Iraqi man keeps tradition of gas bottle delivery singing alive

Gas cylinder delivery man Mountazar Abbas sings from his rickshaw to announce his arrival in the Karrada district of Baghdad. AFP

Mr Abbas unloads gas cylinders from his rickshaw. AFP

Residents of the Karrada district wake each morning to hear his dulcet tones. The tradition was once a nationwide phenomenon, but Mr Abbas is now a solo act. AFP

Mr Abbas, 22, says he is carrying on the trade of his father. AFP

He has been traversing the streets and alleyways of the Baghdad shopping district since 2007. AFP

Some residents say they prefer to buy gas from Mr Abbas, rather than dealing with delivery men who play music from loudspeakers. AFP

In the Karrada district of Iraq's capital, residents awake to a gas bottle delivery man's dulcet tones – once a countrywide tradition, but now a solo act.

Mountazar Abbas, 22, is the last gas delivery man in Baghdad to announce his arrival by singing.

"My heart rediscovers love, as if it learnt nothing from past suffering," croons Mr Abbas, in homage to famous Iraqi singer Yass Khodr.

When he sings from of his cylinder-laden rickshaw, he brings smiles to customers' faces.

"When people recognise my voice, they open the door of their home and shout out to me," Mr Abbas said. "Others call me on the phone – but they still ask me to sing."

Carrying on the trade of his father, Mr Abbas has traversed the streets and alleys of the shopping district in the heart of Baghdad since 2007.

Grocer Ahmad Ali, 30, says he supports the tradition of the singing gas delivery man.

"There were many in the past, but it's over," he said.

Other delivery men now play recordings of music to announce their arrival, Mr Ali said.

Many broadcast songs by famous artists through loudspeakers.

"Frankly, it's annoying," said Mr Ali.

"I buy my supplies from [Mr Abbas] … who has a nice voice."

The often melancholy choices of delivery men who opt for recordings sometimes lead to online ridicule.

"Why do they then want to subject us to sad tunes when they deliver our gas?" asked Mukhtar Taleb.

In the past, there were many singing delivery men, said Kamal, a 55-year-old resident of Al Jadida district of Baghdad.

"I used to tell them that they had a beautiful voice and I even encouraged several of them to take part in competitions on the radio," he said.

Under dictator Saddam Hussein, who was deposed in the US-led invasion in 2003, a panel on Iraqi TV and radio assessed talented singers.

The panel comprised musicians, art critics and poets, and its favourite singer would record a song.

It was a launch pad for many musical careers.

After the invasion, which was followed by bouts of sectarian violence, the panel disappeared.

From 2005 to 2007, extremists who controlled parts of Baghdad banned singing and carried out a purge – some musicians were killed, while others saw their instruments destroyed.

The tradition of the singing delivery man has also disappeared across much of the wider region.

In Jordan's capital Amman, authorities have since 2012 required gas sellers to broadcast Beethoven's For Elise only, so as to avoid a cacophony of competing sounds.

In Lebanon and Syria, sellers once delivered gas on donkey-drawn carts and announced their arrival by honking a horn.

But now customers go directly to suppliers.

"Everyone does as they see fit. I opted for the traditional way and most of my clients prefer to see me sing," Mr Abbas said.

But there is little chance that Mr Abbas will pass the trade on to his own children.

"It is a tough and badly paid trade," he said.

Mr Abbas also sings at home, with friends and at family reunions.

He even dreams of following in the footsteps of Hatem Al Iraqi, an Iraqi singer-songwriter who now lives in Dubai.

"Hatem is, like me, originally from Sadr City", a poor district of Baghdad, Mr Abbas said.

"And before he became successful, he was in the same trade as me. He had a very beautiful voice … I would like to follow his path."

Orchestra conductor Mohammed Mahmoud leads the Watar orchestral ensemble, playing for the first time at the restored Al Rabea Theatre in Iraq's northern city of Mosul on April 8, 2021. AFP

A packed audience watches the inaugural performance at the restored Al Rabea Theatre in Mosul, Iraq. Reuters

The Watar orchestra previously played for Pope Francis on March 7 in the ruins of Syriac Catholic Church of the Immaculate Conception during the papal visit. Reuters

Conductor Mohammed Mahmoud plays the violin while leading the Watar orchestral ensemble, which was formed only five months earlier. AFP

Conductor Mohammed Mahmoud leads the Watar orchestral ensemble at the Al Rabea Theatre in Mosul, which was destroyed during the war against ISIS. AFP

Conductor Mohammed Mahmoud leads the Watar orchestral ensemble at Mosul's Al Rabea Theatre. AFP

A violinist performs as part of the Watar orchestral ensemble. AFP

Images of famous Iraqi cultural and art personalities are shown on a screen during the concert by the Watar orchestra. EPA

Some parts of the theatre are charred and a hole in its roof bears witness to damage suffered during Mosul's occupation by ISIS and the battle to retake the city. AFP

The concert drew people from all walks of life. Reuters

Syriac Catholic Archbishop of Mosul Youhanna Boutros Moshe, fourth from left, with other Christian clergymen and a Catholic nun at the performance by the Watar orchestral ensemble. AFP

Iraqis attend a concert by the Watar orchestral ensemble at the Rabea Theatre in Mosul on April 8, 2021. EPA

The Watar orchestra performed to about 1,000 people in the first show at the theatre in 18 years. EPA

Iraqi artistic director Mohammed Saleh, left, and conductor Mohammed Mahmoud greet the public after the concert. EPA

Iraqis give a standing ovation to the Watar orchestral ensemble after the concert at Mosul's Al Rabea Theatre on April 8, 2021. EPA

Musicians of the Watar orchestra take a selfie at the concert. EPA

An concert attendee next to a sign that says, in English and Arabic, 'Welcome to Mosul', outside the Al Rabea Theatre. AFP