SANDStorm

D and I just returned from Makan, a concert venue in downtown Cairo which hosts live traditional music every Tuesday and Wednesday night. The building is just a block from a Metro stop and across the street from the imposing, sloped walls of the Pharonic, yet oddly Soviet-esque, styled mausoleum of Saad Zaghloul, the Wafd party nationalist leader who was prime minister in Egypt in 1924.

The entrance to Makan is set just slightly below street level and I instinctively duked when walking through the door. The main room is open and the concrete walls are unfinished, full of pockmarks and scars. Although the walls are barren, the atmosphere is very intimate. Red and white wooden chairs line the railing of the balcony which overlooks the room. Chairs and floor cushions are placed on the large, red oriental rugs which cover the floors and the whole room is lit by small, soft, orange light bulbs hanging from the ceiling.

Tonight’s concert was Setona, a group of eleven performers who play Sudanese music. As the musicians sat down, someone’s phone rang out, “Hello? Is that me you’re looking for?” Yes, the phone played Lionel Richie.

I have never heard Sudanese music before. Or at least I thought I hadn’t, until I recognized the third song they played from one of the various “World Music” cds I used to own. Every song Setona played tonight was up-tempo and lively, enhanced by the crowd’s singing and clapping – the songs were definitely familiar to many in the room. Occasionally a woman’s high-pitched voice rang out from the crowd, “tttttttttrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiii—iiiiiiiii—iiiiiiiiiiiiiii—–iiiiiiiiiiiiii—–llllllllllllllllllllllllllllll……….” and the crowd responded with fists pumping in the air.

Most of the instruments were recognizable to me: four types of drums, an oud, a six-foot long wooden xylophone, a red velvet-covered accordian, and various percussion instruments like a clapper and something which looked like a cheese grater. Two men and two women clapped and sang in the background. Another man played three round drums which floated in a three-foot diameter metal laundry bucket filled with water. The lead singer, a large woman in a pink and gold wrap which sparkled under the lights and mezmorized me, played a drum under her arm. When the pace of the music got faster, she switched to a large, wooden mortar and pestle. She stood up and pounded the pestle into the mortar, her whole body shaking as the loud knocks rang out and directed the tempo changes to the other musicians.

As Setona entered into the second hour of music, the crowd did not show any signs of restlessness. The triller and a few others from the crowd got up and danced in the semi-circle in front of the musicians. The triller moved her torso in slow waves and threw her head back, her face to the ceiling. One of the male dancers put his fingertip on her forehead, as if turning her around and around like a top. I couldn’t stop watching and hoped they’d never get tired of dancing for me. By the end of the night, I felt like I was sitting in a friend’s living room with fifty of my closest and newest friends.

Tags: Egypt, Travel, Tag Index

This entry was posted on Wednesday, November 8th, 2006 at 3:07 am and is filed under Egypt, Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.