🚨 Patrice Evra has announced the passing of his mother. 😢
🗣️ “I’ve lost my rock, but I’m trying to stay positive.
“To everyone who still has their mum, tell them you love them every day before they’re gone.
“A mother’s love is forever. Rest in peace, Mum.
“You will always be in my heart.”
Our sincere condolences to Patrice Evra and his family. 🙏❤️
Mahmoud Ibrahim Dib Alyan, a terrorist in Hamas’ Observation Unit, was eliminated by an Israeli airstrike on northern Gaza on Saturday.
If you sign up as a terrorist to act against Israel your fate will be sealed. ❌
It is with heavy hearts, but endless gratitude for a life richly lived, that we share the passing of our beloved mother, sister, grandmother, and great-grandmother, Mrs. Sabina Kemunto Otiambo.
Sabina was wife to the late Raphael Otiambo Nyangena, and a pillar of strength to her family. She was a cherished sister to Chief Justice (Emeritus) David Maraga, alongside her loving siblings James Ochengo, and her late brothers and sisters Onduko, Ongondi, Barake, Nyanduko, Okongo, and Kemuma.
Her warmth and wisdom live on through her children: Grace Moraa Ochoi, David Nyangau, Simon Monari, Eunice Kemuma, Job Miranga, and Florence Nyanchama, as well as the fond memories of her late sons, Peterson Nyambane and Kamanda. Sabina was also blessed to see her legacy bloom across generations as a proud grandmother and great-grandmother to 53 children.
We will gather to celebrate her remarkable life and lay her to rest on Friday, October 9th, at her home in Nyairobi Village, Kipkelion (Kericho County). The funeral service will take place at the home, followed immediately by her interment.
Thank you for your warm prayers, love, and support as our family remembers a truly special matriarch who lived to a remarkable age of 107 years.
A mother moose came out of the forest by a quiet lake and led a woman to a beaver dam where her newborn calf was waiting. The woman stayed with them for a long time while the mother stood close beside her.
This practice of skull elongation is one of the oldest across most of Africa, especially Congo and Rwanda. When Europeans came to Egypt and saw similar skulls, they claimed they were alien, only to find the same practice elsewhere in Africa.
I believe that when Franco wrote this song, he got extra pissed with the bad manners of the bambanda, and decided to "solola na guitare"- speak with his guitar, halfway through the song.
Thank you Grand Maitre.
Juba Commissioner Kalisto Lado has directed foreign traders to leave small-scale retail businesses to South Sudanese.
“Somebody should not come from his country to come and make chapati, retail kilos of onions and tomatoes [in Juba]. What will our women in South Sudan sell?”
🚨 ÚLTIMA HORA: Fuerzas respaldadas por Arabia Saudita capturaron a un alto comandante hutí mientras intentaba huir disfrazado con una abaya de mujer.
Algunas cuentas afirman que el comandante tenía el rango de general de brigada.
The Day Kinshasa Stopped Singing
On October 12, 1989, the news reached Kinshasa, Franco Luambo Makiadi, the man whose guitar had narrated the lives of millions, was dead at 51.
All radios changed their tune. In their place came the slow ones, the aching, unhurried songs Franco had spent decades perfecting. Hour after hour, they drifted from open windows, taxi radios, and market stalls. Zaire, as the country was then called, declared four days of national mourning. For a nation not known for agreeing on much, it was a rare moment of shared silence, filled with a sombre mood. They all agreed they had lost a national treasure.
People came. They poured into the streets of Kinshasa in their millions, a tide of mourners spilling across the capital to say goodbye to the man they came to refer to as "le Sorcier de la Guitare," the Sorcerer of the Guitar.
People received the news and processed it differently. Some wept openly. Others simply stood, shoulder to shoulder with strangers, humming melodies they had known since childhood. Others simply did not believe death could be that cruel.
It's easy to see why the grief ran so deep. Franco was not merely an entertainer. He had been there since 1956, he was the spinal cord of OK Jazz, a band that grew into one of the most influential in African music history and the world at large. For more than three decades, he fused Congolese rumba with sharp wit and fearless storytelling, building a body of work running to thousands of songs. Yes, you got me right, thousands of songs, with over 1400 well documented songs.
But what made him beloved was what he put inside those songs. Franco sang about everything: love gone wrong, money troubles, family quarrels, the small cruelties and absurdities of daily life, and, when he dared, the powerful.
In a country where honest reporting could be dangerous, his lyrics did the job the newspapers couldn't. People didn't just dance to Franco; they learned from him. His songs were advice, gossip, warning, and comfort, all wrapped in a groove you couldn't resist. In a very real sense, he was the nation's unofficial daily paper, delivered in song. This lived beyond his death and that makes him the great master of the art, the musical honour " Le grand maitre."
When he died, it felt less like losing a musician and more like losing a voice that had been speaking for everyone. The man who had given Zaire the words for its joys and sorrows was gone, and the only fitting tribute was to let those words play on.
More than three decades later, Franco's music still echoes through Kinshasa and far beyond, from Brazzaville bars to Nairobi matatus to playlists in different gadgets across the world. Everyone remembers him differently. The Sorcerer's guitar has gone quiet, no one to pluck the strings as sweetly as he did, but the spell seems never meant to break. You listen to him, and you cannot stop listening to more and more.
As we prepare to usher in his 37th anniversary, we know the master is gone but will forever live in our ears, heart and mind through music. Hey DJ, put on some makiadi music and don't cut any song before it ends!
Which music plays first?
One of the most defining songs made by the Grand Maitre. Kimpa Kisangameni.
Ever noticed the trumpets in the opening act after the bass guitar?
How about the utterly disgustingly good rhyhm guitar on this?
Ever heard Franco's lead guitar on here?
Bwana, we were spoilt even in his mourning!
Great Franco Luambo Luanzo Makiadi month ahead Baninga!