JEDDAH: Berlin-based Palestinian singer-songwriter Aya Samra’s latest single, “Madina” is a reflection on identity, belonging, and the realization that home is something carried within.
“I was moving in Germany a lot; so many apartments and so many cities,” Samra tells Arab News. “I was searching for a place where I could feel at home. Every time I went to another city or another apartment, I built something inside that felt like home. That’s how I realized that I am ‘Madina’ — I’m carrying my whole family, my whole life and my whole culture, and I put it everywhere I go.”
The song mirrors Samra’s own journey. Born to a Palestinian family in Syria before later settling in Germany, she says living in Europe has made her even more aware of her roots.
“When people asked me where I was from, I would say, ‘I’m from Palestine, but I was born in Syria,’” she explains. “I always felt, like, ‘I’m not from here, not from there, not from anywhere.’”
Those feelings became the emotional foundation of “Madina,” turning what first appears to be a song simply about a city into one about memory, displacement and self-discovery.
Its sound reflects that same duality. Drawing on the emotional depth of Arabic tarab while incorporating flamenco guitar, the track blends traditions that might seem worlds apart but feel entirely natural in Samra’s hands.
Berlin-based Palestinian singer-songwriter Aya Samra’s latest single, “Madina” is a reflection on identity, belonging, and the realization that home is something carried within. (Photo credit: Dan Chitanta)
“I grew up in a very ‘tarab’ house,” she says. “I was singing those songs before I even understood every word.”
While no one in her family pursued music professionally, singing was a constant activity in their home, Samra says. Her father introduced her to legendary Arab performers, surrounding her with the sounds of tarab.
After moving to Germany, she found herself equally captivated by blues, jazz and flamenco. “It came very naturally,” she says. “It became a mix between the Syrian Aya and Germany. Anything that serves the feeling of the song, I will take it, but I will always mix it with something Arabic because that’s me.”
After moving to Germany, she found herself equally captivated by blues, jazz and flamenco. (Supplied)
Samra first attracted global attention with a spontaneous beatboxer-backed performance that amassed millions of views online. Despite that, however, at a time when music is increasingly designed for quick consumption on social media, Samra says she has little interest in chasing viral trends. For her, success is measured not by hits, but by whether a song leaves an emotional imprint.
“We are in a very, very fast generation,” she says. “Everyone is trying to make something that reaches people faster. That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid.”
Instead, she hopes younger listeners will rediscover the emotional richness of tarab.
Samra first attracted global attention with a spontaneous beatboxer-backed performance that amassed millions of views online. (Supplied)
“It makes you slow down. It makes you sit with your grandmother, have coffee and really listen,” she says. “It’s very important to keep that culture alive. Maybe it won’t become a trend, but at least some of us are protecting this beautiful part of our music.”
Samra believes vulnerability is essential to creating music that connects with others, regardless of where they come from. “I never cared about people’s opinions about what I’m feeling,” she says. “If you want to touch people’s hearts, you have to share your story. You’ll find millions of people carrying the same feelings.”
While writing “Madina,” she found herself thinking particularly about women, especially Arab women, searching for confidence and belonging. “I wanted to tell every woman: ‘You are stronger than you think. Don’t say you can’t. You can.’ That’s how I speak to myself,” she says. “And that’s how I want to speak to every woman who listens.”
With “Madina,” Samra has created a deeply personal work, but one that speaks to anyone who has ever searched for home, only to discover that, sometimes, the place they were looking for had been inside them all along.
