PaPi Clever & Dorcas - Nakumbuka Sayuni Lyrics
Lyrics
1
Ninakumbuka Sayuni, nchi ya heri mbinguni, - I remember Zion, the blessed land in heaven
bahari kama kioo na’furahia rohoni. - the sea is like glass and I rejoice in my soul
Nyuma kimeta cha nuru Naona mji wa mbingu, - Behind the anthrax of light I see the city of heaven
nyimbo za nyumba ya Baba nasikiliza daima. - the songs of the Father's house I always listen to
Mapambazuko mbinguni yataondoa utaji, - The dawn in heaven will remove the veil
vyote tulivyoamini tutaviona milele. - all that we believed we will see forever.
2
Mauti haina nguvu, Yesu a’vunja uchungu, - Death has no power, Jesus broke the pain
naye aliwakomboa wote; wafalme, watumwa. - and he redeemed them all; kings, slaves
Ninamtwika Mwokozi dhambi, huzuni na shida; - I put sins, sorrows and problems on the Savior
mbavuni mwake nafasi kama bandari salama. - in his side a place like a safe harbor
3Kuna ‘jaribu njiani, mengi yakunizuia, - There are trials on the way, many hinder me
na mara nyingi miiba, inaumiza miguu. - and often thorns hurt my feet
Nikikumbuka Sayuni moyo huwaka kabisa, - When I remember Zion, my heart burns
mbingu ninaitazama na ku’himiza safari. - I look at the sky and encourage the journey
Video
NINAKUMBUKA SAYUNI - PAPI CLEVER & DORCAS Ft MERCI PIANIST : MORNING WORSHIP 157
Meaning & Inspiration
My clothes still carry the stench of the pig pen. I don’t know how else to put it. When I listen to PaPi Clever and Dorcas singing Ninakumbuka Sayuni, it hits me right where the mud is still drying on my skin.
They sing, "mbavuni mwake nafasi kama bandari salama"—a place in His side like a safe harbor.
I’ve spent years running, thinking my sins were a currency I had to pay back. I thought if I stayed in the dirt long enough, maybe I’d eventually earn the right to look up. But this song hits different. It isn’t about being clean before you walk through the door. It’s about the fact that His side is an open wound, and that wound is the only dock where a wreck like me can actually moor my boat. You don’t go to a harbor when you’re pristine; you go when your hull is splintered and your sails are shredded. You go because you’re sinking. That’s the scandal of it, isn't it? That He took the spear so I could have a place to hide.
I think about the line: "mara nyingi miiba, inaumiza miguu."
My feet are scarred. I’ve walked through some dark brush to get away from the Father’s house, and even now, trying to turn back, the thorns don’t just vanish. They bite. But there’s something about the way they sing about the "songs of the Father’s house" that makes the blood on my heels feel trivial. It’s like the promise of that city, that place where death finally loses its grip, makes the pain of the walk secondary.
It reminds me of the kid in Luke 15. He didn't have a plan. He had a speech about being a servant, but the Father didn't even let him finish it. The Father just started the party. That’s what "the dawn in heaven will remove the veil" means to me. Right now, I’m still squinting. I see the mess I made. I see the years I burned. I see the ghosts of who I was. But they’re singing about a time when the veil drops—when everything I believed, everything I clung to in the dark while I was still trying to find my way home, will be visible.
I don’t have it all figured out. Some days I still feel like I’m looking at Zion through a dirty window. But when I hear them sing about the King and the slave being redeemed alike, I realize I don't have to be a hero to be found. I just have to be in the harbor. I’m still smelling like smoke, but at least I’m not running anymore.