After years of silence, music fills streets of Mosul in Iraq
MOSUL: For centuries, it was a magnet for artistes across the region and churned out Iraq’s best musicians, but recent years saw Mosul suffer a devastating musical purge.
For three years, the sprawling northern city was under the brutal rule of the Islamic State group.
In imposing a ban on playing or listening to music, the extremists smashed and torched instruments.
“It was impossible to bring my instrument with me whenever I left the house,” said city resident Fadel al-Badri, who hid his precious violin from the rampaging fighters.
Foreshadowing IS’ repression, the 2000s saw al-Qaeda and other groups impose an ultra-conservative interpretation of Islam in several districts of the city.
But with Mosul freed from the grip of IS in July 2017, Iraq’s second city is embarking on a musical comeback.
“After the liberation, songs are back where they truly belong in Mosul,” said Badri.
Mosul has a rich musical history. It is the home of Ziryab, a musician who introduced the oud – the oriental lute popular across the Arab world – to Europe in the 9th century.
From folkloric shows and phil-
harmonic concerts to weddings and other national holidays, song and dance have traditionally filled the streets and surrounding air.
But that meant nothing to IS, which ravaged Mosul’s heritage – musical and otherwise – when it took the city as part of a lightning offensive across Iraq in 2014.
The militants began by destroying the statue of celebrated virtuoso Mulla Uthman al-Mosuli, and then
turned their attention to destroying instruments across the city.
IS also forced musicians in Mosul to sign a pledge that they would never play or sing again, which was then posted in public places.
Singer Ahmed al-Saher, 33, said it was humiliating.
“I couldn’t leave after they made me sign because of my sick mother. I had to stay here under pressure and fear of the unknown,”
he recalled.
Ordinary residents, as well as musicians, are keen to celebrate the return of artistic freedom.
“Terrorism failed in killing our love for art in all forms. It’s been born again, despite the destruction,” said Amneh al-Hayyali.
The 38-year-old brought her husband, son, and daughter to watch a late-night concert in a cultural centre in east Mosul. — AFP