In this issue of Sekka Magazine, we shed a light on elements from our rich and wide-encompassing Khaleeji folklore, including customs, dances, music, folk stories and cultural beliefs that have inherited generation upon generation, through a new lens. We ask where they stand in 2021, particularly for the new generation of Khaleejis, the youth What does folklore mean to them today?
Letter from the editors
In order for Bahraini and Khaleeji dances not to die with the demise of many of the older generations who still practice them, Shareefa Al Zayani took it up on herself to research, learn and teach these dances.
What is the reason behind this dominance? And who is this Fairuz that the laywa chanters sing about, and why is he so important?
Maryam Al Shehhi speaks to the Omani artist about her unconventional art that bridges the Omani and the Indian civilizations.
Arts and culture
The 30-year-old is dedicated to capturing the Kingdom’s traditional ways of life.
The young Omani’s work is inspired by a country that is predominately young, and aims to depict the reality he experiences every day in his unique way.
The traditional Khaleeji garment is a focal point in this content maker’s photoshoots.
This Omani photographer captures the colorful outfits.
Meet the Saudi artist behind the Khaleeji Art Museum’s latest solo digital exhibition.
We delve into the inspiration behind this work.
This Kuwaiti digital artist’s work represents the culture of the Gulf and wider Arab world.
Being a Persian-Khaleeji has been a rich and endearing experience.
“If we do not practice our own folk dances, they will fade away into oblivion.”
In a way, djinn and their generational stories have become an undeniable aspect of our Arabic culture, especially since they symbolize a lot of the Arab folklore we grew up with and have come to know today.
“she laid out the books end to end/
and showed us all the stories enchanted”
This poem gives the familiar story of Little Red Riding Hood a colloquial, contemporary twist. There is a nursery rhyme that is common in the Gulf region about a crying girl named Salwa that was hit by her mother. In this poem, it is swapped with Laila, the Arab name for Little Red Riding Hood.