayobera maze agatahurwa n’inyamibwa mu ndatwa. | I am the only key that opens the doors of mystery so that the deserving ones can enter my world. |