Rappers rap in Hebrew and Arabic

[Harold F. Schiffman]

>>From the NYTimes, October 18, 2005

Palestinian Rappers Paint a Gritty Picture
By SHADI RAHIMI

HIS greeting echoed through the dim, sweltering downstairs of the Alphabet
City bar, Climax. And the surprising reply boomed even louder. When Tamer
Nafar, a member of the Palestinian hip-hop trio Dam, said, "Salaam
aleikum," the mostly white audience shouted back without pause, "Aleikum
salaam!" It was the hip-hop group's first show in the United States, held
recently just as Ramadan had started. During the performance, Mr. Nafar,
26, wryly noted the irony of the bar setting by pointing out that some
people had responded to his Muslim greeting of "Peace be upon you" by
raising their drinks.

"I'm sorry, we will kill the joy," he said. "This is about Palestine. It
is already dead over there." He then launched into rapid-fire rhymes in
Arabic and Hebrew. Most in the audience did not understand one word. But
it didn't seem to matter. They loudly cheered the rapping: "I still see
the occupation / Reaching his hand / Not for peace / Not for equality /
Not to mend between us / But to suffocate me."

Mr. Nafar, his brother, Suhell Nafar, 21, and the third member, Mahmood
Grere, 22, had traveled to New York City from Lod, an impoverished Israeli
town of Palestinian and Jewish residents. The group, influenced by rappers
like Public Enemy, KRS-One and the late Tupac Shakur, performs songs that
address the obstacles faced by Palestinians who are Israeli citizens,
including poverty and discrimination. "We are Israelis and we are Arabs,
and we don't belong anywhere," Mr.  Nafar said later in an interview. In
Arabic the group's name, Dam, means immortal; in Hebrew it means blood.

His hope is to teach Americans about the reality of their lives, Mr. Nafar
said, and although he was not rapping in English, he knew from the crowd's
reaction that he had succeeded. "When we first heard American hip-hop, we
didn't understand it, but it touched us," he said. "Now we're doing the
same." It was the passion of the group's delivery that moved Casey Brown,
a 27-year-old Brooklyn resident, who did not understand the lyrics. And it
was the political and social messages that spoke to Mona Mady, 21, who was
able to grasp a few lines in Arabic about women's rights.

For Mohammad Ali, a 25-year-old of Palestinian ancestry who works as a
doorman in Manhattan, the show confirmed the rise of Arabic hip-hop, which
Mr. Nafar refers to as "the CNN of Palestine," a play on the rapper Chuck
D's famous remark, "Rap is CNN for black people." "We're coming out," Mr.
Ali declared. "Now there is no stopping us."



Copyright 2005 The New York Times
 http://www.nytimes.com/2005/10/18/nyregion/18ink.html?pagewanted=print