Wardis Oud
Mohamed Abdel Majid
We are a generation proud to have grown up on the songs of the artist Mohamed Wardi. We danced and swayed to them. We stood and fell with them, and on them, we leaned and healed our wounds. We learned from them speech and stuttering, scribbled them on the walls, wrote their names on doors (and in the beard of the trees, you wrote), and made them "statuses" for our emotions before making them for our phones and pages (this age has become more expensive with you, and time has proven its worth, O the dearest of people, show me kindness).
We are a generation that grew up on Wardis songs not only in the realm of emotional songs but also in the realm of national and revolutionary songs. We knew the independence of Sudan initially through the Independence Anthem written by the poet Abdulwahid Abdullah and sung by Wardi. The first of January was a celebration for us as children. We did not yet understand the meaning of independence, and the radio broadcast on that day with Wardi singing "Today we raise the banner of our independence." This snippet felt like joy in the eyes of our mothers, and we seemed to be in a state of pride as we played in the yard. We didnt wear anything new, distribute sweets, or wait for the meat, but we reveled to the point of astonishment in this anthem:
Let history remember our heroes
Abdul Latif and his companions planted the pure seed
And their souls overflowed with enthusiasm like rich seas
For us, they cultivated the fields, and for days like this, they worked...
One of the sad ironies is that the poet of this anthem, Abdulwahid Abdullah Yousif, passed away in the first week of May last year, just days after the outbreak of the war. Certainly, his tender heart could not bear to see his homeland lose its independence again.
We are the generations that loved (Khalas Kiberti, and you turned nineteen), we teased each other about this age with that song (I call it). We filled the longing in (Ask your heart about me, ask, let it inform you of my question, my yearning, ask). We knew fear from (Im afraid of you, my fear is that you forget me and forget the nights). And we tasted the old sadness in (Why). Ismail Hassan represented for us a significant emotional crossroads, and despite those convictions, we didnt resist much, often returning to (He traveled and came back, in your absence, I found the whole earth an exile). The whole earth is an exile.
Doush scarred us with (Astonishment), and friend Mudathir with (The returning beloved), and as for Jirai, there is (No need). Tajani Saeed concluded with the return and return on all Sudanese passports with (In your absence, I found the whole earth an exile). We experienced exile in (Gereib, and Haidi in Gerebtou, Hiznanan Yakloub Lai Dimauto, Hazzanan Yigalu Bali Li Aoubto). And do we have in this context anyone other than Salah Ahmed Ibrahim?
We are from the generations that watched the scientific wedding of the bride in "Qamar Buba" and the old one, oh, how old is Hamam! And lived the reality of "And far away, you spent the night, and with you, I take pride in the beautiful morning" and "With you, my waiting, even if its with modest means"... even with modest means.
Majoub Sherif, we faced challenges with his words. Dr. Mubarak Bashir, in the wedding of sacrifice, outlined our difficulties with these words:
Now we remember all the martyrs,
All those who wrote history with lines of blood.
Now we remember all the honorable, all who shouted in the face of injustice, no, no...
We are your sons in noble grief.
And we sing for you, my homeland, as Khalil sang... as Mahira sang, igniting generations after generations.
And we sing for the fire of Makki in the heart of the intruder... for the bravery when Abdul Fadil fell in his cannon.
We wrote Wardis songs in school notebooks, and we memorized his melodies more than multiplication tables. My friend Ayman used to say that criticizing Wardi in front of me was like saying: Curse your father. We drank coffee in "Lau Bahamsa" if it was made right, and in "Al-Haneena Al-Sukkara" if there was extra sugar. We drank tea with milk in "Aqabilik" and sodas in "Aththubni wa Zid Aththabi, maybe my heart will harden."
Once I wrote that our birth certificate comes out with "The depth of your feeling of freedom, remains features in your descendants." In our national numbers, "I love you when you smile, and I love you when you frown." Our honey-colored eyes come out of "We love from our country whats outside the country." And our brown color passes through "Tonight, oh brown one, oh charming one tonight, oh brown one." Wardi, with all this impact and legacy, we accept nothing in it. It has shaped all stages of our lives, our memories, and our beautiful present.
Colleague Khaled Fathi, through the "Al Arabiya Net" website, wrote a report presenting another tragedy of the war. In that report, it was mentioned, "A wide spectrum of Sudanese people on widespread social media platforms have been busy during the past hours circulating images and details of the sad story of the looting of the oud (musical instrument) of the famous Sudanese artist and musician, Mohamed Wardi, known as the first African artist, with strong indications that his entire artistic legacy is being looted, stolen, and vandalized. These sad details have occupied social media platforms, garnering significant interaction."
And we say: When artist Mohamed Wardi was imprisoned in Kober after Hashim al-Attas coup on July 19, 1971, he asked the prison administration to bring his oud, which he composes and sings with. They refused, justifying that they did not arrest him while he was on a tank but arrested him because of this "oud." This "oud" was the reason for Wardis entry into prisons. Khaled Fathi wrote about it, quoting the musician Abdulwahab Mohamed Osman, the son of the late artist Mohamed Wardi: "Abdulwahab Wardi, the son of the late artist, said that a friend saw one of the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) soldiers carrying the precious oud after it was stolen from Wardis house in Al-Mamoura neighborhood in Khartoum. The mentioned friend immediately offered to buy the oud, and the thief agreed. After that, the friend sent a picture of the oud to Abdulwahab, who, in turn, sent it to his brother Muntasir Wardi, who confirmed to him that the oud belongs to their father, the musician Mohamed Wardi. Abdulwahab revealed the details of this sad story in a post on his Facebook page, accompanied by a picture of the oud in the hands of his father, confirming in the same post that all evidence indicates that their fathers house has been completely robbed, and his invaluable artistic legacy, which is priceless and is considered a national, human, and global heritage, has "fallen in a shocking incident." Abdulwahab Wardis touching words ignited social media in Sudan, garnering significant interaction."
The danger of the real war is manifested in the destruction and removal of this heritage, intentionally or unintentionally, especially since the Rapid Support Forces are present in the buildings of the Sudanese Radio, which preserves the voice of Sudan and its history. They are also present in the Sudan TV building (image), in addition to their presence in various archaeological sites in Sudan. It was stated in the report, "Users on social media in Sudan also circulated a video clip of an RSF soldier sending threatening and intimidating phrases from inside the famous Lion Temple in the Naga area."
Therefore, we say: No to war. The National Museum and the National Theater in Omdurman, and the Sudanese Document House, have been damaged by this war. All our values and heritage are being destroyed because of this war. We are no longer afraid for our present and future as much as we fear for Sudans history and its great heritage!
One of the strange ironies is that the Rapid Support Forces are also present in the Al-Riyadh Sports Club in Omdurman, and in Al-Hilal and Al-Merrikh stadiums, and it is not surprising if these forces are also present in peoples homes, markets, and hospitals! Here, we do not blame only the Rapid Support Forces; we blame the one who brought them and incited this war. We blame the army for enabling them and losing the war and losing peace as well.
The problem is not in destroying the Shambat Bridge, or burning the Coastal and Desert Tower, or burning the Jili refinery, or hitting the Jebel Aulia reservoir. The problem is in burning the Sudanese soul and destroying Sudans history and heritage.
Look at these things, and know that war strikes at the core of what we possess. It strikes at the Sudanese soul, for our present may have many distortions and problems, but our past is full of wonders and beauty. A solid and steadfast past, we take pride in, and our foreheads are raised because of it.
The "oud" that Wardi composed "Lau Bahamsa," "Khaf Min Allah," "Al-Wad," "Al-Huzn Al-Qadeem," "Bnadieha," "Aqabilik," "Ya Aaz Al-Nas," "Ya Naseena," represents the creative soul of Sudan. The "oud" is the soul of the Sudanese people.
...
End Notes
We will return later to comment on the events passing by quickly.
We couldnt pass over Wardis "oud."
We will return anew.
