"Ebda' Men Gedid" - Start Again, From Anew
In recent years, I've lost my way, dreams slowly fading, little in life turning out how I wanted to—but the Egyptians remind us that the sun rising each day is a chance to "Start Again, From Anew"
In 1977 Coptic (Christian) Egyptian artist and music composer Hany Shenoda started the band “El Massrieen”, or The Egyptians, a somewhat hidden jewel of our people, blending Funk, Disco, Pop, and Jazz, all in Arabic. The bands’ founders and lyrics were greatly influenced by Nobel Laurette, and one of Egypts foremost thinkers and writers on society, poverty, and what binds us—a beloved soul of our people, the late Naguib Mahfouz.
I’m a pretty chaotic person, so answering the question that Baba (my dad) and 3mo (uncle, baba’s brother) have been asking me of “how did you find this??” is hard. But the last few years I have been diving deep into Egyptian writing, politics, art, and most importantly for me as a musician, music! I believe so much of music is spiritual. El Massrieen were different, they embodied a type of radical hope that I am drawn to, while also grooving and pushing the boundaries of contemporary Egyptian and global music at the time. So I immediately sent a link of my favorite track to Baba (my dad), and not surprisingly, El Massrieen are one of Baba’s favorite groups, who he listened to as a young adult.
While I’m an immigrant who was born in Cairo, I immigrated at 5, so I actually don’t know how to read or write Arabic, and my speech is pretty elementary, but I can understand well. Any formal, fus7a, religious, academic, or political Arabic though, you done lost me. What I need is the Arabic of uneducated common folk, who grew up far from the city, speaking colloquial, slang Arabic, like most of my fathers family— who like Teta (my great grandma), Insaf Aziz, have for generations dedicated their lives, service, and ministry to the poor of Egypt, advocating for the most marginlized of society.
El Massrieen were able to bring the message, spirit, life, and ministry of my family and people to life, in the form that I connect with most, and move me to action—sharing the music, putting in playlists, and now, writing.
Between 2020-2023, I have really lost my way, but more importantly, my family’s and peoples way. I have become what I have spoken out against: arrogant, reactive, closed off, tunnel visioned on centering my work on short term proclamations of how to be “on the right side of history”. I use a language that doesn’t connect with those who are most in need of good news and support to change their conditions. I am defensive to most critiques. I assume bad faith to those even closest to me who have my best interests in mind. I see the “bad” in people not as opportunities for growth or learning, but instead as a chance to show how right I am. Most days, I spiral through these thoughts and practices, further destabilizing and disempowering me from taking any productive action to change the parts of me and this world I really don’t like.
I’m hard on myself. We’ve collectively gone through it the last decade, some more than others. More recently for me, it’s been the last 5 or so years. Since 2020, most aspects of my life have deteriorated, changed for the worse, or put simply, this is not how I thought things would be at 33: I started an unfunded PhD in 2020 around some of the US’s most controversial issues, prisons, public health, drugs, mental health, and homelessness—unsupported, ridiculed, viewed as “crazy”, and false promises of funding left me in a terrible dark place. Fellow students and tenured professors talking poorly about me behind my back. I was told I am a “ticking time bomb”. I unintentionally “lost” 35 pounds due to how broke I was. Worked as an Uber driver on the West Side of LA while holding a bachelors in Neuroscience and Masters in Public Health, and being flown out to ivy league law schools to give lectures. My mental heath worse than it ever was. Pushed friends away. Didn’t ask for help, and yelled at a lot of people. My family has also been going through it these last few years—My father lost hours at his job during the pandemic, many dreams seeming more and more harder to pursue. Momma, who is healthcare worker, lived through an extremely stressful and taxing time as the pandemic continues. While all of that was happening, my one and only beloved brother, who’s 35 years old, had a total of 3 life threatening strokes in 1 year—I was the first responder for 2 of them. Lost my aunt in Egypt, and an uncle here. The list goes on..
This isn’t the first time that I reflect on how long these last years have been. I don’t think I’m alone in this—while many have been able to find their way “back” to.. something, many of us feel stuck. What am I stuck in? It’s some combination of regret, confusion, shame, rage, isolation, and not feeling connected or rooted to anyone or thing in a meaningful way, to give me a reason to plan for a future, or be excited about “things to come.” When a new days starts, my mind immediately goes to the worst of the last few years and the worst of how I came out of it. A prison of my own making.
For the last 5 years I have spent time with those incarcerated in America’s prisons, or who were recently released. Sometimes it is through classes, writing letters, visitations, court visits and support, learning as they present their work at conferences, or through mutual healing circles. I suspect I will be communicating with you what these beautiful people have continued to teach and show me for the rest of my life. But for now, if there’s one thing their lives and our relationships have taught me over these years, it’s that there is nothing you could ever do, no time or distance, distortion from who you were or wanted to be—that can’t be transformed and healed through a committed loving community.
If you really care and are actively working to make the world a better place, there’s no way around it, a lot of our efforts did not materialize in the way we hoped or set out to do. I talk with many comrades and friends who are in a similar place. A feeling of defeat, hopelessness, uselessness, and just trying to get through each day. But what if we set out to do the wrong thing?
I wonder what El Massrieen set out to do in Egypt in 1977. Whatever it was, I’m so so grateful for what they created. I’m grateful for how their music has kept me afloat the last few months while I wake up early in the morning pacing around pondering existential questions. I’m grateful for how their music has helped me connect with my Father, Uncle, and other relatives in ways I have never been able to. Grateful for how their music has reminded me that a lot of what we are doing might not be for this exact moment, people, or consciousness. I now wonder who will be grateful for the struggles that I, and we, stayed committed to, 30 years from now…
So why keep struggling or striving? Why wake up in the morning and “start’ anything that tries to make the world, or dang, your block or circle, a better place, when our dreams seem so far away, and things are so awful? El Massrieen tells us, that even though things are really hard, seem hopeless, and you don’t see a way forward—the sun rising in the morning calls us to: “Ebda’ Men Gedid!” (Start Again, From Anew!)
