Dancing!

Wow, I can't believe it's the day after the fourth of July. I celebrated this holiday by continuing to research organizations. Most of the day was spent researching Palestinian refugee camps and NGO's between Cairo and Jerusalem. I didn't have the luck I had hoped for with organizations here in Cairo, so my plan is to head East. Although I'm not looking forward to being physically and psychologically violated at the Taba border crossing, I feel it is a necessary evil.

Yesterday, the only excitement came in the form of a Sufi show. It was absolutely amazing. And the best part was that there was no charge. The show was so elaborate with around four horn players, eight tambourine-like drummers, two bongo-type drummers, two singers, about five dancers and my favorite, an old man with brass finger cymbals. He was the best on the stage. He was so expressionistic that he simply stole the show. First, they were were all outifitted in traditional white galabiyya (long white robes) and white head wraps, but it seemed that a few of them stood out with their vibrant movements. The brass-clapper guy was obviously the leader. He was seemingly involved in every aspect of the show. Like a director, he seemed to clap signals to the others.

Traditional arabic music is beautiful. I truly enjoy it. I've come across it before at Shiraa (they have a traditional music group), as well as at the Peace Music Festival at Tantur, just outside Jerusalem. I went with the group, and watched many of the performers while explaining and selling the Shiraa women's cooperative embroidery.

One of the more interesting bits I've noticed about traditional arabic music is that I prefer less instruments. It seems that more instruments has a chaotic effect, but when one to four instruments are playing, the music seems so spiritual. It's almost as if the silence adds something special to the music. One of my favorite music types of the region (aside from sultry songstresses Fairouz and Umm Kulthum) has to be the solo singers of the quran that are impossible to avoid on most forms of public transit. It's almost as if the songs are sung from within. It's incredibly moving to hear them. The most lasting memory I have of the Sinai, was watching the rugged Sinai desert unfold as I went south from Nuweiba to Dahab with this as the soundtrack.

Anyway, of course, the most amazing aspect of the show were the whirling dervishes. They were absolutely incredible. Some of them spent over thirty minutes spinning. They had so much control over their movements, and seemed to be so well-coordinated, taking off jackets, and their layered skirt-like cloths (some refer to them as spinning napkins) and would take one off and spin it around on over their face. It was absolutely amazing.

There were some points in the show when the music would stop, and the only thing that could be heard was the spinning feet moving on the wood floor. I really believe there is something beautiful in the silence of music. It's almost as a vacuum, it pulls you in, as you anticipate the re-entrance of sound.

Oh, I neglected to mention that I went to the show with members of the Watkins clan, the travelling Canadian family. They are back in Cairo after doing movie and commercial shoots. They are extremely entertaining to be around, but can be a little overwhelming, as they truly draw a lot of attention, sometimes unwanted attention.

It's been a little different not having Tim around entertaining and joking the past few days. There wasn't much of a transition, as I've spent the past two days dedicating most of my time to searching for an organization to dedicate my time and efforts to. I am really excited about the opportunities in front of me, and have high hopes for the next few weeks.

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