Mayoumako

It is a strange thing. The journey, the desert, the sea, life in Italy. It is a strange thing.

Djali addresses his fellow countrymen in his first language, Bambara, feeling the need above all else to give testimony of his journey. The road is difficult, a long and difficult journey. It’s also difficult to describe, a strange thing, an unimaginable thing. African kids are working as slaves. Djali senses his responsibility to inform, but also to admonish those who on beginning to construct their lives in Europe who, in an equally strange way, forget their roots and those who they left at home, those with nothing. You must always think about the ones that are poor.
Moral preoccupations permeate his words, while the music accompanying him migrates from Africa to Europe in sound.