For over a year now I have been experiencing the Egyptian revolution from halfway across the world.
Twitter, Facebook, mobile apps, news websites- I do it all and I do it daily. Being so far away makes me feel like I need to be connected even more.
But the news can get overwhelming especially when it’s tragic- as it frequently is.
It makes me feel even more isolated as there is nothing I can do and I don’t have a network of Egyptian friends in Vancouver who can understand what I am going through.
I needed another way to feel like I am connected to this important time in the nation’s history.
The solution, I’ve found, is revolutionary art.
Egypt has historically been a land where art and culture have flourished. It is undoubtedly one of the- if not the most- important centers of art, culture and media in the region. Some of the most influential and prominent artists in the region hail from this ancient country. The songs of legendary singer Um Kalthoum, the writing of Nobel Prize for Literature winner Naguib Mahfouz and the movies of Yousif Chahine are all carved into the psyche of Egypt, the Arab world and even some in the international sphere.
It is no surprise that Egyptians turned to art to express their feelings about the recent events in the country.
Over the past few years, with censorship tightened, a few underground projects were circulated, especially on the Internet, that addressed the political oppression and injustice in Egypt. They aimed to express the frustration of the everyday Egyptian. Some mainstream projects touched upon the topic but never delved into it too deeply, and when they tried to, there were still issues they would not near.
But it wasn’t until the revolution that Egypt witnessed an explosion of art which was no longer restrained and careful, but free, critical and raw.
It was exactly the kind of cathartic experience I needed.
When the revolution started last year, my ringtone was a song called Erhal (or Leave in English) by an artist I couldn’t identify at the time. I got the song from a YouTube video that featured him singing it in Tahrir Square- the center of protests.
A simple strum on a guitar and a few words the resonated with millions of Egyptians (translated from Arabic):
“All of us are hand in hand, and we have one demand: leave, leave, leave...
Down, down with Hosni Mubarak…. The people want the toppling of the regime…. He will leave, we will not leave. Down, down with Hosni Mubarak.”
Every time I heard the song I felt it transported me to Tahrir Square in a way news reports failed to do. I could feel the spirit and the resilience of the protestors and for a few minutes it was like I was there. That unspecified voice sang the words I ached to express.
I now know that the artist’s name is Ramy Essam. He is considered one of the heroes of the revolution and his story (including post-revolution abuse by military personnel) has been reported by various international media.
He also has an album out, one that is almost constantly playing on my iPhone. With its mix of powerful lyrics, poignant reflections, humorous references and critical analysis, the album captures what I believe is the spirit of the revolution. The first time I heard it I was at once surprised and impressed at its brutal honesty, especially against the ruling Military. Protests in Egypt now focus on the Supreme Council of Armed Forces (SCAF) and demand their resignation. This is reflected in Essam’s song Erhal 2, which with an identical tune to the first one changes the lyrics to reflect the new situation (translated):
“All of us are hand in hand, and we have one demand: leave, leave, leave.
Down, down with Military rule. The people want the toppling of the regime. The Council will leave, we will not leave…. Down, down with Hosni Mubarak. All of us are hand in hand, and we have one demand: civilian (rule), civilian, civilian.”
The burst of revolutionary songs is a refreshing addition to a long record of songs about Egypt. Many Egyptians, much like the rest of Middle Easterners, are fiercely patriotic and songs about Egyptian pride and love for the country are abundant. Be it with classics such as Afaf Rady’s Masr Heya Omi (Egypt is My Mother), modern songs such as Sheriene Abdel Wahab’s Mashrebtesh Min Neelha (Didn’t You Drink From Its Nile) or even songs sung by non-Egyptians such as Lebanese megastar Nancy Ajram’s Ana Masry (I am Egyptian). As much as I love those songs which helped me stay connected with Egypt as I grew up in another country, it is about time that songs expressing the Egyptians’ struggle against political oppression become mainstream. If there is one thing that defines the feeling of Egyptians about their country it is a mixture of love and a frustration-driven cry for change. The new songs do reflect that and they resonate with a generation of younger Egyptians who grew up under Mubarak’s rule and didn’t experience the freer, more cultured Egypt our parents reminisce about.
I’ve focused on songs in this article, but there are so many different forms of revolutionary art that have spread like wildfire around the country. One interesting phenomenon is the surge in street graffiti art- which was banned under Mubarak’s regime.
In terms of songs, they resonate with me, because as I am sitting on the bus in Vancouver, hoping the gray clouds wont’ pour their wrath onto us one more day- I can put in my headphones, close my eyes and feel the spirit of a revolution that is far from complete.