A Multicultural Comic Wows Arab Crowds With an Insider's Touch
One of the hottest acts in the Middle East these days is a South Korean stand-up comic who performs his routines in fluent, colloquial Arabic.
Wonho Chung’s father, a physiotherapist, moved to the Middle East in the 1970s with his wife, who is Vietnamese. Born in Jidda, Mr. Chung studied in Amman, where his family enrolled him and his two sisters in the country’s public schools. “We studied everything in Arabic — mathematics, biology, geography,” he said.
In an interview here he told how he became a comedian by happy accident.
“It was never intended or planned,” he said. “Music was my real dream.”
Then Mr. Chung went out and entertained a group of travel agents with a mix of Arabic and English schtick.
He started off in Arabic, recalling the day he acquired Jordanian citizenship and went to collect his new passport: “They got everything right. Name, Wonho; tribe, Al Chung.” Then he switched to English: “City, Amman, and whoa! Female.”
There was laughter all around.
Since breaking out on stage in 2007 with a group of young comedians known as the Axis of Evil Comedy Tour, Mr. Chung has become a favorite of young Middle Eastern audiences.
The region had some experience with imported stand-up comedy — expatriates would regularly go to bars to take in acts that were mainly from Britain. But stand-up comedy with a local twist was practically unheard of until the Axis of Evil emerged in 2007, with routines poking fun at its comics’ own backgrounds and cultures.
The group — originally two Arab-Americans, Ahmed Ahmed and Aron Kader; and an Iranian-American, Maz Jobrani — were looking for a North Korean to fill out their act, when one of its producers happened on Mr. Chung in a shoe shop.
“I was literally head-hunted in a Puma store in Dubai, where I was joking around with the salespeople in Arabic, ” he said. All I wanted was a good discount.” Instead he got a job.
As the Axis of Evil toured the Middle East with its jokes about Arabs and Iranians and Western stereotyping, it was Mr. Chung, then a guest act, who drew significant attention.
“We were interacting a lot with the media, and every time there was an interview request from the Arabic TV channels or magazines, I’d be pushed out, as I was the only one who spoke fluent Arabic,” Mr. Chung said.
A Korean with spiky hair who could crack jokes in street Arabic was a first.
“Wonho was not a freak show and that’s what hooked people,” said Mina Liccione, a founder of Dubomedy, a comedy and urban arts school in Dubai. “He wasn’t someone who spoke a little bit of Arabic. He was someone who clearly wasn’t Arab, but spoke Arabic, complete with all the nuances and was aware of the Arab way of life.”
His exposure to Arabic and Arab culture in Jordan proved invaluable to Mr. Chung in his varied résumé. He has also worked as a translator, public relations professional, Middle East brand ambassador for Samsung, and is now looking to experiment with pop music.
“I think stand-up comedy in general has a short shelf life, and more so in this region, where there are limitations on what can be said,” he said. In his shows, Mr. Chung tries to avoid politics, religion, sex and alcohol. What’s left? some may wonder.
“Arabs have a great sense of humor,” he said, “but it’s different to what Westerners are accustomed to.”
From the masrahiyat, or stage comic dramas, to the slapstick adventures in Egyptian cinema, there are several genres of comedy in Arab countries.
Even within the region, certain veins of humor can be dangerous. In 2010, Mr. Chung said, he became the first stand-up comic to perform in public in Syria. Before his show, he was promptly told to avoid any jokes containing animal references, especially about lions because that is the meaning of President Bashar al-Assad’s name in Arabic.
Stand-up comedy as an art has grown in the region with the help of Mr. Chung’s celebrity. Imported acts continue to thrive, but local and regional comedy has entered the cafe and shisha circuit, reaching local populations that would normally steer clear of bars.
“It’s hard to estimate the number of performers in the region or even in Dubai, but there are several stand-up comics compared with 2007 and a lot of them performing in Arabic,” said Ms. Liccione, whose Dubomedy school has had 500 graduates from its stand-up comedy program over four years. The average age of those graduating is 30.
Mr. Chung’s most devout fans are 14 to 24 years old. This group, he guesses, is also the largest consumer of K-pop, or Korean pop music, in the Middle East. He said he believes he can further enrich his connection to this audience by expanding his artistic portfolio to include making music.
“The educated and privileged Arab youth are heavily influenced by Western shows and music,” he said. “They don’t really have regional or local icons. Arab music is either Lebanese pop that is dominated by women in opera-like settings or tarrab, which is an old-school Gulf genre. There’s no equivalent to Justin Bieber.”
He concedes that it is odd, as a Korean, to be aspiring to Arab pop icon status. “It’s like I am Arab,” he said, “but I’m not Arab.”
Still, he has emerged as an acute cultural observer of the changes sweeping the region. Mr. Chung is not just treated like a welcome guest but is also fully integrated into local society — a challenge for non-Arabic speaking expatriates.
Unlike those with the default status of “welcomed guest” among expatriates in the region, Mr. Chung enjoys “honorary family benefits,” a rare privilege accorded to foreigners.
He concedes, though, that there are still areas that may be off limits. “No Arab father or brother will willingly wish for his daughter or sister to marry me,” he said. “That’s how I’m not Arab.”
Vinita Bharadwaj
The New York Times