Raising Her Voice
Listening Post 378. Often faulted for kitsch, the Eurovision Song Contest achieved gravitas in 2016 when organizers stood up to Russian protests over Ukraine’s winning entry, 1944, about Stalin’s deportation of 200,000 Crimean Tatars to central Asia during World War II. Performed by Jamala, the song cast a harsh light not only on the Soviet era but implicitly on Russia’s 2014 seizure of Crimea from Ukraine. For Jamala, 1944 was not only history but also personal. The singer-songwriter’s family spent decades in exile; she was six years old when Tatars were permitted to return to their home peninsula in 1989. Growing up, she listened to folk, jazz and pop, and sang while herding sheep every day after school. At university she studied opera, and her inspirational arc runs from Bach to Björk to Britney Spears. Jamala’s first six albums were in Ukrainian, Russian and English, but with renewed Russian harassment, arrests and pressure to leave Crimea after the 2014 invasion, she focused her luxurious voice on Crimean Tatar culture, researching traditional songs that echo the region’s ports and trade routes, steppes and mountain villages. Her latest album, Qirim (Crimea)—performed entirely in Crimean Tatar—is a folk epic that she debuted in Kyiv with Ukraine’s National Symphony Orchestra. The 14 tracks highlight loyalty, betrayal and separation—themes that in the lyrics apply to personal relationships but in metaphor allude to a subjugated homeland. In Alim she hails a folk hero who transferred wealth from rich to poor (video 1). Hard journeys animate the sweeping cadences of Dağlarnıñ Yolları (Mountain Paths, video 2), the tender entreaties Yosmam (My Beauty, video 3), and the ancestral wisdom of Gider Iseñ (If You Must Go, video 4). And Çalbaş Bora (Old Windy, video 5) reminds us that even an unsuccessful voyage brings valuable experience. Qirim didn’t please everyone: After its release Russia put Jamala on its wanted list—adding to the stature of a new folk hero. (Universal Music Polska)

Jamala / Джама́ла: Qirim / Crimea
Jamala (Susana Alimivna Jamaladinova): Vocals, creative producer, sound producer, arranger
Artem Roschenko: Composer, arranger
Kiril Karabits: Conductor
Alim Dzhalamadinov: Vocals
Seit-Jelil Umerov: Violin
Alim Kurtmemetov: Clarinet, blacksmith, duduk
Ibraim Ipekchiev: Trumpet
Shevket Zmorka: Accordion
Marlen Khalilov: Daire, percussion
National Chamber Ensemble Kyiv Soloists

Alim
From the album notes: Alim is a Crimean Tatar folk hero. Like Robin Hood, he took ill-gotten wealth from the rich and gave it to the poor. The song is set in the 19th century in Karasubazar (Bilohirsk), one of the main cities of the Crimean Khanate, located at the intersection of important trade routes. One day news spread in the city that someone had wished Alim to die, and the rumor quickly gained momentum. So admired was the hero that when someone said the news was true, people shouted back, “Die yourself, then!”

(From the lyrics in Crimean Tatar)
“Alim, Alim!” I repeat
I have lost my apetite
Let the Frankish doctor come
To heal my wounded heart

Aman, Alim, oh, oh!
Gorgeous Alim, oh!

Now Alim sharpens his scythe
Drinks cold water from the lake
The hot July sun
Burns right through his hat

Aman, Alim, oh, oh!
Gorgeous Alim, oh!

Now Alim goes to the bazaar
Many there give him the eye
If any do not wish him well
May they all go straight to hell!

Aman, Alim, oh, oh!
Gorgeous Alim, oh!

Dağlarnıñ Yolları / Mountain Paths
Album notes: A song about loyalty and devotion is linked with Bakhchysarai (Eski Kerem), located in the inner range of the Crimean Mountains. “Mountain roads are not trouble-free—they are full of thorns…” No matter what happens to the hero on his way, he will still overcome all obstacles to be with his sweetheart.

The mountain paths are full of thorns
May he who put them in my way
Be stricken blind
Oh, my dark-eyed darling!

Dark eyes burn bright, black brows arch high
Oh, my dark-eyed darling!
No one’s hand but mine will touch you
No one’s, my beloved, my heart’s delight

The mountain paths are lined with tulips
You drive me crazy with love
Oh, my dark-eyed darling!

Yosmam / My Beauty
Album notes: Aqyar (Sevastopol) is Crimea’s largest city and main port, the starting point of many long journeys. Yosman is about a man who asks his sweetheart not to bemoan him during their separation, to believe in his happy return: “Please, my beauty, don’t shed tears for me—I will return, believe me, leave your worries behind.”

The strings of my kemanche are well-tuned
Well-tuned, my beauty
If I leave here, I will be back, don’t weep for me
Don’t weep, my beauty

I play the kemanche until my fingers bleed
My fingers bleed, my beauty
My girl, will you at least look my way?
I beg you, my beauty

Snows fall in the lowlands, fall and stay
My love went wandering, he’s still away
Snows fall in the valley — are you cold?
Think of the consequences, traveler so bold

Gider Iseñ / If You Must Go
Album notes: Also from the trade route city of Karasubazar, the song cites the wisdom of the ancestors on the difficulty of life’s choices: “If you go out on the road, don’t cry. If you fall, get up and go forward. Don’t cry when you’ve made a decision… Go!”

If you must go, may fortune go with you
May your path be as free and boundless as the sea
If you should love another one but me
May both your eyes go blind

My home is here, in Karasuvbazar
Send me your news, and I will write you mine
If I should love another one but you
May I burn in my grave

If you must go, may fortune go with you
No one will bar your way
Remember what our ancestors taught us:
“Decide, and no more weeping or complaints”

Çalbaş Bora / Old Windy
Album notes: Kerch is one of the oldest cities in Ukraine and Crimea, at various points under Greek, Byzantine, Genoese and Ottoman rule. The song tells the story of a camel who ends a journey in the historic city. Despite a lively tune, the moral of the story is that the camel is the only one who provides for the whole family. On this voyage the camel kept going off the path to eat thorns. As a result, the owner was late to the market, lost money—and blamed the camel for everything. But he wasn’t especially angry; he just shrugged, saying: “Well, what are we supposed to do, you are such a poor, foolish camel…”

The Kerch road winds up and down
Old Windy stops and will not budge
If cruel Memesh was here, and not me
You’d run like a racehorse, Old Windy

You’d plod and plod on flattened hooves
Your big fat knees are the size of my head
If this mountain were made of camel food
You’d eat the whole thing, Old Windy

The Kerch road hides in the dusk
My camels are scattered from here to the sea
I’ve lost all my loads and a lot of money
All your doing, Old Windy!