‫كناوة‬

‫تعريف‬

‫موسيقى ْ ّغناوة أو كناوة‪ ‬هي مزيج‪ ‬موسيقى‪ ‬ورقصات‪ ‬إفريقية‪ ‬وعربية‪ ‬وبربرية‪ ،‬وهي‬

‫مغربية األصل وكانت بداياتها بمدينة الصويرة كما أنها منتشرة في بعض مناطق‪ ‬شمال‬
‫أفريقيا‪. ‬ولديها روادها المعروفون ب(المعلم)تشير عبارة الڨناوة إلى مجموعة من األحداث‬
‫الموسيقية والعروض والممارسات األخوية والطقوس العالجية التي تمزج بين الدنيوي‬
‫والمق ّدس‪ .‬والڨناوة هي في المقام األوّ ل موسيقى صوفية تمتزج عادة بكلمات ذات محتوى‬
‫ديني تستحضر األجداد واألرواح‪.‬‬
‫التاريخ‬
‫يمتاز فن تاكناويت بتاريخه العريق‪ ،‬فبعد أن كانت موسيقى كناوة توصف بموسيقى الشارع‬
‫قبل ربع قرن من اآلن‪ ،‬أصبحت هذه الموسيقى اآلن تتمتع بإعتراف دولي‪ ،‬وبصفتها‬
‫موسيقى النشوة والدهشة المتواصلة‪ ،‬إستطاعت موسيقى كناوة أن تعبر الحدود وتصنع‬
‫لنفسها نمطا موسيقيا ًَ قائما ً بذاته‪ ،‬والدليل على ذلك هو حضور الكثير لإلستمتاع بحفالت‬
‫كناوة كل سنة‪ .‬ويقول الشيوخ القدامى للموسيقى الكناوية‪ ،‬إن موسيقاهم مرتبطة ارتباطا‬
‫وثيقا ً بالطقوس العالجية التي مارسها أجدادهم األفارقة في جنوب الصحراء الكبرى‪ .‬ويمكن‬
‫للمتمعن في إيقاعات الموسيقى الكناوية أن يكتشف تشابهها مع موسيقى الفودو في هايتي‪،‬‬
‫أو السانتيريا الكوبية أو الكاندومبلي البرازيلية‪ ،‬وهي جميعها من أصول واحدة حملها معهم‬
‫األفارقة من جنوب الصحراء الكبرى خالل مراحل االستعباد وتجارة الرقيق‪.‬‬
‫االصل‬

‫نشأت موسيقى وطقوس كناوة من عبادة اإلدموريك (الحيازة المقبولة والمزروعة)‬

‫التي أعيد تأهيلها من قبل أحفاد عبيد جنوب الصحراء* في المغرب الكب*ير‪ .‬يجب أن‬
‫تكون هذه الممارسات قد تحولت وتبنت‪ ‬اإلسالم‪ ‬كدين للبقاء على قيد الحياة‪.‬‬
‫تم تعريف الكناوة في نهاية القرن التاسع عشر على أنه جماعة أخوية ديني**ة ش**عبية‬
‫تك***ون ممارس***اتها العالجي***ة هي إرث‪ ‬الطوائ***ف الص***وفية‪ ‬جن***وب‪ ‬الص***حراء‬
‫الكبرى‪ ‬التي تنقلها أجيال من المسلمين من جنوب الصحراء الكبرى الذين اس**تقروا‬
‫في‪ ‬المغرب العربي‪.‬‬
 ‫كما توجد طقوس شبيهة بغناوة المغرب في تونس وشرق الجزائر‬
‫(وتسمى‪ ‬الستامبالي‪ ‬والبنجا) ‪ ،‬ومصر (وتسمى‪ ‬الزار[‪ ، )]3[]2‬وفي الجزائر باستثناء‬
‫شرق الجزائر (وتسمى‪ ‬ديوان‪ ‬أو‪ ‬بوري‪ ‬هوسا) متشابهة في بعض النواحي (يؤكد‬
‫على أصل مشترك) وتختلف في نقاط أخرى بسبب المسارات المحددة التي‬
‫ستواجهها هذه الجماعات في المجتمعات المضيفة على مر القرون‪ .‬في‪ ‬ليبيا‪ ،‬كان‬
‫هذا النوع الموسيقي موجو ًدا في فزان تحت اسم "ستامبالي"‪.‬‬
‫المالبس واآلالت األساسية‬
‫يعرف فنانوا موسيقى كناوة باسم المعلم الكناوي‪ .‬ويتميز المعلمين الكناوين الذين يغنون موسيقى كناوة‬
‫بلباسهم التقليدي‪ .‬لكل واحد من المعلمين طريقته الخاصة في العزف على آلة‪ ‬الكمبري‪ .‬كما تستعمل آالت‬
‫عديدة مثل‪ ‬القرقب‪.‬‬
‫كما يستعملون االت اخرى ك‬
‫طعريجة‬
‫طبيالت‬
‫الوتر‬
‫دربوكة و غيرهم‬
‫المهرجانات‬
‫موسيقى كناوة العديد من المهرجانات المحلية والدولية مثل‪ ‬مهرجان كناوة وموسيقى‬
‫العالم‪ ‬بمدينة الصويرة في المغرب‪ ‬ومهرجان موسيقى الديوان‪ ‬بعاصمة‪ ‬الجزائر‪.‬‬
‫يعتبر مهرجان كناوة وموسيقى العالم الذي يُنظم سنويا ً بمدينة الصويرة من أهم وأكبر‬
‫المهرجان الخاصة بموسيقى كناوة‪ ،‬ويعرف مشاركة مجموعة من المعلمين الكناوين‬
‫المغاربة والعديد من الفنانين العالمين خصوصا ً من مالي وغينيا وكوبا وإسبانيا‪.‬‬
‫االمتدادات‬

‫امتدت ثقافة كناوة من خالل الموسيقى لتشمل فنوناً مغاربية مثل موسيقى الديوان‬
‫في الجزائر‪ ،‬وستانبلي في ليبيا وتونس‪.‬‬

‫يقول بوكرامي أنه منذ عقود ُأ درج العديد من األساليب الموسيقية واإليقاعات الكناوية‪/‬‬
‫في المغرب والجزائر‪ /‬وتونس وليبيا وعلى الصعيد العالمي‪ .‬ويتمظهر هذا التأثير‪ /‬في أنواع‬
‫عدة من الموسيقى‪ ،‬مثل الراب المغربي‪ ،‬والموسيقى األمازيغية العربية‪.‬‬

‫كناوة والحضرة‬
 ‫تمارس طقوس الموسيقى الكناوية في إطار الحضرة التي ارتبطت بشكل كبير بالزوايا‪/،‬‬
‫إضافة إلى تنظيم بعض العائالت تلك الليالي في منازلهم‪ ،‬وال تقام إال ليالً‪ ،‬بهدف التفريج‬
‫عن النفوس وطرد األرواح التي تهيمن عليها‪ /.‬ويقول بوكرامي إنهم‪ /‬يمارسون بذلك‬
‫طقوساً أفريقية قديمة تجعل من الموسيقي أو العازف وسيطاً بين العالم الواقعي وعالم‪/‬‬
‫األرواح‪/.‬‬

‫‪Six years ago‬‬

KADE

I fucking hate people.

Especially parties.

Why does my sister have every single girl from school here? It's not her sixteenth till next year, so
why the huge celebration?

Mum told me I could invite my own friends, so it would be a joint party since we're twins. It seems to
be a thing we do over the years. But fuck that. I hate it. And if I hear the song Single Ladies once
more, I will lose my shit. Most of them are fourteen and have a crush on anime characters, for God's
sake.

All of them are dramatic and keep screaming. My eardrums are sore from the few minutes of being
around them before I managed to get the hell away.

They can fuck off.

Locking my room door is mandatory, because sack having any of them try to get in and tell my mum
I'm smoking out on my balcony. Ewan caught me last week while having a draw in the pool house,
and said if I did it again, he'd tell her. No one wants that woman yelling at them, the scary bastard
that she is.

I like my privacy, my own space where I'm unbothered. I have my key jammed in the hole, the latch
on, and a chair against the door. They have no chance of ruining my peace.

Well... I guess if any of the girls are pretty, they're welcome to come in. Wait. Nah, I'd rather fill my
lungs with smoke than spend a second longer than necessary with those pain in the arse humans.

It makes me feel weird, to be honest. People might think it's great to be the centre of attention when
they walk into a room, but I hate it. I'd rather be invisible. I'd rather no one knew who I was, my
family history, or do everything they can to talk to me. They don't want to know who I am, not really.
They want to have the bragging rights that they've spoken Kade Mitchell, that I spared them a
second of my time.

It's the same at school. They're always watching me, smiling, and saying hello, only to be met with a
glare and silence while my two friends laugh it off. Lu is forever complaining about her little crowd
pining after me, but I have zero interest, none, nada.

We got into an argument not long ago because people were using her friendship to see me.

Fucking ridiculous.

But she invites them to her parties anyway, because fake popularity means more to her than respect.
No matter how many times I tell her to get them to  fuck off, she doesn't listen.

You'd think having one of the biggest manors in the West of Scotland, they'd struggle to find my
room on the top floor, furthest away from anyone else. But if one more of those cretins knocks at my
door and runs away, I'll put this cig out in their eye.
I ignored whoever was there ten minutes ago. And I'll ignore the next.

Because I'm preoccupied. She has no idea I'm watching her.

Away from the rest, away from the party, a girl with raven hair, not wearing a dress with a bow
bigger than her head, but a band t-shirt. Metallica, maybe, I'm too far away to get a good enough
view, but I know it's far too big for her. The jeans are rolled up at the knees, and she's sitting on the
edge with her feet in the water.

Why is she not with the rest?

And who the fuck is she? I've never seen the lass before.

I can't stop watching her, can't tear my gaze away while she stares at the starry sky. She must be
cold, surely. The Scottish weather in September is nothing short of fucking baltic.

Should I take her down one of my hoodies?

What? Shut the fuck up, Kade.

Stubbing out my smoke, I toss it into the ashtray hidden under my balcony ledge, keeping my eyes on
the mystery girl while I shove on my Converse. My mum will come for me at any moment for the
birthday cake, so I need to waft the smell from my room and cover it up with air freshener.

My phone dings in my pocket, and I quickly pull it out while I brush my teeth in my en-suite
bathroom. The group chat I have with my two best friends pops up. One is pissed he isn't here. And
the other, he asks if I want to go to a real party.

Before I can reply with a capitalised yes, I hear footfalls.

Here we go.

"Kade!" Mum bellows from the other side of my door, making me roll my eyes. I place my toothbrush
back in the holder and switch my phone off. "Stop locking this door!"

"Whatever," I mutter under my breath while I kick aside the chair and pull the latch.

Swinging it open, I'm met with her scowling at me, arms crossed, tapping her foot on the ground.
She's smaller than me, blonde hair that's nothing like my dark. But we have the same blue eyes, and
hers are burning into my soul while I look at her, giving my mother a bored expression.

"What did I tell you about locking this door? Were you smoking, again?"

"No," I lie, dodging her and making my way down the spiral staircase, the one Ewan had designed for
me. It only leads to my side of the manor, giving me more privacy, so it's rare for anyone to be near
my space. "Don't expect me to sing along."

"You'll do as I say," she orders, catching up behind me as I take two steps at a time until I reach the
bottom. I pull up my hood and tighten the strings, burying my hands into the front pocket. Mum
grabs my arm to stop me. "Please don't ruin this for your sister. You know how she gets."
"Because she's a spoiled brat?"

She glares at me, and I stride away without another word. Lu has always been the golden child, the
favourite, the one who doesn't give my mum and Ewan any problems. They both worship the ground
she walks on. I get it, kind of. I'm not like them. I'm not like my twin sister.

Luciella would never be caught smoking or drinking at the age of thirteen like I had two years ago,
and definitely wouldn't be brought home after being pulled by the police for driving underage. Yeah,
I'm fifteen, but most of my friends are eighteen, nineteen, and older. So it's safe to say my teenage
years are entirely different from my sister's.

I'm the bad kid. The one the family dreads when they get together. I used to give a fuck and attempt
to fit in, but now, I prefer it. They keep their distance, and so do I. Mum does try, probably too much.

She thinks I didn't overhear her crying to my dad over the phone, begging him to help her with my
apparent mood swings and ways to deal with the troubled twin. She broke her heart to him, and I
don't think I'll ever forget the sounds she made as she cried.

There's nothing wrong with who I am. Even Dad tells me that I'm special, and never to take offence
to how others view me.

So they can fuck off.

Ewan does what he can, but I try to keep him at arm's length, even when he takes me for boxing
lessons and attempts some sort of father-son bonding like he does with my big brother Jason. But
he's grown up now, has his own life, so it seems my stepdad has moved on to me.

"Hi," a squeaky voice comes from my left as I pour myself a cup of juice. I grimace, already knowing
it's Luciella's bat-shit crazy friend, Tylar. I bet she was one of the knocks at my door. She hasn't left
me alone since we were eight, and I find the nutty blonde insufferable