Music Is a Universal Language That Crosses All Borders
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Music is a universal language that crosses all borders Auteur: pixabay.com Enrico Macias song « J’ai quitté mon pays » then and now Lire la version français de l’article ici Music is a universal language that crosses all borders; a tool for arousing emotions and feelings, as well as for bringing hope and healing. It is said that the Arab philosopher and musician Al-Farabi, (872–950), was able to make people laugh and then make them cry by his wonderful performance on the Oud. I was born and grown up in the rural north east of Syria, a neglected, impoverished region, considered as the center of numerous ethnic groups. Tough, resilient people, mostly descendants of refugees fled from atrocities in Turkey. Strongly attached to their ethnic music and culture; perhaps because of the relief it brought to them from long years of deprivation and traumatism. As an adolescent, my mind was receptive to this rich, multi-ethnic music. At those days, the mid-seventies, we didn’t have a TV set. My parents had an old cassette-recorder, where I used to spend long hours listening to the charming songs of the diva of Arab music, Oum Kalthoum, and the adored youth singer Abdoul Halim Hafez, as well as to Adis (1), M.Shekho (2) and many others. Tom Jones, Charles Aznavour, Julio Iglesias, Enrico Macias…! However, those years brought us also western music and songs recorded on audio cassettes, mostly from Beirut-Lebanon, the cultural hub of the Arab world at that time. Like many of my peers, I was fascinated by Tom Jones, Aznavour, Julio Iglesias, Enrico Macias…! I had a guitar those days, and was trying to learn to play simple tunes. So naturally, I developed a liking for Enrico, particularly his song « J’ai quitté mon pays ». J’ai quitté mon pays J’ai quitté ma maison Ma vie, ma triste vie Se traîne sans raison I loved this song! I don’t know why! Certainly, not because of its nostalgic lyrics, or the moving historical background: Enrico Mascias left his native country Algeria and went into exile in 1961. My knowledge of French was very little then. But probably, because of its melancholic oriental melody and the heartfelt performance on the guitar! It was tender and relaxing, evoking mixed emotions of joy and sorrow! In fact, my interpretation of the song was purely romantic and emotional! The magic city of Aleppo! At those carefree days, during my college years in Aleppo, Syria, my mind was full of rosy things and wild expectations. Part of it was connected to my fascination with this magical city, where history and modernity combine. Where the Citadel of Aleppo , the Great Mosque the madrasas and the aroma of spices in the old souks and Khans of the old city, carry you away with caravans that used to cross the city from China, Bukhara and Isfahan to the West, during the Golden Age of the Silk Roads from 12th to the early 15th centuries… It was time of optimism and dreams! How could I have imagined what destiny had in store for Syria! Then, years rolled by… And one day, all of a sudden, the sky fell on our heads and turned our world upside down! The country was ripped apart and the civil war ruined all aspects of life, including the magic city of Aleppo! Diaspora At this point came the moment of revelation with all its poignancy and intensity! Uprooted from homeland, we have become a diaspora! A displaced people, thrown to strange shores and under makeshift camps! Our warm houses, our childhood playgrounds, our blue sea, everything… were all stolen from us! Having been transferred to a completely different reality, I have come to fully understand what Enrico went through some sixty years ago, when he was forced to sing farewell to his beloved city of Constantine, Algeria! J’ai quitté mon soleil J’ai quitté ma mer bleue Leurs souvenirs se réveillent Bien après mon adieu The lovely melody of « J’ai quitté mon pays », which once used to cheer me up and arouse feelings of joy and love, now evokes multiple memories and images, extremely poignant! Extremely nostalgic! H. DONO Contributeur externe de Voix d’Exils 1. A popular Armenian singer 2. A popular Kurdish singer My last Christmas in Syria The last Christmas in Syria (2010) Photo: Hayro, membre de la rédaction vaudoise de Voix d’Exils My last memories of the magic of Christmas festivities in Syria The end of each October and the coming of November and December had always been a period of special significance to my family. It was the arrival of an event which we all had been eagerly waiting for: the informal declaration of the Christmas Season at our home in Syria! My wife, but specially my two children were insisting every time that we started the preparations for Christmas season as early as November. I myself, although sensing the same excitement as the children, usually protested at first, alleging that it was a bit early. A protestation that was proving to be vain As a matter of fact, they had every reason to be so enthusiastic. This was an opportunity for the family to escape from the everyday cares and worries of the year, into an imaginary wonderland of our own creation. Preparations meant a lot of work to do. First, I had to manage to bring from the attic the big artificial Christmas tree and the many small and big boxes containing Christmas decorations and ornaments. Part of them were painstakingly made by my wife throughout the years, accessories like, small pretty lanterns, Nativity sets, wreaths of different shapes and materials, colorful Santas and so on. Each of them was bringing sweet and cherished memories from the past. The last Christmas in Syria. Photo: Hayro, membre de la rédaction vaudoise de Voix d’Exils The decoration of the tree was taking two, sometimes three days and it was mostly done by me, but certainly not far from the watchful eyes of the children who often kept pressing me with their never-ending demands “Dad, hang this there, replace this with that this does not fit here”. In fact, it was necessary that all the ornaments, balls, bells, pinecones, vessels, ceramic angles, snowflakes, be well fitted and balanced on the tree. Then, before the finish, the gold and red Christmas lights had to be symmetrically placed and finally, the glittered star of Bethlehem was fixed at the top. With the first twinkling of the lights on the tree, I would sense the eyes of children shining with ecstasy and joy. Then, it was the turn of my wife to put the final touch. She added, with great love and care, different accessories to every room as well as balconies. Even the books in the library and the paintings on the walls had their share of the small pretty ornaments. Nonetheless, it couldn’t be complete without the charming lyrics of Bing Crosby’s album “White Christmas” that was reverberating through the house into filling the air with cheers and warmth. By the end of November, the house was dressing up for Christmas and this was immediately followed by the shopping sprees. Soon the refrigerators would overflow with various kinds of exotic produces and food that showed up only in December, and the house would smell strong spices and herbs bringing out the flavor of the season. The convivial atmosphere would reach a crescendo during the period between Christmas and the New Year’s Eve, where all the extended family members and in-laws would gather to feast and rejoice until the early hours of the morning. This much cherished family tradition went on until 2010. That was my last Christmas in my country Syria, one year before the outbreak of the vicious circle of the war that has shattered homes, split families and wrecked all aspect of life. Now, Christmas is approaching, it is already very cold. I am walking in the city center of Lausanne, one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Store windows along the street “Rue Saint-Laurent” have Christmas dressings. Shoppers hustle and bustle everywhere. Not very far, at St. Francoise square, pop up cabins offer hot chocolate drink and roasted chestnuts. Few meters away I hear a street music-band caroling: “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas just like the ones I used to know” A song that immediately touches a strong nostalgic chord in my heart. Hayrenik Dono Membre de la réduction vaudoise de Voix d ‘Exils.