Mohamed El-Assyouti continues his exploration of post- iftar festivities When it was announced that the Cultural Development Fund's (CDF) Ramadan concerts at Beit Al-Harawi would open with singer Ali El-Haggar his long-time fans experienced a mixture of expectation and disbelief. In the end the latter was the most appropriate. Tuesday night came, but not El-Haggar. Instead, he sent apologies to his Egyptian audience and went to Beirut. Two days later and Sheikh Mohamed El-Helbawi and his band opened the Ramadan programme at the Talaat Harb Library in the charming neighbourhood of Al-Sayyeda Nafisa. The Library is up a little slope across from the square in front of the mosque. People sitting on the sidewalk-turned-café in the square seemed to be inhaling the very breath of old Cairo along with their water pipes: for an evening the city's lungs and theirs became one. Perhaps it is because it is so difficult for cars to circulate that the area has much less traffic than, say, Al-Sayyeda Zeinab or Al-Sayyeda Eisha. This, in turn, makes the place seem like an open-door museum of sorts. Inside the library garden the chairs were occupied by an audience drawn from the neighbourhood, mostly women and girls. It was refreshing to see an audience not comprised of CDF Ramadan regulars. The stage was surrounded by trees through which lights had been trailed, their leaves dancing in the autumn breeze to the accompaniment of the chants. The munshid was wearing traditional Azharite garb. To his left was a chorus of two, dressed in white abayas lined in gold while to his right was the band, comprising a nay (flute), an oud (lute), douff (tambourine) and tabla (drums). Despite having a cold, for which El-Helbawi apologised, the 12 part programme proceeded smoothly. The introductory three parts comprised the call for prayer with chorus, " Al-Azan Al-Sultani ", the last verses from Surat Al-Baqara in the Qur'an which constitute a prayer to be forgiven and accepted by God, followed by Asmau Allahu Al-Husna (the 99 names of God) -- the latter now a staple of the opening of most celebrations, including weddings and engagement parties. El-Helbawi's performance proper was dedicated to two Sufi poets, Sharaf al-Din al-Busiri (b 608 -- d 695 AH; 1212-1295 AD), author of Al-Burda, and Umar Ibn al-Farid (b 576 -- d 632 AH; c. 1181-1235 AD), of Syrian origin, though he settled in the Muqattam Hills for much of his life. El-Helbawi sang with minimal orchestration, depending on microphone technique for dramatic effect, producing a vocalisation more akin to the style of traditional Arab singers than to that of muqri'in (Qur'anic reciters). The douff featured prominently in the eighth song, articulating a drunken theme. The following song, " Sala Allahu 'ala Muhammad / Sala Allahu 'alaihi wa salam " included an exquisite solo from the blind flutist, with the earlier drumming picked up again by the tabla. El-Helbawi's penultimate song was a plea to God to grant his approval of his worshipers, whose minds are limited and cannot conceive of his greatness. In one hour, with culminating crescendos at the end of each of the 12 songs, the sheikh traced a journey from the desperation of one lost in the desert, not knowing in which direction to turn, through the troughs of drunkenness and oblivion to enchantment with the love of and longing for the divine. On Sunday El-Sawi Cultural Wheel staged a poetry reading with veteran vernacular poet . Though amply advertised, and despite the popularity of the venue, it attracted a meagre audience. As the management debated whether or not to move the event to a tiny corner of the venue's Nile-side space the loudspeakers played an hour's worth of Omar Khairat's dramatic music. The excessive percussion provided the perfect accompaniment for the many flies that seemed intent on persecuting the few members of the public to have turned up. When the poet started reading his lines into a microphone the screams of football fans then the honking processions roaming the streets in celebration of the match were more than audible. It was football, after all, that had kept the audience away. The opening poem found Higab wishing he was the prince of all fairy tale princes, able to move the poor into palaces, force ministers to cultivate the land, give toys to children and a rose and a book to everyone else. He yearned to fly like the breeze and enter the mouths of people to cut out half of their tongues -- "the half that doesn't tell the truth" -- so that they might know when to say yes and no. Higab's next poem lamented the ills of society, beginning with rampant corruption, lampooning widespread illiteracy, even amongst scientists. Worship of the dollar -- "calling it mummy and daddy" -- was denounced, as was the smuggling of billions of the same to Switzerland. Films that torture their audiences with cheap entertainment and newspapers that misinform were similarly treated as the poet lamented the respect that is given to men who are no better than thieves. Higab concluded his reading from a volume with a black cover, reciting three poems from 1963, which oscillated between the mood of a poet who feels abandoned by his audience to an altogether different mood, one in which the masses are celebrated in revolutionary fashion. Alexandrian composer and singer Hamdi Raouf played the oud as he sang songs by Sayed Darwish, all dealing with steadfastness in the face of temptations, especially those offered by Westernisation, and extolling austerity over humiliation, learning to starve a little instead of begging. "Happiness," he sang, "is to be rich with one's own self". Higab sang quietly as he listened to Raouf. As a finale the young singer Wael Foud accompanied himself on the oud, performing two songs written by Higab and set to music by his long-time collaborator Ammar El-Sheri'i. Higab's lines, a simple expression of common fears -- of old-age and feeling outnumbered -- seemed perfectly pitched for their times.
