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نعى اليم ...... سودانيز اون لاين دوت كم تحتسب الزميل فتحي البحيري فى رحمه الله
وداعاً فتحي البحيري
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 Re: في ذكري رحيلك الاول دندنة بالعود الذي عشقته ياحمزة علاءالدين (Re: طلال عفيفي)
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اخى ابوبكر -بغياب حمزة انطفا قنديل متوهج وسكت صوت شجى طالما صدح على امتداد ما يقارب الخمسة عقود فى سماء الفن النوبى فى شدو يلامس شقاف القلوب ويستدعى كوامن الشجن القديم فى وجدان وذاكرة النوبيين الجماعية ومن ثم مزاجهم الفنى ..اخترق جدران العالمية السميك بنبرات صوته المزمارى المتهدج وبانامله وهى تعالج اوتار العود فى حنو ورقة لتصدر عنها الحان تدغدغ القلب وتعتصره وبباطن كفه وهو يربت على الطار والدف النوبى المشدود فى ايقاعات تجعل الشرايين تغنج بنشوة سكر صوفى حلال ..
رحمه الله..
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Re: في ذكري رحيلك الاول دندنة بالعود الذي عشقته ياحمزة علاءالدين (Re: abubakr)
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سيتذكرك اصفياء كثيرون يا حمزة رغم ان الدنيا هي الشاغل التي تجعل اهتماماتنا جد شخصية وحيث انك علي قائمة اهتماتنا الشخصية سنتذكرك كما يتذكرك تلميذك وصديقك "يوسف " في مذكراته عنك هنا :
حاشية : شكرا للصديقة التي اشارت الي بهذا العنوان ادناه
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http://www.naturalchant.com/hamza.htm
HAMZA EL DIN 1929 - 2006
A PERSONAL MEMOIR
Photo by Troy Asterwickie
Hamza was my most influential music teacher, but he was far more than that. He was both old friend and Ancient Friend.
I mourn the passing of my old friend, but I still sense the Presence of my Friend. It happened recently, after a spasm of grief, when I suddenly decided to listen to "Escalay" again, for the first time in years ... but mostly it happens in Silence.
I first met Hamza in the Autumn of 1971. Shortly before that, I had been living in California, and had an ardent desire to learn the oud. I was mostly interested in the virtuosic traditions of classical Arabic and Ottoman styles. One day, on Pacifica radio in Berkeley, I heard a long selection from the recording "Al Oud." It was not the type of virtuosic oud playing I thought I was interested in, but it had some quality I had never heard before. As I began to really listen, I was totally captivated. To me, it sounded like a marriage of Black and Arab Africa, a marriage of painful nostalgia and profound joy, and a marriage and counterpoint of voice and instrument like I'd never heard before. Who was this guy?
"Music from Nubia by Hamza El Din," the announcer said tersely. A name which would never leave my memory. Shortly afterward, I was amazed to hear from a musician friend that Hamza El Din lived in the U.S. --- and that he was currently teaching music at the University of Texas at Austin. My home town! A further synchronicity: after months of working survival jobs in Berkeley, I had already been mulling over the prospect of going back to Austin and finally finishing my B.A. degree (in math, not in music). Soon, I packed my bags and left for Austin.
I still have a vivid memory of that first day of class in September. It was hot, as usual. People ambled in and sat down casually. The bell rang, but students were still filtering in, none of them in a hurry. Apparently the teacher was late. No problem. This was still very much the psychosphere of the sixties... I looked around. A few students were actually smoking cigarettes in the classroom (the smell of a joint lingered faintly out in the corridor). It was a very diverse group. A rainbow gathering in terms of ethnicity and skin color. Many obvious Mideasterners. Mostly men, but several women too. Almost all the women seemed to be Persian. A tiny cluster of rather bewildered-looking "frat rats" as we hippies called them. Very wide range of ages also. One black guy sitting over to my right attracted my attention. He looked very hip, smoking his cigarette. So casual and relaxed, in his brightly colored, but elegant shirt and sandals. Curly long hair and beard, but different from the usual Afro-frizz. Indeterminate age --- a bit older than me (I was 28), probably 35-40 years old. Must be a really cool jazz musician, I thought with satisfaction (I was a jazz fan in those days). Then, when all the students seemed to have arrived, this guy stood up, walked over to close the door, welcomed us, and introduced himself in a thick, lilting accent. Then he sat down behind the teacher's desk. For the first time I looked deeply into his eyes. I'd never seen eyes like that. They seemed like windows, reaching back into a long tunnel of shadow and light, into an unimaginably distant past. Strange, yet startlingly familiar. I felt this so strongly, I remember wishing I were a painter, so I could attempt his portrait.
Hamza's approach to teaching music was anything but formal. At first I found it frustrating, and rather disorganized. You never knew what he might talk about next. One day he would be chalking out modes and musical terms on the blackboard. Another day he would decide to spend the whole class period telling us stories about village life in Nubia, before the Deluge: the cultural and ecological catastrophe of the Aswan Dam. A calamity which literally drowned the Nubian way of life, and destroyed a culture which had existed at least since the time of the Pharaohs --- yet a calamity which also allowed me to meet this exile who would change my life, like so many others who encountered him. This became evident even in his class at UT. Many rich and otherwise improbable friendships were formed among us through his influence. Because of Hamza, I met my lifelong friend Geoffrey von Menken, classical scholar, musiciologist, and master luthier, who made the superb oud I still play today, my most precious material possession.
I remember being impressed by one of his stories about how Nubians handled theft --- a phenomenon extremely rare in his village, Toshka. People never locked their houses. They didn't even have locks, though they had poor and prosperous people living together, like villages everywhere. They had no jail. Sometimes people would return home after an absence to find that a sack of rice had disappeared. But no one worried. In a day or so, the person who took it would appear, with an explanation of need, and a promise to pay it back. But on the rare occasions when it became clear that someone had actually stolen something, it also became clear to everyone who the thief was. Somehow, all the villagers knew. And the thief knew that they knew. The punishment? No one would talk to the thief. People deliberately avoided the person. It didn't take long for this punishment to have its effect: either the thief would leave and never return, or (more often) would break into tears and ask forgiveness. Which was always granted, providing the debt was honored.
There were so many other stories! And jokes. About life, about music, about dervishes, Islam and other religions, the effect of modern times... it would take a book for me to do justice to Hamza's stories. Finally, I began to understand that telling stories was an essential element of his teaching of music.
As well as the group classes, I signed up for individual oud classes with him (the drumming lessons took place in the group classes). Formally, I studied with him for almost two years. I learned to play and improvise in the maqamat (sort of like modes, or ragas) of Arabic classical music. But I could have learned that elsewhere. The precious thing he gave me was a radically different approach to music. How to sum it up? "Spiritual" has become a bit of a cliché. But I don't know if I can find a better expression. I'd been encouraged by other musical teachers who perceived some talent in me, but Hamza encouraged me in a totally new way. He deeply perceived how much my playing tended to come from the head and the hands more than from the heart, and he gently urged me to always go back to my own heart, and to the heart of the music. To find deep relaxation, in all my body, even in the midst of intense activity. And to never underestimate the value of simplicity! He also told me that whether I am playing repertoire, improvising, or composing, I should try to remember that I am only the instrument. God is the real musician. It has taken me decades to digest all this, and the process is still far from complete.
In the many years since our first meeting, our friendship became like a diamond in my life. Not that I got to see the diamond all that often. Sometimes years would go by without any contact between us, any news from him. He wasn't much of a correspondent. Once when I happened to be in San Franciso in the late '70s, he suddenly called me up and invited me to join his group onstage with the Grateful Dead, clapping the complex 48-beat cycle of the Nubian "Nagrisad" to Hamza's tar drum, singing, and Mickey Hart's percussion. It was the Dead's last concert at the old Winterland palace. Then I didn't see him for a long time, and heard he'd moved to Japan. But we always connected again, sooner or later, somewhere or other. Everytime we talked on the phone, or met (in Austin, in California, and in more recent years when he played in Paris, where I now live with my wife, singer Catherine Braslavsky) his magnificent smile, warm embrace, and teasing jokes made it seem as if no time had passed at all. It was in Paris, when he was playing in "The Persians" by Peter Sellars, that we first met his wife, Nabra. She's Japanese, but her name is Nubian, and means "pure gold" --- she has been a delight to get to know in the years since. Few people realize how important Nabra has been to all of us who love Hamza and his music.
Because we live in a time of unprecedented evolutionary crisis, I'd like to add another half-forgotten memory, which I hadn't thought about for years, until I began to write this. It must have been sometime in the mid-70's. Hamza had been visiting Austin for a concert, and I think he stayed over for a visit and to give a lecture. He, Geoffrey, and I were having supper at a sandwich shop. We were talking about some of the esoteric teachings that were beginnng to proliferate in those times --- Sufi, Zen, Tibetan, Yoga, etc... All three of us had just read the first Seth books by Jane Roberts, and were discussing that extraordinary material. After a reflective pause, Hamza said:
"I wonder why all these teachings, which used to be so rare, are now being published for everyone? It's amazing to me. So many bookstores have them. Why is this happening now?"
An answer came immediately to my mind. In those days I was beginning to be deeply concerned about ecology, and rather pessimistic. I told him I thought it was because the planetary situation is so urgent. "We are on the verge of destroying our planet, and we need all the wisdom we can get." And then I launched into a litany of the latest statistical horrors and projections. A long silence. Then I looked at Hamza. It was as if fire were coming out of his eyes. He spoke with quiet intensity, and a lot of anger:
"No! This thing you call planet is the mother of life. They will not destroy her. SHE will destroy them! The Earth will rise up and destroy all their technology and all their cities if she has to! "
I had never seen Hamza so fierce. Nor had I heard him speak about the Earth in this way. Geoffrey and I were silenced.
Then, as I recall, he quietly added something like this: "It is only by the mercy of God, er-Rahman, er-Rahim, that it hasn't happened yet."
Last, but far from least: I learned something precious and inexpressible about the tasawwuf, the Sufi Way, from Hamza. Not that he pretended to be a Sufi teacher. It was what he manifested, what he incarnated, more than what he said. Once, he told me: "If you ever hear anyone say 'I am a Sufi', it means they're not." Some years later, I became deeply attracted to the books of Idries Shah. I mentioned to Hamza that I had learned from Shah's writings that the word "faqir" is originally an Arabic word, meaning simply "poor person." And that the concept became greatly distorted in India, with all the strange antics we associate with "fakirs". I was rather excited about this discovery. He agreed that the Indian version is a weird distortion. But he laughed a lot at my excitement about the etymology. "Did you know, Yusuf, that I'm a faqir? Yes, it's kind of a family name. People don't call me Hamza El Din at home, they call me Hamza Faqir."
The faqir ideal is said to be this: never to look up to anyone whose social status is above yours, and never to look down on anyone whose social status is below yours. Hamza lived and breathed this ideal.
I feel grief, and joy, in writing this memoir .... I dedicate it to all who loved Hamza and his music, and most especially to his beloved Nabra....
as-salaamu'aleikum ... shalom aleichem... Peace to all
May all beings awaken to the Truth of who they are ...
Yusuf
(as Hamza always called me.)
Website of Hamza El Din: one of the original pioneers of what is now called "world music."
(عدل بواسطة abubakr on 05-23-2007, 09:58 AM)
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Re: في ذكري رحيلك الاول دندنة بالعود الذي عشقته ياحمزة علاءالدين (Re: ابو جهينة)
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Hamza El Din -- 1929-2006
Hamza El Din, the celebrated Nubian musician whose rich fusion of Arabic and Nubian sounds entranced audiences worldwide and inspired colleagues like the Grateful Dead and Kronos Quartet, died Monday, May 22nd, at a Berkeley hospital from a gallbladder infection. He was 76.
A longtime Oakland resident, Mr. El Din was a subtle master of the oud, the Arabic precursor of the lute, and the tar, the single-skinned drum that originated in Nubia, the ancient upper Nile land that was largely submerged after the Aswan Dam was built in the 1960s. Mr. El Din sought to preserve his native culture, singing Nubian songs and stories in a warm, reedy voice that merged with his instrumental overtones to create music of quiet intensity and beauty.
"It was mesmerizing. Hypnotic and trancelike,'' said Grateful Dead drummer Mickey Hart. "Hamza taught me about the romancing of the drum. His music was very subtle and multilayered.
"He was a deep listener,'' added Hart, who practiced daily for six years to master the tar Mr. El Din gave him. Sometimes the music they played together was so soft "we could hardly hear ourselves. He'd just suck you into this vortex, and all of a sudden what was quiet seemed loud in its intensity. He suspended time.''
Mr. El Din, who created music for "The Black Stallion" and other films, first played with the Dead in '78 at Egypt's Great Pyramid of Giza and joined the band a few months later at San Francisco's Winterland with a group of Sufi drummers. He was a serenely joyous man whose glowing black face was framed by his flowing white garb and headdress.
"He was sweet, gentle soul,'' said Hart, who recalled that night at Winterland when Mr. El Din had the whole crowd clapping the 12-beat rhythm of the Nubian number "Olin Arageed.'' "If you took the time to visit his sonic universe, he'd welcome you with open arms. It was a joyous experience. Jerry (Garcia) just loved to play with him.''
So did Joan Jeanrenaud, the cellist who first met Mr. El Din in the 1980s when she was a member of the Kronos Quartet. It was in Tokyo, where he was living and teaching at the time. He played his signature composition "Escalay: The Water Wheel'' for the group. "It was a heart-touching experience,'' said Jeanrenaud, who played with Mr. El Din many times, as a member of Kronos -- which featured "Escalay'' on its hit 1992 recording "Pieces of Africa'' -- on Mr. El Din's discs and on her own.
"He put himself into the music so completely that when he played, it would take you away to another place. You went on a journey to this very peaceful, emotional, beautiful place. He was a mentor to many of us.''
Born in Toskha, Nubia, in Egypt, Mr. El Din began playing oud while studying engineering at the University of Cairo. He also studied at the King Fouad Institute of Middle Eastern Music. Learning of plans to build the Aswan Dam, he quit his engineering job in Cairo and set off to preserve Nubian music before the people were dispersed. With his oud, an instrument unknown in Nubia, he traveled from village to village by donkey, gathering songs. He was playing in traditional Arabic style; it wasn't until his music acquired a distinctly Nubian flavor that it caught on.
"One day I felt the oud had a Nubian accent,'' Mr. El Din told The Chronicle in 1995. "I played for people in my village and they were mesmerized. I knew I had something.''
He had studied Western music at the Academy of Santa Celia in Rome, expanding his sense of harmony and musical form. After moving to the United States, he taught at various universities and then settled in the Bay Area. At Mills College, he met the esteemed composer Terry Riley, who learned something about understatement from a comment Mr. El Din made to him about singing softly.
"Through very simple means, Hamza could create a spell on an audience. His music spoke directly to the heart,'' said Riley, whose groundbreaking minimalist music has some of the same hypnotic quality. "Audiences leaned in toward his music," he said. "It wasn't in their faces.''
Riley introduced Mr. El Din to Kronos. "He opened doors for a lot of people, doors between different forms of music,'' said Kronos violinist and founder David Harrington. "We lost a great musician and a great man.''
Mr. El Din is survived by his wife, Nabra, of Oakland. A musical tribute is pending.
Jesse Hamlin, SF Chronicle - Friday, May 26, 2006
منقول من موقع حمزة علاء الدين
(عدل بواسطة ابو جهينة on 05-23-2007, 09:36 AM)
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Re: في ذكري رحيلك الاول دندنة بالعود الذي عشقته ياحمزة علاءالدين (Re: abubakr)
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"كان رجلا -جنتمالا- فريد في نوعه لا يتكرر "
He was a complete gentleman of a kind we
won't see again."
حاشية : شكرا لاخي فوزي صالح الذي اتحفني بهذا المقال
اشير الي ان الصديق المرحوم حمزة لم يمنح جواز سفر مصري حسب علمي الي ان رحل والاشارة في المقال الي "مصريته اجتهاد الكاتب ...
__________________________________
Quote: Egyptian musician who fused Nubian and Middle Eastern
influences
Jon Lusk
Tuesday May 30, 2006
The Guardian
In the early 1960s the Egyptian musician and composer
Hamza El Din, who has died aged 76 following
complications after surgery, moved to Italy. There he
studied western music and classical guitar at Rome's
Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia and later in
Milan. While in Italy, he met the American student
Geno Foreman, who passed on a tape of Hamza's music to
his friend Joan Baez. In 1962 this precipitated
Hamza's move to New York City and, in 1964, the
recording of his Music Of Nubia album for the Vanguard
label as well as his appearance at the Newport Folk
Festival. So began an illustrious musical career.
Hamza possessed a distinctively light touch on the oud
(the 12-stringed instrument at the heart of Arab
classical music), a gentle singing style and a
spiritual philosophy that sprang from his Sufi roots.
There were to be 14 solo albums, the most iconic of
which was Escalay: The Water Wheel (1971). The title
track was later reinterpreted by the Kronos Quartet on
Pieces of Africa (1992), and Hamza performed with them
several times.
He also collaborated with the Grateful Dead,
facilitating their 1978 Egyptian tour through his
association with their percussionist Mickey Hart, who
had just produced Hamza's Eclipse album. That
September they appeared on the same bill at the Great
Pyramid of Giza during a total lunar eclipse. In
addition, Hamza's music featured on several movie
soundtracks and was used by many ballet companies and
in a theatre production.
Neither his family nor the Nubian culture into which
he was born encouraged music as a vocation, but Hamza
was drawn to it after the flooding of his home town of
Toshka, by an expansion of the Aswan dam system,
forced his family to relocate to Cairo in 1934. There,
he first heard the greats of Egyptian classical song
such as Umm Kulthumm and Mohamed Abdalwahab, whose
mighty wails haunted every street, thanks to the new
medium of radio.
He studied electrical engineering at King Fouad
University but later took up the oud at the Popular
University and Ibrahim Shafiq's Institute of Music.
His developing political consciousness found
expression in his music, which he used to draw
attention to the plight of the displaced Nubian
people. He was always adamant about his Nubian
identity and would later be claimed by Nubians on both
sides of the Sudan-Egypt border.
After graduation, he worked for the state railways,
but his passion for music prevailed. He pioneered a
genre that combined the propulsive rhythmic and vocal
elements of Nubian (African) culture with the more
formal aesthetic of Middle Eastern classicism. Then,
after briefly living in Sudan, came the move to Italy
and on to New York. Parallel to his recording and
international touring career, Hamza also taught
ethnomusicology at the universities of Ohio (Athens),
Washington (Seattle) and Texas (Austin).
In 1981 he went to live in Tokyo, beginning a love
affair with Japanese people and their culture, and
teaching as a professor of Nubian music at Tokyo
University. Initially prompted by a comparative study
between the oud and its local relative, the biwa, this
move eventually resulted in several recordings,
participation in TV commercials and the publication of
his autobiography, Journey: As the Nile Flows, in
Japanese. It was also there that he met his wife, who
adopted the Nubian name of Nabra.
He returned intermittently to the US, eventually
settling in the San Francisco Bay area. His album,
Muwashshah (1995) included Gala 2000, a "letter of
apology to the earth" for "our planet's degradation".
On his final album, A Wish (1999), he revisited the
theme of Nubia and its vanishing culture. He
illustrated the CD booklet with his own paintings,
which re-imagined the lands of his childhood, and
lamented their loss in the liner notes.
Hamza was a humble, open-minded man with a warm smile
and a generous spirit. The journalist Ken Hunt
corresponded with him for many years without ever
meeting him, but in 1996, when Hamza heard he was
unable to write after the death of his wife, he
spontaneously sent him a few hundred dollars. As Hunt
recalls, "He was a complete gentleman of a kind we
won't see again."
• Hamza Alla Eddin, musician and composer, born July
10 1929; died May 23 2006, |
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 Re: في ذكري رحيلك الاول دندنة بالعود الذي عشقته ياحمزة علاءالدين (Re: abubakr)
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أخي الحبيب الباشمهندس أبوبكر
ســلام
معذرة لدخولي المتأخر فقد شغلتني ظروف الحياة هنا.
الراحل المقيم الأستاذ حمزة علاءالدين قضى معنا في طوكيو في الثمانينات حوالي عشر سنوات كانت من أمتع أيامنا..كم أبهج أمسياتنا بعزفه الفريد وروحه الطيبة المرحة وإنسانيته المؤثرة.بالرغم من زحمة برامجه كنا تلتقي على الأقل مرتين في الأسبوع عدا الحفلات التي كان يقيمها في المسارح ونحرص على حضورها. وعندما غادرنا إلى أمريكا ترك فراغا كبيرا ، ولما رحل عن دنيانا في مايو من العام الماضي ترك في قلوبنا حزنا مقيما نسأل الله أن يعيننا على تجاوزه.
في يوم السبت الموافق 19 مايو الجاري أقام عدد من أصدقائه ومحبي فنه اليابانيين وعدد من إخوتنا الحلفاويين من جمهورية مصر العربية والسودانيين حفل تأبين في مدينة يوكوهاما.
كتب الأخ الحبيب د. محجوب الباشا ، الذي كنا نلتقي أغلب الوقت بداره العامرة بحضور الراحل حمزة، كتب الكلمة البليغة التالية في منتدى الجالية الأمريكية في واشنطون :-
Quote: الفقيد حمزة علاء الدين... الموسيقار صاحب القضية
نعت صحيفة النيويورك تايمز الموسيقار الكبير الاستاذ حمزة علاء الدين الذي رحل عن دنيانا الفانية بمدينة بيركلي بولاية كاليفورنيا يوم الاثنين 22 مايو الماضي نسأل الله ان يتغمده بواسع رحمته ويلهمنا واهله الصبر والسلوان.
عرف عن الاستاذ حمزة علاء الدين الذي ولد في قرية من القرى النوبية في عام 1929م براعته الفائقة في العزف على العود والطار، وقد قام بتدريس الموسيقى النوبية والعربية في معاهد الولايات المتحدة واليابان وايطاليا. والاستاذ حمزة كان مثالا حيا للمقولة المشهورة «زمار الحي لا يطرب» حيث كان الكثيرون من ابناء الوطن لا يعلمون بوجوده، بينما كان البعض حتى من بين اهل الفن يخلطون بينه وبين قامة سامقة اخرى في هذا المجال هو الاستاذ علاء الدين حمزة.
اكتسب الاستاذ حمزة علاء الدين شهرة واسعة خارج البلاد وبصفة خاصة في الولايات المتحدة التي اتخذ منها وطنا ثانيا قضى فيه جانبا كبيرا من حياته، كما انه اكتسب شهرة في كل من اليابان وايطاليا. ولعل السبب وراء ذلك ان الاستاذ حمزة كان فنانا صاحب قضية سامية نذر لها كل عمره وسخر لها الموهبة التي حباه الله بها، فقد كان مسكونا بحب الثقافة النوبية وكان يرى والحسرة تملأ كيانه أنها في طريقها للانقراض امام الزحف الهادر للثقافة الغالبة في مصر وشمال السودان. وصل الاستاذ حمزة الى القاهرة في اربعينيات القرن الماضي بغرض دراسة الهندسة غير ان هيامه الشديد بالثقافة النوبية جعله يتجه اتجاها اخر عندما ادرك انه يمكن ان يخدم قضية عمره عن طريق الموسيقى والفن.
وكما يحكي بنفسه فانه قد طاف قرى النوبة السفلى والعليا على ظهر حمار ليجمع التراث النوبي خاصة في مجال الموسيقى، وقد كان من اهم اهدافه الحفاظ على اللغة النوبية التي يقول ان استعمالها آخذ في الانحسار بين الشباب النوبي. ويبدو أن جهود الاستاذ حمزة قد اثمرت بدرجة ما في هذا المجال بالذات فقد شهدت السنوات الاخيرة حسب علمي تكوين بعض الجمعيات المنظمة التي تعمل من اجل الحفاظ على اللغة النوبية بصفة خاصة وعلى ثقافة النوبيين بصفة عامة.
كان الاستاذ حمزة كذلك من اكثر المتحمسين لوحدة وادي النيل فقد كان يرى ان مصير السودان مرتبط ارتباطا وثيقا بمصر. وربما كان ذلك هو السبب وراء حقيقة هامة وهي انه من الصعب جدا التفريق بين المكونات السودانية والمصرية في شخصية الاستاذ وهو امر ليس مستغربا بالطبع. ومما سمعته منه انه اصيب بالاحباط الشديد والاكتئاب عندما برزت مشكلة حلايب الى السطح مرة اخرى في بداية التسعينات وأنه ومن فرط انفعاله قام بارسال رسالتين الى كل من الرئيس عمر البشير والرئيس حسني مبارك، غير انه تعمد على حد قوله بأن يرسل رسالة للرئيس مبارك بعنوان القصر الجمهوري بالخرطوم ، بينما ارسل رسالته للبشير على عنوان قصر العروبة في القاهرة تعبيرا عن رفضه التام لما اكتنف الامر من مواجهات بين البلدين الشقيقين. فهو كما كان يقول دائما يرى الصورة الشاملة في العلاقات السودانية المصرية ولا ينشغل كثيرا بالتفاصيل التي يغرق فيها البعض.
التقيت الاستاذ حمزة للمرة الاولى في النصف الثاني من ثمانينات القرن الماضي في العاصمة اليابانية طوكيو. كان الاستاذ قد وصل الى طوكيو متعاقدا مع واحد من اكبر معاهدها لتدريس الموسيقى الاثنية التي بدأت وقتها تكتسب اهتماما متزايدا في اليابان. كان الاستاذ يدرس مادة العود وقد استطاع عبر جهده المتواصل ومثابرته من تدريب العديد من اليابانيين على هذه الآلة العربية. كما ان وجوده في طوكيو كان حافزا لتكوين جمعية محبي آلة العود الذين يربطون بينها وبين الآلة اليابانية المعروفة «بيوا» والتي يقولون انها من آثار الاتصال بين العرب واليابان عن طريق الحرير المعروف. كان ارتباط الاستاذ حمزة بالوسط الفني في اليابان واهتمام الصحافة واجهزة الاعلام بمتابعة نشاطه سلاحا اعلاميا فاعلا استفادت منه السفارة السودانية بطوكيو. وارتباط اهل الفن بالدبلوماسية معروف فقد ظلوا دائما يمثلون وسيلة من أهم وسائل التواصل بين الشعوب، وقد زار اليابان منهم لفترات قصيرة فنانون شهيرون من امثال بشير عباس وعبد العزيز المبارك وعبد القادر سالم وغيرهم من الذين تركوا انطباعا جيدا عن السودان في اوساط المواطنين في تلك البلاد النائية.
اقام الاستاذ حمزة العديد من الحفلات الموسيقية في اكبر المسارح اليابانية ومن بينها المسرح القومي في العاصمة طوكيو وهو من المسارح المعروفة وقد اعتلى خشبته عدد من الفنانين العالميين المشاهير. كان الاستاذ حمزة يقيم حفلاته منفردا احيانا وبصحبة بعض الفنانين اليابانيين احيانا اخرى، ولم يكن عازفا عاديا خاصة على الطار الذي كان له حول عزفه فلسفة ونظريات تسلب ألباب المستمعين عندما يقدمها لهم بلغته الانجليزية السلسة. وكم من حفل حضرته للاستاذ وانتهى بالتصفيق الحاد وكان الكل وقوفا على اقدامهم لمدة طويلة وكأني بهم لا يرغبون في مغادرة المسرح بعد ليلة استمتعوا فيها بالفن الراقي من هذا الفنان العظيم.
استقبلت بمنزلي في واحدة من الليالي عددا من الاصدقاء اليابانيين المهتمين بفنون الشعوب الاخرى، وقررت ان اسمعهم واحدة من اسطوانات الاستاذ حمزة العديدة وقد كان اعجابهم بها كما توقعت بالغا. كان من بين الاغنيات التي اشتملت عليها الاسطوانة اغنية باللغة النوبية، وقد اسقط في يدي عندما طلب بعض الحاضرين ترجمة لها باللغة اليابانية فمعلوماتي عن اللغة النوبية لم تكن تتجاوز معلوماتي عن اللغة الصينية. ومن حسن حظي ان ترجمة الاغنية للغة اليابانية كانت مطبوعة على غلاف الاسطوانة فما كان مني الا ان قرأت الترجمة على ضيوفي والذين ابدوا جميعهم الاعجاب بالمعاني الرقيقة التي احتوت عليها. لم يدرك ضيوفي بالطبع انها كانت المرة الاولى بالنسبة لي ايضا التي استمتع فيها بهذه المعاني الجميلة المكتوبة بلغة من لغات بلادي، ومن عجب ان الوسيط لذلك كان لغة اجنبية هي اللغة اليابانية.
كان الاستاذ حمزة علاء الدين فنانا مرهف الحس وكان يضع اعتبارا خاصا للعلاقات الانسانية فقد كان مجاملا للغاية وقد كانت الفترة التي قضيناها سويا في اليابان فرصة للتعرف على جوانب متعددة من شخصيته المدهشة. كان الاستاذ زاهدا من الطراز الفريد فبالرغم من الصداقة التي ربطت بينه وبين العديد من الفنانين العالميين الا انه كان يعيش حياة تتسم بالبساطة الشديدة وقد كان ذلك مدخله لقلوب اليابانيين الذين عرفوا بحبهم للبساطة. كان هناك جانب آخر هام في حياة الفنان الكبير وهو حبه للنكتة فقد كان يتصف بروح مرحة للغاية وان كانت فكاهته تختلط احيانا بسخرية واضحة وهي سمة ملازمة للعديد من ابناء قبائل شمال السودان النيلية. وقد رأيت كذلك اعتداده الواضح بقوميته والمثال لذلك اصراره على ارتداء الجلابية والعمة خلال الحفلات التي يشارك فيها مهما كانت درجة الحرارة وقد حكى لي مرة انه الغى تسجيلا هاماً مع التلفزيون المصري عندما ابدت المذيعة التي كان من المفترض ان تجري معه اللقاء ملاحظة غير لائقة على زيه السوداني.
نسأل الله ان يشمل الفقيد بواسع رحمته وان ينزله منازل الصديقين والشهداء ويلهم زوجته وأهله الصبر الجميل.. ونأمل ان تجد القضية التي عاش من اجلها الاهتمام اللائق من الدولة ومن ابناء المنطقة، خاصة وان المرحلة الجديدة في تاريخ بلادنا تفتح الابواب واسعة امام التلاقح بين الثقافات المحلية والحفاظ عليها.
د. محجوب الباشا
سفير سابق باليابان
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نسأل المولى عز وجل أن يرحم حمزة ويلهم زوجته وأهله ومحبيه الصبر والسلوان وحسن العزاء (إنا لله وإنا إليه راجعون)
تحــياتي ومودتي.
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Re: في ذكري رحيلك الاول دندنة بالعود الذي عشقته ياحمزة علاءالدين (Re: abubakr)
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ومرة إستمعت للأستاذ حمزه علاء الدين في القاهرة
وهو يتحدث عن الاصوات الموسيقية وأنها تحمل صفات
نارية وترابية وهوائية ومائية !! الأمر الذي برغم
ما إعتقدته فيه من خزعبلات إلا أنه بدا لي في غاية
العجب ؛
وربما دلني على صفاء ذهن هذا الرجل وحبته العميقة
للموسيقى ..
كان حديثه شيقاً وودوداً ..
أخشى أننا نسير في طريق يغيب فيه عن رفقتنا من يعبرون
عن الهوية والروح والتاريخ بالموسيقى والفنون والحلويات
وأن يبقى كل ما لدينا هو هذه الخربشات اللئيمة العمياء ..
لطفك يا رب
سلامات يا حمزة ...
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abubakr
ابو جهينة
طلال عفيفي
احمد حماد ادريس
Muna Khugali
فاروق حامد محمد
عصام عبد الحفيظ
الطيب شيقوق
ateif abdoon
Gaafar Ismail
فيس بوك
تويتر
انستقرام
يوتيوب
بنتيريست