Music Festival at Kinoise
the potential
As you know, last Sunday was the feast of music worldwide. Our capital also began to air the world for a day and was referred to oblivion your daily routine and we had a blast. My boss, the Minister of Strategic Affairs (pronounced with respect ...) was invited to a concert of young musicians. He gladly accepted the invitation to escape, too, the depression room. Ah! for my boss, the air is more polluted now in the capital, with a prime minister, it seems, obese and therefore in the eye of the cyclone with the stifling rumors of disturbance, with the dollar ndombolo staggering, with the same prophecies of the Apocalypse in the East, dance with the reluctance of the opposition divided between tests of pain inflicted by the Criminal Court in The Hague and a position of opposition off balance, with most carnivorous and already on the lookout to attack the prime minister ... No, my boss chose his camp on Sunday, outside the vortex politicailleurs: it is young, right-down neighborhood d'en down the middle of "Kulun" followers of the religion "kitendi" and other "Solomon" ...
Naturally, for such shipments original I serve as a guide and all-terrain lit. My boss has chosen to make the air day and time: it is Multipockets jeans, t-shirts, moccasins, cowboy hat. Of course, I did so, with the peculiarity that must be adjusted to hold the process, and so I learned to my boss the Minister last step fashion, half duckling half peacock, a bit like a boat in pitch! It took just two rehearsals in the underground annex behind his home so that my boss is on top of the look, cool and fashionable!
Here we are in the neighborhood low-d'en there. Ah! I am proud of my boss Minister: it is the current rate, proud as a peacock, and dapper as a leading man. We are greeted by a din of hell and a scramble worthy of a riot, except that here it is a good child. And as access in these narrow streets is impossible with the car, we parked down the wide avenue and us walk on foot. Immediately we are overwhelmed by the crowd mad, and my boss Minister loses a little of its stature. I am forced to play the biceps to the release of enkakements. Finally, Organizers recognize when my boss as Minister, and he applauded across the crowd. It is a triumph! My boss is immediately Minister tipoy worn as a traditional chief, to the top of the podium. Still applause! And all this still in the midst of a din of music.
Once all of us on the podium after the speech for the occasion of the organizers, but in a language hybrid between the Ki-French and Lingala-indoubill. It's hardly my boss understands Minister, but he pretends. Even I used these linguistic incongruities, I'm not really at the top so to speak. I decipher puzzles and approximately rumblings as "Bino presos ba bo ba-NISER mbasu-people" ("You dignitaries, you homelessness population"). Or: "Awa idologi ago Mapendo ekufa" ("Here, love is dead"). Or finally: "Solola kaokokokorobo" ("Speak always true").
And always the same loud music, to the point between the Minister and I yell loudly for conversation. But meanwhile, what wildlife to us! A true fashion of fire: Flush or relaxed hair with earrings and lip ... the boys, blouses shortened to navel-bodies with tattoos and pubic pants for short girls .... My boss seemed distraught Minister as a prisoner in a cage of wild beasts.
... Then came the turn of my boss Minister delivering his speech for the occasion for young people. The Minister initially turned to me to know what language to speak. I blew him in his ear: "Your Excellency, especially not the French here. Neither Lingala elsewhere! Talk your native language: they understand nothing but appreciate. "My boss Minister, made a divine inspiration, has done better as a speech, he began to hum a lullaby to his old hometown. The crowd went wild!
YOKA LYE
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