Keep Dance Alive: How One Woman is Trying To Revive Khaleeji Female Dance Performances
Shareefa Alzayani explains how Khaleeji folkloric performances combine the rich heritage and storytelling culture of the region and why we must preserve it for future generations
Dance and music are universal experiences that bring people together, and the Arabian Gulf peninsula is no different. Khaleeji folkloric performances combine the rich heritage and storytelling culture of the region. The Saudi Ardah – once a valiant display of tribal strength – is now performed during cultural and celebratory events. Inspired by the life and livelihood of pearl divers, the Bahraini, Qatari, and Kuwaiti fidjeri uses poetry, percussions, and rhythmic clapping to narrate tales from the sea. In the Emirati and Omani Al-Ayyala, performers stand in a line and use drums, tambourines, and brass cymbals to reenact a battle scene.
For Shareefa Alzayani, a physical education teacher and disc jockey from Bahrain, sports and dance had always been an important part of her life. Growing up in the archipelago state, she recalls how she used to mimic performances that were broadcast on Bahrain national television during Eid or National Day celebrations.
At school, the dance curriculum was based on ballet, aerobics, conditioning, and a few chapters dedicated to Khaleeji folkloric performances. “We knew the steps by intuition. Everybody knew what to do with this beat or that beat,” explains Shareefa. As she got older, she became interested in physical education and went on to become a PE teacher. “As I started teaching in government schools, I discovered that students didn’t know how to perform and every few years (as the next batch came in), they knew less and less of the art,” she recounts.
Her love for music and dance eventually led her down the path of becoming a DJ. While performing at weddings and private parties, the 40-year-old noticed that her peers and even the younger women, were not dancing.
The realisation that traditional dance performances were dying out bothered Shareefa. While government bodies in their respective states have worked to preserve the art form, even attaining UNESCO-designation, there is little knowledge and documentation in the realm of female performances and dance forms.
Kay Hardy Campbell, a Khaleeji dance and music scholar and author explains that there is more to this particular style of showcase than just dance movements. “It is an all-encompassing performance with the thoub nash’al (a colourful, embroidered cloak), music, lyrics, rhythms, and most importantly, the occasion. Dance is only one element of it.” Kay explains that traditionally, it was common to see men and women performing together because these were familial celebrations held in the diwan (salon) of the house. In the Emirates for example, men and women performed a line dance and in Yemen, there were pair dances.
“When broadcast media arrived in the early ’60s, you had women – particularly in Kuwait – performing in the public sphere,” she says. With the emergence of other forms of entertainment, Khaleeji performances have phased out and become harder to find. “Pop music took over and with the emergence of oil economies, there was an increased focus on education, entering the workforce or raising a family,” she explains.
However, cultural centres like Kuwait’s Higher Institute of Folklore, the Saudi Society for Culture and Folklore, and patrons of art have continued to preserve this heritage by digitizing old audio cassettes or broadcast videos and posting them on YouTube. In an attempt to resurrect a fast-dying heritage, Shareefa started researching and documenting. As there was no record of female dance steps, she started by meeting with older relatives who knew how to dance. “We had beats and the song, but where is the dance?” she asks. “I couldn’t even imagine the movement until I had seen my aunt perform.”
There were other challenges too. Sometimes, she wasn’t sure about the beat or the rhythm because there are so many similarities between dances. Other times, she found it confusing when she stumbled upon the same song, sung by different artists with different rhythms. With a chuckle Shareefa recounts how she also approached men’s dancing troupes who taught her female movements, as they had seen their mothers or grandmothers doing it. Other resources she turned to were old broadcasts and clips available online. The extensive research and field work took nearly two years. Shareefa explains that there are broadly three categories that she slotted her work into – those that have a Bedouin (desert) influence, those that have a coastal lean, and those that have elements coming from other countries.
The al-muradaa was brought to Bahrain by Bedouin tribes; women stand in two opposite rows, hold hands, and take forward-backward steps. Traditionally, unmarried girls showed off this dance when mothers of marriageable sons came to visit. The al-khayl is another Bedouin dance where women move their hands and swing their hair.
On the other hand, al-basta comes from Iraq and is usually practiced by coastal communities along Kuwait, Bahrain, Oman, and Saudi. Thanks to its fast-paced shoulder and head shimmies, Shareefa jokingly calls basta the “Khaleeji Rock ‘n Roll.”
Lastly, dances like al-laywa, where men chant to music while forming a circle and fann at-tanboora, with a drum worn at the waist for percussion, have African and Indian influences. As she started documenting her journey on Instagram – first by posting only her foot movements and gradually, moving on to displaying her full-body – women started approaching Shareefa for private one-on-one classes.
“One of the most highly-requested dance forms is the al-samree – a slow, somewhat sensual, and yet, very shy style of dancing. The lyrics express sadness and longing for the beloved,” she explains. Wearing a thobe and shayla to partially cover her face, Shareefa demonstrates by moving to the beat. First, two sideway steps to the right and two sideways steps to the left. Then, she turns around slowly and repeats the same steps.
“There was still the stigma and shame of not knowing how to dance. And it was a very secretive affair. Someone might want to learn because her only son or daughter is getting married, and she wants to partake in the wedding celebrations,” she points out. In addition to her research and documentation, Shareefa also teaches a diverse group of students – Ukrainian, Indian, and Saudi – at different locations across Bahrain. “They are very curious to hear what the lyrics mean and what certain movements mean. They consider Bahrain their second home and come to learn about the island’s culture,” she says. As Shareefa continues to teach in her native state, she hopes to visit other Gulf countries to research and document their traditional dances.
As an academic who has studied the region’s dance and musical heritage extensively, Kay is very excited to see the potential and reach of Shareefa’s work and hopes that cultural institutions will take note. “Maybe her work will be an example for other parts of the Gulf, and for a way to document, preserve, and pass on this folklore to the next generation of women.”
Photo: Aasiya Jagadeesh
From Harper’s Bazaar Arabia’s June 2022 issue