Muslim voices: A teahouse triumph in NYC

Harsh but true--most U.S. citizens view the Muslim world as a problem.  This is true not only of established U.S. citizenry, but also of mainstream occidental culture.  One tragic outcome of this perception is that diverse populations of Muslims are often stereotyped, in print editorials and by prominent cable news pundits, as an undifferentiated terrorist leviathan.

As a result, generalizations about Islam, based on events cherry-picked outside of historical context, are common, as are dubious political prescriptions for achieving peace through violent confrontation.  In an effort to broaden appreciation for the wide range of Muslim cultural practices, and to promote understanding between the Muslim world and the West, the Asia Society, Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM) and NYU Center for Dialogues recently conceived of a ten-day arts festival called Muslim Voices: Arts & Ideas.

As the organizers explain, the initiative, which ran from June 5 to 14, 2009 in New York City, celebrated the extraordinary range of artistic expression in the Muslim World, bringing together Muslim artists, curators, scholars, and public speakers from Asia, Africa, and the Middle East - as well as Europe and  North America. Performances ranged from the traditional - calligraphy, storytelling, and Sufi chanting - to the contemporary - video installations, Arabic hip-hop, and political cartoons - allowing New York and, more broadly, American audiences the opportunity to experience and learn about the cultural diversity and multiple perspectives that characterize the Muslim world, both in the past and today.

Once a friend clued me in to the festival, I checked out the schedule and decided to treat myself to last Wednesday's Chaikhana, or "tea house" event.  The program did not disappoint in the least--although I couldn't always match the unfamiliar languages with the translations included in the helpful literature the organizers provided, for the most part my ignorance didn't matter: the soulfulness of the music and the poetry were self-evident.

The event kicked off with an offering of tasty hot chai (which I found more delicious even with no sugar added), and then a Jaliya troupe took the stage.  The crowd, a little stiff and "academic" at first, relaxed as Abdoulaye Diabate, a vocalist and acoustic guitar player, accompanied by Abu Sila, a balafon player from Guinea, began to play.  Their melodically twangy tunes soon had the audience's hearts thumping with delight. 

Particularly charming was the frankness and confidence with which Abdoulaye's young son Toumani served up powerful rhythms on his djembe.  In response to their irresistable enthusiasm, I could not help but grin, carried along by the bouncy infectuousness of the music and the passionate speak-sung vocals.  And yet, although the music sounded simple to my western ear, it was far from frivolous.  Any music that can reconnect us to a powerful sense of wonder has a significant power, since it can overcome the differences that our adult selves mistakenly perceive as so insurmountable.

After a traditional dinner was served (had to get second helpings of the chana, it was so good) the next segment featured an examples of Zajal poetry.  Zajal is a popular levantine tradition of improvised verse typically performed by rival "teams" facing off against each other. Since I anticipated (with some trepidation) something closer to an in-your-face poetry slam, I was instead surprised when the stately figure of Naji Youssef took center stage, to sing soulful love poems by Youssef Abdul Samad and Edgar Chouiri that transcended mere romanticism. Both Lebanese-American poets were present and Mr. Samad explained something of the poetic nuances to the audience before Mr. Youssef sang. The raw passion and selfless desire felt by the characters are conveyed  in metaphors richly steeped in the natural world.  A few lines from an Edgar Chouiri poem, translated below, are representative of the intensity of the overall work.

She was afraid that if your name, written on her, were to be erased

she would become nothing but dry wood to be burned

and then she would travel to you as wind and smoke.

Any poem that can remind me fondly of an ex-girlfriend has got to be good (enough said on that score).

The final program for the evening was a re-enactment of a traditional Urdu mushaira, or gathering of poets.   In the 1920's and 30's, these gatherings were influential in the civic and cultural life of Pakistan and India -- political discussions and poetry readings flourished side by side without the tyrannical influence of religious bigotry more prevalent today.  As part of the staged mushaira, Qania 'Ada', Sabiha 'Saba', and Raees Warsi all sat together and took turns performing and singing their original works.  The performances, especially the female ones, were captivatingly direct; there is nothing so affecting as an individual pouring out their heart in song, using words they chose themselves to express the depth of felt experience, so that all present may share in it.

One stanza in particular, of Sabiha's poem "Na Jantey They Keh Qayamat Ki Bandishun Mey", I found particularly poignant.  The poem ostensibly concerns a troubled couple:

Desires are resting their heads,

In the darkling domes of self.

Light up the lamps of the heart and look,

There be a way out for salvation.

I know my insanity, that is why I often think

The quarrel that has happened,

How short-lived it will be.

But as I followed this translation along with her singing, it seemed that these words might also apply in a broader context, as a prescription of sorts, for all peoples, divided by religion and nationality.  Reflecting on these lines, West and East might find a way out of the present madness of mutual misunderstanding.

Overall, the chaikhana experience as it is currently practiced (although more expensive at $15 for the ticket to the New York version) stands in marked contrast to the Starbucks where I pick up my morning coffee every day: there, most sit alone, even in groups, eyes fixated on glowing laptops, ears plugged with earbuds.  To try and break through the mediated reality, I sometimes make an effort to smile and talk with a stranger.  But, alas, I fear alienation is an entrenched fixture of both our present day existence, and the technologically mediated reality we all share.

Comparing the human intimacies I witnessed this evening, I wonder -- can't the West learn something from the emotional richness of traditions like Chaikhana?  Sure, western ideology and developed economies have produced some tremendous technological achievements, but can social networking tools really replace the deeper rewards we experience when expressing our deepest longings and passions to each other, face to face?

As I write these words, I realize that technology and intimacy are not necessarily in opposition.  In Iran, hundreds of thousands of people are organizing rallies and reporting events in a peer-to-peer fashion, using Twitter and Facebook.  These communications are relayed globally as horizontal peer-to-peer awareness circumscribes our earth and gives all of us a sense of collective responsibility.  Under such evolving conditions, the continued cross-pollenization of our different cultural realities is inevitable--as social networks attract more global users, cultural appreciation and understanding can only increase as more and deeper connections are made between transnational groups.

The "Muslim Voices: Arts & Ideas" festival has been a welcome step in the right direction -- one that has undoubtedly advanced understanding among cultures.  In the process, it has helped to overcome our global alienation, by exposing our hearts and minds to many of the rich and diverse traditions of the Muslim world.