Educator, poet, musician and producer, Aissa Brahimi was born in
wed el ma, ighzer n wamen, Aures (16.8.1961) . He did his primary school in
wed elma, his junior high in
Merouana, then moved to
Batna where he attended Lycee Benboulaid.
After finishing school, Aissa entered the field of education as a teacher. He spent a few years working in the region of Bedjaia, then returned to his native Aures where he worked as teacher of music and arts. It was there that his music career took off.
He started working with some of his students, then extended his musical activities to the community at large. He helped found the band
imnayen(which became
Massinissa), then went solo.
In addition to his work, community work, Aissa managed to produce three albums and is in the process of finishing his forth.
Aissa Brahimi lives in
wed elma, where he works as the director of the cultural center.
Machi hemma is a song from Aissa's third album. A lovely song of reflections and meditations on life. A song with a bluezy feel.
Machi hemma
machi hemma snegh thamedourth
machi hemma tennadh thmurth
matta issahen g'awalen uchigh
matta issahen g'mattawn iligh
idouyeth w'alli yenghith u'xemmem
h'atha yelés yenghith u'demmem
udh'yelli lwali adibedden fella
aiyni rouh,aiyni wella
magher hemma theqqen thegouma
uzlegh ulifegh la icht dhouma
ah arabbi rexfed ghen
gayed ennoub makche n'youdhen
matta iligh,matta ouligh
dhi thmedourth matta sawigh
magher hemma ikrés l'hal
swigh alili, awal u thennigh.
Shawi Blues
This is not the way I envisioned life
Why is it upside down
What is the point of the speeches I made
What is the point of the tears I shed.
Clouds hover over my thinking
The tongue is paralyzed by praying
No kin to look after me
Nowhere to be found.
Why is it that everything reached a dead end
I ran seeking the unattainable friend
Oh, God have mercy on us
It is time for mine.
Look to what I was and to what I became
What did I achieve in this life
Why is it that hopelessness became a way of life
In silence I drank the bitterness of life.
S Tafransist*
Ce n'est pas ainsi que je connais le monde,
La terre ne tourne plus dans le bon sens,
Qu'est-ce que j'ai récolté en donnant ma parole,
Qu'est-ce que j'ai récolté de mes pleurs.
Le cerveau est paralysé, meurtri par la souffrance,
Et la langue meurtrie par les prières,
J'aurais aimé être entouré par mes proches,
J'ai tellement souffert pour retrouver un frère.
J'aurais aimé être guidé par eux,
Pourquoi n'y a t-il pas d'issu,
Ô, mon dieu lâche un peu de mou,
Donnes moi une part comme pour les autres.
Comment j'étais, comment je suis devenu,
Dites moi ce que je vaux dans ce monde,
Pourquoi n'existe t-il pas de trêve,
J'ai subi l'amer sans dire un mot.
*Please note that the French translation is by Awal, first appeared in aurschaouia/forum.
