Musical Fragments: Yoni Avi Battat Sings about His Grandmother’s Iraqi Food

Lyrics and translation:

Where do I start, how do I learn?

You seem so far, and so I yearn

To burn my tongue on sauce just right

To feel you here in every bite.

Parsley and mint, lemon and beets,

Baharat [a spice mix] and dates, it needs something sweet.

Your scribbled notes are guiding the way.

If you were here, what would you say?

Shway, shway, ’bdalak                        [slowly, slowly, my dear]

Khuth-ha ‘ala keifak, ‘omri                  [take it easy, my life]

Ḥiss al-‘ajin, ‘ayouni                            [feel the dough, my eyes]

Khaliya ‘ala idak, ḥabibi                      [trust your hands, my love]

Ḥiss al-‘ajin, ‘ayouni                            [feel the dough, my eyes]

Khaliya ‘ala idak, ḥabibi                      [trust your hands, my love]

Excerpt from Yoni Avi Battat’s album notes for Fragments:

https://yoniavibattat.bandcamp.com/album/fragments

Growing up in an American Jewish community dominated by European culture, I had very little access to the music, language, and traditions of my Iraqi-Jewish ancestors. As an adult, I’ve had to make a concerted effort to learn Arabic music and language in order to represent my Arab-Jewish ancestry as a musician. Studying these musical traditions has connected me deeply with my roots, but there are still so many parts of my family’s experience that I will never know about. I can no longer ask my grandparents about their life in Baghdad or their departure from Iraq. I can’t visit the land where my ancestors lived for thousands of years.

So, how do we access memories that we don’t remember? How do we connect with the lost generations of ancestors we never met, whose rituals we never experienced, and whose voices we never heard? How do we overcome the fragmenting forces of migration, lost languages, colonialism, assimilation, and erasure? How do we find beauty amongst the broken pieces?

Through the lens of these questions, the present album was born. As you experience these original and traditional pieces, I invite you to approach memory in a new way—not through exact facts, dates, and photos, but through your senses, through your imagination. Allow these smells, textures, tastes, and sounds to transport you to a place and time you have never been. When we cannot access the specific details of our families’ stories, our imagination can still bring us a real and intimate connection with where we come from.

For many years, I have felt like I am rediscovering the music, language, and traditions of my family as an outsider. But through my creative process, I have learned to recognize that fragmentation is a valid and meaningful part of my experience in this world—both in its pain and in its beauty. As you reflect on your own fragmentation, perhaps you too might be able to tap into the healing power of this music, using your imagination to fill in the cracks between the missing pieces of your own stories.