The shell doesnt differentiate between the rhythm officer (drummer) and the military officer!

Mohamed Abdel Magid
I mentioned in a previous correspondence that every laundry worker in the neighborhoods, or what is colloquially called makoogiyah, stands out with a keen ear and sound judgment. They have a finely tuned hearing and a good sense for the radio at the highest level, with refined taste and a sensitive ear.

The tape recorder that is connected to a belt or a strap or a stok (a wooden pole) or a seer (a metal rod), is a fixed and firmly established item in all makoogiyah shops. Even when we dont find it in that usual form, we mentally draw it this way. Its like love in the words of Nizar Qabbani, Love on earth is a fragment of our imagination. If we didnt find it on it, we would have invented it. Similarly, we invent the traditional image of the tape recorder if we dont find it in the makoogiyah.

But I dont stop there, I go further in this field. I have a deeper association with that tape recorder, or that old brown-covered radio, with the artist Tayeb Abdullah singing the song Al-Seneen (The Years). Whenever I visit a makoogiyah, I hear this song echoing from the laundry shop with the melodious voice of Tayeb Abdullah. Youre now listening to the lyrics, melodies, and performance of the artist Tayeb Abdullah for the song Al-Seneen. They told me to forget him and erase memories of him from my imagination and forget all the past and distance myself from his path, away from his life. Is there a harsher choice than this? In the same context, as Al-Akhbar people say, I associate the artist Ali Al-Lahou (Al-Lahaw) with the Sahrage station of Haj Yousif, as I heard him on an Atiqah evening while I was a student at one of the milk stands, singing Al-Tayr Al-Khadari. The song became connected in my mind with the place Sahrage and with every cup of milk I drank or didnt drink afterward. And we are people who live our good lives with sincere intentions, and anyone seeking their happiness, the days bear witness to their actions.

The radio that operates with battery stones, sometimes needing a jolt or a tap from your hands grip to hear its sound, especially if you switch the frequency. That radio at home always had its place above the silver before the refrigerator came and was placed on it. We used to listen to the program Alam Al-Riyadhah (The World of Sports) from within the kitchen studio while preparing lunch, and the radio would be put on the kitchen window.

Life was sweeter before Facebook, WhatsApp, and encrypted sports channels.

There are things that you associate with certain things, and they remain eternal and deeply ingrained in your mind, holding their details within you and bringing them back whenever a shadow of them passes through your thoughts.

Similarly, the artist Hassan Khalifa Al-Atbarawi is associated in my mind with the song Nasana Habibna Al-Ma Manzour Nasana (We Forgot Our Beloved Who Has Been Absent). It was always played by Omdurman Radio just before the 3 oclock news bulletin. This song at that time was like the path of jalgoz (a Sudanese traditional swing). It flows directly in your veins. When you hear Al-Atbarawi during that time of afternoon heat, you feel that his voice is like a cloud or a breeze that eases the burning heat of the afternoon sun.

And if its winter, Al-Atbarawis voice becomes the warmth that makes you feel cozy all over.

Places hold power, as they connect certain places to certain events or certain people.

The Sudanese author Muawia Mohamed Nur says in his short story Al-Makan (The Place), as spoken by the narrator:
And when he read about a place or heard about it, he would imagine and draw it in his mind. When circumstances aided him and he went to that place, he saw it just as he had imagined it. Even the setting and minute details that dont occur to a persons mind, he might be astonished sometimes when he visits a place for the first time and imagines that he knew this place before in another life. Everything appears before him like a strange dream. But the familiarity or closeness that he feels toward those places and their twists and turns makes him imagine that he has known that and accompanied it for a stretch of time in another life, and there is no doubt in that, and it is unquestionable.

I cant forget the delightful state and joy that Omar Al-Sharif brings when he appears with his oud (a musical instrument) on television. He transforms our evenings into joyful nights and makes our holidays more festive.

Omar Al-Sharif was a constant figure in the Eid programs on television. His beautiful appearance with Al-Tajani Haj Musa would turn our holiday into more than just a holiday.

Omar Al-Sharif and Al-Fateh Kaslawi represent the rhythms of Sudanese melodies, just as Khajraj, Al-Hilangi, and Halaawi represent the flow of words, or Tawteelha.

Omar Al-Sharif, who graduated from the Institute of Music and Theatre and worked in the Music Division, wielded his melody as his weapon. However, he came and left during a time of war where nothing was heard except the sound of bullets.

It was only natural for Omar Al-Sharif to leave with no weapon other than his oud during the era of guns, tanks, artillery, and warplanes.

And just as Omar Al-Sharifs departure was sorrowful, leaving silently during a time of war that destroyed peoples morale and psychological resilience, undoubtedly affecting Omar Al-Sharif psychologically while he suffered from diabetes, leaving behind a wide void. Just like how Arki, a member of the Aqad Al-Jalad band, left due to being affected by injury or shrapnel from those cursed war weapons. Hes not an officer in the armed forces or the Rapid Support Forces. He is nothing other than a rhythm officer in the artistic band called Aqad Al-Jalad, not a military or war band.

The explosion and the bullet dont differentiate between the rhythm officer and the military officer. Its war, Arki.

And the images remain scattered between this and that within us.

Among my personal beliefs, as I recall the smile of Omar Al-Sharif while embracing his oud on Sudanese television, and Arki standing among the members of the Aqad Al-Jalad band when Khartoum sang, I consider that Khartoum lived its youth with Zidan Ibrahim. Khartoum never experienced its youth as it did with Zidan Ibrahim when he was the first youth artist.

We held our hearts tightly when Zidan sang Khalaak Wara Al-Qash (You Left, and the Kash is Gone), and is there anything more heart-wrenching than that?

Likewise, Im certain that Hamad Al-Rayhs songs, like the seasons, exhibit diversity and variation. This artist sang for Al-Doush Al-Saqiyah (The Water Carrier), and he sang for Salah Ahmed Ibrahim his most beautiful lyrics in Ya Marya. He also sang for Mahjoub Sharif Minadeelak (Your Handkerchiefs). This trio, Al-Doush, Salah, and Sharif, were only united later by Mohammed Wardi and Hamad Al-Rayh.

Hamad Al-Rayh sang for Suleiman Abdul Jalil Al-Rahil (The Departure), and sang Al-Wasiyah (The Will) for him. He sang the two songs from Al-Ezam (The Resolution) album in Sudanese music.

He sang for Murhef Osman Khalid Ila Mosaferah (To the Traveler), and he also sang for the poet of romance and the president of the republic of love, Ishaq Al-Halangi, Hamam Al-Wadi (The Valleys Pigeon) and Shalaw Al-Kalam Ghabuh Lih (Why They Brought the Words to Him).

Hamad Al-Rayh formed a remarkable duet with Abdel Rahman Mekawy in Kayfa Lamma Al-Faraq Yuhassal (How Can the Separation Occur), and he sang for Azmi Ahmed Khalil Bareedak Wa Fee Intidar Aynayk Kamilat Al-Sabr Kulluh (Your Letter, and Waiting for Your Eyes, Completed All Patience).

He also sang for Ismail Hassan the symbolic song Teer Al-Ruhu (The Souls Bird), and he excelled when he sang for Kamal Abdel Majid Taih Al-Khasl (The Stray Hair).

Hamad Al-Rayh sang for Nizar Qabbani Saghayyirati (My Young Ones), and sang for Abu Al-Qasim Al-Shabbi Al-Subh Al-Jadid (The New Morning). This is something that no artist had done before, where Hamad Al-Rayh sang for more than thirty poets.

The musical and melodic diversity is not less than the diversity in his choice of lyrics. Hamad Al-Rayh composed melodies for Nagi Al-Qudsi, Al-Fateh Kaslawi, Mohammed Siraj Al-Din, Omar Al-Sharif, Yusuf Al-Samani, and Al-Aqib Mohammed Al-Hassan, in addition to his own melodic masterpieces.

I will return to Hamad Al-Rayh in a separate space.

We remain with those days of the past, where we never forget that entering Khartoum and stopping there was only complete with a concert by Aqad Al-Jalad or Mahmoud Abdul Aziz.

The concerts of Aqad Al-Jalad served as a thermometer for your culture and a measure of your artistic taste. As for Mahmoud Abdul Aziz, his albums were eagerly sought after by university students who were keen on having them just as they were keen on their lecture notebooks.

We waited for the latest tape by Mahmoud Abdul Aziz just like we awaited the exam schedule when it was posted on the board.

Aqad Al-Jalad, since its first appearance with Osman Al-Naw, Shamat, Hava Al-Mansouri, Banga, Anwar, and Joili to Hamza Sulaiman, Manal Badr Al-Din, and even Zolo and the network, represented a civilized and cultural façade for Khartoum. Attending an Aqad Al-Jalad concert at the Wad Nubawi Stadium on New Years or at the Officers Club or the Coptic Library was a measure of your progress and refinement.

Ill continue talking about Hamad Al-Rayh in a separate context.

Khartoum now has not only lost its infrastructure; it has lost its identity, cultural foundation, and social fabric that once distinguished it.

Al-Hilal and Al-Merrikh were another form of genuine social interaction in Khartoum, and indeed throughout Sudan. What succeeded for Al-Hilal and Al-Merrikh, governments and political parties failed to achieve. In El Fasher, Port Sudan, Nyala, El Geneina, and Babanusa, there are clubs named Al-Hilal and Al-Merrikh. Even in Juba and Wau, you find Al-Hilal and Al-Merrikh. This is where politics faltered.

The identity of Khartoum is now transforming, overrun by looting and plundering. Cultural nights in Khartoum have become arenas for cannons and bombs. The theaters, clubs, and stadiums have turned into military barracks!

We long for the time when Omar Al-Sharif was the symbol of Khartoum, where Saad Eldin Ibrahims Al-Azeiza and Bein Al-Zuhour Matsoor resonated, and where Ya Al-Garik Gamalik captivated us. Omar Al-Sharifs musical rendition of Fi Al-Laylat Deek exudes musical finesse. Arki with the group Akd Al-Jalad represented the epitome of artistic enjoyment that we found in their performances. Arki was a phenomenon in and of himself within the context of Akd Al-Jalad.

We ask God for mercy and forgiveness for Omar Al-Sharif and Arki, members of Akd Al-Jalad. Our condolences go to their families, the entire artistic community, and specifically the members of Akd Al-Jalad. Our condolences extend to the whole Sudanese nation. There is no power or strength but from God.

We used to eagerly await Sports World on Radio Omdurman, and we used to ride the buses of Omdurman, passing by the White Nile Bridge. We would compete for the seats near the windows to enjoy the view as we entered Omdurman, sometimes through the Arbaeen Street, and sometimes through the Murada Street.

We miss the bustling and noisy Arab market. We long for Ful Al-Noush and the streets of Al-Hilal and the lanes of Abu Al-Zuhour. We yearn for Radio Hala 96, coffee, tea, conversations with friends, and the Sudan News when the youth of Hala were painting a new dawn to liberate Sudans media from its circumstances.