The journey - from Egypt to Ziad, and from Ziad back to Egypt - is remembered by three Egyptian artists whose lives intersected with his work in different ways: oud virtuoso Hazem Shaheen, poet and filmmaker Ahmed Haddad, and poet and songwriter Ibrahim Abdel Fattah.
Ziad’s presence in our collective memory
For generations of Egyptian television viewers, one melody has quietly become part of the country's collective memory. It first entered Egyptian homes decades ago as the signature tune of the popular television programme Ala Al-Tariq, presented by broadcaster Malak Ismail. Today, it serves as the theme of Maspero Zaman, the satellite channel dedicated to preserving Egypt's television heritage. Many recognize the melody instantly without knowing its composer. It is the overture to the musical play Mais El-Reem composed by Ziad Rahbani.
Ziad Rahbani performs the overture to Mais El-Reem musical play.
The irony runs deeper. As Egyptian television quietly absorbed one of Rahbani's own compositions into its collective cultural memory, Rahbani spent a lifetime absorbing Egypt's musical heritage into his own work. The music of Sayed Darwish and Zakaria Ahmed, the spirit of Egyptian musical theatre, and its social consciousness became part of the artistic language from which he forged something unmistakably his own. Sometimes the dialogue was explicit. In Shou Hal Ayyam (What times we live in), he quotes Sayed Darwish's famous line, "El Helwa Di Aamet Te'gen fil Fagreyya" (This beauty woke up at dawn to knead) and Zakaria Ahmed’s “Hwa Saheh el Hawa Ghalab?” (Is it true that love conquers all?), weaving one of Egypt's best-known songs into his own reflection on economic hardship. More often, Egypt appeared not as quotation but as artistic instinct.
Watching Rahbani's television interviews, one impression kept returning. Praise rarely seemed to sit comfortably with him. Yet whenever he was placed in the artistic lineage of Sayed Darwish, his face would soften into a quiet smile.
That influence would eventually complete a remarkable circle. The artistic tradition Rahbani inherited from Egypt returned decades later through his own work, inspiring Egyptian musicians, poets, and theatre-makers who were searching for new artistic possibilities.
That journey—from Egypt to Ziad, and from Ziad back to Egypt—is remembered by three Egyptian artists whose lives intersected with his work in different ways: oud virtuoso Hazem Shaheen, poet and songwriter Ibrahim Abdel Fattah, and poet and filmmaker Ahmed Haddad.
In this second part, Ahmed Haddad reflects on how Ziad Rahbani's authenticity and artistic lineage opened new paths for generations of Egyptian artists.
Opening the way for those who followed
For Egyptian poet and cinematic artist Ahmed Haddad, Ziad Rahbani's relationship with Egypt was never expressed through admiration or nostalgic gestures. "His genius was that he never played the role of the tourist saying 'Egypt is beautiful,' so let's throw in all the tourist clichés; at the same time, he was able to create an Egyptian spirit, a spirit that feels like us, without saying, 'Look, pay attention."
Authentic
Haddad believes Rahbani transcended national boundaries without losing cultural authenticity.
That authenticity of Ziad extended from his engagement with Egypt's musical heritage. "I never felt any sense of estrangement in any of the works by Sayed Darwish or Zakaria Ahmed that Ziad rearranged."
For Haddad, Rahbani's affection for Egypt was evident in what he created rather than what he declared.
"For him Love is actions, so when he loves Egypt. You can see it in his work, you can see it in his eyes, in his mastery of the dialect. When he sings in Egyptian, he sings to Egyptians."
From tapes to live
Haddad's own artistic journey began with two cassette tapes. "There were two cassette tapes that had a profound impact on me; I used to listen to them all the time... Keefak Enta and Al-Warithin. Those two tapes are pretty much what shaped everything in me."
One was Fairuz's Keefak Enta, written and composed by Ziad Rahbani. The other was Al-Warithin, in which Eman El-Bahr Darwish revived the songs of his grandfather, Sayed Darwish.
Keefak Enta and Al-Warithin covers
"To me, the two went together"
"Later, I started to discover that there was a connection—that Ziad was originally influenced by Sayed Darwish. I mean, I began to notice little indications: Fairuz singing Sayed Darwish, the Rahbanis themselves being influenced by Sayed Darwish."
"Every now and then I stumble upon another piece of evidence that Ziad is like me, moving in the same orbit. That orbit is Sayed Darwish. Because Sayed Darwish is a great source of inspiration."
Universal human concerns
For Haddad, what united Sayed Darwish and Rahbani was not simply political engagement but their ability to speak to universal human concerns.
"They focused on resistance in their work, yet both of them were speaking to humanity. And that's something much greater and deeper than bringing out a demonstration of thirty, forty, or even a hundred people. In the end, speaking to humanity is something higher, nobler, greater, and more enduring."
"When I sing El Helwa Di at a concert... you'll find that it still appeals a hundred years later... because it addresses a very universal issue; the same goes for Ziad Rahbani's work."
Sayed Darwish, Ziad Rahbani and Ahmed Haddad
A brief yet memorable personal encounter
Hazem Shaheen performs Safha Gedida with Ziad Rahbani and his troupe. The song's lyrics were written by Ahmed Haddad.
Although Haddad met Rahbani only briefly, the encounters left a lasting impression. Through Hazem Shaheen, Rahbani read Haddad's poetry and offered praise the Egyptian poet still treasures.
"He said something about me in dialect, ha el zalama menno bassiet (this man is quite a talent) and for me... I mean, I wish I had recorded it or framed it; that was like receiving a PhD."
The voice
"Ziad writes things that sound like him. They're beautiful, and they have depth. And he's a genius—a greater genius in music than in writing. From that, he created something called Ziad Rahbani. Something you've never heard from anyone except Ziad Rahbani."
"When he presents Sayed Darwish, he gives you Sayed Darwish. You can almost smell Sayed Darwish, you can smell Zakaria Ahmed—you can feel their presence."
"That's the work of geniuses like Ziad: creating things that seem simple, yet possess that quality of effortless mastery."
Point of reference
To Haddad, Rahbani's influence extends far beyond music; he also influenced musicians, directors, painters, dancers, and actors.
"People like Ziad, Sayed Darwish, Fouad Haddad, Salah Jahin, Bayram El-Tunsi, Naguib El-Rihani, and all those people... they didn't just exist; they opened the way for those who came after them to carry on."
"All we can say to them is: thank you, because they aren't simply artists we happened to admire. They keep opening new paths for us. They are our points of reference."
*Read part 1 of A tribute from Egypt to Ziad Rahbani here.
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