My Favourite French Music Videos

[Note: depending on your hardware/software configuration you might have to refresh the page after playing a couple of the videos, and I have saved the best for last so bear with me!]

The one thing I have always wondered since I transplanted myself into the Francophone world is would I have come to appreciate so many of its wonders if I still counted English as my only European language? I probably would not and that is to me a real horror, as real as the horror as all the music, literature and beautiful things in languages that I don't speak and I am missing right now. Well anyway, from the goodness of my heart, and just because I have lots of time on my hands I want to give you my top five French music videos. Art is supposedly universal, so let's test that theory. Are you touched as a non-French speaker by any of these gifts of the la langue française to the world?

5. Zaho - Kif 'n' Dir

Zaho is Algerian and lives in Canada and sings in French and Arabic. She is by far my favourite Algerian singer/composer and this clip is a risky one for a foreign audience because most of what it relays visually is tied rather abstractly to the lyrics. Kif 'n' Dir is Arabic for What Should I Do and in this song Zaho is singing as a foreigner in a new land, looking around the emotionally desolate place that she now calls home and remembering the pain of her first love, her homeland Algeria. It's a powerful song that touched me many years ago as I found myself in her homeland, longing for mine.

Favourite lyric: "I wear this mask to look like the others. A failed boy, I'm a girl unlike the others...I'm tired of pretending I am strong so I'll play dead so I don't die"

4. Céline Dion - Pour Que Tu M'aimes Encore

Céline is either loved or hated but never unknown. Some people don't know her mother tongue is French though, and some don't realise that her music in French is more heartfelt and to my mind, more meaningful, than some (not all) her English tracks. This song in English is entitled, So That You Love Me Still and sold 955 000 copies in 12 weeks and is considered by French speakers to be one of her signature songs.

Favourite lyric: I'll look for your heart if you take it somewhere else...I'll look for you in the cold, in the flame, I'll cast a spell on you so that you love me still

3. Zaho - C'est Chelou 

Another one from Zaho, just for the fun of it. This clip is funny and silly and just so Zaho. It's title means, It's Fishy and is taken from the cry of a jealous girlfriend who finds her boyfriends actions not above board. The video is more than self explanatory!

Favourite Lyric: It's fishy the way she looks at you, and what's this thing of calling you baby? Tell that b*** that I'll smack her!

2. Sexion D'Assaut - Desolé

Sexion D'Assaut are big in France. It's a group of 8 French rappers from Paris and are known and loved in France for staying away from mainstream Hip Hop and remaining close to the underground scene. Their music is hard hitting, their lyrics raw and their videos cool. This clip is entitled Sorry.

No favourite lyric for this one because any translations lose any sense of rhythm they have in French!

1. Stromae - Papaoutai

Many non-French speakers might know the Rwandan origin but Brussel's born Stromae from his 2010 hit Alors On Danse, well he is back this time with a new album and this song that just kills me everytime. Entitled Papaoutai which means 'Dad Where Are You?' It's a raw, beautiful, deeply personal song for Stromae whose father was not in his life and the video rises to the beauty of the lyrics and the fast slinging beat that mixes Congolose Rumba guitar, Electro-House and Stromae's urgent plea. The video itself is just pure art!

Favourite Lyrics:
"Dad, please tell me where you are hiding, it's been almost a thousand times I've been counting my fingers" (From hide and seek where the seeker counts their fingers waiting for the hider to say 'come look for me')

"Everyone knows how to make a baby but no one knows how to make a father."

We Told You So: Why MDC lost the Zimbabwean Elections

Chris Nqoe is back! Nkosinqobile Dube (Chris Nqo) is a Zimbabwean Law graduate and also the Editor in Chief of dECK Magazine in Bulawayo. He has also been a speaker at Global Changemakers workshops as well as panels such as Al-Jazeera's The Stream, Channel Zim & Zimbabwean Radio.

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This is the point where I'd stick my tongue out and laugh till my ribs crack. Doing all that and still managing to utter the words: "I told you so".

I would be shouting those words at the top of my voice. That's if the fate of an entire country did not depend on this electoral outcome. I'd be saying that too, if the hopes, plans and dreams of millions of Zimbabweans had not been dashed by the X's of just under 3.4 million of their countrymen

But what exactly did me, Bongani and a few other analysts tell you would happen or not happen? We told you to Vote No to the draft constitution.[Click here for Chris' guest blog & here for mine].

That it was an imperfect compromise that would return to haunt Zimbabwe. And on the first days of howling, cold and bitter August, those words returned to haunt our lives.

My kindergarten self is again tempted to return to the What If mode. What if Zimbabwe had heeded the call of progressive minds and voted No? What if Zimbabweans had shown that the will of the people need not be predetermined by the positions set by political parties? What If Zimbabweans, for once in their independent lifetime took charge of their fate and demanded what they really want?

What if, what if, what if? What if we didn't answer the above questions? And instead focused on what next?

So many questions. However, in order for us to plan ahead, we need to understand where we got it wrong. For my fellow countrymen, the reality is starting to dawn on them, the future is uncertain. You see, in politics, there always has to be a plan. With a plan there must be an end goal and to get there requires strategy. Good strategy.

Now, let's look at the present state of affairs in Zimbabwe, who appears to have had a good plan and the perfect strategy to achieve their goal?

Yes, you're with me. Let's all say this at once: ZANU-PF.

And it all began in December 2012 at the ZanuPF Congress. They started planning. Frustrated by the constant checks and balances from their partners in the GNU, the revolutionary party decided they had had enough. The GNU was always going to conclude and elections would be held.

The first point in the ZanuPF plan was to achieve the seemingly impossible. Register one million new voters. The analysts laughed it off, their parties in the GNU gave it scant attention. ZanuPF got to work.

From January 2013 they have been working at mobilising their structures for Voter Registration, the referendum & subsequently, elections. The end goal was elections. As you read this you're aware of the Zimbabwe Election results of the year 2013. [Editors’ Note, if you are not, check out their Wikipedia page here]

Let's say it all again, who won? ZanuPF!

Alas I have jumped the gun. For all this to have taken place, so many processes had to kick it off.

Zimbabwe went to a referendum in March, at the behest of the major parties in the GNU. They had come up with a document, in which they all called for Zimbabwe to endorse. The COPAC Draft Constitution went to a popular referendum and was voted for overwhelmingly. I called the Draft Constitution a risky compromise, in thisblog post. Laid down the principles on why Zimbabwe should #VoteNo.

But we were lone voices in the wilderness of Yes choruses. Legal scholars, NGO's, Political analysts, the MDC-T, ZANU-PF and MDC-N all called upon Zimbabweans to #VoteYes. The MDC's all called for a vote Yes anticipating a victory in the upcoming elections, basing it on blind hope and belief that Zimbabwean would vote out ZANU-PF. ZANU-PF called for a Yes vote to get rid of the GNU and win the elections based on a popular mandate.

Perhaps what is most striking in August 2013 is how all the above players, are now singing from different hymn books. The discord is humorous for us, the so called progressive minds.

The conductor of this choir is now ZANU-PF. The pitch of voices has shifted. Whereas back in March they were heralding the dawn of a new era, with a New Constitution, the mood is one of sombre realisation. "We were cheated".

ZANU-PF is enjoying the chorus of discontent. For them, the pieces have all fallen into place.

No. You were not cheated. You cheated yourselves. You went into a game, without a strategy and without a plan. ZanuPF had one. Get more people to register to vote, #VoteYes for the Draft Constitution so as to end this power sharing agreement, call for elections and mobilise people to vote overwhelmingly for us. This has all been achieved. Perfectly so. It was all part of the bigger plan to get back into total control. ZANU-PF got here by getting the MDC's to endorse their own demise.

What if Zimbabwe had voted No? What if the new constitution had been rejected by progressive Zimbabweans who saw the bigger picture? What if we had all realised that by being told to Vote Yes, we were endorsing the beginning of the end?

What if that realisation can't help us now?

Zimbabweans Voted Yes to the new constitution because the dominant political parties told them to vote Yes. We did not bother to question the motive, ideals and principles behind this supreme law.

Fast forward to August 2013. The signs point to a ZANU-PF victory, the political party that called on Zimbabweans to endorse the unity shown by its partners in the GNU and Vote Yes. On the dawn of their victory, whispers have emerged that they are itching to correct the mistake of the New Constitution.

In simple terms ZANU-PF first goal in parliament and in power will be to amend the Constitution they endorsed.

What if we had put a bump to the constitution, allowed more time for fair voter registration, for a voters roll audit and to go into fair elections prepared? What if we had voted No? Followed our collective conscience as Zimbabweans, knowing what's best for our country and safe guarding the pillars of democracy.

What if we had known that politicians look after their interests first? Interrogated why they wanted us to Vote Yes to a draft constitution that did not reflect the true will of Zimbabweans.

We never did all those things. Like the MDC's we followed the ZANU-PF lead and were blindly led to a bleak and uncertain future. All because we never questioned and realised that power lay in us Zimbabweans saying No.

But again, we told you so. What if you had listened?

Follow @ChrisNqoe on Twitter

I Am Trayvon Martin

An African American student who is a friend of a friend of mine wrote on his Facebook wall that he was shocked by the Trayvon Martin verdict (see my previous blog here). Someone responded:

"Don't take this to heart. You are a very smart, very talented, handsome guy, don't let yourself be dragged into this mentality. You are not going to be shot- you carry yourself well, speak well, walk and dress well. Martin was not killed because of the color of his skin, he was killed because he got into a very violent altercation with an armed man...Martin, RIP, had pictures of marihuana (sic) in his cellphone, texts about buying a gun illegally, and lots of racist profanity against white Americans. This was not about race. I'm telling you because you are new to this country and while its true that there is racism out there, this case wasn't it....You're a smart, educated, good looking guy. Believe me, you're not Martin."

There is something fundamentally sad, something fundamentally wrong about this. Something that struck me to the core with an anger that felt almost powerless against such passive discrimination. It is a discrimination so silent, so cloaked in politeness you almost get hoodwinked by its seeming logic and tell yourself that all is well. But then the questions hits you: are people who carry images of marijuana in their phones supposed to be shot? Should we be shot for the content of our Whatsapp messages? Once those questions start coming in, the floodgates open: am I supposed to be safe because of the way I dress? If I dress like a "thug", should I be shot on sight? Is what a wear, an indicator of who I am? Are the lives of those who buy their clothes from Fifth Avenue in New York, Sandton City in Johannesburg or Sam Levy Village in Harare more valuable than those whose clothes are from the corner thrift shop?

"You are not going to be shot - you carry yourself well, speak well, walk and dress well...." Whites can carry and talk whichever way they want to but if a black person carries himself well, then he is safe. What does this imply for those who don't? Let's not fool ourselves. This is about race. This is about discrimination, about the snap judgements of those who see the world as simply black and white, good and bad, they who subscribe to Cersei Lannister's motto: "Everyone who isn't us is an enemy". Certainly George Zimmerman revealed as much in his call to Emergency Services, "...they always get away", he complained. Who is 'they' we might ask?

I talk well. I like to think I dress well and I carry myself well. I learn at one of Europe's best schools, so supposedly I am safe right? Wrong. I have been a Trayvon Martin so many times it hurts. In Algeria where I would be the only one made to get off the bus and unpack my baggage to be inspected at police roadblocks. One officer went so far as to taste my toothpaste. The fact that I was the only black on the bus does not seem that much of a coincidence. In university where my professors would call me "l'africain" instead of ever trying to learn my proper name.

In Germany where I was the only black on a flight filled with Europeans and Arabs, where I was pulled out of the queue at boarding and put in a little room and interrogated, my hand luggage searched, my laptop scanned and my passport stamps and visa's examined in great detail.

In South Africa where I was helping my cousin shop for her wedding dress and the white owners of the shop completely ignored us for twenty minutes but went running to a white couple who had just come in to ask the price of a necklace. At the South African Post Office where the white manager told me I was "a problem" and that I should go back home instead of trying to open a bank account with my "fake" passport.

But closest to home, the day I was approached by one of our white neighbours who lived in the complex where my parents live. In all my innocence, dressed well, speaking well, carrying myself well, she approached me and asked me what I was looking for there. Who cares that I had unlocked the gate with my security code, that I had actually had a conversation with her a few months earlier when I happened to meet her in the garden; no, no one cares. To her I was suspicious just for being there. I didn't belong there.

I didn't belong there in much the same way Trayvon Martin did not belong there that fateful evening. I looked strange for being as normal as I could possibly be, in much the same way Trayvon Martin looked strange for walking home slowly from the shops talking on his phone to his friend. I was guilty of something in much the same way Trayvon Martin was guilty of carrying images of marijuanna on his phone. Something just had to be wrong. Something just had to not click. So she came up to me and asked me what I was doing there.

We are all Trayvon Martin's. We are all judged and told we do not belong every time we walk into a shop and security starts surreptitiously following us around. Every time one of us gets shot for being afraid of the big Hispanic man following him in the dark night. Which one of us would not stand their ground? Trayvon Martin did. And George Zimmerman decided he didn't belong not only in that neighbourhood. But on this earth. And the jury agreed.

RIP Trayvon Martin.

"What is really injured, bruised, if you will, is the psyche of our national population. We are all harmed. We are all belittled, and we give to the rest of the world more ammunition to sneer at us." - Maya Angelou speaking on the Trayvon Martin verdict.

From Paris With Love: The Paris Air Show 2013

One of the wonderful things about living in Paris one would think, would be the feeling of being at the centre of the world, or near enough to it that it is all the same. Love tennis? Roland Garros is a metro ride away. Love cars? The Paris Motor Show is a train ride away. Love fashion? Go to Paris Fashion Week and if you love cycling go stand on the Avenue Champs Elysée in August to see the winner of the Tour de France cycle the last few metres to victory (we all know this time it won't be Lance Armstrong so it might actually be interesting again).

But the reality is I have always been too busy to attend any of these things. I remember well the Paris Motor Show coincided with my mid-semester exams. Sometimes what you are left with is a feeling of so near and yet so far away...but not today! I got to go to the Paris Air Show!
And the funny thing is that I actually wasn't going there when I woke up that day, a cancelled appointment left me in town with nothing to do and a quick phone call to a friend who assured me the first day of the show was free for students (one knows the reputation of Ndebele's and free things) saw me making my way to Le Borget one of Paris's four airports where it was being held.

So that's how I ended up at the show where dreams take flight. And oh how did they fly! Jets were making complicated shapes in the sky with the vapour jets behind then. French army pilots did breathtaking tricks that left me wondering if they were either highly trained, high on drugs, unafraid of death or all of the above. A French military unit showed the ever appreciative crowd how to fly a helicopter with six soldiers hanging from a rope below the aircraft like fruit flailing in the wind. To say we held our breaths as we watched them high above us with nothing but a rope and the pilot's skill between them and a Youtube worthy death would be an understatement.

And the whole world was there it seemed. Every European country seemed to have a stand showing off the latest in aeronautics. The Russians had a stand where two very Russian looking pilots (all they needed was a bottle of vodka to complete the scene) were posing for pictures in front of an adoring crowd. Civilian aircraft were posed next to unmanned drones and missile launchers a sobering reminder at times of the highly profitable market that is war. But I couldn't let myself become too philosophical, awe was the most appropriate word to describe the maze of space rockets and Formula 1 racers parked within reach. For a geek like me: it was heaven!

But even in the heaven of the Greeks certain gods dominated the arena and who else could dominate an Air Show but Airbus with their magnificent Airbus A380 parked in the centre of the exhibition. "Own the sky" was splashed on its side in bright blue letters and the logos of airlines, for once, were printed in small print near the bottom of the plane. I have never been a fan of the Engineering Sciences but today I could not but be in awe of the sheer technical and scientific genius that was able to bring 300 000 kilograms of aluminium into flight. And according to French media, between them today, Airbus amd Boeing signed deals worth 130 billion Euros.

And there were the lighter moments too. The commentator on the public address system had a highly developed sense of humour not to mention his heavily French accented English translations. And the makers of the Parrot iPhone controlled drones had them doing a simply delightful aerial dance routine. I just found myself wishing as I walked away that amongst the many flags that were flying today, I could have seen an African flag. We have come a long way but we still have some way to go. Reminded me a bit of an Eskom advert I saw a years ago:

Dreams speak to the man 

The man whispers his dreams to the stars 

The stars wink back and say, 

“Come up anytime you are ready”

Our time shall come.