In the summer of 1975, a 19-year-old with no formal musical training sat down with a decade-old poem and, amid the beginning of a civil war, composed a melody he assumed few would hear. Fifty years later, <\/span>Ounadikom <\/span><\/i>(I Call on You, 1976) is still being sung in the streets.<\/span><\/p>\n Born on 9 July, 1955, in Beirut,<\/span> Kaabour <\/span>studied<\/span><\/a> theatre at the Lebanese University before beginning to perform in small cultural gatherings. He came of age <\/span>during<\/span><\/a> the Lebanese Civil War, a period that would shape both his artistic voice and his political outlook.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n A Song Born in Crisis<\/b><\/p>\n In 1975, with the outbreak of the Lebanese Civil War, Kaabour turned to the 1966 poem by the Palestinian poet Tawfiq Ziad, <\/span>Ounadikom<\/span><\/i>, setting it to music and performing it as both his first composition and his first vocal test. While he had <\/span>no formal musical training<\/span><\/a>, the song was born out of a desire to offer moral support to those fighting across various fronts. Shared between his voice and a chorus, his youthful delivery gave the song a raw authenticity.<\/span><\/p>\n The song spread in ways he could not have anticipated, becoming a <\/span>defining expression<\/span><\/a> of Palestinian tragedy, wound, and enduring resilience. During the Israeli invasion of Lebanon in 1982, it became one of the most widely sung anthems of solidarity with the Palestinian people.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThe song became more famous than I did,\u201d he once <\/span>said<\/span><\/a> on a podcast. \u201c<\/span>Ounadikom<\/span><\/i> did not succeed only because it dealt with a national cause or because it was written by Tawfiq Ziad. It succeeded because it had aesthetic value.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n The song continues to be sung at protests and solidarity demonstrations across the Arab world and beyond, resurfacing with particular force whenever the Palestinian cause reclaims the world\u2019s attention.<\/span><\/p>\n A Collective Voice<\/b><\/p>\n For many across the Arab world, and especially in Palestine, Kaabour was <\/span>revered<\/span><\/a> for his melodies, a voice with warmth and a slight roughness, and the interplay of solo and chorus. His music had a communal quality, as if he were singing not for an audience but alongside one.<\/span><\/p>\n Throughout his career, Kaabour maintained a studied distance from the commercial music industry. He insisted on treating art as a form of testimony rather than a product. His position aligned him with a tradition of committed Arabic song embodied by artists like Marcel Khalif\u00e9, with whom he collaborated.<\/span><\/p>\n He was also deeply active in children\u2019s theatre, working with groups including <\/span>Farek al-Sanabel<\/span><\/i>, the Sanabel team, a children\u2019s artistic troupe that <\/span>aids<\/span><\/a> Palestinian families, and the Lebanese Puppet Theatre, where he <\/span>wrote and composed<\/span><\/a> for more than 20 productions.<\/span><\/p>\n From the Stage to the Screen<\/b><\/p>\n Kaabour\u2019s artistic range extended well beyond music.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n He began his acting career in Lebanese theatre <\/span>during<\/span><\/a> the 1980s, and later moved into film. He <\/span>appeared<\/span><\/a> in a biographical film about the Palestinian cartoonist Naji El-Ali, titled <\/span>Naji El-Ali<\/span><\/i> (1991), alongside the late Egyptian actor Nour El-Sherif.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n His most prominent international role came years later. Kaabour <\/span>made<\/span><\/a> his international debut as Wadie Haddad in the TV miniseries \u2018Carlos\u2019, which premiered at the 2010 Cannes Film Festival.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Kaabour is survived by his wife, the artist Iman Bikdash, and their son Marwan.<\/span> He <\/span>died<\/span><\/a> at Al-Makassed Hospital in Beirut on 26 March 2026, following a long illness,<\/span> at the age of 70.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n To this day, his songs <\/span>continue to circulate<\/span><\/a>, to be sung, to be rediscovered by younger generations who may not know his face but recognize his voice.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n
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