Wele oli Wele, Papa oli Papa

From the slopes of Elgon’s sacred rise,
To where the rivers Sio, Khalaba, and Nzoia glide,
We wake with joy, our hearts ablaze,
And lift our voices in thankful praise.

The winds from Wabukhe whisper grace,
Through Malemo’s mud, You made a place.
You bore our burdens, walked our road,
A silent strength that shared our load.

Wele oli Wele, Papa oli Papa,
You hear our cry, both near and far.
With litungu’s hum and drumbeat’s flight,
Our spirits dance into the night.
Though life has bruised, we still arise,
We breathe, we eat, we touch the skies.
Oh Wele Khakaba, ever the same,
We lift our hearts in Your great name.

We’ve stumbled, Papa, lost our way,
Yet still we kneel, still we pray.
The rains have come, the harvest near,
Your hand has brushed away our fear.

We hear the cows in Naburereya’s fields,
We see the joy that freedom yields.
With every beat of heart and drum,
We know how far we’ve truly come.

Wele oli Wele, Papa oli Papa,
You hear our cry, both near and far.
With litungu’s hum and drumbeat’s flight,
Our spirits dance into the night.
Though life has bruised, we still arise,
We breathe, we eat, we touch the skies.
Oh Wele Khakaba, ever the same,
We lift our hearts in Your great name.

So let the night be filled with song,
Like tales from Kukhu Naliaka, strong.
With every breath, our thanks we raise,
To You, the Author of our days.