znous

Synopsis:
“Kigulu” is a users manual to help cope with a large part of one of the most contradictive, confusing and self-destructive societies: that of Znousland (aka Tunisia). 

Translation:

Kigulu / when then say

Translation:

When they try to dissuade you from something, know that it’s exactly the right thing for you
When they encourage you to do something, don’t you ever fucking do it!
When they tell you to eat something, tell them you are fasting and stay hungry
When they praise you often, you shall conclude that you’re an asshole
When they tell that something is great, know that it’s mere pee
When they say that something is Haram and recite some verses, know that it’s all Halal
When they say come over this way, you should better go the other way
When they tell you this is the road to heaven, you shall know that it’s the road to the abyss
Just tell them
No no no  No no no No no!

When they talk shit behind your back, know that you’re a decent person
When they guide you to drive straight, you should better take the first turn!
When they stell you money is dirt, know that they are the dirty ones
The state police is watching over the rich while your rights are being violated
When they say “come and help me, I found a jar burried in the field”(1)
They complain about “this fucked up” country while they have actually voted for Mr Nabil (2)
They say that this country is a shithole while they are the ones digging the hole!
And when they ask where did the government come from, tell them it came from: these people!!

(1) Sending a message to a friend pretending you’ve found an old jar full of gold burried in your uncle’s field is a common prank among a lot of Tunisians.
(2) Nabil Karoui, Tunisian TV Mogul, fraudster, convicted for money laundering and tax evasion, founder of the political party “Kalb Tounes” and ex-member of the ex-parliament and presidential candidate who made it to the final round.

Synopsis:
“Sidi El-Insan” is a North African “nouba/trance” song with which we try to invoke the most sacred and blessed spirit of all spirits: that of the human inner self.

Translation:

In times where truth becomes the foe
In a land where even the breeze is for sale
Within man dies all dreams or hopes
Nothing is left for which the soul may roam

Oh Sidi El-Insan*1

The truth shall be revealed
Oh Sidi El-Insan
Even after tedious long times
Oh Sidi El-Insan
The eyes shall bloom and behold
Oh Sidi El-Insan
Against all terror and cold
Oh Sidi El-Insan
We crawl towards you, you and us are one
Oh Sidi El-Insan
Asking you for guidance
Oh Sidi El-Insan
We come to you as the oppressed
Oh Sidi El-Insan
We come to you as the oppressor

Oh Sidi El-Insan

*1 Sidi means “Master” in the Sufi context where this title is attributed to people of great faith (very much equivalent of saints in the Christian culture). There are hundreds of “saints” for which Sufi or superstitious Muslims call for blessing and help. There are cities and villages named after local “saints” such as Sidi Bouzid, Sidi Bousaid etc.
“Insan” translates to Human being, in his moral definition.

Synopsis:
Top Rojle is a spit on the face of one of the most toxic, ignorant, macho, criminal and disgusting politicians in Tunisian history.

Translation:

Oh you! cheap bastard!
Bootlicker of the pasta guy!(2)
You Top Macho!
This is the day you meet the ghoul!
Oh you, raised up by oppression/product of fear
You are the sewage of your father’s knees/cum(3)
You Top Macho!
The sleeping seed from the old regime(4)
Oh you, leader of fuckfaces
You desolate little rat
You Top Macho!
One day you will die crushed by a huge penis
You, the cheapest creature among all humans
You are a microbe that plagued your own country
You are a mule-head(5)
The mule is an animal yet way more decent than you!

He’s a dodgy businessmen
He’d sell blood for 1 Dinar(6)
He’s a lawyer, a Hyena, and a mocker
Rotten meat = halal

He’s a bully with a blunt weapon
He’s virile like a ram
His penis is his only source of pride
as well as a bunch of ignorant followers

Give it to me!
It’s time to pay your dues
My words are knife stabs
My music is like the torment of the grave of this life we are  living!
Give it to me!
Slash him with a blade
This jerk of a “lion”
“Hijama” just like the sunna of the messenger of allah

Oh you! cheap bastard!
Bootlicker of the pasta guy!(2)
You Top Macho!
This is the day you meet the ghoul!
Oh you, raised up by oppression/product of fear
You are the sewage of your father’s knees/cum(3)
You Top Macho!
The sleeping seed from the old regime(4)
Oh you, leader of fuckfaces
You desolate little rat
You Top Macho!
One day you will die crushed by a huge penis
You, the cheapest creature among all humans
You are a microbe that plagued your own country
You are a mule-head(5)
The mule is female and she is your lady

A merchant of dignity(7)
Selling pigeon(8) testicles by the Kilogram
Fuck him up! he’s a sheikh without a turban
He has got a passion for terrorism

Cattle legs and Lablabi(9)
He always dreamed about becoming a terrorist
He was good at lying since a school-kid
And he only grew up to become a loser dickhead

Give it to me!
It’s time to pay your dues
My words are bank checks
I’m taking back everything you stole
Give it to me!
Bring the corrupt
Give me the Shisha-mouthpiece(10)
Come on Saifon(11) put your legs up in the air!

(2) A reference to him bootlicking the corrupt politician Nabil Karoui, who attracted voters by distributing food, mainly pasta, to the poor.
(3) It’s a common misbelief or “popular myth” in Tunisia that sperm is actually stored in the knees.
(4) Tunisia’s ex-President Ben-Ali who ruled the country until the arab spring.
(5) “Mule head” is an insult which was often openly used by Seifeddine Makhlouf, in this context it is used as a response to his misogynies, meaning that female animals are superior and more decent than him
(6) Tunisia’s currency is the Tunisian Dinar
(7) His political partie is named “the coalition for dignity”
(8) The pigeon represents the Ennahdha islamist reigning partie in Tunisia (their logo), for whom Seifeddine Makhlouf’s parti does “the dirty work”.
(9) A popular Tunisian dish, mainly served as street-food
(10) The Shisha mouthpiece (the plastic tube)  is often used also as a whip.
(11) A common nickname in Tunisia for men called “Seif” or “Seifeddine”

Synopsis:
“Esmi Mabrouk” is a musical funeral with which we try to eternalize the memory of the shepherd child Mabrouk Soltani, beheaded by terrorist at the Salloum mountain in Kasserine Tunisia.

Translation:

He remembers the days he was a little little boy and his childhood
Dreaming about growing up and providing for his family like his older siblings
He remembered the scorching heat of the sun, and the freezing cold of the nights
He might have forgotten much, but there is no way he’d forget the howling of the wolves.
He remembers when they said school was expensive and too far away
And when he went there he was mocked and bullied because of his bare feet
He remembered his short life spent shepherding and wandering like the wind
Then he woke up from his flashback when the terrorist asked him

“What’s your name?” sample from the terrorist footage

My name is Mabrouk…

He remembered the first tear that quenched the thirst of his eyes
The image of his mother Zaara was flickering in his eyes
He remembered the candlelight and the water he had to bring from the well
This place is called “Slatnia”(1) but there are no sultans here

He remembered when the soldier came to ask him for information about the terrorists
They offered him money to follow their tracks in the mountain
It didn’t cross his mind that the army of the state was using him
The same state that uses the very terrorist who is beheading him

“What’s your name?” sample from the terrorist footage

My name is Mabrouk…

(1) Slatnia is the name of the area in which Mabrouk lived

Synopsis

“Het Ch3oul” is dedicated to the soul, the music and the suffering of Tunisian rapper and artist Cheb Terro (1997-2021) and it speaks of the deep involvement of the system in the traffic and spread of chemical drugs among Tunisian youth. The track is also dedicated to the Tunisian youth suffering drug abuse and depression.

Lyrics:

Kids are like vampires, they come out at night
to live in a parallel world to the fucked up one that surrounds them
Pills and liquid drugs are tickets for trips
Late night pharmacies are travel agencies
One pill helps you remember, another one makes you forget
One pill makes you convulse, while you have no control over what happens next
In a country where you have to either ravage your liver or your stomach
or trespass the borders in a small boat at night
No matter how loud you scream, you remain unheard
You are clinging to a dream, the dream is a nightmare
Your mouth is muzzled and your body is poisoned
Getting your fix from the dealer. that is the criminal state

No matter how much you talk, sing, or rap about it
they’re not going to feel your pain
Your last resort is chemical warfare against yourself
No matter how many university degrees you earn, how much you have lived and learned
Your breath becomes useless when your dreams die inside of you
No matter how much comfort you find in music and football mania
In a country that is an expert in the politics of aborting dreams
One single thought keeps burning like an ember inside your mind
Those who want to burn me and drive me out are worthy of my own fire!!!

A glass bottle and a wick for those in charge
gimme a flame!!
For the parliament that is a whorehouse
gimme a flame!!
For Ghannouchi(1) and for Abbour(2)
gimme a flame!!
Scratch it all and start all over again
gimme a flame!!
A glass bottle and a wick for the corrupt
gimme a flame!!
For those who struck it rich and kept piling it up
gimme a flame!!
Burn down their means of production
gimme a flame!!
For the mercenaries and the savage capitalists
….

Is that enough misery? or should I tell you more?
Smoking your poison while the rich are smoking you
Getting drunk on your blood when they party
Licking cocaine under the protection of the state police
Chemical pills are distributed and munched on by kids in high schools
While when you smoke the blessed herb, then you go to jail..
In a country where you have to either ravage your liver or your stomach
or burn down a police truck and/or a police station

No matter how often they take me down, I’m still standing tall
No matter how often you redo the count, you’ll always find a deficit
I’ll speak up for my rights and I’m not giving up!
And this criminal state won’t hold me back (x3)

No matter how much you talk, sing, or rap about it
they’re not going to feel your pain
Your last resort is chemical warfare against yourself
No matter how many university degrees you earn, how much you have lived and learned
Your breath becomes useless when your dreams die inside of you
No matter how much comfort you find in music and football mania
In a country that is an expert in the politics of aborting dreams
One single thought keeps burning like an ember inside your mind
Those who want to burn me and drive me out are worthy of my own fire!!!

A glass bottle and a wick for those in charge
gimme a flame!!
For the parliament that is a whorehouse
gimme a flame!!
For Ghannouchi(1) and for Abbour(2)
gimme a flame!!
Scratch it all and start all over again
gimme a flame!!
A glass bottle and a wick for the corrupt
gimme a flame!!
For those who struck it rich and kept piling it up
gimme a flame!!
Revolt and be a final deluge
gimme a flame!!
After which all truth is revealed.
….

(1) Rached Ghannouchi is the founder and leader of the tunisian islamist political Party Ennahdha
(2) Abbour is a tunisian nickname for the female arab name “Abir”, and it is used to refer to Abir Moussi, who symbolizes the remains of the Ben-Ali Era in post-revolution tunisian politics.

Synopsis

“Swed Ellil” is a narrative of the history of slavery in north Africa and a solemn stare at the reality of persistent racism against black people in Tunisia.

Lyrics:

Listen here
Let me tell you a thing or two
My heart is overflowing in a country consumed by racism
Come here
I’m not gonna judge you for your color or from where you hail
This gorilla-brown people thinks it’s a lion
Listen here
Let’s talk a bit about history
My heart is overflowing in a country blinded by revisionism
Come here
I’m not inventing things or hiding anything from you
This is the truth that the winners chose not to write

We were living together
My first grandfathers never stole anything from anyone
Then Arabs and Europeans came
and took those of us who survived
We crossed the desert in heavy chains
And until this moment, despair still runs in my blood
They brought us here and called us slaves
And my grandfather was sold on a scale like a animal

Synopsis

“El-Mansiette” / “the forgotten ones” recites the epic stories of Tunisian female field workers and their industrious labor and exploitation in Tunisian rural agricultural areas as well as their tragic death caused by transporting them on the back of pick-up vehicles, not designed for human transportation.

Lyrics:
She woke up at dawn, bleeding for the few pennies
Her husband is a jerk living like a parasite, a virus
Together with the other women she climbed on the back of a pick-up truck
And covered her head, eaten by cold and lots of bane
They sang as they gathered around the tea-pot to warm up their hands
Before the arrival of the boss and his watchdog
Which marked the beginning of a long day of hard work under harsh and humiliating conditions
A day during which a thousand woman die for the prosperity of one man

The sun rose to its zenith, it was time for a lunch-break
A stone-hard loaf of bread, yoghurt and tea
The mongers came and took away all the fruits of their hard work and left yet more empty crates to be filled
All that had been harvested was taken and gluttoned away
The watchdog barked the end of the lunch-break. the women gathered again
He barked and wouldn’t stop until he sucks away the last drop of their energy
The sun started setting down and the pick-up truck reappeared on the horizon
The watchdog appeared and started counting the daily fortune and praising god for his generosity

(Breakdown)
Nooo!!!!
The road is covered in your blood
Your blood tastes bitter
It’s a curse upon the earth and its people
The state and the population
Your blood, your blood, your blood
Your blood is on our hands

Synopsis
Kadhura is a message to a particular man and the likes of him in the shitty Tunisian journalism sector.

Lingering around in the night
Holding a mic in his hand
Tumbling about like a pig
After eating two bowls of garlic(1)

A journalist created by God in the form of a cleaning rag
In the land of fuckers
A journalist that walks barefoot
‘cause he’s the slipper himself

He got a call and now he’s slithering with the snakes(2)
The “Fuck your Mother” Brigade producing drugged prison food(3)

They seized young brats sniffing glue4 in an abandoned place
When Hamma Bouzidi jumped on them, Mortal Kombat style

“What’s your name, who are your parents, why did they give birth to you?
Aren’t you too young to do these things, you bum?”
The boy hangs his head in shame, deprived of integrity and respect

Cursed be your hand, you piece of shit!
As well as whoever pays you, you piece of shit!
If I catch you, I’d blind you, you piece of shit!
And kick your ass, you piece of shit!
Who raised you, you piece of shit!
Shat you into this life under a bridge, you piece of shit!
Who gave you your name, you piece of shit!
And a microphone, you piece of shit!

Ignoring all the pains in this world just to chase some girl
Didn’t find anything to film except two guys drinking
Didn’t find anyone to harass except poor girls and grandmas
While the police acts all high and mighty because of a piece of Marihuana or a bottle

You’re a macho and oh so amazing but in the end, you’ll be fucked
You and the director and whoever made you the moral police
Idiot, one day you’ll end up minding your own business
Generation after generation will be pissing on your grave

(1): Usually eaten alongside alcohol as tapas
(2): The word “snakes” designates the police force in Tunisian slang
(3): Tunisian police forces are divided into teams and brigades. Additionally, the word “Marhouja” designates food in Tunisian prisons. It is a porridge of leftovers mixed with calming drugs to subdue the prison population.
(4) Those who cannot afford to buy drugs resort to sniffing very strong glue using a plastic bag.

Hassen Zargouni from the polling institute “Sigma Conseil” described the youngsters who took part in the protests and riots in late 2020 and early 2021 as the Free Fire generation (referring to a children/childish mobile game), in an attempt to dwarf a whole generation living under oppression, and dismiss their needs and their demands.
It’s a beautiful coincidence that he chose the words “Free Fire” because we think it’s a perfect name for this song,
which comes as a response to his statement. We want to use the opportunity to thank Mr. Zargouni for the inspiration,
despite his mediocrity.
Znous is an angry music band residing within the remains of Tunisia’s collective consciousness.

Lyrics translation:
We said a lot of things but words are becoming useless
We protested at night in the dark and in broad daylight and you couldn’t stop us
I’m screaming loudly to be heard today, tomorrow, and forever
I’m the voice that calls out the system hiding behind the police
We are here on our own terms with no parties or organizations behind us
We came to destroy the machine that’s oppressing us with its terrorism
We came today, aware of the fact that tomorrow might be even worse
As long as our rulers are thieves and our judges are cheap to buy

“Employment, freedom, national dignity…”

“The middle finger” generation swore to rip out the roots
of those who deprived it from its rights and sold its future
This system is eating its people, inside and outside prisons
A cancer giving you guidance on how to fight the virus (covid19)
I may have lost my origins, and that’s because of you
But deep inside I still know where I am to go..
You’re still asleep, but I’m already at war, and sleep has become my foe
And whomever forgets those who died, is dead and buried before they do

Those who betrayed and sold the “green” land (1)
Fuck them all!
The president, the police, and the ministers
Fuck them all!
The regime and the oppressive system
Fuck them all!
And the cowards who killed Chokri Belaid from behind (2)
Fuck them all!

The master sheikh (3) and his dogs
Fuck them all!
The old regime and its watch dogs
Fuck them all!
The leftist parties and all their hypocrisy and impotency
Fuck them all!
And the fuckers who denied the crimes of the snipers (4)
Fuck them all!

References
(1) Tunisia is often nicknamed “Tunisia the green” locally.
(2) Chokri Belaid was a leading political figure in Tunisia, and leader of the opposition against the Islamism regime. He was assassinated in front of his house on February 6, 2013. To this day, his soul got no justice.
(3) “Master the sheikh” is how partisans and members of Ennahdha, Tunisia’s ruling Ismalist party, refer to its leader Rached Ghannouchi.
(4) A reference to the snipers who shot protesters with live ammunition during the uprising in 2010/2011, later denied by ex-prime minister Beji Kais Sebsi and those in the successive governments.