April 30 2011. The lyrics of Tiken Jah Fakoly’s reggae song ‘Quitte le pouvoir’ reverberated through Ibrahim Traoré, each word a sharp reminder of the mounting tension in his country. He was only 23, his military boots still fresh from the dust of training, with just two years of service under his belt. But, like every Burkinabè, he could feel the nation’s weariness.
The streets murmured with frustration. President Blaise Compaoré had clung to power for 24 relentless years – longer than Traoré had been alive.
“Quitte le pouvoir, quitte le pouvoir!” (Leave power, leave power!), thundered the crowd in Ouagadougou in, their voices rising like a storm in the thick, hot air. This song, by the Ivorian reggae singer, was a crowd favorite during protests.
“Je te dis quitte le pouvoir!” (I tell you, leave power!) Their voices echoed through the streets, each syllable cutting through the haze of burning tires and thick smoke. The collective roar felt like a tidal wave crashing against the walls of the presidency.
When the chanting momentarily hushed, a single voice pierced the tension. It was high-pitched, urgent, slicing through the humid air: “The people are fed up! The soldiers are fed up! The students are fed up! The shopkeepers are fed up!”
The words came from Norbert Tiendrebeogo, an opposition leader from the Social Forces Front Party. His voice rode the charged energy of the crowd, delivering the sentiment that rippled across the streets like a shockwave.
