Morocco has been performing and teaching in the US and worldwide for 50 years and she is still going strong, with her raucous humor and razor sharp wit. After a long day of teaching two choreographies, Morocco then returned an hour later in full glorious attire to delight us with two performances which included Raqs Aseyya and Oriental, and of course her masterful zagat playing.

Thank you Za-Beth for all your organizing work and Happy Birthday to Morocco and Freddie!

You are great inspirations to all of us who love this dance and the rich heritage from which it has evolved.Similar Posts:

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• Belly Dance: Celebrating the Sacred Feminine: Book Review

Book Review:
By Khadija (Katrina Valenzuela) 9/21/08
Belly Dance – Celebrating the Sacred Feminine

By Martha Elena Burns

Foreword by 
Christiane Northrup, MD
Published 2009

If you are searching for the perfect gift for your favorite dancer, photographer or just a special treat for yourself, stop right there!  This big, lush book is a delight to the senses, a magical journey of breathtaking beauty that will leave you in tears.
The moment I held the book and gazed at the cover, I was mesmerized and transported.  Two hundred and twelve pages glorious pages later; I reluctantly came back to reality.
The beautiful foreword by well known MD and writer, Christiane Northrup leads us into a touching preface from author/photographer Martha Elena Burns describing her personal experiences with the dance.  
Exquisite quotes from Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Alice Walker, Jean Shinoda Bolen and Jalaja Bonheim weave their way through photographs filled with motion, spirit and energy.  Thick vellum overlays slowly reveal shimmering images, like veils being lifted into the secret, sacred world of the dancer. Not instructional, it is instead nourishment for the dancer’s soul.

If you are a practical dancer who does not give much credence to the Divine Feminine, The Goddess, I guarantee you will feel Her awesome presence here.  You may even begin to radiate your own inner Goddess with pride once you realize that as a woman and as a dancer, you are a part of Her great mystery.
From innocent young girl to new mother, to older wise woman, all stages of our lives as women are represented here with dignity, and reverence.  
While you will recognize many dancers that you know and love, the artistic scope of ‘Belly Dance; Celebrating the Sacred Feminine’ is much broader and deeper than personalities.

This book is obviously an act of love, ten years in the making, and is not just for dancers.  Anyone with a passion for art, beauty, color, design, and spectacular photography will be inspired and uplifted. 
This is a book to be savored slowly, kept in a special place and revisited often.
I was allowed to review the galley copy, but the completed, hard cover, gold-foiled version can be ordered now at a prepublication discount through www.BellyDanceBook.Net.Similar Posts:

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Search for the Zar

In this excerpt from a soon-to-be published book by Katrina Valenzuela (Khadija), we learn about the Zar, an Egyptian ritual performed to appease spirits (the Jinn) and relieve the stresses of life.

Khadija describes her first clandestine experience in a Zar ceremony, arranged after considerable searching and effort, as the secret ritual is illegal in Egypt.  She is accompanied by her friend Mostafa, who had initially discouraged her determination to participate.

The story begins as they meet a tall, gaunt figure under a bridge, who guides them to a private home where the Zar takes place.

The mysterious stranger greets us in solemn monosyllables and we follow him in silence over unpaved roads, dodging muddy trenches and stray dogs, through the poorest section of Old Cairo to a small stucco house. My clothes are mud – spattered and dusty, but the sound of drumming and the wafting myrrh and frankincense cause my heart to leap with anticipation. A woman answers the door and takes us in with her wide dark eyes, assessing us in a suspicious manner as she adjusts her hijab in a modest gesture, covering the front of her hair. After extensive, huddled discussion among the group, the mood shifts entirely and we are suddenly welcomed in and embraced.  We are told we are the first newcomers to the group in years and so they were uneasy.

Because I speak Arabic, the women consider me one of their own; they become overprotective and feel free to ask direct questions about my marital status and personal life, which I answer as briefly as possible. “Yes, Mostafa and I are only friends. No, I am not presently married or engaged. No, my father does not know where I am.” Shaking their heads in astonishment, their eyes reveal both envy and disapproval. Still, I am taken under their wing with motherly concern and I feel completely safe.

Bathed in candle light, the living room of the small house is a sea of movement, heads swaying, eyes flickering in ecstatic trance, each lost in their own inner world.  Women who are more inhibited drape large black cotton scarves over their heads and their swaying creates a mysterious silhouette. The power of the experience overcomes me within moments and I join in, allowing the rhythm to move my body. Mostafa takes a doumbek and joins the small group of men on percussion, whose task is to keep the ayoub rhythm flowing unbroken for the duration of the ceremony.

There are no steps to learn, only to surrender to the hypnotic repetition of drums and chanting. Once inside the experience, I am beyond all thinking or self-consciousness and move in a way that is deeply familiar, instinctual, and primal.  To move from a trance state is as easy as breathing and I lose myself completely in the experience.

Suddenly a large, middle aged woman in a long, flower print dress drops to the floor writhing and shaking, the sheikha loudly calling out incantations to the Jinn that possesses her. Others rush to surround her while continuing their movements around the convulsing woman. They are entirely unperturbed by the situation as they offer support and a circle of safely for whatever she needs to go through.

The Jinn is finally appeased and the frenzied expression subsides. It is obvious that some part of the Zar experience is an outlet for the repressed lives of very poor women, a chance to act out some of the frustrations and anger at conditions that never change through generations. This is a powerful sisterhood of support and I am fortunate to have been allowed entry.  When the first muezzin call goes out over the city, all activity suddenly ceases and we silently file out into the hazy early morning, each going their way without a word. I leave Mostafa at Ramses Station to catch his train back to Upper Egypt. “Let’s go again in two weeks; maybe it will cure these headaches I have had for years,” he says. We agree to talk once we have integrated all that occurred in this long and strange night.

Back in Zemalek, I fall into my bed exhausted and dizzy, the hypnotic sound of the drums still echoing in my head as it leads me into a hallucinatory sleep… Suspended in a place between waking and dreaming, I am unable to move and yet so deeply relaxed that it does not frighten me. I am carried on this journey until the mid-morning muezzin intrudes, calling me to full wakefulness. I feel a lightness and joy in spite of my lack of deep sleep, as if a burden has been lifted.  My deep heartache over my recent life changes has dissolved and in its place is a sense of gratitude and rightness about this new phase of my life. Wherever I am led next in this mosaic of adventures, I feel open and prepared for the journey.

Khadija’s book is scheduled for publication in 2009. Khadija lived in Egypt and leads spiritual tours to Egypt and surrounding countries. Visit the website to learn more about her:

http://transformationscenter.com/

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