{"id":10038,"date":"2022-09-15T11:27:43","date_gmt":"2022-09-15T09:27:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/themarkaz.org\/oldmarkaz\/?p=10038"},"modified":"2022-12-25T11:38:42","modified_gmt":"2022-12-25T09:38:42","slug":"exile-music-hope-nostalgia-among-berlins-arab-immigrants","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/themarkaz.org\/oldmarkaz\/exile-music-hope-nostalgia-among-berlins-arab-immigrants\/","title":{"rendered":"Exile, Music, Hope & Nostalgia Among Berlin\u2019s Arab Immigrants"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Festsaal venue in Kreuzberg hosts the annual Al.Berlin Al.Music festival<\/a>.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

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Exile becomes a double loss: loss of origin and reality, tormented by the never-ending desire for return, an unrealizable return\u2026<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

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Diana Abbani<\/h4>\n

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In her essay \u201cVoyage, War and Exile,\u201d the Lebanese American poet and visual artist, Etel Adnan, described her experience before leaving Beirut at the outbreak of the 1975 civil war as an exile. She was not the one leaving Beirut, she asserted, it was Beirut leaving her: \u201cWhat is exile, <\/em>she wrote,<\/em> if not the violent and involuntary loss of all the living symbols of one\u2019s identity<\/em>?\u201d[1]<\/a><\/p>\n

Until today, many in the Arabic-speaking region find themselves, like Etel Adnan, exiled in their homeland. This exile is \u201ctotal and absolute,<\/em>\u201d as she marked. Being exiled in your own homeland is \u201cthe most desperate of all forms of exile.<\/em> It is living in hell<\/em>,\u201d or as the Lebanese rapper Bu Nasser Touffar sings in his song Hexaphobia<\/a>, \u201cAlf ghorba, w la amout bi blade marra [A thousands times in exile, and not one minute dying in my country].<\/em>\u201d But unlike Etel Adnan, many feel today that they are not witnessing the meaning of \u201cParadise Lost.<\/em>\u201d Their home was no longer considered a paradise, and this for a very long time.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n

Confronted by wars, repression and authoritarian regimes, many young coming from the Arab world have had to leave their homeland in the last ten years, and seek refuge in Europe. When German Chancellor Angela Merkel offered temporary residency to asylum seekers in 2015, Berlin became a major destination. This city has a long history in attracting foreign intellectuals and artists looking for an affordable and culturally open place. Profiting from the presence of earlier Arab communities that immigrated since the eighties, it is turning into an Arab exile capital<\/a> and an Arab cultural hub<\/a>, particularly due to the institutional and communal supports given to intellectuals and artists.<\/p>\n

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Palestinian vocal artist in Berlin, Rasha Nahas.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

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A Taste of Home<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em>Born and raised in the Arab-speaking world and amidst its difficulties, Berlin\u2019s new comers brought the problems, the music, the tastes<\/a> and the discourses circulating across the Middle East and North Africa. They found themselves in a new alienation. Their growing presence in Berlin is slowly shaping a musical scene that reflects their needs and aspirations. This emergent musical and cultural scene is still on the margins of Berlin\u2019s mainstream German life. It isn\u2019t always managing to attract members of Berlin\u2019s old Arab community. Like the emergent Arab intellectual community in the city, it still needs to shape its identity to become an \u201cArab exiled body\u201d as the Egyptian sociologist Amro Ali described it<\/a>.[2] But it is turning into an important place for new comers to express their feelings of pain and exile, and a means to maintain a common sense of identity and belonging.<\/p>\n

Traditional and modern Arab musicians, classical artists and those into hip-hop, metal, electronics and jazz are animating jam sessions, musical performances and dance parties in the city. Some of the singers who visited the city are among the most popular artists on the Arab independent scene like Bu Kolthoum<\/a>, Cairokee<\/a>, Lekhfa<\/a>, Massar Egbari<\/a>, Mashrou3 Leila<\/a>, El Rass<\/a>, 47 Soul<\/a>\u2026 The affordable city also attracted various established artists looking for an easier access to the European musical scene from Berlin, like the Palestinian singer Rasha Nahhas<\/a>, the Lebanese jazz player Tarek Yamani<\/a>, or the Lebanese video, sound and visual artist Raed Yassin<\/a>. Others artists had to leave their country and eventually found themselves in Berlin, like the Syrian rappers Enana<\/a>, Abu Hajar and his band Mazzaj Rap<\/a> or the Syrian trumpet player Milad Khawam<\/a>, among others. These young artists are trying to create their own space here. Although the city offers them a place to meet and connect with various artists from different places, their work is still more individual than collective. They are looking for their voice in the city and in relation to the places they left. Their musical productions are in the midst of finding its language, identity and definition. But they all have to navigate Germany\u2019s political and social limits, such as the Eurocentric view on the region, racism, Islamophobia and Germany\u2019s stance<\/a> on Israel-Palestine. (See Abir Kopty\u2019s Unapologetic Palestinians, Reactionary Germans.)<\/p>\n

At the same time, many musical spaces and events are becoming meeting points for the newcomers and marginalized groups, like the electronic Hafla\/Party \u201cArabs do it better<\/a>,\u201d the Arab Songs Jam<\/a>, the Arabic Music Institute<\/a> Berlin, the Berlin-based collective Queer Arab Barty<\/a>, Oyoun<\/a> cultural center, or Al.Berlin<\/a> bar and caf\u00e9 and its music festivals<\/a>. Deeply connected to the Arab world in its artists, subjects and music, this musical scene is creating a feeling of home, like Wael Alkak<\/a>\u2019s concert in Berlin.<\/p>\n

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