Al-Kindi Ensemble with Sheikh Habboush & the Whirling Dervishes of Aleppo
Arabesque Festival - Arts of the Arab World
Eisenhower Theater
The John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts
Washington, DC
February 27, 2009
by George Jackson
copyright 2009 by George Jackson
Aleppo - where trade routes once crossed, thrived and vanished,
where traditions endure not just for centuries
or mere millennia but eons unending -
that city sent to America's capital
12 of its best sons, a mission of men only,
to entertain and to entrance a new public.
1 envoy played the flute,
another 1 tapped drums,
there were 2 to pluck strings,
3 were dressed for turning,
while 5 fine-voiced ones sang.
The music was plaintive,
spicy and sometimes sweet.
The intonation was -
argumentative, declarative, narrative, meditative
or celebratory and jolly. And then the dancing began.
Prior to lining up across the the lip of the stage, the trio of dancers bowed, with arms crossed over the chest, inclining first to their colleagues and then to the house. They wore, prominently, tall tan tubular caps and long voluminous white skirts. With the men's turning motion, the skirts flared out, the rotation and ripples of the cloth giving, perhaps, clues to what the legs were doing. The skirt of the dancer in the center of the row of three - the lead man, apparently - almost touched the floor; one hardly saw his feet at all and then it was as a flash within a white cloud. The side men's skirts were a bit shorter, showing more of the footwork.
The turning had started at a moderate pace, one foot - the left, I think - stepping over the supporting other. It was a staccato action at first that became faster and smoother as it continued. Soon the three figures, from chimney caps to ballooning skirts, looked like tops spinning in place. Port de bras varied. Sometimes the arms were half raised, with the elbows bent up and the fingers, too, pointing up. Or, the arms were folded back so that the fingers touched the shoulders. In still other positions, the arms were rounded and fully raised or were held closely folded in-front. Was the supporting leg's hidden knee being bent and straightened? Perhaps that made the skirts' initially smooth and symmetrical rotation acquire a bit of scalloping and tilt. Heads were held upright for quite a while. The dancers did not appear to focus on one static spot to keep from becoming dizzy. Instead, they closed their eyes and let the head sink to the right, almost resting it on the raised shoulder. At this point in their dance, the whirling dervishes looked like they were in a sweet trance - a state that lingered and yet hadn't the feeling of spending time. For the coda of each set, the turning sped up to whirlwind velocity. When the dancers stopped suddenly, their skirts did not. They continued to wind neatly around the lower torso and legs, folding up like flowers shutting tight after sunset.
There was much interaction among the performers on stage. It reminded me of jam sessions in the jazz domain. Select collaborations, challenges and exchanges seemed to be going on. One string player (on a qanun or board zither) and the flautist (on a ney or reed flute) swapped rhythms. The lead singer (Sheikh Habboush) engaged in banter with the grouped voices. Also involved were the lead percussionist (on drum or on riqq - a tambourine with cymbals) and the other string player (on the 'ud, or Arab lute). On occasion, everyone not soloing would sway, clap their hands or slap their knees as a chorus. This session with the whirling dervishes and their allied musicians wasn't as exclusively religious as others have been. Aleppo's artists appear to enjoy arguing with, making statements for, telling tales to, meditating about and celebrating not only God, but also themselves and the world.