Can we hear the past?

On April 24th, almost two weeks after the second anniversary of the war in Sudan coined the world's biggest humanitarian crisis, we gathered in Zuid-Oost, Amsterdam, at The Black Archives to discuss the role of music and its ability to invoke revolutionary sentiment in Sudan. My BA thesis focused on this, informed by the following question, quintessentially also the title of my work: 'Can we hear the past?' 

Growing up, my parents would often play Sudanese music in and around the house, in the car, and honestly whenever they had the chance. Back in Khartoum, in my family home, my aunts and I would gather in the kitchen, songs would be sung, and people would instantly come together in harmony. It was a given in my family that music played a significant role in Sudanese culture.

As I dug deeper into the sounds of our past, I noticed how our revolutions almost simultaneously coincided with significant cultural and artistic changes. I began to piece together how these have and continue to be in direct dialogue.

The musical traditions of Sudan tell us a story of religious influences, most notably Sufism and the Madih Nabawi tradition. Equally, migration is another significant part of our musical history, combining musical elements of eastern, northern, and western Africa in sound. 
Women and their musical traditions are significant for their influence on the musical scene in Sudan. The genre' aghani banat' (literal translation: women's or girls' songs) has played an essential role in society over time; genres and topics range from songs that mourn and grieve our loved ones (aghani manah) to songs celebrating love and marriage (aghani sirah).

In my research, I reviewed over 100 years of Sudanese history and analysed these occurrences through the realm of music and the arts. My first entry point, Mihera Bint Abboud, was a 19th-century poetess and warrior who turned into a Sudanese folk heroine during the invasion of the Ottoman Empire. She is one of the earliest well-recorded figurines in Sudanese history that highlights the role of music and arts but equally defines the role of women in fighting for resistance and justice. During Muhammed Ali Pasha's troop's invasion, Mihera Bint Abboud would perform poetry to invoke patriotic sentiment and prepare the troops to fight for liberation (Badawi (1996). 

In 1899, Sudan was reconquered by the Anglo-Egyptian forces and officially became a colony. The White Flag Movement was one of Sudan's earliest recorded anti-colonial movements. Abd al-Latif, an early leader of the movement, was imprisoned for his involvement. During his imprisonment, his colleagues would greet his wife with the poem Umm Dhafayir ('O woman with braided hair'), initially composed by Obaid Abd al Nour, whose lyrics fuelled anti-colonial sentiment and uplifted revolutionary and political change at the time. 

During his imprisonment, his wife, Al-Azza, led a large military demonstration against the Anglo-Egyptian forces. Fellow WFL colleague and pioneer of Sudanese popular music, Haqeeba Khalil Farah, composed one of the most patriotic and well-known Sudanese songs, 'Azza fi Hawek' (My beloved Azza). Azza Fi Hawek articulates Farah's love for his beloved home country and pays homage to women like Al-Azza in fighting British and Egyptian colonial forces. 

As the country's independence neared, we had another prominent figure in Sudanese history: Hawa Al-TagTag. Hawa was a Sudanese woman singer who British officials repeatedly arrested for agitating for Sudanese independence. She would often perform independence by dressing in traditional women's wear garments, such as a toub in Sudan’s pre-Abarism flag (blue, green, yellow).

The King of Nuba, Mohammed Wardi, performed the song 'Al Yawm Narfae Rayat Aistiqlalina' ('Today we raise the flag of our Independence') in light of our independence celebrations in 1956. Within his song, he makes deep poetic and literary references to the colonial hardship endured by the people of Sudan. Even before independence, Wardi used music to signal the importance of opposing colonial forces in his song Sahi ya Kanaru ('Wake Up, Canary').

As we approach Sudan's post-independence history, the poem of the late Egyptian poet Amal Dunqul perhaps best articulates it. 

"لا تحلموا بعالم سعيد" ("Do Not Dream of a Happy World")
Do not dream of a happy world
Behind every dead Caesar (a tyrant/dictator)
Is a new Caesar
And after every revolutionary dies
Useless sorrows remain.

The band Igd-al Jalad utilised his poetry in the song Tuning (دوزنة). This mixed-member band used music to evoke and discuss revolutionary sentiment and imagine new ways of existing and being within Sudanese society during Omar al-Bashir's authoritarian dictatorship. They are also best known for their regional diversity, utilising musical traditions from the whole of Sudan within their discography. 

Another popular Sudanese musician, Ibrahim al Kashif, performed and recorded the song. 'Anaa 'Iifriqi' Anaa Sudani' ('I am African, I am
Sudanese') after witnessing the country's first coup d'etat in 1985. In conversation for my thesis, my interviewee Abdul Rahman shares the following about the song; 

Al-Atbrawi sang a patriotic song whose lyrics say, 'I am a Sudanese', but the the focus of the song was on glorifying the Sudanese by belonging to the Tree of the Arabs. One of his contemporaries, Ibrahim El-Kashif, took a different path and sang poetry in which he said, "I am an African; I am Sudanese', placing Sudan within its geographical framework (in the most popular patriotic songs today (2019) among the revolutionaries of the Sudanese revolution (cited in Khalil, p.31, 2021).

The song articulates Sudanese revolutionary sentiments and plays a significant role in Sudanese cultural memory. Songs such as Mulahamat' uktubar ('The Epic of October') by Mohammed Al-Ameen contextualised and articulated the stories of the later 1964 revolution. And so many more songs speak to the intimacies of Sudanese revolutionary history. 

Nowadays, Sudanese artists still use music to resist the current war and as a way of mourning and coping with the grief of the destruction. For example, Dutch-based Sudanese artist Razeen shares the song ‘Ameen’ as a poetic offering in sound and film to articulate the hardship the war has caused his family directly with his video imagery utilising archival material. The song serves as a love letter to peace, the love of his home country and his way of reconciling with the tragic events.

Ultimately, I could go on and on about the fantastic songs and artists who have helped shape and continue to shape our beautiful artistic revolution and the revolutionaries for their continued strength, care and vision to resist even during the most difficult times.
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In my departing words, I'd like to emphasise that my research did not discover or showcase something 'new'; it's something that Sudanese music and musicians have innately been able to capture. Our history's most intimate and revolutionary moments and nuances have been beautifully archived in these melodies and lyrics, and through this piece, I have only tried to further platform them. 

Please continue supporting the Sudanese people by informing yourself about what is happening. Below are some links to extra reading material and fundraising opportunities:

• SuRF
• Sapa
• Khartoum Aid Kitchen
• Sudanese Solidarity Collective
• Save Al-Geneina / Hope and Haven for Refugees
• Darfur Women Action Group