"I realized that happiness to me feels like an overcoming, that at once you couldn't do a thing and then you do it. The deeper the arc of that overcoming, then the larger the joy."
Written by Dante Richardson
Photos by Dante Richardson
On Wednesday, September 25, 2024, I attended the Kitaba Listening's in London, an exclusive album listening & discussion between Mustafa the Poet and Dua Lipa. After a hurried departure from a friend's house, I found myself in an Uber racing to the event. Fortunately, my friend Hyla had saved me a spot as the sixth person in line. We waited for about two hours outside, as the event ran later than expected. However, once we finally made it in, the sight of the beautifully designed set was worth the wait.
The sense of community amongst the attendees added to the excitement of the evening. The energy in the room shifted when Dua Lipa and Mustafa took the stage. Their conversation was captivating, blending seamlessly with Mustafa’s hauntingly beautiful music. Serendipity struck when I ran into a small stall selling a signed copy of his vinyl — a chance encounter just after I bought a Jamaican patty. Mustafa’s reflections left a lasting impression, resonating with intense honesty and depth.
He spoke of his city as a “graveyard,” and admitted to “overthinking into oblivion.” His voice had a vulnerability as he described his brother, whose “wings were wrapped around him throughout his life.” After his brother’s murder, he confessed to feeling exposed and raw. His introspective journey took him to Egypt, where he sought inspiration in jazz cafés, even chasing down instrumentalists after shows to collaborate on songs like Iman and Name of God. In his music and dialogue, Mustafa drew intriguing parallels — the blending of American and African folk instruments symbolizing the way he communicates with his Sudanese parents. His insights were profound yet simple, saying things like, “Happiness is overcoming,” or “The heart can only drop so many times before it stays on the ground.” He shared the meaning of words like “Dua,” which signifies prayer, and “Dunya,” loosely translated from Arabic as “the world in all its flaws.”
"when I think about my closest friends, I don't know how I would understand this world without them. I don't know how I would navigate this world without them."
Born (28 July 1996) Mustafa Ahmed, Mustafa, formerly known as Mustafa the Poet, is a Sudanese-Canadian poet, singer, songwriter, and filmmaker from Toronto. He grew up in Regents Park, a project with a long history as one of downtown Toronto's lowest-income neighborhoods. Regents Park has a higher representation of visible minorities, refugees, immigrants, and Indigenous people in the neighborhood compared to neighboring areas.
As a child, this upbringing exposed Mustafa to many of the world's harsh truths. Navigating violence, loss, poverty, and religion at the age of seven or eight years old, Mustafa’s older sister, Namarig Ahmed, decided to teach her little brother about the healing effects of poetry. Together, they talked, exploring their feelings and community to make sense of it all. Then, the siblings would write.
At the age of 12, Mustafa's poetic talent captured the attention of the Toronto Star, earning him his first feature. Critics praised his work, describing his poems as "heart-wrenching reflections of a community often overlooked" and “He writes poems that make white adults cry.” Mustafa's poetry served as a powerful mirror, reflecting the experiences and struggles of those marginalized in society.
His talent extended beyond the written word. Mustafa's lyrical prowess caught the eye of music's biggest stars, including The Weeknd, Camilla Cabello, Justin Bieber, and The Jonas Brothers. He contributed his pen to their projects, further amplifying his career and reaching a wider audience.
Beyond his musical collaborations, Mustafa used his artistry to shed light on pressing social issues. He directed "Remember Me, Toronto," a documentary that explored the devastating impact of gun violence in the city. Through interviews with prominent rap artists like Drake, Mustafa gave a voice to those affected by this crisis.
Always driven by a deep sense of compassion and social justice, Mustafa organized two benefit concerts in 2024 to provide humanitarian aid to Gaza and Sudan. These events showcased his commitment to using his platform to amplify the voices of the oppressed and support those affected by war and genocide.
Mustafa's journey from a young poet to a celebrated artist and activist is a testament to his unwavering dedication to social change. Through his powerful words, music, and activism, he continues to inspire and empower others, advocating for a more than what society tells us we're worth.
"This (The listening party) was also an excuse to force people to listen to the album in order. I'm looking at @Chunkz because I know he's not going to listen in order"
Mustafa's debut album, "Dunya," is a deeply personal exploration of loss, love, and the complexities of life. Influenced by the tragic death of his older brother, who was shot and killed in Toronto, the album serves as a reflection on the violence that plagues many communities. Mustafa delves into these themes in search of meaning in a world often marked by hardship. His lyrics offer a raw and honest portrayal of the challenges faced by individuals living in marginalized communities.
Through his music, Mustafa pays tribute to his brother and the countless others who have fallen victim to violence. He expresses his grief and anger while also offering a message of hope and resilience. The album serves as a reminder of the devastating impact of violence and the need for change.
Opening with the track "Name of God" Mustafa questions his faith with the lyrics "Whose Lord are you naming when you start to break things... Did you do it in the name of God" It seems here Mustafa is questioning his position in the world around him everything around him seemed warm, but inside he was falling apart. The second track on the album entitled What Happened, Mohamed? Is a song where Mustafa reflects on his relationships with those closest to him.
In the first part, Mustafa reminisces about the carefree moments they once shared, filled with laughter and genuine connection. Despite facing judgment from the outside world, they embraced their true selves and found solace in each other's company. The next song Imaan Mustafa connects these lyrics to forbidden love and religious undertones, drawing parallels between the two. He sings, "All the ways need me are from God. All the ways you reach him are flawed," suggesting a conflict between personal desires and religious beliefs. Mustafa told Complex ‘Imaan’ is a love song between two people in search of God and purpose. It’s about longing for all that we don’t have evidence of, two Muslims journeying through their love of borderless Western ideology and how it contradicts the modesty and devotion in which they were raised. ‘Imaan’ sonically represents this tussle too; the Sudanese strings and Egyptian oud woven into the bed of American folk chords and drums. This tapestry, this collision is the song, is the romance, is the person Mustafa is. How it’s never enough, or too much. During the listening party, Mustafa also relates this relationship between instruments to his relationship with his parents. Being of dual heritage Mustafa grew up with a different perspective and language than his Sudanese parents. While they can communicate they struggle to connect at times.
Mustafa shared how his perspective on his parents shifted after his brother's passing. He realized that as the younger sibling, his brother Muhammad grew up with less experienced and less patient parents. Mustafa explained that older siblings often sacrifice their own experiences to guide their younger siblings through life. After his brother's murder, Mustafa felt a vulnerability that he had never felt before, he now realizes it was the absence of his brother's love forever surrounding his life. In the song "What good is a heart," Mustafa sings, "All the fears that you held me with, The years that you held me with, And I’m still wearing the clothes that you held me in, spell the end." These lyrics reflect Mustafa's guilt and regret over his last conversation with his brother. He expressed his fears about Mohammad living in Toronto and urged him to leave. Sadly, his brother replied, "God willing I will leave." Just a week later, Mohammad's life was tragically taken, fulfilling Mustafa's worst nightmare.
"Gaza Is Calling" explores another tragic recount of death and estrangement. The lyrics explain Mustafa's lost connection with a childhood friend from Palestine. The ongoing occupation of Gaza has disrupted their intimacy, leaving an insurmountable barrier between them. "There's a place in your heart that I can't get into." The atmospheric melody, accompanied by the delicate sound of an oud, serves as a reminder of their shared Middle Eastern heritage. Finally, the last song I'll review is "Leaving Toronto" In its lyrics, Mustafa expresses his exhaustion with the ongoing struggle and the toll it has taken on him. He sings, "If we're burning this city, tell me where to start," conveying a sense of hopelessness and frustration. However, there is a clear internal conflict. Leaving Toronto would mean severing a significant part of his identity. When speaking about his relationship with his city Mustafa stated "I choose to be gentle but it is not a shield, this song is my farewell but it is still a life sentence."
Mustafa's listening party was a truly moving experience, and his album is a gift to the living that will be cherished for years to come. His vulnerability and willingness to explore his past and present feelings with such care make listening a truly intimate experience. Often, I find myself consumed by grief in the present moment, knowing that it too will fade into the past. "Dunya" provided me with a new perspective, encouraging me to focus on the feelings of the present rather than dwelling on its fleeting nature. I'm resonating with the idea that life is a journey of constant renewal and personal growth, even in the face of loss and change. I began writing this article in my notes app on my brother's birthday and want to dedicate the closing statements to him.
Today, I'm grateful and blessed to have a love like this. Thank you for your light, your kindness, your strength, your laugh, and your smile. My brother, my friend, my strength - may this year continue to fill you with love. You can do anything. Your life is yours; your future is yours. I will always take care of you in this life. We are in this together We went through war together as children. He saw me break, he saw me cry, he saw me crumble, but he was there with a smile and a warm heart, even when mine was cold. He clung to my side when I was distant. Now, he pushes me away to give himself space to grow. He grows taller than me, smarter than me, kinder than me, braver than me. May he be protected, may he be loved, may he be carried to the greatest heights. For my brother's birthday, if you pray, I ask that you pray for him. And if you don't, I ask that you send him well wishes. When he is down, I must be up. My brother is a part of me.
"Then there's an emptyness, as you know it. The emptyness that comes with the gifting of a record, the parting."
Words from Mustafa at the London Kitaba Listening's
"I was asking my friend what he thought his definition of happiness was, and I started thinking about what I thought happiness was. I realized that happiness to me feels like an overcoming, that at once you couldn't do a thing and then you do it. The deeper the arc of that overcoming, then the larger the joy. That's why people that begin with everything have a difficult time even locating their joy or locating their happiness because they have nothing to strive for, nothing to overcome. I guess in that, I would say that community brings me joy. Community is my lifeline. But I mean actual community and not the community that people mention habitually without actually attaching themselves to any of the tenets of what makes a community. I think even when you think about liberal communities and liberation organizations, they speak about community so often, but you throw one trope of identity politics out and then everyone starts separating from each other. And I just would like to believe that people are weathering all of their differences and even their differences in belief systems, and being able to see each other and align with each other. But community is my lifetime."
"Friendship is like when I think about my closest friends, I don't know how I would understand this world without them. I don't know how I would navigate this world without them. I feel like I'm in service to my family and to my parents. I don't ask my parents for anything. It's just the design of our relationship. I am so honored to be of service to them. Even with the family related to them, there is a closeness that doesn't allow for me to explore a particular thing. But I am so energized by the family that I chose in this life. With everything that they give me, I'm able to return it to the people in my life. I'm able to return it to the individuals that I'm serving. That is the thing that drives me forward and that keeps me wondering and hoping. It's like being on the stage, sharing this music that I get to do with someone that's close with me, it makes it really easy. I'm even grieving the release of the record. We're probably going to listen to just three more songs, and it feels, Oh, once that is over, that's something that I'm going to have to reckon with that feeling that the entire record was played."
Mustafa plays the final song on the album entitled "Nouri" meaning Light his mothers nickname
