Some songs begin with a melody. Others begin with a story that refuses to leave.
For Los Angeles-based singer-songwriter Zarema, “Child’s Prayer” began with the story of a young refugee girl who had survived an airstrike, lost her mother and one of her legs, and was learning to live with a prosthetic. Her grandmother told her that her mother now lived in the brightest star in the night sky. The girl began looking upward each evening to speak to her.
Zarema heard the story while working on a documentary about children affected by war. She stepped away from the work and cried. The following morning, she called her parents in Crimea. Her father suggested she write a song.
The story also touched something closer to home. Zarema is Crimean Tatar and was born in exile in Soviet Uzbekistan before returning to Crimea with her family following the collapse of the Soviet Union. Her family history, and her understanding of displacement from an early age, have shaped the way she responds to stories of children caught in circumstances beyond their control.
Produced by Kitt Wakeley, “Child’s Prayer” eventually travelled far from the intimate moment in which it was written. The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra recorded for the song at Abbey Road Studios, bringing orchestral scale to a piece Zarema had deliberately written from the perspective of a child missing her mother.
We spoke with Zarema about the story she couldn’t forget, her relationship with home and belonging, and what happens when personal history finds its way into a song.
A Story That Stayed With Her
“Child’s Prayer” began with the story of a young refugee girl you encountered while working on a documentary. What was it about her looking to the brightest star and speaking to her mother that stayed with you so powerfully?
That was the story of a young girl who had lost her mother in an airstrike and also lost her leg. Her grandmother, in trying to comfort her, told her that her mother now lives at the brightest star, so this little girl could look at the stars at night and talk to her mother.
I was so moved by her tragedy, and by her tender innocence in desperately trying to reach out to her mom, that I had to step aside from my work on the documentary to just sit and cry.
You called your parents in Crimea the morning after hearing the girl’s story, and your father suggested that you write a song about it. Do you remember what happened emotionally and musically when you sat down to compose that day?
I usually write music and then try to fit lyrics to the melody I’ve written. The emotional impact that the story had had on me inspired me to come up with a melody that I thought set just the right tone. I wanted to write lyrics from the perspective of a young child who misses her mom and tries to hold on to her connection with her. Seeing my father and mother’s response gave me additional encouragement to complete this song.
You chose to write the lyrics from the perspective of a young child rather than as an adult observing her experience. How did you find that voice without making the story feel overly dramatic or speaking for a child whose trauma you could never fully know?
To be sure, I will never fully grasp the trauma that this poor child has endured, but I can certainly imagine her perspective and the emotions she must be feeling with the loss of her mother. My objective wasn’t to dramatize her voice, but to express it in a very real way that we all can relate to.
Home, Identity and Displacement
Your own childhood carries a history of displacement: you were born in exile and later learned about the genocide and forced exile experienced by the Crimean Tatars. How has that family history shaped the way you understand belonging, home and the experiences of displaced children?
I have an innate sensitivity to the inequity and unfairness that some people experience. My own background makes me cherish the freedoms, advantages, and security that I have today, as well as a strong sense that all children deserve those same feelings of comfort, acceptance, and belonging. They all deserve to be proud of their identity and to be secure in their own safety.
You have said that growing up as part of a marginalized minority made you especially sensitive to oppression and injustice. When did you first recognize that your personal history was also influencing the subjects you wanted to address through music?
In 2008, not long after I moved to LA, I met a kind lady from Moscow who told me that her father had been one of the Soviet WWII soldiers who had been assigned to deporting the Crimean Tatars from their homeland on that fateful day of May 18, 1944. She expressed to me that her father had often told her that that was his most horrific memory from his entire time in the war.
It was very healing to me to hear her expressions of empathy about my ancestors’ experience, being forced onto overpacked cattle trains for a deadly 21-day trip with no water or food, a trip on which more than half of them would die en route or shortly after arriving in Middle Asia. In fact, for more than fifty years, we were not permitted to go back to Crimea, punishable by imprisonment!
This background of oppression and injustice was very formative to me and made me very sensitive to the mistreatment of innocent and vulnerable people, especially children. Naturally, these feelings have had a big influence on my music, starting with my very earliest songs about Crimea.
Beyond the Numbers
“Child’s Prayer” is specifically dedicated to refugee children who have lost parents or experienced life-altering injuries in war. What do you hope listeners understand about these children beyond the statistics and news images that often define how conflict is presented to us?
It’s important for us not to think of these poor children as numbers on the news. They’re not just another horrible image of war on the screen, they’re real people just like you and me (or our children), who are innocents who were just caught up in the middle of something they could never have controlled or avoided.
I often think about how an amputee child must wake up every morning and realize that they no longer have their arm or leg, and how many times they must replay in their minds the day that their tragedy happened to them. How they must think, “What if I had been someplace else when it happened?” “What if I had been someplace safe?” And then they realize that that’s something that’s never going to change, that they have to learn to live with their tragedy, and face it every day, finding strength wherever they can. I imagine it’s often hard to find anything positive to think of or look forward to.
I hope that people who listen to my song share those same thoughts and feel the same empathy and compassion I have for these innocent children. And I can’t help but wish that child victims like that young girl in the story might hear my song and be encouraged by the realization that other people know what they’ve gone through and really care about their circumstance.
Hearing the Orchestra
Kitt Wakeley produced the track, with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra recording at Abbey Road Studios. When you first heard the orchestra around a song that had begun in such an intimate and painful moment, what changed for you?
It made me cry! Kitt was so generous and dedicated to this song. Can you imagine for me as a girl who grew up in the smallest town in Crimea with the biggest of dreams, that one day I would write a song about refugee children and that the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra would play it?! They gave such an extraordinary performance and filled the song with such tremendous depth and strength, it really is captivating. Even I couldn’t have dreamed of such a tremendous gift! I’m tremendously honored and grateful!
An orchestra can bring enormous emotional weight to a song, while “Child’s Prayer” comes from the fragile perspective of a child. How did you and Kitt Wakeley balance that scale so the arrangement supported the story without overwhelming it?
When I wrote music and lyrics, I sent it to Kitt and he just took it to the next level. He wrote the score and then presented it to the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. He was involved in developing the song every step of the way, booking one of the best studios in Los Angeles to record my vocals, being there to coach me when I was recording, and later coordinating the mixing and mastering of the song. Kitt’s production managed to pull in the Orchestra’s big sound into the song, while still perfectly preserving its tenderness, representing the plaintive voice of the young girl.
Why She Keeps Returning to These Stories
“Child’s Prayer” follows your earlier song “I Hold You Child,” which was also dedicated to refugee children. What keeps drawing you back to this subject, and do you see these songs as part of a larger creative or humanitarian thread in your work?
I wrote my previous song, “I Hold You Child,” after seeing an emotional video on social media, interviewing a young boy who was escaping from a war zone with his mother and was thanking a driver for giving them a ride. They were on a small bus and his mother was in tears, and hearing the little boy speaking and acting like a little man, protecting his mother, deeply moved me. It was heartbreaking to imagine a child his age, facing such adult circumstances, challenges, and fears. So I dedicated that song to him and to the many other refugee children around the world.
When I later saw that documentary about the orphaned little amputee refugee girl, yet another innocent victim of war, it just seemed natural for me to write a song about her. These songs weren’t planned, but they certainly reflect a fundamental aspect of my own identity and emotional makeup! To me, it’s an honor to write and record songs about these inspiring little ones and it gives me great satisfaction.
Your life has moved through Uzbekistan, Crimea, Kyiv, Istanbul and Los Angeles, while your work spans music, acting and multilingual voice performance. How have those different places, languages and artistic disciplines changed the way you hear your own voice as a songwriter?
Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor, said, “As many languages as you know, so many separate individuals you are worth,” reflecting the idea that language enriches one’s identity and understanding of the world. And Goethe said, “The more languages you know, the more you are human.” I believe living in different places and being exposed to various cultures shapes us and gives us an expanded perspective.
After someone listens to “Child’s Prayer” alone, perhaps late at night with that image of a child searching the stars for her mother, what do you hope they carry with them once the final note disappears?
I hope they channel their own childhood memories, identify with that little girl, and share that precious child’s hope for peace for all innocent victims.
About Zarema
Zarema is a Los Angeles-based singer-songwriter and actress of Crimean Tatar descent. Born in Soviet Uzbekistan and raised in Crimea after her family returned there following the collapse of the Soviet Union, she has lived and worked across Crimea, Kyiv, Istanbul and Los Angeles. Her work moves between songwriting, acting and multilingual voice performance.
With “Child’s Prayer,” those different parts of her life meet in a particularly quiet way: in the memory of a story, a conversation with her parents, a melody written the following day and, eventually, the sound of an orchestra surrounding the imagined voice of a child looking into the night sky.
FAQ
What inspired Zarema’s “Child’s Prayer”?
Zarema wrote “Child’s Prayer” after hearing the story of a young refugee girl who lost her mother and a leg in an airstrike. The girl’s grandmother comforted her by telling her that her mother lived at the brightest star in the night sky.
Who produced “Child’s Prayer”?
The song was produced by composer and producer Kitt Wakeley, who also wrote the orchestral score.
Who performed the orchestral recording?
The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra performed on “Child’s Prayer,” with the orchestral recording taking place at Abbey Road Studios in London.
Where is Zarema from?
Zarema is of Crimean Tatar descent and was born in Soviet Uzbekistan. Her family later returned to Crimea, and she subsequently lived in Kyiv and Istanbul before moving to Los Angeles.
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