FRANK 39: The Middle East by Frank151

FRANK151 STAFF Founding Publishers Creative Director Guest Curator Editor In Chief Managing Editor Editor At Large Reality Editor Photo Editor Production Director Art Director Lead Designer Title Design Cover Calligraphy Copy Editor Contributors

Interns

Mike and Stephen Malbon Sir Frank Mohammad Dagman Frank Green Adam Pasulka J. Nicely Dan Tochterman Craig Wetherby Anton Schlesinger Thomas Bongiorno Shanti Garcia Sumayya Alsenan Turkish writer Haqqi (1290-1365 H) in Thulth style. Stefanie “Schui” Schumacher Samera Abed, Karim Adel, Ridwan Adhami, Shadi Al-Ali, Laith Al-Majali, Ghada Amer, Armen Danilian, Yaniv Edry, Khaled Elsayed, RichJoseph Facun, Rana Good, Ron Goskin, Sage Hazarika, Maureen Mahony, Maximillian Menacher, Louisa Menke, Matt Olsen, Arthur Rashkovan, Ghayth Salman, Ellen Stagg, Eric Staniford, Ali Sultan, Synapse, Nicole Velasco Ajani Brooks, AJ Esguerra, Eric Grebe, Christian Hinestrosa, Tamara Mays, Sikboy

Director of Legal Affairs Associate Publisher Marketing Director Distro League Manager FDL Sales Manager Chop Shop General Manager Chop Shop Assistant Manager US/Japan Ambassador Far East Operations Directors Far East Logistics Industry Relations

Brian J. Marvin Eric Shorter Domingo Neris Dave Cove Todd Nisbet Mr. Bee Thaiana Cruz Daisuke Shiromoto Lyntaro Wajima, Takayuki Shibaki Yosuke Nakata, Tomonori Mitsuo Christian Alexander, Daks, Max Perlich

Advertising Inquiries Creative Submissions General Information Japanese Inquiries Frank & FDL Apparel Inquiries

advertising@frank151.com content@frank151.com info@frank151.com tokyo@frank151.com apparel@frank151.com

FRANK is published quarterly by Frank151 Media Group L.L.C. “Frank”, “Frank151”, and “Frank151.com” are trademarks of the Frank151 Media Group. All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part without permission is strictly prohibited.

DESERT SHIPS Words and photos Rich-Joseph Facun A quilt of dust drapes a trail that leads sheikhs and tribes of men through rolling golden dunes as far as the eye can see, to one destiny, Million Street. On this short strip of road is a tapestry of voices melodically spewing intermingled words, blasting through crackling megaphones attached to SUVs—each imminent voice sounding more and more like a used-car salesman, beckoning the ears of a buyer for his four-legged fortunes. Roadside, men of deep bedouin roots and conviction, from Bahrain, Kuwait, Oman, Qatar, and Saudi Arabia, mingle with their desert ships—or camels, for those not from this land. Welcome to the Mazayin Dhafra Camel Festival. Each year bedouins travel from all corners of the Arabian Peninsula to sell camels for millions of dirhams and, more importantly, to compete in the camel beauty pageant. The contest, held in Abu Dhabi, is one of the biggest and richest events of its kind, with more than $9 million and over 100 cars up for grabs as prizes. Camels have long been revered as the desert ships of these lands, and they remain a valuable cultural asset to the heritage of the bedouin. This relationship between man and beast has existed for centuries and dates back thousands of years in the Middle East. Above all, camels provided a means of transportation across the desert, but were also used during raids on other tribes to claim other camels. A family’s pack of camels offered milk for nourishment and hair that was woven into blankets and tents. The

dung, flattened into patties, burned as fuel for fire. Even the urine was used as a detractor of lice when applied to one’s hair. Bedouin life has always centered on a transient existence; moving from one location to another, land held no value. Instead, these ships of the desert became the measure of each man’s wealth. Since the discovery of oil in the United Arab Emirates in the last century, the bedouin lifestyle has faded into extinction. Thatched huts have been replaced by towering Babel-esque skyscrapers and even the once highly coveted camel has been traded in for the latest high-end SUV. Preservation of the Emirates’ cultural heritage may in the end prove futile. For now, Million Street offers a remarkable glimpse into a rich and ancient lifestyle struggling to maintain relevance.

THE CULTURE OF FIGHTING WORDS Words Mohammad Dagman The Middle East is rich with written works. Arab literary figures have left a great many beautiful and influential texts throughout history. Particular examples have remained more popular than the most famous kings. Here are five novels from the 20th century that are very important because of their impact and popularityâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;or rather, notorietyâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;with certain establishments in the Arabic-speaking world.

Najeeb Mahfuz, Awlad Haretna (The Sons of Our ’Hood). This Nobel Prize winner knew how to anger the traditional religious establishment. Awlad Haretna first appeared in 1959 in al-Ahram, which remains Egypt’s leading newspaper. By December of the same year, protestors—mainly religious figures and conservatives— stopped al-Ahram from publishing parts of the novel. Not until 1962 was the first edition published in Beirut, Lebanon by Dar al-Adab, the foremost Arabic publishing company of the time. Dar al-Adab had more freedom to print controversial texts, offering refuge to many Arabic literary figures whose works were banned by their own states. Awlad Haretna was not published in Egypt until 2006, by Dar al-Shuruq. Mahfuz’s first written works, published articles dealing mostly with philosophy—his main area of study—and God, date from as early as 1930. He never stopped airing his anger at the religious establishment, even after he was nearly assassinated by religious fundamentalists in 1994. Muhammad Shukri, al-Khubz alHafi. This novel did not first appear in Arabic. An English version, translated in 1973 by Shukri’s friend, the author Paul Bowles, was published under the title For Bread Alone. The playwright Tennessee Williams wrote great things about this distinguished novel. Nearly a decade later, it finally appeared in Arabic. There are few novels from 20th century Arabic literature more read than al-Khubz al-Hafi, an autobiography from a trilogy detailing Shukri’s life after leaving his family at 11 to become a homeless prostitute among Tangier’s infamous criminal underworld. This book was banned in most Arabic countries for “street” lan-

guage and explicit scenes of drug use and sex. When Shukri died in 2003, however, his native Morocco commemorated him with a state funeral. His works have since been widely revisited there. Haydar Haydar, Waleema li-A’shab al-Bahr (A Banquet for the Seaweeds). Written by the Syrian Haydar, Waleema li-A’shab al-Bahr is about an Iraqi communist fighting his own government. He escapes and finds refuge in post-Independence / postRevolution Algeria where his love affair angers the locals. The first edition appeared in 1982. The novel received immediate attention thanks to its style, language, and originality. Initially, protests against Waleema li-A’shab al-Bahr were mild. Not until the year 2000, when the Egyptian Ministry of Culture printed the novel, did a religious cleric protest its language, putting it at the center of a vehement debate regarding religion and freedom of speech. Al-Tayyeb Saleh, Mawsem al-hijra ila al-Shimal (The Season of Migration to the North). This Sudanese writer first published Mawsem al-hijra ila al-Shimal in 1966 in a magazine. Later the same year, it was printed as a book by Dar alAwdeh in Beirut, Lebanon. Dealing with the East-West relationship, the story is told through the life of two characters. One marries an English woman and returns to Sudan as a lecturer. While in Sudan, he meets the novel’s other principal character, who reveals stories similar to his own. Although banned in several countries for its sex scenes, Mawsem al-hijra ila al-Shimal is considered by many to be the best novel of 20th century Arabic literature.

Arthur at an S4P surf clinic in Tel Aviv.

SURFING 4 PEACE Words Matt Olsen Photos courtesy of Surfing 4 Peace It’s hard to talk about surfing in a war zone without someone making a reference to the classic scene in Coppola’s Apocalypse Now. But here in the Middle East, things are a little different. In our world, Charlie does surf, and there’s nothing we want more than to share a few waves with him. We’re in the Gaza Strip, the tiny, overcrowded piece of the Palestinian Territories nestled between Israel, Egypt, and the Mediterranean Sea, currently controlled by the militant group Hamas. And whenever the Israeli military and Hamas militants are gracious enough to refrain from lobbing missiles at each other, we’re Surfing 4 Peace. The plan is simple. When governments can’t make peace between themselves, it is up to the regular citizens to build the personal ties on which peace is made and sustained. Surfing 4 Peace is not an organization—it’s a community of surfers and enthusiasts who reach out across cultural and political barriers to create friends out of enemies through surfing and beach culture, with an emphasis on coexistence, cross-cultural dialogue, and the shared surfing experience.

Founded in 2007 by Dorian “Doc” Paskowitz and Israeli surf/skate kingpin Arthur Rashkovan, Surfing 4 Peace first made international headlines by donating a shipment of used boards from shops and individuals in Israel across the war-ravaged border to the small community of surfers in the Gaza Strip. In addition to continued cooperation with the surfers in Gaza, who are now united together in the Gaza Surf Club, Tel Aviv-based Surfing 4 Peace also aims to build ties between Arabs and Jews within Israel’s borders, two populations that rarely mix, even in Israel’s cultural capital. As the community grows, S4P plans to bring the message north to Lebanon and further south to Egypt. Today, Surfing 4 Peace initiatives are run by a small group of dedicated enthusiasts, led by Arthur Rashkovan, with contributions of time, equipment,

Delivering donated boards to the Gaza Surf Club.

Ibrahim, a local surfer and lifeguard, on duty.

Matt at an S4P surf clinic in Tel Aviv.

The Gaza Surf Club.

and expertise rolling in from supporters around the world. The recipe is the same: keep it simple, keep it focused on community, and watch it grow. We’re not trying to raise money, we’re trying to raise awareness and build a community that transcends borders. As we work to get badly needed equipment to our friends in Gaza, we don’t just do it to get them in the water, we do it to get them in the water with us. We might not be paddling out while the napalm rains down, but Duvall’s line, “You either fight, or you surf,” still holds true. S4P does not exist in a bubble. Everyone in the S4P community has been touched by the ArabIsraeli conflict. On both sides of the border, former soldiers and victims of war are joining S4P and making the conscious choice to seek common ground, rather than fight over it. In

Gaza, young men who might otherwise be training for conflict are instead learning how to duck dive, repair dings, and teach the next generation how to find peace in the sea and, at least for a while, feel free. Surfing 4 Peace is not going to bring peace to this troubled world by itself, but while our governments bicker, we will cross the lines that need to be crossed, rebuild the bridges that others destroy, and work for the day when we can prove that, in the words of Doc Paskowitz, “people who surf together, can live together.” Matt Olsen is the Director of Explore Corps, a US-based non-profit that sponsors the Gaza Surf Club and provides 501c support and oversight for Surfing 4 Peace. www.surfing4peace.org www.gazasurfclub.com www.explorecorps.org

EDWARD SAID Interview and photo Mohammad Dagman In 1996 I had the opportunity to interview professor Edward Said. Throughout his career as a critic, theorist, advocate, and teacher, Said questioned Western attitudes towards “other” peoples and places. Orientalism—perhaps his best-known book—is considered a seminal work in the field of postcolonialism. In spite of his relative fame, Professor Said was very down to earth while he discussed his world-renowned theories. Frank151: Your work as a critic—education, culture, literature, music—is widely published. What do you feel you have contributed? Edward Said: Well, I was one of the first to try to shift the style of American criticism to take into account the developments in continental Europe, in a way which later came to be called literary theory. Second, I think that I contributed to the emergence of a new critical language which allows one to talk not just about a literary work itself in a narrowly critical style, but also about society, history, language, linguistics, anthropology, psychology. I have always tried to see the literary text through different perspectives— sometimes contradictory ones. I read, say, an English novel, like one of Jane Austen’s, and see in it not just the structure of English society, but also how other cultures were paid attention to. There were so many images of the British Empire, from which I

came—not only the Middle East, but of the Mediterranean, India, the West Indies, etcetera. In reading literature, one should look at the ideological, the social, and so on. They all should be put together. F151: Would you say that English literature has not always dealt fairly with other cultures? ES: Yes, but “fairly” may not be the right word. There was no attempt to link European culture with what it depended upon: the culture of others. What we have instead is the notion that Europe was sort of enclosed within itself. If you studied European literature, you concentrated on Europe. What interested me was the extent to which that very same culture, with all its greatness and richness, depended upon other cultures that it absorbed and took from. I was interested in showing that partly because I was a comparatist by training, but also because I realized early on

that I was not a member of European culture. I was talking about it as a guest who wanted to bring it to the insight and experience of others. F151: Do you think morality plays a part in the works written about other cultures? ES: That is tricky. It is not always a conscious choice that an individual writer makes. Let us take somebody like Flaubert. He goes to Egypt or North Africa and meets the courtesan. He treats her as a woman obviously, who is inferior to man, and as an exotic being. I think these three things go together, these perspectives build upon each other. I don’t think there’s any culture that doesn’t treat other people that way. The question of morality comes up with a number of so-called “objective scholars,” particularly at the end of the 19th and certainly in the 20th century, who produce a kind of scholarship that is useful in the continuing domination of other cultures. So that when you produce a portrait of a native Egyptian that shows him to be subservient, wily, untrustworthy—congenitally—and this

is presented with the authority of a famous scholar, then the question of morality comes up. Also, the relationship between knowledge and power interests me a lot. F151: Do you have a theory of criticism? ES: I think that is another contribution that I made to the study of literature and criticism in general—the notion of criticism as investigation, where you ask the text not only what it says, but also what it doesn’t say, what is hidden inside of it, what it assumes, what it can’t say. In the case, for example, of Camus in The Stranger, the stranger is the Arab who does not have a name. I attach a great importance to that, because Camus will not, or cannot, give the man a name. He is interested in not doing that. The main thing to me, and what I try to teach my students, is to read with a skeptical eye. It has nothing to do with telling them not to enjoy things. On the contrary, I tell them to take great pleasure in reading and admiring writers like Kipling and Camus—with whom I disagree politically—because they are great writers. I want them to be able to see

that, but I also want them to be able to see the other things there. F151: What importance do you place on theory? ES: For me, theory is a tool. I am no longer interested in theory in itself. Insofar as it enables me to understand more, to read better, theory is important. In my books Orientalism and Culture and Imperialism, there are many theoretical implications on which I elaborated. But what happened in my field was the overcapitalization of theory. You talk about theory to other theorists, who are only interested in theory. What interests me is how a literary text can be situated in the world. From that respect, theory can become a kind of impediment. F151: Do you attach a moral responsibility to theory? ES: I’m not happy with the word “moral.” There is an intellectual responsibility, which contains a moral core. There’s an intellectual responsibility to read carefully as much as possible, and to be rigorous in not resorting to clichés or easy formulas. In my own teachings I very rarely teach the same thing. I force

myself to change my courses. That keeps me honest. What I think that the teacher should do is to try and take students into new areas, not review the same old material from the same ancient notes. I think also that there is a responsibility toward the material. I’m very sensitive to distortion. I think one has a responsibility to present a text as faithfully as possible. F151: You are an accomplished pianist as well as a music critic. Can you tell us your beliefs about creativity and originality? ES: Just like that? No. Well…let me say this. I think that one of the benefits of a life led among masterpieces is that it enables you to recognize originality in others. But there’s no definition of originality. It’s a feeling you have, a recognition you make, that something’s changed the way you look at things. As for creativity, my intellectual mentor, the Italian philosopher Vico, argued that the workings of the mind are themselves creative—and at the bottom, poetic—which isn’t to say that we are all equally creative, but that the possibility for creativity is there in each of us.

ARMENIA REVISITED Words and photos courtesy of Armen Danilian Even in these hyper-saturated, information-driven times, Armenia continues to be a mystery. When asked, many people still can’t find its location on a map, much less identify who exactly are the Armenians. It’s a country inhabited by adrenaline junkies, mountain climbers, philosophers, athletes, and soldiers. In fact, Armenia is a country in limbo, not only in terms of the contemporary transition from tradition to modernity, but also in its historic role as a passageway between Europe and the Middle East. And while the Armenia of today is a nation of Western ambitions and tastes, its cultural heritage has always belonged to the Eastern domain. The host of socioeconomic woes that are symptomatic of this transition— high rates of emigration, even higher rates of unemployment among young males, sectarian conflicts in its sister state (the Autonomous Republic of Nagorno-Karabakh) widespread government corruption on every level, etcetera—are all characteristic of the Middle East at large, as is the food, the music, the pace of life, even the predominant short-and-swarthy phenotype.

Nowadays pop culture reigns supreme and young Armenians are more likely to be scooping up haute fashion, hiphop, and camera phones than, say, dolling around on an oriental carpet. As I was in the dusty basement of Armenia’s first photo atelier, the man in charge, Aram, was showing me the stacks and bundles of love letters, daguerreotypes, and portraits. He told me during the wars, while all the men were in uniform, women traded everything from potatoes to hens for studio portraits. While helping my friend clear out the archives and outdated equipment, my curious hands touched and opened every wax envelope, revealing photographic gems of a country no longer, and a people transformed. www.armendanilian.com

An Afghani soldier riding a skateboard with his AK-47.

SKATEISTAN Interview Mohammad Dagman Photos Louisa Menke Louisa Menke was recently invited to visit Skateistan, a skateboarding school in Afghanistan, where she taught children—even young girls—how to skate. Skateistan is special because women’s rights are severely restricted in Afghanistan; keep in mind that the Taliban do not even want women attending school. Skateistan is also the subject of a new documentary film of the same name. Frank151 asked Louisa a few questions about her trip, and she shared some beautiful photos with us. Frank151: You and I are old friends, but would you please give us a brief explanation of who you are, what you do, and for whom you skate? Louisa Menke: My name is Louisa Menke and I’m half Dutch and half Algerian, but I grew up in Holland. I’ve lived in Barcelona for the last couple of years, and traveled around. I love to skate and I love to take photos. Right now I skate for Carhartt Clothing, Rockstar Bearings, and Etnies shoes.

F151: You went to Afghanistan as a participant in the documentary Skateistan. You asked me if I had any advice and I told you that you have to cover your head up, and the rest is up to where you’re going to be and with whom you’re going to associate on your trip. Can you tell us about your trip? LM: Well...it was definitely the craziest skate trip I’ve ever been on. There’s soldiers and people with guns

Louisa skating in Kabul, Afghanistan.

everywhere, and culturally it’s totally different than what I’m used to—men and women have different rules. As you were saying, I had to cover myself up every day —a headscarf, a shirt with long sleeves, and long pants. It was pretty hot. We skated with little Afghan boys and girls. I was trying to teach the little girls how to do a boneless. It was amazing…some of them had it! We did a demo at the Afghan Olympic Stadium and after that we ate watermelons with the Olympic president. He used to be a warlord, they said. We skated the craziest spots. We went to an old, destroyed palace called the Tajbeg Palace. It was guarded by a couple of Afghan soldiers, and they said it was alright for us to skate there. After a while it got crazy. The soldiers were trying to skate and we were helping them and holding their guns. My friend even did an ollie with an AK-47 around his neck. One day we went to an orphanage and skated with the orphans. This was amazing. Seeing these kids having so much fun with our skateboards was beautiful. I never saw something like that before. F151: You met Middle Eastern skaters on your trip and you taught some girls to skate in Afghanistan. Judging from the response you saw, do you think skating could be popular with girls in the Middle East? LM: Yes, I think so. These kids like it just as much as kids in America or Europe. It doesn’t matter where you’re from. The only difference is that you might not have the same freedom. www.skateistan.org

From left: Petite, Gili, Louise, Bruno, and Anna.

TERRY POISON Interview Synapse Photo Yaniv Edry

Striving to move into a sphere beyond their Tel Aviv roots, Israel’s Terry Poison have been taking their “ElectRock&Roll” sound to welcoming audiences all across Europe, and to the US as of late. Most of the members of Terry Poison have a rock and live-band background, but as a group, they take these influences into the electronic / electro / postpunk world, and thus create music that commands the listener: DANCE. Frank first greeted the band at one of their several CMJ showcases in New York City, and caught up with them later by phone to conduct this interview. If one thing is evident in what follows, it is that Terry Poison loves to party. Louise: Everybody’s here. We’re standing in the parking lot. We just had a sound check. We have this big gig tonight. So I will put you on speaker and everybody will gather up. We’re standing under a palm tree. Very exotic. Frank151: Where are you? L: We are in Tel Aviv. F151: Tell me who Terry Poison is. L: Terry Poison was founded in 2004. It was founded at the Art Academy in Jerusalem by me and another girl, and slowly, slowly it became the band it is now, which consists of me, the lead singer; another lead singer, Petite, she sings in French; Anna, she plays the guitar; Gili, she plays the synth guitar, keyboard, and vocoder; Issar, he plays drums; and Bruno, he plays on the synth bass and he’s also in charge of the musical production. All the people in the band are more or less a part of the song writing. F151: How did you guys get together? L: I was playing in this club with another girl and Bruno came along and saw the show, and he saw that, “This is very interesting, but it needs an upgrade in sound”—because it sounded like shit. But it had a lot of good energy and very good intentions. Let’s say it like that. Bruno was already, back then, working with Petite. They were already producing

like, one song. And then we all got together: me, Petite, Bruno, and this other girl who unfortunately left a year later, but that opened the door for Gili, the synth player, to enter. And from there we said, “We need more girls in this band,” because girls have much more fun together. So Anna came as a guitar player. We also wanted to upgrade our sound and make it more live, because before that the drums came from a computer. We said that we need to take out the computer and get another man in the band. So then we found Issar who is basically like a drum machine, so it’s not such a big difference from a computer. And at least you can climb on him in the middle of the show. F151: I want to ask what role Israel and Israeli culture play in your music. L: There’s a very strong party scene, especially in Tel Aviv. People just want to get wasted and rave away the night so they can forget the fuck that they have to go to the army the next day or things like that. The life here is not so easy, so it’s a very strong party scene. We get all the biggest-name DJs coming in, every week. I think that was my idea behind the band, because when there’s a DJ, there’s nothing to look at. You just look at the DJ. So I said, “Let’s make a band that you also can dance to, and dance with.” So this

Photo Ron Goskin

kind of feeling of, “Let’s just rave the night away—there’s no tomorrow”— you call it “escapism.” It’s very strong and I think it has a lot of influence on the band. Anna: Our music wouldn’t sound the way it sounds if we weren’t all living in this crazy city. It’s a platform for good art. You can fly really high—until you hit the wall and you have to go to America! I want to be in A-mer-i-ca! Gili: Because in Tel Aviv and Israel we have a very long beach, so there’s a strong beach culture. So that’s an influence—the heat and the bathing suits and the sexual tension in...the band. L: There is no sexual tension anymore in the band! I have to correct you! Musically, we all come from many different places in Israel. A: Yeah, the mix of people from different countries around the world,

because it’s the land of immigrants. L: There are Arabs here, Jews, Germans...a big variety of cultures mixed together, and it’s a very young country. F151: That leads me to my next question. Have you guys been influenced by traditional Israeli or Arabic music? Bruno: Since a lot of people that came to Israel came from the diaspora, like from Eastern Europe, Morocco, and some Arab countries, there is a mash up of Oriental music, which is more like influenced by the Middle East and Arab culture and also Western European type of music, which is very “Jewish” music, like klezmer and stuff like that. You have prayers that people sing in the synagogue. It’s all somehow getting mashed up into this Middle East party thing. L: One of our songs actually comes from this Jewish prayer that we sing

on the Passover. Obviously our music is influenced by international pop— whatever comes to mind—but I think we have a lot of this “A-minor”-style music in our influences. F151: Where have you traveled to play? L: We’ve been everywhere. Last trip before the States we were in St. Petersburg. It was amazing. We’ve been all over Europe: Germany, England, Finland, Norway, Sweden, Ireland, and Paris. We’ve been almost living in Paris for some time. And we were in a very cool party in Istanbul, which is actually our neighbor. We thought that this was so extraordinary because it’s still not a part of the European Union, so they’re still a bit left out, like Israel. We played there in this massive party, and they have such a cool scene there, and I really felt that there’s a connection, because there are so many things going on there and still they’re not a big part of the international music scene, a bit like Tel Aviv. It’s very cool to hook up with neighbors because we don’t have many places around where we can go perform. Nobody has ever invited us to Egypt or Syria or Lebanon. We can’t get in. Once we were invited to Bali, but Israeli citizens are not allowed to come play in Bali. That was a bummer. F151: What are you trying to achieve with your music? L: We want to make people move, because if you sit around, nothing’s going to happen to you. We sing a lot about things that happen to us in life, which is the usual shit: heart-broken. Not heart-broken. Waking up on a bench in the morning. Falling down from a tree. Stuff like that, you know?

[Inaudible comment from band member.] L: Masturbation?! There’s no song about masturbation! F151: [Laughs] What about a good tour story? L: Well we have a quite cool story. When we arrived to New York two weeks ago, we actually came for only one show, and we ended up playing six shows. We even had two shows one day, and this was quite extraordinary for a little band like us from the Middle East. It was just crazy. I don’t understand how you people in New York manage to do it. We were also in LA. It was really mad. The people we met there…so many inspiring people. We like it. You’re great people. You’re all very positive and you just also want to have fun, like us. F151: What does the future hold for Terry Poison? L: The future for Terry Poison is that there will be peace in the Middle East, first of all, and second of all, that Terry Poison will get to dance their way around the world and make the music get to the most people possible, because people must dance in order to be happy and forget their troubles. We’re just like many other musicians; we just want to get out there and be able to get to as much audience as possible. In Israel we’ve already managed to get as far as we could. We have two hits already running on the radio, and now we’re ready to hit new territories. G: We would like to collaborate with great artists that we love, like Daft Punk, Prodigy— L: Yes, we have big ambitions in this band. Let’s keep it to that. www.terrypoison.com

AL-SAFIR

NOAH

FARO

FARO + HAMDAN

HAMDAN

HASHISH

HUBB

NEW YORK SCRIBBLE Words and photos Mohammad Dagman Arabic graffiti appears here and there around New York City, and I have been documenting every piece I’ve seen for the last five years. AL-SAFIR I see some of his tags around, but not as many as HAMDAN. I saw AL-SAFIR more on trucks. You can tell from his handwriting that Arabic is his first language. FARO When FARO was writing, he was writing the Arabic translation of “pharaoh.” I have not seen anything new from FARO in the last three years, whereas before I would see new work all over. He wheat-pasted posters as well, which included the Arabic word for “night watchman.” I think that he is also behind the tag NOAH, since I heard that his real first name is Noah. He never wrote fat, filled in letters— something HAMDAN does.

HAMDAN HAMDAN’s tags were numerous. He did some with fat letters, which means that he knew something about Arabic calligraphy, and that Arabic is probably his native language. HAMDAN is a nickname for “Mohammad,” or it could be the tagger’s last name. HASHISH I have only seen HASHISH as a sticker and what appears to be a stencil, and only in few spots. The few pieces I saw all share the glitzy font the tagger uses to write the word “hashish.” HUBB I’ve only seen this one a few times. It means “love” in Arabic. It is very simple to write, and anyone could learn how to write it and start tagging it.

MAMOUN’S Interview Khaled Elsayed Since the day it appeared in New York City, Mamoun’s has been a crowd favorite. The City is packed with Middle Eastern food spots, but this hole in the wall is a cut above the rest. The taste is unique, and rumor has it the founder’s mother taught him how to cook over the phone. Nevertheless, her telecommunicated recipes proved potent—the near-constant line in front of the establishment is a testament to that. We spent a few minutes behind the counter speaking with current owner Nidal Chater while he was hard at work serving up falafel, shawarma, and other delicacies. Nidal Chater: Alright, here you go, boss. One falafel, one baba. Frank151: Start off by introducing yourself. NC: Hi, my name is Nidal Chater, and I’m Mamoun’s son. F151: Tell us about the history of Mamoun’s and how you guys ended up here in the West Village. NC: My dad actually ended up here. He was going to Columbia University, and when the money ran out, he decided he had to work. So he worked as an employee for a few months, and then he had a chance to buy this store. He bought the store, and the rest is, like they say, history. F151: Did he ever think it was going be what it is now? NC: Well, yeah. My dad always thinks he’s gonna be successful. Whatever you put into it is what you get. We put a lot into it. So the fact that it’s successful is no surprise. Alright. Two falafels to go….

F151: Why do you think falafel is popular in the City right now? NC: I don’t know. Basically, we sell a lot because they’re cheap and good. F151: How has the neighborhood changed from when you first opened to what it is now? NC: It’s basically the same. It’s almost the same. Nothing’s changed. The Village has been the same. Next. …Two falafels? To stay here, or to go? F151: So you guys are known for being open at like three...four in the morning, people rushing in when the clubs close, drunk. NC: Yeah. F151: Can you explain that situation? What does it look like? NC: Well, you gotta be here to experience it, really. I can’t explain it. Just drunken people that are hungry. But anyway, we know what we’re doing, so we know how to take care of that. Two falafels. That’s it? Five dollars.

Nidal Chater preparing shawarma.

Customer: I just waited like, 30 seconds. NC: Yeah, well…I’m sorry. The guys are kinda tired today. F151: As the first falafel spot in New York, how do you think Arab culture is blending into the City? NC: Yeah, I’ve seen it. It’s blending in. It’s just like any generation now. We’re dealing with a second generation, so I think we are apt to how American pop culture is. So…I don’t know what to say, but I guess we still have our Middle Eastern thing going. F151: Do you think falafel will be adopted as American in the next ten…15…20 years? NC: I hope so! I’m gonna try to do that. I’m gonna try and open a whole bunch of them in the next ten years and see how that goes. Yes? What will you guys have?

F151: Tell me about your other spots. I know you have one in New Haven. NC: Yeah, New Haven was opened in ’77, which is really Mamoun’s brother. Then I opened one up in the East Village about three years ago. F151: What’s in the future for Mamoun’s? What’s gonna happen next? NC: I don’t know. I’m thinking of opening up a few spots in Jersey, or franchising…I don’t know. I’m thinking about that now. F151: Did you think of combining a club with Mamoun’s, so that people could just— NC: Nah, nah, not really. No. I like to have the traditional environment here. What happens in the clubs, I don’t… [laughs]. www.mamouns.com

THE WORLD’S BIGGEST TRAVELING SALESMAN Words and photos Mohammad Dagman I played basketball for Hutteen Sports Club in Lattakia, Syria. After playing for several years, I made it to the Syrian National Team. My first trip with the team was to a tournament in Iran. It was not very eventful, but I still had a great time with my teammates and I got to tour a very interesting and important place. We played in the tournament, but we were missing our big man in the middle who stayed behind because of injury. Haytham Shariefeh was about seven feet, four inches tall, and originally played for al-Itihad in Aleppo. My roommate for that trip was Bashar Chawki, the feared center of al-Jaysh of Damascus. We became close friends. He was starting, since Haytham did not make it on the trip. Bashar and Haytham were rivals, and Bashar was vocal every time Haytham’s name was mentioned. One day Bashar told me that Haytham did not show up because there was no money to be made on the trip to Iran. He also said that Haytham was a “suitcase merchant, specializing in the nasty.” I never forgot that, and when we went on another big trip, it all finally made sense. We were going to travel to the Soviet Union in 1989 for a training camp before coming back for the “Arab Basketball Championship for Men” in

Damascus. Haytham kept asking me what I was taking with me to Moscow. I did not know what to say because I did not get it at the time. Haytham was planning what he would take to sell on the trip to the Soviet Union. I had heard stories about the astronomical prices of American-made jeans and other products in the Soviet Bloc, but I did not expect Haytham to be experienced in this international trade. But he made a breakdown of all the things that were desirable. He spoke about jeans and t-shirts and other clothing items. He said very little about what basketball was like in Moscow, even though he had played there many times before. Haytham was injured during the last days of the camp leading up to our trip to

#5 Mohammad Dagman, #11 Bashar Chawki, #15 Haytham Shariefeh

Moscow, but he still managed to convince the coaches that he needed to travel with the team. On the day of our departure, he came to me and asked me to help him carry a huge stack of overstuffed suitcases. The Olympic Hotel in Moscow was filled with Russians mingling with the international athletes, and there was a nightclub on every other floor! Haytham requested that he and I be roommates because I was carrying two of his many suitcases. I went to sleep right away after checking in, and dreamt about a man speaking Russian. After a while, the Russian was mixed with a broken English that I recognized as Haytham’s voice. I opened my eyes to see a man dressed in either a Russian police uniform or an army officer’s uniform. I closed my eyes and told myself that he was only a part of my dream, but the voices kept on coming and now included a female speaking in Russian. I opened my eyes and saw a huge female ass in front of my face. The woman took a pair of underwear from a bag Haytham had open in the middle of the room and tried them on. Haytham saw that I was awake and signaled for me to go back to sleep. The man in the uniform was standing by the door, and I finally understood that he was the husband of Haytham’s customer. For the next few days our room was a busy place. Russian women rushed in to buy Syrian-made lingerie. Syrian lingerie is world-famous, and Haytham made sure to bring the most risqué and the most outrageous. He, of course, did not play or practice with us during our stay in Moscow. He was busy buying Russian products

that would sell for high prices back in Syria. On our way back I found out that he had brought home about three suitcases of caviar. I knew better than to be his roommate on our next trip, to Kuwait. I roomed with Bashar and had a crazy time. We played a few basketball games here and there, with Haytham trying to stage a comeback after our poor outing in the “Arab Championship” following our trip to Moscow. Either way, Haytham wasn’t finished bringing me into strange situations. One day during a basketball trip, he came to my hotel room and asked me to translate a conversation he was having with two Americans who had come looking for him. The Americans, working in Kuwait at the time, had seen Haytham play on TV and thought that he looked like he could be Andre the Giant’s Middle Eastern son. They told Haytham that he would make a great character in the WWF, and explained how it would benefit him financially. Haytham, who was always afraid of being injured, told them that he would be interested if he had not been getting hurt so often. The Americans came back and tried to speak to us again, but Haytham did not feel it in his heart. I tried to make him daydream about being a famous wrestler—with me as his hypeman— but he did not buy it. When the Americans came one last time to hear his final word, Haytham told them that he couldn’t do it because of his commitments to travel with the National Team to Moscow again. Last I heard about Haytham was a few years ago. My brother ran into him on a visit to Dubai, where he was working as a bouncer at a nightclub.

WHERE NO MAN HAS GONE BEFORE Read & Download Frank Book Back Chapters Shop the Frankâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Chop Shop Online Store Search the City Guides for the Best Shops, Nightlife, & Events Around the Country View Exclusive Frank151 Photo & Video Content Download Music from FrankRadio Sign Up & Represent Your City

DOWNTOWN OASIS Photos Ellen Stagg Models Samera Abed, Ali Sultan Location Sultana NYC

Damascus Bread and Pastry.

ATLANTIC CONNECTION Words Nicole Velasco Photos Sir Frank

If all you know about New York’s Middle Eastern populace is a $3 falafel sandwich after a rowdy night out, then welcome to South Ferry, Kings County circa 1924—a time when New York was the epicenter of Arab culture outside of the Middle East. The scene was straight out of Damascus: waves of fresh pita wafted through the streets, churches filled with Syrian Christians, needlework trade shops adorned with lace and lingerie, one-stop grocery stores bursted with dried goods, and peddlers marched along Atlantic Avenue in the modern day nabes of Brooklyn Heights and Cobble Hill. In 1870, the first Syrian Christians arrived at Washington Street on the Lower West Side of Manhattan. Entrepreneurial by nature, these stalwart citizens created a fledgling but spirited Little Syria. By the turn of the century, they were successful bankers, publishers, and importers in search of a healthier and more spacious area to inhabit. The solution: a ride aboard the South Ferry, transporting Little Syria’s founding members to Brooklyn to live in the eponymous quad drawn from the East River to Boerum Place and from Joralemon down to Warren Street. By 1895, more than 30 Syrian families made their way to South Ferry as more immigrants arrived in the Big Apple. During the Golden Age of the 1920s1950s, South Ferry became a selfsufficient residential and commercial community. The flow of immigrants from other regions like Lebanon, Yemen, and Palestine diversified and enriched the Middle Eastern complexion of the area. South Ferry grew even more when the construction of the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel spurred the relocation of Manhattan’s Little Syria to Kings County. Those who could not afford lodging in an iconic Brooklyn brownstone lived on the Columbia Waterfront and along Atlantic Avenue, where rent was cheaper on the main commercial thoroughfare.

Over time affluence bloomed and the peculiarly Syrian occupation of peddling lost its appeal. Many community members opened up shops to meet the needs of the rapidly increasing Middle Eastern population. At 187 Atlantic Avenue, Charlie Sahadi knows a thing or two about what people need. “I listen to the customer,” said Mr. Charlie, nicknamed by his workers and the loyal patrons who pour into the shop every day except Sunday when this all-purpose gourmet shop takes a breather. The Sahadi family joined the New York grocery scene in 1895, when Charlie’s grand-uncle Abrahim established A. Sahadi & Company in Little Syria on Washington Street. Forty-six years later, Charlie’s father Wade opened his own shop next door. In 1941, Wade moved to Atlantic Avenue where Sahadi Importing Co. now stands as the holy grail of Lebanese foodstuffs: a wide variety of nuts, Middle Eastern cheeses, and even regional Lebanese olive oils abound for the delight of the discerning palate. Across the street is Malko Karkanni Brothers, a modest shop filled to the brim with large glass jars of dried fruit, copies of The Arab Times, a colorful array of hard-to-find canned goods, and an attractive selection of hookahs available for purchase. Powered by two brothers, Malko and Illya, the

store has served the Brooklyn community since 1917, when their grandfather moved his spice and sundry shop from Manhattan to Atlantic Avenue. “We moved to this very location in 1990, my brother and I,” said Illya Karkanni, leaning on a glass display case. Another main staple of the South Ferry community is Damascus Bread and Pastry, a delightful bakery that doles out its coveted pita bread a few storefronts away from Sahadi’s on Atlantic Avenue. “We’ve had this store since 1920,” said Tony Sadek. “My grandfather opened the store—starting in the basement. A couple of years later, he moved up to the first floor.” As more and more immigrants arrived, the demand for pita bread warranted a bigger space. “We moved to Court Street and then to DUMBO to work 24 hours. Here we only close on one day: New Year’s Day.” Although the food

selection has extended far beyond the precious pita, loyal customers have been flowing in and out of Damascus Bread and Pastry for years. “Everyone loves us, and we love everybody,” said Tony. A strong sense of community and admirable work ethic created an economic boom, sprouting new law offices, medical practices, publishing companies, and financial establishments. The increasing populace and the Middle Eastern affinity for commerce kept many families afloat during the struggle of the pre-war 1930s. In 1947, Arabic music enriched South Ferry when Albert Rashid moved his record shop to 191 Atlantic Avenue, the self-proclaimed oldest and largest purveyor of Arabic music in North America. Inspired by the allure of the soundtrack for the Egyptian film The

Oriental Pastry and Grocery.

White Rose, Albert began his career procuring recordings of Arabic music. Now located on nearby Court Street since the year 2000, Rashid Music Sales Co. has made a name for itself as the oasis of popular and hard-tofind recordings for Arabic music aficionados here and abroad. The simplicity of the shop recalls yesteryear with a checkerboard floor and black-andwhite stills of notable Middle Eastern musicians. DVDs of belly-dancing videos and older releases sit on shelves facing CDs in neat rows separated by name cards that read “Khaled,” “Om Kalsoum,” “Shereen.” The rise of South Ferry’s socioeconomic status resulted in the assimilation and growth of the Middle Eastern community outside of its Brooklyn confines. Atlantic Avenue became the hub for Middle Eastern shopping for New York and its New Jersey cousins. Rapid commercialization during the Golden Age called into question South Ferry’s status as an appropriate place to raise a family. From the 1950s to the late 1970s, South Ferry’s popularity spawned an urban-renewal attempt by real-estate sharks keen to transform many brownstones into cheap housing for the poor as well as more expensive dwellings for those who could afford them. “The neighborhood has changed. Many [Middle Eastern] people used to live in the area,” said Illya Karkanni. “My family now lives in Bay Ridge.” Other Middle Eastern families moved to Carroll Gardens, Boerum Hill, and Park Slope. Though its residential hold fell apart, South Ferry maintained its commercial integrity with the continuous flow of Middle Eastern immigrants. “My father moved from Syria in 1956 to open an import and export business,” said Gary Moustapha of Ori-

ental Pastry and Grocery, next door to Malko Karkanni Brothers. “We’ve been in this location here on Atlantic since 1967.” The shop recalls another time and place, with artful stacks and strategic piles of goods. White barrels of olives marinade in their juices next to row upon row of burlap-lined cardboard boxes filled with nuts. There are no fancy displays needed for the dried jewels of fruit overflowing in bins across the narrow aisle that runs down the middle of the store. Dried veggies like okra are strung up for purchasing convenience, just as it is done in Syria. On the walls are shelves full of flavored tobacco and boxed delights. To the untrained eye, the store’s authentic design looks haphazard, yet an inquisitive customer offers Moustapha an opportunity to show that everything has its place. “If you want coffee, I’ll give you the coffee. But you should have it with some cardamom,” said Moustapha, pointing to the bins of aromatic Arabian beans, then turning to the small containers of herbs on a nearby wooden shelf. “Since the Middle Eastern community shrank, we are ambassadors here to teach everyone about the culture. I have to know every item and process, every use and derivation. I educate the client since we see more foreigners than our kind of people.” The 1980s were the last time that Syrian, Palestinian, Yemeni, and Lebanese people really populated the once-named South Ferry area. The cost of living in Brooklyn Heights and Cobble Hill brought new faces and appreciative brownstoners who supported the culture by way of the cuisine. “We always see new people since the community has changed. Business is still the same,” remarked Umm al-Abd through a translator. The 70-something firecracker and partner

Umm al-Abd preparing kebbeh at Waterfalls.

Rashid Music Sales Co.

of Waterfalls Café does not speak English. A neighborhood favorite for over ten years, Waterfalls’ main customers are Americans who appreciate authentic dishes like kebbeh, hummus, babaghanouj, tabouleh, and stuffed grape leaves—which Umm al-Abd painstakingly prepares by snipping off the hard stem of the leaf to keep the dish easy to digest. “She’s one of the only Middle Eastern women you’ll find working in any of the kitchens here,” said Mohammad, coowner of Waterfalls Café and former head chef at Zaytoons. While most Middle Eastern women typically do not work, Umm al-Abd has procured her culinary talents since age seven, making loyal customers with every dish. “The secret is the person himself, because if the person has a good soul, people will like to eat his food,” she reasoned. “The food of the miser is illness. If you give something to me, but do so grudgingly, I won’t like it. If you give me something willingly, I will enjoy it.”

This cultural meme of giving and service pervades the Middle Eastern shops of Atlantic Avenue. “Our goal is to serve all people the same,” said Gary Moustapha at Oriental. In these economic times when everything is about the hustle, it is refreshing to hear these business owners infuse cultural values into their daily lives. “I love to make whatever you want on the menu,” said Umm al-Abd. “You just tell me what you want—one... two...three...four dishes—and I’ll make it for you.” Such sentiments make for a heart-warming experience in any of these thriving Atlantic Avenue shops. Though the neighborhood has changed (cue higher rent prices, gargantuan grocery chains, and the ubiquitous Urban Outfitters), the essence of South Ferry remains the same: charming, family-oriented, compassionate, and real. “Everything is the same,” said Tony Sadek. “We keep up the beautiful culture.”

FROM BIKINI TO BURQINI Words Rana Good Images courtesy of ahiida.com A menagerie of characters adorns a crowded beach in Hurghada, Egypt. A lithe Ukrainian wearing a thong bikini hailing from what looks like the 1980s confidently strides across the desert sand. A young Egyptian woman wearing a very conservative one-piece makes her way into the waves. But what catches everyone’s eye is the woman showing the least amount of skin—like an anonymous shadow, she traipses into the water wearing a burqini. That’s right. A burqa bathing suit. It covers virtually every inch of her body and most of her head. I had seen many women wearing burqinis during my past trips to the Middle East, but it never ceased to pique my interest. Like so many Western women, I wondered, “Isn’t she warm?” and, “Isn’t that uncomfortable?” Since there is no definitive consensus on what exactly a Muslim woman is supposed to wear, Islamic fashion runs the gamut from more Westernstyle clothing in countries like Lebanon and Turkey to mandatory burqas in Afghanistan. The concept of being clothed from head to toe at all times is baffling to many Westerners and Muslims alike. However, many Muslim women do choose to wear clothes that conceal most of their body. Fourteen-year-old Maryam Henson takes pride in her modesty. Maryam and her younger sisters are all wearing long, cape-like veils called khimars, and you can only see their faces. She admits that sometimes she gets hot

wearing so many layers in the summer. “Then I just go and stand by an AC and I feel a lot better,” she laughs. She attends a private Muslim school but says that she would dress the same if she attended public school. She adds that her friends in public school wear uniforms and that what she is wearing is her uniform. She is aware that the way she dresses comes with the baggage of stereotypes. “Sometimes people come up to me and ask me if I am bald. It’s really embarrassing. I have nice hair, it’s just covered up.” Siddharta Malone also knows a little bit about fitting in and its difficulties. In his eyes many people succumb to peer pressure and forget about the tenets of Islam to assimilate. He sees young Muslim-American women dressing like their non-Muslim peers but thinks that if you need to change how you look, you are not hanging out with the right group of people. “Either you spend time with other Muslims or you hang out with people who accept you for you are,” he says.

Attar, who owns a perfume store in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, says that dressing modestly is in a woman’s best interest. “A woman should go unnoticed on the street. In the West there is so much effort placed on showing as much as possible. I think I should not be able to know what any given woman’s body looks like. Otherwise she draws attention to herself and gets remarks from men.” In Iran, store owners are even prohibited from dressing mannequins in “un-Islamic” clothing that showcases female curves or neglects to cover the head, while Sudanese journalist Lubna al-Hussein faced a sentence of 40 lashes for wearing too-tight pants. Not everyone agrees that the Koran stipulates the complete coverage of the female body. Verses 30-31 in the Surah state that women should not “display their ornaments” to anyone but their husbands or direct relatives. It calls for women to cover their bosoms with their veils, although one could argue whether this implies that the head needs to be covered as well. Around the men in her family, a woman can dress however she pleases, but on the street she should not even so much as wear perfume or make up, so as not to attract the gazes of men. Conversely, backlash against this stricter dress code is also gaining more support. To many, the act of covering up symbolizes the oppression of women. In France, home of the largest Muslim population in Europe, Urban Regeneration Minister Fadela Amara says that the burqa “represents not a piece of fabric but the political manipulation of a religion that enslaves women and disputes the principle of equality between men and women.”

Samara is Egyptian but never wears a headscarf unless she is traveling to countries like Saudi Arabia, where she has no choice but to cover up. Growing up in Egypt in an affluent family, Samara embraced a more worldly approach to her attire. She says that family plays a large role in the way a Muslim woman decides to dress. While many believe that men dictate what Muslim women wear, Samara believes that women themselves place a lot of pressure on each other. “You don’t want to be the one that’s covered up while other women are looking beautiful, showing their hair and wearing nice clothes. You’ll encourage others to cover up, ask them for support, when really you just don’t want the competition.” In recent years Samara has seen Egypt grow more religiously conservative, particularly Egypt’s workingclass citizens. This has influenced how women dress, but she thinks this movement may only be temporary. She cites her grandmother as an example. She never wore a headscarf during adolescence, only to end up wearing one in her later life. In a time where Muslim dress is increasingly polarized—one side arguing that a woman who does not cover herself from head to toes is not virtuous, while the other side decries covering up as a form of social imprisonment—a resolution may not be easy to achieve. Perhaps consensus is not even necessary. A woman should be able to wear whatever she wants, whether it be a bikini or a burqini.

Photo Laith Al-Majali

Rush and E-Money of Arabian Knightz.

DESERT POETS Words Karim Adel Photos Ridwan Adhami, Laith Al-Majali It’s hard to say when and where it started in Arabia, or who really started it. There’s been a hip-hop following in Arabia since my teenage years in Oman, in the Arabian Gulf. I remember people used to sport “Murder Was The Case” Snoop Dogg shirts back in the mid-’90s, probably purchased on a US or European summer trip. I remember middle school with my Omani and Lebanese friends, chanting, “Cash rules everything around me!” during lunch breaks, and throwing “W” hand signs. Whether we meant “Wu-Tang” or “West Coast,” we weren’t in a position to represent either! Later on in the ’90s I started hearing about Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia having rapidly growing hip-hop scenes. It started with the Moroccans and Algerians who lived in Europe (especially France) and traveled back with them to their homelands. It’s also worth mentioning that popular groups in France, such as Saian Supa Crew and IAM, had Arabic members. Shortly after that, occupied Palestine caught up on hip-hop, and found it a suitable form of music to express their anger and sorrow and desire to rebel against the oppression they have been facing for decades. If media, art, and music are ignoring your struggle and pain, why not express it yourself? If I am to mention whom out of Palestine first made an impact on me, it has to be DAM (Da Arab MCs). The threeman group has been doing shows all over the world and releasing independent albums since the mid-’90s, and has created a huge name in Palestine

and among Arabs all around the world. They have been blessed to perform all across Europe and the US, and have been talked about so much by US (and even Israeli) media. Yet Arabic media has ignored them all these years! Not far across the border, we heard a very talented DJ in Lebanon who called himself Lethal Skillz. Lethal Skillz had been DJing a lot of underground hip-hop parties and supporting new acts such as Aks El Seir, appearing in their low budget yet creative video shot in the mid-’90s, in the midst of a not very accepting environment. Fast forward to 2006, and Lethal Skillz made a lot of news and created a huge buzz, leaking songs online with his newly formed group, 961 Underground, which included Englishlanguage rappers such as Omarz and MC Moe; others who rap in French, such as female rapper La Gale (now based in Switzerland); and still others rapping in Arabic, such as RGB and

female MC, Malikah. It wasn’t long till Lethal Skillz released an album, New World Disorder, featuring most of those 961 talents, as well as other MCs from Palestine and Syria. Now let’s flash back a little bit to Egypt. Hip-hop had been creating a small buzz among DJs and club goers in the ’90s, and a huge b-boy scene emerged around that time. But it wasn’t until 2004 that an actual hiphop event took place. At my own risk, I flew RZA of Wu-Tang over from Italy during his tour to throw him a show in Giza, Cairo, in Siag Hotel—as close as we were able to get to the pyramids. RZA came with Kinetic of Killarmy and Cilvaringz (who’s Moroccan-Dutch and was the first Arab to get signed by an American rap group), as well as Moroccan rapper Salah Edin. Salah must have been the best Arabic rapper I had met at that time, and was really using a lot of traditional Arabic instruments on his songs, and sampled some very well-known Arabic classics on his beats, which enabled him to steal the attention in Cairo. During that time I was rapping in an independent group I had formed called MSE (Madd Skillz Empire). It consisted of mostly non-Arabs that live in Cairo, and three other Egyptians. We were recording songs at home, printing them ourselves, and selling them in private schools and out of a backpack in clubs. The only hip-hop I heard in Egypt at that point, other than us, was MTM, Asfalt, and Y Crew (from Alexandria). In 2006 I ran into E-Money (who was then in Asfalt) and Sphinx (who was visiting Egypt from LA). We got into a cipher outside the club and, two weeks later, formed Arabian Knightz. At that point in time MySpace was

100

making it really big so we decided to dedicate a few months to record and leak some songs and add friends and see what the feedback would be like. And indeed the feedback was insane! We approached 100,000 track views before we even had a single show or a plan of what to do with the group! A few online contacts went back and forth and soon we were talking to legendary LA producer Fredwreck (originally Palestinian) who hadn’t heard any Arabic rap prior to us, other than DAM. He was excited to fly over to Cairo and start working on our album. We had no budget to spend days and days in the studio, so we laid the first single, “Fokkak,” in the studio the same day that he made the beat. We had one day to shoot the video, and boom! A few months later it was all over Arabic TV and radio. It was the first Arabic rap song to reach the number-four position in the Arabic top ten a few months in a row! Fred’s saga in Arabia didn’t end at that point. After laying six beats for Arabian Knightz and going back to LA for a few months, he was contacted by some people from MTV Arabia. Fast forward a few months, Fredwreck is shooting a pilot for the new MTV Arabia reality hip-hop show Hip-hopNa with his Saudi Arabian cohost, Qusai, in Dubai. Arabian Knightz signed a deal, but we had to break out of it a year and a half later and go independent because it was the most unfruitful part of our career. It may mean a lower budget, but at the same time, we can’t leave the destiny of Arabic hip-hop in someone else’s hands, now can we? What follows is a short list of Arabic rappers who are making good music and big noise in the Middle East and beyond.

Photo Laith Al-Majali

What’s your name? Karim AKA A-Rush, Hossam el Hossainy AKA Ghetto Pharaoh, Ehab AKA E-Money, and Hesham AKA Sphinx. Together we are Arabian Knightz. Where do you guys live? Cairo, Egypt. How do people in your country feel about hip-hop? They started off really not tolerating it. To them, rapping patterns are too fast. They’re used to love songs and singing. They also thought it was an attempt to copy a US form of music, which it kind of is. But the more they heard it, the more they discovered we do it different—our language is used differently and sounds more poetic in rhyme form. Who are your favorite rappers? Biggie, 2Pac, Jay-Z, Tech N9ne, Kool

G Rap, Mos Def, Rakim, Wu-Tang, just to name a few. But these cats definitely inspire us. Do you sample or rap over traditional Arabic music? Yes, we do that a lot. What projects are you working on right now? We’re wrapping up the debut Arabian Knightz album. We got beats from Fredwreck and Wu-Tang’s 4th Disciple, as well as Arab composers like El Amrani (Morocco), Fahd (Egypt), and Jamil (Palestine). We’re also gonna start working on a mixtape and an album with a bigger group we formed called Arab League, which is Arabian Knightz, MC Amin, Shadia, Malikah, Qusai, Fredwreck, DAM, and others from all over Arabia. It’s hot up here! www.myspace.com/arabianknightz

101

What’s your name? Big Pete AKA Big Beat. Where were you born? Los Angeles. First-generation EgyptianAmerican. How did you get into hip-hop? I always was a fan of hip-hop, ever since I was a lil’ shorty. Being from LA, on the scene, in the mix bodyguarding some of the game’s biggest artists, and being able to flip my favorite lyrics into Arabic. I found my talent freestylin’ in Arabic and my calling to be the hardest Arabic West Coast rapper! What are your lyrics about? Our life as first-generation Egyptians in a gang-banging, drug-dealin’ environment like killa Cali, and being America’s new niggas. It’s not easy being an Arab-American, and what we have to do to fit in and survive out

102

here. We all ain’t doctors and lawyers and gas-station owners. Some of us are hustlers. You know what it is! Do you sample or rap over traditional Arabic music? Yeah, I love the older Arabic sound. It’s just so natural, and when you add a bass line…Uhh wee! You got a hit on your hands! Just ask Timbaland and Jay-Z about “Big Pimpin’.” I bet they don’t even know they got that from us. What projects are you working on right now? My album and more mixtapes, Freestyles of the Future Pharaoh, and I am getting my label off the ground: MAZAGMUSIC. Find me on MySpace.

What’s your name? Ihsan Cammoun AKA Da Sole. Where do you live? Tunisia. How did you get into hip-hop? I fell in love with hip-hop when I heard that classic verse from Heavy D on Michael Jackson’s “Jam”! I started to look for hip-hop tapes in every shop! I was fond of listening to 2Pac even though I didn’t know what the words meant, but I was nodding my head to the beats like crazy! I started writing my own lyrics in 1999 and I got to learn how to flow on other American MC’s beats ’til I met fellow rappers and break dancers from my city. Who’s your favorite rapper? Mos Def, Common, Talib Kweli, Tariq from The Roots.

What are your lyrics about? Reality! I write about whatever affects my mind positively and negatively, from hip-hop identity to politics, from egotripping to depicting my folks’ lives. How do people in your country feel about hip-hop? Some love hip-hop! Most of them are young people with a lot of potential, but yet are neglected. But some others do not even consider it art, unfortunately! Do you sample traditional Arabic music? Yep! I used samples from Majida Roumi, Julia Botros, Fairuz. www.myspace.com/afrockband

103

What’s your name? Eslam Jawaad. Where were you born? Damascus, Syria. Where do you live now? London, UK. How did you get into hip-hop? I used to call NWA’s manager, Jerry Heller, on the phone when I was 13. I was a big fan of NWA and was always trying to get to talk to Easy or Cube. He asked me if I rapped, so I said “Yes” and started to freestyle on the phone. He told me to keep it up, so I did. Seems bizarre, right? It’s not, really. Straight Outta Compton CD cover. It’s in there. Back then he used to answer the phone at the office.

What are your lyrics about? There’s definitely a political edge to a lot of it, a social and spiritual edge as well. A lot of it is just stories I’ve lived through. Do you sample traditional Arabic music? I used to, but now it’s the other way around. I work with full Arab orchestras and producers and then take it to a hip-hop producer to mess with the bass and drums a bit, but the base of the music is Arabic right now. What are you working on now? My Arabic album, a full Arab-language body of work. It will feature contemporary names in the Arab music world and will be produced by Jean Marie Riachi, one of the top cats right now. www.myspace.com/eslamjawaad

104

What’s your name? Ahmad Amin AKA MC Amin AKA the General. Where do you live? Mansoura City, Egypt. How did you get into hip-hop? I started when I heard Western music and I felt that it was still touching me. I started memorizing some of the rap lyrics I heard and reciting them while I was amongst my friends till I decided to try doing it myself in my mother tongue. Who is your favorite rapper? 2Pac. What are your lyrics about? I represent my city, and I represent the Egyptian mentality in everything that happens in our reality here with the common, average Egyptian people

specifically, or generally with the Arab community. How do people in your country feel about hip-hop? At first no one really felt it or related to it or understood what it was. But the more Arabic rap songs they heard, the more they started to understand, and the whole scene here started growing. A lot of people are starting to attempt to rap at home as well. It’s very common now amongst teens in Egypt—not just as fans and listeners. Do you like traditional Arabic music? Of course I like it, especially old-school Arabic music from the ’70s and ’80s, because they used more traditional Arabic instruments than they do now. www.myspace.com/mcaminmusic

105

Photo Laith Al-Majali

What’s your name? Yassin. My artist name is the Narcicyst AKA Jamal Abdul AKA Illuminarcy. Where were you born? I was born in the Emirate of Dubai. Where do you live now? I currently reside on the island of Montreal, Quebec, Canada. How did you get into hip-hop? It started by looping the ending of instrumentals to make them long enough to rap to. Then we started recording that stuff. It naturally progressed into the studio and songs. Then albums. And the rest is going to be history one day. Who is your favorite rapper? Mos Def meets Black Thought meets Nas.

106

What are your lyrics about? Life. Arabs. Moments. Love. Hate. Relationships. Politics. People. People and their politics. Injustice. Experience. Hip-hop. Do you like traditional Arabic music? Who do you listen to? Um Kulthum, Fairuz, Mohd Abdel Wahab, Abdel Halim Hafez, Muthaffar Al-Nawab. Everyone! Do you sample traditional Arabic music? Of course. In our early days, when I was in a crew called Euphrates, I would want to rhyme over everyone’s catalog. We’ve flipped beats out of every famous Arab artist already! Arabs in handcuffs stand up. www.iraqisthebomb.com

Photo Ridwan Adhami / ridzdesign.com

What’s your name? Shadia Mansour. Where do you live? In a world of injustice, oppression, and hunger. How did you get into hip-hop? Joined forces with one of the first Arabic hip-hop groups, Arap, through a fellow Syrian/Lebanese brother and artist, Eslam Jawaad. Who’s your favorite rapper? I have a few favorites—KRS One, Rakim, and Lauryn Hill are among them. How do people in your country feel about hip-hop? It has been a long and winding road in trying to change the mentality and misconception people have about hip-hop in general, thanks to certain

major record labels who played a big role in painting a deluded picture of what hip-hop really represents. However, hip-hop in Palestine (in my eyes) was a rebirth of freedom, expression, and resistance. It is accepted as the most powerful and effective tool in getting the message across to the masses—to the places in the world that lack the correct knowledge of the history of our people. What are your lyrics about? Humanity. Do you like traditional Arabic music? Who do you listen to? Asmahan, Farid el Atrash, Fairuz, Adbel Halim Hafez, and many others. www.shadiamansour.com

107

What’s your name? Taoufik Hazeb AKA Don Bigg. Where do you live? Casablanca City, Morocco. How did you get into hip-hop? As a fan, then as an amateur, and now as a professional rap artist. Who’s your favorite rapper? The one who does his job correctly and sells a lot. What are your lyrics about? Politics, street, rap game, ego trip, bling, poverty, everything I am about. How do people in your country feel about hip-hop? Let’s say it has become the most recognized movement in Morocco.

108

Do you sample or rap over traditional Arabic music? Nope. Do you like traditional Arabic music? Not that much. What projects are you working on right now? I’m working on my second album which I’m gonna record in LA, shooting videos, working on a national radio hip-hop show as a host, and a clothing collection. www.myspace.com/donbigg

THE TALE OF

3 MOHAMMADS

“A UNIQUE AND IMPORTANT FILM.” - SPIKE LEE WWW.3MOHAMMADS.COM SLINGSHOT FILMS PRESENTS A FILM BY NASRI ZACHARIA

110

QUEENS OF HEARTS Words Mohammad Dagman The Middle East has long suffered intense violence. This may explain why music reigns supreme—an effort to rise above a hostile environment. These three legendary female singers are a must when discussing voices of the Middle East. From time to time their lyrics touched on politics, but they mainly sang of life’s other issues. Fairuz (1935- ) is the most famous and most important living Arabic singer, male or female. She is considered the reining queen of Arabic music and is often called “Ambassador to the Stars.” Fairuz was born Nihad Haddad. She later changed her name to Fairuz, which is the Arabic word for a type of precious stone. She was born in 1935 in Jabal al-Arz, Lebanon, to a Syrian-Catholic family. She later moved with her family to Beirut, where she has been based ever since. Fairuz first sang to the music of her husband, Asi al-Rahbani, and his brother, Mansur, and later mostly to the music of her son, the famous playwright Ziad al-Rahbani. Plays are one of the main media through which her voice can be heard. These plays travel readily throughout the Arab world and have never been banned anywhere.

Umm Kalthum (1904-1975) is referred to as Kawkab al-Sharq and Sayyidat al-Ghina al-Arabi in the Arab world. The first means “The Star of the East” and the second, “The Mistress of Arabic Song.” No other man or woman has yet reached her fame and status within the Arabic music world. Umm Kalthum was born in the Egyptian countryside in 1904, later moving to Cairo, where she started her career as a professional singer and actress. She was a skilled businesswoman who assembled and managed her own band. She sang both famous lyrics of the past and exceptional material she wrote herself. Writers fell in love with her, drafting songs that she sang to immortality. Her scores were written by the most notable musical artists of the time. Bought by the millions, most of her records are live, and a typical Umm Kalthum recording will

111

112

Umm Kalthum.

Asmahan.

last 40 to 50 minutes! Her songs start with long musical introductions that are considered gems of 20th century Arabic music. Today, you will still hear her voice throughout the Arab world. She died in 1975, and millions attended her funeral. Asmahan (1918-1944) was born Amal al-Atrash, a relative of Sultan Basha al-Atrash, the leader of the Grand Syrian Revolution (1925-27). When the French bombed Asmahan’s home in Jabal al-Arab in southern Syria, young Amal escaped to Cairo with her mother and two brothers. One of these brothers, Farid al-Atrash, was also a legendary singer and musician. In Cairo, the family changed their name to avoid being recognized. The young Amal attended music school where she studied voice. At 16 she was singing at Cairo’s opera, and posing the first real threat to Umm

Kalthum’s throne. By this time, she signed a record contract with Columbia and changed her name to Asmahan, after a famed Persian singer. She became very famous and returned to Syria to marry a prince from the alAtrash family. She later divorced him to marry an Egyptian film director, whom she divorced to remarry the prince, only to divorce him a second time to marry another film director, whom she also eventually divorced. Romance (or a lack thereof) was not the only point of intrigue in Asmahan’s life. During World War II, she assumed several roles that ended with her dying in a suspicious accident in Egypt in 1944. She was 26 years old. Some blamed the Nazis, while others blamed the British, as it is believed she was working with the intelligence services of both sides.

113

King Abd al-Aziz sits lower left.

YOUNG ROYALS Words Mohammad Dagman Of the many royal families that have existed in the Middle East, only a relative few have survived as long and accomplished as much as the Saudi family, who first established a state in 1744. In 1818, however, they were forced to surrender their capital al-Dar’iyah in a war with the Turks, who sent Mohammad Ali, then-ruler of Egypt, against them. But these years of misfortune changed with the second generation of the Saudi family. The epic journey of King Abd al-Aziz and his kin made Saudi Arabia the rich and powerful country it is today.

The Founding King King Abd al-Aziz ibn Abd al-Rahman al Saud (1876-1953) was a man with a piercing look who stood well above two meters tall. At a young age he escaped with his family to one of the harshest, most hostile places in the world: the Empty Quarter. It would not be the last time in his tumultuous life that he would find refuge in that desert. In 1901, raiding enemy lines with only a handful of men, he was defeated and forced into the Empty Quarter again to endure another test of survival. King Abd al-Aziz finally succeeded in changing history when, with only 20 men, he took over the palace

of al-Riyadh’s ruler. From that base he went on to establish the kingdom that bares the name of his family. Without this man and his prowess, modern Saudi Arabia would not exist. The Builder King Faisal ibn Abd Aziz (1904-1975) was the first Foreign Minister when the Saudi state was formed in 1932. From a very young age he was his father’s envoy to the world, where he learned world politics and its intrigues. He became king in 1964 and ruled until he was assassinated by a member of his own family in 1975. The US-educated assassin was avenging the murder of

117

King Faisal.

yet another relative—a conservative one—who died protesting the opening of (then-Prime Minister) Faisal’s radio and TV station. King Faisal was considered the most auspicious leader in the Arab world at the time of his death, especially because he used oil as a weapon for political gain. His reputation in the Arab world rose greatly when he forced an oil embargo on the

118

West in protest of their policies during the 1973 Arab-Israeli war. He has the reputation of being a builder, a reformer, and a modernizer. Beginning with Faisal’s radio and TV station in 1965, many such projects followed in the conservative kingdom. Most of the kingdom’s administrative systems were built during his reign.

Current king Abd Allah as a young prince.

The King King Abd Allah ibn Abd al-Aziz (1924- ) is the current ruler of Saudi Arabia. He was first appointed to head the National Guard by older brother Faisal in 1962, making him an important figure in the support of King Faisal’s reforms. Abd Allah rose up in stature throughout the 1960s and ’70s. In 1982 he was appointed Crown Prince, and de facto ruler in 1996 when thenKing and brother Fahd fell severely ill. Abd Allah was officially made king in 2005, when King Fahd passed away. Today, whether you like the policies of Saudi Arabia or not, King Abd Allah leads a thriving nation through its new

renaissance. Under King Abd Allah, Saudi Arabian youth are making their mark in the Middle East, female Saudi writers are publishing bestsellers, and Saudi drama rivals that of Syria and Egypt, which have always been considered the finest in that field. Current music and art trends from the Kingdom are extremely entertaining, as well. Still, it plays a leading role in the Islamic world, as some of the world’s holiest shrines are located there. Saudi Arabia deserves more credit for shaping Middle Eastern life than it often receives, because a rich cultural presence is growing beneath its conservative veil.

119

120

GHADA AMER Interview Maureen Mahony, Mohammad Dagman Images Ghada Amer Ghada Amer is a contemporary artist whose medium of choice is embroidery on canvas. To describe a typical artwork, we spy a pattern of figures—mostly women in erotic moments—unfolding betwixt and between abstract webs of colorful thread. She was born in Cairo in 1963, and studied art in Nice, Boston, and Paris before settling in New York City. We spent an afternoon with her over tea and Egyptian biscuits at her Harlem studio, talking about her journey with art. Mohammad Dagman: It’s funny that all the Arabic newspapers are obsessed with new artists—especially someone of your stature. And I don’t think any other Arabic female artists have had a Brooklyn Museum retrospective. Yet Arabic newspapers do not follow you at all. Ghada Amer: Maybe Mona Hatoum had a retro. She’s a very important artist. MD: Why do you think the Arabic media has not picked up on you yet? GA: Because I speak about sexuality, and you cannot speak about sexuality in the Arabic language. We do not speak about it. Period. Other than romance, we do not talk about love. It does not have another connotation. You know I did have a show in Egypt, even before I had one in Israel, in 1998. They like to say I had a show in Israel first. Not true. In Egypt, I had a show in a private gallery. Not in a museum— like the one I had in Israel. Someone wanted me to do a show in 1994, which I thought was totally crazy because it

was the height of bombing and fighting there. A lot of fighting was going on then. I was younger and scared. I showed a lot of sexual images. The works from the 1998 show went into galleries there. We even made a special price for Egyptians, but they didn’t buy. Only foreigners bought my works from those shows. I didn’t get any Arabic press at all, only lots of positive press from English newspapers published there. Do you know Nuss al-Dunya? It is a publication like Elle. It translates as “The Half of the World.” It’s supposed to be more feminist—involved with women’s issues—and a writer came to talk with me about the show and said then that she could not speak about sexuality and could not write about feminism. MD: My question is, why do you put Koranic references in your artwork, while your artwork features erotic figures of women? GA: I did one piece with a Koranic

121

122

Lucy and the Clouds RFGA, 2007 (detail).

123

Snow Whiteâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Stepmothers, 2005.

124

reference. It’s called “Private Rooms.” It was in French, and never used Arabic language, and that was deliberate. But some people tend to mix it up. They write that I use Koranic references within the erotic. I have never done this. I read from one piece called Encyclopedia of Pleasure (Dunnya al-Ludhdha). This book is from the 14th century, I think. It starts like this: [Translated from Arabic] “This book teaches you how to be a good Muslim, and in order to be a good Muslim, you have to be a good human being, and in order to be a good human being, you have to be a good sexual being.” It is not something horrible or pornographic. It explains sexuality— who is attracted to whom. It’s a very funny piece with lots of poetry. In it, sexuality is not at all something horrible or bad. Of course, this book is forbidden now. MD: There are many books like this. I read about the Khalifa himself as a sexual superhero, jumping over walls, sleeping with many women…. GA: Yes, yes, the Khalifa himself asked knowledgeable people to express that sexuality was an important matter to discuss and write about. Maureen Mahony: Do you think it would be helpful for younger Arab girls searching out their own sexuality to look at your work and learn from the freedom that you’ve been able to find? GA: My work is not only [about sexuality] for the Arab world, because even here and in America—you would be surprised—there are a lot of people with sexual problems. MM: Probably more so. GA: No, it is the same. Even here in America, my work has been in exhibitions where they have put warnings. I can show you. The entrance to one of my exhibitions, there is a warn-

ing: “Contains questionable content. Enter at your own risk” kind of thing. In Singapore one of the shows I did with Reza was R-rated. And here in the Whitney Museum, there was a piece they couldn’t show. And this is very funny. I am sure they couldn’t show it [in Egypt] because it is speaking of pleasure. Because even though nobody can write about sexuality, all the old writing about sexuality is still readable. It is not as taboo as the image. The image is really where there is a problem. So when speaking of pleasure where there is all these excerpts on sexual content in writing—where people can read it—they wanted to put it in the space on 42nd street. The committee there disallowed it because it was on public display. They couldn’t put the warning on it because the gallery is an open glass to the public. So, there you go. Talking about censorship…also, this happens with the press. When they wanted to reproduce an image in an article, I would have to show the artwork where the sexual content was hidden—“Give us an image where the images are obscured by thread,” or if it is upside-down. Yes, in the American press they do that. America and the Middle East are very similar in terms of sexuality. Here, a little bit more free. But at the end, there are problems in both. You can see, eh? I don’t want to be seen as giving lesson to the Middle East. I am not giving lessons to anyone. It is my experience. I am telling my story. I am really basically like a writer who is writing a diary. I cannot write, so I am painting it. People can “read” it and they have to take it, or if it is something they don’t really understand, they don’t get touched. Others, if it touches them, they get invigorated.

125

TAJI AMEEN Interview Adam Pasulka Photos Eric Staniford Taji Ameen grew up skating and hanging out with the likes of the legend Harold Hunter. He still skates with old guards like Billy Rohan and Dustin Charlton, but he’s building strong bonds with young riders, too. We spoke to Taji about his passion for both skating and photography. Frank151: Why don’t you start out by introducing yourself. Taji Ameen: Okay. My Name is Taji Ameen, and I’m 19, and I live in New York City. F151: Where were you born? TA: I was born In New York City. In Manhattan. F151: How long have you been skating? TA: I’ve been skating for a while… probably about ten years, going on 11. F151: How’d you get into it? TA: I went to school downtown, over by Chambers street, and there were always skaters in front of my school. There was a ledge spot. It was in a lot of old videos like Peep This, Heads— the old Zoo York videos, so I used to see them at my lunch break while I was in the yard playing with all the kids. It looked super fun, so I got into it. F151: How do you think skating in the City has changed in the last ten years?

TA: It’s significantly changed, ’cause it used to be a lot more relaxed. Everyone would always just have a good time—like go spot to spot. There weren’t too many worries. But nowadays, there’s so many spots they either put skate-stoppers on, or tear down, or kick you out…get tickets and stuff like that. It’s more uptight, especially after September 11 and all that. It didn’t do a good thing for skating. It’s hard to do in the streets nowadays. F151: Would you say a lot more people are skating now than ten years ago? TA: Oh yeah, that too, which also is kinda hectic, ’cause you’ll go to some of the spots, the skate parks, and they’ll be packed. All these kids just getting into it, not really knowing what they’re doing, getting in the way. Like with Pharrell…all that, you know? Like the streetwear movement or whatever. Skating got all wrapped up in that, so it’s kinda craze now.

127

F151: Where are your favorite places to skate in the City? TA: I got a bunch. I like the Brooklyn Banks a lot. I live pretty close to there. I like this spot 12th and A. My friend Billy [Rohan] built it. It’s behind this school. They used to have a really cool mini ramp there but they had to tear it down. The school wasn’t psyched on it. But they pretty much made it legal skating there. They have skate obstacles that are permanent, so it’s pretty tight. F151: Who are some of your favorite people to skate with? TA: Word. I like skating with Billy, I like skating with all my homies—my friend Leo [Gutman]. There’s always my friend Ariel [Perle], he’s fun to skate with. Just whoever’s around, you know? As long as they’re positive and they’re not gonna stress out over a trick and bum me out, as long as they’re trying to have a good time, I’m down. F151: Where do you see skating going in the future? TA: I think it’s probably going to keep progressing and it’s going to keep getting bigger and bigger, ’cause it’s become so popular nowadays. I know back in the ’80s it died out for a bit, but I don’t really see that happening again. It’s gotten so large and mainstream, so some of that’s good, and then some is bad. As far as tricks and all that, I don’t know how much crazier it can get. I’ve been seeing some of the new videos coming out and it’s pretty insane. Maybe it’ll step back down to less technical skating, and be more about style. F151: Who do you look up to in skateboarding? TA: There’s a lot—so many to name. This guy Dennis Busenitz. He skates

128

super fast; he’s one of my favorites. A lot of people in New York I like. It’s kind of a hard question, there’s so many rippers out there. This kid Jake Johnson. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. He’s real sick, he’s always amazing to watch. I went on a trip to Woodward skate camp with him…super fun. F151: Are you sponsored? TA: Yeah, I have a few sponsors. Not too serious. My homies, they hook me up. Supreme and Acapulco Gold. I get shoes from Etnies. Prize Fighter Cutlery, it’s this new wheel company. It’s pretty sick. They have some cool graphics. And Rockstar Bearings, too. I got a lot of friends that run companies, so they’re always down to look out for me. Also, shout out to my homies at Shut Skateboards. F151: What do you do when you’re not skating? TA: I also go to college. I go to Parsons for photography. Those go hand in hand. I would get my photo taken skating, and then I’d be interested in the cameras, so I got into that. I was like, “That looks like fun.” I started off going to school for photography in California for a semester, outside of Los Angeles, and then after that semester I took off a semester and just skated, chilled, and worked a little in LA. And then after those months I moved back here, and now I’m back in school, so I had a pretty long summer, you could say. F151: What brought you back to New York? TA: It’s hard out there. Getting around, everything’s so spread out. It’s fun the first few months, and then you come to New York and you have so much more fun ’cause everything’s easier to do. Everything’s close together, as far as skate spots and spots to hang

129

out with your friends. It’s so much more accessible. It’s so much more fast-paced out here, too. There’s always something going on. But out there it gets a little slow at times, and I got a little antsy. It was a good year, but I think LA is a better place for me to visit. F151: Do you shoot film, digital, or a mix of both? TA: Both, but I’m real into film. It’s a slower process. You really get to think about it more. Working in the darkroom is easier for me than all the digitized printing and looking at the monitor, ’cause you really understand and see what you’re doing in there. The digital, it’s all those crazy programs. I’m learning about those, which obviously is a necessity if you wanna get into that business and what not, but I’ll always prefer film. It has more of a raw, real look to it. F151: Do you see yourself continuing with photography for a long time? TA: Oh yeah, for sure, ’cause I’m

130

working on the degree in that, so something in that field I see myself doing. I like setting up photo shoots, thinking up crazy ideas. ’Cause you always have something to do when you’re not skating, especially in New York. Once it gets cold in the winter it’s hard to skate unless you go to some of the indoor spots. But you gotta stay busy. If you’re just relying on skating, it’s hard to have a good time all the time. You get bored. F151: Do you see yourself skating for a long time to come? TA: Oh yeah. Just for fun. Not necessarily professionally or anything like that. Definitely keeping it up. I’ve been careful recently. I don’t really jump down too many big things anymore, ’cause I’m older now. I understand that if I wanna do this for a while I can’t be ruining my knees and ankles. I gotta take it easy and think about a long term. I’ve been skating a lot of transitions and stuff like that. Whatever’s fun to me.

F151: I heard your mom owns a gallery on the West Side. TA: She doesn’t own it. She’s a curator. It’s way uptown, actually. It’s in Spanish Harlem…I believe? It’s called the American Academy of Arts and Letters. It’s pretty sick up there. They have all these crazy members. It’s kind of a private museum. Members from writers like Tom Wolfe to architects, painters…just an insane group of people. So they have shows with their members and then their members bring new people in—like their homies or whatever—their art. So it’s a chance for younger people to get their art out there and make some money. They have awards, dinners…it’s crazy. I go to some of the art shows up there. They happen a couple of times a year, and all the work that goes into that, that she does, is pretty amazing. F151: And what’s your family’s background? You’re Middle Eastern? TA: Yeah, we’re all Lebanese. It’s pretty much a full-blood Lebanese

family. I guess my grandparents were born out there, except a few of them were born in the US, but after that it’s all Lebanon. I actually visited there a while ago. I think I was about eight, probably right around when I started skating. I remember I was bummed that I didn’t bring my board. I saw some crazy shit I wanted to skate, and I wanna go back and check it out sometime. It’s just a little hectic out there, as everyone may know. F151: Do you still have family in Lebanon? TA: Oh yeah, for sure. We’re in touch with them sometimes, long-distance phone calls and all of that. I’m supposed to go visit sometime in the next year or so, so that should be cool. And that should be good with the photography, too, ’cause there’s some awesome things to shoot out there. www.redalurk.blogspot.com

131

“Al-Shaykh Imam / Ahmad Fu’ad Najm”

CARRIERS OF DISSENT Words and tapes Mohammad Dagman Decades before the advent of YouTube, Facebook, Twitter, and other new-media outlets, cassette tapes transmitted dissent in the Middle East. Because tapes are easy to record and even easier to duplicate, they helped spread all kinds of “treasonous” speech far and wide. Most of these tapes had few markings and were often hidden in false cases. Here are some examples of how the cassette tape was used to fuel rebellion. Al-Shaykh Imam and Ahmad Fu’ad Najm Egyptians Imam Issa (AKA al-Shaykh Imam, 1918-1995)—a blind, struggling musician—and Ahmad Fu’ad Najm (1929- )—a famed poet—were partners in crime, so to speak. Often singing solo, al-Shaykh Imam would put Najm’s political satire to music. The collaboration landed both of them in jail, where they only caused more trouble, singing to prisoners— and guards. The Egyptian authorities noticed their increasing popularity and thought it better to release them. The duo rarely sang love songs, but when they did, the political undertones

made them cult classics. One of their most famous songs ridicules Nixon’s visit to Cairo during Sadat’s reign, while another makes fun of the French president’s visit. Their cassettes were banned in nearly all Arab countries but still reached millions. Nowadays, Ahmad Fu’ad Najm can be seen on Egyptian TV as smart and original as ever, while al-Shaykh Imam passed away in 1995. Mudhaffar al-Nawwab Mudhaffar al-Nawwab (1934- ) is an Iraqi poet whose cassette tapes received a great deal of attention. His prose takes the form of traditional Shia mourning, sounding like an attack by

135

a wailing man, cursing the government with extremely vulgar language. He was imprisoned, but managed to escape after he dug a tunnel with fellow prisoners. Still, he reached eager listeners while hiding in the marshes of southern Iraq, delivering prose about his experience, including phrases like, “Who smuggled this village out of my country?” Passed on by listeners who made bootleg copies, al-Nawwab was never silenced. Ziad al-Rahbani Ziad al-Rahbani (1956- ) is the son of Fairuz and Asi al-Rahbani, and the nephew of Mansur, perhaps the three most important figures in Lebanese music. During the civil war that began in 1975, Ziad wrote a series of plays that dealt with the war in Lebanon and the interference from foreign coun-

136

tries. His tapes were not as hardcore as those of al-Shaykh Imam or alNawwab, but they were still banned in many countries. Even so, they found their way to open ears via cassette. Besides the masterfully crafted scripts of Ziad’s plays, the tapes always contained gems of music. Among his actors was the late, great Joseph Saqr, who most often sang about unemployment and life’s other prevailing troubles. Ziad’s plays include Film Amerki Tawil, which became an American feature film, Belnesbe la-Bukra Shu (What’s Up With Tomorrow), and Nazl al-Surur (Happiness Inn). He has also produced his mother’s music and his own music; Ziad’s Arabic jazz albums are a must.

138

VOICE LESSONS Interview and photo Sage Hazarika In light of the September 11 attacks and the resulting War On Terror, Arabs and Muslims living in the United States have been unfairly perceived as potential threats to national security and the “American” way of life. Within the media firestorm surrounding Arab- and Muslim-Americans, a relative few rational voices have been heard. Moustafa Bayoumi, writer and Professor of English at Brooklyn College, has compiled the stories of seven young Arab-Brooklynites in his 2009 book How Does It Feel To Be A Problem? Though no single individual can solve a problem like our nation’s penchant for discrimination, publishing the stories of those who have had virtually no voice is, without a doubt, a step in the right direction. Frank151: How did your background translate to daily life growing up? Moustafa Bayoumi: I grew up in Kingston, in Ontario Canada. It was kind of a lily-white town—an old, conservative, Victorian city. My family and I pretty much stood out from the beginning. I played saxophone in my school’s band and sometimes we would go on trips to perform in the United States. We’d get in a bus, drive to the border, and the border guard would come up and ask, “Everybody here Canadian?” We would all yell, “Yeeees,” but he would walk down the aisle of the bus and say, “You...and you. Let’s see the passports,” pointing at the only other brown kid on the bus and I. It was always just the two of us [laughs]. I started to embrace my culture on a larger scale in high school. I had always

been around Arab and Middle Eastern politics, as my parents were quite politically oriented and often talked about the state of the Middle East. There came a certain point when I became very interested in Palestinian issues, and that was a way for me to embrace who I was. I’m not even Palestinian; I’m Egyptian. But I think that if you’re in the Arab diaspora, you are a Palestinian because you have to embrace that cause, understand the great injustice done to those people, and you have to have the injustice rectified. F151: What did you think of the climate for Arab-Americans in New York City when you got here, and how did that change after September 11? MB: There’s always been an association of Arabs with terrorism and violence. That goes back a long way, and there’s a theory that my mentor in

139

grad school, Professor Edward Said, wrote about. He had a famous book called Orientalism, where he said that Western civilization as a whole found definition for themselves by making this “other” in the Middle East and elsewhere. That kind of thinking existed when I was growing up, but the valance of it has been ratcheted up to such a degree that being Arab has become a new category of existence post September 11. Professor Said used to say that Arabs made up the last ethnic group that it was “okay to be prejudiced against.” In a way, [Americans are] much more sensitive now, and I think it’s a good thing that people’s gross generalizations are gone for most groups. However, on another level, if you examine popular media, there’s still an open season on the Arabs and Muslims.

140

F151: What are your thoughts on Arabs in the wider spectrum of civil rights issues? MB: I think that any society is as strong as its most vulnerable population. If you are protecting the rights of Arab Americans when they are extremely vulnerable, what you’re really doing is protecting your own rights. You can say the same thing for other under-represented groups. It’s not about identifying which group gets recognition, it’s really about your stand on the protection of the most vulnerable, and there are a few people who are able to see that. I try to make a point of citing groups like the Center for Constitutional Rights, an activist law organization based in lower Manhattan. They were fearless in defending the rights of Arabs right after 9-11. Though not based in the Arab community at all, they’re based

in the Constitution, and they want to defend it on the grounds of the document’s principles. I remember hearing this from my ex-girlfriend who worked there and my friends in the legal community. They had a dialogue, not long after the attacks happened, about taking on cases protecting the rights of Arabs, even though it was going to make them extremely unpopular at the time. The Center decided, “that’s what our mandate was,” and I applaud them for what they did. F151: Was there a specific breaking point for writing the book? MB: After September 11 there came a point where every Arab person I know in the US had been, or knew someone who had been, visited by the FBI. People were concerned about their futures. I tried to write op-eds and give lectures, but everything just kept piling up and piling up and I kept hearing more and more stories, until I said, “I can’t just be responding to what I hear day by day, I want to actually create a document of it so we can sit back, reflect, and then learn more than we could from just responding.” F151: When the book came out, what was the general impact like? Did you feel the public fully absorbed your concept? MB: It does take a while, and something that I’m dealing with is the title. I drew it from the writings of W.E.B. Du Bois, but people think it’s angry or polemical. Of all the words in the title, people fixate on “Problem.” What happens in an age with a lot of ideology and lecturing, the real human emotions, besides fear, are evacuated. In my title, I would fixate on the word “Feel,” because I think that people don’t know what it really feels like to be an Arab, or Muslim-American. Most of [the negative feedback] came through

email; people told me [I wasn’t] a real professor and that I should’ve stuck to writing books about English. That’s the polite stuff. The most extreme one I got was on the anniversary of 9-11 when I wrote an op-ed about the year after the attacks. Someone sent a letter to my office that was laid out like a ransom note with terrorists’ names like “Mohammad Atta” rearranged into the word “attack,” and had a collage of a camel with a missile going up its ass. It was just bizarre, but I laugh it all off. It doesn’t really bother me. F151: Has the climate really changed for Arabs and Muslims in America? MB: I think most people want it to change, and Obama’s election, his rhetoric, trip to Cairo, and interview with Arabic television all indicate a certain “hope”—to use his own word—for its change. But I’m not sure it’s there yet. Every year The Washington Post and ABC News organization conduct a poll asking Americans if they have negative perceptions of Islam. They’ve done it since 2001 and this past year in May it was the highest that it’s ever been, at 48%. If half the population says that they have negative opinions, I’m not sure of the level at which we can keep our civil rights protected. In the end though, the people I wrote about are optimistic about their futures and the future of their country. So at least that bodes well. Like I said, I think that there’s a lot of good will and I encounter it when I go places to speak about the book. I hear that people don’t want to live in a world that’s based on fear or division and hatred. I know I don’t. There’s definitely a desire to turn the page and move on. We can do it but I think we haven’t charted the way yet and there’s been progress, so I’m optimistic about it.

141

Che Guevara (L) with Jamal Abd al-Nasser.

Anwar al-Sadat (L) and Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin (R) with US President Jimmy Carter.

142

NASSER VS. SADAT Words Mohammad Dagman Foreigners ruled Egypt from the days of the Pharaohs until 1952, when a number of army officers known as the Free Officers removed King Faruq to establish a republic. The first Egyptian to rule was Muhammad Najeeb, an officer with a higher rank than the other, younger Free Officers. But that changed a year later when Jamal Abd al-Nasser (1918-1970), the most visible among the Free Officers, took power. He ruled till his death in 1970 and was succeeded by another Free Officer, Anwar al-Sadat (1918-1981). Sadat ruled until he was assassinated by a group of Army personnel belonging to a militant Islamic movement. These two presidents of Egypt represented very different ideas. NASSER Jamal Abd al-Nasser was, and to some still is, one of the most popular political figures in the world. He is viewed as a liberator and an inspiration, although some consider him a dictator. As president, he nationalized the Suez Canal in 1956 and liberated farmland from feudal lords, returning the land to its original owners. He built the High Dam and many other projects across Egypt. Nasser united with Syria from 1958 to 1961 with discourse targeting the Arab world, which was problem-

atic, as it created many enemies for him. Nasserâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s problems also included relying heavily on army officers to rule Egypt, which led to many incidents of abuse. He was tough on the Islamists, who attempted to assassinate him while he was giving a speechâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;a speech he continued even after being shot. Upon his death in 1970, he left behind a humble house and very few material possessions, a rarity in the Middle East for a man of his stature.

143

SADAT Anwar al-Sadat originally wanted to be an actor and appeared in several films. At a later point he was caught contacting the Nazis, which led to his imprisonment by the British. He escaped, was forced out of the Egyptian Army, and lived in hiding for some time. He later served with King Faruq, formulating a connection with the notorious Black Guards. Somehow, however, it seemed he joined the Free Officers movement. It was rumored that on the night of the revolution in 1952, Sadat went with his wife to a movie theater where he started a fight so he would have an alibi in case the revolution failed. Sadat was obsessed with his appearance. Rumor has it that he would walk miles just to save his fare money for the ironing of his shirts and suits. The day he was assassinated, Sadat refused

144

to wear a bulletproof vest underneath his tailored army uniform. His outfit was created by Pierre Cardin—the famous French fashion designer—to emulate a Nazi uniform. Sadat was killed by the very Islamists to whom he gave power early on in his command. He did so to reconcile the quashing of their movement and execution of many of their leaders by his predecessor, Nasser, and to counter the leftists who ruled the street and the universities at that moment. At the time of his death, Sadat’s wealth was estimated to be hundreds of millions of dollars. He is not popular in the Arab street, but is somewhat popular in Egypt proper. He is credited with establishing peace with Israel, and ending a long-lasting state of war, which led to an influx of US aid. His policy, known as the era of al-Infitah, opened Egyptian markets to international trade.

146

HYPERNOVA Interview Frank Green Photos Adam Pasulka Hypernova is a good rock band, regardless of where they come from. But hailing from Iran, with this much talent and style, adds to their appeal. Frank151 first visited Hypernova at their practice studio in Williamsburg, and caught up with them again for a show at Don Hill’s in SoHo, NYC. Frank151: How did you guys form? Raam: Hypernova started around nine years ago, back in the year 2000. It was the beginning of Hypernova... it wasn’t Hypernova yet. I met Kami, our drummer, at a military camp, and he knew Poya, who played guitar, and we started our first band together and played for a couple years around the underground scene in Iran. Then Poya left for Australia, and we met these guys, Kodi and Jam, through various shows and friends in the underground over there. Hypernova finally came into fruition, and we just kept playing and playing and dreaming that one day we could finally leave the shithole that we were in, actually go on a real stage and play our music for other audiences. We finally got our chance to come here in the States. We got invited to the South by Southwest Festival. We had to go through a bunch of visa issues and shit, which was devastating. But we finally got in after our visas were denied the first time. We got a New York senator [Chuck Schumer] involved. It was really crazy. We really lucked out. I guess we were at the right place at the right time.

F151: What was it like playing the underground in Iran? R: It’s so unique because at every moment, every second, people are afraid of being caught by the police, so there’s this extra ingredient of fear, which adds a whole new dimension to the show, ’cause you have this extra adrenaline. Both the crowd and yourself, everyone’s afraid of getting caught, but they’re more concerned about partying and having a good time. So it adds a really exciting and unique experience, which we haven’t felt really over here, unless it’s been our really big shows, which have been really amazing and fun. It’s cool, too, ’cause you have to try harder to impress people, especially in New York. That’s why we like living in the City. There’s a lot of competition. It just makes us have to work harder to really prove to ourselves that we really are meant to do this for a living. ’Cause there’s so many bands, so many musicians. F151: What about competition in Iran? R: Yeah, interestingly enough, in the

147

148

149

scene in Iran people are competitive, even though no one’s ever really made it from there. We’re sort of the first ones to come from Iran, to come here as far as we have, and get signed, so we’re pioneers in a weird way. It’s funny, because back in Iran, I’d always tell the people who were competitive with us, “Dude, no one even knows us. Why are we even competing? We should be helping each other so we can leave this god-forsaken place and be able to play.” I’ve been really trying to help out other kids back home. I’ve been trying to help them get into festivals and getting them visas to come perform because I think there’s so much talent in the underground that it would be a waste if they couldn’t get their music heard elsewhere around the world. F151: How big was the underground? How big were your shows? R: We’d have small shows from like 30...40, to maybe a couple hundred. You always had to limit the shows because the bigger they got, the more out of control they got, the more likely you were to get caught by the police. You know the old rave culture, where you’d fill one place up and then you’d take everyone else to another afterparty? Everyone was on the move constantly. We’d always throw a show and kick everyone out really fast, to not draw attention. But at first we didn’t know how big the scene was. We just kept playing. For the longest time we thought we were the only band. Every band in Iran thinks they’re the only band doing their genre! As the years went by, we heard about scenes in a bunch of other cities—not only in Tehran—really random, conservative cities, which you never would have thought that bands would even be playing in. Not just bands, but electronic musicians, people who do

150

traditional music infused in a modern way. And now, because of the internet and home production, people just record themselves at home and start sharing their music. F151: Was just practicing your instruments difficult? R: Yeah. You couldn’t just walk down the street into any random place that has a rehearsal room. Our room was literally three stories underground. We practiced in this really small room that was in a parking lot. We had to totally isolate the sound and put a whole bunch of acoustics and stuff—and by “acoustics” I mean whatever we could find—pieces of foam and egg cartons. We had to keep changing rehearsal spaces because we were so loud they’d kick us out eventually. Sometimes you could also find an underground rehearsal spot. We’d pay someone to go and rehearse at their space. F151: How did you guys get your instruments? R: Instruments suck ass in Iran. There’s a really high tariff on bringing musical instruments into the country. I guess it’s sort of their way of subversively battling Westernized culture. Guitars are so expensive. A good trade would be trying to bring guitars into Iran. I remember I bought a Fender, electric, here for like $100 or $200. I sold it for like $800 over there. It was ridiculous. Because you can’t find anything or it’s so overpriced, people usually have to have their friends or relatives bring something from outside of the country. But with the limited equipment people have in Iran, people put out such amazing music. Not all of them are great. There’s a gem here and there. What I have the most respect for and

I’m a fan of is, these kids, whatever genre they’re playing, they’re playing with their heart, and they’re putting their lives into it, ’cause it’s such a risky thing. I always admired that, even though a lot of them probably aren’t that good. But if they were given the chance, at least to rehearse as loud as everyone else, they might be able to be that next big band. We didn’t know how fucking good or bad we were. We just came here to the States, and we really sucked ass, to be honest, when we first came here. We were able to upgrade our equipment and rehearse like crazy without fear of reprisal. That obviously helped us improve our skills and get to where we are today.

has, ever since like 20 years ago. We used to hate it, but nowadays when we hear it it’s sort of nostalgic.

F151: What about musical influences? R: We all have different tastes in music. Kodi’s really into Queens of the Stone Age and Nine Inch Nails. I listen to a lot of ambient and classical music. When it comes to rock I like Pink Floyd and Grandaddy. Kami likes Casabian.

F151: Have you guys gotten to see a good deal of the States? R: Oh yeah. I think I’ve gotten to see more of America than most Americans. We’ve seen like 36 states. F151: What do you think? R: Ah, we love it. Every state is like a different country and there’s so many cool things to experience. Every city we find the weirdest people, I don’t know how, and we party with them. It’s just really fun, being able to go on the road. You absorb so much of the local culture.

In the beginning, there was an influence from all these new indie bands that were coming out in the 2000s, but you learn very fast that most of these bands and these trends are very momentary. They pass. We wanted to have more substance and more depth. F151: You mentioned Pink Floyd. Are they popular in Iran? R: Surprisingly, yes. There are a couple of bands that are really weird that are really famous. There’s like Pink Floyd, Dire Straits, Black Sabbath, and there’s also a lot of obscure ’80s music. Have you guys ever heard of Modern Talking? Samantha Fox, C.C. Catch. Really obscure ’80s, really bad pop music. Metal is pretty big in Iran. I don’t know why. I think it’s like two guys who came with their CD collection and that’s what the whole country

F151: You guys got signed recently by an indie label. R: They’re called Narnack. LA based. We actually had several offers, but we decided on these guys because we had the most freedom with them. They really allow us to be ourselves instead of telling us what to do—us turning into slaves for the company, basically. That’s something we really appreciate and we’re really into. We’re so sensitive about our personal freedoms, we wouldn’t want to compromise that in any way whatsoever.

F151: What’s next for Hypernova? R: World tours, hopefully. We’re just waiting to sort out our visas, ’cause, you know, we’re from the Axis of Evil and all. We’ve actually been invited to do tours in Europe and Japan and South America. As soon as we get that visa thing figured out, we’re going. We’re gonna be traveling. That’s like a dream come true for us. I mean, what better dream than to be able to see the world and meet beautiful people and play your own music?

151