Meet Chaama, the Person Behind the Anonymous Moroccan Voice

Moroccan celebrations and religious gatherings are only complete with musicians and a singer. Songs are carried by drums, lutes, and other traditional instruments, inviting guests to dance to old poetry or blessings for a new couple, chant amdah (praise poetry in honor of Prophet Muhammad), and remember stories passed down from one generation to the next. 

Moroccan singer Chaama often finds herself humming these traditional songs. Then she thinks, “Oh, this is good. We should remake this one,” and goes on to create an electronic version that reminds millions of people of a heritage they might otherwise forget.

“I think this new generation needs to hear these old songs, and there is no way for us to make them listen to them if we don't remake it to the way they want to listen to music now,” Chaama tells OkayAfrica. 

Chaama believes that people are not inclined to discover much new music and even less willing to listen to old recordings that are not perfectly mixed and mastered. “People have a habit to listen to a kind of beat, a kind of music, a kind of piano - they wouldn’t feel the [original] songs,” she explains. “But when we remake them, we keep the same composition and lyrics, and that brings them back.”

Old Arabic songs are characterized by microtonal Maqam scales, which Chaama interprets in her own way. She has worked with producers from across North Africa and beyond. They add their electronic vision to her recordings, creating music that reaches younger audiences. 

“After I made ‘Hiya Hiya’ or ‘Bent Sultan,’ everyone went back to the original,” says Chaama. “It hit us badly in comparison, because some people said we broke the songs, but the whole point is that our heritage doesn’t go away. I don’t want our grandparents’ music, poems, and feelings to fade because music is changing.” 

A faceless sound

Despite some critical voices, Chaama has amassed millions of listeners since she first released music five years ago. Her unique sound has travelled across the region and garnered a loyal audience that loves her for nothing but her voice — Chaama is completely anonymous to her fans and even most of her collaborators. She speaks to OkayAfrica via Zoom and even though she keeps her camera switched off, the low, soothing voice is unmistakably hers. 

Chaama was not encouraged to pursue music as a child, but when she lost her grandmother ten years ago, singing was the only therapy she could access. “It broke something inside of me that only singing and making music was able to heal,” she remembers. “While singing, I go to places that I wish I could take everyone to. Nobody exists when I sing, there’s just me, a small human being sitting on a small planet.” 

“Aty” off her first EP, Alm, is dedicated to her grandmother. 

From the beginning, Chaama uploaded covers to her Instagram without ever showing her face. Perhaps it’s not too surprising that someone who loves old poems and the music of their grandparents’ generation is an old soul who doesn’t enjoy social media, but Chaama has deeper reasons for her anonymity.

“I don’t want to be on the internet, not just as an artist, but as a nobody,” she says. Keeping this level of privacy means that she doesn’t get to interact with fans beyond reading the texts they send her. She also can't live off her art because she doesn’t perform live. However, all these sacrifices are worth protecting her mental health.

“My listeners are not the kind of people that want to get to know me,” says Chaama. “They respect what I’m doing, and they enjoy listening to my music without knowing who I am and how I look. It’s just music shared between us, and it’s really wonderful.” 

Does being a Moroccan woman who was raised in a conservative environment play into her decision to stay anonymous? “Even if I was born in Europe or America, I would definitely still have the same vision,” says Chaama. “It’s very hard to be a woman and be in the music industry and be on social media. Women have to fight the battle of creating art and, at the same time, defending our lives to exist as artists. We can’t protect ourselves from the industry unless we don’t go inside it.”

Women face incessant criticism, and shielding herself from the online portion of it helps Chaama escape society’s template of what a woman should look and sound like. “Not showing myself is also saying to women, ‘You can exist without showing any parts of you, and you will be heard,’” she says. 

At the end of Ramadan, Chaama and her longtime Algerian collaborator Eljoee will release part two of their song “Burakia,” an electronic remake of a religious Moroccan song. Halfway through the track, they added Sufi rhythms and, in Chaama’s words, “feelings,” creating a fusion that earned them their first nomination for an All Africa Music Awards in the category Best Female Artist in Africa Inspirational Music in 2022. 

Chaama grew up in a spiritual family and remembers all weddings starting with a religious song. “Music helps you reach some kind of peace that nothing else can get you; it’s a different kind of meditation. I’m always trying to go back to that place with every song,” she says. “I receive many messages and artistic creations by people who feel inspired by my music; it’s so dear to my heart. It gives me hope in humanity.”