Farewell to the voice of resistance to Israeli occupation: Ahmad Kaabour (1955–2026)

Ahram Online , Thursday 26 Mar 2026

The Arab world has lost more than a singer; it has lost a sonic lighthouse that guided the displaced and the defiant through decades of darkness.

Ahmad Kaabour



Ahmad Kaabour, the Lebanese who passed away on 26 March 2026, was a man whose throat carried the weight of the Palestinian Nakba and the scars of the Lebanese Civil War (1975-1990).

To those who stand in the trenches of resistance against Israeli occupation, Kaabour was not a mere entertainer; he was a comrade-in-arms whose melodies were as essential as bread and as piercing as truth.

Born in Beirut in 1955, Kaabour’s artistic awakening was forged in the fire of the 1975 Civil War.

While others fled or chose silence, Kaabour organized popular committees to support his fellow citizens. It was in this climate of defiance that he gifted the world his most enduring legacy: "Ounadikom" (I Call Out to You).

Based on the poetry of the Palestinian revolutionary Tawfiq Ziad, the song became the anthem of the Palestinian struggle.

When he sang, "I clasp onto your hands... and I say, I'm prepared to die for your sake," Kaabour wasn't just performing; he was articulating the collective vow of a people who refused to be erased.

Kaabour’s political position was never a mystery. He was a pioneer of resistance music, using his platform to champion humanitarian causes and Arab identity. His work transcended borders, resonating from the camps of Lebanon to the streets of Gaza.

Songs like "Walla Wtalla'anouhoumm Barra" (By God, We Kicked Them Out) celebrated the expulsion of the occupier, while "Nihna An'nas" (We are the People) and "Janoubiyoun" (Southerners) gave voice to the resilience of the marginalized.

He collaborated with other giants of committed art, including Marcel Khalife and Ziad Rahbani, ensuring that the culture of resistance remained vibrant and unyielding.

Beyond the battlefield of politics, Kaabour sang for the soul of Beirut. His album Sawton A'ali and the song "Beirut Ya Beirut" captured the love and agony of a city that has seen too many funerals and too few dawns.

Even his work for children’s theater and his Ramadan classic "Allaou Al-Bayareq" were rooted in a desire to build a dignified future for the next generation.

Ahmad Kaabour has been laid to rest in the Al Shouhadaa (Martyrs) Cemetery. It is a fitting final stage for a man who spent his life honoring those who fell for freedom. His body is gone, but as long as a child in a refugee camp hums "Ounadikom" or a protester raises a fist against injustice, Ahmad Kaabour’s voice will continue to strike like a hammer against the walls of the occupier.

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