Lebanon's Fairouz: The Arab World's Most Celebrated Living Voice

Lebanese icon Fairouz. (AFP)
Lebanese icon Fairouz. (AFP)
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Lebanon's Fairouz: The Arab World's Most Celebrated Living Voice

Lebanese icon Fairouz. (AFP)
Lebanese icon Fairouz. (AFP)

The Arab world's last living music legend Fairouz, who French president Emmanuel Macron is to visit Monday in Beirut, is a rare symbol of national unity in crisis-hit Lebanon.

Since the death of Egyptian diva Umm Kulthum in 1975, no Arab singer has been so profoundly venerated as 85-year-old Fairouz -- a stage name that means "turquoise" in Arabic.

For decades, she captivated audiences everywhere from her native Beirut to Las Vegas, including the grand Olympia in Paris and the Royal Albert Hall in London.

She has sung of love, Lebanon and the Palestinian cause, in ballads that have revolutionized Middle Eastern music.

Fairouz is "certainly one of the greatest Arab singers of the 20th century," expert in Middle Eastern music Virginia Danielson told the New York Times in 1999.

When she sang, she appeared as if in a trance: eyes glazed over, expression stoic, small smiles flashing quickly across her face.

"If you look at my face while I am singing, you will see that I am not there, I am not in the place," she told the New York Times in a rare interview.

"I feel art is like prayer."

Fairouz has been dubbed "our ambassador to the stars" by her compatriots -- not just for her celestial voice, but because she is a rare symbol of unity for a country bitterly divided by a 15-year civil war.

‘I love you, oh Lebanon’
Born Nouhad Haddad in 1934 to a working class family, she studied at the national music conservatory as a teenager.

During her time with the Lebanese state radio choir, composer Halim al-Roumi nicknamed her Fairouz and introduced her to composer Assi Rahbani, whom she married in 1955.

Fairouz, Assi, and his brother Mansour revolutionized traditional Arabic music by merging classical Western, Russian and Latin elements with eastern rhythms and a modern orchestra.

Fairouz shot to fame after her first performance at the Baalbek International Festival in 1957.

Her reign as the queen of Arabic music was partly thanks to her championing the Palestinian cause, including "Sanarjaou Yawman" or "We Shall Return One Day", an elegy to Palestinians exiled by the creation of Israel in 1948.

The star is an immortal icon in her native Lebanon.

Many of her most popular songs are nostalgic odes to pastoral times. Others are poems by the likes of Lebanese legends Gibran Khalil Gibran and Said Aql that are set to music.

She has largely disappeared from public life in recent years, but her soaring voice remains ubiquitous, blaring every morning from radios in street cafes and taxis.

"When you look at Lebanon now, you see that it bears no resemblance to the Lebanon I sing about, so when we miss it, we look for it through the songs," the diva told the New York Times.

Fairouz also won national acclaim for remaining in Lebanon throughout the country's civil war from 1975 to 1990, and for refusing to side with one faction over another.

Tens of thousands of people swarmed her first post-war concert, in 1994 in Beirut's downtown.

"I love you, oh Lebanon, my country, I love you. Your north, your south, your valley, I love you," she croons in one of her most well-known songs.

Political, family controversies
Fairouz is famously protective of her personal life.

"When she wants to, she can be really funny. She's also a distinguished chef. Very humble, she loves serving her guests herself," journalist Doha Chams, her press officer, told AFP.

But she hates "the invasion of her private life".

Fairouz had four children with husband Assi Rahbani, who died in 1986.

Their daughter Layal died at a young age of a brain hemorrhage, their son Hali is disabled, and Rima, the youngest, films and produces her mother's concerts.

Her eldest son, Ziad, followed in the footsteps of his father and uncle as a musician and composer.

Fairouz worked closely with Ziad – an iconic artist in Lebanon in his own right -- to compose songs with a jazz influence.

The Lebanese star's recent past has been marked by a string of family and political controversies.

In 2008, when Lebanese political factions were fiercely divided over support for the regime in neighboring Syria, Fairouz performed in Damascus.

Two years later, the Lebanese judiciary prevented her from singing tunes co-written by the Rahbani brothers without the authorization of the sons of her brother-in-law Mansour.

Fairouz spent several years without new material until 2017, when her daughter Rima produced her last album, "Bibali".



Loss, Worry, Relief and Prayers for Better Days as Ramadan Begins in Gaza amid a Fragile Ceasefire

 Palestinians sit at a large table surrounded by the rubble of destroyed homes and buildings as they gather for iftar, the fast-breaking meal, on the first day of Ramadan in Rafah, southern Gaza Strip, Saturday, March 1, 2025 (AP)
Palestinians sit at a large table surrounded by the rubble of destroyed homes and buildings as they gather for iftar, the fast-breaking meal, on the first day of Ramadan in Rafah, southern Gaza Strip, Saturday, March 1, 2025 (AP)
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Loss, Worry, Relief and Prayers for Better Days as Ramadan Begins in Gaza amid a Fragile Ceasefire

 Palestinians sit at a large table surrounded by the rubble of destroyed homes and buildings as they gather for iftar, the fast-breaking meal, on the first day of Ramadan in Rafah, southern Gaza Strip, Saturday, March 1, 2025 (AP)
Palestinians sit at a large table surrounded by the rubble of destroyed homes and buildings as they gather for iftar, the fast-breaking meal, on the first day of Ramadan in Rafah, southern Gaza Strip, Saturday, March 1, 2025 (AP)

Before the war, the Muslim holy month of Ramadan was a festive time of increased worship, social gatherings and cheer for Fatima Al-Absi. Together with her husband, the resident of Jabaliya in Gaza said she used to do Ramadan shopping, visit relatives and head to the mosque for prayers.

But the Israel-Hamas war has shredded many of the familiar and cherished threads of Ramadan as Al-Absi once knew it: her husband and a son-in-law have been killed, her home was damaged and burnt and the mosque she attended during Ramadan destroyed, she said.

"Everything has changed," she said on Saturday as her family observed the first day of Ramadan. "There’s no husband, no home, no proper food and no proper life."

For Al-Absi and other Gaza residents, Ramadan started this year under a fragile ceasefire agreement that paused more than 15 months of a war that has killed tens of thousands of Palestinians and devastated the Gaza Strip. Compared to last Ramadan, many found relief in the truce — but there's also worry and fear about what’s next and grief over the personal and collective losses, the raw wounds and the numerous scars left behind.

"I’ve lost a lot," said the 57-year-old grandmother, who’s been reduced to eking out an existence amid the wreckage. "Life is difficult. May God grant us patience and strength," she added.

Israel’s government said early Sunday it supports a proposal to extend the first phase of the ceasefire in Gaza through Ramadan and Passover even as Hamas has insisted earlier on negotiating the truce’s second phase. The statement by Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s office came minutes after the first phase ended, and as talks have begun on starting the second phase.

The statement gave new details on what Israel described as a US proposal, which it said was made after US envoy Steve Witkoff got "the impression that at this stage there was no possibility of bridging the positions of the parties to end the war, and that more time was needed for talks on a permanent ceasefire."

"We’re scared because there's no stability," Al-Absi said and added that she’s praying for the war to end and that she can’t bear any more losses. She spoke before Israel’s statement.

Though Ramadan is still far from normal, some in the Gaza Strip said that, in some ways, it feels better than last year’s.

"We can’t predict what will happen next," Amal Abu Sariyah, in Gaza City, said before the month’s start. "Yes, the country is destroyed and the situation is very bad, but the feeling that the shelling and the killing ... have stopped, makes you (feel) that this year is better than the last one."

Overshadowed by war and displacement, last Ramadan, was "very bad," for the Palestinian people, she said. The 2024 Ramadan in Gaza began with ceasefire talks then at a standstill, hunger worsening across the strip and no end in sight to the war.

The war was sparked by the Oct. 7, 2023 attack on Israel in which Hamas-led fighters killed some 1,200 people and took about 250 hostages. Israel’s military offensive has killed over 48,000 Palestinians, according to Gaza’s Health Ministry, which does not distinguish between combatants and civilians. Vast areas of Gaza have been destroyed.

Under the ceasefire, hundreds of thousands of Palestinians flooded back into northern Gaza. After initial relief and joy at returning to their homes — even if damaged or destroyed — they’ve been grappling with living amid the wreckage.

As Palestinians in the Gaza Strip prepared for Ramadan, shopping for essential household goods and food, some lamented harsh living conditions and economic hardships, but also said they rely on their faith in God to provide for them.

"I used to help people. ... Today, I can’t help myself," said Nasser Shoueikh. "My situation, thank God, used to be better and I wasn’t in need for anything. ... We ask God to stand by us."

For observant Muslims the world over, Ramadan is a time for fasting daily from dawn to sunset, increased worship, religious reflection, charity and good deeds. Socially, it often brings families and friends together in festive gatherings around meals to break their fast.

Elsewhere in the Gaza Strip, Fatima Barbakh, from the southern city of Khan Younis, said her Ramadan shopping was limited to the essentials.

"We can’t buy lanterns or decorations like we do every Ramadan," she said.

Back in Jabaliya, Al-Absi bitterly recalled how she used to break her fast with her husband, how much she misses him and how she remembers him when she prays.

"We don't want war," she said. "We want peace and safety."