As late as the 19th century, Egyptians were not considered ‘real’ Arabs, even though they first came under Arab rule over 1300 years ago. (2) Nevertheless, Egyptians identify more strongly with their Arab than with their Pharaonic history. (3) It is probably impossible to determine whether or to what extent ancient Egyptian dance styles may have been combined with later Arabic Bedouin traditions. (4) Further complicating the question of hybridization is the complex cultural history of the region including invasions by and contacts with the Ethiopians, Libyans, Persians, Assyrians, Greeks, Romans, European Crusaders, Mamluks, Ottomans, French and British. During Islamic history alone, Egypt came under the rule of a series of Muslim dynasties with capitals situated at various times in Medina (Saudi Arabia), Damascus (Syria), Baghdad (Iraq), Cairo, and Istanbul (Turkey). (5) An in-depth investigation into thousands of years of cultural mixing is beyond the scope of this paper. Whatever the pre-nineteenth century etymology of Egyptian dance, we know that the contemporary nightclub form, while most strongly grounded in traditional Egyptian baladi dance, is an international hybrid that consciously incorporates rhythms, and musical and movement motifs from a broad range of Middle Eastern and North African ethnic and regional styles. Some of the more commonly used include Saudi Khaleegy, Turkish chiftitelli and karislama 9/8, Persian 6/8, Egyptian zar, baladi and Saidi, Lebanese and Iraqi debke, and Morrocon 6/8. In addition, raks sharki also incorporates such balletic influences as more expressive use of arms, staging, refinement of carriage and the employment of choreography.

Baladi is a cultural concept, the meaning of which seems essential to understanding Egyptian dance and culture; however is very difficult to grasp fully because it has so many different usages. In performance it can refer to a musical rhythm, music and dance style, and costume. More generally it encompasses a way of life. In reference to the latter usage, anthropologist Evelyn Early provides the following comprehensive definitions:

By David Roberts 1839

Historically, “baladi” indicated the locals, the Egyptians, as versus the Turks, the Mameluks, the French, or the British. To be ibna’ al-balad, sons of the country, was to defend Egypt against French and British occupiers. Balad, a noun, means community—whether country, city, town or village; in colloquial Egyptian it can mean “downtown” or village. Baladi, the adjective form, means local or indigenous. Through time, baladi has come to connote the residents and life of urban quarters [in Cairo]. It is a self-descriptive, emic term that can roughly be translated “traditional” but which also retains a rich infusion of the local and authentic. The early nineteenth-century historian Abd al-Rahman al-Jabarti used ibn al-balad to mean urbanite (Cairene) Muslims who shared a dialect and a religion as opposed to foreign rulers who spoke stilted Arabic and violated Muslim norms. (6)

Baladi implies many concepts at once: a cultural heritage, a way of life, a value system, a source of identity, a mode of self-representation and of self-valuation. With respect to dance performance, it may be more accurate to say that baladi is not merely a definable style but an attitude towards self, the community and world that comes through the dance. Anthropologist Unni Wikan similarly translates baladi as “native” or “of the people” but notes it can also be used to mean “backward, uncouth, rough.” (7) An important concept of baladi is its self-definition in conscious opposition to the afrangi or Westernized populations—those either of non-native heritage or the urban elite who follow Western lifestyles and consumption patterns. Early elaborates on this definition-through-dichotomy:

Baladi is a rich cultural concept based on a series of traditional: modern (baladi:afrangi) oppositions, which contrast baladi people (who are resourceful, authentic, religious, and honourable) with afrangi people (who are gullible, superficial, nonreligious, and pampered). . . There is the baladi society of the street versus the afrangi society of isolated villas; there is the cottage-industry, informal economy of baladi business versus the industrial, professional sphere of afrangi work; and there is the colorful folk religious devotion of shrines versus the pallid afrangi religion of mosques. Although baladi people tend to live in low-income quarters and afrangi people in middle- and upper-income areas, the two life-styles are not strictly tied to economic class or consumption. Some millionaire merchants live a simple life near their baladi quarter warehouses; some low-income Egyptians struggle to emulate consumption styles of the afrangi populations. (8)

Samia Gamal & Farid Al Atrache

Thus we see that the baladi way of life identifies with the indigenous and local, whereas the afrangi world-view identifies with the foreign and global.
As a term relating to Egyptian dance, baladi is often interpreted by Westerners to mean “country dance” or folkloric dance. Although baladi has its roots in folk culture, just as dwellers of the urban baladi quarters have ties to rural family histories, this understanding may obscure the aspect of baladi culture as belonging to Cairo’s urban working class. Furthermore, Egyptian peasants of the countryside are called fellahin (from Lower Egypt) and Saidi (from Upper Egypt), (9) with their own dance styles and rhythms, fellahy and Saidi, respectively.

Egyptians themselves have difficulty defining “baladi” as dance terminology to Westerners and information is often inconsistent. Sometimes baladi is used to refer to any folkloric segment of the nightclub show. Alternatively, the baladi section may refer specifically to the taqsim-baladi portion of the routine that often follows the “opening.” (10) Lala Hakim, native (upper middle-class Christian) Egyptian and former member of the state-sponsored Kowmeyya Troupe of Egypt, said that “baladi” can be used interchangeably with “oriental” and “folkloric” to encompass all Egyptian dance. (11)

Cairo as a Centre for Egyptian Dance

Cairo, or Al-Qahira (the Victorious), is the biggest and fastest-growing city in the Middle East and Africa, nearing a twenty million daytime population. Cairo became the capital of the Islamic Arab Empire in 969 AD. As a world tourist destination, Egypt “promotes a consumption of ancient rather than modern culture.” (12) Westerners find the Great Pyramids of Giza more engaging than Cairo’s recent art and culture history. Our discussion encompasses two centuries of Western influence on Egypt’s culture, economy, politics and infrastructure, bearing in mind that this period follows 4800 years of Egypt’s cultural history.

After Pasha Mohammed Ali finally wrested control of Egypt from the Turkish Ottomans in 1805, he began a program of modernization, assisted financially by, and ultimately indebted to, Britain and France. British occupation, from 1882 until the 1919 Revolution, had a profound affect on entertainment culture in Cairo. By the 1920s, Cairo had, “established itself as the centre of the entertainment industry, through which it exported its ideas to the rest of the Arab world.” (13) Western-style nightclubs sprang up to cater to colonial and Egyptian elite audiences. Similar establishments were appearing in Beirut and Algiers, but Beirut’s role as an entertainment centre was cut short by its civil war. After the overthrow of the Ottomans at the end of WWI, Turkey turned it’s back on its Oriental culture, preoccupied with the transition to a democratic, secular society. (14) Hollywood’s Westernizing influence through film peaked in the forties and fifties. President Nasser’s socialist campaigns of the 1950s-60s established Cairo as the capital of Arab nationalism and major producer and exporter of Arabic art and entertainment. As a world city, Cairo continues to attract large numbers of Western and Arab tourists because of the more open, Westernized atmosphere of Egypt compared to other Middle Eastern countries.

Egyptian cinema emerged in the early 1900s, and Egypt quickly became the cinematic centre of the Arab world. (15) With the advent of sound in the 1930s, Egyptian filmmakers drew on the country’s rich performance tradition, creating many Hollywood-inspired musicals with a wide popular appeal. These films often featured bellydancers, propelling the careers of the first generation of Egyptian dance stars Samya Gamal, Naima Akef, and Tahia Carioca during the Golden Age of Egyptian arts, the 1940s to 50s. (16)

Farid al Atrache

Meanwhile, Egyptian composers set about redefining and restructuring Arabic music, combining folk influences and traditional Ottoman conventions with Western classical influences. (17) This flowering of creativity in music coincided with the rise of the recorded Arabic singing stars—Om Khoulthoum, Sayyid Darwish, Abd al-Halim Hafiz and composer Mohammed Abdel Wahab—and the emergence of al-gadid, the ‘new Arabic classical’ music. (18) Egypt naturally became the centre for the Arabic recording industry, which spread the fame of singers and musicians beyond their locale to the rest of the Arab world. Singers, musicians, and dancers who could make it on the Cairo entertainment scene were guaranteed success outside of Egypt. Syrian-born Farid al-Atrache and Asmahan, and Fairuz from Lebanon launched their careers in Cairo to become huge stars throughout the Arab world. These first singing stars and composers of the new music were notable for their ability to bridge the gap between tradition and modernity, combining diverse musical elements into a new form. (19) Music was further promoted through Western-style training facilities like the Cairo Conservatory of Music which continues to teach Western, Arabic and Egyptian folk styles. (20)

After the 1952 revolution that finally ended colonial control of Egypt, President Nasser sponsored and strengthened Egyptian radio and television broadcasting in order to spread his ideas of Egyptian nationalism and pan-Arabism. Using the existing movie industry and live theatre traditions, his government formed policies and infrastructures to promote socialist ideals through broadcasting and film media. (21) These efforts propelled the careers of singers and musicians and further established Cairo as the entertainment capital while making it the centre for Arab nationalism and symbol of Arab independence. (22)

Before turning to look in detail at the historic influences that shaped urban dance performance in Egypt, it will be helpful to consider issues of gender and religion that directly impact dancers and their place in society. Traditionally and historically, Egyptian dance has served a variety of social functions as ritual, (23) entertainment, celebration, social dance, healing and courtship. Depending on the context, dancing is considered more or less shameful. Spontaneous unpaid performances, such as in segregated wedding parties, are seen as appropriate expressions of joy on a happy occasion. (24) Professional dancers performing in the commercialised setting of a nightclub are accorded the highest disapprobation. (25)

To better understand the stigma associated with professional dancers, it is important to gain insight into Islamic cultural attitudes. Back in 1902, Stanley Lane-Poole, professor of Arabic, condemned Islamic attitudes towards women:

The Egyptian ladies . . . suffer from the low opinion which all Mohammedans entertain of the fair sex. The unalterable iniquity of womankind is an incontrovertible fact among the men of the East; it is a part of their religion. Did not the blessed Prophet say, ‘I stood at the gate of Paradise, and lo! most of its inhabitants were the poor: and I stood at the gates of Hell, and lo! most of its inhabitants were women?’ . . . Following in the steps of this pious Father, the Muslims have always treated women as an inferior order of beings, necessary indeed, and ornamental, but certainly not entitled to respect or deference. Hence they rarely educate their daughters; hence they seek in their wives beauty and docility, and treat them as pretty toys, either to be played with and broken and cast away, or as useful links in the social economy, good to bear children and order a household. (26)

The following information is a summary on women’s social roles and obligations according to Islamic Arabic culture, drawn from a number of researchers: Although Arabic women may enjoy sex for pleasure, a woman’s body is not her own but belongs to her family, and the honour of the family rests in her body. (27) Women must be married so that their sexuality can be controlled and thus not pose a threat to men or society. A wife’s primary duty is to provide sex for husband. Her next most important role is to produce and raise children. Women should be obedient and loyal to their fathers and husbands. Women must know how to please their husbands in order to ensure their husband’s attention and support for themselves and to prevent their husband’s being tempted by other women. Men are warned against the seductive power of women, which distracts men from their more important relationship with God. Single women in public are thus seen as capable of creating fitna, social chaos resulting from sexual disorder.

Islamic doctrine promotes an understanding of “body” that sees women’s bodies as only sexual, in contrast to men’s bodies which are primarily productive and political and incapable of inspiring desire. Consequently, a woman “working in the male public space is generally perceived as an erotic invasion.”28) Because women’s bodies are sexual in nature and capable of driving men to do things against the social good (for example tipping a dancer with money that should be spent to feed the family), a woman’s body is by definition shameful. Furthermore, “female entertainers differ from ‘decent’ women because they publicly use their bodies instead of hiding their shame as much as possible. They publicly employ the power of their bodies. . .[to] tempt male customers in public.” (29) It follows then that for a woman to perform in public is shameful (whether singing or dancing), as she openly displays her body and uses her seductive powers for material gain. According to this rationale, professional female performers are considered “fallen women,” functionally indistinguishable from prostitutes. (30) The stigma applied to working dancers thus has several aspects. A woman “on-the-loose” (i.e. not controlled or protected by a husband, father or brother)—not honourably occupied with the domestic duties of wife and mother—is seen as a threat to the order of society and an intrusion on the male public sphere.

The richest source of information and description of dance and music in Cairo and other Egyptian urban centres from the late 18th to early 19th centuries comes from the accounts of European visitors. In A Trade Like Any Other: Female Singers and Dancers in Egypt, Karin van Nieuwkerk bemoans the dubious reliability of this source while acknowledging that with the exception of a few available Arabic texts, it is almost the only source material available on the subject for that period. (31) The following historical information is drawn from her work except where otherwise footnoted. (32)

They are called savantes. A more painstaking education than other women has earned them this name. They form a celebrated community within the country. In order to join, one must have a beautiful voice, a good possession of the language, a knowledge of the rules of poetry and an ability to spontaneously compose and sing couplets adapted to the circumstances . . . there is no fete without them; no festival where they do not provide the ornamentation.
M. Savary, 1787 (33)

There is the class of ‘Almas, or singing women, who follow their art with considerable success, and whose singing has a strange charm to those who can accustom their ears to the peculiar intervals of the Arab scale and the weird modulations of the dirge-like melodies. Sometimes one of these ‘Almas—whose respectable profession must not be confused with the voluptuous trade of the dancing-girls—is hired to sing after a dinner party; but, as a rule, all musical and other entertainments are reserved for those special occasions when the Egyptian makes it a matter of conscience to revel—such as marriage feasts and the periodical festivals of the Muslim Kalendar. It is then that parties of ‘Almas are engaged to sing; groups of wanton Ghawazy dancers are introduced into the presence of decent women, to entertain them with their ungraceful and suggestive writhings.
--Stanley Lane-Poole, 1898 (34)

From European travellers’ accounts spanning the late 18th to early 19th centuries, Van Nieuwkerk proposes two strata of female performers. One was the Awalim (singular almeh or alma) who were a highly educated class of entertainers that performed solely for women in upper class harems. (35) The awalim were composers, musicians, poets and dancers. Their performances were audible but not visible to men. They were highly esteemed for their mawaal or improvised songs. Consequently the awalim were respected, appreciated for their art and known as “learned women.”

The Ghawazi comprised a lower class of dancers. These women performed unveiled in the streets and in front of coffee houses. They were hired by the working classes to perform for men’s parties at weddings and at saint’s day celebrations. There also seemed to exist a third class of dancer-singers (between the other two classes)—the common awalim who performed for the poor in working-class districts.

Dancers and prostitutes were registered as separate professions, but some public dancers combined both occupations. Van Nieuwkerk notes that by the early 1800s, the number of lower-class common awalim and dancer-prostitutes seemed to have increased and explains these changes in light of political events. During the rule of Mohammad Ali (1811-1849), Egypt was visited by increasing numbers of Europeans for whom the famous dancing girls were the country’s chief attraction. (36) This new market provided increased employment opportunities for female performers. Islamic religious authorities reacted negatively to this trend. Accessibility of Moslem woman to infidels was unacceptable. In an attempt to marginalize public women and keep them out of the sight of foreigners, an edict of 1834 banned female dancers and prostitutes from working in Cairo. The public women moved south to Upper Egypt—followed by their European clientele. Van Nieuwkerk notes that “The awalim were increasingly described as singers and dancers, the ghawazi as dancers and prostitutes. It is not clear whether higher-class awalim started to work for foreigners, or if women from outside the profession started dancing and singing to earn a living. At any rate, the number of female entertainers who danced and sang for foreigners at the time was considerable.” (37)

Van Nieuwkerk suggests that these events may account for the gradual blurring of the line between dancers and prostitutes. European tourists were now the main source of income for dancers, and sometimes requested them to wear scantier costumes or to strip. (38) Some dancers turned to prostitution to allay the financial insecurity caused by heavy taxation and the Cairo ban. Resulting from all these trends is the change in connotation of “almeh”: by the early 1800s it had devaluated from “learned woman” to “singer-dancer,” and by the mid-1800s it had come to be indistinguishable from “dancer-prostitute.”
By 1850 the ban was lifted. Female performers were allowed to return to Cairo but with the new restriction of not being able to perform publicly. Through the latter half of the 19th century, a new type of venue for dancers and singers began to emerge in Cairo, partly due to government efforts at maintaining control over performers and their activities, and partly as a result of Western influences in entertainment styles. British colonial presence in Egypt and the expansion of tourism had created a need for Western cabarets, which then influenced Egyptian establishments. (39) Marjorie Franken pinpoints the beginning of the British occupation in 1882 with the coincidence of dancers being associated with prostitutes:

As more Europeans poured into Cairo to make their fortunes under colonialism, and as more British troops maintained that regime, a nightclub district grew up in the Ezbekiya Garden district of Cairo. Theaters and music halls were built—Western-style venues, with entertainment and alcohol. Some European performers appeared in these establishments, but they were filled chiefly by Egyptian entertainers—musicians, singers, and dancers. When the British took control of licensing brothels, many prostitutes shifted to nightclubs as hostesses and dancers. Hence any woman who worked in these places was assumed to be a prostitute. (40)

Meanwhile, the common awalim continued to work as traditional performers for lower class weddings. What is notable about this period is the growing distinction between two circuits of performance: the lower-class wedding and festival circuit, and the nightclub circuit. By the late 1940s the awalim were in less demand at urban weddings because these affairs had become less extravagant and, significantly, unsegregated. Meanwhile, the Egyptian upper class—the Westernized elite—began hiring popular nightclub entertainers for their parties and weddings.

The nightclubs were the scenes of innovation and development of what would become the new, oriental style, but were also seen as centres for vice and immorality. From the time the first nightclubs opened, fath (drinking with customers) was the main task of female nightclub performers, a practice that was very profitable for management and staff. In 1949, the same year that prostitution was made a criminal act in Egypt, the government made attempts to purify the nightclubs. Fath was forbidden but continued clandestinely until 1973 when it was finally abolished. In 1973, the government also instituted a new system of control by issuing licenses for singers and dancers:

To receive a license, the performer had to pass an examination in which she proved herself to be an actual singer or dancer. In addition, she was listed by the police, taxed, and her behaviour with customers was closely watched. Moreover, her conduct on stage and costume were prescribed. The belly had to be covered (with netting material), the slits in her skirts closed, and talking or laughing with customers was no longer allowed. (41)

The awalim distinguished themselves from nightclub dancers by claiming superior morality and authenticity. Groups of common singers and dancers were collectively based in working-class neighbourhoods, often living in the same house. Mohammed Ali Street in contemporary Cairo continues to be the central district for contacting and hiring traditional performers. Such groups were headed by an older experienced female performer or usta who acted as manager, and taught family members and new girls to dance and set the standards of behaviour and conduct. (42)

Under president Sadat’s leadership (1973—1981), Egypt adopted an open-door policy to attract foreign investments. The resultant positive changes in the economy produced a new middle class who had money to spend on leisure and entertainment. The increased demand for dancers resulted in higher wages and tips for performers.43 The second generation of bellydance stars included Nagwa Fouad, Soher Zaki and Fifi Abdou. They and others performed in the big hotel nightclubs, appeared in movies (now in colour!) and entertained Arabic and Western heads of state. The possibility for fame and fortune attracted newcomers from outside the profession. Egyptian girls would practice their dancing at weddings, watch bellydancers on TV and in the movies, and dream of becoming dance superstars. (44)

In the late1980s to 2000 the Egyptian nightclub scene took a downturn. An end to the economic boom was precipitated by the Gulf War, and coupled with the rise of political Islam, had negative effects on Egyptian dance performance and tourism. In contrast to 1957 when five thousand professional bellydancers were registered, only 372 were registered in 2000. (45) Fewer people are hiring dancers for weddings, and most of the hotel clubs have closed due to loss of clientele. For previous generations of Arabs from oil-rich countries, Cairo was a popular vacation destination where they could enjoy diversions that were prohibited in their homelands. They came to Cairo to enjoy the music and dance shows in the five-star hotels, but the younger generations now seek other entertainments. (46) Pressured by fundamentalists, many dancers have retired, and some now surround themselves with bodyguards. (47) Societal pressures have been discouraging Egyptian women from following the profession, and today many of the jobs are filled by foreigners. [Ed note (Shareen el Safy): As of January 2004, the Egyptian Ministry of Culture has declared that it will no longer license foreign dancers who, it is claimed, are taking jobs away from Egyptian dancers. Some nightclub managers have preferred hiring western dancers in the recent past.]

Despite this negative trend, since the 70s Cairo has been visited by increasing numbers of Western bellydancers. The star status of Egyptian dancers attracts bellydance enthusiasts from around the world to see and study with Egypt’s top performers who earn thousands of dollars per show. Egyptian costume-makers have become rich from the patronage of foreign hobbyists and professionals. Western dancers organize training/sightseeing tours to Cairo, as well as bringing famous choreographers and dancers to North America and Europe on teaching tours.

The prevalence of Egyptian dancers in film has provided a record of oriental dance before and during its transformation into the contemporary form. One of the earliest film examples of bellydance is Fatima’s Coochee-Coochee Dance shot by Thomas Edison in 1896. (48) Fatima purportedly came over to the U.S. as a performer in the Chicago World’s Fair in 1893. Her style may have been typical of coffee house performers in Egypt, and consisted of shoulder and hip shimmies, pelvic undulations and spins—all traditional movements still seen in the dance.

The transposition of baladi to the nightclub venue for Western colonial audiences necessitated certain adaptations. Wendy Buonaventura credits singer, dancer and actress Badia Masabny as being the first to open an Egyptian cabaret, the Casino Opera, in Cairo in 1926. (49) Masabny trained a troupe of dancers and cultivated the artistic talent of the day, some of whom became film stars. (Most notable were dancers Samya Gamal, Tahia Carioca, Nayema and Ibrahim Akef. Singers and musicians included Mohammed Abdel Wahab and Farid al-Atrache.) Buonaventura further credits Masabny with all the Hollywood and Western-inspired changes to the dance, including use of veils, more creative use of arms and stage space, choreography and the two-piece belt and bra costumes (bedlah).

According to Franken, Masabny was the first bellydancer to appear onscreen, in 1936. Masabni’s film success set the tone for many more musicals. Hossam Ramzy’s Stars of Egypt video series is a compilation of dance scenes from the heyday of Egyptian cinema spanning the 1940s-60s. Different types of performance venues are clearly distinguishable—obviously integral to the particular story lines: the café chantant, where working class Egyptian men enjoy a water pipe while watching the dancer, who wears a sequinned, see-through version of the baladi dress. (50) We see the baladi wedding where men’s and women’s parties are segregated, clothing and furnishings are traditional, and the dancer performs in an opaque baladi dress with a head scarf. In contrast are scenes of dancers performing in the homes of the afrangi elite, which are more spacious and modern with Western-style furnishings. The male guests wear European suits and the women wear the latest Western evening dresses and jewellery.

The dancer has a modern Western hairstyle, makeup and jewellery and wears the two-piece bedlah. Her dance style and demeanour are more refined and reserved than the baladi dancers. Finally, there are numerous examples of dancers performing in the Western-style nightclubs for foreigners and elite Arabs. The flavour is all sophistication and glamour, the music has a full orchestral sound and the overall visual style (of décor and costume) combines Western modernism with an oriental flair.

In the early black and white movies, the transition from traditional to modern bellydance can be seen in the stylistic differences between individual performers. Tahia Carioca danced very much in the old awalim style, coy and decorous, and almost entirely on one spot. Samya Gamal, another of Badia’s protégés showed her ballet training and Hollywood-star quality in a more expressive use of arms and glamorous style. Naima Akef, from a family of circus performers, had the best technique, choreography and dance artistry of her contemporaries.

The second generation of bellydance stars emerging in the sixties, included Fifi Abdo, a former Mohammed Ali Street dancer; Nagwa Fouad, who went from a very poor background to being the highest paid dancer of her day; and Soher Zaki, a popular favourite, respected for her sweetness and good reputation. (51) Soher retained a very traditional baladi style of dance, performing precise, tight hip isolations largely in place. She was the first bellydancer to dance to a rearranged version of an Om Kholthoum song, a practice that accorded her much respect and which has become a standard part of the oriental routine and proof of a dancer’s artistry. (52) Nagwa Fouad, who emphasized choreography and showmanship, gained popular respect for the dance by producing expensive, opulent spectacles. She was the first to wear yard-length beaded fringe and be backed by forty to fifty musicians. She commissioned many compositions for her shows, including “Ali Loz,” which lampooned the Mohammed Ali Street dancers—an interesting method for bringing a raceier note to the five-star stage.

The modern oriental stage routine that evolved over the course of the twentieth century comprises a formal yet adaptable structure including separate segments, each of which showcase different aspects of a dancer’s ability. The most significant development of the oriental routine is the “opening” or “mise-en-scene.” This section is the first five to twenty minutes of the show performed to contemporary classical Arabic music written specifically for the oriental dancer. (53) It has the feeling of an overture, being an intricate composition with many rhythmic changes and melodic variations while maintaining the cohesion of a single piece. It is in the opening that composer and choreographer/dancer bring together the many different stylistic elements including the more Westernized balletic movements, and it is typically choreographed. Another important development in the routine is the drum solo, which is placed towards the end of the routine.

In the Egyptian night-club routine, dancers usually incorporate a baladi section, in which the “down-home” and “folksy” feeling of the traditional women’s improvisational solo stands in contrast to the stylzed, refined and “classical” style of the opening and other sections of the routine. Ranya Renee, a New York performer and researcher, describes the baladi section as “a stage version of Egyptian social dance, by its very presence inspiring nostalgia for the village days, in contrast to the more Westernized presentational aspect of an opening cabaret piece.” (54)

While nightclub performances were busy adding modern sophistication to traditional baladi, a trend developed in another direction. In 1959 dancer and gymnast, Mahmoud Reda, formed an Egyptian folkloric dance troupe. Inspired by Eastern European troupes he had competed against in the Soviet Union, the Reda troupe evoked the patriotism and nationalism of the Nasser era, came under official Egyptian government sponsorship in 1961, and toured nationally and internationally. Reda’s particular genius lay in creating a completely new dance idiom, which nevertheless retained an unmistakable Egyptian identity. Marjorie Franken writes,

Mahmoud Reda did not depend on adaptations of traditional Egyptian dances to create his choreographies; neither did he simply add Egyptian costumes and details to Western dance forms. He was able to bridge the gap between indigenous movement—dance movements and the culturally specific details of posture and carriage—and choreographed performances for a Western stage. He incorporated existing dance movements whenever possible, and filled in with movements of his own invention that harmonized and synthesized the whole into a dance that was recognizably Egyptian. In one case these stage movements were so accurate that peasants from the countryside identified the town, Sohag, where that exact style of men’s stick dance was performed. At other times, the social situation portrayed was so quintessentially Egyptian that the movements, although invented, seemed just right. (55)

Reda’s dances celebrated and honoured Egyptian life. According to Franken, he “drew on the participatory folk dances of the streets and homes of the Egyptian people, and gave it a new polish and respectability that drew also on Western, audience-oriented dance forms." The troupe was presented on state occasions, which emphasized “the integrity, validity and artistic worth of indigenous Egyptian culture, free…from Western themes and ideals.” Farida Fahmy, principal dancer of the Reda troupe, became famous in the 1960s and 70s by dancing in two movies made of the Reda troupe, Love in Karnak and Mid-Year Holiday. In contrast to the prevailing film images of dancers as fallen women and evil temptresses on the loose (accurate portrayals of public opinion regarding dancers) Farida epitomized the sweet, bint al-balad, “daughter of the country,” surrounded by her family (the rest of the company). (56) Ironically, Farida was a half-British member of the educated elite upper class, as were the other founders of the troupe. The assumption of baladi identity by members of the Westernized upper class lent credibility to Egyptian dance and helped to give Egyptians a new image of themselves.

The Reda Troupe left its mark on the nightclub scene as solo dancers began using folkloric segments in their shows. One of Reda’s innovations was a character piece, based not on a regional dance style, but rather on the women of Alexandria who used their melayas (large black veils meant to cover the whole body when outside the house) in such a coquettish fashion that the veils were banned. The melaya luf has become a standard feature in many Egyptian dancers’ routines.

As a global and Arabic city, Cairo stands at the crossroad between Eastern and Western, traditional and modern. As a contemporary entertainment and performance art, Egyptian oriental dance embodies a myriad of post-Modern issues: gender and economics, primitive versus modern, local versus global, traditional versus Western. As Early writes,

The baladi, traditional way is a rich cultural approach to life that is both authentic, and creatively cosmopolitan and eclectic . . .Baladi people select from a menu of pragmatic, stop gap alternatives that includes both the simple and traditional as well as the complex, Western-oriented, modern afrangi. (57)

Baladi dance, like baladi culture, has a unique adaptability that allows innovation while retaining much of its original character. It is remarkable that a performance style so grounded in “nativeness” has become so cosmopolitan, has retained the “down-home” character even when stylized, and inspires a feeling of connection and identity even amongst foreign practitioners and audiences.

Individual dancers have each put their own mark on the dance through their individual style and formal innovations. The dance draws inspiration from different levels of Egyptian performance tradition; lower class dancers aspire to stardom and some succeed (Lucy, Nagwa, Fifi, Soher). Successful performers and choreographers from both lower and elite class backgrounds look to the traditional and folkloric as sources of creative inspiration, authenticity and artistic legitimacy. Performers nurture legitimacy and respect by staging expensive productions, wearing the latest haute couture costumes, commissioning compositions of their own signature openings, and hiring large bands and famous singers to back them. Dancers experiment with new ideas and others copy what works. Educated performers of the elite class lend credibility to the dance by virtue of their participation.

Much of the richness of raks sharki stems from being centred in Cairo. As a cosmopolitan tourist destination, entertainment centre, and producer, broadcaster and exporter of Arab music and film, it has provided active markets that have stimulated growth in the performance arts for the past two centuries. Dancers worldwide look to Cairo as the source of the most authentic training and the latest innovations in performance and costuming. Despite the current repressive trends towards performance, as the popularity of oriental dance outside Egypt continues to grow, Cairo, Mother of the World, is likely to continue in its dual role as the inspirational source and touchstone.

1. “The tourist industry in the Middle Eastern promotes a consumption of ancient rather than modern culture, and continues to associate the ‘traditional’ with the ‘primitive’; this is not only regrettable, but misleading.” Zuhur, p. 3.

2. Humphreys, p. 36.

3. Ibid.

4. The Bedouin art of the “true” Arabs from whose ranks the Islamic warriors were drawn to spread Islam to Persia and North Africa. Most Bedouin in Egypt live in the desert regions of the Sinai. Ibid.

5. Ibid., pp. 15-19.

6. Early, p. 54.

7. Wikan, p. 46.

8. Early, p. 51.

9. Ibid., p. 65.

10. Taqsim-baladi: an improvisational section in Egyptian dance with music played primarily by melodic instruments such as the nay, violin and accordian.

11. Lala Hakim, in conversation, Montreal, PQ, Canada, August, 2000.

12. Zuhur, p. 3.

13. Buonaventura, p. 148; Zuhur, p. 3.

14. Elliot.

15. Zuhur, p. 14.

16. Franken, p. 266-8.

17. Zuhur; Franken; Sednaoui; Jahal.

18. Zuhur, pp. 8, 10.

19. Ibid., pp. 3, 10. “Mohamed Abdel Wahab was born in 1907 in Cairo. Abdel Wahab began to compose for stage musicals that innovatively began to incorporate Western elements. Always thinking of new ways to enrich traditional song, he often combined the oriental quarter-tone melodies with western rhythms such as the tango, samba and rumba. He also [introduced ]western musical instruments into large Arabic orchestras. Representing a generation in transition, Abdel Wahab is considered responsible for far-reaching changes in Arabic music, giving modern Arabic songs their current musical form. His career spanned 74 years, and [he is] a legend in the world of modern Arabic music and melody. He composed over 1800 romantic and patriotic songs.” Jahal.

20. Sednaoui, p. 125.

21. Danielson, pp. 113-114; Franken, p. 272.

22. Danielson, p. 114; Franken, p. 273.

23. Regarding ritual and unpaid performances at Cairo weddings during the 1930s: “Paid women dancers performed at sex-segregated parties for women…the mothers of the bride and groom danced along with these awalim…to express their ‘joy’. A handkerchief was then spread on the lap of the bride, where female guests would place tips for the hired dancers. Without doubt, these actions had symbolic significance…[by which means] the women guests expressed their hopes that the bride would be fertile and so dispelled any suspicion that they envied the bride. This would put the bride, who was entering this community of women as a stranger, at ease. They also helped the groom’s family (who were responsible for providing this entertainment) pay for the dancers. But dancing simultaneously, the two mothers were expressing their solidarity and mutuality as new in-laws, hoping that their relationship would continue to be free of discord . . . [By contast] modern Egyptian weddings present the dancer’s performance as a commodity, not as ritual work. Only the audience’s ‘spontaneous’ dancing is free of the stigma of commodification.” Young, pp. 39, 40.

24. Ibid., pp. 37-53.

25. “It’s like eating beans for breakfast, anyone will tell you it’s not good for you, but all Egyptians do it,” Essam Mounir, Cairo musician and agent interviewed in Daniszewski, p. 5.

26. Lane-Poole, p. 20-21.

27. Keali’inohomoku.

28. Van Nieuwkerk, 1998 p. 2.

29. Ibid.

30. Van Nieuwkerk, 1995; Van Nieuwkerk, 1998a, p. 21; Van Nieuwkerk, 1998b; Lane-Poole, 1973, pp. 146-147, 159-160; Lane-Poole, 1971; Wikan, 1996; Wikan, 1980, p. 43. Hoodfar, pp. 66-67.

31. Van Nieuwkerk, 1995, pp. 21, 194.

32. Van Nieuwkerk, 1995, 1998b.

33. Van Nieuwkerk, 1995, p. 21

34. Lane-Poole, 1898, pp.159-160.

35. Franken, p. 267. Harem means “taboo” and is the women’s apartments of a traditional Arabic home, off-limits to unrelated males. The areas for receiving were screened off but overlooked male reception space.

36. “Female entertainers were one of the most important tourist sights of nineteenth-century Egypt.” Van Nieuwkerk, 1995, p. 21.

37. Van Nieuwkerk, 1998b, p. 23.

38. Gustave Flaubert, quoted in Buonaventura, p. 76.

39. Buonaventura, pp. 147, 148.

40. Franken, p. 267.

41. Van Nieuwkerk, 1998b, p. 26.

42. Van Nieuwkerk, 1995, p. 135.

43. Van Nieuwkerk, 1998b, p. 25.

44. National Geographic, Explorer Channel.

45. Daniszewski, p. 5.

46. Elliot, p. 3.

47. Ibid.

48. Nugent.

49. Buonaventura, p. 148-149.

50. Franken, p. 267.

51. Soher Zaki was married to one man her whole life, and as a young dancer was chaperoned by her stepfather to all her shows.

52. Om Kholthoum was the most famous and beloved singer of the Arab world.

53. As taught to me by Yasmina Ramzy of Arabesque Academy, Toronto; Hadia; also Tamra-Henna, interviewed on bhuz.com, http://www.bhuz.com/Articles/articles.feature4.asp, p. 4.

54. Ranya Renee Fleysher, “Egyptian Taqsim Beledi,” handout at workshop presented by Venus and the Roundhouse, Vancouver, August 2002.

55. Franken, p. 275.

56. Ibid., p. 265.

57. Early, p. 14.