This city continues to amaze me. There is an air of intrigue which engulfs the visitor and compels them to form an emotional respect and bond with the place almost inherently. The union although not recognizable at first is nonetheless immediate.

This all persists, untainted by the dismal situation surrounding the city. Intra-Palestinian fighting is exacerbated by civil strife and violations of human rights suffered at the hands of the Israeli occupation. The most imposing pillar of occupation takes the shape of a giant wall which encircles Jerusalem and dissects 8.5% of the West Bank, further protecting 87% of Israeli settlements. This ‘seam zone’ accompanied by some 546 checkpoints in the West Bank more importantly separate Palestinian from Palestinian, husband from wife and brother from sister. In addition there is Gaza, which following bloody confrontations between Hamas and Fatah, is in a state of disarray, an enclosed prison of poverty and turmoil.

Amidst the tragedy, as is apparent in Ramallah, there exists a brief remedy and relief for this disastrous state of affairs. Through the smoke of discontent rises the invisible yet soothing melody of instruments.

It has been a month since I touched down at Ben Gurion airport and made my way past the Wall and through the Kalandia checkpoint to Ramallah. This beautiful city, devoid of efficient infrastructure in places and plagued with social, economic and political issues was to become my home. I was not expecting there to be much in the way of similarities between my previous home London, and Ramallah which is why I was so surprised to hear that there was a performance in Ramallah the following evening of Faure’s Requiem by the Jerusalem Choir.

In retrospect I should not have been so naïve, however I had regrettably conformed to popular sentiment and the assumption in the West that life only revolves around occupation. Instead I had stumbled upon the London of Palestine for cultural events and activities. This concert was only to mark the beginning of a two-week extravaganza of musical performances encompassing a vast myriad of styles.

The Jerusalem choir’s recital of Faure’s Requiem held special relevance for me as it was a piece of music which I had sung on many occasions in the past. I love the way Faure manages to portray death so masterfully through the medium of music and I was surprised at the undertaking of such a demanding piece.

Demanding indeed, seemed to be the word to epitomize the show. The young, recently formed orchestra battled on in heroic fashion and the conductor was full on enthusiasm but unfortunately the choir was flat and appeared unconfident about what they were singing. Nevertheless, there was one moment of ecstasy when a young Canadian girl took to the podium and sang absolutely flawlessly.

Global acclaim was not the priority for me watching the performance. The atmosphere and setting was paramount. I sat there, in a church in the middle of Ramallah, amongst Palestinians, all joined in musical awe and appreciation, listening to a powerful piece about ‘eternal death’ and pleading for God to free them. It seemed so apt that a Palestinian based choir (with a few international helpers and sympathizers) was singing about death at a time when their own nation’s future hangs in the balance. That was the beautiful aspect of the performance and why it was such a fitting initiation into music in Ramallah.

There was no time to reflect or ponder on the Jerusalem choir, as I was whisked away to the only joint German/French Cultural Centre in the World. [Although it pains me to say as a Brit, the French and Germans do so much to promote cultural activities in Ramallah]. They are the group responsible for the ‘fêtes de la musique’, a successful program of musical and theatrical shows in Ramallah and the surrounding areas.

After nearly an hour of introductions and translations between the Palestinian Minister of Culture, the French Consulate and other figureheads, the show got under way with a group called ‘Turab’. This local group combined Middle Eastern traditional sounds with very modern lyrics. Watching them exposed me, for the first time, to the wonders of the oud. The instrument is completely unique; therefore describing it as similar to a guitar hardly does it justice. Turab’s lead singer had an incredible voice which when accompanied with the other instruments mixed to create an authentic Mideast sound.

Next were a group of young kids from a refugee camp who had been taught local instruments by social workers. By far the most interesting individual was the accordion player in the group, donning a multicolored kuffieh and moving his fingers around his instrument with an expert’s touch. At one point he received applause for his solo then stopped half way through the song to usher people to move out the way so that his family could see him play. I looked back at his family and the pride on their faces and the contentment and happiness on the boy’s caused me to forget the music they were playing and focus on how it managed to invoke such emotion.

A few days later I was taken to the old city. Unlike the rest of Ramallah, which boasts grandiose new buildings, the old city has barely been disturbed by the winds of time. The scene was something completely picturesque; a flat roof top in the old city, renovated with a semi arch to create vital acoustics for the musicians. Surrounding me on all sides were the rooftops of other residences in the old city, the red sun descending in the west behind a minaret. The air was cool and uncharacteristically for Ramallah, quiet. We had found a place of refuge where no sounds of traffic, fireworks or gunfire could be heard. The musicians could proceed undisturbed.

For an hour and a half, the audience was blessed with a delightful ensemble of classical music. The conveyers of this offering were a bassoonist, cellist, violinist, violist and flute player, all French save the exceptional violist Peter, an American genuinely upset that he can only provide his musical services occasionally. The recital would have been uninterrupted from start to finish if not for the Muslim call to evening prayer, which punctuated the flowing melodies. Given that the call to prayer comes in tandem with the setting of the sun, perhaps it is the latter, which is to blame for the interruption.

The biggest and most popular cultural event to date has to have been the Souad Massi concert at the Ramallah Cultural Palace, an 800 seated theatre, completely sold out. I personally, have never been an avid listener of world music, but this Algerian singer was apparently revered all around the world for her songs. I had no idea what kind of music to expect.

Four figures emerged from the darkness, winding through the eager audience guided by torches on miner like helmets. They were a French based hip-hop group called MAP (Ministere des Affaires Populaires) and a most welcomed surprise. The music possessed a great fusion with the French accordion playing in an Arabic style complemented by the authentically dressed, equally impressive violinist. The two MC’s were energetic personalities mixing political themes and humor with impressive free flowing lyrics. Their music just proved that one doesn’t have to understand the lyrics to comprehend the music. Music is universal and everyone enjoys clapping along to a catchy beat. To my dismay, their CD even sold out at the interval!

Souad Massi’s entrance was met with deafening applause. Her music encompassed everything from rock, jazz and easy listening to traditional Arabic; it was a complete hybrid. Her voice was tantalizing, hypnotic with an ability to create such a calming atmosphere. The whole group was fantastic; the bassist, the drummer and especially the pony tail sporting guitarist who was superb with his riffs of all styles and the tableh player, who not only was a master of his instrument, but possessed a voice with so much emotion and hidden pain, it was hard not to be moved. A group gathered at the corner of the stage where she was to receive the biggest compliment for an artist – hearing your songs sung back to you. It was the only concert I have ever been to where an ‘encore’ meant more than one song. To Souad Massi, it meant five!

Finally, of all the cultural activities in Ramallah I experienced in the first two weeks, a deserved mention must be extended to a young four-piece group I heard play. Each of the children could not have been over 13 years of age and yet, they played their instruments - the oud, violin, tableh and qanun with such maturity and expertise, it was as if they had been practicing for years. The 400-strong crowd just watched on in bewilderment at the talent of these young Palestinians. What talent graces the land of Palestine?

There is a wealth, yet it is often overlooked. The youth are overshadowed by stories of feuding Palestinians and the cruel nature of the Israeli occupation. A whole generation is disappearing from Palestine, frustrated with the restrictions and limitations imposed on them by the occupying authority. In all likelihood these talented young musicians will find themselves studying in the US, unable to acquire sufficient secondary education here. This will constitute yet another crime in addition to those that already plague this area.

Music, as Ramallah has proven, is a vital mode of escapism for the people. It allows them to concentrate on something as pure and as incorruptible as music. While the music produced by mortal hands drifts into the realms of immortality, the people can shift gears and just for a few moments, be free.

It matters not whether the music can be understood. In the Souad Massi concert it was different, as she seemed to be really singing something which not only the audience related to but were emotionally involved with. I listened as she let them sing on their own. The voices from the audience were in perfect unison, entirely familiar with each other, bound to each other as victims and as music lovers. Music, by nature, has no language barriers.

We live in an age where there are many modern interpretations of the importance of music. Some identify life as not worth living without music. These are just feeble attempts by pseudo-aesthetic individuals to be original and reinforce their individual bond with music. Of course, life would continue without music. Palestine more than anywhere else attests to this fact. However, music is needed, here more than anywhere else; it is imperative and contrary to popular belief, it does exist and the standard is excellent. Even as I write, there is a week long music festival of Irish, Syrian, German, French and local music reaching its final phase. To borrow the words of the nineteenth century American political leader and Memorial Day pioneer, John A. Logan;

And what a powerful healing remedy it has proven to be here.