Pebbles and Boulders
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Posted in:
She So Writeous,
Movies
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| Yahsmin M. B. Bobo | Nov. 23, 2008 | 12:02 PM |
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For distressed youth in Palestine,
Hip Hop and its lyricism is the perfect escape. Not only does it lend
to a narrative legacy in Arab folklore, it lends itself to continuity
in a literary culture deeply entrenched in religious history and now,
the making of history.
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Directed by: Jackie Salloum
Produced by: Jackie Salloum,
Rumzi Araj and Waleed Zaiter
It was a Friday night at the
premiere screening of Slingshot Hip Hop, a documentary about the underground
music scene in Occupied Palestine. I strolled into a thick crowd of
Arab Film Festival enthusiasts ready to watch the film we’d been hearing
about for at least three years. The theatre, located on Shattuck in
Berkeley, had already heightened in both temperature and excitement.
The long anticipated film was about to be shown on the big screen to
Bay Area indie film critics, media professionals, journalists, students
and average viewers. Many families brought adolescent children with
them. By the looks of it, only some of these viewers actually like Hip
Hop but their attendance was either out of curiosity or good old fashioned
support.
In any event, I was afforded
the handiness of a press pass only to enter the densely packed theater
to a standing room audience. And from what I hear by other viewers around
the country, nearly every premiere had the same reception. Back to the
wall and sitting comfortably on the carpet, I was sure we had reached
maximum occupancy but everyone was fixed attentively to the screen where
DAM made their debut, at least on film, to American audiences. They
laced the crowds with beautiful Arabic monologues and a little English
here and there, especially in their commentary on Public Enemy and how
the two groups were often compared. The film then showed clips of an
interview DAM had with none other than Chuck D himself.
As the scenes rolled through,
I was surprised their humor was so sharp in a language so foreign to
them. Perhaps not- as the three members of DAM explained the group’s
origins they made it very clear that linguistic interest in English
came purely from their love of Hip Hop.
For this trio, two of which
are biological brothers, their music is 30% Hip Hop, 30% literature
and the rest environment- the one beyond barred window frames in Lyd,
Israel.
The initial concerns facing
DAM as a group were not cultural- like being a rap group emulating American
megastars- but being accepted by Palestinians living outside of Israel
in the West Bank, Gaza Strip and refugee camps. To their surprise, DAM’s
popularity spread like wildfire despite being from the 48’ and soon
enough, they were the ones to be emulated.
From this influence that sprung
up in the late nineties and into the new millennium, came groups like
PR, MWR, Arapeyet, WE7, and solo Palestinians artists like Ibrahim,
Mahmoud Shalabi and Abeer, the first female Hip Hop artist to break
the mold in her family and country. Hers was the most inspiring story,
I felt, because she faced threats from family, specifically male relatives,
if she performed and had to decline the first couple of opportunities
to be on stage. In one scene of the film, she sat with tears welling
in her eyes and watched DAM perform on national television without her.
Yet, she obviously possesses the most talent, lyrically and vocally,
that the Arab pop music scene has experienced. Now living in Baltimore,
Abeer is also known under a pseudonym and is said to be recording her
first solo album. She may be likened to an Arab Lauryn Hill one day
soon, with the potency of vocals that pitch from one part of the planet
to the other. It’s no wonder she ascended from an occupied land to
one where she will be able to explore her creativity and apply her talent.
Throughout the film, the foundational
elements of Hip Hop culture were subtly highlighted, although MC’ing
was foremost to be presented. There were a few scenes that included
other elements such as dance and graffiti writing, however, turntabalism
wasn’t as widely practiced because it requires investing in equipment
and records while demanding a DJ to travel from region to region. This
art form would not be as easily practiced, I am assuming, due to the
physical constraints placed upon Arabs by Israeli law which limits their
mobility within checkpoints and through means of severe police harassment.
It is akin to our situation in the States during the days of Jim Crow
and on a grand scale, the situation of our South African kinsmen in
the apartheid era. There is no need to debate the issue- Arabs are
mistreated as second class citizens and forbidden to roam freely as
humans have always done. One of the cast members said jokingly that
while fellow Hip Hop artists may only live fifteen minutes from him,
it seems as though they could be living in another country.
Hip Hop in Palestine, whether
labeled as Israel or another strategically marked territory, cannot
gain momentum if its very artists are not able to network, perform and
record together. And that’s not to mention circumstances like limitations
in technology, random and unplanned electrical blackouts, event planning
amid a military occupation and promotion of the finished product. It
is almost shameful that in the birthplace of Hip Hop, American artists
waste time and resources “beefing” about territory and talent while
our Palestinian counterparts long to work with others who share the
commonality of the urban cultural expression. Yet, they cannot share
the same space and time under repressive and racist Israeli law.
Mainstream American artists
could really take a lesson in solidarity from these young, ambitious
crews. Even Hip Hop organizations could do more to unify with likeminded
activists and this film helped me to contextualize problems we face
that often asphyxiate productivity.
Aside from Abeer’s compelling
narrative, Mahmoud Shalabi dropped jewels of wisdom about these circumstances
during the film. Cameras followed him while he daringly traveled on
public transportation, speaking to filming crews in Arabic while Jewish
people looked on with suspicion and discomfort. The mere utterance of
Arabic vocab was enough cause for him to be interrogated by authorities
that same night as the film’s director inquired as to why he was being
singled out. The film then flipped between scenes of the harassment
and Shalabi freestyling as he stomped away from the fiasco. Skilled
in the art of words, he was released from the grip of unnecessary harassment
yet he released the tension through rhyming.
For distressed youth in Palestine,
Hip Hop and its lyricism is the perfect escape. Not only does it lend
to a narrative legacy in Arab folklore, it lends itself to continuity
in a literary culture deeply entrenched in religious history and now,
the making of history.
The film itself was very well
produced, narrated and planned out considering the difficult conditions
its producers entered into. After the screening, we were allowed a brief
question and answer period with the director and cast members, DAM,
who performed at Eastside Arts Alliance following the premiere. Jackie
Reem Salloum, the director, described tough situations she and crew
members were in and also elaborated on how being an American with a
passport seems like a golden ticket by comparison to checkpoint delays-
sometimes hours on end- for ordinary Palestinian citizens. Although
she is also Palestinian, Salloum affirmed that transporting video footage
had to be discreet and were much more safeguarded when in the keeping
of her Jewish traveling companions.
Nobody in the overcrowded room
had to beg the question of why the film was named as such because by
now, the stone throwing Palestinian is an international icon.
A proverbial slingshot is simply the means by which any oppressed person
can defend himself (or herself) from powers they are virtually defenseless
in the face of- like tanks, bulldozers and automatic weapons. Instead
they answered questions about how associations flourished between artists
across man-made territories and received a standing ovation from everyone
in the room, festival volunteers included. Everyone was clearly moved
by the film, and perhaps these are the humble beginnings of a new phase
in the Hip Hop Arts movement where those of Semitic ancestry are truly
embraced.
Given the frank nature of the
film’s narrative and subject matter, Salloum wasn’t shy to typify
the challenges of independent filmmaking and especially financial ones.
I respect the honesty with which she presented this aspect in the project;
a kind of integrity we aren’t often exposed to in the matrix of Hollywood
cinema. Good filmmaking is regularly equated with a gigantic production
budget, typically in the millions, rather than the actual content of
what’s featured. Likewise, millions of dollars are literally laid
to waste when a film flops at the box office or after suffering from
the cruelty of industry film critics.
Every penny of the Slingshot
Hip Hop production budget was well spent and that is clearly proven
in the outcome. I urge those passionate about various Art genres, and
particularly film, to support this production by pre-ordering a DVD,
purchasing the soundtrack and buying other merchandise they offer through
their website.
For every coin spent in support
of this film, is one well earned for the makers of this documentary.
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