Sulaf is a singer, oud player, and composer from Sudan.
Caragh Bell caught up with her ahead of her Irish debut at Skibbereen Arts Festival on Saturday 25th July at 8pm in Skibbereen Town Hall.
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You started singing at school as a child. What kind of music did you grow up with?
Traditional Sudanese folk traditions and Nubian rhythms. Nubia is in the north of Sudan, just on the border with Egypt, and is one of the world’s oldest civilisations. Nubian sounds carry stories of forced exile as people were driven from their homes near the Nile. The music I play today is very similar.
What age did you learn to play the oud?
I started playing when I was thirteen. The oud is the ancestor of the lute, shaped like a pear, with no frets. You pluck the strings. It’s central to my sound.
Your great-grandfather Abdelazim was a Sufi poet. Can you tell us about him?
Sufi poetry is so beautiful, it’s very mystical, and is all about love and the connection with the divine. You know Rumi, right? He’s a Sufi poet. My great-grandfather’s songs were part of family life when I was growing up. It influenced me a lot.
You went to Paris on a short creative residency in 2022. What happened?
It was a creative residency for three months. I packed a small bag, nothing much. I didn’t have plans to stay. Then the war broke out in Sudan and I couldn’t go back. The rest of my family got out, but my extended family are still there. This war has displaced about 14 million people.
How did that feel?
Hard, especially at the start. I felt isolated. I didn’t speak the language and I had not been prepared to stay long. It took a while to adapt to French culture. The first two years were really difficult but it got better after that.
Who did you work with in Paris?
Maxime Kosinetz. He’s produced and co-wrote several songs on my album. Marion Chapdelaine also helped me creatively at the start. Maxime and Marion were my main support when I first arrived in Paris.
Your album, ABA, is built on your grandfather’s poetry. What are the main themes?
A link to divine love. The link between us and God, the love and devotion. I sing in Arabic but that doesn’t matter. The music speaks and unites us all. One song is about when his daughter got married and moved away, and how he missed her. It moves between longing for people and longing for God. The ache of missing someone or somewhere. I called the album after him. ABA: Abdelazim Sahed Ahmed.
You’ve worked with Tinariwen and Imarhan, the former a Tuareg band from Mali, and the latter, a Tuareg band from Algeria. How did they shape you?
Hugely. Both bands write about exile and conflict, so I really relate to their songs. Tinariwen are the pioneers of this music, and very famous. Imarhan are the next generation, carrying this sound forward. I met them in 2019 and we clicked. I collaborated with them, shaping music, and it taught me so much about their modes and scales. It changed how I play.
What has been the best moment of your career so far?
Opening for Tinariwen. I’d always been a big fan. They are so famous. After my first show with them, I came off stage and found Ibrahim, their leader, clapping. That was the best moment for me. He’s a hero of mine.
You’ve been quoted as saying that you’re “a vessel for the songs of the women of Sudan”. What do you mean?
It comes from a few places. One is manahat, mourning songs, sung by women who are crying and dancing for someone who has passed. Music has always been present in my culture, and I think every Sudanese’s person has been held by their grandmother and told stories before they sleep, and those stories carried a song inside them. For me, that’s what it is: the songs of my grandmother and mother while I was a child. Hearing those women, whether they are crying or celebrating, shaped how I sing now.
What would be surprised to know about you?
I’m a really good dancer, we have a special traditional dance from my village.
Will you dance in Skibbereen?
Yes, I’ll do it on stage.
