When, on my first hearing of his recent released album,"AZWU" -"Thewind", Moha Mallal asked me for an aesthetic judgment about thisurgent and ultimate "go ahead blow in blood", i immediately recalledBob Dyllan's famous refrain:"The answer my friend is blowing in thewind".With respect to this spontaneous communicability or theuniversal modality without concepts, and admitting that Bob Dyllan'saskies together with their implied windy blown answers are stillpleasing universally without concepts or comments, I believe thatMallal's blow in blood, wrapping up all the Amazighian contemporaryurgent anthological questions, hopes and even despair, will stir theblood of the Amazighian cultural movement but surely will displease,sting or stink ,may be stir so as to bring to shame those typicallyAmazighian betrayers or disloyal "Berberized" activists still addictedto the mythically Arabophone discourses of alleged civil rights.Moha's album, relying on the attunement of mystical words of"monstration" and cosmic metaphors-thus creating a strange language ofjoyous nihilism within a language he is deprived of, appeals to manypolitical issues against which a bloody revolution is to be fought.The force of his lyrics is the last vernacular to fight the good fightagainst the dominant ideologies whose sole national industry is todevide the Amazighians into diametrical opposites: /da nttnagh graghxf idergi igwban/:"Fighting among ourselves over a can in holes" i.e.the current Amazighian internal rivalries over the once hostedenemy's empty and fake values and beliefs; what Mba Oulaarbi'srebeleous voice in the same album's track(Izmn n l3wari-The lion ofcliffs) scores as:/yulid u3ttib gragh/ :"A swollen wound emerges inbetween us".The militant sounds bravely begin:/ sud a yazwu nidammen/ :"Do blowthe wind of blood", to knock down/snnegdemd afella/ all the Arabianupper idols, structures and protocols,"/ Armani xla nkwna"/,Awake, gorebel,how long will we remain bow-legged silent slaves without landnor tongue; without history nor a political share. The insight of thisblown blood track is an allusion to Tracy Chapman's"Talking about arevolution": "Poor people gonna rise up,And get their share;And takewhat's theirs".It is the Amazighian tragedy, using Mallal'suncorrupted archeology about the corrupted generation/Tassuta/ ,to knowthe truth about those horrid vagabonds of Pan Arabian shame,who ,through their acts of exclusion and claimed"Berberized" discourses,just want to maintain power. But the forthcoming wind of blood is to"turn rocks into soil":/Turud azwu nidammen ayrar iselli d'akwal/" andmove ahead towards the catharsis; "/maca zerigh asid dart uzwu nidammen"/: "But I see illumination after the wind of blood"; towards atrans historical per durance or persistence of the Amazighians: "/Nsula tasuta/", " still we persist oh, generation/" , a desire beyond theactual betrayed desire. The wind bears some sort of messianism ,ademocracy to come, a region of mysticism and the sublime which doesn'tassimilate justice and civil rights to any Arabian horizon.Through out Mallal's album, we sense so many temporalities andrepressed historicities of second degree which institute a new orderbetween Imazighn and their purposely omitted history. To break thesilence that has recently marked the Amazighian discourse, or to saywhat cannot be said,Mallal retreats to the most primitive of the Dadesvalley, and with the slow melodic track,"Tasuta" -"Generation" ,we hearother voices(Mallal' sisters+Angmar) softly begin:"/nsul a tasuta/",andthe lyrics of the pathetic start to recover the archaic home landmemories;"Ahidus" with brides harvesting in full white moon; aregression to the infantile and the time of "love and tears"-"/tayri dimttawn/",the time when you hear the shepherd's wind of flute-"/addaytsllat i tebja n uzal/" when what is not said is to be blowndifferently in the wind of wood-pipe .A nostalgia of what will neverreturn is when you hear "the snow sounds falling"-"/adday tsellat iutfl da i ttar/",or when "you hear the breeze kidding you"-"/tsllat iuzwu dak isseknad"/.A special historicity drips up from Amnay'slips-(Moha'six aged staring son,the youngest Amazighian's voice sofar)-, scoring :"/izem n l3wari/"-"the lion of cliffs";"/urk ikwtiyawd yan/"-"no one remembers you".This track is a dedication to theforgotten but glorious Saghru martyrdoms; it is a mourning ode to themost "savage" but noble styles and tastes of Ait Aatta combatants whosacrificed their lives only to be erased in the historical narratives.To those who squeeze the persisting Amazighian long history in just adoomed dozen subjugating and starving centuries; still applaud andchant the advent of liberal democracy in the euphoria of their fadingaway metanarratives and ideologies," How many ears must [you]havebefore [you] hear[ Imazighn] cry?" :"Enough is enough";"/nuhl awal difsti…Ar mani xla nkwna……/,"And how many years can some people existbefore they are allowed to be free?
Brahim Ainani(From Dades Valley)
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- Omar Zanifi
Entrepreneur, Immobilier, Guide accompagnateurMannager du groupe SaghruEtudiant chercheur en Master information et presse Amazigh(Berbére)Université Lahaye -Pays-BasLicence en Langue et litérature AnglaisesEcrivain-journalist e-Poétehttp://www.poetasde lmundo.com
Email:zanifi@hotmail. comzanifi@gmail. comTél :212-68762019
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