August 23, 2004

Amman, Jordan

Whoever says that Arabs are incapable of uniting, or of participating in a democratic election, must have been snoozing last night as Arabs from the gulf to the sea, and even in the iron clasp of Israeli occupation, sat together in their living rooms with eyes glued to their TV screens united and voiced.

I would have been completely oblivious to this event had I not been invited by my neighbour, a lovely Palestinian lady from Jerusalem, to accompany her to another neighbour’s house "so we can watch it and vote together".  

Being a rookie to Palestinian and Arab pop culture I had to ask what “it” was.  

My neighbour looked at me as if I had landed from Mars. “Super Star of course. Don’t you know Super Star?”   Frustrated by my ignorance she continued, “You must come and bring your cell phone so you can vote.”  

What my neighbor had invited me to watch, and what most of the Arab world was watching last night, was a TV talent show called Super Star -  a competition much like “American Idol”.  It began with 60,000 entrants from all around the Arab world and was narrowed down to 17 finalists for the TV series.

Each Sunday night, Arab viewers eliminate contestants by voting with their phones, the Internet, or text messaging.  Last night it was down to only two, Libya’s Ayman Al Aattar and Palestine’s own Ammar Hassan.   

Hassan, originally from the northern West Bank town of Salfit near Qalqilya, has emerged as a new Palestinian folk hero.  What makes him special is that for once a Palestinian appears in the media not as a martyr, or an angry flag waving protester, or a militant fighter. And neither is he a refugee nor a politician. Hassan is a Palestinian artist with a sad voice and a mountain of talent.

Last night the competition was planned to be projected on large screens in the streets of Gaza as well as in Ramallah and Nablus, and the Palestinian phone companies lowered their rates for calls made to Lebanon to encourage Palestinians to vote for Hassan.  

Some members of Hamas, however, have voiced disapproval of such displays of frivolity while Palestinians are under occupation.  Hassan, as well, seems to be too aware of the tragic reality.  When asked why he always appears sad, he said, "It is hard to keep a wide smile on my face while my people are getting killed by the Israeli occupation forces in Gaza and the West Bank.”

Personally, as I shared a bowl of seeds and sipped on a fresh glass of lemonade at my neighbour’s house, I found myself swept up in the excitement.  For once, my Palestinian companions were not thinking of their families across the border, they were not swapping horror stories about losing residency status or being rejected for a visa application.  They were not yearning for a lost home or mourning a dead relative. They were singing, laughing and having good old, blatant fun.  

I was delighted to see some flickering rays of normalcy for those who have known nothing but hardships.  I hope Hassan wins the title next Sunday and I hope there will be a celebration in the streets of Palestine.  A little bit of fun might help to brighten up the long dark night.

Part III Selling the US in Amman

Index & Introduction Reports from Amman Jordan My Palestinian Diary

Part V Exclusive Interview with Palestinian Justice Minister Nahed al-Rayyes