Angry Arab crooner. When I was a child, I always sang. I memorized songs by Fayruz and others. My mother kept encouraging me by saying that I sing well. When I was eight, she asked me to join the singing chorus at IC (my school in Beirut). I went to the teacher, Ms. Kusa, and sang a bit. She said let me see you sing with the group. We started singing this song:
قديش كنا يا عيوني نلعب تحت الزيتوني
نغمض عينينا ونقول من نقفك يا زيتوني
(O my eyes, how we played under the olive tree; we would close our eyes and say: who struck [there is no way on earth you can translate the word naqafa--which only proves the richness of the Arabic language] o olive tree?). As soon as the chorus started singing, Ms. Kusa listened carefully and said that somebody is singing off, the whole tune. She asked us to sing again, and the same error was detected. This time she zeroed in on me and said: "As`ad. Leave the chorus. You don't sing well." I left home crying. I cried more at night--but not as much as Sanyurah cried when Israel invaded Lebanon).
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