Arabic Oud Icon Seeks to 'Change Soul' of Iraq

Iraqi musician Naseer Shamma plays the oud during rehearsals at the Iraqi National Theater in Baghdad on January 17, 2022. (Photo by AHMAD AL-RUBAYE / AFP)
Iraqi musician Naseer Shamma plays the oud during rehearsals at the Iraqi National Theater in Baghdad on January 17, 2022. (Photo by AHMAD AL-RUBAYE / AFP)
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Arabic Oud Icon Seeks to 'Change Soul' of Iraq

Iraqi musician Naseer Shamma plays the oud during rehearsals at the Iraqi National Theater in Baghdad on January 17, 2022. (Photo by AHMAD AL-RUBAYE / AFP)
Iraqi musician Naseer Shamma plays the oud during rehearsals at the Iraqi National Theater in Baghdad on January 17, 2022. (Photo by AHMAD AL-RUBAYE / AFP)

Long uprooted from his native Iraq, Naseer Shamma, an icon of the Arabic oud, has returned home to help rekindle the flame of Iraqi music, snuffed out by decades of conflict.

"When you are in your own country, you feel very high emotions with the audience," the master string player said in an interview with AFP.

At nearly 60, the virtuoso who studied under late Iraqi oud legend Munir Bashir still appears in awe of his instrument, as well as those that accompany it.

"All those instruments are Iraqi -- you have the santur for example. Each one is from 2000 BC," he said at the national theatre orchestra packed with Iraqi instruments.

"They are very historic instruments and the sound is a very special sound."

Speaking between rehearsals, he added: "There is nostalgia here, with friends. I studied in Baghdad for six years and I always feel more comfortable when I play here."

But such nights in Baghdad have become more of an exception than the rule for Shamma, a native of Kut, in the country's southeast.

Exiled in 1993 under Saddam Hussein, he only returned to Iraq for the first time in 2012.

In the interim, he spent time in Cairo, as well as launching schools of Arabic oud across the Middle East, before settling in Berlin, where he lives now.

Aside from his musical mission, his latest Baghdad performances come with another purpose.

"Now we're playing to help education. My new project is called 'education first'. We need to help Iraqi schools," Shamma said.

As UNICEF has pointed out, "decades of conflict and under-investment in Iraq have destroyed what used to be the best education system in the region and severely curtailed Iraqi children's access to quality learning".

From the Iran-Iraq war of the 1980s to the subsequent international embargoes, the 2003 US-led invasion and the later ISIS takeover, Iraq has struggled to emerge from bloody turmoil.

"And of course, three or four generations paid the price of this," Shamma said.

Despite the sluggish pace of Iraq's recovery and the political disputes that always threaten to erupt into new violence, the musician is hopeful for change.

"We hope that music... will change the soul of people," he said.

While Iraq is still far from its cultural heyday of the 1970s and 80s, it has recently seen a fledgling renaissance, with art galleries opening and book fairs and festivals being held.

"We need to close the bad past and start again a new life with a new memory and a new vision for the future," Shamma said.



Taiwan Bounty Hunters Kill Invading Iguanas as Numbers Soar

This photo taken on February 10, 2025 shows bound iguanas captured by hunters on the ground in Pingtung. (Photo by I-Hwa Cheng / AFP)
This photo taken on February 10, 2025 shows bound iguanas captured by hunters on the ground in Pingtung. (Photo by I-Hwa Cheng / AFP)
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Taiwan Bounty Hunters Kill Invading Iguanas as Numbers Soar

This photo taken on February 10, 2025 shows bound iguanas captured by hunters on the ground in Pingtung. (Photo by I-Hwa Cheng / AFP)
This photo taken on February 10, 2025 shows bound iguanas captured by hunters on the ground in Pingtung. (Photo by I-Hwa Cheng / AFP)

Armed with a slingshot, Taiwanese bounty hunter Wu Cheng-hua bends sideways and aims his lethal weapon up at a green iguana, one of tens of thousands in the crosshairs of a government cull.

Taiwan's iguana population has exploded since the spikey-backed giant lizards were introduced from Central and South America more than 20 years ago as exotic pets.

Many escaped, or were dumped, and have bred rapidly in the warm climate of the island's south, invading neighborhoods and ravaging farmers' crops, Agence France Press reported.

After Wu finishes his shift at a breakfast eatery, he joins a group of hunters hired by the Pingtung County government, which pays up to NT$500 (US$15) per iguana.

"Sometimes we've been lucky and caught 300 iguanas in a day," Wu, 25, told AFP.

"Sometimes we were not so lucky and caught two, three or a dozen."

Carrying harpoon slingshots used for spearfishing and wearing rubber boots, the hunters crane their necks as they scan the thick forest for iguanas, which live in the canopy.

There are more misses than hits as the men fire their stainless steel darts at the prehistoric-looking creatures high up in the trees and shielded by leaves and branches.

AFP journalists watch as an iguana plunges several meters to the ground and runs for its life. Another is shot multiple times before it is pulled out of the tree still alive.

The men bind the legs of the captured iguanas to stop them escaping and leave them on the ground as they carry on hunting.

Taiwan began culling iguanas nearly 10 years ago and this year's target has been set at more than 100,000.

Experts and government officials say the effort is unlikely to eradicate the reptiles.

Some estimates put Taiwan's green iguana population at 200,000. A female iguana breeds once a year, laying dozens of eggs at a time.

"Climate anomalies" have fueled iguana numbers in recent years, said Chen Tien-hsi, a wildlife expert at the National Pingtung University of Science and Technology.

A lack of seasonal rain and unusually warm winters have increased hatching and survival rates of the young, which Chen said had created "a perfect storm for explosive population growth".

Pingtung County has ramped up its iguana cull from a few hundred a year in the beginning to 48,000 last year, Agriculture Department director-general Cheng Yung-yu said.

But Cheng said more effective "removal strategies" were needed.

"Despite significant manpower and resources being spent on their removal annually, their population continues to grow almost exponentially," he said.

Local farmer Cheng Hui-jung has watched iguanas decimate her family's red bean crop, even after they installed fishing nets to protect their fields from the herbivores.

The iguanas live in the dense bamboo growing between her land and a river, and come down during the day to feast on the red bean shoots.

"They move very fast and we couldn't catch them," Cheng told AFP, who worries some farmers will resort to cutting down the trees or give up planting crops altogether.

Regular people are being encouraged to get involved in the iguana cull.

Hsin Tseng-kuan said she was scared the first time she encountered an iguana on her farm and resolved to learn how to catch them.

"They're not even afraid of people," said Hsin, 58, one of more than 80 people taking part in a government training session where they are shown how to use a snare pole to lasso a soft toy iguana.

"When we first saw one, we were the ones who were scared," Hsin told AFP.

"It really looked like a small dinosaur."

Animal rights group PETA has urged Taiwan to find "non-lethal strategies" for controlling its iguana population or, if culling was deemed necessary, to "minimize suffering" of the creatures.

Several hunters told AFP they would be able to kill more efficiently and humanely if they were allowed to use air guns, the use of which is tightly controlled in Taiwan.

Wu and his colleagues end their hunt in the early evening after catching 14 iguanas in three hours.

The reptiles -- some of them alive and bloodied -- are laid on the ground before being tossed into a plastic box.

Hunters are required to euthanize the iguanas and keep them in a freezer until they can be incinerated by the government.

While hunting was physically harder than his cooking job, Wu said he liked helping farmers protect their crops.

"Otherwise, everything they grow will be eaten up," Wu said.

"It is very sad to see them like this."