Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

Belly dancers are fun people, but they're not always as daring as you might expect.

Case in point: my instructor, Salome, who insists that she's actually an introvert. Yet, it's difficult to tell from the way she dances.

I went to see her perform last night at a Moroccan restaurant, Casablanca, along with a male performer named Omar of whom I'd heard wonderful things. They both performed twice, changing into two different outfits throughout the evening.

When Omar performed, he wore red harem pants, a long-sleeved red button down shirt opened enough to show some of his chest and a matching red turban, along with a vest and hip-belt covered with coins. He was a master of the zils, which are finger cymbals. His movements were both graceful and strong, and after impressing everyone with his zils, he made his way between the tables.

Some children had already already handed him some money, and he even had to stop playing his zils in order to tuck it into his belt because none of them would do it. But I offered him some money, and he called me up to dance with him. I did but ducked out of it fairly quickly, not realizing how common it was. By the end of the evening, I realized that it wasn't unusual to invite customers to dance.

Then he astounded us all by taking a scimitar and balancing it on top of his turban, then doing low knee bends, sweeps and turns and all sorts of impressive stunts.

Another belly dancing instructor sat next to me, and when Omar had changed he came out to say hello. I was surprised what a quiet, gentle voice he had, because his dance personality is so mysterious and ultra-masculine. But then again, it just proves that belly dancers are performers and many of them are very different off-stage. One symbol of this is their stage names, which they always use in public. I think it helps them to get into character for the dance.

At a Moroccan restaurant, the food is plentiful. The first course was a delicious soup made with tomatoes, lentils and subtle spices. Next was an appetizer of pita bread, which you use to dip into hummus, an eggplant paste and a tray full of eggplants, carrots and chopped tomatoes and peppers, all seasoned to perfection.

Following that is a flaky pastry filled with crumbly meat and dusted with sugar. It's meant to be eaten by the hands, as is everything else. At the beginning of the meal, you're presented with a large towel, which you place in your lap and use throughout the evening for wiping off your hands. I thought it was funny how, even so, we westerners could not stop shaking hands with each other!

The next course, the main course, is a choice between many varieties of chicken or meat. I chose the date chicken, which like everything I had there was absolutely succulent. Then there's a shishkabob of either chicken or lamb. Following that was a couscous dish. And finally, you finish off with a desert of fresh fruit, baklava and the most delicious mint tea ever brewed.

So between this and live performances by the belly dancers, it's an evening to remember.

For my instructor's second performance, she wore another beaded bikini style costume, this time with orange silk. She started out with a fast dance with a scarf, and the children jumped up and ran out as if she were a sequined Pied Piper. They all danced, trying to follow her lead. Surprisingly, some of them picked up on her moves quickly. Then she leaned over to them and said something confidentially to them and they returned to their seats. She told me later that she'd asked them to sit down and would tell them when it was a good time to come out again.

So Salome launched into a slow, sinewy number, full of graceful movements. Belly dancing is impressive when it's fast but slow movements and subtle undulations are what truly impresses an audience.

Now that people knew tips were acceptable, she made her round of the tables and collected quite a few of them. She invited some customers to dance with her. One Indian man did very well, even holding his hands in the proper position above her head. He was either familiar with the dance style or was a quick study.

When Omar came back out, this time he wore a black no-sleeved shirt with matching harem pants and turban, and a coin vest and hip scarf. He was definitely "Omar" again. A cotillion of children hung around him who didn't know how to react. Earlier in the evening, he'd been approached by a father who asked him to tell his daughter that he had never hurt anyone with his sword, since she'd been frightened. But these children had no fear of him and danced wildly, trying to imitate his movements.

He pulled several customers out of the crowd and brought them to center stage to dance for a short while, including me again. Now that I knew it was common, I felt more comfortable. It's amazing I could dance with all that food in me.

I don't think I'll eat much today. I'll wait until I'm hungry, which I expect will take awhile.

Afterwards, I hung around to talk to the belly dancers. I found out Omar has been dancing for 20 years, which surprised me. He was inspired by seeing a belly dancer perform and decided he would like to learn the traditional male dance. So he found an instructor in New York City, dance capital of the United States.

Last night, I dreamt about sequins, coins and silken joy.

Moral:
Everything's better with sequins.

Copyright 2003 by Alyce Wilson

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