RETORNO AS RAÍZES

On one of my periodic visits and returns to the San Francisco Bay area where I was born, I was being driven to some now long-forgotten gig by a friend of my salad years, Robaire. Robaire was, and is, among other things I’ll go into later, a dumbec player. We knew each other when we were young and idealistic, both children of that infamous and much-studied decade, the sixties.
Right across from San Francisco, over the Bay Bridge, lays Berkeley, home of the first student revolution in 1964: the shot heard round the world which inspired many other student revolutions that changed much of American opinion and thought (ie., Kent State), inspired the French student revolution, and eventually spread to far-away Greece where the student revolution at the University of Athens was instrumental in bringing down the Junta. It was also the hotbed of other revolutionary cultural ideas which were later accepted by greater America, and even commercialized upon.

Rhea and daughters dancing at Human Be-in, San Francisco, mid-sixties.

Together, San Francisco and Berkeley were the vanguard of what was “happening:” hippies, rock groups, the human “Be-In” (one of the many precursors to Woodstock), LSD a la Timothy Leary, etc. Manifold events occurred, filled with zest, verve and flair. Ken Kesey (author of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest) was caught in a real police car chase outside of Candlestick Park (not to be equalled until O.J. Simpson). President Kennedy had been murdered and conspiracy theories abounded. I was living with Phil Marsh, a rock and roll musician (then leader of the Cleanliness and Godliness Skiffle Band, later to play with Country Joe and the Fish).
Robaire lived in a belly dance commune, one of the many communes that proliferated in Berkeley at that time. I had broken into belly dancing before it became a fad, and was beginning to ride the crest of what was to become a tidal wave of popularity for this ancient artistic and liturgical art form. I had formed a dance troupe based on the model formed by my teacher, Jamila Salimpour, and was anxious to promote and display good, technically competent and soulful dancers.
Robaire and I ran into each other at performances at various sit-ins, be-ins, love-ins, happenings and stop-the-war demonstrations that were the hallmarks of that era. Robaire had long hair and a beard. I had only recently begun shaving my legs and underarms to dance in nightclubs and only wore a bra on stage. Our audiences were joyous and stoned, ecstatically communicating with the higher gods which we, with our temple bodies invoked and called forth. We didn’t just dance. We communicated. We communed. We danced for love, not money. “Make love, not war.”
Here Robaire and I began to part company (but not spiritual communication). He, being a gardener in the daytime, could afford to love it up at performances. Being the divorced mother of two small children (exuent rock and roller, enter first Greek), I preferred to stay home in the day, work at night. Even we belly dancers who danced for higher spirit, joy and love hoped and dreamed of working as a “professional dancer” at one of the then myriad night clubs that existed in the greater San Francisco Bay area. We would edify the general public by showing that our dance was on a higher plane than just sex and eroticism.
We were also going to knock the socks off the Middle Easterners: “But I cannot beleeve you dance like thees and are not from our country!” We would show that we American girls could go the Arabian girls one better, thus spawning “Ameraba” music and dance, enabling Eddy Kochak and others to buy houses in the upper echelons of New York property values.
I started at the Bagdad on Broadway for $5.00 a night in 1969, and gradually worked my way up to being one of the top-earning dancers in the area. San Francisco was then coming out of the “beat” era, but still retained that seedy but European quality, mixed with an exotic Oriental feeling. Tourists were coming from all over the country to see the hippies in-situ (Haight-Ashbury), the first topless dancers ever in America, and, of course, a show, a jazz club, a famous comedian (e.g. Mort Sahl), a play, the biggest Fillipino club outside of Manila, Alcatraz Prison, the cable cars, Golden Gate Bridge. But to cap off the night — Broadway, North Beach (Allen Ginsberg’s “Howl”) and the belly dancers. Many clubs closed their doors at regular closing time, but inside things went on until dawn.
One of my chief regrets in life is that such times die. You can make a movie, you can write a documentary, but you can never re-capture the feeling of such times. Even as I write, my heart constricts to think of the revelling innocents we were, naturally believing such a life could continue, now lost to each other and the selves we used to be, cruelly separated by changing times and tastes.
Rather than elaborate on the decline of Broadway and “legitimate” entertainment in all major American cities (by the encroachment of television and later, video), let me now leave America and arrive in Greece in 1976, broken-hearted, broken-dreamed, but with those same two children to support.
I went to work on the “Athens by Night” circuit which proliferated around Acropolis in Athens, Greece. My dance was well-received by the tourists and I continued to grow and change. Robaire, who had by this time formed his own troupe, inherited some of my dancers, and formed a lovely synthesis. And synthesis was to be the key word now. To shore up the dwindling dance student supply, producers of dance seminars now had to co-operate more if their seminars were to be a success. This spawned week-long workshops with many teachers teaching. My old friend, Robaire, went on to co-produce the mother of all belly dance workshops, Rakkasah, where people travel from all over the world to meet with each other, dance for each other, and sell and buy things from each other.
Meanwhile, poor old Rhea, the performance addict, continued to dance in various cities in Europe simply because night clubs presenting belly dancers which paid decent living wages still existed there.
Now let us go back to the night Robaire and I are in his panel truck on the way to some long-forgotten gig. As is the custom when we are together, we were verbally sparring in a jovial and affectionate way. I was talking about my oldest daughter, Piper, and some of the places where she danced in Athens.
“Now Piper,” says I, “in her act…”
Robaire, with his customary panache, cut me short. “Act?” says he. “I thought it was a dance!”
Well, that started us on a merry verbal chase that passed the time quickly. Although the gig I danced at and who the contest winner was, are erased from my memory, that conversation still stands out. My opinion at that time, which is still my opinion today, is that to be a successful performer and to be able to find and keep work as a dancer, one has to be able to do more than just dance. A moderately good-looking face and body, dynamite stage make-up, and effective costuming are all part of the “act.” Familiarity with Egyptian, Turkish, and Greek music, not to mention Armenian, Lebanese, and other Middle Eastern countries’ music, and the ability to emotionally interpret that music, are also important ingredients for success.

Rhea in Greece, 1994

My “act” has expanded over the years (at 52 I am still fully booked, thank God!!) to include not only the traditional cabaret dance, but also what I call “Art-Interpretive” dance. One example: Rhea and company at an “in” coffee/wine bar under the Acropolis presenting a performance with Antonis Kazantzoglou on recorder playing “O Glikee Mou Aer” and “Saranda Palikaria” (originally danced with veils by Irene Pappas in a monastary in one of her movies). All musicians sing “Hava Nagila,” first as a dirge in minor key, and slowly building to a joyous crescendo in major key with audience participation. Antonis Kazantzoglou on flute plays a “taxim” while I do a snake-inspired floor dance. Antonis plays “Ave Maria” on the electric organ as I explain to the audience that this dance is a celebration of womanhood from matriarchal times, and Maria is the mother of Christ whom we would like to honor with our more ancient dance. The audience has no problem with this. We finish our show with Aikis, the eleven-year old son of Lazarus (the meanest Zembekiko dancer in all of Athens) playing the Bouzoukee. Aikis plays a pure Tsif T’Tele and “Glike Mou Tyrane” (My Sweet Tyrant) after I explain that our aim is to incorporate this ancient, traditional instrument into our repetoire, played by an eleven-year-old futurepalikari (strong man), once more linking past with present with future. Throughout the show, we are accompanied by Evy and Yiorgos on Darboukah and Ivan Fainmel, retired flamenco dancer, on castanets. This performance was repeated at a seminar for the Dora Stratou Theater with the inclusion of an Indian Tabla player accompanying me as I did a Katak-inspired dance, bells on ankles and pelvic area. Slides were later introduced by Anna Lazou, showing the connection between ancient Greek dance and Oriental dance. Anna has now asked me to participate with the Dora Stratou study group as it delves into Eros and Dimitra (Demeter)…and so it evolves.
What is “art-interpretive dance?” It is the stuff you love to do but don’t get paid for.
Perhaps this is a criteria for judging whether it is a dance or an act: do we “dance” for ourselves, for the love of the activity itself, or are we “acting” for others to produce an effect. Webster’s treats the verb “to act” this way: a. to represent or perform by action especially on the stage, b. to feign, simulate, c. impersonate. As a noun, one of the definitions is “a display of affected, insincere behavior.” Few of us would admit to such unworthy motives. Much of dance throughout history was done for others, as an “act” of some form or other.
Why did the ancient, archetypal, nomadic, prehistoric, tribal, matriarchal, cave-dwelling woman dance? For whom did she dance? Gina Shephard threw some light on this issue through the ages in an article published in a paper originating out of Berkeley (Express, May 28, 1993):
“Dance, of course, originated as a holy art. Most of it was done in groups, with simple hypnotic steps used to induce altered states of consciousness. Later, religious dance evolved into folk dancing, which was more social and still mainly done in groups. This, in turn, split into two separate strands of dance: dance as a solo art form which was to be observed rather than participated in, and dancing as a court-ship ritual.”
The first human activity recorded on cave walls was not hunting or war, but dance. The first dances done by humans were of a ritualistic nature, imitating an event seen in nature either to provoke or to forestall its occurence. The first dances, then, were like prayers, invoking unknown forces which could not be explained. People danced for rain, for a successful hunting foray, for fruitfullness of crops, and certainly for the continuation of humanity, which ancient people assumed to be the sole role of women, not knowing how babies originated. It is safe to assume that belly dancing, or some form of belly dancing, was the first dance, done either as a ritualistic celebration of the creation and delivery of a new life, or as a precautionary talismanic invocation against the untimely termination of that life. It is likely that it was done by women who were invested by the matrilineal society with a special power to invoke the gods; thus, the delegated practitioners were regarded as priestesses. This was a dance both hierarchic and hieratic.
Was it an act? Although the pejorative implication of “act” as being insincere probably was not present, it certainly was an imitative ritual performed for others (society, the powers of nature, the goddess, etc.), to produce an effect. It was a liturgical act. Just as in modern liturgies where the priest’s true feelings are unimportant, the dancer had to go on no matter how she felt.
People gradually gained a less superstitious approach to life, and dance was eventually relegated more to a purely diversionary or celebratory function. Although dance lost its holy aspects, and was practised for other reasons, the ritualistic movements of the ancients are still found in modern belly dance.
As dance moved into and through the stages of being an art form on the one hand, and a courtship ritual on the other, it became more of an individualized dance, a direction which was completed in the sixties:

“The age of couple dancing ended with the coming of the beat era, and later the hippie years. Dancing stopped being something you did with someone else. Dance was now self-expression. It was the era of free-form, acid, the Grateful Dead, the barefoot boogie, the granola shuffle. Like so many things during those years, dance was both democratized (anyone could do it) and vulgarized (the art taken out of it).” (Gina Shepherd)

Those of us who learned belly dancing in the sixties are familiar with how this attitude prevailed in the “hippie” belly dance scene of the era.
In short, popular dance (the cultural expression of youth in our society) has now moved more toward the personal end of the continuum, dance for the dancer rather than for other (ie., society, a god, a mate, or an audience). But how many of us as professional Oriental dancers have been able to hang on to the “purist,” internal approach espoused in the sixties. It has gradually faded with the passage of that era, and the greater technical proficiency and professionalism achieved by those who have stayed with the dance all these years. We are on the stage, we do “perform,” it is an “act” for others… no matter how much we enjoy it, no matter how much of a “personal” expression it is. Yet, how many of us would continue the dance if it were purely an “act,” a profession done for a living, without a heavy dose of the personal enjoyment, the “dance for the dancer,” as a strong motivator to keep us going.
I remember a rallying statement which my teacher, Jamila Salimpour, said in 1968: “When I get old, I will be proud to say, ‘I was a belly dancer.’” At that time I thought, “Meee, too!” I didn’t realize then that I would last so long. Now I have to modify that statement slightly: I am proud to say that “I am a belly dancer!”
Rhea began her belly dance career in San Francisco under the expert guidance of Jamila Salimpour in 1967, where she taught and danced in Bay Area during the early seventies. After a soul-changing visit to Greece and Egypt in 1976, Rhea moved with her two daughters to Athens, where she still teaches, choreographs for her troupe, and performs throughout Greece. Rhea currently speaks, performs, and conducts seminars throughout Europe and the United States. Under the profound influence of Athens neighbor, Nelly Mazloum, Rhea’s understanding and thinking about belly dance has deepened as she explores its more metaphysical and spiritual aspects in both theory and practice. www.daughtersofrhea.com

ENTREVISTAS - RHEA por Phaedra Ameerah

Uma entrevista de Rhea of Atenas, Grécia 

por Phaedra Ameerah 

Phaedra Ameerah - O meu primeiro encontro com a lendária Rhea aconteceu em outubro de 1995, enquanto viaja em Atenas, Grécia. Rhea foi gentil o suficiente comigo e meus companheiros de viagem, nos levando ao redor da cidade e para todos os pontos certos de música e dança. Conhecê-la foi o destaque de nossa viagem. Pedi-lhe para nos dizer sobre sua carreira de dança na Califórnia e sobre sua decisão de se mudar para a Grécia. Ela contou sobre sua vida e aventuras, como segue: 

Rhea - Eu decidi me mudar para Atenas depois de um período de férias para o meu trigésimo quinto aniversário em dezembro de 1976, eu havia feito uma cirurgia e não poderia dançar ou dar aulas pelos próximos dois meses. Eu tinha dizimado a pequena quantidade de poupança que eu tinha e fiquei sem nenhuma fonte de renda. 

Eu me estava obcecada com a ideia de que devia ir para a Grécia. Eu não tinha dinheiro, mas comecei a fazer planos para ir mesmo assim. Duas coisas me ajudaram a acumular os meios financeiros para agilizar a viagem. 

Primeiro eu recebi algum dinheiro de uma fonte inesperada, que me permitiu ir não só para a Grécia, mas para o Egito também. Essa fonte era um príncipe da Arábia Saudita, Ibn Al Saud Musaab. Musaab era cliente regular da Casbah, pertencente na época por Fadil Shahin que tocava Oud e violino, além de cantar, acompanhado por Jallalladin Takesh, agora proprietário do restaurante Pasha em San Francisco, Califórnia. Príncipe Musaab sempre foi generoso com suas gorjetas. 

Nós, bailarinas compartilhavamos nossas gorjetas com a banda, os quais tinham visão microscópica. Então, quando Musaab queria impressionar minhas novas alunas e os outras dançarinas que estavam dançando na Broadway naquele tempo, ele colocava uma nota de cem dólares em uma "nota de cinco libras" e entregava para a menina me dar para mim como gorjeta. 

Ele estava tentando impressionar uma jovem linda em um restaurante de peixe em Sausalito, onde tínhamos ido para o almoço. Ao ouvir-me explicar-lhe que gostaria de ir para a Grécia, ele ficou estarrecido. "O quê? Você vai ir para a Grécia, e você não vai visitar o Egito?" Ao explicar os meus recursos financeiros limitados, ele fez um gesto expansivo de puxar um rolo de centenas de dólares do bolso e descascando dez deles. Os olhos da jovem pularam! "Tome isso, mas você deve ir para o Egito." Ele disse. O que eu devidamente e obedientemente fiz. 

O segundo impulso de sorte foi conhecer Marliza Pons no concurso Belly Dancer of the Year Pageant, promovido pelo falecido Sula, onde nós duas éramos juízas. Descobriu-se que o minha aluna, Selene, ganhou naquele ano, e Marliza teve a chance de ver a minha trupe, Nara Nata, em ação. Isso levou-a a convidar-nos para dançar em Las Vegas, ministrar um seminário e fazer show em clubes. Nós também levamos Fadil Shahin, pois queríamos ter a certeza da qualidade de musicalidade. Naji Aziz participou desse seminário e decidiu me trazer a Salt Lake City para ensinar. A cidade era um viveiro de apaixonados aficionados da dança do ventre, que até hoje são defensores ávidos, como Jason e Yasmina, que em sua maioria desfrutavam do "estilo antigo". Esses seminários e shows,  me forneceram o dinheiro para minha passagem para a Grécia. 

Some would ask me to explain why I didn't choose Cairo over Athens. That is a long story, fit for another time. Suffice it to say that I had a dream that I was dancing in the Greek theater, after seeing Melina Mercouri there, addressing us students with passion to save Greece from the then existing junta. I had also studied Greek mythology and had read the Odyssey and the Aenead. This was a prerequisite for my major, psychology, and also for my minor, English literature. But I always loved fairy stories and had checked out every fairy story from the library when I was a child. Archetypes have always fascinated me, although at a level that I had not been previously able to identify. Greek mythology, however, captured my imagination as no Grimm's fairy tale ever did.

I wanted to breathe the rarified air that Socrates, Homer, and Plato breathed. Now I have been living here ever since Easter of 1977, under the shade of the Parthenon and Acropolis.

But no matter what my romantic inclinations were, I probably wouldn't have left San Francisco at all if things were still as they were in their heyday. San Francisco teamed with exotic night life and after hours clubs. People went from one club to another: Casbah, Bagdad, Greek Taverna, Minerva Taverna, and Plaka Taverna. If they could still stand, they crossed the San Francisco Bay Bridge to go the Jack London Square and take in the Taverna Athena, where the Farfisa player kept a gun under his electric organ in case any irate, cuckolded husbands wanted to get even.

There are no words to describe those days. All that was missing was Al Capone and bathtub gin. My goodness, we had fun in those days of wine and roses. And money! The dancers wore furs (before that became a social taboo, although people still wear leather shoes), had salon hairdos, wore designer dresses, and bought Parisienne perfume. We took pride in making our own costumes. We went out for breakfast with the high rollers after the show and got together for two-martini lunches to discuss any gossip we might have missed in the preceding eight hours. Would I leave San Francisco then? No way!

However, things change, as things have a habit of doing. As the old poem goes, "Love is rare, and life is strange, and nothing lasts, and people change."

People at that time blamed it on the recession. "People don't have money." "Times are tough." It's almost always societal changes and changing tastes. What was so wildly flamboyantly "in" began to die slowly. No one else saw her, but mythic Cassandra spoke in my ear, beckoning me with her bony fateful finger. I heeded her call. I got out while the getting was good.

I think courage and bravery are, in many instances, a denial of, or a reaction to, fear. Yellow is both the color of courage and fear, just as the yellow sun represents courage and yellow bellied is a noted term for fear and cowardice. And to say that I felt no fear would be wrong.

But I'm one of those funny people who would rather die on my feet that live on my knees, and I couldn't live knowing that I really wanted to do something and that I was afraid to do it. Better to do it and die that to want to and pine away.

The old guard dies but never surrenders.

As Nikos Kazantzakis says in his prologue to "Report to Greco," addressing his mythological grandfather, El Greco, who was also from Iraklion, Crete, "Grandfather, when I have completed the ascent (his allegory for life) and they examine my body, know you well that there shall be no wounds in my back." Both El Greco and Kazantzakis hailed from Crete, an island famous for defiance of tyranny. He also said that there are three kinds of prayers:

(1) "Lord, I am a bow. Draw me lest I rot."

(2) "Lord, I am a bow. Draw me lest I rot, but don't draw me too tight, lest I break.

(3) "Lord, I am a bow. Draw me as you wish and who cares if I break."

I guess that you have gathered which prayer that this Sagittarian archer lives by.

As the Greeks say when they are in their cups, "Spas ta olla!" (Break everything! Who cares about tomorrow? We live for today!)

So while other belly dancers can say that they got their first exposure to Oriental Dance of "haflas" and the like, this belly dancer didn't have such exposure. It was from my teacher, Jamila Salimpour, taking us innocent initiates to the clubs to see the dancers that gave me my first taste of Mediterranean culture, and led me to a life of travel and adventure.

As the oldest child of five, I used to take my brothers and sisters in a wagon ride far from our neighborhood. We had sandwiches for provisions and they had to first swear to secrecy, on pain of death and no future trips.

My parents would have had a heart attack if they knew! We always encountered hostile boys who would challenge us to our right to be in "their" territory.

They would ask, "Where are you going, little girl?"

"Around."

"Yeah, around to your own block."

"Why?"

"Because we say so."

"We don't want to."

"Well, you have to."

"Well, you and what army is going to make us?"

This was when the proverbial commodity always hit the fan. At that point we turned the wagon sideways, where I made the little ones crouch behind it and I had it out with them. It was usually hand to hand, because I could never throw straight. I knew those boys could throw a rock straight, but not if they were physically disabled. Although I never started one, I never lost a physical fight, and I felt as though I must have come from a race of amazons. But when I became fourteen years old, the boys got seriously bigger than the girls and our fights stopped.

I have always believed in names, and my given name is Deanna. Which is Latin for Artemis, Queen of the Amazons, Archer Supreme, and fearless protectoress of women in childbirth, small children, and the helpless. It was thought before I was born that I would be a boy (from various signs that people were able to glean in 1941), my parents were ready to name me David. Even if I had been a boy, I would have grown up to slay Goliath. Maybe courage was "bred in the bone," and proclaimed to be my destiny. I was also very much like the myth of Atalantis, who was thrown away by her father (who wanted a boy) and who was left to die on the hillside and was raised by wolves. She went on to become a fast runner and sure archer. Her fame spread, and her father took her back, but insisted that she marry. She didn't want to marry and said that whoever would become her husband would have to win her in a race. If he won, all well and good, but if he lost, she would kill him.

When I was still young, every boy who was desirous of becoming my boyfriend had to beat me in a fight. None ever did, until I became fourteen.

I think that one of the things nowadays that confounds people is the quest for the "good life." This tends to be true particularly for people living in a western industrialized and computerized society. It is often thought that education, and particularly higher education will provide an instant key to the "good life" which will be rendered unto us by obtaining a "good job." Presumably a "good job" is a well paying job, and one that is respected by society in general.

In the words of Thoreau, "Where is Walden Pond?" "Where is the contemplative life? " "Where is the road less traveled?"

I could go on, but my main point is that being an Oriental Dancer is an exemplary life choice. It gives one an excellent chance to study life as it is, not as we would wish to re-write it to live in a sanitized world. Once you've taken on the dragon of entertainment and "show-biz", academia is rendered more accessible by having lived, much like Miss Gootch said in the play "Auntie Mame."

Phaedra- I told Rhea her name was very beautiful and unique, and asked from where she obtained it.

Rhea- Jamila Salimpour, my dance teacher, gave me the name "Rhea" in 1968. At that time, she was placing particular emphasis on the fact that Oriental Dance evolved from pre-historic, matriarchal times. She explained that goddesses were worshiped in those times. Rhea was the name of an ancient mother goddess. Rhea was the wife of Chronos (father time) and the mother of Zeus. It is instructive to understand that in more ancient times, time itself was not looked at linearly but circularly. Along with patriarchal religion came an understanding of linear time and death. The main reason I have kept the name is that when Jamila gave the name, I immediately became pregnant after seven years of barrenness. I assumed that it was Kismet. In the '60s we were all into living our dreams, and my dance name and the dance itself opened up new dreams for me that previously I had not dared to dream!

My daughters, Piper, (the eldest) and Melinda, (the youngest) have danced since Piper was seven years old (when I first started taking lessons) and Melinda was only two. They were in various performing companies I have directed, and they have traveled with me from the age of seven and fourteen. Melinda's father was with a family circus as well as the San Francisco Mime Troupe and Melinda learned acrobatics, juggling, balancing on the shoulders of people, and other circus acts. She was a regular performer with the circus from an early age and still performs with her step-mother in a travelling circus as a Belly Dancer who is reviled by the early puritans who tried to chase away the "Hootchy-Kootchy" dancers at the Chicago World's Fair. Melinda began dancing with me in my troupe at the age of two and used to dance with me every night at my jobs in family tavernas and tourist tavernas in Athens since the age of nine, under the benign and watchful eyes of the spirits who also watch over the Acropolis. Piper went on long Pullman rides to perform in luxury hotels outside Athens from the age of fifteen. We were always respected and treated very properly.

We were the only trained Oriental Dancers in all of Greece.

The American Belly Dance style has a high emphasis on entertainment and a display of technical virtuosity. The dance is universally well-received and a popular dance anywhere in the world. We were seen by literally millions of tourists. I've had people send me my picture in Russian and Chinese magazines, and African trade journals. I've met people in Montreal that saw me in Khartoum, and people in Barcelona who saw me in Athens.

My children have also danced Greek folk dances in costume with a local performing group, dancing for the tourists in Plaka. They also formed a duet when Melinda, the youngest, was fifteen, and danced in all the Arabic Middle Eastern night clubs that proliferated at that time due to the unfortunate situation in Lebanon and other war-torn countries. It was a time during which many people were forced to leave their homeland, and many of them came to Greece. Of course, they wanted to hear their music and dance their dances, and always it was difficult to bring a dancer from their country. So my daughters were a perfect act, being two, being professional and having many costume changes. Their special act was seen by many and incorporated into the repertoire of a popular Middle Eastern comedian who put them in his night club act. Big money rolled in, as well as television contracts and movie parts.

This money went towards financing education at universities for them. They began by paying themselves and later were able to apply for scholarships, proving that beauty, brains, good character, and Oriental Dance can go very well together. Melinda now has a Doctorate Degree in Medieval French Literature and Piper is about to take her Doctorate Degree in Human Genetics from John Hopkins University.

The pursuit of higher education forced them to abandon their dance careers for awhile, but they are now beginning to perform again and to teach. I am proud to say that they are much better than I am or was, although for my time, I certainly was among the front runners. One good thing that both my daughters believe that they have received from their unusual careers, is the ability to deal with just about any situation and some of the more rarified creatures one encounters in the academic world.

Phaedra- I found Rhea's dance career fascinating and asked her when she began to dance.

Rhea- My dance background started unfolding at an early age but developed very slowly. I used to try to walk on my toes and consistently fell on my nose. As I am the oldest child of five children, brought up without a large cash flow, there was no extra money for dance lessons! However, I was able to participate in community dance programs where we children did "creative dance." I always wanted to play the role of the snake, which I discovered is my Chinese horoscope (1941). I used to organize circuses in which I made all the games, tickets, drinks, etc. and dance for the neighborhood children. When we had family gatherings, we children were always trotted out to recite poems, sing, dance and perform small plays. I was always chosen to do whatever dance there was at school plays, and when we studied American Indians in the second grade, I was the only child who could do step-hop, step-hop, throw my head up and down, while covering my mouth with my hand to give what was considered in those politically incorrect times, an "Indian War Whoop," all at the same time. Although I always won rock and roll contests, and generally enjoy any kind of dance, if I hadn't met Jamila, I never would have considered a professional dance career, let alone a professional Belly Dance career!

I learned about Jamila through the student newspaper at the University of California, Berkeley campus where I was a secretary, trying to save money to continue my education.

At that time Jamila was calling this dance, belly dancing, with particular emphasis on the fact that the belly movements symbolize childbirth (and I defy anyone to deny this or to prove otherwise). That's what I also call it, although as far as I'm concerned, you can call it whatever you like as long as you dance.

"Dah rose by any other name would smell as sweet." Gertrude Stein.

Of course, if you dance it well, so much the better. In my more mature age, I have learned not to care so much about this, and to let life take of itself, and for me to take care of myself. If some dancers are rewarded by life or society whom I don't consider the very best proponents, well, God is great, as the Muslims and the Greeks say, and who am I to say anything contrary?

I should point out that I had planned for myself a career as a psychologist, or something in the field of psychology or psychotherapy. When we were students during the sixties, we used to participate in anti-war demonstrations, sit-ins and general societal insurrection. My second ex-husband's band, the "Cleanliness and Godliness Skiffle Band," used to be the warm up band for Joan Baez concerts, and any other anti-war performer. Before he went on to be back-up guitar player in Joe Macdonald's group, "Country Joe and the Fish," I used to dance with them as a pregnant belly dancer, and was delighted that I chose to do this at that time.

Suffice it to say that I was arrested and put in jail for on offence that today would not be considered a felony. However, in those troubled times was viewed as very frightening to society in general, and I was prohibited from ever becoming a teacher, a psychologist, etc.

Today, this judicial record has been expunged, but I have always been grateful that this unfortunate thing happened, even though it meant the loss of my oldest child for two years, and many other things whose pain has fortunately been ameliorated with the years. I have also come to believe that God is great and has a plan for everyone, and that we must try to realize by the outcome of things how to look at the whole and to not moan and groan about what might have been.

So my main introduction to the dance and major inspiration, one might even say mentor, was Jamila. I have often said that if I had first been introduced to the dance by anyone else, even my own self, I would have not have been drawn to it. She had that quality that made you want to emulate and follow her. I had never met anyone like her before or since. That she lived her life as she did, and had born a child after the age of forty, was unheard about and something that I had never encountered.

I started dancing professionally in San Francisco in 1969, three weeks after Melinda was born, and one month short of closing one year of lessons. Jamila told me that I had talent and introduced me to night clubs. As hippies, we did a lot of "be-ins" and "sit-ins" and social gatherings, but these were usually day time activities. I had never been in a night club in my life, except when we went after high school graduation to the requisite night club and sat in the special seats where you don't drink alcohol. There was a circuit of clubs on Broadway and every dancer tried to perform as many nights as possible in one or another of them.

The goal was to be one of the weekend dancers, as the best dancers had the weekends and the most week nights as well. Some girls consistently prowled the extended circuit, going to New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Detroit, and Canada. Other dancers remained loyal to one club or another. Since I had kids, I tried to be a weekend dancer and teach during the week.

My teacher had a large and faithful following and was a major presence in the existing dance community. I saw that it was the only way to create and practice dance, while remaining economically viable. A following meant that when the boss wanted to replace me with a young luscious curvy cutie, people would complain and threaten not to come anymore. I had eight years of constant growth and change. I was constantly trying to be innovative and stay ahead of the main herd.

What exhilaration! What fun! Oh, never-to-be-seen-again days!

Texto original: http://www.gildedserpent.com/articles5/rheaintervbyphaedra.htm

RETROSPECTIVA 2014 - parte 1

108 por Carine Würch - Semana 31

Aproveitando o final deste ano gregoriano, embalada pelas milhares de imagens nos noticiários sobre que aconteceu no ano, pensei: que tal fazermos algo dentro do Pilares do Tribal?

Assim, podemos perceber como foi produtivo nosso ano de 2014 no Pilares do tribal, com tantas descobertas, e novos ares (pelo menos pra mim!).

Não é simples correr atrás de conteúdo, quase que diariamente, em outra língua, e muitas vezes tão disperso, mas foi uma aventura ótima, e esperamos que vocês possam ter crescido, e aumentado seu conhecimento, para que possamos passar adiante com mais certeza e embasamento as informações sobre isto que amamos tanto: a Dança Tribal. 

RETROSPECTIVA 2014:

JUNHO - falamos praticamente de Jamila & Bal Ana, um pouco do início de tudo. 

01ª Semana | 02ª Semana | 03ª Semana | 04ª Semana | 

JULHO - também nos dedicamos a falar de Jamila & Bal Anat, construindo a base da nossa História dentro da Dança Tribal. Muitas reflexões e descobertas. 

05ª Semana | 06ª Semana | 07ª Semana | 08ª Semana | 09ª Semana |

AGOSTO - observamos que muitas alunas de Jamila também criaram seus próprios métodos de ensino, tendo reconhecimento dentro e fora dos EUA. E optamos por contar e relatar fatos destas pessoas que tiveram Jamila como base, e o quanto isto influenciou em suas carreiras e também nas suas trupes e alunas. Aida al Adawi, Mish Mish & Rhea. 

10ª Semana | 11ª Semana | 12ª Semana | 13ª Semana |

151 - ATASH

151 por Carine Würch - SEMANA 24

Falando de pessoas expoentes, líderes, assim como falando de nós, pessoas comuns, sempre percebemos que haverá os dois lados da moeda, as duas versões, os dois (ou mais) pontos de vista.

Trazer estes pontos para o Pilares, engrandece o trabalho, afinal, estamos falando de humanos. Falhos, com erros, acertos, dúvidas. Mostra a história por todos os lados, e não apenas um romance bonito, uma história pintada e bordada com nossas moedas e assuits (rsrsrsrs). O diálogo e a diferentes perspectivas nos fazem crescer, e nos fazem pensar!

Quem está a frente, normalmente precisa dar uma direção, e isto custa, pois não agrada, e nunca agradará a todos. Desde que a pessoa se mantenha verdadeira aos seus princípios e verdades, seja honesta, sem a necessidade de "passar a perna" em ninguém, nunca isto será ruim.

Deixo mais um texto para nossa reflexão, seguindo o que começamos com Selwa.

Texto de Sadira para o Gilded Serpent

Comecei a estudar Dança do Ventre em 1972, logo nos primórdios de sua existência aqui na área da Baía de San Francisco. Havia apenas um grupo que era considerado "O Único" grupo de dança, dançarinos, ou instrutores, que tinham qualquer fundamentação no cenário da dança do Oriente Médio. Se você não pertencia a esse grupo, era como fosse um exilado! Era como uma guerra real, às vezes. Para mim, uma cena estranha. Como uma jovem de 17 anos, vinha com o "Peace and Love Generation", onde todos deveriam trabalhar juntos.

Eu não tinha experiência com as intrigas políticas do mundo da arte, nem com as crueldades que os artistas que se opunham, usavam como justificativa, em nome  "Da Dança"!

Muitos bailarinos sentem, como eu, que Jamila Salimpour e sua Trupe "Bal Anat" merecem grande respeito e homenagem, dada a enorme influência que tiveram sobre bailarinos e estilos de dança na área da Baía de San Francisco durante esse tempo. No entanto, havia um lado muito escuro para o cenário da dança. Se você não dançasse e estudasse com Jamila, ou com um de seus professores designados, você era considerado um rejeitado, muitas vezes, propositadamente, esnobado e, por vezes, eram feitos esforços para sabotar sua dança ou shows.

de faeorain - deviantart

Jamila era considerada por muitos locais, como a grande matriarca da dança. Me lembra a Alta Sacerdotisa no Tarot, exceto por ela parecer uma versão Kali mais sinistra e mais dark.

Isso, é claro, era porque eu não era um membro de seu grupo, estava ligada aos "Os Outros". 

Nunca tive o privilégio de conhecer ou ver o lado benevolente de sua presença, nem era alguém que eu conhecia naquela época. 

Jamila sempre pareceu maior que a vida, seja no palco do Renaissance Faire ou no palco do  Casbah Cabaret, presidindo suas noites de estudantes ou "festivais da lua". Ela parecia uma presença imponente, com as penas escuras de avestruz que adornavam seu enfeite de cabelo. 

Tudo o que se podia ver era seu rosto bonito, branco, com seus olhos escuros, delineados de Kohl e suas tatuagens falsas. No entanto, havia os olhos... perfurando, comandando, condenando e exalando energia. Você sabia que você tinha que estar na presença de uma Deusa, pois aquela energia, para muitos bailarinos, os consumia.

A maioria dos dançarinos no Casbah eram de sua comitiva, e eles eram os dançarinos mais incríveis que eu já tinha visto. 

O Renaissance Faire... quando os sons dos mizmars e zornas tocavam ao longo dos recintos, éramos puxados, hipnotizados, para a apresentação que acontecia.

Embora Jamila agora admita publicamente, que a maior parte de sua dança era invenção, e apenas em parte, real, isso não foi reconhecido nos primeiros tempos na Bay Area Belly Dance.

Esta era a única verdadeira maneira... de dançar, de vestir... caso contrário, seu trabalho era considerado inútil, ou não-autêntico.

Vendo tudo a partir da perspectiva de quase trinta anos de dança, agora vejo a ironia que muitos dançarinos começaram a reinventar o "Estilo Tribal" em "American Tribal Style", e me lembro daqueles dias de volta na década de 70, quando o étnico estilizado era a única maneira de "verdadeira" de dançar. Agora, vestidos de Assiut com moedas estão de volta em grande estilo, vs. pérolas, pulseiras, e brilhantes tecidos transparentes. Muitos dos novos bailarinos de hoje não têm idéia das origens da dança dos anos 70, quando aquele olhar era o único "aceito". A História se repete... Eu lamento a morte da verdadeira individualidade e criatividade que levou tanto tempo para desenvolver entre os dançarinos americanos. Ainda há muitos que se destacam, por exemplo, Suhaila Salimpour, filha de Jamila, que está abrindo novos caminhos e dança sua própria dança.

Eu tive a infeliz experiência (aos olhos de dinastia a Salimpour), de ter aulas de dança de uma professora, Atash, que foi banida do Bal Anat Troupe, por se atrever a ensinar, sem a aprovação de Jamila. Jamila tinha que dar sua aprovação a qualquer professor que estivesse afiliado a sua instrução.

Se ela não anunciasse que você podia dar aulas sob sua orientação, e você saísse por conta própria... você, com certeza, se toRnaria um dos "os outros"!

Atash tinha sido uma dançarina de espada do Bal Anat Troupe. Ela tinha começado a ensinar antes Jamila dar-lhe sua bênção. Assim, ela e todos os que vieram depois dela, foram fortemente controladas na comunidade de dança e foram levados a acreditar que eramos ignorados. Infelizmente, toda a política de "esfaquear pelas costas" tornou-se demais para minha professora, e ela se aposentou depois de apenas alguns anos de ensino.

Etnia (étnico) era o estilo, e tudo mais era quase impensável! Sutiãs e cintos de moedas, saias listradas pesadas e véus, dois pares de saias circulares e pantalonas, juntamente com vários cachecóis e autênticas jóias Afghani e turcomanas. Esta era a única maneira correta de se vestir para a dança. Eu acreditava que se você usasse alguma coisa diferente do que este tipo de figurino, você não era uma "dançarina real".

Esta disparidade entre o estilo étnico e o estilo cabaret ccontinuaram por muitos anos, até que os vídeos e músicas do Egito nos mostraram Nagua Fuoad e Sohair Zaki, num estilo muito cabaret.

Estudei com muitas professoras, principalmente aquelas que têm sido extraordinárias por o seu próprio talento e autenticidade, com os vários estilos de dança entre Egito, África do Norte, Arábia Saudita, Pérsia ou da Arménia.

Minha mais próxima e influente professora foi Rhea. A vi pela primeira vez dançando com sua trupe no Naji Baba Television Show. Depois de assistir Rhea na televisão, eu ansiava por copiar seu estilo de dança vigoroso e enérgico. A conheci, tornei me aluna, amiga e membro de sua trupe "Nara Nata", por um longo período.

O restante do artigo está traduzido aqui.

FONTE:

http://www.gildedserpent.com/articles14/retrosadira.htm

** Tradução Livre - Carine Würch **

PILARES - JAMILA SALIMPOUR

Siga o painel PILARES - JAMILA SALIMPOUR de Nossa Tribo & no Pinterest.

228 - RHEA {vídeo}

228 Carine Würch - SEMANA 13

Seguem alguns vídeos de Rhea, sua trupe, e também das suas filhas Piper e Melinda - Daughters of Rhea.

Maravilhoso ver vídeos de 2004 (Rhea com 60 e poucos anos) mostrando uma habilidade incrível e domínio corporal. Algumas vezes chamada de Rhea of Atheans | Atenas ou Rhea of Greece.

Elas são realmente uma grande inspiração!

229 - RHEA

229 por Carine Würch - SEMANA 13

Ladrões. Tiros. Falta de Segurança. Roubo. Falta de Policiamento.

Falando do Brasil? Não, na verdade contando os motivos pelos quais Rhea decidiu deixar seu país para morar na Grécia. 

O que faz uma pessoa deixar sua pátria, seus amigos, seu convívio e sua história para uma experiência em outro país?

Nossa hippie bellydancer chegou num encruzilhada. Com o aumento da violência em Los Angeles, o publico noturno da cidade diminuiu as saídas, diminuindo o trabalhos nos clubes. Ela já estava com 35 anos e decidiu mudar a vida completamente! A história de como tudo isto aconteceu está numa entrevista, que postaremos em breve no Nossa Tribo & Nossa Dança.

E o seu nome???

Jamila Salimpour, minha professora de dança, me deu o nome de "Rhea" em 1968. Naquela época, ela estava colocando particular ênfase no fato de que a Dança Oriental evoluiu desde a pré-história, tempos matriarcais. Ela explicou que as deusas eram adorados naqueles tempos. Rhea era o nome de uma antiga deusa-mãe. Rhea era a esposa de Chronos (O Pai do Tempo) e mãe de Zeus. É instrutivo entender que em tempos mais antigos, o próprio tempo não foi encarado de forma linear, mas circular. Junto com a religião patriarcal veio uma compreensão do tempo linear e da morte. 

A principal razão de eu ter mantido o nome é que quando Jamila me deu o nome, eu imediatamente após, fiquei grávida após sete anos de esterilidade. Eu achava que era Kismet. Nos anos 60, estávamos todos em vivendo os nossos sonhos, e meu nome na dança e a dança em si, abriu novos sonhos para mim que antes eu não tinha ousado sonhar! 

Minhas filhas, Piper, (a mais velha) e Melinda, dançam desde que Piper tinha sete anos (quando comecei a ter aulas) e Melinda tinha apenas dois anos. 

Elas fizeram parte de várias companhias de dança que eu dirigidas, e elas viajaram comigo a partir da idade de sete até quatorze anos. O pai de Melinda estava com um circo familiar, San Francisco Mime Troupe e Melinda aprendeu acrobacia, malabarismo, equilibrar-se sobre os ombros de pessoas e outros atos de circo. 

Ela era uma performer regular com o circo desde muito cedo e ainda se apresenta com sua madrasta em um circo itinerante como dançarina do ventre, que foram insultadas pelos primeiros puritanos que tentaram afugentar os bailarinos "Hootchy-Kootchy" (apelativas) no Chicago World's Fair. 

Melinda começou a dançar comigo na minha trupe com a idade de dois anos e costumava dançar comigo todas as noites nos trabalhos em tavernas de família e tavernas turísticas em Atenas desde os nove anos, sob os olhos atentos e benignos e dos espíritos que também assistem sobre a Acrópole.

Piper passou a atuar em hotéis de luxo fora de Atenas, com apenas quinze anos de idade. Nós sempre fomos respeitadas e tratadas muito bem. 

Nós éramos as únicas dançarinas orientais treinadas em toda a Grécia.

Texto 1 

http://www.gildedserpent.com/articles12/rhearecountspt2.htm

Texto 2 http://www.gildedserpent.com/articles5/rheaintervbyphaedra.htm
** Traduções livre de Carine Würch **

230 - RHEA

230 por Maria Carvalho - SEMANA 13

"O Universo conspira para nos ajudar, tornando mais fácil para começar em nosso caminho destinado na vida. As tapas, estilingues e flechas veem mais tarde, depois de termos sido seduzidas e abandonadas."

Semana terminando e eu já com saudade de Rhea, mas ainda temos uns dias para aprender com ela, então hoje trarei uma passagem muito interessante do seu batismo na dança. Bem, em 1968, mais precisamente outubro, Rhea iniciava sua aulas com Jamila e logo imediatamente, em setembro de 1969, três meses após dar luz a sua filha Melina, ela subia ao palco em sua estreia.

Este primeiro show ocorreu na Taverna Athena em Jack London Square, Oakland, California e neste dia coincidiu com a noite de danças folclóricas, .... o chefe, Manolis Glimidakis, que era de Hania, Creta, viria perto do palco com os braços cruzados sobre o peito e via o show como um falcão, apoiando as costas contra um pilar grego. Foi só depois de anos que Rhea descobriu o verdadeiro motivo de seu interesse intenso. Houve um rumor (que era a verdade) que ela não raspava as axilas. No entanto, como ela tinha cabelos longos que voavam, aderindo a várias partes do corpo encharcado de suor, era difícil distinguir o cabelo debaixo dos braços de todos os outros cabelos. Anos depois, quando se mudou para Grécia em 1977, Rhea descobriria que mesmo se um grego ouve algo de alguém, eles ainda tem que ver por si mesmos.

E então, três semanas após o seu primeiro show, Jamila a enviava para outro show em Fresno, Califórnia, onde o chefe era um armênio, e não foi tão reservado como Manolis. 

Depois do primeiro show de três contratados, ele foi ao camarim. 

Disse, rindo, incrédulo: "Meus clientes me disseram que você não raspa debaixo de seus braços." 

Ele ficou lá, obviamente esperando por negação para que pudessem  rir juntos. O que não aconteceu! A incompreensão impregnava seu rosto. "Mas por quê?", ele perguntava estupefato, Rhea menciona que podia sentir ele pensando consigo mesmo: "Talvez uma alergia?" Seu rosto tornou-se apenas mais perplexo quando Rhea começou a expandir o manifesto hippie de naturalidade em todas as coisas, ele a interrompeu com quatro palavras: "eu vou pegar uma navalha".

Essa passagem da vida de Rhea é muito divertida, afinal quantas de nós subimos ao palco certas de estarmos sendo observadas pelo conjunto da obra, mas os olhos de toda plateia, ou parte dela, se pega em um detalhe fora do lugar? Não é fácil estar no holofote!!!

Neste mesmo artigo, ela comenta a relação de Jamila e suas alunas. Miss J ensinava, e bem, suas alunas a dançar, mas a arte de se encaixar ou não nos clubes noturnos da época era uma tarefa pessoal de cada um, a frase que Rhea usou para ilustrar foi: "fomos jogadas na água, tanto para afundar como para nadar".

É isso, por hoje. Vamo que vamo

Xeros e mais xeros.

232 - RHEA

232 por Maria Carvalho - SEMANA 13

Rhea - a mãe de Zeus e a Vida que nos ajoelha diante das intempéries, mas não quebra quem somos!

Quando escuto o nome de uma bailarina é natural a curiosidade, afinal do que se trata? Sempre fico muiiito intrigada nos motivos daquela escolha, não tive a oportunidade de confirmar com Rhea (o farei), mas me parece que o nome vem da Deusa Grega, mãe de Zeus, ao menos é a interpretação que se faz prima facie (hoje tou gastando meu latim).

Breve conhecimento de mitologia:  deusa de origem pré-helênica, associada à cultura cretense. Filha de Urano (céu) e Gaia, o casal primordial, sendo por isso uma das Titãs, mãe de todos os deuses de primeira grandeza, entre eles Hades, Hera, Posseidon e Zeus. Era chamada de Mãe dos Deuses, relacionada com a fertilidade e nas cerimônias dos cultos e crenças religiosas.

Lendo, pesquisando e descobrindo sobre Rhea, me deparo com uma entrevista na qual ela fala de sua ida pra Grécia e patati-patata, ela menciona que é uma "daquelas pessoas engraçadas que preferem morrer de pé que viver de joelhos, e eu não poderia viver sabendo que eu realmente queria fazer algo e que eu estava com medo de fazê-lo. Melhor fazê-lo e morrer que querer e definhar."

Fiquei fritando os miolos com essa frase e a cena do jornalista assassinado pelo Estado Islâmico, pronto viajei o que que uma coisa tem com outra? Bem, as vezes de joelhos estamos numa dignidade e demonstração de coragem que nenhuma postura ereta pode superar, foi o que me passou James Foley, momentos antes de sua morte... precisava fazer essa referência e nos deixar meditando, afinal o objetivo é pensar.... pensa, pensamento!

Observo em todas pessoas que se destacam entre seus pares um composto que se repete, a necessidade de superação. Parece uma constante, um incomodo, uma pedrinha na sapatilha que nunca se move, então é natural estar sempre buscando, buscando... buscando. Cada um lutando por aquilo que muito deseja, ou ao menos que pensa desejar, e quando acontece de conseguir ou comemora ou elege outra meta e segue na busca do inalcançável. Bem, Barbara Grant, uma das alunas de Rhea e onde pude ler a mencionada entrevista confidenciava suas impressões sobre a dança e sobre a professora, sobre o povo grego e suas paixões e eis que novamente um comentário me fez parar. Dizia ela que estava muito intimidada em dançar para os gregos, mas observou que eles não eram suscetíveis a criticar a técnica, a luz brilhava em outra direção, rumo a paixão e o coração. Contudo, Rhea lecionava enfatizando postura, atitude e formação de linhas corporais. Já penso que conseguir a harmonia entre as dois, técnica e paixão, é nosso maior desafio!!!

O aprendizado que levo nas leituras de hoje e os acontecimentos do nosso dia-a-dia é que Jamila, Mish Mish, Rhea... e tantos outros de quem ainda falaremos são pessoas incomodadas com a mesmice, o comum, o mediano. Alguns pagam com a vida, em pé ou ajoelhado...a caminhada é fo-di-da para todos nós, mas como se encara o seu algoz(um sádico fundamentalista ou uma bailarina de nariz torcido pro seu trabalho) é a brutal diferença que nos distingue. 

Vamo que vamo...xeros!