{"id":12928,"date":"2025-07-27T23:37:00","date_gmt":"2025-07-27T23:37:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/an-exceptionally-close-and-multifaceted-relationship-with-ziad-rahbani\/"},"modified":"2025-08-10T06:19:07","modified_gmt":"2025-08-10T06:19:07","slug":"an-exceptionally-close-and-multifaceted-relationship-with-ziad-rahbani","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/an-exceptionally-close-and-multifaceted-relationship-with-ziad-rahbani\/","title":{"rendered":"An exceptionally close and multifaceted relationship with Ziad Rahbani"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

When I picture Ziad Rahbani apart from his fruitful artistic life, and apart from being part of one of the greatest artistic families in the Arab world, I see him as that old man who never leaves the neighborhood\u2014never letting a passerby escape his tongue.No woman walks by without receiving his playful compliments, and no child fails to dodge him with odd excuses. His voice is louder than the neighborhood\u2019s noise\u2014in fact, it is the neighborhood\u2019s noise.And yet, no one minds. The children don\u2019t dislike him, and the women don\u2019t take his flirtation as harassment. Everyone loves him\u2014young and old alike\u2014and respects him despite everything. He fears no outburst in the face of injustice, and no one, no matter how important, dares to dismiss his judgment.When he dies, the neighborhood will never be the same. And that is exactly what the artist Ziad Rahbani was in reality: when he passed away, the world could never be the same again. <\/p>\n\n

Ziad inherited his name from a legendary artistic family\u2014just mentioning \u201cFairuz\u201d is enough to grasp the scale of the challenge.Yet his voice never dissolved into the shadows of that family. Instead, he carved out his own presence with ease and sincerity. He wasn\u2019t merely a continuation, but a standalone pillar who influenced everyone\u2014 even his mother\u2019s own career. Many songs performed by Fairuz were, in truth, infused with Ziad\u2019s spirit and essence. \u201cKifak Inta\u201d, for example, unmistakably bears his fingerprint; it is more his than hers. <\/p>\n\n

Many songs performed by Fairuzwere, in fact, Ziad in spirit and substance.<\/pre>\n\n
When we sing \u201cEl Bosta\u201d, we\u2019re not just singing a cheerful tune or a playful story about a girl named Alia\u2014we\u2019re singing for all our women.I\u2019ve never sung it to my beloved and thought of the real Alia. Her name never bothered us, because the song belongs to us; we rewrite it each time according to the one we love.It\u2019s the same with \u201cBala Wala Shi\u201d: if you haven\u2019t shared it with the one you love, you might want to rethink the relationship.That\u2019s Ziad\u2019s magic\u2014turning the deeply personal into something universal, and the universal into something deeply intimate.            <\/p>\n\n
Despite his seemingly sharp demeanor and perpetual short temper\u2014as he once said of himself, \u201cI\u2019ve got a short fuse, and so does he\u201d\u2014his irritation was never directed at people or at life\u2019s possibilities, but at injustice itself.He was angry because the world wasn\u2019t as it should be.He wasn\u2019t a mere pessimist, but an artist who saw more than the rest of us. That burning anger made his presence unforgettable, and his departure a loud tolling bell echoed across people\u2019s pages and social media posts.In the moment of farewell, everyone was united in their loss\u2014because he was more than an artist; he was a voice for us all.             <\/p>\n\n
My personal connection with Ziad began late, when I stumbled upon a line of his in a recording: \u201cEvery time you ask me how I am, I\u2019m reminded that I\u2019m not okay.\u201dThat phrase became my doorway into his radio program \u201cAl Aql Zeena\u201d (Wisdom Is a Blessing).I hadn\u2019t seen it during its original broadcast\u2014perhaps I was too young. But I found in it a refuge: long sessions of listening, words that sparked wonder, endless questions, and, at times, an admission\u2014\u201cI don\u2019t understand everything, because of the Lebanese dialect\u201d\u2014yet the feeling? Always there.               <\/p>\n\n
My friend Valentine Nassar shares this sentiment. She says:\u201cAt first, I didn\u2019t understand a word Ziad was saying\u2014I was far too young. But Ziad was always present in our home. My father was passionate about him, and about Fairuz. I inherited his rebellious spirit, especially through (Al Aql Zeena) and plays like (An American Long Film) and (As for Tomorrow, What?). Ziad has this uncanny ability to read the future and unpack the complexities of Lebanese reality with both lightness and depth\u2014and to me, that\u2019s genius.\u201d<\/p>\n\n
Ziad has an uncanny ability to foresee the future and to unpack the complexities of Lebanese reality with both lightness and depth\u2014and that is pure genius.<\/pre>\n\n
In everything he did, Ziad revealed us to ourselves\u2014our own inner struggles.He showed us that art is not a luxury, but a form of resistance. That a joke can be a weapon, and that love itself can be a political stance.He left behind a legacy not only in melodies, but in ideas, in voice, and in the very way we see the world.         <\/p>\n\n
That\u2019s why I\u2019ll end my article with the line of his that never stops haunting me: “Honestly, between you and understanding, there\u2019s a misunderstanding.”<\/strong><\/p>\n\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
When I picture Ziad Rahbani apart from his fruitful artistic life, and apart from being part of one of the greatest artistic families in the Arab world, I see him as that old man who never leaves the neighborhood\u2014never letting a passerby escape his tongue.No woman walks by without receiving his playful compliments, and no child fails to dodge him with odd excuses. His voice is louder than the neighborhood\u2019s noise\u2014in fact, it is the neighborhood\u2019s noise.And yet, no one minds. The children don\u2019t dislike him, and the women don\u2019t take his flirtation as harassment. Everyone loves him\u2014young and old alike\u2014and respects him despite everything. He fears no outburst in the face of injustice, and no one, no matter how important, dares to dismiss his judgment.When he dies, the neighborhood will never be the same. And that is exactly what the artist Ziad Rahbani was in reality: when he passed away, the world could never be the same again. Ziad inherited his name from a legendary artistic family\u2014just mentioning \u201cFairuz\u201d is enough to grasp the scale of the challenge.Yet his voice never dissolved into the shadows of that family. Instead, he carved out his own presence with ease and sincerity. He wasn\u2019t merely a continuation, but a standalone pillar who influenced everyone\u2014 even his mother\u2019s own career. Many songs performed by Fairuz were, in truth, infused with Ziad\u2019s spirit and essence. \u201cKifak Inta\u201d, for example, unmistakably bears his fingerprint; it is more his than hers. Many songs performed by Fairuzwere, in fact, Ziad in spirit and substance. When we sing \u201cEl Bosta\u201d, we\u2019re not just singing a cheerful tune or a playful story about a girl named Alia\u2014we\u2019re singing for all our women.I\u2019ve never sung it to my beloved and thought of the real Alia. Her name never bothered us, because the song belongs to us; we rewrite it each time according to the one we love.It\u2019s the same with \u201cBala Wala Shi\u201d: if you haven\u2019t shared it with the one you love, you might want to rethink the relationship.That\u2019s Ziad\u2019s magic\u2014turning the deeply personal into something universal, and the universal into something deeply intimate. Despite his seemingly sharp demeanor and perpetual short temper\u2014as he once said of himself, \u201cI\u2019ve got a short fuse, and so does he\u201d\u2014his irritation was never directed at people or at life\u2019s possibilities, but at injustice itself.He was angry because the world wasn\u2019t as it should be.He wasn\u2019t a mere pessimist, but an artist who saw more than the rest of us. That burning anger made his presence unforgettable, and his departure a loud tolling bell echoed across people\u2019s pages and social media posts.In the moment of farewell, everyone was united in their loss\u2014because he was more than an artist; he was a voice for us all. My personal connection with Ziad began late, when I stumbled upon a line of his in a recording: \u201cEvery time you ask me how I am, I\u2019m reminded that I\u2019m not okay.\u201dThat phrase became my doorway into his radio program \u201cAl Aql Zeena\u201d (Wisdom Is a Blessing).I hadn\u2019t seen it during its original broadcast\u2014perhaps I was too young. But I found in it a refuge: long sessions of listening, words that sparked wonder, endless questions, and, at times, an admission\u2014\u201cI don\u2019t understand everything, because of the Lebanese dialect\u201d\u2014yet the feeling? Always there. My friend Valentine Nassar shares this sentiment. She says:\u201cAt first, I didn\u2019t understand a word Ziad was saying\u2014I was far too young. But Ziad was always present in our home. My father was passionate about him, and about Fairuz. I inherited his rebellious spirit, especially through (Al Aql Zeena) and plays like (An American Long Film) and (As for Tomorrow, What?). Ziad has this uncanny ability to read the future and unpack the complexities of Lebanese reality with both lightness and depth\u2014and to me, that\u2019s genius.\u201d Ziad has an uncanny ability to foresee the future and to unpack the complexities of Lebanese reality with both lightness and depth\u2014and that is pure genius. In everything he did, Ziad revealed us to ourselves\u2014our own inner struggles.He showed us that art is not a luxury, but a form of resistance. That a joke can be a weapon, and that love itself can be a political stance.He left behind a legacy not only in melodies, but in ideas, in voice, and in the very way we see the world. That\u2019s why I\u2019ll end my article with the line of his that never stops haunting me: “Honestly, between you and understanding, there\u2019s a misunderstanding.”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":6,"featured_media":12630,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"elementor_theme","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[340,339],"tags":[351,350,347,352,349],"class_list":["post-12928","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-blog","category-opinion","tag-al-rahbana","tag-art","tag-lebanon-en","tag-politics","tag-ziad_rahbani"],"blocksy_meta":[],"acf":[],"rttpg_featured_image_url":{"full":["https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/149-40.webp",900,500,false],"landscape":["https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/149-40.webp",900,500,false],"portraits":["https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/149-40.webp",900,500,false],"thumbnail":["https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/149-40-150x150.webp",150,150,true],"medium":["https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/149-40-300x167.webp",300,167,true],"large":["https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/149-40.webp",900,500,false],"1536x1536":["https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/149-40.webp",900,500,false],"2048x2048":["https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/149-40.webp",900,500,false]},"rttpg_author":{"display_name":"\u0623\u062d\u0645\u062f \u0633\u0627\u0645\u0631","author_link":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/author\/ahmed-samer\/"},"rttpg_comment":0,"rttpg_category":"Blog<\/a> Opinion<\/a>","rttpg_excerpt":"When I picture Ziad Rahbani apart from his fruitful artistic life, and apart from being part of one of the greatest artistic families in the Arab world, I see him as that old man who never leaves the neighborhood\u2014never letting a passerby escape his tongue.No woman walks by without receiving his playful compliments, and no…","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12928","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/6"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=12928"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12928\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/12630"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=12928"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=12928"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=12928"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}