Dance or Die

Dubai

The following is an excerpt from Fire In The Belly, a memoir by Zaina Brown. I've known Zaina for more than ten years now. We go back to Yosry Sharif in NYC. :) She amazed me then and she amazes now. Her dancing, her integrity, her adventurous spirit, and now, this brain child of hers about her travels as a foreign dancer across the Middle East and Africa. Simply put, you NEED to buy her book. It'll give you a good hard look into what it means to be a dancer in the Arab world.

Access Fire in the Belly on Facebook or on Instagram. 

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“I will put you in the program for April. But, you will need a tan, a small injection of silicon in your lips, and you should gain four kilograms. Then you will have just the right look for a bellydancer!” Salim exclaimed from the driver’s seat.

“Okay, Salim. Just for you, I’ll get a spray tan. But I don’t think I should gain four kilos!” I didn’t bother explaining that injecting silicon into the lips was a terrible idea. Hyaluronic acid, however, could be arranged. A temporary tint was no problem, either, but it would have to be a spray tan. I knew from experience that self-tanners from a bottle made your hands bright orange and your skin smell like rotisserie chicken. Going on a heavy diet to gain weight was a ludicrous gamble, though. Club-goers in Dubai were all too quick to call a bellydancer fat.

(Un)famous

‘Do I look like a faggot to you?’ This was Mohamed El-Sobky’s response when I nudged him to the dance floor to avoid entertaining him in the back corner of the club. Mohamed El-Sobky. Butcher turned movie mogul. The man most credited with the demise of wholesome Egyptian culture. ‘Any man who dances is a faggot,’ he elaborated. Well then, the voice in my head said. I’ll just have to dance with those ‘faggots’ over there while you down your whiskey wondering how this belly dancer snubbed you. YOU, Pharaoh of Egyptian cinema, who could make me famous overnight. You expect me to fall at your feet, but I won’t. I’m going to treat you the way I would any other drunken meat hacker – with caution and disgust.

This was how I met El-Sobky. For years I had dreamed of meeting this person, this… ‘legend.’ But Egyptians in the entertainment business advised me against it. ‘Ma balaash,’ they would say. ‘Don’t do it. He’ll make you famous, but not without having you for dinner. When he’s done with you he’ll throw you to the dogs like an old bone as he looks for the next piece of meat. Are you OK with that?’ 

Naked Navel

I wrote this last year while I was still in Cairo. I did not want to publish it at the time, for obvious reasons. A slightly different version of it was published on worldofdancers.com.

It had been a while since my last run-in with the authorities. Three or four years. I was starting to feel invincible. Many foreign dancers had recently spent nights in police departments​, and one had been deported. Yet here I was dancing all over town, completely unmolested by the notorious (and quite useless) belly dance police. AKA mosanafaat, and shortat il-adaab, which translates as morals/principles/behavior police. Their job is to crash weddings and turn up unexpectedly at night clubs to fine and arrest belly dancers for infractions such as dancing without a license. Or, in the case of a 'licensed foreigner' such as myself, for dancing at any venue other than the one she’s contracted with. They can also arrest us for inappropriate costuming, i.e. a two-piece bedla without shorts or a stomach covering (shabaka). Basically, they are government funded party poopers, authorized by the ‘Democratic’ Arab Republic of Egypt to stop us mid-performance and take us to the nearest police precinct, if need be. 

I’m convinced the only reason such a thing exists is so the government can employ more bureaucrats. And why not? It’s a win-win situation. The government makes money from fines and jail terms, and the bureaucrats get a monthly salary in addition to the bribes they collect from managers seeking to keep dancers out of jail. Additionally, they get to fool themselves into believing they are good Muslims even though they allow belly dancing, cuz shabaka. 

Thoughts on China

These are some of my reflections on China (or rather, Beijing) after spending ten days there. I present this not as the truth, but as my truth, based on my observations there.

1. The air quality wasn't nearly as bad as everyone said it would be. Then again, I may not be the best judge of this, considering I lived in Cairo for ten years and rarely got sick. Apparently, I thrive in toxic environments...

2. It's obvious that whatever western colonialism happened there had minimal impact on the country. Language, culture, and behavior are mostly uninfluenced by western norms. English is not very widespread. Those who speak English are mainly younger and a bit difficult to understand. Those who do not speak aren’t even familiar with basics like yes, no, toilet, hotel, and other English words are pretty standard around the world. Not even the names for basic technology. Chinese has a word for everything. This makes it difficult for non Chinese-speaking tourists to navigate, but it's also beautifully refreshing to see an ancient culture very much intact… even if you come across an occasional McDonald's, Pizza Hut, or KFC.