“They Still Live in Our Hearts”: Why Upper Egypt Won’t Let Its Hajj Songs Die
What happens when 22 million YouTube views meet centuries of tradition? Upper Egypt’s pilgrimage songs face an uncertain future.
By Amani Khairy
“Where are you going, lady? one of the velvet shawl?”
“I am going to visit Prophet Muhammad. I am going to the honourable Kaaba.”
This traditional call-and-response has echoed across Upper Egypt for generations. Sung by professional singers, religious chanters, and pilgrims themselves during farewell ceremonies, it is one of the most enduring songs in Egypt’s folk repertoire. While many artists have performed it, most famously Fatima Eid Upper Egyptian singers have made it their own, adding new verses to fit local meter and rhyme. Among all the governorates of Upper Egypt, Luxor has the richest claim to this tradition.
“Fatima, O Fatima”: A Song of Longing
One of Luxor’s most iconic contributions comes from the late Rabie Baraka, a legendary figure in Upper Egyptian folk singing. By day, he worked as an agricultural engineer. By night, he was one of the most famous performers of “kaf” singing—a percussive, hand-clapping style unique to the region. Baraka passed away last year, but his songs live on. His “Pilgrims’ Zaffa” (processional song) and his hymn to the well of Zamzam are still heard at religious occasions.
“Zamzam… Zamzam,” the song goes. “O you who intend to visit Taha (the Prophet)… Convey my greetings to him. Tell him your lover is longing. Sleep has been forbidden from his eyes.”
Luxor also gave us Gaber Al-Azeb, from the Esna Center, whose farewell songs have become staples. In “Fatima, O Fatima,” he sings:
“Fatima, O Fatima, daughter of Al-Tahami,
Open the gate. Your father has called me.
Fatima, O Fatima, daughter of the Prophet…
Open the gate. Your loved ones have called me.”
12 Pilgrimage Songs in an Upper Egyptian Key
Mahmoud Gomaa is one of the most prominent Upper Egyptian singers of the past decade. Though he is from Luxor, his fame has spread across Egypt and beyond. He began singing at village celebrations when he was just 18 years old. Now 46, he has spent nearly three decades refining his craft.
In an interview with Bab Masr, he explained how he came to record an entire tape dedicated to Hajj and Umrah. “I included twelve songs on one cassette,” he said. “Some are from the traditional heritage. Others were written for me. And I added new verses to the old classic, ‘Where Are You Going, O Lady.'”
Why have his pilgrimage songs become so beloved? Gomaa credits his Upper Egyptian vocal style and dialect. “They touch the pilgrims’ feelings,” he said. “They add joy to the journey to God’s holy house.”
Among his most famous is “Congratulations, O Pilgrim”:
“Congratulations, O pilgrim, may you enjoy it—
A blessed pilgrimage, may God grant it to you.
You are going to the lands of Hejaz,
And with you, coming and going, all your loved ones return.”
Another begins with a traveller calling to a ship:
“On the shore, wait for me, O ship—
I am going to visit Taha, our Prophet.
Let me fill my eyes with the sight of the beautiful one.”
And then there is the song that started it all: “Where Are You Going, O Lady.”
“Where are you going, O lady, mother of the lemon shawl?”
“I am going to visit the Prophet, my son, and fill my eyes.”
“Where are you going, O lady, mother of the sky-blue shawl?”
“I am going to visit the Prophet, then return to the canal people.”
Ahmed Hassan: The Young Chanter Bridging Old and New
A newer voice has risen from Luxor’s music scene. Ahmed Hassan, a young religious chanter, has achieved remarkable success by blending the old and the new.
“I grew up listening to religious songs from Upper Egypt and beyond,” Hassan told Bab Masr. “I listened to chanters from all over the Arab world. And I studied the hymns of Al-Naqshabandi.”
But he never wanted simply to imitate. So he created a style that mixes traditional folk singing with modern production. The result, he says, is “meaningful, simple lyrics that people can easily hear and connect with.”
He has written and composed four works about Hajj and Umrah, plus additional songs for Ramadan. Remarkably, he says he can finish the lyrics for a single song in just two days. Many of these songs have gone viral across the Arab world—not just in Egypt, but in Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and the UAE.
Hassan also pays close attention to his visual identity. For performances and music videos, he wears a Yemeni turban and a traditional gallabiya. His first song, he says, reached 22 million views.
One of his most popular is also called “Congratulations, O Pilgrim.”
“O master of the poor—and I am one of them—
I will visit you no matter what they say.
O you who are going to the guiding Prophet,
Convey my greetings to Al-Nubadi.”
In “O You Who Are Going to the Beloved,” he sings:
“O you who have attained Hajj, may you enjoy it—
Your Lord’s favor and your mother’s prayers are upon you.
O you who are going to the beloved,
Take my soul with you. Let it find peace.”
And in “My Lord, Answer My Prayers”:
“My Lord, answer my prayers.
Fulfill my hope and my wish.
I want to visit the best of creation.
Just to see his station—that would be enough for me.”
Hassan also released a music video featuring two young children, titled “Be Glad.” It became a major hit.
“Be glad, O you who are going to the Messenger of God.
O you with the white heart—you have finally attained your wish.
Do not forget my greetings while you are with him.
O my brother, take me to him. My heart is already there.”
Popularity Is Not a Measure of Quality: A Critical Voice
Not everyone is celebrating the current state of pilgrimage music. Poet and heritage researcher Adel Saber offers a more skeptical view.
“We still preserve the old Hajj songs,” Saber acknowledges. “That is because they are true heritage—passed down for generations. They are still alive today. Unlike some new songs, which come and go.”
But then he adds a sharp critique. Popularity, he insists, “is by no means a measure of quality.”
“There are inherited Sufi songs that have never even been sung publicly,” Saber told Bab Masr. “And some of them cannot be sung in a popular style at all.”
Saber believes the songs being produced today are weak. “The public is thirsty for this kind of music,” he says. “But they can no longer tell the difference between strong songs and weak ones.”
His most provocative claim is this: “All those performing today are not real singers. They are merely performers. The music has overwhelmed the voice. What comes out is just sound effects.”
He also laments what young people have lost. “They do not memorize the old songs anymore,” he says. “They only want fast rhythms, loud music, and stick dancing.”
The Lost Art of the “Musical Series”
Saber points to a forgotten form of heritage: what he calls the “musical series.” These were extended song cycles that followed pilgrims from the moment they left their homes, through the farewell, all the way to the doves of Mecca, the Zamzam well, and even imagined conversations between Fatima Al-Zahra and her father, the Prophet Muhammad.
Over the years, different artists took turns singing different parts of these cycles. The most famous performers included Gaber Al-Azeb, Gehlan Abu Al-Magd, and Mohamed Kamal Al-Qanawi.
Saber is critical of contemporary singers who perform these old songs without acknowledging their origins. “They present heritage music as if they composed it themselves,” he says.
Why Upper Egypt Holds a Special Place for Pilgrimage Songs
Poet and researcher Abdel Sattar Selim offers a broader historical explanation.
“Pilgrims’ songs in Upper Egypt hold a special place,” Selim says. “They still live in our conscience and our hearts. Time, with all its force, has not been able to erase them.”
According to Selim, the uniqueness of Upper Egyptian pilgrimage culture has deep roots. “First, there is geographical proximity to African tribes,” he explains. “Upper Egyptians were influenced by the diverse cultures and arts of those tribes—in singing, drum rhythms, dance, and even decoration with bird feathers.”
Second, he points to a forgotten historical role: Upper Egypt was a gateway for pilgrims from North Africa. “The region used to receive pilgrims coming from the Maghreb,” Selim says. “They traveled along what was known as the Egyptian Hajj route—through Safaga, Qus, and Al-Qusair—on their way to Hejaz.”
During those long journeys, travelers exchanged songs, stories, and memories. They heard chants associated with the Hajj season. They saw murals on house facades documenting the pilgrim’s journey. And they carried home narratives passed down through grandparents and aunts who had made the journey themselves.
The result is a folk culture that varies from region to region, colored by local nature and custom. But one thing remains constant across every village, city, and governorate.
“Everyone is attached to the Hajj and Umrah seasons,” Selim says. “They anticipate them. They wait for them with overwhelming longing.”
Even when the outward signs fade, he adds, “souls and hearts still yearn. They look forward to these seasons. Because the details of Hajj live inside the heart. And that is where they stay.”
