Hospitaleiros

[Azagaia]
The blame's been single since they were good folks
Welcoming ships from the West with fabrics from the East
To dress their women
It’s not new that they trade gold
For silverware, beads, watches, cars
And accents, missionary churches selling miracles
It’s not new that they’re priests and killers too
In the name of one, they kill a hundred
In hospital lines, nurses have doctors
It’s not new that they trade lives for containers
It’s not new that they have arms and legs wide open
Ready to receive love and affection
None of this is new, hospitality’s ancient
The art of welcoming with empty bellies, shirtless kids
With hungry bellies attracting donations to the table
Of those who eat, meaning we worked for the foreigner to see
We’re just fertilizer to grow their money
Growing their cash, growing our fields
Here’s in mourning, everything’s bought and sold
Starting with people who pay tickets to live
And those who come by plane to get rich

[Flash Enccy]
More than business in this hospitable land, it rains so much
But whenever he arrives, he’s treated like a white guy
Taken to hotels and treated like a saint
With so much show-off in our hospitals
Patients treated in exchange for cash and more
Behind the hospitals, there are beggars sleeping on newspapers
Because they were forgotten in the wall of shame, dead-end alleys
Tourists throw parties, kids without food
Coup d'états generating political crises
Bad deals leading to judgment
Bread’s gone up, no certainty if we eat
Men are racist even in the hospital, capable of killing
For lack of one metical
Foreigners have more say than you think
Economic power is above what you think
Here, if you blink, you sleep in jail, they take your woman and your sight
They live in luxury hotels, others on the ground
The people work hard but live in exploitation

Hina ilanza vhale kule
Hina hi nyenya la vha hina
Loku mupfumba atafamba
Hita sala na mani
Sala na mani

Hina hi nyenya swa le kaya
Hina hi shanisa (shavhisa) makweru
Loku mupfumba ata famba
Hi tá sala na mani
Sala na mani

[Azagaia e Flash Enccy]
Mozambican hospitality (Mozambican hospitality)
Is letting what’s home go hungry
Is seeing the foreigner get rich here at home
With so many hospitable folks, I see foreigners but when the house
Burns down, I don’t see firefighters
I don’t see anything in my account, I’m from here
The musician who only sings when someone gets married
And they give houses and drivers to those coming from abroad
Others don’t even greet us, they sing and leave
We receive donations from the people in misery
But they take those funds to their pockets in the Assembly
And when the white guy arrives, they hand over all the gold
Hand over natural resources and treasure
So much hospitality, paradise beaches, open borders
White and rich skins while we struggle
For a loan at the bank, it seems the country’s been mortgaged to a white guy
They corrupt ministries, promote cemeteries, bury
More bodies than they killed in mystery
Here in hospitals, the doctor is sick
They kill the sick, indifferent criminals, so many opportunists
Voluntary suicides
Students without jobs, ghosts without salaries

Hina ilanza vhale kule
Hina hi nyenya la vha hina
Loku mupfumba atafamba
Hita sala na mani
Sala na mani

Hina hi nyenya swa le kaya
Hina hi shanisa (shavhisa) makweru
Loku mupfumba ata famba
Hi tá sala na mani
Sala na mani