This song is our second in the series of translations of songs from “Arab Spring 2.0,” the wave of protests and revolutions that took place in the Arab world in 2019, and which are still unfolding today. In our first post in this series, we looked at a song from Sudan, “Sallim Mafatih al-Balad,” where an older protest song by Muhammad Wardi was revived for the current circumstances. Now in this recording from Iraq, we find another old protest song being adapted to the present day: “Bella Ciao.” In this case, however, the song has followed a much stranger route, from the paddy fields of 19th century Italy to the streets of the modern Middle East, with Netflix as the crucial intermediary.
“Bella Ciao,” which as its title would suggest, was originally sung in Italian, began as a song of protest among agricultural laborers in the rice fields in Italy in the late 19th century. Later on, the song was adopted by Italian partisans fighting against the fascist regime in World War II, which helped popularize it as a song of resistance against tyranny.
But the current popularity of “Bella Ciao” stems from its use in the Spanish-language Netflix series La Casa de Papel, which first aired in 2017. Although a TV series about a money heist might seem a dubious inspiration for political protest, the show’s themes of resistance, outsmarting the authorities, and hijacking national institutions to place them at the service of the underdog struck a chord among viewers. Pretty soon, the show’s iconic look of red overalls and Salvador Dali masks could be seen popping up in protests in Spain, Latin America and as far afield as the Middle East. And with this uniform came the show’s signature song, “Bella Ciao.”
In most cases, protestors have been content to sing “Bella Ciao” in its original Italian, but in several countries in the Middle East, local performers have recast the song with Arabic lyrics tailored to the local situation. Among these efforts, the most polished production by far is the version by Iraq’s After the Darkness theater troupe. This Mosul-based group wanted to show their solidarity with the anti-government protests that broke out in Iraq in October 2019, and so mobilized their talents to help bring “Bella Ciao” to Iraq. Not only did they recast the song’s lyrics in Iraqi Arabic to express the grievances of Iraqis, they also produced a slick music video, complete with homemade Salvador Dali masks.
After the Darkness even found a way to adapt the song’s refrain “Bella Ciao” in Iraqi Arabic, by substituting the similar-sounding phrase “bilaya chara.” The word “chara,” which entered into Iraqi Arabic via the Persian word chareh (چاره), literally means “cure, remedy, solution,” with “bilaya chara” meaning “there’s no solution.” So when each section of the song concludes its list of laments with the phrase “bilaya chara,” it is expressing the frustrations of a generation of Iraqis who see no clear solution for the country’s woes.
I haven’t realized my dreams |
حلمي ما شفته |
I left my studies |
والدرس عفته |
My situation is crap, with no solution |
وضعيتي كفته بلاية چارة |
They plundered my fair share |
حصتي سلبوني |
They made me forget my name |
اسمي نسّوني |
The tears of my eyes have no solution |
دمعات عيوني بلاية چارة |
My rights have been stolen |
حقوقي مسلوبة |
My situation’s stuck [1] |
وضعيتي طوبة |
I don’t even have a heating lamp, there’s no solution |
ما عندي صوبة بلاية چارة |
They have no job for me |
تعيين مغلّس |
My pockets are empty |
والجيب مفلّس |
So why should I study? There’s no solution |
چا إلمن أدرس؟ بلاية چارة |
They stole my daily bread |
برزقي سلبوني |
They stole my rights |
حقي باگوني |
I died, believe me, there’s no solution |
متت صدقوني بلاية چارة |
My brothers have left |
إخواني راحوا |
My women have broken out in screams |
نسواني صاحوا |
My children have fallen on hard times, there’s no solution |
وأولادنا طاحوا بلاية چارة |
My boss doesn’t say a word |
مسؤولي ساكت |
The situation is shady |
والوضع خابط |
The future no longer has a solution |
مستقبل صار بلاية چارة |
Show me a solution |
والحل فهموني |
They’re going to kill me |
راح يعلسوني |
I protest and speak out without a solution |
أتظاهر واحجي بلاية چارة |
I want a peaceful movement |
سلمية رايد |
And Hajj Zahed |
والحج زاهد |
They beat him while he was sitting, there’s no solution |
ضربوه وگاعد ماكو چارة |
My country is recovering |
وطني يتعافى |
We’re living and cleaning things up |
نعيش ونتصافى |
We’ll find a solution for everything that has happened |
كل اللي صار نشوفله چارة |
[1] The word طوبة literally means “ball,” as in a soccer ball for example, but in this context it refers to something that is always the same and never changing.