ekottomagazine
NO. 56 - NOVIEMBRE 2026
Cultural Magazine - Revista Cultural
TABLE OF CONTENTS
There Are No More Excuses
Ripëlló rá aböbé
Michel Boss, Kenny Jhumpue, Jhones,
Apóstol Cefas, Salomón Ríos, M3ndy-J,
Chuku Nene and Papa Evio
Photos and videos
Where is the Bubi music?
Books and Promotion
Carlos Bolete Lobete
Culture, Society, Plus More
ekottomagazine.com
Ë KOTTÒ, is a magazine of the cultural field in all its disciplines.
We are committed to bringing culture closer to our readers. Our goal is to give visibility to sectors that lack this opportunity of presence in large media platforms.
Our publications will be monthly and will focus on four basic sections and four complementary sections.
EDITORIAL, INFORMATION, INTERVIEWS, ACTIVITIES.
1. EDITORIAL: A general account of a specific topic in each edition.
2. INFORMATION: Its content will be based on learning about our guests' backgrounds, or what could be called their résumés.
3. INTERVIEW. Focused on the professional sphere.
4. ACTIVITY: Focused on our guest's current activities.
OPINION
It is a section for sociocultural opinion articles.
SOKKÒ
It is a section with a variety of socio-cultural news.
POET'S BLOG
A section for poetry and poems.
EMPLUSTV
Ekotto magazine channel on YouTube.
Culture, society, plus more.
THE IMAGE
Interesting. Society and Culture.
With the magazine Ë KOTTÓ, we will bring culture a little closer to our homes.
Editorial
THERE ARE NO MORE EXCUSES
The thing is, I don’t know anything about my culture or my native language because my grandparents and parents never taught me about it or how to speak it.
There are no more excuses. Do your grandparents and parents speak English, French, German, Catalan, Basque, etc.? With some room for doubt, we can say no. And yet you’re fluent in more than two or three languages that aren’t part of your identity. That means that, if you want to, you can learn your language or get to know the culture of your ancestors.
And then there’s the typical argument that knowing my language—or, in some cases, my culture—doesn’t put food on the table, because speaking a Western language does guarantee me more opportunities to build a better life through work, etc.
Let us tell you that both are interesting and necessary, if it’s possible to achieve both. It’s also important to remember that knowing a Western language can improve your life, but being unaware of your roots robs you of your identity. How many people in the West with an extraordinary linguistic background find themselves unemployed? There are no more excuses.
African communities on the continent and in the diaspora are working to overcome all these concerns—which are sometimes based on mere excuses—by creating tools through social media platforms: websites, WhatsApp channels, and cultural profiles on YouTube, TikTok, etc., to exchange knowledge that supports the learning of our mother tongues and cultures.
In the specific case of the Bubi community, there are many spaces that help break down these barriers and leave excuses behind through reading programs, dialogues, debates, and learning activities designed to share experiences and continue learning.
In this November issue of Ekotto Magazine, you’ll be able to see, read, and hear about a variety of activities that highlight the work of different generations committed to this community.
In this editorial, we offer you the opportunity to discover all these spaces that you can visit or join in your free time to address your concerns and break down the barriers of excuses.
Join in, grow, and break down all these barriers. Learn more about your culture and master your native language through these cultural spaces in the Bubi community.
WhatsApp groups, channels, TikTok accounts, and websites.
TikTok profile: HABLEMOS EN BUBI
Reading group: BUBI LANGUAGE BOOK CLUB
WhatsApp channels: Ë RIBÖTYÖ KÁ NKWAÖ, Ë RUBI LË BILAKO BIA ABÓBË, EMPLUSTV.
WhatsApp Group: ËTYÖ ESO’O
Website: [www.etyotv.com](http://www.etyotv.com)
ETYOTV - YouTube.
Instagram: CULTURABUBI.
Remember this always.
Ë T Y Ö L A Ö T Y A
Story
RIPËLLÓ RÁ ABÖBÉ: MORE THAN JUST A PARTY
A celebration of Bubi culture, a gathering of different generations,
and a tribute to the unity of the peoples of Bioko.
Launched in late 2025, the year of Batóbiera, Ripëlló rá aböbé—the Bubi festival—emerges as a musical initiative that goes beyond entertainment. It is an invitation to celebrate Bubi cultural identity, strengthen ties among their communities, and bring the richness of their traditions to new generations. Because behind a song that invites you to dance, there may also be a story of belonging, memory, and cultural pride.
The project brings together artists from different towns in Bioko, turning music into a meeting point for different voices, experiences, and styles. From Rebola, Michel Boss and Jhones are participating; from Baney come Kenny Jhumpue, Apóstol Cefas, and Salomón Ríos; while Evio and M3ndy-J represent Bocoricho. Joining this group is Chuku Nene, one of the most renowned and veteran artists on the Bubi music scene, who is returning to a musical production after several years without releasing any music.
This diversity is no minor detail. The participation of artists from different generations and backgrounds reinforces one of the project’s central messages: Bubi culture is a shared heritage, capable of uniting its communities around a single artistic expression. The experience of the veterans and the energy of the younger artists thus come together in a song that seeks to represent a people through different voices.
Musically, “Ripëlló rá aböbé” combines melodies, rap, and traditional elements that connect the song to Bioko’s cultural roots. Kenny Jhumpue’s introduction gives way to Jhones’ melodic vocals, which intertwine with the rap performances of Michel Boss and Apóstol Cefas, creating contrasts that bring dynamism and variety to the composition.
Also standing out in this mix is M3ndy-J, whose performance imbues the track with a distinctly traditional character, full of strength and personality. Veteran Evio impresses us with his traditional dance performance, and Salomon Rios uses his powerful voice to pave the way for the great Chuku Nene.
The use of traditional elements, such as the elëbbó and the bötuttú, reinforces this connection to Bubi culture. The sound of the elëbbó, which recurs throughout the song, serves as one of its distinctive features and helps create a recognizable atmosphere. It’s not simply a matter of incorporating traditional instruments or sounds into a modern production, but of giving them a leading role within a musical project designed for the present.
The result is a composition that invites you to dance, but also reminds us that music can be a vehicle for transmitting culture—especially when it manages to connect with young audiences without abandoning its roots.
The music video brings the spirit of “Ripëlló rá aböbé” to Bocoricho, in southern Bioko. There, in mid-August, artists and local residents gathered to give visual form to a celebration that, from its inception, aimed to reflect community participation and the value of sharing traditions.
One aspect that deserves special attention is the dancers’ work. The participants rehearsed for weeks to prepare the choreography and bring to life a performance in which dance plays a central role. This preparatory effort reflects the dedication required for a cultural project of this nature and the importance of those who, through dance, help keep traditional expressions alive.
Among the most notable elements of the music video is the Moate, a dance characteristic of southern Bioko. Its presence not only adds movement and visual impact but also showcases a cultural expression linked to the region’s identity. The rehearsals and the dancers’ participation help this tradition find a place within a contemporary musical format, bringing it closer to those who may not be deeply familiar with it.
The shoot was marked by challenging weather conditions, but these did not prevent the artists and participants from seeing the day through. And the celebration did not end when the cameras stopped rolling. Once filming was complete, the artists themselves came together for a party to celebrate the work they had done, extending off-camera the atmosphere of joy and togetherness that the song seeks to convey. The final result is a video that is sure to generate a lot of buzz.
That moment largely encapsulates the spirit of the project. The celebration wasn’t just something to be staged for the cameras—it also arose naturally among the people who had participated. The music became an occasion to share, enjoy, and strengthen the bonds among those who made the production possible.
A song to celebrate who we are
Beyond its musical and audiovisual dimensions, “Ripëlló rá aböbé” prompts reflection on the role of artists in preserving and promoting Bubi culture. In a context where new generations are exposed to a wide range of musical influences, initiatives like this one can help ensure that the language, sounds, dances, and traditions of the Bubi people continue to be part of everyday life.
The project also highlights the importance of collaboration. The participation of artists from Rebola, Baney, and Bocoricho demonstrates that cultural creation can bridge the gaps between communities and bring together different perspectives around a common goal. This unity is expressed not only in the lyrics or the song’s message but also in the very way it was created: through the participation of musicians, dancers, and community members.
For initiatives like this to achieve their purpose, public support is essential. Listening to the song, sharing the music video, and helping spread it on digital platforms are concrete ways to help Bubi music find new audiences and reach more people, both on and off the island.
Ultimately, “Ripëlló rá aböbé” aspires to be much more than just a festive song. It aims to invite people to dance, stir emotions, and create memories, but also to celebrate a living culture—one that is passed down from generation to generation and continues to find new ways to express itself.
Because a party may last only a few hours, but what it represents can endure for much longer.
Interview
MICHEL BOSS
1. Michel, Ripëlló rá aböbé brings together artists from different towns on Bioko. What does it mean to you to be part of a project that seeks to unite the Bubi people through music?
Well, I'm proud to be part of a project as big as this one and to be able to do my small part. Congratulations on the initiative.
2. Rap is often used to express personal experiences, expose social realities, and convey messages. How have you managed to combine your musical style with the cultural intent of Ripëlló rá aböbé?
Well, it's all about enjoying what you do; it wasn't difficult at all to incorporate my musical style into “Ripëlló” since it's a cultural song.
3. At a time when many young people are listening to international music genres, what do you think is needed to get the younger generations more interested in Bubi sounds, languages, and traditions?
We need more involvement, more posts with images and videos, and more persistence from those of us who are already somewhat interested in our cause.
4. If, ten years from now, a young Bubi person hears “Ripëlló rá aböbé,” what would you like them to discover or feel through your participation in this song?
There are no limits when it comes to conveying a message—especially when it involves your language and traditions. We must have the will to make it happen for our people in the afterlife.
KENNY JHUMPUE
1. Kenny Jhumpue, you collaborated on “Batobiera,” a song dedicated to the Bubi language that was well received by the community, alongside Apóstol Cefas. What did that experience mean to you, and what did you learn from the audience’s response?
I learned that when you're about to do something that could turn out beyond your wildest dreams, take the time to do it as best as you can.
2. After Batobiera, you’re once again taking part in a project with a significant cultural dimension: Ripëlló rá aböbé. What connection do you see between the two projects, and how do their objectives differ?
The connection lies in the vision: with “Batobiera,” the goal was for the Bubi people and other ethnic groups to understand the importance of preserving a culture, a language, or a tradition.
And now, with “Ripëlló rá aböbé,” we’re continuing along the same path, showing that despite certain difficulties and barriers, we must persevere, move forward, and maintain a unity that strengthens us—giving up must not be an option.
3. Batobiera focused on the Bubi language, while Ripëlló rá aböbé seeks to celebrate the culture and unity of its peoples. Do you think music can be an effective tool for sparking young people’s interest in their cultural identity?
Yes, music is a great tool for that and so much more.
Music stirs up emotions; there are songs that, when you listen to them, you feel a connection to, and that inspires you.
How could you not take advantage of something like that!
4. The Batobiera experience demonstrated that there is community interest in music with cultural content. How could this momentum be harnessed to ensure the continuity of projects of this kind?
For us artists, that means a lot more to us.
Because without the motivation from our listeners, we’d lose the positive energy we need to work with, and that would lead us into a kind of decline.
As for those who support us as advisors, financially, in kind, etc.,
that shows them that their dedication isn’t in vain and that, together, we can achieve more.
JHONES
1. Jhones, your voice adds a melodic dimension to “Ripëlló rá aböbé.” What was it like for you to be part of a song that aims to be much more than just a festive tune?
Personally, when this adventure began, I didn't know what to expect, and I didn't have high expectations either. But I have to admit that being part of that team was one of the best experiences I've ever had working with others: it's that mix of tradition, music, jokes, and camaraderie that made those days a unique experience and a happy memory I'll always cherish.
2. The song combines melodies with rap verses and traditional elements.
The Bubi language itself is a priceless treasure. And when we add to that an artistic expression as beautiful as music—which blends various genres—the result is a unique piece, a transgenerational anthem.
What possibilities does this blend offer for developing a unique musical identity within contemporary Bubi music?
3. Do you think music can be a tool for connecting young people with their cultural roots without giving up contemporary musical styles? Why?
My answer to this question is a resounding YES.
I know firsthand the power music has to touch, shape, and transform people’s lives. That’s why there’s no better way to remind young people of who we are and where we come from than through music.
4. Beyond its musical success, what would have to happen for Ripëlló rá aböbé to leave a lasting mark on Bubi culture?
The music already has everything it needs to be a success and, therefore, to leave a lasting impression, but if we also want it to stand the test of time, the message needs to reach as many people in our culture as possible—and for that to happen, our people must be able to understand the Bubi language.
APÓSTOL CEFAS
1. From Batobiera to Ripëlló rá aböbé
Apostle Cefas, Batobiera—the musical project you shared with Kenny Jhumpue to defend and promote the Bubi language—was well received by the community. What did that experience mean to you, and what did you learn from the audience’s response?
From Batobiera to Ripëlló, that experience
means a lot to me and is an added bonus for my career, and what I learned from the audience is to work constantly because there’s a lot of hunger and a thirst for music on their part.
2. Following Batobiera, you’re now participating in Ripëlló rá aböbé. What connection exists between the two projects, and what new goals are you setting for yourself with this song?
The connection between the two projects is that one marks the beginning of the journey (Batóbiera) and the other involves walking that path (Ripëlló rá aböbé). My main goal with Ripello ra bobe is to bring happiness, joy, peace, and a festive spirit to the homes of my community and the surrounding area.
3. Batobiera focuses on the Bubi language, while Ripëlló rá aböbé aims to celebrate the culture and unity of its peoples. How do you understand the relationship between language, music, and cultural identity?
The relationship between language, music, and cultural identity is very simple: music encompasses everything related to a community’s customs through sounds and rhythms, and those sounds are accompanied by words—and the words help us understand the language, ethnicity, and culture.
4. Rap as a Cultural Tool
As a rap artist, how do you use your lyrics to convey messages that go beyond entertainment and connect with the cultural reality of your community?
Rap as a Cultural Tool
If I had to name an effective method, it would be to embody the Bubi spirit in my speech and guard my words; in this way, I easily connect with the cultural reality of my community.
5. On Ripëlló rá aböbé, you share the stage with artists of different styles and backgrounds. What was the collaboration process like, and what does rap bring to the musical mix of this song?
For me, the collaborative process was a positive experience because each artist gave it their all, and they bring the vibrant energy of the Bubi people’s youth.
6. Do you think urban genres, such as rap, can become effective tools for introducing young people to Bubi culture? What advantages do they have over other forms of cultural dissemination?
First of all, I’d like to say that I don’t think rap is a tool—no, I know that wherever rap is played, it easily captures young people’s attention, and as a community, we should take advantage of this to convey our values to the youth. One of the advantages is that it’s the fastest and easiest way to get the message across—because rap conveys things that Mom and Dad never mention at home, whether they’re positive or negative.
SALOMÓN RÍOS
1. Your musical career includes songs in the Bubi language dedicated to God, heaven, and paradise. What led you to use music as a way to express your faith and convey spiritual messages in your native language?
If I include music—even though it’s my secret weapon—it bothered me just to hear songs in other languages but not in my own, and I felt unsettled inside. I came to the conclusion that, to speak to my people, it’s better to use their own language so they can grasp the message quickly and directly, and so that the new generation will know how to worship God in their mother tongue.
2. In Ripëlló rá aböbé, you’re taking part in a project that celebrates Bubi culture from a festive and community-oriented perspective. What has it been like for you to go from performing songs with religious themes to being part of a song that invites people to celebrate the identity and unity of the Bubi people?
As a musician, my mission is to convey messages through melodies, and “Ripëlló rá aböbé” represents my culture as a Bubi—it’s part of my identity.
That’s great, because it’s part of my culture, and it’s a song that unites us as a people, as a community. Its message nourishes the soul of my Bubi people, and this makes me proud as a musician and as a Bubi.
3. How important is it to you to sing in the Bubi language, both in your religious songs and in this project? Do you think music can help keep the language alive for future generations?
This is very important to me because it makes Bubi music heard all over the world.
Yes, because if they hear Bubi music, it would encourage them to learn Bubi—since when they listen, they’ll start asking questions—and it’s also a very direct way to learn quickly.
4. Based on your experience, what values do religious music and a cultural initiative like Ripëlló rá aböbé have in common? What message would you like to convey to the Bubi community through your participation in this song?
Religious music speaks to us of the sovereign, the Almighty, the “I Am,” the good things He has prepared for us, and the plan He has for His people.
“Ripello Ra Bobe” conveys part of our Bubi culture.
Together we can do it; let’s not let our culture be lost, because culture is our true identity—let’s value what is ours.
DJ CARRLESH
1. As a sound engineer, what was the recording and production process like for Ripëlló rá aböbé in your studio? What challenges did you face working with so many artists, each with their own style and way of performing?
It was great...
- The challenge was making sure the project turned out well; even with such a diverse mix of artists, there was never any discord—everything turned out just as I’d always hoped, and that’s a source of pride for me as a producer.
2. The song combines melodic vocals, rap, and traditional elements of Bubi culture, such as the sound of the elebo. How did you go about
integrating all these elements to give the song its own unique sound while preserving its cultural essence?
The truth is, I'm really proud to talk about that part of the project, even though it wasn't that easy to pull off something like that—but I did it, since I've been making similar instrumentals for a while now, and also because of the experience I've gained from group projects and other projects that weren't exactly the same but were somewhat similar...
3. Beyond your technical work, what does it mean to you to contribute, from the studio, to a project that seeks to promote Bubi culture and bring together artists from different parts of Bioko? Do you think music producers also play an important role in the preservation and dissemination of traditional music?
It means a lot to me to contribute to collaborative projects, especially if they deal with Bubi culture—and even more so when it involves collaborating with artists from different towns and communities… The truth is, it’s not easy to bring such elements together, but the best results usually come when you give it a try and the outcome is positive; that experience is unforgettable…
Of course, music producers play a very important role in the preservation and dissemination of traditional music, because it’s not just about creating an instrumental piece and saying that it’s a traditional one—it’s not just that… It’s also about knowing and identifying the instruments and sounds to use to give that traditional instrumental piece its identity…
4. Carles, to be a good music producer, you know it takes a lot of training and knowledge of different sounds. Do you think your participation in the sound workshop at the cultural center helped you improve your skills as a music engineer?
Not so much as a producer,
but as a sound engineer, it did help me, and taking part was beneficial.
M3NDY-J
1. M3ndy-J, you are one of the young artists from Bocoricho participating in Ripëlló rá aböbé. How do you feel about being part of a project that aims to represent Bubi culture and bring together artists from different communities?
It has been an enormous pleasure for me to be part of this project. Although we also have other artists in the southern region who make music and work to promote our culture, the fact that they thought of me and gave me the opportunity to be part of this initiative made me feel very fortunate and, above all, valued.
To tell the truth, the time we had to work was short, but the result was amazing. From day one, I welcomed the idea of fusing so many musical styles and bringing together artists from different towns around a common goal.
Personally, I believe initiatives like this are necessary because they allow us to get to know each other better, discover what each of us can contribute, and, above all, understand that we have much more
to gain by working together than by going our separate ways.I sincerely hope that this is just the beginning of many other collaborations and that the project continues to grow, bringing in more artists and reaching more and more people.
2. You also participated in Evobe, the Bubi mother tongue festival. What did you learn from that experience, and what connection do you see between your participation in that festival and this new musical project?
Well, I think that ever since the Mother Tongue Festival began, we artists have gotten to know each other much better, and—what I consider even more important—we’ve shown a greater willingness to work together. That’s something that didn’t happen very often before.
I believe EVOBE has helped bridge certain gaps between us and has allowed us to discover that, regardless of where we’re from, we share the same culture and have a common goal: to keep it alive.
The connection with Ripëlló rá aböbé is quite clear. In both projects, I see that desire to come together, but in the latter, I’ve had the opportunity to take it a step further: not only to perform alongside great artists from the north, but to share a musical project with them and collaborate directly.
To be honest, I’d like us to have many more opportunities like this, because I feel like the song was too short. I, for example, had so much more to say and contribute, but I’m left with the satisfaction of having been part of something so beautiful—and with the hope that better times are ahead.
I hope we can continue to create spaces where artists not only come together but also build projects together. Because getting to know each other is great, but collaborating, supporting one another, and producing together is what can truly make a difference.
3. As a young artist, how do you strike a balance between the musical styles you listen to today and the sounds, language, and traditions of your culture?
Well, these days I think it’s hard to find an artist who maintains a completely unique style, because practically all of us, in one way or another, adapt to what the market and listeners demand.
Today, young people are one of the groups that consume our music the most. That’s why, sometimes we try to create something that connects with older generations, and other times we look for sounds that appeal to younger people. But I believe that adapting doesn’t mean giving up our identity.
We can experiment with modern rhythms, fuse different genres, and explore new ways of making music—but without forgetting where we come from, our language, our sounds, and our traditions.
In my case, I try to make sure every song has something to convey. I like to leave a message, offer advice to people, or tell a real story that someone can relate to.
I believe that’s the true balance: evolving musically without losing our roots. We don’t have to choose between being modern and preserving our culture; we can do both and show that our identity also has a place in today’s music.
4. Bocoricho is represented in this project by artists from different generations, such as Evio and you. What can young people learn from veteran artists, and what do you think young people can contribute to Bubi music?
Well, personally, I learn something new from Mr. Evio every day—even every second we spend together. He’s a person with a wealth of experience, and I always find something new to learn from him.
For example, he teaches me how to express certain ideas more effectively, because sometimes you might have something really beautiful to say but can’t quite find the right words to convey it. Sometimes, I also help him out with small details. He may have a very clear idea of what he wants to express, and we work together on the lyrics until we find a way to adapt them to the beat.
What I value most about working with him is that, in addition to teaching, he’s also open to learning. He understands that today’s music scene is much more modern than it was a few years ago and that generations evolve as well. That willingness to share knowledge and learn from one another is something we should value immensely.
I believe that veteran artists have experience and knowledge that we cannot afford to lose. They know our culture, our language, and many of the expressions that are part of our identity. We young people, for our part, can contribute new ideas, sounds, production styles, and different ways of bringing our music to new generations.
But the most important thing is that both generations understand that we need each other.
Music has the power to transcend time. The songs we create today may continue to be heard long after we’re gone and become a source of learning for those who come after us. That’s why we must strive to master our vernacular language, cherish our artistic expressions, and continually refine our compositions.
Ultimately, it’s not just about creating songs for the present, but about building a musical and cultural legacy that can be passed down from generation to generation.
As I’ve already said, we have so much to learn from our veteran artists, and we’re truly fortunate to have people like Mr. Evio, who are willing to teach and share their knowledge.
I’d also like to take this opportunity—even though it may not have been part of the questions—to sincerely thank you for the work you’re doing to preserve our culture and, especially, for creating opportunities for young people like us to get more involved.
I believe we should all share that same vision.
If every person, every artist, and every community did their part, the ripple effect could yield extraordinary results.
My hope is that this project won’t remain merely a musical production, but that it will continue to grow, become established, and, over time, open doors for many more artists. May it be a meeting place where we can learn, teach, collaborate, and demonstrate that our culture has so much to offer.
Because preserving a culture isn’t just about talking about it, but also about practicing it, passing it on, keeping it relevant, and leaving it in good hands for future generations.
As long as that remains the goal, M3ndy-J will always be ready to do his part.
Thank you very much for the opportunity and for the work you’re doing.
CHUKU NENE
1. After several years away from releasing music, you’re back with Ripëlló rá aböbé, a project that also includes a music video. What motivated you to return to music at this time, and what does this comeback mean to you?
Well, as for what motivated me to return to music, I have to thank Michel Boss, because I had already said I wouldn't go back to music. A lot of things happened that I can't talk about. In fact, I was really happy when Michel came to find me and asked me to return to music. Este regreso significa muchísimo para mí. Estoy muy alegre y muy contenta. Me ha gustado muchísimo lo del videoclip de Ripello, porque tampoco me lo había planteado nunca: hacer un proyecto con videoclip y participar también con el grupo, junto a Michel. Ha sido un proyecto entre ambos.
For me, it’s like being born again. What can I say? I’m so happy—really. It’s like starting over in music, just like the first time, when I started singing at age six. Honestly, I’m happy—I’m so, so happy.
I’m also really happy about the music video, and I’ll always be so grateful for it. Seriously, because without it, I wouldn’t be back on these stages where I am now. I’m so, so grateful to Michel Boss, truly.
2. You are one of the most well-known and veteran Bubi artists, and you have achieved a level of popularity that doesn’t seem so common today among young musicians in the community. Why do you think the new generations of Bubi artists aren’t achieving the same level of success that you did in your day? What’s missing: the artists’ training, promotion, public support, the music industry, or opportunities?
Well, I'd say there's a huge lack of support—a huge lack of support. Because it's not like it was in my day, when I first started out in music.
They need a lot of help and a lot of support, really. Without that support and without that help, they can't move forward, because things aren't like they were in our day. We had a lot of help and a lot of support, seriously.
3. At Ripello ra abobe, you share the stage with artists from different generations and towns across Bioko. How do you view this collaboration between veterans and young artists, and what do you think the new artists can learn from the experience of those who paved the way for Bubi music?
Well, I’d say that times today aren’t the same as they were in my day, because the music people are singing these days doesn’t have the same rhythm as ours.
Now I’m seeing that young people are singing songs that we didn’t sing back in our day. There are rhythms that aren’t ours, like makossa or zouk. If you told a young person today to sing to the same rhythm I sing to, they probably wouldn’t go for it, because they’re already used to hip-hop, funk, and other styles.
These are rhythms I don’t even know very well myself, and I hardly know how to dance to them. But, well, when you’re on the dance floor, you just go with the flow.
Even so, I’d advise them to have a little dignity and try to change up the rhythms they’re singing a bit. There are songs being sung lately that, in my opinion, are off-limits, because even young children are dancing to them, and they shouldn’t be sung. In my day, we couldn’t sing songs like that.
That’s why I’d advise them to change up the rhythms a bit and also incorporate some of the rhythms from our time. But I don’t think they’d listen to this advice either, because we already know that it’s sometimes really hard to give advice to young people these days.
4. With your return, you’re once again lending your voice and image to a project that seeks to celebrate Bubi culture. What would you like the audience to remember about Chuku Nene through this song, and what advice would you give to young people who dream of making a name for themselves in Bubi music?
Well, as for Ripello’s project, I have to say I really loved it.
I’d like young people who watch this music video to always remember it—deeply—even after I’m gone. I’d like them, every time they sit down to watch this video, to remember what we recorded together—the band and Ripello’s music—because I really loved it.
I’d like it to be a great memory for me, but I’d also like it to be a great memory for the entire audience and for all those young people who might look to it as an example.
I lost hope once, but I’d advise them not to lose hope, because it’s never too late.
PAPA EVIO
1. Evio, you’ve been involved with Bubi music for years. Based on your experience, how has the way Bubi music is made and listened to evolved over time?
I've seen Bubi music evolve nicely in terms of its instrumental aspects, in terms of its instrumental aspects. And those young people show a lot of promise, too.
2. You participated in Evobe, the Bubi mother tongue festival. How important is music in preserving a language and passing on culture to future generations?
If we're talking about this festival—the one that took place in 2003—that's what launched me into the world, into the artistic world, because it all started with that event held in Bocoricho. The young people encouraged me. I had the music—some songs I'd composed a long time ago—but I didn't feel like doing any of it anymore. They encouraged me, funded the music, and here I am.
3. You are now part of Ripello ra abobe, a project that brings together veteran and young artists. What does it mean to you to share the stage and work on a project with a generation that is exploring new musical styles?
I'm proud to be singing and making music alongside so many young people. It's truly wonderful and promising. I hope this project exceeds expectations. It's a very positive experience.
4. As a veteran Bocoricho artist, what would you like to convey to young Bubi musicians, and what do you hope they will contribute to the future of our music?
Well, speaking of the new generation of artists, Bubis says that first and foremost, we have to be artists ourselves—it has to be him and no one else.
You have to be creative, because in my case, I understand music and have a good ear for it. When I hear someone imitating someone else’s music, I automatically dismiss them because they can’t create their own stuff. Sure, you can modernize your music, but you have to be yourself. For example: Cheri Male is Cheri Male. Sita Richi is Sita Richi. And I am me.
But I hear a lot of Guineans—and I’m not just talking about the Bubi kids who automatically copy Nigerian music—and I don’t see those singers as real singers because they don’t create their own material. And I tell the young Bubis that we should try to sing in Bubi, since singing is a form of communication. You send a message to the world, to the people, and we should be—forgive the redundancy—creative.
Closing question: If you could leave a legacy through your music, what would you like future generations to remember about you and Bubi culture?
So the legacy I can leave behind in terms of music is that I am myself. And nothing else. I don’t want to imitate anyone else’s music.
I plan to keep creating until the Lord takes my breath away—to remain myself, just like those I just mentioned, who are true to themselves because they are who they are.
And if you listen anywhere, you’ll know that this is Sita Richi—and if I were to imitate a Nigerian artist’s style, that would completely discredit me. So, let’s move forward and hope everything goes well, and that artists don’t take offense. I just like people who create and are creative. Good morning.
Activity
OPINION
BÖSUBÓBBÈ MAY MATA
Where Is the Bubi Music? The Silence of a New Generation
There was a time when you could spend hours listening to one great song after another by Bubi artists. From Mastho Ribocho to Muana Sinepi, including Sita Richi, Cheri Male, and so many others, Bubi music had a presence, an identity, and, above all, an audience. Even from Spain, it was possible to enjoy our musical roots. Who doesn’t remember those New Year’s Eve nights watching Las Hijas del Sol perform on Spanish television? Or those moments when all you had to do was turn on the radio to hear songs like “Sibeba”?
However, in the 21st century—an era in which social media has multiplied the possibilities for creating, recording, and distributing music—we find ourselves facing a paradox: the music of the new generations of Bubi artists seems to have disappeared from the music scene. It is as if our new talents had been silently banished.
Where are the new voices? Why don’t their songs achieve the same reach and recognition that previous generations did?
We could blame the public for consuming less music by our artists or point the finger at the musicians themselves for not promoting their work sufficiently. It’s true that, from time to time, we come across young people from our community on social media sharing their latest songs and projects. There’s talent, there’s initiative, and there’s a desire to make music. But it seems that something is going wrong along the way between creating a song and getting it to the public.
The issue, therefore, deserves deeper reflection. What did previous generations have that seems to be missing today? Is it a matter of promotion, musical quality, the evolution of sounds, or a lack of structures that would allow us to develop our own music industry?
Perhaps the time has come to explore new sounds without losing our identity—to invest in musical training, instruments, production, arrangements, and composition. It’s also time to focus on aspects we sometimes push to the background, such as choreography, stage direction, artistic image, and promotional strategies. It’s not enough to simply ask for support for our musicians; we must also ask ourselves what kind of support they truly need to grow and compete in an increasingly demanding music scene.
Perhaps the support our young artists need isn’t just about sharing their songs on social media or congratulating them on their new work. Maybe we should invest in their training, create opportunities for promotion, foster collaborations among artists, and facilitate access to music production professionals.
It’s not about remaining stuck in nostalgia or demanding that new artists replicate exactly what Las Hijas del Sol or the big names of that era did. It’s about reclaiming the power, quality, and ability to connect with audiences that characterized our music, adapting them to the sounds and demands of the modern era.
Bubi music shouldn’t be merely a memory of who we were, but a living expression of who we are and who we can become. If our songs once managed to cross borders and be heard, there’s no reason to accept that today they’re doomed to circulate only among our social media contacts.
Perhaps we don’t lack talent. Perhaps we lack a collective strategy to turn that talent into music that is heard, recognized, and leaves a lasting impact.
Because a culture that stops listening to its own music runs the risk of losing a part of its voice.
BÖSUBÓBBÈ MAY MATA
Poet's Blog
ËBARI LË ÁTTO*
Na halló ë bisóppí biè ërubba bí pérö booba habba hellá hè *Iobotyobotyo* na ë työkkó ë tyí há séttaèlla.
I búbbú ya ítyí ë bëḿpo biáö, ë itóhi rí a tyátyöri a bańtanta bá batté, ëá ba sèro o hèya.
Ërubba è ëbari ë la béëla i kólla, ë áttë ënné ë työkkó kè ëhuèhuè è billó immá.
Na halló, lèllo, há la hḾmèlla ribötyö rihè, habba hellá ha la ríöbba relá.
Hè habba na ë rihólè ri ókkama a bahuèe.
Hè habba hellá, ë ribolló bötéllo, há la áttëa bihuto, há la akkó bësörí la binëkánëkka, na bi tyáa öppá’a ká bí la huëa.
Ëtyé ë ribötyö rá ömma ri la papèlla'ë, káhò ette ri la sétella há rá bötyö wellá.
Ë ripë’u ri la mpölla rè, i nö’ó lë bisalóle, la la työtyóbia ö tösòpísòpi tö la tyiálla tö ë télle bötèllo.
Ë bëtyíö bí la sáalló billakó,
kóri ötyòma bí tyá síbba télle ná iláppu la wera ë bësekka biá betyö.
Ë bilabba biè úwèró a labbé: a baiè tyía ókkia sibèllö samuáe sí pusálle la bòllá. Ë bétyibi lë birikiriki bi bá úberi ë rihólè rá bòllá bábbò. Ëmmai a baíssö bëllé!
Ë billó bí la úkuba kasökasö.
I nokkò ná yè la lëkèlla ba
a bëtyö la púplla o hutya ö löréi, ë ripé’ám ri ta beí hábba wá’é, tyálla tyóo tótora obbó, Tyá sóttë ë bihóttö bí hétte.
Ë riökkö rí húbièria abëtyö,
ë biátto bí hétyió kua yá bëkotto.
Ë ibarityiö, ë ëhuéhué ë po hétyölla sótte ë biúhá bi lépeya biè i nabba yáó attá.
Ë bësotyi biè itóhi bi la pélla ö tókkó tö booba.
Hè amma bá la rá i hḾmè yá batyílé babbò, hé bellá bá la hútta ë ibekké biábo, bá la mpura ë biéllá biábo, bá háam *bëlokko biè ëkura*.
*(Lösöbbé) Bolete Lobete*
Si aquí las gotas del rocío riegan la tierra, hay un lugar donde el *desierto* y la sequía no cesan.
El polvo irrumpe en nuestras fosas nasales, el sol diseca por completo las hojas de los árboles.
El rocío de la mañana anticipa las lluvias, la sequía el calor de cada día.
Si aquí, hoy, germina una nueva vida, en otro lugar se desvanece otra.
Hay un lugar donde el amor une a las familias.
Hay otro lugar, con el odio se rompen los nudos, se trenzan cuerdas con lianas, esas que pronto serán desatadas.
Donde empieza la vida de uno, allí la de otro se acaba.
El retoño que germina, los platanares y las malangueras absorben la savia que encuentran a su paso.
Algunos trabajan en la noche porque nunca esta obstruye el camino si la luz alumbra la senda de los mortales.
Las buenas obras se han vuelto malas: los padres andan agitados que no hayan tiempo para sus hijos. Las fatigas y las redes sociales les han robado el amor de sus hijos. ¡Pobre de sus mujeres!
Los días se oscurecen rápido.
Mientras los ojos dormitan los hombres aprenden a madrugar en busca del pan, aunque la recompensa no es suficiente, el objetivo es saciar el hambre; hasta que pasen las horas.
La alegría se apagó en los rostros, las tardes están vestidas de luto.
En las mañanas, el calor puede desnudar incluso los huesos que descansan bajo nuestra piel.
Los rayos del sol llegan al núcleo de la tierra.
Algunos comen del sudor de sus ancestros, otros empinan sus codos, llenando sus estómagos, se parecen *esclavos del trago.*
*Carlos Bolete Lobete*
*Lösöbé*
EmplusTV
Bësákko Biá Rihólè – Mujer Bubi en Tejido Africano
Por Platforma Cultura Bubi, en colaboración con la revista Ekotto
The Image
ITÈ
Stone
Piedra
Ë KOTTÒ
Publisher
Diversity Ëtyö Project
Magazine Director
Barbara May
Editor in Chief
Tomás May Pelico
Designer
Böhulá
Colaboration
Eduardo May Mata
ISSN 2833-4124
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All rights reserved.
May not be reproduced without the written permission of Ë KOTTÒ.
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