!مع السلامة -- Good bye, Al-Bustan!

            It's hard to believe that today is my last day of the semester at Al-Bustan. A number of snow days at school, the adjustment of being back at university in America, and a job I really enjoyed all made the time go by way too fast—it’s shocking to me that my blog posts reflecting on my time in Amman and the food were written 3 months ago! But it seems like now, as I leave for the summer, is a good time to reflect on the past four months.

My favorite piece of tatreez--I wish I knew how to do this!

            I came to Al-Bustan after seeing a posting on the Student Employment Office website while I was abroad. It was perfect: a work-study job that was also relevant to my interests, and with an organization that I had heard about before, from performing with the Philadelphia Arab Music Ensemble during my sophomore year. The first days of the semester found me getting my feet wet at Al-Bustan: learning my way around the office computer drive, which seems to hold more files than Google, and beginning to recognize the names of the many people that the organization works with when implementing its programs. I prepared song sheets and recorded attendance for PAME’s nearly 30-person choir and heard from Lisa, our Education Coordinator at that time, about the many in-school programs that we ran. I even saw samples of the artwork she helped with, like the tatreez, or Arabic needlepoint, that she made with a class at Northeast High School.

With the first concert of the fall on the horizon, I helped Morgan, our Marketing and Development Director, with advertising, and was even lucky enough to meet the Narcicyst while he was here. I helped Al-Bustan roll out this year’s annual summer camp, mailing out information about it and recording registrations as they came in. I also learned from Hazami, the Executive Director, about the many long grant processes we go through to get funding for these programs. By the time Fathy Salama came for his residence just two weeks ago, I was entirely overwhelmed by my classes, but did get to attend his engagement at the Penn Museum--although unfortunately this time, I didn’t get to meet the artist!

Mixing henna for a Al-Bustan project

Overall, it was a busy but productive semester for both me and for Al-Bustan.

The biggest thing I learned from my time at Al-Bustan was the incredible effort that goes into all the programs that this organization puts on. For being just a few employees--granted, with an awesome coalition of volunteers—the number of things that Al-Bustan is involved with is truly impressive. From educational programs in school to the seasonal concert series to an online music education tool (Try it here! It’s fun!) that combines the two, the staff does so much to promote the mission of Al-Bustan, and they provide a warm and welcoming environment to anyone interested in learning about or participating in Arab arts, culture, and language. I encourage all of our readers to attend our events, check out our Facebook and Twitter, and even volunteer if you have the time, so you can more fully understand the important work that Al-Bustan is doing within the Philadelphia community and become more engaged with such a dynamic organization. I’ve truly enjoyed my time here and hope to be writing to you all again in the fall!

An Evening with Fathy Salama

          On April 23rd, Egyptian composer/pianist Fathy Salama came to the Penn Museum to share his music and his thoughts as a lead-up to his concert this Sunday. The dimly-lit room and Ancient Egyptian artifacts were the perfect backdrop for a man and his music so enigmatic and worldly. His engagement in the Sphinx Gallery featured samples of his music, improvisation with several guest musicians, and his opinion on the current state of music in Egypt.

Fathy gets ready for the event!

          Fathy was educated in classical music but heavily influenced by Egyptian greats, like Umm Kulthum and Mohammad Abdel Wahab, as well as Western classics like the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. For a while he was a member of the commercial scene, composing for Arab musicians in the 80s and writing music for movies and soundtracks, but he left what he felt was a static environment in order to create his own ensemble, Sharkiat, and produce the type of music he wanted to. For a while, he was able to make a profit from this music only in Europe, but he has now grown to more popularity in Egypt and the Arab world. And that isn’t to slight his international fame: Fathy is the only Arab artist to have won a Grammy, for his 2004 collaboration album with Senegalese musician Youssou N’Dour.

          Fathy gave fascinating insight into the intricacies of Arabic music. He described an emphasis in Arabic music on melody and rhythm rather than harmony, and described the complex tetrachords that make up the Arabic maqamat, or musical modal system. Likening it to how a normal piano can play one half step (the black key) in between white keys, he explained an even further division of those notes in the Arabic system that pianos are not capable of playing, which therefore must be produced on string instruments. And indeed, his improvised piece with Hanna Khoury, Al-Bustan's musical director and violinist, and Hicham Chami, the guest qanun (what’s a qanun? See here!) player, could be recognized even by an untrained ear as an unusually complex piece of music. I can't say I could identify the tetrachords, but I certainly enjoyed what I was listening to!

The ensemble performs

          Also interesting was his perspective on Egyptian music today. Fathy spoke about the new pop music emerging from his homeland post-revolution; he criticized the simplification of Arabic traditions into machine-fed chords and rhythms that could be paired with catchy lyrics to produce something that everyone will listen to. He had more respect for pop music that built off of the Western style and added an Egyptian touch; at least these artists, he remarked, did something themselves! He wasn’t optimistic about the prospects for music, saying that the next generation of Egyptians lacks a true appreciation of classical Arabic music and its intricacies and suggesting that this will get much worse before it gets better. His views were bleak and his criticism harsh, but there are few more qualified than he to share them both.

          Fathy provided a little-heard voice from the Egyptian music scene as well as a great personal story, regardless of ethnicity or profession, of self-determination and commitment to one’s own vision. I would recommend him to any jazz lover who wants to expand his horizons beyond the traditional; his music promises not to disappoint!

"Be kind": A weekend with the Narcicyst

The Narcicyst

          When I first heard that Al-Bustan was bringing a hip-hop artist to Philadelphia, I was intrigued. I read about the influence that hip-hop music had in the Middle East during the Arab Spring and, even though I didn’t understand much of what was being said, I liked listening to these tracks and trying to feel the inspiration in them. Some quick research into the Naricyst taught me that I would, thankfully, be able to understand his mostly-English rapping. The sounds of his songs began to fill my study space as I grew more and more excited for his visit. I looked forward to his performance with the Takht Ensemble, which I knew would yield “remixed” versions of his songs, and when I learned he would be doing a presentation for Penn students too, I was excited for an intimate experience with a rapper who clearly has a lot to say. What I didn’t realize, though, was how inspirational his story would be at both events and how relevant it was for me and other Penn students.
          At the event at Penn on Thursday, Narcy read an excerpt from his book, Diatribes of a Dying Tribe. It detailed the identity struggles he felt trying to figure out how to be an Emirates-born Iraqi who had immigrated to Montreal. He recalled coming home to his house in Canada and seeing rude, racial writing scrawled on the garage door and remembered his struggle with answering the question, “Where are you from?” He addressed this at his concert too, saying, “It’s hard enough trying to figure out who I am as a rapper, let alone a Muslim, let alone a Canadian, let alone an Iraqi!”

One of the spoken word poets

          Now, I don’t exactly consider myself someone who struggles with identity issues. I was born 30 minutes away from where I currently live, to a family whose family had essentially always lived in America. But some members of the audience felt differently, and, when Narcy invited anyone who wanted to share their story on Thursday, spoke up about the identity issues they  experienced: some of them growing up, but some of them more recently, on Penn’s campus. A few said that they used hip-hop or even Narcy’s music to alleviate of these problems, utilizing it as an outlet where they could really be themselves. I found these stories really inspirational: college, for me, has been a huge journey in self-discovery during which I’ve struggled to figure out who I am and who I’m becoming. It’s not always easy to talk about this journey, and seeing students who had used the Narcicyst’s medium to do so was really inspirational.
          At the concert on Sunday, the inspiration continued through spoken-word poetry put on at the beginning of the concert by several students who had refined their performances during a private workshop with the Narcicyst. One was a Native American student who talked about his experience being off the reservation and in a city; another was an African-American who talked about the stereotypes that exist within his community. All of their stories were interesting and a reminder of the complex issues that every student seems to experience.

          It was a reminder for me that you never know the experiences of the people you walk past every day. Even when you try to guess who someone is—which is often done in earnest between Penn students—you don’t know their background or upbringing, and in fact you might be shocked to hear their real story. It reminds me of a favorite quote of mine: “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” The Narcicyst, in some ways, expressed this when he introduced himself at the concert, saying, “You can call me whatever you want, just please nothing negative.” Overall, his performances in Philadelphia were informative and inspiring for me, helping me connect better with the other students who surround me.

!صحتين -- To your health!

A full spread: tomatoes,
falafel, hummus, and khobz!

Believe it or not, when I left for the Middle East I didn’t like hummus. I could never quite stomach the texture. So when my roommates and I stumbled into our first falafel place in Amman, I didn’t have high hopes. We chose Mota’m Hashem, which calls itself the oldest restaurant in Amman and, despite its grungy demeanor, is apparently frequented by the Royal Family. A few blank looks at the waiter as he asked us, in Arabic, what we wanted was all it took to “order,” and soon, we had before us balls of falafel, steaming cups of chai wa na’na’ (tea with mint), a plate of onion and tomato slices, hummus, fool (mashed fava beans), and, to go with it all, freshly-baked khobz, or bread. I dipped a piece in hummus, added some tomato, and tried it—had I really not liked this stuff before?? Doused in olive oil and topped with ground up mint leaves, it became a staple of my diet, along with the falafel I liked to dip in it!

Arabic mashawii-- note 
the french fries covering it!

My food journey continued as I spent more time in Amman. I tried manakeesh for the first time: half za'atar and half jebnah, or cheese, spread out over thin bread. I tried a delicious Arabic salad called fattoush, with cut up cucumbers, peppers, tomatoes, and small lemon slices topped with thin croutons and a light dressing. Another favorite of mine was kubbah, a ball of minced and spiced meat encased by a fried overcoat. I was lucky enough to try waraq a’nab in the home of a new Arab friend: she piled seven or eight of these stuffed grape leaves on my plate, and although my tongue was overwhelmed at first bite, I soon acquired a taste for the sharply flavored filling of rice and meat. It was with the same friend, this time out at a restaurant, that I tried mashawii, or Arabic barbecue: wonderfully sauced beef kebabs, chicken, and lamb, with grilled onions and tomatoes to eat with it. And it was best paired with limon wa na’na’, a chilled, icy blend of lemon juice and pulverized mint leaves.

Limon wa na' na' 
on a hot day in Amman

There were also two classic Jordanian dishes that I had to sample: mensaf and kunafa. Mensaf, which comes from the Bedouins, the native people of Jordan, consists of lamb over rice, covered in a thick yogurt sauce. The lamb was amazing, practically falling off of the bone; the yogurt sauce, however, was a taste I liked less, and it kept me from going back for seconds. But no one could keep me away from kunafa, a dessert made of heated cheese underneath shredded dough and doused with sugary syrup. I lived a 5 minute walk from one of the most famous sweets stores in Amman, Habibeh’s, and would often make the trip after dinner to satisfy my sweet tooth. And every time after I finished eating came the familiar courtesy, from waiters and Arab friends alike: "!صحتين (saHtain) -- To your health!" 

Delicious, delicious kunafa!

So my question to Al-Bustan readers now is this: Where do I get this food in Philadelphia!?  Hazami at Al-Bustan was generous enough to give me some Jordanian za'atar for homemade manakeesh, and I've found falafel mix that you can fry at home to make balls. But what are the best restaurants?  I’ve tried Saad's and Manakeesh, right across from each other at 45^th and Walnut, and was satisfied with their falafel sandwiches and platters. But what about kubbah, fattoush, and mashawii?  Is there anywhere to get limon wa nanah?  Can anyone in Philadelphia make kunafa!? If you know of places that I should try out, please let me know in the comments!!

______________________________

Amy T. Cass

Al-Bustan Program Assistant

University of Pennsylvania, Class of 2015

International Relations Major

Bouzouki, A Memory of Home

When one sings, his or her voice becomes an instrument. The singer has to practice and fine-tune it, much like a drummer has to practice the intricate beating patterns that build to the complex tempo of a musical piece.  

Last semester, I enjoyed seeing singers and percussionists refine their skills. Their musical dexterity is astounding to observe, and most apparent in the instrumental class, which included an accordionist, a violinist, a cellist, a bouzouki player, and several percussionists.  These instrumentalists syndicate their tunes into an amazing mixture of melodies, rhythms, and compositions.  What surprised me at Monday night rehearsals was that even though each instrument had a completely different sound, they all mixed so naturally that I could only hear and appreciate the compositions as a whole. On one of those nights, after class, I had a chance to sit down with Fragkiskos Koufogiannis, a PhD candidate in Electrical Engineering at Penn School of Engineering, who told me about his involvement in the class.

F: Wait, so are you in the class?

Me:  No no, I’m actually an intern at Al-Bustan. I help them out with administrative functions, taking photos, and conducting interviews like this one. Where to begin then? Would you mind if I asked where you are from?

F: I am from Greece. The country is very multicultural but it definitely has a distinctive Turkish influence. Since the Turks have a heavy Arab influence, I grew accustomed to Arab music and arts. 

Me: Is that why you were interested in Al-Bustan?

F: Absolutely. To be perfectly honest, I am a little home sick. I’ve tried the Greek food around Philadelphia but…you know how you can’t get the same taste from restaurants as you can at home? That’s the same kind of problem I have had with feeling accustomed to Philly.  Music is the closest thing to home right now for me and that’s why I am enjoying the class so much.

Me:  I am glad to hear it. You guys play so passionately that sometimes I feel like it isn’t a class but that you guys are just practicing like a band. . .  So does Greece have a lot of Middle Eastern influences?

F: Kind of... I mean the culture gets communicated from Turkey, Greece and the Arab world. A lot of the musical instruments in Greece have a Middle Eastern influence. The instruments have transformed over the ages and I’ve adopted the bouzouki(a long-necked stringed instrument of Greek origin that resembles a mandolin) as my choice of instrument.  When I came to America two years ago , I was really homesick and the sound of the bouzouki brought me back home.  

M:  Yeah, I can relate to that. Going back to your earlier mention of food, it's a bit harder to emulate the authentic tastes of "back home."  I find restaurants tend to market to a bigger crowd, so they have a fusion of American and foreign foods.  In contrast, music has a universal quality, and as such it's easier to communicate across borders. 

M:  How do you think Al-Bustan presents itself to the public, how does it market itself?

F: I was really surprised. I found that they don’t promote the classes by calling them “oriental music classes” or something that is greatly commercialized. They promote it the way it is, without any false pretenses or any misgivings. The classes have Arab faculty who are very talented and knowledgable about their respective fields. The fact that they have am engaging personality is a perk that is very hard to find.

M:  That’s great to hear. Well this has been a pleasure. If you ever need any help with anything, please be sure to let me or others at Al-Bustan know. 

Fragkiskos's view of the music ensemble reflects many of the other participants' appreciation of the class. I invite you to check out our current classes by following this link... and join us!

---

Muhammad Naqvi

Program Assistant, Al-Bustan
Class of 2015 - College of Liberal and Professional Arts
University of Pennsylvania

عمّان، مدينة حلوة -- Amman, a beautiful city

Nearly seven months ago, when I boarded the plane to leave the United States for the first time in my life, I wasn’t overly nervous. I didn’t cry when I waved goodbye to my parents, or panic about arriving in a city I hardly knew anything about. Mostly on my mind was the new experience in front of me and my excitement to finally fulfill my study abroad dream: living in the Middle East.

A view of the city!

My plane was bound for Amman, where I was to spend a summer studying Arabic at a language institute before moving to Cairo for the fall semester. As fate would have it, my Cairo trip was cancelled and I stayed in Amman for the whole six months. To some, Amman is a slightly boring, much-less cosmopolitan version of the other Levantine capitals, Beirut and Damascus; but to me, every day was a new adventure. I learned to navigate the city, haggle with shop owners, and chat with taxi drivers. All of these things were more interesting because I got to speak Arabic while doing them—or at least attempt it. In the summer I was there for Ramadan, and it became illegal to eat or drink in public during the day. At night, however, I got my first glimpse at Arab nightlife at a café in downtown Amman, where we arrived at 9 pm and were still surrounded by groups of friends and families—with all of their young children—at 1 am, when we decided it was time to go sleep! I drank limon wa n3na—lemon with mint—smoked sheesha, and took in the Arab culture surrounding me.

Students gather outside of a UJ building

The fall brought a new program and with it about one hundred fellow American students who had come to Amman to study in the same program as me. I breezed through orientation—after all, I had lived there for two months already!—but was entirely unprepared for our first day of classes at the University of Jordan. Although our classes were not with other Jordanian students because of our Arabic level, we were on the same campus and saw an entirely different student experience than most of our universities in America. For starters, UJ has over 37,000 students, so there were literally people everywhere: sitting in groups on the benches, clustering outside of classrooms, and filling tables in the cafeteria. There seemed to be a lot of students standing around without much to do; but then again, when I finally discovered the UJ library, it was nearly impossible to find a seat among the students there, who were studying everything from physiology to business to Chinese. I quickly learned an interesting trick: something as simple as a piece of notebook paper could save your seat for the rest of the day. And this compared to Penn, where students will move your laptop and take that seat when you walk to the bathroom!

Afnan and I at a university concert

One of the best experiences I had at the university was befriending my language partner, a Jordanian-Palestinian girl just about my age who was studying Turkish and English. Afnan let me struggle through my amiyya with her—the colloquial Arabic I finally began learning in Jordan, which is so different from the fusHa taught in university—while telling me everything from her reasons for wearing a hijab to her secret desire to marry a pilot! She showed me places to eat around the university and introduced me to all of her friends, many of whom became my friends too. I was even lucky enough to go to two birthday parties with her, one in a restaurant and one at a friend’s house, where I tried my first home-cooked Jordanian meal. Through relationships like these, Amman really began to feel like home to me: it was comfortable, never dangerous but also never boring, full of wonderful people eager to share their culture with me.

Needless to say, when December came, I was sad to leave. I dreaded the thoughts of my last Arabic class, our program’s goodbye dinner, and returning to the airport to leave for good. But finally, I said tearful goodbyes to my new American classmates, my language partner and the other Jordanian people I had been lucky enough to befriend. I fully intend to keep the promise I made to them to come back to Amman: 6 months gave me just a taste of the fascinating culture and welcoming people that characterize this beautiful city.

_________________________________________________

Amy T. Cass

Al-Bustan Program Assistant

University of Pennsylvania, Class of 2015

International Relations Major

Remembering Palestine

There is something undeniably enchanting about Arab culture. Its language: from the melodious sounds to the intricate calligraphy. The music: from Umm Kulthoum’s Alf Laila to the folk songs of Palestine. The poetry: from Nizar Qabbani’s Balqis to Khalil Gibran’s The Prophet. The endless coffee and tea sipped while exchanging multitudes of stories. All in cities echoing with the sounds of history, from Cairo to Beirut and Jaffa to Damascus.

However, we tend to get so worked up with all the politics going on in the region that there isn’t much energy left for bringing out the arts. It's a loss for those who don’t get the exposure to anything other than the politics. That’s where Al-Bustan comes in, quite heroically I would add.

Author Shawqi Kassis with Al-Bustan Takht Ensemble
Dec 15, 2013

Al-Bustan's Arab Music Concert Series, which has been running since Fall 2011, has brought to us some beautiful music and literature right here in Philadelphia. The most recent event, Remembering Palestine, was a perfect way to wrap up the fall series as we begin the holidays. Familiar folk songs were performed during the first half by a community ensemble of singers and musicians, followed by a reading of excerpts from Haifa is Not Cordoba by Shawqi Kassis. I was happy to discover that Dr. Kassis is an old friend of my family and that I had met him as child.

The night, along with the other concerts that I've attended, had a way of bringing me back to my roots. The words and melodies transported me to a whole other dimension where it's simply me and my roots reconnecting. It's that enchantment of the culture that never ceases to move me in endless ways.

- Nelly Keisi
Temple University

Class of 2017