Tag Archives: translation

Translating (and Transcribing) the Hausa film song Zazzabi [Fever]

Zazzabi

I’m going to do something today that I haven’t done for a long time on this blog, but which is something I originally started this blog to do, and that is to put up some work in progress–a song that I am working on right now in my dissertation–and ask for help from Hausa speakers in correctly translating and transcribing it.

Zazzabi (Fever) directed by Sha’aibu Idris Belaz and produced by Auwalu Madaki (story by Salisu Buldoza) for Sa’a Entertainment in 2005 is one of my favourite Hausa films. And the first song in the movie, sung by Sadi Sidi Sharifai, Ikram Garba Ado, and Sa’a A. Yusuf, has obsessed me since 2006. Yes, that long. (I’ve mentioned and posted it in previous blog posts in November 2009 and just the other day in October 2013). It must have been pretty popular with its audiences too, because the songwriter Sadiq Usman Sale gained his industry nickname from the film: Sadiq Zazzabi.

It’s a story full of twists and turns, so I can’t talk too much about the plot here, in case there is someone who ever wants to see the film (if you can find it anywhere). But, as it becomes clear by the 6th verse of the song, it is a film about love and HIV, but it is no NGO film (thank God). HIV is one of the things that complicates the love between the characters in the love triangle between the characters played by Sani Danja, Mansura Isah, (who ended up marrying in real life) and Ibrahim Maishunku. (Because the characters played by Sani Danja and Mansura Isah are not named in the film, I call them Sani and Mansura here. The character played by Ibrahim Maishunku is named Salim in the film.)

What I LOVE about this song is the ambiguity of the word zazzabi (fever). It can be used in the metaphoric sense as a fever of love, and that is the sense in which the audience would most likely initially interpret word. In Ado Ahmed Gidan Dabino’s bestselling novel In da So da Kauna, for example, the young lover Muhammad writes that he is fleeing Kano to Kaduna

Part 1 of Ado Ahmed Gidan Dabino's bestselling novel In da So da Kauna

Part 1 of Ado Ahmed Gidan Dabino’s bestselling novel In da So da Kauna

because he has been separated from his sweetheart Sumayya, “Ciwon sonta ne ya sa ba zan zauna ba/The sickness of loving her is the reason I won’t stay” (part 1, 85). Sumayya sings on a cassette to Muhammad, that  “In na tuna ka sai na farka daga barci na,/ Ciwon so ya sanya wannan ba komai ba/If I remember you I wake from my sleep/ The sickness of love makes it nothing” (part 1, 71). When she dreams that Muhammad has been killed in an accident she sings, “Ciwon so shi zan kashe ni/ The sickness of love will kill me“[or The sickness of love will make me kill myself] (part 1, 87).

However, the word “zazzabi” can also be used literally here, as a literal fever. Indeed it is when Sani complains about a fever that Mansura suggests he go for a medical check-up–a checkup during which he tests positive for HIV. The song thus layers a literal meaning of the “disease of love” on top of a metaphoric usage, creating a striking and disturbing image of the dangers love brings not only the heart but the body. In Verse 6, Sani comes out and says “Kanjamau cutar a jikina. Lafiya bata dawowa/ AIDS is the disease in my body. Health will not return.”

My attempts to transcribe the song (from the video below) and translate it– the transcription file on my computer dates back to 2009–however, has made me painfully aware of how much more Hausa I still need to learn. Of course, the poetic language of the song makes it a bit more difficult to transcribe than ordinary language. I’ve been sitting here with the R.C. Abraham dictionary, the Bargery dictionary, and the Hausa-Hausa dictionary published a few years ago by Bayero University, sometimes wondering if I have even divided the words correctly when I transcribed–or if the words I have written actually exist. So, I would love help from Hausa speakers and readers in checking 1) the transcription of the words of the song, 2) my translation. As I get corrections, I will try to make corrections on this post. At this point, I am not trying to be very literary in my translation–although I did translate “kauna” as “passion,” even though I know that “kauna” has a much milder connotation, because I felt it fit with the overall meaning of the song. For the most part, I just want it to be accurate. After I feel I have an accurate translation, I may try to make it sound more like poetry in English. But mainly, right now, I want a working translation that I can feel confident working with as I write about the song. At the moment, I probably don’t have the room to include an in depth analysis of the entire song in my dissertation–I’m using the refrain and chorus, which I understand fine. But I’m thinking I’d like to write a separate article on the entire song and the film at some point, and any suggestions people can give me here will help me work towards that goal.

UPDATE: 10 November 2013. Anas Musa just sent me some amazing corrections to my transcription via email, and suddenly it all begins to fall into place. I will make his corrections on the transcription here and keep working on the translation. I am so grateful. He heard words and expressions that I just couldn’t quite get like kwarjini and kamani and furucina and kudurina and burin ruhina and dimaucewa and gane batuna and jin lafazina and akwai uzurina and gurbi and kulli yaumin and hangena and the whole proverbial expression “Mai guri ya zo gurbinsa shinfidarka ka zo ka nade ta” and don in zam in ganta and kuwa ya cancanta and hawaye (instead of ta waye) and Gashi na yi biyu ko daya (rather than Ga shi na bude bako) and Wayyo kaina (rather than Wayyo Allah). As you can see he’s made a huge difference! I’m still working on the translation. It’s rough but a lot cleaner now that I can actually hear what words they are saying.

I will post the video and my transcription below that. The cinematography is rather grey and uninspiring, but the song is brilliant. Please note that the video is included in this blog post as part of fair use policies for review purposes:

Zazzabi

Fever

 by Sadiq Usman Sale (ie. Sadiq Zazzabi)

Refrain:

Sani:  Zazzabi ya sauka jikina, Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi, Ciwon so, ciwon kauna,

 A Fever has come to my body, Fever so hot. Fever of love, fever of passion,

Salim:  Zazzabi shi ne a jikina

A Fever is what is in my body

Female back up Chorus:  Zazzabi ya kama masoya, zazzabi ciwo mai zafi. Ciwon so. Ciwon kauna. Zazzabi ciwo mai kuna.

A fever has caught the lovers, A fever so hot,Fever of love, fever of passion, A fever that burns

Mansura:  Zazzabi ya sauka  jikina, Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi, Ciwon so, ciwon kauna, Zazzabi shi ne a jikina

Fever has come to my body, Fever so hot. Fever of love, fever of passion, A Fever is what is in my body

Verse 1

Sani: A gaskiya ciwon kaunarki, a tuntuni shi yake kamani.

Truly, lovesickness for you captured me long ago.

Female backup Chorus: Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi

Fever so hot

Sani: In na zo, wurin ji a gareki. Kwarjini shi yake kamani.

If I come to hear it from you. I am overcome with shyness.

Chorus: Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi

Fever so hot

Sani: Ina tsoron furucinki, shi ya sa jinkiri a gareni

I fear what you will say, that’s what made me delay

Chorus: Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi

Fever so hot

Sani: Kin ji, dai, dukkan kudurina, ya a bar burin ruhina

Hear my great passion for you, oh my deepest soul’s desire.

Chorus: Zazzabi ya kama masoya, zazzabi ciwo mai zafi. Ciwon so. Ciwon kauna. Zazzabi ciwo mai kuna.

A fever has captured the lovers, A fever so hot. Fever of love. Fever of passion. Fever of scorching heat.

Verse 2:

Sani: Ki amince da ni, don Allah, kar ki sa ni na dimaucewa.

Trust me, for God’s sake, don’t let me lose my mind.

Chorus: Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi

Fever so hot.

Sani: So da kauna abin girmamawa, kin ga shine tushen kowa….

Love and passion is an inestimable thing, you know it is the root of us all… 

Chorus: Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi

Fever so hot.

Sani: Na nutso kogin kaunarki ko dagowa bana yowa

I am drowning in a river of your love, I can’t come up out of it.

Chorus: Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi

Fever so hot.

Sani: Nai jiran amsa a gareki don kuwa duk kin gane batuna.

I wait for your answer, so that you understand all that I’ve said.

Chorus: Zazzabi ya kama masoya, zazzabi ciwo mai zafi. Ciwon so. Ciwon kauna. Zazzabi ciwo mai kuna.

A fever has caught the lovers, a fever so hot. Sickness of love, sickness of passion, Fever a sickness that burns.

Verse 3:

Mansura: Na ji dukka batunka bayani, to, tsaya don jin lafazina. 

I’ve heard all, all of what you’ve said. To, stop now and listen to me. 

Chorus: Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi

Fever so hot.

Mansura: Tun ada, tun tun na fahimta kai kana kauna a garena.

For long, I’ve understood that you love me

Chorus: Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi

Fever so hot.

Mansura:  Gaskiya ni da kai soyayya, ba na yi don akwai uzurina.

In truth, I have my reasons not to agree to love between me and you.

Chorus: Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi.

Fever so hot.

Mansura: Babu gurbi cikin ruhina sam… Salim shi ne a gabana

There’s no place in my heart. Salim, hes the one in my future now.

Chorus: Zazzabi ya kama masoya, zazzabi ciwo mai zafi. Ciwon so. Ciwon kauna. Zazzabi ciwo mai kuna.

It’s a fever that captures lovers, Fever so hot. Sickness of passion. Sickness of love. Fever a sickness that burns.

 

Verse 4

Mansura: Alkawari, ni da shi mun dauka duk wuya bama canzawa.

It’s a promise he and I have made each other. No matter the difficulty we won’t change.

Chorus: Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi.

Fever so hot.

Mansura: Son Salim, shi ne a gabana, kulla yaumin na ke ta tunawa

My love for Salim is before me,  I’m always thinking [of him].

Chorus: Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi

Fever so hot.

Mansura: So da kaunarsa ke ta bugawa zuciyata suke rayawa.

Love and passion are throbbing my heart to life again.

Chorus: Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi

Fever so hot.

Mansura: Son Salim shi ne hangena har ke loda harkar ganina.

Love for Salim is what I see from a far, it fills my vision.

Instrumental Interlude

 Refrain

Salim: Zazzabi ya sauka jikina, Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi. Ciwon so, ciwon kauna, zazzabi shi ne a jikana.

A fever has entered my body, A fever so hot. A sickness of love, a sickness of passion. A fever, that’s what’s in my body.

Mansura:  Zazzabi ya sauka jikina, Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi. Ciwon so, ciwon kauna, zazzabi shi ne a jikana

A fever has entered my body, A fever so hot. A sickness of love, a sickness of passion. A fever, that’s what’s in my body.

Chorus:  Zazzabi ya kama masoya, zazzabi ciwo mai zafi. Ciwon so. Ciwon kauna. Zazzabi ciwo mai kuna.

A fever has captured the lovers, a fever so hot. A sickness of love, a sickness of passion. A fever of scorching heat.

Verse 5:

Salim: Mai guri ya zo gurbinsa shinfidarka kazo ka nade ta

The longing lover has met his fate. Here’s your mat, come roll it up.

Chorus: Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi.

Fever so hot.

Salim: Ga ni gefen abar kaunata, in tsaya don in zam in ganta.

See me here by the side with my heavy love, I’ve paused here to stay and see her.

Chorus: Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi.

Fever so hot.

Salim: Zo mu je lambunmu na kauna, mu shige, don kuwa ya cancanta

Come let’s go to our garden of love, let’s enter it, because it is befitting.

Chorus: Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi.

Fever so hot.

Salim: Kai ku sai ka tsaya, bisa nan gun ke da shi, ku yi bankwana

You just have to stop all the familiarity you have with him,  you must say goodbye

Chorus:  Zazzabi ya kama masoya, zazzabi ciwo mai zafi. Ciwon so. Ciwon kauna. Zazzabi ciwo mai kuna.

Fever has captured the lovers. Fever so hot. Fever of love, Fever of passion. Fever of scorching heat.

Verse 6

Sani: Yau ina kuka da hawaye sai takaice nake ta tunawa.

Today I am weeping hot tears, I keep thinking of my loss…

Chorus: Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi

Fever so hot.

Sani: Ga shi na yi biyu ko daya babu rayuwata nake tausayawa

See, I have nothing, I pity my life.

Chorus: Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi

Fever so hot.

Sani: Kanjamau cuta a jikina. Lafiya bata dawowa

AIDS is the disease in my body. Health will not return

Chorus: Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi

Fever so hot.

Sani:  Rayuwata tana watakila mutuwa ko yau a wurina

I face the end of my life, maybe even today.

Chorus: Zazzabi ya kama

Fever has captured

Sani: Wayyo kaina,

Chorus: masoya, zazzabi ciwo mai zafi.

Lovers. Fever so hot

Sani: Wayyo Allahna

Chorus:  Ciwon so. Ciwon kauna. Zazzabi ciwo mai kona.

Fever of love. Fever of passion. Fever that burns.

Refrain

Mansura: Zazzabi ya sauka jikina, Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi. Ciwon so, ciwon kauna, zazzabi shi ne a jikana.

Fever has come to my body. Fever so hot. Fever of love, fever of passion, Fever is in my body.

Sani: Zazzabi ya sauka jikina, Zazzabi ciwo mai zafi. Ciwon so, ciwon kauna, zazzabi shi ne a jikana.

Fever has come to my body. Fever so hot. Fever of love, fever of passion, Fever is in my body.

Chorus: Zazzabi ya kama masoya, zazzabi ciwo mai zafi. Ciwon so. Ciwon kauna. Zazzabi ciwo mai kuna.

This fever has captured the lovers. Fever so hot. Fever of love. Fever of passion. Fever that burns.

Words Without Borders features African Women writing in Indigenous Languages

screenshot from the Words Without Borders October edition

screenshot from the Words Without Borders October edition

The October 2013 issue of translation journal Words Without Borders focuses on African Women writing in indigenous languages. The magazine has an impressive pedigree. Check out this statement from their “about” page, for example:

Every month we publish eight to twelve new works by international writers. We have published works by Nobel Prize laureates J.M.G. Le Clézio and Herta Müller and noted writers Mahmoud DarwishEtgar KeretPer PettersonFadhil Al-AzzawiW.G. Sebald, and Can Xue, as well as many new and rising international writers. To date we have published well over 1,600 pieces from 119 countries and 92 languages.

I am encouraged that they are drawing attention to the literature being written in African languages that often falls below the radar. Please check out their latest issue.  

I wrote a mini-review of the issue in my column this week, which you can read on the Weekly Trust site, the All Africa site, or copied below, with links and photos, on my blog.

Words Without Borders Draws Attention to African Women Writing in Indigenous Languages

BY CARMEN MCCAIN, 12 OCTOBER 2013

The online translation journal Words Without Borders, which has published English-language translations of creative work in 92 languages from 119 different countries since it started in 2003, has devoted its October 2013 issue to African women writing in indigenous languages.

The special issue, which also includes never-before-seen translations of Chilean poet Pablo Neruda’s poetry, features fiction translated from Hausa, Luganda, Runyankole-Rukiga, Tigrinya, and a non-fiction essay which includes translations of Wolof songs. In an African literary landscape where English-language literature often dominates discussions, this is a refreshing and important contribution. Because the journal is online and free, it is accessible to anyone in the world to read, and several of the stories have a bilingual version, where you can read the original and the English translation side by side. (See the English translation of “Baking the National Cake” side by side with the Runyankole-Rukiga original and the English translation  “My New Home” side by side with the Luganda original).

Rahma Abdul Majid (courtesy of Ibrahim Sheme’s blog Bahaushe Mai Ban Haushi)

Closest to home is Ibrahim Malumfashi’s translation of the first chapter of Nigerian author Rahma Abdul Majid’s massive Hausa novel Mace Mutum. This timely English translation comes close on the heels of the “child marriage” debate in Nigeria. [I've previously reviewed Balaraba Ramat Yakubu's novel Wa Zai Auri Jahila, which also deals with the theme of young marriage.] In the opening of the novel, which is set in a rural village, an eight year old girl Godiya narrates, “My father, a farmer, has three wives. The only difference between our compound and others is that our household is not a kid factory; my father has only three children, while most of his compatriots boast a complete Barcelona team against Real Madrid, excluding the reserve.” Godiya tells her sister Lami’s story in this opening chapter, a girl who at fourteen is considered by gossips to be “old goods” until her father bestows her on a “haggard old” itinerant Qur’anic teacher. By the end of the chapter Godiya is nine and has seen girls die in childbirth and aunties divorced for being late with the cooking. What will she do

Professor Ibrahim Malumfashi, December 2012, Kaduna. (c) Carmen McCain

Professor Ibrahim Malumfashi, December 2012, Kaduna. (c) Carmen McCain

when she hears her parents talking about marrying her off as well? While I do not have the original Hausa novel on hand to compare it with the translation, Professor Malumfashi successfully carries the story over into English. I wonder whether the vocabulary used by the young characters is not sometimes too sophisticated for their age and level of education? Fourteen year old Lami, for example, in one of her soliloquies about the suffering of women, complains about the “Herculean task of taking care of another man’s household.” However, on the whole, the angry tone of the narrative reminds me of the novels of Egyptian novelist Nawal El Saadawi, whose Arabic novels available in English translation harshly chronicle the abuse, disrespect, and violence against women in Egyptian society. I’m so glad Professor Malumfashi has made Rahma Abdul Majid’s work available to English speakers.

Glaydah Namukasa (Photo Credit: Winston Barclay, Flickr, used by permission)

Ugandan author Glaydah Namukasa’s story “My New Home” translated from Luganda by Merit Ronald Kabugo is similarly narrated by an impoverished child, the young boy Musika. He begins his narrative: “I started drinking alcohol the day I fell into Maama’s womb. Maama died of alcohol. She started drinking young and died young. She drank too much alcohol until she could no longer drink; and then the alcohol in her body started drinking her up until she dried up dead.” Alcohol drives the conflict in the story. Musika hates his grandmother and adores his grandfather. His unreliable childish descriptions paint a portrait of a woman, Jjaja Mukyala, who is afraid her grandson will merely follow the footsteps of the other drunks in the family. Musika describes how Jjaja Mukyala resents him because she thinks he reflects badly on her dead son, who conceived him with a bar maid while drunk. She also hates Musika to accompany his grandfather Mukulu to bars. But Musika loves how tender Mukulu is when he is drunk. “Mukulu was drunk when he told me that he loved

Dr. Merit Ronald Kabugo (courtesy of Words Without Borders)

me, drunk when he told me that Maama loved me, that Maama’s friends Aunty Lito, Aunty Karo, and Aunty Naki, who took turns taking care of me after Maama died, all loved me. Every time he is drunk he tells me he is glad he has a grandson.” Musika ends up wondering “How can alcohol be so bad and so good? Every day Jjaja Mukyala shouts, ‘If there is anything that will kill you it will be alcohol.’ But Mukulu says that if there is anything that keeps him alive, it is alcohol. How can alcohol be so bad as to kill Maama, and yet so good as to keep Mukulu alive?” “My New Home” is beautifully written and beautifully translated. I’d love to read more translations of Namukasa’s work.

I found Eritrean author Haregu Keleta‘s story “The Girl who Carried a Gun,” translated from Tigrinya by Charles Cantalupo and Rahel Asgedom Zere, the most haunting of the fiction published here. As in Mace Mutum, the narrator’s family is trying to force her into a marriage with a man she does not love. She runs off to Ethiopia to join the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front, hoping to meet up again with her childhood sweetheart. In the meantime, she becomes a strong and fearless fighter. “… a few months of military training made my soft

Charles Cantalupo (courtesy Penn State)

body hard. I had muscles. My skin grew darker. I could run up and down the mountains. I sprinted over the sand. The oppression of Eritrea and especially of its women changed me into a fighter–far from a girl who was afraid to go outside.” Yet while the freedom fighters talk “about the oppression of women,” the actions of the men she fights with are not always consistent with their ideology, and she faces betrayal and disappointment. Despite her sacrifice to “liberate” her country, her family sees her only in terms of her body, caring only about whether she is married or has had a child. Keleta, who herself is a former member of the independence struggle in Eritrea, ironically invokes the double bind women find themselves in.

Hilda Twongyeirwe (courtesy of UGPulse Literature)

The final story “Baking the National Cake” by Ugandan author Hilda Twongyeirwe, translated from Runyankole-Rukiga by Juliet Kushaba, is quite different from the others in its opulent political setting and third person narration. The story describes the inner struggle of David, the Minister for the Presidency in a fictional African nation who “covers the tracks” of the hedonistic president and vice president: “They leave for two-day conferences and stay away for weeks. It

Juliet Kushaba (courtesy Transcultural Writing)

is David that ensures that the accounts are balanced to include the nonofficial days.” Although he is tired of their shenanigans he finds himself caught ever more tightly in the political web of the despised Vice President. The story was written originally in Runyankole-Rukiga, but the politics of it feel familiar.

Marame Gueye (courtesy East Carolina University)

The last “African” piece is a nonfiction essay in English, “Breaking the Taboo of Sex in Songs: the Laabaan Ceremony” by Marame Gueye that analyzes the sexual language in Wolof songs sung by women during the Laaban ceremony that is a part of Wolof weddings.

The journal importantly showcases writing in African languages often neglected in wider discussions of African literature. Ironically, however, in seeking out these stories, it also demonstrates another problem. Although there are thousands of works in Hausa, as well as literary communities working in Amharic, Arabic, Swahili, Shona, Yoruba and other African languages, Words Without Borders seems to have had trouble finding translations it could publish for this issue, despite a call for submissions put out months in advance. While most of its issues feature eight to twelve pieces that speak to its theme, only four translated works from African languages and one nonfiction essay written mostly in English were published here. It seems to me that this highlights the striking need for literary translators from and into African languages.

I hope several things come out of this issue: 1) An awareness on the part of those who talk about African literature that African literature goes much deeper than literature written in English or French (or even Portuguese); 2) An awareness on the level of writers who write in English but who are fluent in African languages that translation is an important contribution to African letters and that there are well-respected venues for publishing translations; 3) An awareness on the part of writers writing in indigenous languages that while the primary audience may be the most important, as it should be, that there are wider global audiences that could benefit from reading such work; 4) An awareness on the part of institutions that financial and infrastructural support for publication and translation would be a great boon to African literature. Overall, we need to see more interaction between writers in African languages and European languages and more support on the continent for both African language literature and translations.

Hajiya Balaraba Ramat Yakubu’s novel Alhaki Kuykuyo Ne/Sin is a Puppy Published in translation by Blaft

Exciting news! Indian publisher Blaft has published an English translation, by Aliyu Kamal, of Balaraba Ramat Yakubu’s 1990 novel Alhaki Kuykuyo Ne. Aliyu Kamal is a professor in the English Department at Bayero University and a prolific novelist in his own rightSee Blaft’s blog post on the release, where they give this blog a shout out. Hard copies can be ordered from their site, and ebooks for Kindle and epub ($4.99) are also available. To read the first chapter for free, click here. (Update 9 November 2012: Two Indian news sites have also published articles about the novel and the influence of Indian films on Hausa culture: Dhamini Ratnam writes “Filmi Affair in Nigeria” for the Pune Mirror (and briefly quotes me) and Deepanjana Pal writes “How Bollywood fought for the Nigerian Woman “for Daily News and Analysis. I’m not sure Sin is a Puppy… is the best novel to use as evidence of Indian films on Hausa culture, but I’m delighted at the attention the novel is receiving in India.) (UPDATE 8 March 2013: You can read my review of the novel published by Weekly Trust and find links to a lot of other reviews of the novel on my blog here.)

Hajiya Balaraba Ramat Yakubu was one of the earliest authors of what came to be known as the soyayya Hausa literary movement or Kano Market Literature. While these books were often disparaged by critics as romance novels and pulp, Hajiya Balaraba’s novels are often muck-raking exposes of abuses that occur in private domestic spaces and make a case for women’s education and independence. Other soyayya books tell love stories from the perspective of Hausa youth and tales of the home from the perspective of women.

Alhaki Kuykuyo Ne, one of Hajiya Balaraba’s most popular and critically acclaimed novels, tells the story of the family of businessman Alhaji Abdu and his longsuffering wife Rabi, the domestic fireworks that explode when he decides to marry the “old prostitute” Delu as a second wife, and the stories of his children as they make their way in the world with only the support of their mother.

When I first read the book in Hausa in 2006, I described it as follows:

Like many Hausa novels, the title is part of a proverb: “crime is like a dog”… (it follows it’s owner). When the wealthy trader Alhaji Abdu marries an “old prostitute,” as a second wife, his family goes through a crisis. After a fight between the uwargida and her children and the new wife, Alhaji Abdu kicks his first wife and her ten [nine because Alhaji Abdu kept one daughter from another marriage] children out of his house, denies them any kind of support, and refuses to even recognize any of them in chance meetings on the street or when his eldest daughter gets married. What was initially a disaster for the abandoned wife Rabi becomes a liberating self-sufficiency. Supporting her children through cooking and selling food, she is able to put her eldest son through university and see the marriage of her eldest daughter to a rich alhaji. The book follows the story of Rabi, as she makes a life apart from marriage, and her daughter Saudatu, as she enters into marriage.

I have read the translation by Aliyu Kamal and I intend to post a longer review in the next few weeks. The novel was adapted into a film Alhaki Kwikwiyo Ne directed by Abdulkareem Muhammed in 1998. Novian Whitsitt has discussed the novel in his PhD dissertation (2000), Kano Market Literature and the Construction of Hausa-Islamic Feminism: A Contrast in Feminist Perspectives of Balaraba Ramat Yakubu and Bilkisu Ahmed Funtuwa, and his article, “Islamic-Hausa Feminism and Kano Market Literature: Qur’anic Reinterpretation in the Novels of Balaraba Yakubu.” Professor Abdalla Uba Adamu has written about the screen adapatation in his book Transglobal Media Flows and African Popular Culture: Revolution and Reaction in Muslim Hausa Popular Culture and in a paper you can access online, “Private Sphere, Public Wahala: Gender and Delineation of Intimisphare in Muslim Hausa Video Films.”

As far as I know, this is the first time a full translation of a soyayya novel has been published internationally. An excerpt of Alhaki Kuykuyo Ne translated by William Burgess was published in Readings in African Popular Fiction, edited by Stephanie Newell, but Aliyu Kamal’s full translation, while it has a few issues, is much better–not quite so stiff. That is not to say there have been no other translations of Hausa literature. There are translations of the works of early authors like Abubakar Imam’s Ruwan Bagaja/The Water of Cure, Muhammadu Bello Wali’s Gandoki,  the first prime minister of Nigeria Abubakar Tafawa Balewa’s Shaihu Umar, Munir Muhammad Katsin’as Zabi Naka/Make Your Choice and others. Ado Ahmad Gidan Dabino’s bestselling novel In da So da Kauna (The two part novel sold over 100,000 copies) was translated as The Soul of My Heart,  but unfortunately, although the cover illustration (pictured here) was beautiful, the translation was exceedingly bad. It cut a charming novel that was over 200 pages down to about 80, turned witty banter into cliches, and translated out most of the dialogue Gidan-Dabino is so good at. The book needs to be re-translated, this time properly. I attempted to translate Gidan Dabino’s novel Kaico!, (an excerpt of the first chapter was published by Sentinel here), but stopped because of lack of time and because I felt like my translation was still too stiff and I needed to immerse in the language a little longer before attempting more translations. As the editorial of Nigerians Talk today pointed out, we need much more focus on translation in Nigeria.

[...] Hausa literature thrives. An old post on Jeremy Weate’s blog explores the disconnect between the idea of a thriving market selling up to “hundreds of thousands of copies” and a country that lives with a consensus that the Hausa don’t have a living literary establishment. Where are the top Hausa writers. How much of the content of their literature makes it into translation and out as a truly accessible text by other non-Hausa speakers? Where is the wall separating those work from the larger body of consumers all around Nigeria? What are the benefits and implications of this insularity that keeps a story locked only within a language medium, away from every other? And what is the value of such literature if it serves only a localized audience. What happened to universality? We won’t know any of this without active involvement of translators, and other conscious literary practitioners bringing us to the stories, and the stories to us. Like Achebe said, “my position…is that we must hear all the stories. That would be the first thing.”

I am very grateful to Blaft for initiating this translation and publication and hope that it will follow this novel with many more. The challenge will be finding translators. As I have said in a previous talk, I wish every Nigerian writer of English who spoke Hausa well would commit to translating at least one  Hausa novel, so as to bring this literature to a larger public. And while I am excited that, as Blaft notes

It’s also, we believe, the first time a translation of an African-language work has ever been published first in India. We like the idea of South-South literary exchange, and we wish this sort of thing would happen more often.

I hope that some of Nigeria’s publishers will take up the challenge to create their own translation imprints.

In the meantime, a big congratulations to Hajiya Balaraba. Here’s hoping that the rest of her novels will be translated soon! Stay tuned for a longer review of

Hajiya Balaraba Ramat Yakubu. (c) Sunmi Smart-Cole

the novel itself.

For more articles and information on Hausa soyayya literature, see these links:

Interview with novelist Hajiya Balaraba Ramat Yakubu.

Interview with the first female novelist to publish a novel in Hausa, Hafsat Ahmed Abdulwahid.

Interview with novelist Bilkisu Funtua.

Interview with novelist Sa’adatu Baba Ahmed.

Hausa Popular Literature database at School of Oriental and African Studies

“Hausa Literary Movement and the 21st Century” by Yusuf Adamu

“Between the Word and the Screen: a hisorical perspective on the Hausa literary movement and the home video invasion” by Yusuf Adamu

“Hausa popular literature and the video film: the rapid rise of cultural production in times of economic decline” by Graham Furniss

“Loud Bubbles from a Silent Brook: Trends and Tendencies in Contemporary Hausa Prose Writing” by Abdalla Uba Adamu

“Islamic Hausa Feminism Meets Northern Nigerian Romance: the Cautious Rebellion of Bilkisu Funtuwa” by Novian Whitsitt

“Parallel Worlds: Reflective Womanism in Balaraba Ramat Yakubu’s Ina Son Sa Haka” by Abdalla Uba Adamu

Hausa Writers Database (in Hausa)

My blog post on a (mostly Hausa) writers conference in Niger

My translated excerpt of Ado Ahmad Gidan Dabino’s novel Kaico! published in Sentinel Nigeria

The beat-up cover of my working copy of Kaico! (complete with little kid pencil scribbles)

I’m behind on this blog, and there is much more to post, including my trip to Lagos and Yenegoa, for a “Reading Nollywood” conference and the AMAA awards. (For an excellent post on AMAA, see my friend Bic Leu’s blog, which uses a lot of the photos I took while there.) But, in the meantime, here is a link to an excerpt of my translation-in-progress of Ado Ahmad Gidan Dabino’s novel Kaico! that was published in the March 2011, Issue 5 of Sentinel Nigeria Online.

The excerpt comes from the first chapter of the novel, which I have completed three (rough) chapters of so far. In addition to needing to finish translating the entire novel, the translation of the three chapters I have completed still need a lot of polishing and editing. But I do appreciate Sentinel Editor, Richard Ali being so committed to start featuring translations of African-language works that he urged me to send this in as is.

Ado Ahmad Gidan Dabino is the bestselling author of In Da So Da Kauna, a Hausa language novel that sold over 100,000 copies. Winner of the 2009 Engineer Mohammad Bashir Karaye Prize in Hausa Literature for his play Malam Zalimu, he is also a founding member of the Hausa film industry, and has produced or directed sixteen films in Hausa, including his most recent Sandar Kiwo, which has been shown internationally.

Here is an excerpt from the excerpt:

On Monday, the 23rd day of Ramadan, after we broke fast, my good friend Kabiru visited our house. I saw him as he came into the room, and I quickly got up and grabbed his hand.
“Kai, look who we have here in town today. Kabiru, ashe, are you around? Long time no see!” I said, holding on to his hand.
As we sat down, Kabiru said, “I traveled for a week, that’s why you haven’t seen me. You know that if I hadn’t traveled, it would have been hard to go for seven days without seeing you.”
“I was thinking maybe the fasting was keeping you from going anywhere,” I answered. “You know how the fasting wears you out when the sun is beating down.”
“Well, the sun may be hot, but there’s no sun at night. I was told that you came to my house looking for me while I was gone. Have you forgotten?”
“Oh, I know. I just asked to see what you would say.” We both smiled.
Kabiru looked at me. “Oho, so you want to catch me out, do you?”
“Ai, well, that’s why you should marry relatives. They know you. You know them. If you take the bait, it’s not my fault,” I laughed.
“Ok, well, jokes aside. I have something important I want to talk to you about.”
“I’m listening. What’s up?” I tilted my head to one side to listen.

***

Unfortunately, the English translation published by Sentinel extends beyond the Hausa that was also given, and I have currently misplaced my copy of the book, but as soon as I find it, I will put up the Hausa portion of this excerpt for a side-by-side comparison. To read more, see the Sentinel site.

Hausa novelist Ado Ahmad Gidan Dabino and (translator) Carmen McCain in his office, August 2005.

Hausa rapper Ziriums releases album “This is Me” and music video single online. Lyrics included here.

Ziriums performs “Hausa Fulani” at the 2010 Savannah International Movie Awards in Abuja (c) Carmen McCain

Barka da sallah! Happy Eid, everyone!

For a Sallah gift to yourself, consider buying and downloading, Zirium’s new album “This is Me”!

Readers may remember my previous posts, an analysis of the song “Government Money” and a translation of an interview in Aminya, on the Hausa rapper Ziriums, whose satirical “Girgiza Kai” (“Shake Your Head”) was banned by the Kano State government.

Having started his musical career in Kano, collaborating with Hausa entertainers like Adam Zango, Abbas Sadiq, Billy-O, Alfazazi, Osama bin Music, and others, Ziriums was featured on CNN in August 2008.  Ziriums moved to Abuja in 2009, where he collaborated with Abuja-based musicians Yoye, S. Solar, T-Rex, and others. His contribution to S. Solar and T-Rex’s song “Government Money” helped turn a Nigerian version of Busta-Rhymes “Arab Money” into, what I argue is, a  subversive  piece that critiques the corrupt money-obsessed culture of Abuja. Ziriums has performed at the pre-parlour music festival in Niamey, Niger, at Kano’s British council, at Ceddi Plaza in Abuja, and the Savannah International Movie awards, as well as other locations. He is also featured in Saman Piracha and Alex Johnson’s upcoming documentary Recording a Revolution.

Now Ziriums has released online his own album, “This is Me,” named for the track he released as a single music video about a month before. I think Ziriums may be the first Hausa hiphop musician or even contemporary Hausa musician to have released his album for sale online. (There is a sampler of other Hausa hiphop and popular music available for free at dandali.com, put together by the brilliant and prolific Hausa popular culture scholar Professor Abdalla Uba Adamu, which includes songs by Billy-O, Soultan Abdul, Abdullahi Mighty, Menne, Lakal Kaney, Neba Solo, and the “traditional” musician Dan Maraya Zamfara [actual name is Babangida Kakadawa].) Ziriums’ album, This is Me, is available for purchase (for those with credit cards) on on itunesmyspace, and amazon (UPDATE 10 September 2010, the amazon link I originally included is for the U.S., but you can also buy the album at amazon.co.uk and I imagine other national amazon sites. Just search for “Ziriums”). I bought the album from Amazon.com and it downloaded just fine (though very slowly on my internet here in Nigeria. You can also listen to a clip of and buy  “Vamoose,” the song he performed with Yoye and Sunny Man from the “Take Over” mix album. It is track 10.)

When I asked Ziriums how those in Nigeria, without credit cards, could access the album, he told me he is planning to soon release it on cd in Nigeria, but hoping to make capital from the online purchases before the pirates can get a hold of it. He also told me that he released the album online, because no one could censor material online, as they had censored “Girgiza Kai” from the radio and later banned it, unless they literally blocked the website from every browser in Kano. The songs can be listened to in their entirety on Zirium’s myspace album page. (Ziriums noted that several of the songs were by other musicians, but, as he had featured in them, he had gotten their permission to include them on his album. This includes one of my favourites, track 3, “Murja Baba” by Alfazazee, featuring Ziriums, Murja Baba, and Maryam Fantimoti; the songs in Fulfulde Ziriums sang with Tasiu;the song “Muyanata” by Osama bin Music, Zirium’s younger brother, on which Ziriums featured alongside Abdullahi Mighty, Shaga, and Ontos. “Kano ta Dabo,” was sung by Ziriums, Billy-O, and Adam Zango, when they formed the group Northern Soldiers)

During a July 2009 interview with Saman Piracha and Alex Johnson, where I was also present, he talked a little bit about the album he hoped to release and his struggle with censorship in Kano . I was given permission by the filmmakers to transcribe and post on this blog what he said:

“Maybe they are going to ban it as well, but I’m sure it is going to be on internet, my myspace address, my facebook address, and it is going to be on Bluetooth […] Bluetooth is the fastest way we use to spread our message. Because they will not air our songs on their radio stations. I can remember the time I finished “Girgiza Kai, the one they banned. I took it to radio stations; they played it once, you know. From the censorship board, they wrote a letter to them, you should not play this song again, you understand? And they stopped airing it. And from that day, no one aired my song again and later now they banned it. I think Bluetooth helps us a lot because I can put it on my phone. My friend will listen to it and say oh give me and I’ll push it to him. Then through that, it will go all over, all over, not even Nigeria, not even Kano, not even Nigeria, itself. It can go anywhere. Because now if I put it in your handset you carry it to the US. […]  I’m going to release my album.  I’m working on it. And when I finish it, maybe probably it is going to be sold in Kano. We’ll see how I will go behind the national constitution. I’ll go there and stand and use it. Because I am a Nigerian as well. Since Timaya and P-Square can sell their album in Kano, why not I? Why? Why can’t my album be sold in Kano?  I must censor it? Who said so? I will not do that? I’m looking at myself as Timaya and P-Square and any damn artist in the country. I’m looking at myself as the same thing as them. We don’t have any differences. The only difference is that they have their albums outside. People know them. You understand? They have the opportunity that we couldn’t get. If I have the opportunity or the chance they have, I could have reached or I could have passed their level. So my album is going to be sold in Kano insha Allah. With censors or without censors.

To learn more about Ziriums, visit Zirium’s myspace page. Two of his music videos can also be watched at his youtube channel. Ziriums also has a Facebook fan page and a ReverbNation account. [UPDATE 13 September 2010: And in a meta-moment, I'm quite delighted to see that Free Muse has picked up on this post....]

I may include more analysis of the album at a later point, but for now, so that readers can get a taste of his music, I will include Zirium’s hot new music video “This is Me,” including the lyrics and a translation, partially by me, partially by Ziriums, and partially by Professor Abdalla Uba Adamu. I will also include the complete lyrics to “Girgiza Kai” and the translation I did with Ziriums back in February 2009.  Ziriums’ “twisting” in Hausa has a punch that isn’t quite comparable with anything else in contemporary Nigerian hiphop, and I suspect it will take him far.

Enjoy

[NOTE that this video is embedded in this post under Fair Use laws for review purposes.]

“THIS IS ME

(Thank you to Ziriums for providing me with the lyrics in Hausa of the first two verses. He and Professor Abdalla Uba Adamu did the translation of the third. I’m also grateful to Osama bin Music, Zirium’s brother who helped me correct a few of the lines My translation is very basic and flawed, and corrections are welcome. )

[UPDATE: 26 April 2012, Ziriums has sent a few small corrections to the translations, which I have made here. It is now vetted by him.]

INTRO:

ASSALAMU ALAIKUM – ASSALAMU ALAIKUM

Peace be upon you – Peace be upon you

YARA KU FITO HIP HOP,

Kids come out to the Hiphop

MANYA KU FITO HIP HOP

Big guys come out to the hiphop

YARA KU FITO HIP HOP,

Kids come out to the Hiphop

MANYA KU FITO HIP HOP

Big guys come out to the hiphop

CHORUS:

THIS IS ME –ZIRIUMS X4

NINE NAN – ZIRIUMS X4

(This is me, Ziriums)

RAP 1:

BA’KO BABU SALLAMA MUGUNE KU BIYO SHI DA ‘KOTA,

The guest who does not greet with sallama is evil, chase him away with a stick.

NI NA AJE GARIYO DA ADDA NA DAU ‘KOTA TA MIC,

I dropped my javelin and my machet, I took up the mic (stick)

DA FARI SUNANA NAZIR

To start with my name is Nazir

BN AHMAD HAUSAWA LUNGUN KWARGWAN

Son of Ahmad Hausawa from Kwargwan neighborhood

YAYAN OSAMA BN MUSIC

Big brother of Osama bin Music

AH’ SHUGABAN TALIBAN NA HIP HOP A K-TOWN

Head of the Taliban of Hiphop in K-town

REVOLUTION ZAN NA MUSIC NA ANNABI SAY ALRIGHT (ALRIGHT x3)

It’s a music revolution. All who know the Prophet, Say Alright (Alright x3)

NINE INNOVATOR NA RAPPING DA ZAURANCE TWISTING DA HAUSA

I am the innovator of rapping with twisting in Hausa.

NINE MAI SUNA BIYAR TSOFFI SU KIRANI DA ‘DAN TALA

I am the one with the the five names, the old folks call me Dantala (a person who’s born on Tuesday)

MANYA SU KIRANI MUHAMMADU HAJIYATA TA KIRANI TACE NAZIR,

Other grown-ups call me Muhammadu, Hajiya (my mom) calls me Nazir

NIGGAS SU KIRANI DA ZIRIUMS

The Niggas call me Ziriums

SANNAN ÝAN MATAN GARI IDAN SUN GANNI SUCE NAZIRKHAN

Then the girls of the town if they see me, they say Nazir Khan

TO DUK KU KIRANI DA ZIRIUMS (ZIRIUMS. NI NE ZIRIUMS, ZIRIUMS)

TO, all of you call me Ziriums. (Ziriums. I’m Ziriums. Ziriums)

SUNCE WAI BA ZAN IYABA LA’ÁNANNU MASU HALIN TSIYA

They say I “supposedly” I can’t do it, that’s what the spiteful gossips say.

‘DARA ‘DAIRI YA ‘DIRU ‘DAIRA HATTA ZANANTU ALLAN YA HURA (BALA)

I through my kite up and up i cant even see it- it falls down (Arabic)

KOMAI NISAN JIFA ‘KASA ZAI FA’DO KAJI TIIIIIIM

Everything that goes up, will come down, you hear me (Tiiiim- a sound of falling rock)

YAU GAREKA GOBE GA SOMEBODY,MAI LAYA KIYAYI MAI ZAMANI-AH

Today it is your time, but tomorrow somebody better will come along.

CHORUS:

THIS IS ME –ZIRIUMS X4

NINE NAN – ZIRIUMS X4

(This is me, Ziriums)

CHORUS

RAP 2:

IM HUSTLING TAMKAR ‘DAN ACA’BA DARE RANA HAR SAFIYA

I’m hustling like a d’an achaba (motorcycle taxi driver), night and day, until the morning

DAMINA SANYI DA RANI DA DARI HIP HOP NI NAKE SO

In the time of the cool rains and in the hot season and in the night, it’s hiphop that I love

I WILL NEVER RETIRE NEVER GET TIRED,COS IM ROLLING LIKE A TYRE

I will never retire, never get tired, cause I’m rolling like a tyre

GABA DAI GABA DAI MAZAJE NA HIP HOP(SAI MAZAJE NA HIP HOP)

Go on go on all you hiphop guys (you hiphop guys)

DUKIYA MAI ‘KAREWACE,MULKI MAI SHU’DEWANE,HANYA MAI YANKEWACE

Wealth comes to an end, power passes away, the road is cut off

SAI MUN HA’DU CAN FILIN ‘KIYAMA ANAN NE ZAKACI ‘KWAL UBANKA

Let’s meet there in the place of Judgment, there you’ll suffer like you’ve never suffered before

BA ÝAN SANDA BA JINIYA-GA ‘DAN BANZAN GO-SLOW

No police to escort you, no siren, you’ll see a terrible go-slow

CAN GEFE GUDA WALAKIRI DA SANDA MAI ‘KAYA KAI MISTAKE YA TUMURMUSAKA

There to the side the angel of hell with a rod of thorns, if you make a mistake he’ll beat you stiff.

SANNAN DUKKAN GA’B’BAN JIKINKA DUKA SUNE ZASU BABBADA SHAIDA

Then all the joints of your body, all of them will give testimony

RANAR BABU P.A DA LAWYER BALLE ÝAN BANGAR SIYASAGGA MASU

That day there will be no P.A., no laywer, much less those gangsters of politicans who

SHIGA GIDAN REDIYO SUYI ‘KARYA DAN ANBASU NAIRA,

Go into the radio house and lie to get naira (money)

INZAKA FA’DI FA’DI GASKIYA KOMAI TAKA JAMAKA KA BIYA

If you’re going to say something, tell the truth, in everything walk in the way of your forebearers

ALLAH BAIMIN KARFIN JIKIBA BALLE IN TAREKA IN MAKURE

God didn’t give me a strong body, I could have attacked your neck,

AMMA YAIMIN KAIFIN BAKINDA HAR YA WUCE REZA A KAIFI

But he gave me a sharp mouth, sharper than a razor.

YES I’M SAYING IT.

Yes, I’m saying it.

CHORUS:

THIS IS ME –ZIRIUMS X4

NINE NAN – ZIRIUMS X4

(This is me, Ziriums)

Third Verse

(translated by Professor Abdalla Uba Adamu (to the part about Dala Rock), after that it is translated by Ziriums, himself. Both Ziriums and Prof sent the translations to Alex Johnson and Saman Piracha for a documentary on Hausa hiphop, Recording a Revolution. Translations used by permission of filmmakers. I’ve made a few very small edits to both translations for a more informal feel)

CAN NA GANO FACE MAI SIFFAR LARABAWA

Then I saw a face like an Arab beauty

NA CE MATA ZO TA TAKA

I said to her, come on let’s dance

TA CE BA TA TAKU DA TAKALMI

She said she doesn’t dance with her shoes on.

SAI DAI IN TA TAKA A SANNU

But she will dance slowly

TATTAKA A SANNU

(Go ahead) dance slowly

AMMA KUMA KAR KI GIRGIZA

But don’t shake your body

DOMIN IN KI KA GIRGIZA

Because if you shake your body

RUWAN KOGI ZAI AMBALIYA

There will be a flood

SAI BARNA TA WUCE TSUNAMI

More destructive than Tsunami

HAR DUTSEN DALA YA TARWATSE

Which will destroy Dala Rock.

(From here translation by Ziriums)

TATTAKA KI TAKA RAWAR DON TAKU KI TAKE TEKU,

Dance, Dance my type of dance, so light you dance on the ocean-top

TAKE TAWA KISA MUSU TAKA TAMU AKE TAKAWA TAKA

Step like me ‘cause it’s our type of step they want to dance.

TATTASAI TANKWA DA TUMATIR ITA TASANI TONON TANA

Chilli pepper soup and tomatoes make me dig for earthworms

TATTABARU TARA NE NA TARE TUN RAN TALATA MUKE TAKAWA,

I gathered nine doves. We’ve been stepping out since Tuesday

(The following stanza is an old Hausa poem (according to R.C. Abraham’s dictionary) sung for a “children’s game of prodding heaps of sand to find things hidden there.” Zirium’s brother Osama bin Music explained that the game includes catching the hands of one on whom a twig falls. Ziriums left it untranslated, but I’ve translated the latter part, which I think I’ve understood correctly. If I haven’t please correct me!)

GARDO GARDO –GARDON BIDA

ATTASHI BIRE –KAMANIMAN

GYARAN FUSKA –DA WUYA YAKE

ZAN KAMA KA –

(I’ll catch you!)

KAMANI MAN

(Catch me, then)

KAMANI MAN

(Just catch me then)

CHORUS

THIS IS ME –ZIRIUMS X4

NINE NAN – ZIRIUMS X4

(This is me, Ziriums)

Shout outs:

Ziriums Intersection, giant beatz, Pro Okassy,Dekumzy, Solomon, Korex, Solar

In the house man You know what I’m saying?

Osama bin Music, Pastor Dan, Yo, this is Intersection,

Giant beatz K-town, baby.

Daga Kano, Bahaushe, Yeah Ziriums kar ka manta da sunan

From Kano, a Hausa, Yeah Ziriums, don’t forget the name


To listen to Girgiza Kai, which was banned by the Kano State Government, check out track number 4 of the “This is Me” album.

Girgiza Kai….

.. ..

Ehen. This is Pastor Dan productions. Ziriums…

.. ..

Mai dokar bacci, ya bige da gyangyed’i.

The one who says sleep is against the law is the one nodding off…….

.. ..

Kar ku taka. Ku girgiza kai kurrum.

Don’t dance. Just shake your head…..

.. ..

Girgiza girgiza

Shake shake….

.. ..

.. ..

Chorus:….

Girgiza kai/ Girgiza kai. Girgiza kai. Girgiza kai.

Shake your head, shake your head. Shake your head. Shake your head…..

.. ..

Girgiza kai. Girgiza kai. Girgiza kai.

Shake your head. Shake your head. Shake your head…..

.. ..

Girgiza kai. Girgiza kai. Girgiza kai.

Shake your head. Shake your head. Shake your head…..

.. ..

1.

Kai karku taka kun san an hana.

Hey, don’t dance, you know they banned it. ….

.. ..

Gwamnan garinmu ran nan. Shi ne ya hana.

The governor of our city here. He banned it…..

.. ..

In ka ji kid’a ya yi dad’i. Girgiza kai kurrum.

If you hear a good beat, just shake your head…..

.. ..

Eh, In ka ji kid’a ya yi dad’i. Girgiza kai kurrum.

Yeah, if you hear a good beat, just shake your head…..

.. ..

Chorus….

.. ..

.. ..

2.

Kai tsalle waka a gidan giya.

Hey,[stop] jumping and singing in a bar….

.. ..

In an kafa doka. Ku bi ta daidai wisely.

If they make a law, make sure you follow it wisely

.. ..

Eeeeh, an hana. Eeeeh, sun hana.

Eeeh, it’s against the law. Eeeeh. They said it’s against the law…..

.. ..

Chorus….

.. ..

3.

Kai ku daina arufta an hana.

Hey stop roughriding, it’s against the law…..

.. ..

Kyale tukin maye sassauta, an hana.

Stop drunk driving. It’s against the law…..

.. ..

Eeeeh, an hana. Eeeeh sun hana.

Eeeeh, it’s against the law. Eheheh, they said it’s against the law…..

.. ..

Chorus….

.. ..

.. ..

4.

.. ..

Kai mai tauye mudu an hana

Hey, you, who weight your measures. It’s against the law…..

.. ..

Algus a cikin wasko, ai shi ma an hana

You, who thin down food. It’s against the law…..

.. ..

Eeeh an hana. Eeeeh, sun hana.

Eeeeh, it’s against the law. Eeeeh, they said it’s against the law…..

.. ..

Chorus…..

.. ..

5. (RAP)

.. ..

Wanda duk ya hana mu sana’a

Anyone who keeps us from working….

.. ..

Ya Allah ka zuba musa maruru sittin da bakwai

Oh God, send him sixty-seven boils….

.. ..

A ta karshensa shawara da basir mai seedling

In his rectum, give him yellow fever and piles. ….

.. ..

Sore throat ya ..kama.. mak’oshinsa.

May his throat catch fire

.. ..

Likitoci su kasa ganoshi.

May doctors say they can’t find what’s wrong. ….

.. ..

Da Dala da Goron Dutse

So Dala and Goron Dutse [hills in ....Kano....]….

.. ..

Da gidan birni da gidan k’auye

The house in the city and the house in the village….

.. ..

Na hada na cusa a gajeran wandon mmmhmmhmmm

I put ‘em together in the underpants of his mmhmmmhmmm ….

.. ..

….Bari…. d’aya ne.Ya ji labari. ….Bari…. d’aya bai san komai ba.

One side knows what’s going on. One side has no idea…..

.. ..

Eeeh an hana. Eeeeh sun hana.

Eeeh, it’s against the law. Eeeeh, they said it’s against the law…..

.. ..

Come on.

.. ..

Chorus….

.. ..

.. ..

6.

Mmmmmm, waka ba gadona bace.

Mmmmm, I wasn’t born into singing. ….

.. ..

Dan malam ne ni k’yank’yank’yan wasu sun sani

I’m the son of a complete Islamic scholar, everybody knows…..

.. ..

Kar ku ce min na k’i halin malam samsam kurrum.

Don’t tell me I don’t have character…..

.. ..

Na yi karatun boko har da na addini, kwarai.

I’ve done Western education and religious. Oh yes…..

.. ..

Samartaka ce na kad’ana domin zamani.

It’s the way of the young. It’s the beat of our time…..

.. ..

Eeeeh an hana. Eeeeh, sun hana.

Eeeh it’s against the law. Eeeeh, they said it’s against the law….

.. ..

Chorus 2X….

.. ..

.. ..

End

(c) Lyrics: Nazir Hausawa
Translation: Carmen McCain