Alwan, Beethoven Music of Khuzestan | Fars news

Fars news; Hanan Salemi: The tails of the horses were getting shorter every day and the men of Abdul Khan village were in trouble! “Who brought this calamity on these closed tongues?” The sheikh gathered his robe and put his hand on the horse’s short tail: “He did not intend to steal; I’m sure!” Everyone stared at each other in surprise. It was as if the sheikh had taken his joke! Breaths were numbered and heads were constantly spinning: “As it is not possible, Sheikh, we must make a serious decision; No?”

The sheikh shook his head several times in approval and stared at the ground: “It is magic! A witch has been found who cuts the tails of horses to enchant us! “Go and read this one to see if anyone can be found to cancel it or not.” But the sheikh did not know that this little witch was Alwan al-Shu’a, the same teenager from their own village who was suddenly turned into a great sorcerer by a strange grief! A witch who needed a horse’s tail to show her magic and no one could cancel it!

The magic of nature

Alwan ran back to the crowd and towards the grove; He did not like the name of the sorcerer and this hatred was heavy on his little heart, but he had to find a way to translate the professions of his soul, a way other than language, script and word! His chest was dry from the salinity of the sweat veins like wood on tension; He covered his forehead with the sleeve of sweat and bent over the tin can: “Alvan must shout, he must!” The girl next door walked through the grove with her fingernails, realizing that the fires were rising from Alwan’s grave, but she loved reading the poem so much that she did not want to tell the sheikh her displeasure and throw him out of sight.

Alwan climbed sharply from the palm and after dropping the leaves, picked some of the best ones and crumpled them on the tin again; The sticks and leaves crawled between his fingers and moved, scrambling and scrambling and scrambling; Until finally that magical horse hair bag did its job and sounded like a tin! The little girl pulled herself back and bit her finger, but Alwan, indifferent to all the universes that surrounded her in that small geography, floated in a sense of joy and fear, bursting the waves of her chrysanthemums in the air, suddenly the world calmed down and the grove embraced The strange warm notes of the newborn music shook!

Robabeh

The horses’ tails rose and the cups turned brown again, and everyone remembered that one day they had gathered together to draw their lines for the sorcerer who wanted to enchant them. Alwan took refuge in the grove every day and embraced the soul with the hand-made instrument of Rababa, shaking his soul from the sufferings of the world in the ups and downs of the poems that smelled of epic, but this magic was so strong that it inadvertently disturbed the imagination of all villagers and became hypnotized. The search for this song slowed down their steps.

Mudif was full of eyes! Eyes dancing anxiously between Alwan’s strange instrument and his mouth. The sheikh, who had tears in his eyes, put his hand on Alwan’s head and, with all the greatness he had in the eyes of his people, knelt on the ground beside him in astonishment, as if all the words of his heart were summed up in his sentences, because when he said, Everyone cried: “What did you do, Alwan?” “The combination of palm and tin leaves and wood and horse tail that should not disturb us so much, my son!”

بتهوون خوزستان

Perhaps Alwan, when he was mixing the tones of Hayavi, Al-Baniya, Al-Arabiya and Al-Sharifiya around the year one thousand two hundred and a few AH and in their village and made a song of nature with his hand-made robe, did not know that one day he would be registered as a national of Khuzestan.

Perhaps even if they had shown him these days, he would not have believed that the people, not the village, the city, the province, but the world, would give up so much for this innovative style of his music, which is a fusion of earth and sky, and all the way to the UAE, Iraq, Bahrain and Kuwait. To be called Alvaniyeh in his honor, Alvaniyeh of Ahvaz.

“I was studying in Syria,” said Yahya Jaberi, singer and head of the Iraqi National House of Music, in an article in Al-Hayat magazine, published in Syria. Some Ahwazi students sang a song that was very beautiful to me, but it did not sound like any melody in Iraq or even other Arab countries. I asked them what tone it was. “They said this is a tone called Alwani, which is known as the creator of that Alwani.”

For years now, Alwan al-Shu’a’i has rested in his eternal dormitory in the old paradise of Ahvaz, but his Alvani style, in which he invites people with epic and moral poems to courage, mercy, patience, forgiveness, mercy, fighting the oppressor and defending the oppressed. He could still hold hearts. Does it make any difference whether we understand the old words of this old man or not? His rabbinic magic fascinates even those who are not familiar with the Arabic language! It is enough for them to leave their souls in Alvaniyeh for a few minutes, then they will kneel politely like Sheikh next to the tomb of this Arab artist from Khuzestan: “What did you do, Alwan? “The combination of palm leaves and tin and wood and the horse’s tail that should not disturb us so much, old man!”

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