Mathias Rösel
Sun, 04 May 2008 01:00:07 -0700
Yes, and if you look it up on their homepage (NYT) you can even listen to a cell-phone-shot little movie with lovely war helicopter sound in the background. Mathias "Doc Rossi" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> schrieb: > NYT > A Fabled Iraqi Instrument Thrives in Exile > By ERICA GOODE > Published: May 1, 2008 > > BAGHDAD Dhia Jabbar hides his oud in a sack when he walks down the > street in his Baghdad neighborhood. > > He used to teach students in the back room of a photo shop, where the > sound could not be heard. But last week, militia gunmen invaded the > store, destroying one of his instruments and ordering him to stop > teaching. He had dreamed of a performing career, but now he has lost > hope. > > Iraq is dead, he says. > > Seven thousand miles away, Rahim Alhaj, who fled Iraq in 1991, carries > his oud without a second thought through the streets of Albuquerque, > where he now lives. In New York, Washington and other cities, he plays > for audiences of hundreds. An album he recorded was recently nominated > for a Grammy Award. > > The two musicians are bound by their passion for the oud, a pear- > shaped instrument whose roots run deep in Iraqs history. Some say > that in its music lies the countrys soul. > > Both men trained at the same prestigious conservatory in Baghdad. Both > have a deep love for traditional Iraqi melodies. > > But Mr. Jabbar, 29, and Mr. Alhaj, 40, are also tied together by > having watched one from close up, one from far away their > countrys descent into sectarian violence. > > Mr. Alhaj worries constantly about his mother and brother, who still > live in Baghdads dangerous Sadr City neighborhood, in a house without > electricity or running water. When there is fighting between Mahdi > Army militia members and American and Iraqi forces there, as has been > the case virtually every day in recent weeks, he calls his family > frantically. > > Its hard because Im so far away from them and so far from their > struggle, and I feel helpless, he said. > > The violence he reads about stirs troubled dreams: images of being > tortured, as he was in the 1980s under Saddam Husseins government, or > of seeing people being executed. > > In 2004, he returned to Baghdad to give a concert at his familys > house. The friends he grew up with, he said, wore beards and felt > uncomfortable listening to him play; secular music was considered > haram, forbidden. An oud maker he knew was forced to build his > instruments secretly in a tiny workshop on his roof. > > One morning, Mr. Alhaj awoke in his familys home to hear his niece > singing a famous Iraqi love song. But the lyrics had been changed; the > words no longer spoke of romantic love, but only of God, of heaven and > damnation. > > What happened? Mr. Alhaj asked. What happened? > > Mr. Jabbar watched the transformation of Baghdad in real time. He saw > religious fervor engulf the street outside his familys house in the > Shaab neighborhood, where he used to sit outside and play for passers- > by. Salons and casual concerts, once common, became rare and > clandestine. The teaching and performing jobs that used to await > talented oud players when they finished training disappeared. > > I have lost 10 years of my life, he said, the years that I worked > to be able to play for people. > > Iraq was once famous for its oud players. The instrument was a common > sight in Iraqi households, much like the guitar in the United States. > According to one legend cited in Grove Music Online, a standard > reference, the oud was invented by Lamak, a descendant of the biblical > Cain. When his son died, Lamak is said to have hung his remains in a > tree and seen in the skeleton the bowled body and elegant neck. > > A ninth-century jurist in Baghdad extolled the ouds healing powers, > as did Muhammad Shihab al-Din, a 19th-century writer. It places the > temperament in equilibrium, he wrote. It calms and revives hearts. > > Even Saddam Hussein was not immune to the instruments charms. He is > reported to have received an oud, made from rare woods and inlaid with > ivory, from a famous maker, Mohammed Fadhel. Mr. Hussein ordered a > renowned oud player to teach him how to play, but arriving in the > dictators presence, the man was so terrified he could not speak. > Another oudist summoned to replace him gave Mr. Hussein two lessons, > the story goes. > > As a child, Mr. Jabbar fell asleep to music on his fathers tape > recorder. Later, he sang national songs in a choir in secondary > school. At 18, late for a professional musician, he took up the oud, > studying the mysteries of the Iraqi maqam, the complex system of tonal > sequences and improvisation passed from master to student. I was born > to learn it, he said. > > When American tanks rolled into Baghdad in 2003, Mr. Jabbar was filled > with excitement. > > I used to sit with my friends and talk about our dreams and what > would become of Baghdad after the invasion, he said. I was expecting > that Baghdad would be just like Hollywood. We were moving around > freely. Sometimes we would go home at 2 a.m. > > But the new freedom did not last. He heard whispered stories of > musicians who had been threatened by religious extremists. One of his > professors was attacked while driving from Syria to Baghdad. The > gunmen smashed the mans oud, and said they would kill him if he > continued to play. A month later, the professor fled Iraq. > > I started to be more careful and not to talk about my studies, Mr. > Jabbar said. I used to say that I was studying painting or history or > to become an English teacher. > > In some neighborhoods, he could carry his oud without much fear. In > others, he said, it was suicide to carry it with me. > > He plays where he can, in occasional festivals, in secret gatherings > with friends. Once in a while, he stops by the shop of an oud maker, > Ahmad al-Abdalli, on a winding street of central Baghdads market > district. > > Before this, many players would come here and gather and play and > sing, and when they go home, they are relieved and happy, Mr. Abdalli > said. But now, they do not come, or if they come, they are only one > or two at a time and they play for only a few minutes, so as not to > attract the attention of the fanatics. > > Mr. Jabbar owns a valuable oud, built, like Mr. Husseins, by Mohammed > Fadhel, an instrument so precious even his wife may not touch it. But > he thinks about selling the instrument. > > Mr. Alhaj, too, owned a Mohammed Fadhel, given to him decades ago by > his teacher in Baghdad. He used to sleep with it next to him. He even > talked to it, worrying his parents. > > But in 1991, when he left Iraq, slipping into Jordan, a border guard > confiscated the oud. As he saw it disappear, Mr. Alhaj recalled, he > started shaking and became ill. This is the saddest moment of my > entire life, he said. > > He arrived in the United States in 2000, after years in Syria, and a > refugee worker found him a job at McDonalds. What kind of institute > is that? Mr. Alhaj said he asked. Do they teach Arabic classical > music there? > > Eventually, he began to perform again. He does what he can to keep > Iraqi oud music alive, giving concerts to benefit Iraqi children and > talking to audiences about the oud and its history. > > He knows he is lucky to be able to play freely, to be able to speak > out without fear. I have a chance to raise my voice here, he said. > > He rejoiced when the Hussein regime fell, he said, but he opposed the > American invasion. Sometimes the thought crosses his mind that there > is a soldier there, and I do not know if he is killing my brother. > > Mr. Jabbar, for his part, jokes that he harbors a secret fantasy. > > I am going to make a coup détat and make everyone in all the > neighborhoods play the oud, he said. It will be a revolution. > > Qais Mizher, Anwar J. Ali and Ali Hameed contributed reporting. To get on or off this list see list information at http://www.cs.dartmouth.edu/~wbc/lute-admin/index.html