[female
vocals] (
Soft
piano
melody
fades
in) (
Distant,
rhythmic,
subdued
hand
drum)
Fungua
njia,
Victor...
The
chains
are
not
always
made
of
iron,
Sometimes
they
are
made
of
ego.
We
spent
our
history
pointing
fingers
at
the
shore,
Blaming
the
pale
strangers
for
the
closing
of
the
door.
The
Arabs,
the
Portuguese,
the
ghosts
of
long
ago,
We
thought
the
cruelty
came
from
those
we
did
not
know.
But
as
the
dust
settled
on
the
path
we
tried
to
tread,
We
saw
the
hands
that
shackled
us,
the
tears
that
we
had
shed.
It
wasn't
just
the
white
man,
no,
the
mirror
shows
the
lie,
A
brother
held
the
chain
while
the
other
had
to
cry.
Victor,
fungua
njia,
open
up
the
way,
Your
power
is
a
shadow
fading
out
at
end
of
day.
Kilombero
screams
in
silence,
waiting
for
the
light,
While
you
build
your
walls
and
bury
us
in
middle
of
the
night.
Fungua
njia,
Victor,
let
the
people
pass
through,
Because
power
is
a
cycle,
and
it
turns
away
from
you.
Now
you
sit
inside
the
office
of
the
sugar
mill
so
tall,
While
the
children
wait
for
passage,
answering
your
call.
You
tell
them
go
to
the
river,
take
a
boat
across
the
stream,
To
reach
the
life
they're
chasing,
to
reach
the
common
dream.
This
is
a
new
colonialism,
a
darkness
in
the
skin,
Don't
blame
the
distant
nations
for
the
rot
that
dwells
within.
You
block
the
road
to
medicine,
you
block
the
path
to
care,
Is
this
the
heavy
burden
that
you
think
you
have
to
bear?
Victor,
fungua
njia,
open
up
the
way,
Your
power
is
a
shadow
fading
out
at
end
of
day.
Kilombero
screams
in
silence,
waiting
for
the
light,
While
you
build
your
walls
and
bury
us
in
middle
of
the
night.
Fungua
njia,
Victor,
let
the
people
pass
through,
Because
power
is
a
cycle,
and
it
turns
away
from
you.
Can
you
hear
the
children
walking,
feet
upon
the
mud?
Does
their
future
matter,
or
do
you
crave
their
blood?
Authority
is
fleeting,
it’
s
a
vapor
in
the
heat,
One
day
you'll
be
the
one
left
standing
lonely
on
the
street.
Don't
trade
your
soul
for
sugar,
don't
trade
it
for
a
gate,
Before
the
final
judgment
seals
your
bitter,
lonely
fate.
Fungua
njia,
the
schoolhouse
calls,
the
future
needs
to
grow,
You're
cutting
off
the
harvest
that
you
never
dared
to
sow.
The
curse
is
in
the
closing,
the
blessing
in
the
start,
Victor,
find
the
human
beating
deep
inside
your
heart.
Let
the
people
walk
the
road,
let
the
village
breathe
again,
Before
you’
re
just
a
memory
of
the
men
who
caused
us
pain.
Victor,
fungua
njia,
open
up
the
way,
Your
power
is
a
shadow
fading
out
at
end
of
day.
Kilombero
screams
in
silence,
waiting
for
the
light,
While
you
build
your
walls
and
bury
us
in
middle
of
the
night.
Fungua
njia,
Victor,
let
the
people
pass
through,
Because
power
is
a
cycle,
and
it
turns
away
from
you.
Madaraka
huisha,
Victor.
Power
fades,
Victor.
Just
open
the
way.
Let
them
pass. (
Fading
piano
and
soft
percussion)
Fungua
njia. (
Silence)