By now the soft choral opening has turned into a light, busy groove: guitars picking around each other, percussion keeping it clean, Oumou already inside the motion.

That “seya” refrain is doing the song’s main work early, returning like a greeting while the guitars keep the surface bright.

Now the lyric gets concrete: Bama Niare’s big market enters the song, and the seya answers keep it feeling celebratory rather than like a list.

The fabric details come through in the same steady pocket—fushia, then the named friends—while the accompaniment barely changes its expression.

This refrain opens out a little wider, still joyful, but with more room in Oumou Sangaré’s line before the responses fold back in.

Her voice stretches on that long “haaaa wassolon,” naming Wassoulou while the band keeps the groove light underneath her.

That laugh isn’t treated like a break in the take; it gets folded right back into the seya calls.

Madina Coura becomes the next market name in the cycle, and the arrangement stays patient enough for each place and object to land.

Those bayabasa, bayurusa, bayoroba repetitions start to feel percussive themselves, little vocal patterns answering the guitars.

Near the end the hold eases rather than making a grand final gesture; voices and band simply let the pattern loosen toward silence.