CAIRO: Half a century after her death, Umm Kulthum’s singular voice still echoes through busy streets in Egypt, across time-worn cafes in Iraq, and in millions of homes from Morocco to Oman.
“As long as people listen to music, there will be Umm Kulthum,” said Abu Ahmed, the manager of a Cairo cafe named after the Arab world’s most revered singer.
“She still lives in every song and every note,” he told AFP, adjusting the volume on an antique recorder as visitors to the historic bazaar the cafe is housed in peered in from outside.

Sepia-toned photographs of the icon adorn the walls of Abu Ahmed’s cafe, alongside posters from her concerts.
As her voice in her most famous ballad, “Enta Omri” (You’re My Life), rose to a crescendo, conversation around a nearby table fell to a hush.
“Umm Kulthum is the voice of the nation,” Aya Khamis, 36, whispered as she sipped her tea.
On a wooden stall just outside, a vendor laid out tiny figurines of Umm Kulthum and her orchestra.
Each piece was carefully crafted — musicians in sharp suits, miniature renditions of classical instruments the qanun and the oud, and Umm Kulthum herself, with her signature scarf and sunglasses.
“These are my bestsellers,” said Shadi Said, 37, holding up a figurine of the singer.

More than 1,000 kilometers (600 miles) away, the same music poured out of Baghdad’s own Umm Kulthum cafe — open since 1970, five years before the singer’s death at 76 plunged the Arab world into mourning.
Far away from her state funeral in Cairo, the cafe in Baghdad held its own ceremony for bereaved fans like Iraqi engineer Youssef Hamad.
Now 77 and retired, Hamad told AFP he still comes to the same cafe every day to listen to Umm Kulthum’s hours-long concerts.
Another cafe-goer, Khazaal Abu Ali, struggled to put his love for her into words.
“She once sang ‘if a day passes without seeing you, it can’t count toward my lifetime’. That is how I feel,” the 83-year-old said, his eyes tearing up.
“A day without her voice is a day that is lost.”
Born in 1898 in a small Nile Delta village, Umm Kulthum rose from humble beginnings to become the most celebrated voice in the Arab world.
Her father, an imam, recognized her talent early on, but fearing the ire of early 20th-century Egyptian society, disguised her as a boy so she could perform in public.
Her full-bodied voice and magnetic presence soon captivated audiences, and in the 1930s, she moved to Cairo.
Her music revolutionized Arabic music, as she blended classical poetry with grand orchestral arrangements.
But it was her improvizations that made her a legend, feeding off the audience’s energy in a hypnotic exchange, as she stretched and reprised verses.
Western musicians were also mesmerised, with Maria Callas, Robert Plant and Bob Dylan all paying tribute to her.
“She is one of my favorite singers of all time,” Dylan once said.
More recently, Shakira and Beyonce have sampled her songs.

Her influence was not just musical.
Her voice became the soundtrack of a transforming Egypt, embodying a nascent nationalism, spirit of unity and a new republican identity after the monarchy was toppled in 1952.
In 1967, she performed at L’Olympia in Paris to a sold-out crowd, and donated the huge profit from ticket sales to the Egyptian army for its war against Israel, then occupying the Sinai Peninsula.
“Umm Kulthum was more than just a singer,” said veteran art critic Magda Khairallah.
“She was a national figure. That is why people did not just call her Umm Kulthum — they called her El-Set (The Lady),” she told AFP.
This year, her story is set to return to the big screen in a new biopic starring Egyptian star Mona Zaki.
The film will portray her not just as a musician, but also as a feminist figure challenging societal norms.
Though she eventually married at 56, Umm Kulthum never had children.
In the 1940s she became the first woman to head Egypt’s Musicians’ Syndicate.
“She was a woman who held immense power in a male-dominated industry,” Fayza Hendawi, an art critic, told AFP.
“She was incredibly strong and completely in control of every detail — her songs, her image, her choices in life,” she added.
In Cairo, a bronze statue of Umm Kulthum stands looking out on the Nile River 50 years after her death, commanding and timeless.
Across the water, a museum dedicated to her legacy offers glimpses into her world.
Visitors marvel at her ornate gowns, notebooks and the diamond-encrusted sunglasses that became her signature look.
Roaming the museum’s halls are mostly teenagers, a new generation of music-lovers still as enthralled as their elders.
Rodina Mohamed, 15, paused in front of a display case holding one of the singer’s embroidered gowns.
“She was intentional about every detail — lyrics, melodies, performance,” she told AFP.
“That is why she still matters.”