Music is not just an artistic expression; it is a living record of history, identity and cultural exchange. In her recent paper, Cosmopolitan Authenticity: Afro-Omani Heritage and the Making of Tradition in Oman, published in the International Journal of Heritage Studies, Dr. Ayat bint Nasser Al-Mata'ni, Head of the Department of Music and Musicology at the College of Arts and Social Sciences, challenges conventional notions of authenticity by arguing that Oman's rich musical heritage has been shaped not by cultural isolation but by centuries of interaction with the other regions. Drawing on extensive ethnographic fieldwork and archival research, the study explores how Afro-Omani musical traditions, particularly lēwa, have become an integral part of Oman's national heritage. In this dialogue, Dr. Al-Mata'ni discusses the concept of "cosmopolitan authenticity", the historical roots of Afro-Omani heritage, and the importance of preserving living traditions for future generations.
What does cosmopolitan authenticity mean, and how does it challenge the common belief that cultural authenticity depends on preserving traditions in their pure form?
When I use the term cosmopolitan authenticity, I am trying to rethink what we mean by authentic tradition. Very often, authenticity is imagined as something pure, fixed, and untouched by outside influence. But when we look closely at living musical traditions, especially in Oman, this idea becomes too narrow.
In my study, I argue that some traditions are authentic precisely because they have been shaped through long histories of movement, exchange, and adaptation. In the case of Afro-Omani heritage, authenticity does not come from isolation. It comes from the fact that these musical practices have been absorbed into everyday Omani life, transmitted across generations, and recognised by communities as part of their own inheritance.
So, cosmopolitan authenticity means that a tradition can be deeply local and still carry traces of wider worlds. It challenges the assumption that exchange weakens heritage. In Oman, exchange has often been one of the ways through which heritage was created.
The paper argues that Afro-Omani musical traditions, particularly lēwa, are not foreign influences but an integral part of Oman’s cultural heritage. What historical evidence led you to this conclusion, and why is this understanding important in the present?
The historical evidence is very clear when we situate Oman within the wider Indian Ocean world. Oman was never culturally isolated. Its coastal cities were connected for centuries to East Africa, the Swahili coast, Makran, Baluchistan, the Gulf, and western India through trade, migration, settlement, seafaring, and political relationships.
Lēwa reflects this history very powerfully. It carries East African and Baloch elements in its rhythms, instruments, movement, and sometimes in its linguistic traces, including Swahili. Yet in the communities where it is performed, it is not experienced as something foreign. It is part of weddings, rituals, neighbourhood celebrations, festivals, and family memory.
This understanding matters today because it allows us to speak about Omani identity in a more historically honest way. Recognising Afro-Omani traditions as Omani does not weaken national identity; it deepens it. It shows that Oman’s heritage has always been plural, maritime, and connected. That is not a contradiction. It is one of the strengths of Omani culture.
Oman has long served as a crossroads linking the Arabian Peninsula, East Africa and the Indian subcontinent. How have these centuries of cultural exchange shaped Omani musical traditions and cultural identity?
Omani musical traditions carry the memory of Oman’s geography. The sea was not only a route for goods; it was also a route for sounds, languages, rituals, instruments, and people. Through the Indian Ocean, Oman interacted with East Africa, South Asia, Baluchistan, Persia, and the wider Arab world. These interactions became part of the cultural fabric of the country.
This is why Omani music is so diverse. Some traditions are linked to the desert, others to the mountains, others to the sea, and others to Afro-Omani or Baloch communities. In lēwa, for example, we hear layered rhythmic patterns, call-and-response singing, dance structures, and performance practices that reveal these historical connections.
For me, this shows that Omani identity is not a closed identity. It is a rooted identity that has been enriched by movement. Oman’s cultural strength lies in its ability to absorb, adapt, and make these connections meaningful within local life.
Were there any interviews or experiences while doing the fieldwork that particularly changed or deepened your own understanding of Afro-Omani heritage?
Yes, very much. One of the most important lessons from the fieldwork was that heritage cannot be fully understood from documents alone. It has to be experienced in performance, in memory, in the body, and in the way communities speak about their own practices.
During my interviews with musicians, elders, and cultural practitioners, I was struck by how naturally they described lēwa as part of their lives. One musician explained that they grew up with lēwa in their homes and celebrations; it was not outside their identity but part of their inheritance. That statement stayed with me because it expressed the core of the article: what may appear “hybrid” to an outsider is often lived as completely natural and local by the community itself.
Participant observation also changed my understanding. Watching lēwa in performance, I realised that its meaning is not only in the sound. It is in the circle, the movement, the response of the audience, the gestures of the performers, and the shared knowledge of when and how the music should happen. That is where heritage lives.
How can local communities and heritage institutions work together to ensure traditions remain living practices rather than simply exhibition objects?
This is one of the most urgent questions in heritage work. Institutions are very important because they document, archive, fund, classify, and make traditions visible at the national and international levels. But institutions alone cannot keep heritage alive.
A tradition remains alive when the community continues to practise it, teach it, adapt it, and give it meaning. So, the relationship between communities and institutions must be collaborative, not one-directional. Heritage institutions should work with practitioners as knowledge-holders, not only as performers. They should document not only polished stage versions, but also weddings, rituals, local gatherings, oral histories, and regional variations.
At the same time, communities can benefit from institutional support in training, archiving, education, and transmission to younger generations. The goal should not be to freeze tradition, but to safeguard the conditions that allow it to continue living.
What do you expect policymakers, researchers and young Omanis will take away from your study, and what does it tell us about the value of embracing the diversity that has shaped Oman’s heritage over centuries?
I hope policymakers will see that safeguarding heritage is not only about preservation; it is also about representation. When we document Omani heritage, we should preserve its diversity, its regional differences, and its layered histories. We should not simplify traditions so much that their African, Baloch, maritime, or local meanings disappear.
For researchers, I hope the study encourages more work on Oman as part of the Indian Ocean world. Oman offers a very rich case for understanding how culture, movement, memory, and identity are connected.
For young Omanis, my message is simple: diversity is not something outside Omani heritage. It is one of the foundations of it. To embrace Afro-Omani heritage, Baloch heritage, coastal heritage, and other cultural expressions is not to divide Omani identity. It is to understand it more fully.
Ultimately, my study shows that tradition does not have to be pure in order to be authentic. In Oman, tradition has often been made through openness, encounter, and exchange. That is why I believe we can say: yes, tradition can be cosmopolitan.