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THE BALADI PERSONAE IN EGYPTIAN DANCE AND MUSIC

By Suraya Hilal

The term “Baladi” is an important word for every Egyptian whose life and traditions identify him or her with the soil of Egypt, the original country. These men and women are generally known as “children of the country”, “Awlad el Balad”. The term describes the particular identity of the working class people, the people who have migrated from rural villages and farming communities and settled in the cities, creating their own type of community. Awlad el Balad is also a term which refers to the “real Egyptian”, or “Masri Asil”, as opposed to the western occupiers and westernised Egyptians, known as “Afrang”. This is an important distinction for Egyptians, who have been ruled by foreigners for long periods of their history. In the period preceding Nasser’s revolution of 1952, which brought Egypt back into the hands of its own people for the first time in centuries, a strong consciousness of national identity had been building up. Awlad el Balad, the “children of the country”, were considered noble and honourable, an idealised image which became increasingly stronger among the population. (The ruling classes, whose lives are for the most part divorced from those of the lower or Baladi classes, may not hold this view.) Although not formally educated and sometimes illiterate, Awlad el Balad are street-wise and shrewd and possess a tremendous knowledge of the world. They are usually of lower middle class origin and hold non-government jobs working in a particular trade or craft. This also includes the trade and craft of the artist, singer, dancer and entertainer in general.

“Ibn el Balad”, the “son of the country”, is the true Egyptian who is also known as a “gada’a”, meaning good, honourable, courageous, and responsible. He has the same attributes as Awlad el Balad and he may perhaps be the local butcher, baker, or the “Ma’alim”, the boss man, the local merchant, running an honest trade and known as a good and fair leader in his community, or “harah”.

Awlad el Balad live in the Sha’abi communities (here, the word Sha’abi refers to the popular communities, which may also include the Baladi communities) of the major cities and adhere to a strong code of ethics and identity. For decades, even before the turn of the 20th Century, Mohammad Ali Street was the main Sha’abi quarter and the centre of the Baladi “asil” artist, the “real” Baladi artist, and remained so until the 1970s, when its artists saw its rapid decline. (Sadat’s open door policy, under which foreign money and big business flooded the country, and there was rapid social and economic change, resulted in the breakdown of the codes of conduct in the entertainer market which had protected the Baladi artist and his trade for decades.) However, the identity and consciousness of Awlad el Balad has essentially been established since the 1940s and still remains today. From that time onwards, male and female entertainers from Mohammad Ali Street were considered to be typical Awlad el Balad.

“Bint el Balad”, “ daughter of the country”, is the ultimate term for the honourable woman who is a working woman, generous, helpful to others, chaste and humorous, who takes care of family and husband, is a woman of the world, understands life, is highly intelligent, open but at the same time reserved, beautiful but at the same time modest in her behaviour and dress. It can also refer to dancers and singers who still hold to the original Baladi code of conduct. One well-known dancer of recent times called Suhair Zaki is also known as a “gada’ah”, honourable and good, a term which may also be applied to Bint el Balad. Ruh El Fuad, a well-known Baladi singer, is also referred to as a Bint el Balad and a “gada’ah” for living by the ethics of the Baladi tradition. Sometimes Bint el Balad can extend to the persona of the “Ma’alimah”, the woman boss, who possesses all the above attributes but can also sing and dance and is generally considered to be well-to-do, usually running her own business, such as a coffee house or bakery, with her husband, the Ma’alim, or man boss.

The Ma’alimah persona is very different from the “’Almah” or “’Awalim” (pl). “’Awalim” is a much older term and refers to the original court entertainers, the learned female singers and dancers who entertained in the royal courts and sang and danced with their all-female bands in the homes of the Pashas and the elite during the khedival rule of Egypt and the Ottoman period in general. It is believed that the golden age of the ’Awalim was the late 1800s to the early 1900s. The original ’Awalim sang, danced and played musical instruments within the “tarab”, or classical, tradition. Their particular type of songs, called “Taqtuqa” or Taqatiq (pl), became highly popular between the 1920s and 1930s in Cairo’s coffee houses and later on in the European-style closed theatres. During the 1930s men also started to sing the Taqatiq, and it could be said that this type of song led to the first popular musical structure for today’s Egyptian mainstream or commercial song. In the 1920s a different kind of ’Awalim profession emerged, which extended its activities to the well-to-do working class family weddings and whose musical idiom also encompassed the Baladi musical structures. Many of the ’Awalim operated from the working class quarter of Mohammad Ali Street, where they resided in the area called “Haret el ’Awalim”. The wedding ’Awalim remained in great demand among prosperous working class families until the early 1940s. By the late 1940s, however, the ’Awalim tradition had vanished. The wedding had changed, and segregated entertainment at weddings was no longer necessary. Female-only entertainment at weddings had become obsolete. From the late 1940s onwards feminism (which first took root in the 1880s) made a comeback in Egypt. The recording and film industries were booming, with female directors, and pre-revolutionary nationalism was strong. After the revolution of 1952, the Moulid began to thrive again, not only as a devotional festival commemorating saints and prophets but also as a platform for theatrical and artistic talent. The activities of religious fundamentalists were restricted. Open coffee houses were thriving, with performances of music and dance, and Baladi music and Baladi singers were highly popular. With the disappearance of the “Usta”, the female leader of a group of ’Awalim, the female artists of Mohammad Ali Street were forced to take charge of their own careers and began running their businesses with men. By the late 1940s the Ma’alimah, boss-woman, dancer-artist, was born.

The Baladi-Afrangi Dichotomy

In the city, the term Sha’abi is loosely used to mean “popular”, of the masses or populace. Baladi people, with their distinct and rich traditional-modern culture, have their origins in the “Balad”, the village or countryside. They live in Sha’abi quarters such as Bulaq or Mohammad Ali Street. The Baladi culture exists in opposition to the Afrangi culture, the culture of westernised Egyptians and colonialism. The Baladi people adhere to an honourable, ethical culture and spiritual beliefs which are opposed to the corrupting elements of modernity and westernisation. With the Baladi people, every aspect of their lives reflects wholesome and aesthetic values - their dress, which is beautiful but modest, their food, which is home grown without the poison of mass production, and their spirituality, which is a Baladi Islam akin to Sufism in which devotional songs and dance are part of the ritual of life, either expressed in the Moulid or in other rituals at births and funerals. Baladi people live and move between the Afrangi and Baladi worlds, the haves and have-nots, the westernised and the traditional. Often, they have a love-hate relationship with the rich, prosperous, and consumerist society. From this urban struggle of opposites emerges the essential expression of the Baladi character, in the music, the dance and the personae which were so well portrayed in the films of the 1940s and 1950s. Their yearning for truth and goodness and the simple life gives meaning to their struggles in the urban chaos. The depth of the suffering of the soul and the bitter-sweet nature of life are reflected in Baladi culture, especially in music and song.

The Baladi Mawaal and Song

During the urbanisation of Sha’abi traditions, the “Mawaal”, a soulful improvisation of the voice, developed into an intricate art form within the Baladi song. The function of the Mawaal is to return people to their essential feelings and emotions and the truth of their beliefs. Although the Sha’abi Mawaal of the Sa’id, or Upper Egypt, has similar qualities of lament, the Baladi Mawaal has evolved a much deeper expression of feeling, and the lengthening and intricate weaving of the uttered words give it more soulful qualities. One only needs to listen to the king of the Baladi Mawaal, Ahmad ’Adawia, to understand the depth of the Baladi soul. Here is one of Ahmad ’Adawia’s well-known Mawaweel:
Rahou’l Habayeb


Rahou’l Habayeb, Ba, alhum ‘aam wi tani. Gone are the loved ones, now for almost a year or two.

Rabtin al Bu’ad walla walla rag’in tani. Do they insist on such distance or are they coming back?

Rahou’l Habayeb, Raahou, Raahou. Gone are the loved ones, gone, gone.

Leyh ya Habayeb, H’illi zadi w’marartouh. Why, friends, have you soured my good fortune?

Ghash el Dawa Sa’ab al Illah ,w’marartouh. Cheating on the medicine makes the healing difficult. And you have embittered it.

Youmi yigi ‘Agli fi raasi w’youm bey touh. Some days my mind is calm and some days I am lost.

Youoom youoom youom youom! Some days, some days some days!

Wi’l qalb khadouh, W’yumha ma gash tani, Rahou, Rahou’l Habayb. And Heart is gone and from that day on has not returned. Gone, gone are the loved ones.

Here, ’Adawia is speaking of the absence of what was good: friendship, generosity, good will towards each other and, most of all, living with Heart. To Awlad el Balad, these are essentials which can be lost forever in urban life if people do not take care of each other.

In the 1970s Ahmad ’Adawia was the first Ibn el Balad to become an Egyptian pop star. More importantly, he was also a true Baladi artist, well educated in the musical idiom of the Mohammad Ali Street tradition and the Baladi musical repertoire. His songs reflected the sentiments of the Baladi people in their ridicule of the establishment, rebelliousness, and political and social commentary, all disguised in the symbolism of the Baladi vernacular language. The lyrics would speak of the simple life of Baladi women and the ordinary person’s trials and tribulations. Yet in between the lines would be a strong social commentary against corruption and the establishment. Ahmad ’Adawia used the main structure and idiom of the Baladi music of the time. He worked with the best accordionists and musicians, such as Hassan Abul Seoud, Farouq Salamah, Mohammad Asfur, Sami il Babili (a trumpeter) and Samir Surour (saxophonist).

Earlier on in the 1960s the famous Mohammad Taha was one of the first singers to bridge the gap between the Baladi and Sha’abi song and to urbanise and popularise his songs. He was also the first to use the quartertone accordion when it was still unknown in Sha’abi song. ’Adawia’s first major influence was a mawaal artist who followed Taha called Anwar El ‘Askari, who had a simple format and message in his songs. However, it was ’Adawia’s lyricists, Hassan Abu ‘Itman and El Rais Birra, and composers such as Hassan Abul Seoud who propelled him to stardom. El Rais Birra, for example, wrote the lyrics of the famous song “El Sah Endah Embo”, a humorous social commentary on babyhood. For ten full years ’Adawia dominated popular music, and his tapes outsold all his contemporaries. ’Adawia revolutionised the art of the Baladi song and took it to new heights of expression both musically and artistically. He sometimes used tarab instruments, such as the qanun and oud, but always used them within the Baladi structure and original “lawn”, or colour, of the music. In other words, he never tried to create classical music with his songs as a way of climbing the ladder to acceptance in higher society, as some musicians do today. ’Adawia’s songs always spoke to the common man and woman, but despite this his tape sales cut across all class barriers.

Other singers who also made their name in the city but who remained within the Sha’abi musical structure and tradition without moving to the Baladi form were the famous Sha’abi singer Metqal Qenawi Metqual, of the Musicians of the Nile, and a number of female singers from the Fallahin Delta region, or “Fallahin Bahri”, such as Fatmah Sarhan, Gamalat Shiha, Khadra Mohammad Khidr, Fatma Eid and many others also work within the true Sha’abi, Sa’idi idiom using the traditional musical ensemble of rababah, arghul, tablah baladi (a large drum played with a stick), salameyah and mizmar.

Today, many popular singers attempt to follow in the footsteps of ’Adawia. They are generally referred to as Sha’abi singers, meaning popular singers of rural origin. Their music is very simplistic, the rhythms are very basic, and the lyrics do not express any great depth of meaning. The musical instruments they use may be anything from the accordion to the classical violin to the mizmar, in a mixture of styles. This recent use of the word Sha’abi for pop singers confuses them with the real Sha’abi singer who works within the Upper Egyptian (Sa’idi) and Fallahi (farming community) musical traditions. In one of his Mawaweel, ’Adawia speaks of the fast age of the trendy popular singer:

Ya di Zamman ili kitrit feeh il Mughanawatiah. Oh what an age, when singers are so abundant they come a dime a dozen.

Fi nas bit ‘ul Ah, bas il Ah mish hiya. Some sing their “Aah”, but it’s not the same, the Ah is no longer an Aah!”
Ruh El Fuad

Ruh El Fuad is an important and unique Bint el Balad singer. She is a fine artist from true Baladi roots who made her name performing at urban weddings and in the Moulid, first in Alexandria then in Cairo. (See Hilal Dance News No.10 for Ruh el Fuad’s story.) Ruh’s great command of her song and the versatility of her voice show that her artistic life has given her enormous depth of experience and the opportunity to expand her country-based song into the musically sophisticated urban song and develop her own unique qualities in her art. Ruh’s speciality is the Mawaal, and its essential rendition “Ya leili ya Eini”, “Oh my night, oh my eye”, a Blues-like phrase which the vocalist uses to flow through the highs and lows of vocal expression. Ruh is an expert in this type of Mawaal, revealing great skill in the intricate way in which she uses her vocal modulations, giving a depth of emotion which goes beyond the simple meaning of the words. Her Mawaal is usually followed by a song which epitomises the life of Bint el Balad. Here is one of Ruh’s Mawaweel, which was featured in the programme Spirit of the Heart, in which she toured with the Hilal Dance Company in 1997-2001.

Ya Eini, Ya leili Ya leili, Yaaa Leil. Oh my night, oh my eye.

Yaaaa Leil! Oooh my night!

Tool ma lisan il hilw Yerfa’ min Imit Ahlu. As long as the tongue is sweet, it raises the astuteness of its owner.

Asl il lisan il Radi bi il min Ahl. Likewise, a bad tongue diminishes the respect of its owner.

Arib ma ‘andush adab gharib ma bin ahlu. One who is ill-mannered becomes a stranger in his own family.

Tool mal kamal sikitak, timlik ulum il naas As long as completeness and truth is your way, you will win the hearts of people.

Ya ma gharib, bil adab sabahu el gami’ ahlu. Oh, how often a well-mannered stranger is later accepted by all as part of the family.

Here Ruh is expressing the true sentiments of the Baladi code of conduct: “what you say and how you use words reflects your true character.” Also, the song raises the question of what kind of person may be truly accepted in the family (in the Baladi community).
The Rural ’Ashrah Baladi
At the heart of the complex and diverse Baladi musical domain of the cities lies the Taqasim Baladi repertoire, or the “’Ashrah Baladi”, meaning a “musical round of Baladi”. This is an improvisational repertoire based on clearly defined sections governed by the mood changes and particular expressions of both musicians and dancer. This musical idiom was developed around the expertise and demands of the dancer. It first began in the countryside, when musicians would be playing, for example, at a wedding, or “farah”, using the Sha’abi range of instruments: mizmar, tablah baladi, rababah and flute, or salameyah. The “fitwah”, or strong man and protector of the village, would be moved by the sad and soulful melodies such as “Ya rab Tobah” in the Taqasim Hor, a solo improvisation led by rababah or mizmar. He would then start stepping with defined legwork while holding the “assayah”, a long staff. The musicians would follow him with the slow rhythmic beat of the Wahdah el Kibirah interlaced with melodies from songs such as “Amint Bilah”, “Hassan ya khol el ginainah” and others. Here the dancer would express his skill, presence, beauty of line and, most of all, his “shahama”, meaning nobility and audacity, showing himself to be a true Ibn el Balad. While the Taqasim Hor would generate “aah, aah” utterances of appreciation from the audience, the Wahdah el Kibirah would be responded to with “aywah aywah ya fitwah ya gada’a!”, “Yes, yes, oh fitwah, oh gada’a!” At a signal from the dancer, who at this point would lay down his staff and tie his shoulder scarf around his hips, the Tet would begin, a fast rhythmic section using baladi or maqsum rhythms in which musicians and dancer together would display their virtuosity. The mizmar or flute would lead this section while the dancer worked with faster steps using legs, hips and shoulders, interspersed with jumps and hops. The musicians would join in by weaving melodies around the Tet in the “Ingerarah” section, which means “pulling” or “stretching” the Tet. The Tet and Ingerarah would show the height of the performers’ skill, while by now the audience would be clapping and shouting joyfully. The family of the bride and groom or other members of the audience would possibly join in the dancing at this point. When the dancer felt it was time to finish, he would signal an “Afflah”, or finish, which would slowly wind the music down to a stop, or he would give a signal with his movements for a quick and decisive rhythmic one, two, three, stop. Songs by the “mughanni”, or Sha’abi singer, would follow to continue the festivities. Today, this tradition only survives in a few isolated rural communities in the El Minya and Luxor regions.
The Urban ’Ashrah Baladi

From the beginning of the twentieth century to around the 1920s and 1930s Egyptian music and art underwent a great transformation which reflected the drive for modernisation and westernisation which began with Egypt’s khedives from Mohammad Ali (1804-1848) to Isam’il (1863-1879) and continued during the British occupation up to the 1920s. These westernised influences have persisted until today. During the period from the late 1800s to the beginning of the1900s, Egypt witnessed a prolific introduction of western musical forms and instruments, including Italian opera, jazz, military brass bands, Latin forms such as the rumba and samba, and western classical musical theory, which was now taught in Cairo’s music conservatoires. During all this change, no formal school was given to Baladi music, nor was it ever recognised by the establishment. Baladi musical traditions continued to rely on the oral tradition of the entertainer families of Mohammad Ali Street, and its platforms for training were the coffee houses, weddings and the Moulid. Because of this separation, Baladi music progressed at its own pace, keeping close to its traditional roots, and innovation grew within the form without compromising its true Baladi character. For example, the instruments of jazz, such as the saxophone, the clarinet and the trumpet, were integrated by the musicians to give a new sound in Baladi, never to create or borrow a new structure or idiom.
When the tradition of the rural ’Ashrah Baladi moved to the city through the Baladi wedding, it naturally began to transform. What was once a simple dance for the hero of the village became a complex musical idiom in the coffee houses of Cairo and Alexandria. Around Mohammad Ali Street, the repertoire began to expand in expression as a result of the introduction of urban instruments such as the doff, the darbukah, or tablah, and, of course, the accordion, which was converted by the musicians to quartertone to enable them to express the eastern qualities of the music. Furthermore, the Taqasim Baladi began to evolve to accommodate the female dancer, first the ’Almah and then the urban Ghaziah (the single form of Ghawazi) from the 1930s to the 1950s. Around this time, the female dancer began to express her power and femininity in a new section of the ’Ashrah Baladi called the “’Awadi”, a slow, soulful and sweet melody punctuated with rhythmic stops called “Sakaat”. With the original masters of the quartertone accordion throughout the 1940s and 1950s, who included Sayyed Qur Qur and Abdo Asfur, and later exponents from the same school including El Sheikh Taha, Farouq Salamah, Ahmad Hamoudah and Mustafa Hamidou, the Baladi Taqasim became a much more expanded repertoire with great complexity, sophistication and depth of expression. It can be argued that by the 1960s and 1970s the Baladi Taqasim repertoire had exceeded itself and gone beyond the abilities of the dancers of those decades. With the arrival of the great master of the accordion Hassan Abul Seoud in the 1970s, and others such as Faruq Mohammad Hassan and el Gamal el Shaghir, the Baladi dance repertoire was never the same again. Singers such as ’Adawia excelled with the support of Abul Seoud’s innovative playing. Abul Seoud was ahead of his time with his virtuoso playing, and his progressive style gave the Taqasim Baladi a masculine, raw feel which was both sensitive and heartfelt. Throughout all this innovation, Hassan Abul Seoud remained true to the Taqasim Baladi repertoire and never compromised its structure - a true Ibn el Balad! Hassan Abul Seoud is still alive and well today, but only composes music for film and television. Sadly, the art of Baladi is no longer in demand in today’s music market. Fortunately, during the 1970s and part of the 1980s, Abul Seoud recorded some of his great pieces on record and tape. For Hilal Dance, this has been a great asset.




This article was written from my own knowledge and my research over the years, and it was also supported by material from:

“A Trade Like Any Other” by Karin van Niewkerk, University of Texas Press, 1995

“Baladi Women of Cairo” by Evelyn A Early,

“Egypt 1798 to 1952” by J C B Richmond, Methuen & Co Ltd, 1977

Most of all, many thanks to Ibrahim el Minyawi for providing valuable information on Baladi music and its artists, information which has never been published in books.

Also, my thanks to El Sheikh Taha, a master of the original school of Baladi, for his valuable input on the “’Ashrah Baladi”.

Copyright, Suraya Hilal/ Hilal Art Foundation.