Ägyptens Bauchtänzerinnen im Visier der Moralisten
CAIRO — When undercover police officers in Egypt arrested a Russian belly dancer, the focus of their investigation was her costume.
Was the dancer known as Johara, whose sizzling video had become an overnight sensation, wearing the right “shorts,” as modesty-protecting undergarments are officially called? Or was she wearing no shorts at all? Johara, whose real name is Ekaterina Andreeva, 30, insisted on her innocence, but still the police marched her off to jail. After three days, it seemed she would be deported. But at the last minute, a mysterious white knight intervened and she was sprung from jail.
It was a drama worthy of belly dance, a centuries- old art form that has long thrived on sensual intrigue.
In recent decades, belly dance has inspired conflicting impulses among Egyptians, who see it either as high art, racy entertainment or an excuse for moral grandstanding.
But Ms. Andreeva’s plight also highlighted a rather touchy issue: If Cairo is the global capital of belly dance, then why do its hottest new stars come from everywhere but Egypt? Foreigners have dominated the top flights of Egypt’s belly- dancing scene in recent years — Americans, Britons and Brazilians, but especially Eastern Europeans.
“Coming to Egypt was my dream,” said Alla Kushnir, 33, who appeared on a TV show, “Ukraine’s Got Talent,” with an extravagant belly- dance routine. She moved to Cairo, the Broadway of belly dance, where she became a true star.
The foreigners bring an athletic, high- energy sensibility to the dance, more disco than Arabian Nights. Their sweeping routines contrast with the languid, subtly suggestive style of classic Egyptian stars. Some are overtly sexual. Purists bemoan the foreign invasion as a travesty. They accuse the outsiders of trampling on Arab heritage for profit and pushing the dance form in a brash direction. Even some foreigners agree.
“In many cases, we lack the nuance, subtlety and grace of Egyptians,” said Diana Esposito, an American who came to Egypt in 2008 on a scholarship and stayed to pursue a career in belly dance.
And Egyptian dance still has one undisputed queen. Dina Talaat Sayed has danced for princes, presidents and dictators in a career span- ning four decades. Ms. Sayed knows all about Egyptians’ conflicted attitude about her profession. “Love and hate — it’s always been like this,” she said. “Egyptians cannot have a wedding without a belly dancer. But if one of them marries your brother — oh, my God! That’s a problem.”
The stigma is part of a creeping puritanism that has stifled the arts in Egypt in recent decades. And for many Egyptians, the price of a career in belly dance can be too high.
Randa Kamel, who runs a belly dance school in Cairo that attracts students worldwide, was beaten as a teenager by a father who disapproved of her dancing. Even now, her 17-year- old son hides her profession at his private high school. “That’s why I don’t go on TV,” she said. “I want my son to have a good life.”
Ms. Andreeva still isn’t sure what spurred the police raid in February, but since then, bookings have soared. She admitted that it was hard to match Egyptian dancers on some levels.
But she compensates by channeling the raucous energy of Egyptian audiences. “There’s an emotion here that is incredible,” she said. “It makes me feel like a rock star.”