What's So Wrong with Mohammad Abd al-Wahaab?

Is there such a thing as pure Arab music? Has Arab music been westernized in a way that surpasses the natural intercultural exchange that constantly occurs, and if so, is this a serious problem for the future of Arab culture? These questions continued to arise in discussions this past week at Al-Bustan's Arab and Arts and Culture course, probably due to the fact that we spend a large part of the day thinking about Arabic music and how it can be incorporated into lesson plans. Among the group there is disagreement over whether “modernizers” like Egyptian composer Mohammad Abd al-Wahaab set Arab music on a path which has lead to the erosion of Arab culture or not. I must concede that I lean towards “not,” believing that the issue is much more complex than the notion that an Arab musical genre has been progressively destroyed by Western culture. That said, I agree with much of the discontent regarding the loss of knowledge of Arabic musical history.

Musician Kinan Abou-afach on cello leads instrumental
ensemble practice with music educators, 

For me, the disagreement hinges on the notion that there is a static thing that is Arabic music. There is an Arabic music style, but it is so multivalent that I have a hard time thinking that fusing it and other styles is automatically problematic. Arab music has now-accepted influences ranging from all parts of Africa, Central Asia, the Indian Subcontinent, and even Europe (the violin, for instance). There was likely a time when this intercultural exchange was considered a serious problem. But then, as time passed and the musical genres became better integrated, these fusions became natural and accepted. That is not to say that all fusion music is good, James Brown does not mix well with the singer Hakeem, for instance. I am merely trying to say that fusion is not fundamentally problematic.

At the same time, colonialism has affected hybrid music such that western music did not naturally mix with Arab music because there was not an even socio-political-cultural-playing-field. The cultural power of colonialism here should not be underestimated. Partially as a consequence of the Western cultural hegemony, some traditional Arab musical forms were ignored and not preserved, thereby reducing the richness of Arabic music today. Abd al-Wahaab is perhaps at fault here, inadvertently setting in motion the privileging of Western musical styles over Arabic ones. This is just a fraction of the arguments against the westernization of Arab music; I included it specifically because it was the most common argument that came up in our group.

I really am unable to pick a side, because there are so many factors to take into account here, and each argument is itself very layered. The only conclusion I can come to with any certainty is that the questions which opened this post are much more complicated than they appear initially. I know this is a cop-out at some level, but it also something that we will likely all agree upon.

- Max Dugan

Kenyon College, '14
Summer Intern at Al-Bustan

Fairuz or Amr Diab?: An Approach to Choosing Arabic Educational Material

After sitting in on the Arabic educators group for the first three days of Al-Bustan's Arab Arts and Culture Course, I saw the group continue to return to the question: “how do we choose Arabic songs or poems for our classes?” While there was definitely some disagreement, they seemed to arrive at the conclusion that we need to have a clear goal when choosing a song, and that the song should be integrated across other class syllabi. Yes, it is obvious that teacher needs to have an intention when they create a lesson plan. But if you, like me, have ever taken an Arabic class you have probably heard at least few songs whose names, lyrics, and themes you don't remember. On one hand, that may be the fault of the song itself by not properly keeping our attention, but on the other, if the teacher and the students know what they were supposed to focus on, then everyone would probably maintain their attention better.

Music Director Hanna Khoury teaches Arabic/Music educators
 "Nassam Alayna-l Hawa," composed by Rahbani Brothers

As for these teacher's intention, there are nearly endless possibilities, many of which are contradictory. Take this group for instance, some teachers want to emphasize Modern Stand Arabic and traditional Arab music, and others focus on dialects and the current mainstream music. For example, if someone falls into the former group, they should pick a song that contains fusha and has non-electronic instruments. All the intention directive asks is that teachers are conscious and deliberate when they pick a song for their curriculum.

Perhaps more important than all of this is that, if possible, the Arabic teacher coordinates with their fellow teachers to include the song in classes that aren't their own. Personally, I wish my school had done something like this when I attended. To illustrate what I am talking about, when there is a unit on the Arab world in school, the music class, history class, and English literature class would all work together to educate holistically. History class could speak to the historical context, music might do a crash course on Arabic rhythm, literature could analyze the poetry for its rhyme and meter, while Arabic class would explain the meaning of the words and their correct pronunciation. This sort of structure allows teachers to broaden students' understanding of a single piece of Arab culture.

I am only a student of Arabic, and as such have not come into contact with the obstacles of teaching something like a Fairuz song. That said, I can speak to the fact that directed readings of poetry and a deeper understanding of a text have always left me with a longer lasting impression of that specific part Arabic culture. Hopefully all you teachers out there might able to incorporate something like this into your classes, be them Arabic, music, history, or literature.

- Max Dugan

Kenyon College, '14

Summer Intern at Al-Bustan

Collaborative Learning at Al-Bustan's Arab Arts & Culture course

This has been a busy week for a group of educators at the Albert M. Greenfield Intercultural Center at UPenn. From 9:00am until well past dusk, Arabic language and music teachers have joined together to participate in Al-Bustan’s Arab Arts & Culture course. Although I am neither a teacher nor a musician, I, too, have spent the week learning Fairouz lyrics and Arab rhythm in my capacity as researcher/volunteer with Al-Bustan. And what an amazing week it has been!

Al-Bustan's course is designed to facilitate collaboration and cross-disciplinary approaches to education, both topically and methodologically. Guided by the shared theme of Arab music, the course teaches participants several ways to incorporate Arab music and cultural content into their curricula--and their classrooms. It is also a crash course in Arab music history, with a focus on the Egyptian and Lebanese cultural contexts and the careers of iconic singers Um Kulthum and Fairuz. And who better to teach than Hanna Khoury, Kinan Abou-afach, Hafez Kotain, and Hicham Chami, members of Al-Bustan’s Resident Takht Ensemble? 

Hanna Khoury leads the music teachers and members of the takht ensemble. 

In the mornings, Abou-afach, a professional musician and educator, guides the Arabic language educators in the rhythms of Arabic poetry, which he learned from his father in Syria, himself a poet. Specifically, the teachers are learning to recognizing patterns and meters (al-bahar/buhur) in poetry so that they will be able to compose short songs using poetry in their classes. In the afternoons, Chami, a graduate student of ethnomusicology and Islamic Studies, leads discussions on how to integrate music into Arabic curricula. Discussions have ranged from the challenge of selecting appropriate, or culturally representative, music for different audiences to the usefulness of music as an instrument of language learning. As a culminating exercise, the educators split into groups to design a lesson plan, which they will present on Friday. Finally, the Arabic language teachers work with Khoury on a number of Arabic songs, which they will perform as a choir at the end of the week with the accompaniment of the music teachers and the takht ensemble. Khoury also teaches music educators the theory of Arab music, from the tetrachords and scales to its unique rhythms and maqamat. The teachers, many of whom are multi-instrumentalists, are also learning several pieces of music, which they hope to use with their students. And, finally, Ali Kotain instructs both music and Arabic language teachers in the basics of Arab percussion.

Kinan Abou-afach shows the Arabic teachers the rhythms of Arabic poetry.

Hicham Chami listens as the Arabic teachers design a lesson plan. 

In spite of their separate coursework, there is still much space for collaboration and conversation between the two groups, who start and finish each day together. In the mornings, the educators gather for lectures on Arab culture from scholars such as Marwan Kraidy, Alon Tam, and the instructors Hanna Khoury and Hicham Chami. In the afternoons, the choir and instrumentalists rehearse together before dinner, which provides another opportunity to unwind, network and learn. Students have also connected over Hazami's homemade breakfasts, lunches on the patio, and catered dinners, not to mention during the evening's extracurricular activities, which have included a dabke lesson, a film, and more. 

What strikes me as particularly unique and special about this course is just such opportunities: For educators -- with different approaches, focuses, even disciplines – to join together and learn practical skills relevant to their classrooms but also to gain critical skills and knowledges from each other. One music teacher in a local school told me that she is here not only to learn about Arabic music but also to help better understand her students, many of whom are Arab immigrants. An Arabic teacher told me that she is here to learn music, which she did not have an opportunity to explore as a youth. For these two women, and hopefully many others, this week provides a unique chance to learn from others with differing, but complementary, skills and objectives. Personally, I am thrilled to have made so many new connections to people from whom to learn and grow. What's more exciting than spending a week with people with shared interests and differing experiences? I certainly can't think of much.

The course culminates in a performance this Friday, June 27th at 7pm at the Iron Gate Theatre on UPenn's campus. We hope you will join us to celebrate the accomplishments of these educators, the hard work and dedication of our great faculty, and the end of what has been an extremely successful and intense week!

- Jane Lief Abell
PhD student in Anthropology, UPenn 

!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