Saif “AK47” Abu-Kandil plucks on his ukulele. The small Edinburgh Fringe audience smiles and, nervously, laughs. It’s laughter not of joy, but of awkwardness and relief.
“I talk about Iraq. I deal with the atrocities. It’s a satirical song on the ukulele. It’s the shock factor. This is the one or two minutes of seriousness in my 20-minute set,” says Abu-Kandil.
The half Egyptian, half Iraqi comedian is a member of the Al Hezb El Comedy troupe that is making its debut at the Fringe. The troupe was created after the 2011 Egyptian revolution when many Hezbs (Arabic for political party) were formed throughout the country. Realising the need for a comedy party, Al Hezb El Comedy hosted its very first open-mic on August 2011 in downtown Cairo, not far from Tahrir Square.
For Abu-Kandil and Hashem El Garhy, the troupe’s founder, upheaval in their homeland has been an opportunity, not an obstacle in their comic careers.
“I don’t try to make people laugh at other people’s misfortunes, but at the absurdity of it,” says Abu-Kandil.
El Garhy calls it “observational humour”. “Unless we laugh about ourselves, we can’t move forward,” he says.
You might think someone saying the Middle East is funny was pulling your leg. Recent conflicts in the region – from Gaza through to Syria – are more material for tragedy than comedy.
When the controversial American comedienne Joan Rivers recently quipped on camera about the bombing of Gaza – “They were told to get out. They didn’t get out. You don’t get out, you are an idiot. At least the ones that were killed were the ones with low IQs” – she was roundly condemned.
Abu-Kandil, whose older brother is Palestinian, says: “It wouldn’t be comedy at all if I talked about Gaza. There’s nothing funny there. It might have been funny five years ago, but not now.”
Some comedians believe it's not what you joke about that matters, but how you tell them. Sadia Azmat, who's Edinburgh Fringe show is provocatively called I Am Not Malala, says any subject can raise a laugh if handled correctly.
“Comedians are often mistaken for causing offence. However, joking about conflict may also raise awareness of a topic and provide an opinion that differs from that of the media,” she says. “I think, as with anything, context is highly important. So an audience wouldn’t appreciate a one liner, whereas if a comedian had a set or show where the material sat well, it would be more appropriate.”
Inder Manocha, whose show is called White Man's Burden, agrees that the Middle East shouldn't be entirely off limits for laughs.
“Obviously jokes about people’s suffering, per se, is inappropriate,” he says. “But it’s of course possible to make a point about conflict, hypocrisy, double standards, political bias, without suffering being the butt of the joke. Sometimes the tragic nature of a situation gives an extra edge and depth to a joke. There’s a healthy tradition of gallows humour.”
Manocha’s beef is not that it’s wrong to giggle about Gaza (although it might be), but that jokes about the Middle East and Islam are often boring.
“Most of the material seems to be the same stock response,” he says. “No one is saying anything different or challenging. A lot of comedians, when they talk about the Middle East, tend to attack western governments, talk about oil and double standards. It’s the liberal line. It’s the same thing they were talking about five years ago. There’s nothing fresh.”
But do Manocha and others have a licence to tread on sensitive territory because of their Middle East connections? Manocha claims it’s because he’s British Asian (his mother’s family are Iranian) he can crack a different joke.
"I talk about political correctness. I talk about who decides what is offensive," he says. "I use experience from my own life. I give an example of all of my English friends who get offended by someone doing a dodgy Asian accent. Like Peter Sellers' song Goodness Gracious Me from the 1960s film The Millionairess. People say – that's just awful, a caricature. But my parents loved it, bought the record and my father asked for Peter Sellers' autograph. They weren't offended at all."
The Al Hezb El members are enjoying Edinburgh. “We’re getting used to the non-Arabic audience. The beauty of the Fringe is that it lets us try things out. We’re trying to create a bridge,” says El Garhy.
If conflict can’t make us chortle, it can make us think. And that means that comedians from the Middle East may, after all, have the last laugh.
• Inder Manocha’s White Man’s Burden and Sadia Amzat’s I Am Not Malala are at Laughing Horse; www.laughinghorsecomedy.co.uk. Al Hezb El’s Falafel, Houmous and Baba Ganoush is at Stand in the Square; www.thestand.co.uk. For more information on the Edinburgh Fringe festival, go to www.edfringe.com
artslife@thenational.ae