Wad Alameen: Sorrows Lose Their Way
Mohamed Abdelmajid
I wished I could go out in a loincloth and trousers, barefoot, with a helmet, and shave my head, shouting at the top of my lungs, "Weve withered, weve withered," as the Tunisian rebel said. However, weve withered from sadness, sorrow, departure, and war.
Our coffee has naturally become the master; we drink it in the presence of sorrow (master). My white robe has turned black on its own. Our street has become a place to receive condolences, and our honey-colored eyes are now filled with sadness, and our brown color has become the official color of lamentations.
I read about Burhan offering condolences to the family of Mohamed Al-Amin, I wondered, can Burhan call every Sudanese citizen to offer condolences for Mohamed Al-Amin? Wad Alameen is one of us, can Burhan apologize to the people, as the war deprived us even of offering condolences?
Before I finish my article about the departure of Kamal Al-Jazouli and Hashem Karar, Mohamed Al-Amin and the journalist, the keeper of secrets and news, Osama Abu Shanab, departed. Another sorrow, like a burning ember that you step on alone.
We experience sorrow twice when a creative person departs. Once because he left, and once because he left in these days that do not allow us to participate in the funeral, and do not allow the departed to find their right in their homeland, to be buried in the capital where they lived. They have been buried far from the soil of the homeland to which they dedicated their lives.
We feel embarrassed when we lose them in these circumstances. We cannot do anything; in fact, we cannot even say anything.
Kamal Al-Jazouli departed in Cairo and was buried there. Hashem Karar departed in the Gulf and was buried there. Mohamed Al-Amin departed in America and was buried there, and Osama Abu Shanab departed in Wadi Halfa and was buried far from the capital where he used to shine.
My artistic appreciation began when I was a child, listening to the artist Ibrahim Al-Kashif. He was my favorite artist; I dont know how that happened. But I remember eagerly awaiting his songs on the radio and listening to them attentively. I used to sing them when I was alone, afraid someone would hear me singing for Al-Kashif.
In high school and university, my favorite artist was Mohamed Al-Amin, and thats where my relationship with him began. I bought his albums and wrote his songs secretly in the history and geography notebook. I continued on that path until I transformed from a (fan) of Mohamed Al-Amin to a (devotee). I had issues with Mohamed Al-Amin and would not accept a word against him.
One of the cultural signs of our generation was to write in the box of your favorite artist: Mohamed Al-Amin or Mustafa Said Ahmed. This was the pinnacle of cultural and artistic awareness. People looked at anyone whose favorite artist was Mohamed Al-Amin or Mustafa Said Ahmed with respect and admiration. Yes, even those who listened to Mohamed Al-Amin or Mustafa Said Ahmed were admired. The listener himself felt like an artist when listening to Mohamed Al-Amin or Mustafa Said Ahmed. The person whose favorite artist was Mohamed Al-Amin or Mustafa Said Ahmed was different from others in everything, in his culture, understanding, and uniqueness, even in his speech and clothing.
When I came to Khartoum from the states, I was in a state of astonishment in the capital (I was twisted with joy like a Bedouin visiting the city for the second time). The first and primary goal for me was to enter the Hilal Stadium and attend a concert by Mohamed Al-Amin. We did not give up this tradition even if we came to Khartoum for treatment. Our joy at entering the officers club to attend Mohamed Al-Amins concert was greater than our joy at entering the university. After Mohamed Al-Amin, my connection was with Osman Hussein, Mohamed Wardi, and Abu Araki Al-Bakheet, and at each stage of these stages, we had pleasure, a school, and life.
In Khartoum, as a student, I remember that I couldnt pass by a cafeteria or a juice shop if Mohamed Al-Amin was singing there. I was forced to drink a cup of lemon or orange juice, even if it was with my last penny, and it might even force me to walk back home because I spent my transportation money on a cup of lemonade just to listen to Mohamed Al-Amin. I couldnt get off a public vehicle that had Mohamed Al-Amins tape playing. We memorized Mohamed Al-Amins songs in public transportation. So, we would either get off at the last station or return with the same vehicle we came with if Mohamed Al-Amin was singing in the public transport we were using. The relationship between a person and their favorite artist is influential and important in building their personality, mood, and general culture. I believe that everyone, in each stage of their life, was a fan of a specific artist.
In Mohamed Al-Amins profile, before his distinctive voice, there was the procession (Al-Mawkeb), resembling processions in its diversity, multiplicity, colorfulness, and layers. Before his enchanting and unique music, and before his songs that were unlike others, I stop at Mohamed Al-Amins "humanity" and his artistic "sincerity" for which he lived. Mohamed Al-Amin was an artist whose tears were close. In this aspect, he resembled the Sunni artist Al-Sinni Al-Dhawi, who would cry in front of any touching situation. Al-Sinni Al-Dhawis tears would flow if he saw two children fighting. Mohamed Al-Amin was a weeping artist. How much his songs made him cry. People witnessed his tears when he sang "Bettaelim Men Al-Ayyam" despite saying in the same song, "Behind the smiles, I hid tears that I cried without anyone noticing." Wad Alameen was the entire Sudanese people feeling his tears while he tried to hide his tears behind smiles. Its rare to find a picture of Mohamed Al-Amin without him crying.
(Behind the smiles, I hid tears that I cried without anyone noticing) was a "status" for all the drivers of buses, Princes, and minibusses, written behind the vehicle. This was before the appearance of "statuses" on WhatsApp and Facebook. Mohamed Al-Amins tears confirm the humanity of this sensitive artist. Mohamed Al-Amin also cried when he sang with Mohamed Wardi, "Noor Al-Ain Wa Baad Ayyeh." I saw Mohamed Al-Amin like a child, joyfully singing with Mohamed Wardi and supplicating with him to the point of tears.
As for his artistic sincerity and immersion in his songs, it was evident in the incident where he stopped his audience from singing the song "Zaad Al-Shojoun" and told them, "Either you sing, or I sing." This incident stirred the public and became a "trend" not only locally but also on the Arab level.
Mohamed Al-Amins sincerity was also evident in the limited number of his songs. Despite his great talent, Mohamed Al-Amin did not produce an extensive repertoire. He would only release a song after several years. He released "Zaad Al-Shojoun" four years after receiving it from its poet, Fadl Allah Mohamed, who wrote it while he was a student at the University of Khartoum. Mohamed Al-Amin asked him for a new work after Fadl Allah graduated from the University of Khartoum and worked in journalism. His friend playfully teased him, saying, "You received Zaad Al-Shojoun and Im a law student, and I sang it after I graduated. If I give you the lyrics now, I wont hear it from you until I become a captain." This confirms Mohamed Al-Amins dedication to his artistic work. This dedication and sincerity were evident in Mohamed Al-Amins performance, which made him forget himself when singing, and his interaction with the audience in "Either you sing, or I sing" confirms this.
Artistically, since Mohamed Al-Amin appeared in the 1960s until his departure, he was the first artist of the youth. His public concerts inside and outside the country attest to that. The Officers Club remained a closed area for Mohamed Al-Amin, competing with even the young artists when they reached their peak.
Artist Ibrahim Awad said that when he heard Mohamed Al-Amin singing "Qulna Ma Mumkin Taseefar" while he was on a bus on his way to Medani, he got off the bus and returned home, canceling his trip. The song "Qulna Ma Mumkin Taseefar," which its poet Fadl Allah Mohamed named "Love and Circumstances," has a wonderful dramatic dialogue ("We dont enjoy in a world of comfort, and anyone other than you, we adore") and the most dangerous emotional equation that has not been proven mathematically yet ("And the strange thing is, the moment with you seems shorter than a minute, and the minute weighed more than once, we cant bear it"). All we can say to Mohamed Al-Amin is, "And you know, after you, we always stay awake until morning."
In the song "Zaad Al-Shojoun," also written by Fadl Allah Mohamed, there is a beautiful dramatic dialogue, and Mohamed Al-Amins songs were our provision in sorrows ("And you learn to flatter, if your heart ever tried not to beat, it explodes with longing"). Among the songs with dramatic dialogue is the song "Al-Jareeda," also written by Fadl Allah Mohamed, and in "Love and Circumstances" and "Zaad Al-Shojoun," there is an intriguing "narrative" context ("Reading what does it say, tell me, O peace, its interested, acting like it cares"). The song "Bettaelim Men Al-Ayyam" is a school, with lyrics by Is-haq Al-Halangi ("And tomorrow you return, without appointments, my heart visits you, saying I wish I had loved you early"). This is the part where Mohamed Al-Amin cries.
There is no greater tenderness than (I meet you, and Im all tenderness, and Im afraid of your gaze at me). What does Hashem Siddiq mean by more than that ("Your eyes are like my familys eyes, full of tenderness, like a melody in a section")? Mohamed Al-Amin sang for Abu Amina Hamed ("Raja Al-Bald") and for Mohamed Ali Jabara, the most beautiful songs of optimism and hope ("Ana Wa Habibi"): "Oh envious ones of our love, oh seekers of our conflict, look at others and my beloved. Mohamed Al-Amin sang for Mubarak Bashir ("Aweenatak") and for Hashem Siddiq ("Haroof Ismik" and "Kalam Lil-Helwa wa Hamsat Shouq").
And just as Mohamed Al-Amin left a mark on all emotional songs he sang, he left clear and great marks in the history of national songs as he sang the epic "Qissa Thawra" and also sang patriotically for Mahjoub Sharif and Fadl Allah Mohamed and Mubarak Bashir.
May Allah have mercy on Mohamed Al-Amin and Osama Abu Shanab, and for us, there will be a return. And there is no power or strength except through Allah.
