A dozen beautiful women in colorful, flesh-baring harem costumes swayed and undulated as the appreciative crowd cheered them in Turkish and Arabic. The air was filled with trills of ululation. One richly tattooed woman danced in bare feet on stemmed water glasses. Other beauties swirled around each other gracefully while balancing scimitars on their heads. Yet few of these dancers were Middle Eastern, and this was no Marrakesh den of iniquity. Rather, we were in Olympia's Eagles Ballroom last Saturday night, where the Wanderlust belly dancing troupe presented their second annual solidarity event in support of Thurston County Animal Services and the Thurston County CASA program for foster children.

The true origins of Middle Eastern belly dance, or raqs sharqi ("Oriental dance") in Arabic, have been clouded by time. Egyptian art seems to suggest belly dancers provided sexy entertainment for pharaohs as they have for sultans and sheikhs ever since. Some believe the sinuous belly roll movements originated in birthing rituals; belly dancing has long been associated with feminine fecundity.  Some present-day commentators, uncomfortable with the association with sex and fertility, claim belly dance was invented as a way for women to entertain and socialize with other women. In any event, even modern Middle Eastern belly dancing has been influenced by Western marketing. The bedlah harem wardrobe, for example, is largely a creation of randy Victorian artists, and the costume spread to Cairo in an effort to appeal to English and American tourists.  Now it's the standard style in any Middle Eastern country in which local mores permit the exposure of women's midriffs.

I'd seen belly dancing before, of course - a few songs at a time. I admit to worrying belly dancing would lose its charm over the course of a two-hour program.  I was wrong. As the dancers introduced new types of music ("Bailamos," Crash Test Dummies) and stage properties (swords, scarves, and Karma Shannon's aforementioned glasses), each dance assumed a kind of narrative. Jenny Greenlee's joyous facial expressions revealed the emotional text of each piece.

Still, the audience seemed unsure how to respond, and so was I. Was it proper to cheer or applaud? If so, when? Dancers complimented each other by trilling or squealing "Zaghareet!" Turns out zaghareet is the Arabic plural for ululation, the falsetto "la-la-la!" familiar from every movie ever made about the Middle East.  Other popular cheers include "aiwa" (Arabic for "yes," pronounced "AY-wahh"), "yallah" (Arabic for "let's go"), and the Greek or Turkish "opa!"  Audience members are encouraged to use any of these words or their English equivalents whenever they like.  Hissing is acceptable in Olympia and certain other belly dancing circles; it rewards especially sensual movements, contrary to its usual negative connotation in Western theater.

Olympia is blessed with at least six different belly dancing companies:  Mas Uda, Troupe O-Wa, Troupe Rashaad, Tribal Elements, Wanderlust, and Wild Honey. Subrina Kavitha and Amira Mahaela teach classes in Tacoma.  I'm sorry to say the program this weekend was sparsely attended.  Perhaps my little primer will help. 

Now that we know the difference between a zill (finger cymbal) and a zagharoot, we'll feel more comfortable saying aiwa to this truly hypnotic international art form.