Postcards from Marrakesh - 2

To:

Ya Raqs
Grande Bretagne




It is quite difficult to pick just one highlight from our trip, particularly when there were so many, but the one that I think will stay with me the longest is the workshop we had with the Berber women. What amazing women they were, particular the main dancer. We had seen them both dancing in the Palais Chahramane restaurant the night before when they had pulled us all up to dance with them. The main dancer was only in her late 30s and yet she had been through so much in her life all in pursuit of her love of dance. What she shared with us on the morning of the workshop was so much more than just her knowledge of Berber dance, and her skill as a dancer – it was part of herself. Despite being divorced by her husband, who disapproved of her dance, and shunned not only by her family but by her entire village, she was determined to do what she does best – dance. It is very difficult for us in the western world to appreciate the stigma that is attached to this dance that we do, but all of a sudden it was very real when we heard this woman’s story. It wasn’t as if she was exposing any part of her body; dancing in a nightclub in a skimpy two-piece costume, or flirting with members of the audience – she was just a folk dancer, but that was enough!

Through a mixture of Berber, Arabic and French she was able to show, and explain, a range of Berber dance moves – all of which were very different to the Egyptian style we are used to. Despite the language barrier we managed to communicate the great warmth and pleasure that we all shared in the dance – there was a lot of laughter. Half way through the class we took a break and were told about the Mawaal – we didn’t understand the words, but the passion and the emotion that came pouring out as she sang needed no explanation – we were all moved to tears; it was incredible.

The workshop ended with the chance to buy her own Berber dance costume. I agonised for a very long time but decided that this was a chance of a lifetime. These were real Berber dancers with a real story to tell. Every coin on the hip belt had been lovingly sewn on by the dancer herself. What I was buying was not just a costume, but a piece of living history. The cynics among you may say, “Oh it was just a sale, that she was after”, but no it was so much more than that. When I agreed to take the costume she hugged me to the point where I thought she would crack my ribs and despite the fact there was no common language between us, we were able to communicate our mutual appreciation, understanding and love of the dance and all that it meant to each other. What an incredibly emotional moment – I didn’t think it was possible to top it, but she did. Just as we were about to leave she came up to me and held out her hands – she was holding the head-dress that went with the costume – the only word she said to me was “gift”.

It may sound dramatic to say it, but I truly believe that this was not just a highlight of our Moroccan trip, but for me a highlight of my dance career so far. We were lucky enough to meet many amazing women during our time in Morocco but this particular Berber dancer is in a class all her own. I don’t know if we will ever meet again but I would like to think that our paths will cross again some day.

Meroe


Meroe and Berber dancers at the restaurant

Dance workshop - the dancer singing the Mawaal