Dance Yourself Happy!

The healing power of dance

As you know, October is Breast Cancer Awareness month so apart from urging you to 'think pink' and make a donation to a breast cancer charity, I'd like to share with you an article I had recently published in my local paper, the Stroud News & Journal. 

I have loved singing and dancing for as long as I can remember.

One of my earliest memories is prancing round the garden performing Consider Yourself from the musical Oliver to my long-suffering parents. In fact, I was so obsessed with musicals from an early age that it puzzled me that people didn’t burst into song and dance in everyday life.

For most of my adult life, I have taught and performed Egyptian belly dance. I discovered my passion for Arabic music and dance by chance while working in a multicultural secondary school in France, thanks to the enthusiastic encouragement of my students.

At last I had discovered a sensual and mesmerising dance form that celebrated the female form and could look beautiful whatever the woman’s age, size or shape. I was hooked.

It was only really when I got breast cancer for the first time at the age of 31 that I appreciated the healing benefits of dance. At that time I led a very hectic life in London, heading up a marketing department for a leading London publisher and also teaching dance and performing as part of a dance company. I was devastated. My mother had developed breast cancer - but at the age of 60. "Why me, and why so young?" I asked myself, "I just don’t have time to be ill". I remember that when the consultant told me that I would have to come in for surgery the following week, I told him in all seriousness that it was impossible as my assistant was going to be on holiday. Thankfully, he ignored my protests, and I was admitted a few days later. My treatment that time involved a lumpectomy and a course of radiotherapy. I was just grateful that the cancer was still at a very early stage and that I’d got away without a mastectomy and chemotherapy. I felt tired but listening to music and the support and camaraderie that I got from my dance classes really got me through a difficult time and made me determined to get better so I could perform again.

Fast forward 10 years. I had my annual check-up, when I was told that I wouldn’t need to come any more, apart from for an annual mammogram.

Six months later, I was taken in for a mastectomy, followed by a course of chemo.

Reconstructive surgery was not an option at the time. My worst nightmare had come true. A belly dancer with one boob, great. And a bald one, even better.

I knew I was lucky that the cancer, although aggressive, had not spread but nevertheless I felt really low. At times when I felt really low and too exhausted to see anyone, I put on cheerful, uplifting music and just allowed myself to move as much or as little as I wanted.

In time I regained my strength and energy and rejoined the dance company, motivated by the thought of working on a new show. Before, dancing had played second fiddle to my career in publishing but now I knew that life was too precious to waste doing something when my heart and soul craved something else. I wanted to dance – and to encourage other women to do the same, whether through belly dance, African dance, burlesque – or simply bopping around their living room.

This year I discovered Healthy Steps - Lebed Method, and knew immediately that this medically recognised form of movement was a fantastic way of helping other women to discover the healing benefits of dance. So I trained in it and am starting up classes in my area.

Originally created for breast cancer sufferers and people with lymphoedema, it is safe and gentle and so equally beneficial for anyone with limited mobility. It works on the lymphatic system which helps to reduce the swelling associated with lymphoedema, and encourages the body to regain full movement, something that – as I know from my own experience – can be difficult after mastectomy and reconstruction.

But, whatever your age or level of fitness, Lebed helps you to feel good mentally as well as physically, to improve energy levels - and, most importantly, to have fun.

So, that’s my story. I hope that it will encourage you too to discover your inner dancer. Your age, shape, size and level of fitness really doesn’t matter. It is not about steps, it is about feeling good. The way I see it, dancing with the feet is one thing but dancing with the heart is quite another.

 PS A big 'thank you' to Tracey Gibbs for this fab picture of me which she took in Luxor during the Fahar Festival this year. Amazing what a great photographer and good lighting can do for you! 

Dancing Across the UK and Catching Up with Old Friends

I’m aware that it’s ages since I’ve last written.  Somehow life – and dance – just got in the way.  But it’s been a joy to immerse myself in dancing and teaching over the last few months as it’s what I love most.

Johara Dance Company's ‘Elemental’ tour is now well underway and on Saturday we did a show at the Bloomsbury Theatre, London.  Whereas on previous occasions, we relaxed into the performance,  this time we were all affected by nerves.  The combination of performing in front of our ‘home crowd’ and knowing that the performance was being videoed made everyone edgy.   And speaking for myself, I don’t think it was my greatest performance.  That said, it was great to get such effusive feedback from dancers and teachers I really admire such as Maggie Caffrey (pictured below with partner Jacques, Sharon Gordon and Kathak teacher and performer, Sushma Mehta) and Heather Burby, as well as from friends and family.  We knew that this show was breaking new ground but I think the audience was surprised by it.  Jo Wise should be congratulated for taking the dance in such a radically new direction.  Like other company members, I feel really privileged to be a part of the experience.

 This month I’ve also been crossing the UK to teach workshops.   I had a lovely – though wet - weekend in Cornwall teaching Bollywood for Liz Newman, and the following week taught a Bollywood workshop in Stirling for Warda before going to the weekend at Ford Castle, organised by Farida Dance.

 One of the things I love most about this dance is catching up with old friends – as well as making new ones.  At Ford it was as though my dance history was flashing before my eyes; I first met Sara Farouk over fifteen years ago and  haven’t seen her much since; Tracey Gibbs was one of the first dancers I ever met, and Anne Kingston, Kay Taylor and I, well, we go back an awfully long way too. And I enjoyed spending some time with Charlotte Desorgher, whom I’ve only met fleetingly before.

 The atmosphere at Ford is always great, with everyone up for enjoying themselves.  Kay and I spent much of the time doing the final assessments for teachers on the last JWAAD Diploma Course.  It was great to see how they had all evolved into such good teachers, each with their own individual teaching style.

I did teach some workshops myself – my take on the Bambuteyya (aka as the Drunken Sailors Dance – not I hasten to add the official description!); Cairo Goes to Hollywood (aka as Camping it Up with Confidence) and Samba Reggae Fusion.  I don’t think I’ve ever had such fun teaching – largely due to the enthusiasm with which the women threw themselves into all of the classes. 

The Return of the Warrior Woman

Speaking of passion, there isn't anyone who exudes it more than Berlin-based teacher, Raksan.  Readers of this blog will know how much I love her dancing.  When she dances she does so with every fibre of her being. It's magical.

A couple of weekends ago, she was back in the UK, teaching for Sabine Dawson in Salisbury. The first workshop was Gypsy Fantasy - Balkan Beats and Wild Women.  We were invited to 'explore our passion, sensuality and wildness'.  It was really enjoyable to learn some basic technique, listen to the music and just let go.

Sunday's workshop, aimed at Intermediate level and above, was completely different.  Billed as 'Contemporary Oriental Dance a la Raksan', it was quite challenging for anyone without a background in ballet or contemporary dance, but really rewarding nevertheless. We spent the first two and a half hours doing stretches in preparation for dancing, and it was great to feel that loosened up and flexible when we started putting together dance sequences.  

The workshop made me realise how unrealistic it is to expect to achieve that level of skill without putting in the work. And unfortunately, belly dance has always been judged as an 'easy' dance to learn.  It certainly isn't - especially if you want to achieve a professional level.  And watching Raksan dance certainly inspired me to work on my own dancing. 

The Power of Passion

Don't ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.

-- Harold Whitman

Having just completed another JWAAD Teacher Training course that I had organised in Stroud with Beatrice Curtis and Jan Piggott, I came home, put my feet up and reflected upon the weekend.  The women on the course were great - friendly, supportive, eager to learn, and passionate about the dance and teaching.  They had all expended money, time and energy on the course because they wanted to improve their teaching skills to better inspire that passion and enthusiasm in others. What better motivation to teach than that?

I have never found anything as rewarding as teaching belly dance. Women often come to their first class feeling inadequate, unconfident and unhappy with their appearance. They may be women who haven't exercised in years and are looking for a new hobby, they may be women who've just had a baby and want to get themselves back in shape, they may be women, who, with a million and one pressures in their daily lives, just want to take time out to do something for themselves.

  

Whatever their reason for coming, they usually don't bargain for the immense personal transformation that follows.  Women rediscover who they are, reawaken that sensual goddess that lurks within all of us - and blossom in the most extraordinary ways.  And for a teacher, it's really exhilarating to witness.

I have been learning and teaching this dance now for many years.  Yet, I realise that on some level, I always resisted giving myself to it completely. And I know I'm not alone in this; I've met so many other women who feel the same.

Barbies gone Bad, the Egyptian hornpipe and strains of Aida

I know, I know, it's been a long time since my last blog. You may have wondered if I'd fallen down a black hole, been abducted by aliens or downsized to a yurt in deepest Peru. (All of which I have to admit do seem preferable to the endless discussions about the bad weather and the credit crunch.)

But no, I've actually had a very busy summer - even if it does seem a very long time ago now.  The JWAAD Summer School was as hectic as ever - in fact, more so, as the Diploma course was running throughout the week and I was teaching a number of modules.  But there was plenty of time for playing too - not least at the Thursday night party.  Each year has a different theme which fires up people's creativity in a quite extraordinary way.  And this year's theme ' Barbies gone Bad' was no different.  Seeing Jim Boz and the 'Angels' (ie Summer School helpers) dancing to 'I'm a Barbie Girl' made an indelible impression...

After a week at Summer School, it was off to Verona for five days with my mother to go to the opera.  I was a little apprehensive about this one as it was organised by Saga, and I'm still too young to be eligible (hooray!) so I had to be enrolled as my mother's 'carer'!  But in fact we had a great time and the other people on the holiday were great.  Jean had done VSO with sexually abused children in Russia following her retirement from teaching and Nick was a mine of musical information having been a musician and director with the Royal Philharmonic and London Symphony orchestras.  And the music was quite magical; I shall never forget the sheer grandeur of the Triumphal March in Aida, as 150 extras  - including dancers, singers and horses - paraded around the stage. Equally memorable was the poignancy of Rigoletto - and wild enthusiasm with which the Veronese audiences applauded the performers, who seem to enjoy an almost superstar status.

Then it was back home, in time to organise the first JWAAD Foundation Course weekend in Stroud.  The women on the group were great and Beatrice Curtis, Jan Piggott and I had great fun teaching them.  This autumn is jam-packed with Teacher Training in fact, as I'm organising three courses and teaching on the Diploma programme.  When I resolved to devote more time to dancing, this wasn't quite what I had in mind, but it's rewarding nevertheless!

So it's been a somewhat hectic Summer.   So much for my resolution to do less and relax more. But I think that's a gradual process, after all, as they say, Rome wasn't built in a day.  Anyway, now I'm back in the swing of things, I shall get back to blogging like a good 'un - promise!

The Solace of the Zaar

The Zaar is a community healing ritual of drumming and dancing, primarily involving women and led by women.  It was said to have originated in East Africa and has been practised in Egypt since pre-Islamic times. 

While the oldest academic references to the Egyptian Zaar date back to 1862, archaeological remains show that this type of ritual played in part in the lives of Ancient Egyptians.

Whereas the Tanoura dance is done as a means of connecting with God or a higher being, the aim of the Zaar is to pacify everyday spirits. It also serves to harmonize the inner lives of the participants and provide a space in which women can 'work out the tensions and frustrations of social constraints which limit their movements, their dress, their voices and even their dreams.'  Little wonder that it is viewed with suspicion and even hostility in many quarters.

Because it has a marginal status in Egypt and is part of the underground culture, Zaar music and songs have survived with little interference from outside influences.  The downside is that many of the songs have been lost and at present there are only 25 people in the whole of Egypt who carry its musical legacy.

One of the highlights of our trip to Cairo was a performance of Mazaher, a Zaar ensemble, at the Makan Egyptian Centre for Culture and Art (ECCA).  Crammed into a small, dark room, in close proximity to the singers and musicians, it was a truly unforgettable experience.

Ahlan Wa Sahlan Pt 4 - The Power of Randa, Sufi Spinning and the Closing Gala

At the beginning of the week, we registered and booked the workshops we wanted to do.  It's fortunate that the dollar is so weak against the pound because it certainly didn't come cheap!   Three-hour 'Super master classes' with the likes of Randa, Dina and Soraya were $80, three-hour master classes were $60, and two-hour classes were $40.  Add in the cost of the opening and closing galas and registration, and it's one expensive holiday.

Now that more and more Egyptian teachers are coming to the UK, and there are tailor-made tours such as those organised by Farida Dance, it seems sensible to choose master classes or two-hour classes with the non-Egyptian teachers.  Firstly, there were fewer people so you actually got to learn something, and secondly, the subject matter was often more interesting. 

For example, I really loved the Tanoura workshop I took with Madrid-based teacher, Mohamed El Sayed. He seemed a gentle, joyful kind of person and it was wonderful to work with live music too; he brought along a singer, req, nay and darbuka players.  Mohamed obviously has a big following in Spain and South America as the majority of people in the class were Spanish speakers.  This was a big advantage as he didn't speak any English, and I found his translator's English  far less comprehensible than Mohamed's Spanish, which fortunately I more or less managed to follow.

After getting used to turning by changing direction and varying arm positions, we all got to spin as a group.  Sufis spin only to the left, and this takes some getting used to. Every few minutes there was a dull 'thud' as another person keeled over. 

After the break we got to spin in the big Tanoura and Sufi skirts. They really are magnificent. The Tanoura ones are made for performance, much more colourful and weighted with a thick band of rubber, while the Sufi ones are hemmed with very thick rope. Apparently there is only one person in Egypt who makes them. (I was momentarily tempted to buy one for some home spinning but then remembered the excess bagage we'd already accumulated over the previous few days and thought better of it!)

The music has a haunting, meditative quality with an insistent rhythm that builds up in speed. It's a very special feeling having that weight to ground you when you feel that otherwise you are spinning so fast that you might take off.  I find sitting still to meditate extremely difficult, but spinning is a great way of clearing the mind.

Maja, a Russian-born dancer based in Miami, gave another interesting class in Gypsy Tribal Fusion. I loved the combination of Arabic, Flamenco and Romany Gypsy movements.  At one point she taught us how to use silk fans.  We had to make do with plastic plates, which made me smile until Jo pointed out that it was no more ridiculous than making people put a shoe on their head as a candelabrum substitute (which, yes, I have been known to do).

Having said that I felt I learned more from the non-Egyptian teachers, I really enjoyed the piece of choreography we learned at Randa's masterclass. 

The Ahlan Wa Sahlan Festival Pt 3 - The Magnificence of Mona and Catching up with Keti Sharif

It's curious being here with a VIP.  As organiser of the Bellydance Congress, Jo is very much in demand. Other international teachers, who previously didn't show much interest in the UK scene, are falling over themselves to say 'hello'.  As Jo admits, it makes her life much easier.

I'm enjoying meeting new people - and bumping into dancers I have met at other workshops, such as Bernard from Paris and Raja, from Lille - a truly wonderful dancer, full of passion and flair, who I first met at a Horatio and Beata Intensive and then performed with in a show in Biarritz when a Parisian dancer fell ill.  (My abiding memory is of her stunning finale - and of getting locked out of the theatre with my friend Yvonne during rehearsals and having to scale a wall to get in, only to find that there was no time for me to practise with the orchestra, or even mark through what I was going to do to somebody else's music in front of an audience of 500 people.)

That ranks as one of my scariest experiences, but the masterclass with Mona el Said wasn't far behind. My God, she's the ultimate maa’lima (boss woman). She gave short shrift to anyone wishing to sit down, telling them that they should go back to their room if they were tired, and told the people on the door to shut it in no uncertain terms.

But she danced with such passion that she made me cry.  She doesn’t teach as such, you just follow her dancing to a piece of music, which keeps you on your toes as the choreography changes each time she dances.  She used all the signature moves I have seen in videos of her over the years.  I’m not sure how the younger dancers felt about her, some looked rather bemused. I was interested to see that there were (only!) about 80 students in the workshop, compared with 150 for Soraya and nearly 200 for Randa. But Jo and I agreed that she’s a legend and has to be respected as such.  It was dancers like her and Fifi Abdou that made me fall in love with this dance.

Ahlan Wa Sahlan Pt 2 - From Brazilian shimmies to the Nubian Village

Sunday 29th June

We learned some of Soraya’s techniques at a three-hour master class today.  She had a male translator with her who was almost as tiny as she was (especially as she taught without the mega heels she wore to perform) and focused on a variety of different shimmies, from Egyptian to Vibration and also the ‘Knife’ shimmy, where you imagine you have your knees tied together, your back against the wall and are pinned to it by a knife in the middle of your forehead, just under the belly button and between the knees.  You move your knees backwards and forwards rubbing them together.  I’m not really sure what the purpose of the analogy was – but apparently that was how she was taught the move. 

Soraya did her best to manage such a vast group of women, sometimes leaping off stage and hurtling around the room to demonstrate a movement, but it was still a challenge to see her – not least because some women were hell-bent on standing so close to the stage that they formed an inpenetrable wall.  Soraya’s class was fun though, and she did use some interesting imagery, which sometimes her translator was reluctant to translate.  They seemed to involve buttocks and pencils.

It was a novel experience being in a room of about 150 women, many of whom would have killed their granny (if not their entire family) to get a place at the front, refused to move when the lines were rotated – and crowded round Soraya in a scrum to get a picture with her at the end of the workshop.   I really don’t understand this desire to get your picture taken with the ‘star’, but I appear to be in a minority.

It was then off to the disco, for a Bollywood workshop...

The Ahlan Wa Sahlan Festival - Our Arrival and the Opening Gala

Friday 27th June

And so to Cairo for the Ahlan Wa Sahlan Festival, organised by Raqia Hassan.  I’m here with Josephine Wise, who’s teaching at the festival, and we’re lucky enough to have a room at the Mena House Hotel where the activities are all taking place – and a view of the Pyramids.   Every so often as I write this I look up, and there they are, in all their glory.  It’s heaven.

I came to the very first festival, which was held in Sharm El Sheik, but haven’t been back since.  It’s certainly grown in size in the intervening years.  There are a number of big names from Cairo teaching, including Dina, Randa, Soraya and Mona El Said. And the British, Europeans and North Americans are definitely outnumbered by the Japanese, Chinese, Taiwanese, Koreans, Brazilians and Venezualans.

The first person we saw when we arrived at the Mena House was Zaza Hassan, who’s now something of a mega star, being a judge on the Lebanese Star Academy (for dancers). 

In the course of the next few hours, at the opening gala,  we bumped into Leila Haddad, Jillina (Belly Dance Superstars), Nabila (from Berlin), Yasmina, Morocco and, of course, Raqia herself (pictured here with Jo.  I realised just how long I had been doing this dance, thinking back of the number of workshops I had taken with them, many of which I had helped organise, either independently or for MADN.   I suddenly felt very old.  At the time there was no Ahlan Wa Sahlan, nor many other international festivals.  It seems like a lifetime ago now.

Glut power, the Suhaila Salimpour way

I have just returned from Exeter, where I took a truly inspirational three-day intensive in the Suhaila Salimpour format of Arabic Dance, with Sabriye, and organised by Tatanya. 

I went with little prior knowledge, only Raphaelle's enthusiastic endorsement of the technique  - and the caveat that I'd feel like a total beginner again.  How true.  It was certainly challenging; by the end of the three days I thought my brain would explode with so many demands made on it.  And my gluts haven't been the same since!

But it was really worth it. As I've said before, when you've been dancing for some time, it's easy to get stale and lack inspiration. There are always new things to learn, but it's a question of finding the ones that speak to you.  This course definitely did.

Sabriye is one of Suhaila's senior teachers.  Based in Dubai, she is a lovely, elegant performer and a fun and down-to-earth teacher.  I enjoyed every minute of her teaching, even though my body often refused to do what was expected of it!

Glut squeezing is a key aspect of Suhaila's technique - and one that I have yet to master with any great success.  When Sabriye did a side-to-side using just her gluts, her hips moved with real force.  My effort was more like a twitch.  I've definitely got my work cut out.

By all accounts, all this glut activity can become something of an obsession. As part of the warm-up you spend some time practising your squeezes - both cheeks, right only, left only and both - at various speeds. By the end of three days you find yourself squeezing at every available opportunity.  This can go undetected when you're a novice, but with practice the movements get much bigger, and so harder to conceal - even under a big coat.  You have been warned! 

There is a serious side to all this buttock work.  Using the gluts helps protect the knees and also frees you up to build up layers of movement.

The course was actually a five-day one but I arrived on the Saturday night in time for the hafla, and stayed for the following three days. The numbers were very low, for several reasons, I feel. 

Britain's Got Talent - A Thumbs-up for Dance in the UK

This year's Britain's Got Talent was very inspiring, and it was fabulous to see dance fare so well in the competing rounds and, of course, in the final itself.

The fact that the final was watched by a staggering 13 million people, and included song, dance - and a dancing dog! - shows that the great British public still has an appetite for those kind of variety acts that used to be the mainstay of Saturday night entertainment.

George Sampson was a very worthwhile winner, with his fantastic, modern take of Gene Kelly's Singing in the Rain.  His surprise and delight at winning brought a tear to the eye - followed by yet more when he said he was going to use his £100k winnings to pay off his mother's mortgage.

But I loved Signature, with their innovative and energetic blend of Michael Jackson and bhangra. Suleman Mirza, a trainee lawyer, and Madhu Singh, a sales assistant, were just magic. And audiences were captivated by the performance of Muslim Suleman, who performs a Michael Jackson tribute act, and Sikh Madhu, who entered carrying a broom, and then let rip with some banghra. On a single day their BGT audition rerun on YouTube exceeded five million viewers. 

And their story was inspiring too; as Suleman Mirza said in an interview in the Daily Telegraph, "Our routine is about togetherness and overcoming conflict. I start the act with a Western dance, and then Madhu comes on stage. I look down on him because I don't understand his culture. But he surprises me, and he works really hard, symbolising immigration, and then we work together, and show that everyone can get on."