At this year’s Tamaas Festival, Aïta Mon Amour electrified its audience by bridging the past and the present. The duo, composed of Widad Mjama, one of the first female Moroccan rap pioneers, and Khalil EPI, a Tunisian instrumentalist, delivered a musical performance that merged Aïta, a century-old oral tradition, with modern electronic beats. This bridge of tradition and modernity challenged the static conceptions of tradition by proving that heritage can evolve instead of being confined in nostalgia. Aïta, meaning “cry” or “call” in the Moroccan dialect, has long been the sound of both political defiance and human longing sung by Sheikhat - women who preserved Morocco’s rural blues while carrying the stigma of societal rebellion. Cherishing her love for Aïta from a young age, Widad developed an eternal love for the sound and became a torchbearer of this tradition. “A Sheikha is more than an artist. Sheikha is a living memory that must be preserved and cherished as the emblem of freedom lost in our modern times,” explained Widad. However, she does not aim to replicate this sound; instead, she strives to transform and reinvent it. Khalil’s musical background in classical Arabic music and Jazz makes their music much more than a simple preservation act. During their guest speaking session in the “Youth in the Middle East” class, the duo spoke about their past and beginnings. Widad, who grew up in Casablanca with a family that had just moved from the countryside, first encountered hip-hop culture through rap cassettes recorded and brought from the U.S. Khalil, raised in an artistic Tunisian family, grew up surrounded by diverse musical genres, drawing inspiration from the many records in his home. Khalil and Wadid’s paths eventually merged in France, where they studied and discovered a shared desire to bridge between ancestral sounds and contemporary expression. For the duo, persevering culture means looking within and resisting the urge to freeze it in time. “We need to experience music beyond the beginning of sound recording,” Khalil explained. “Sound has evolved since the existence of mankind as an art and a form of expression.” Their approach is not meant to create nostalgia but to keep its continuity. Even with rock and rap from the Western cultures finding their way to the Moroccan Youth, Aïta is still an integral part of the local culture. The duo refuses to let music labels dictate their identity and resists the industry’s pressure to categorize them as solely rap or rock. “We are doing what we think is right,” they insisted. “We are doing Aïta music.” Beyond music, they explained how their work is political, speaking about identity and resistance. As a Moroccan woman, Widad discussed the barriers she faced. She recalled a time when she was standing at a bus stop on her way to perform at a festival in the Netherlands, where out of a hundred artists, only ten were women. However, she refuses to adopt the narrative of escape - that Moroccan women must flee to Europe to be recognized - and stays honest to her story. She has built her art on her own terms. However, she hopes that one day, she might see streets in Morocco named after Sheikhat, like they are named after important female leaders in the Muslim world. Aïta is not only a collection of passionate laments but, also, a tale of political, societal, and economic developments that have marked Morocco’s history. Chadi Saadoun is a Contributing Writer. Email them at feedback@thegazelle.org.