It's that time of the year again...Troupe Roja will be performing at the 17th Annual Lebanese Festival!

I'm especially excited about this year's performance. After last year's Roja debut at the Lebanese Festival, which included everything from Khaleegy dance to American cabaret to Flamenco-inspired fusion, I am relieved that we will not be fussing with so many costumes this year. (Nothing like frantic costume changes in under two minutes in 90 degree heat backstage while breathless from performing the previous number...) BUT the show will be no less spectacular; Roja will be debuting FIVE choreographies never performed at the Lebanese Festival, two of which are original and have not been performed anywhere yet! 

This year, we focused on the variety within the genre of Middle Eastern music. Our set will include an acapella zill (finger cymbals) number, the classic "Zeina", a fast accordion solo with Isis wings, a Hossam Ramsy drum duet, and a Lebanese pop song fused with Egyptian melaya leff dance and debke. And--I am very excited about this--Roja will have a special guest performing during the set. It will be her very first performance and what a venue to step out into the stage lights!

So, for her (and any other dancers wondering what to bring to an outdoor show in 80 degree weather) here is... 

Zattana's Top 10 List of Lebanese Festival Must-Haves for Performers

1. Costume (duh) that includes top, skirt, harem pants (required for dancing on the raised stage), dance shoes, and belly net cover (required for this show)

2. An adequate cover up/abaya/moo-moo (required for any show). A veil is NOT a cover up!

3. Jewelry (earrings, rings, bracelets, arm bands, and/or necklace) and bindis (if you like to wear them)

4. Makeup (you will need it for touch-ups), fake eyelashes, eyelash adhesive

5. A wash cloth to dab the sweat off your brow backstage between songs

6. A folding fan to use before/after the show and a water bottle (it is HOT, stay hydrated)

7. Safety pins, dress tape, industrial staples, or whatever you need to keep your costume in place

8. Zills and melaya (props of choice for this year's show), CD with music/announcer's notes, troupe sign, and easel

9. Clothes to change into after the show, including shoes and (ahem) under-things

10. (optional) Camera, sunglasses, cash for shopping, snacks, friends, family...

It helps to carry an "emergency kit" for the troupe as well (credit for that fantastic idea goes to Alan Louie) and I always bring it with me to shows when I'm performing with Egyptian Breeze or Roja. But that's a topic for another blog!

I hope you will come out to the Lebanese Festival on August 28th to see Roja's set at 8pm, to support our brave new mystery-dancer, and to see the other fabulous troupes as well. It's going to be a great show!

Groveport’s historic Town Hall is the place, quiet and unassuming on this colorless day, a sentinel on the corner of a cobblestone street in the outskirts of Columbus. Asiya, Nafretiri, and I shuffle in through the labyrinth of halls after the hour-and-a-half drive of self-doubt and nerves, packed like a caravan of camels with our garment bags, makeup boxes, and water bottles. We are to compete in the Troupe category of the Personal Best Middle Eastern Dance competition, hosted by Shakira Al-Fanninah.

 We sign in; they did not have the stage directions Asiya emailed weeks ago. No matter, she fills them out again as I shift uncomfortably beneath my luggage, wishing I didn’t drink half the big jug of water on the way. Ooo, sparklies--The Belly Dance Shoppe is vending again this year, with their gorgeous pro costumes. I tell myself it can wait till after we dance.

Up the steep flight of stairs and into a conference room doubling as our dressing room, we find most of the other contestants are already dressed: we eye the large troupe of tribal chicks, decked out in dark fringe and yarn hair falls, practicing in the back of the room, the trio of Egyptian beauties in their turquoise and sparkling-golden costumes, adjusting their sleeves in front of the full-length mirrors. “We had them made overseas,” one of them tells me of their costumes as I ogle the finery. Withdrawing my own bright orange, wild-striped, hand-made costume, I wonder if we might have gotten ourselves in a little over our heads this time.

The lineup is posted on the wall beside the dressing room door. We are second-to-last, plenty of time to work up a good nervous nausea while we tape ourselves into our beaded bras. Nafretiri snickers at me as I run off to the bathroom for the second time within the span of fifteen minutes. Thankfully, at least, there is no rushing to dress and our costumes are relatively simple in comparison to what we normally wear.

Costumes covered per regulation, fans in hand, we head downstairs to take our seats in the audience. As soon as the curtains part and the first troupe begins—the tribal chicks—the stately quiet of Groveport’s Town Hall is broken with clapping and encouraging whoops from the audience, which is to say, all of the other competing troupes! It feels more like a hafla than a competition! I grin. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The audience’s enthusiasm does not wane through the following numbers and by the time we take the stage, I am ready to bring it! During the five minutes of absolute silence behind the closed curtain, as the judges beyond finish writing their notes on the previous troupe, we twist across the floor, plotting steps, testing the surface frantically, making last-minute costume adjustments. Asiya races off the stage in the last minute before the curtain opens to pop a chlorophyll for her asthma, which had been giving her terrible fits for the past month or so. I huddle with them, hummingbird heart aflutter, mentally connecting myself with the other two and willing that we simply make it through with the best performance we can manage at this moment in time.

“Thirty seconds!” the stage hand hisses to us and we drop swiftly to our opening position, ready for the Shiva, hands in prayer. Asiya’s belt fringe catches on the back wall moulding—a moment of sheer panic! She recovers in an instant and we resume our stance. The curtains slide open to silence. The waiting faces of the judges and audience stare back at us. The music begins.

Nafretiri, with the rush of anticipation that always accompanies a performance, opens her arms a few counts early! No matter, mine follow. I have learned to cue off of the dancer in front of me with these ladies. The three of us synch, rising in unison, and split into the dance. Asiya is next to solo front and center; Nafretiri and I follow her timing. Emote, emote, emote! Watch the turns, balance now! The stage is slippery and raked, no less. Remember your face! These thoughts are screaming in my head over the blaring music from the speakers on stage. The audience begins to respond, clapping to the music. I see smiles and grins. I start to relax.

Halfway through the dance, I take front and center, exposed, feeling raw, and wondering if the other two follow me now as I followed them. I will never see it; we did not consent to being filmed by the videographer. We rejoin together downstage and I know the dance is nearly over. It is just up to me to remember to end our pose behind the path of the curtain, which we have instructed close at the end of our piece. We finish with our sassy Miss Thang pose to the applause of the hall and thankfully, there are no curtain-collisions—I gauged it correctly. The curtains slide closed and we drop character, breathless, relieved, and wary at the same time.

There were mistakes, but that is inevitable. There is never a perfect performance, I tell myself, as we whisper about it backstage. I just hope it was enough to take even third. We settle to watch the final number in the category—an advanced veil and drum solo routine--while receiving whispered compliments from other dancers, fanning ourselves cool again. Just like that, it is over. The judges retire to decide the winners and we turn to the vendors while we wait, distracting ourselves with shiny pretty things.

There was such a diversity within the category; everything from group Tribal Fusion to a trio dancing American Style Cabaret, single and double veil work to a soulful Tribal duet that defied categorization, and our own Turkish pop fusion number. The camaraderie was refreshing. As I reflect on the performances, I am glad I’m not one of the judges.

 I decide to follow Asiya’s cue and try on a professional costume. Just as I untape myself from my beaded bra backstage, I hear Shakira announce that it is time to reveal the winners. EEP! I dress frantically and bustle out to join Nafretiri, right on time. Shakira announces the winners of the Rising Star and Headliner soloist categories, neither of which we saw. The winners are radiant and it makes me wish I had come early to see their performances. Now it is on to the Troupe category.

Third place is…Troupe Rakset Afrabia of Cincinnati, the troupe that performed last in the lineup. I inwardly wince; their veil and drum solo was very involved and I’m surprised they only take third. Well, maybe we can take second…maybe. I mentally cross my fingers. Second place is…Nezmia’s Tribal duet. I feel myself sink into my chair. If we did not take second, I figure there is no way we took first. At least, I tell myself, we will have the invaluable feedback from the judges, which is really the whole reason for subjecting ourselves to the critique of competition, right?

Shakira recites her well-rehearsed speech (I recall it from last year) about how the competition is really about each dancer’s personal best, hence the moniker, and that we all did well in spite of so many injurious set-backs several dancers had suffered. She is so kind. I nod in agreement of her truth and content myself with that praise.

Finally…First place in the Troupe category is…ROJA!! I sit up straight in my chair, exchange a disbelieving glance with Nafretiri, and I think I may have squealed before darting out into the aisle.  I remember skipping in my oversized mumu cover to glomp Shakira and Safia before huddling again with my fellow Roja chicks, exuberant and disbelieving. I hear the applause, but above it, closer to me, Asiya’s voice flutters, “I’m shocked…” I hear Shakira answer her firmly, without hesitation, “You shouldn’t be.” Tears well up in my eyes. We did it! We did it!

After our victory photos onstage with our award, the three of us change into mundane garb, famished now that the anxiety had passed, and it is off to Bob Evans for a celebration dinner before the Gala Show that evening.  We giggle between nomnoms and girlish clucking, elated, slurping smoothies and sharing our food. I am so proud of them—of US—I tell them as much and it almost chokes me up again. I have never felt so close to others performing as I have Nafretiri and Asiya, have never felt such a strong bond of trust and shared creativity. It is truly sacred. It is divine.

The Gala Show that evening is full of wonderful performances from such a variety of dancers. It is entertaining to watch and very relaxed. Shakira opens the show with a jaw-dropping, double veil improvisational routine. Safia follows her with a centered and almost meditative sword solo. I am thrilled to see Aegela again, whose joyful, silly performance style I adored at last year’s Cincinnati Raqs show. Alabina and Zarema’s skirts fly in their Russian Gypsy numbers and I was fascinated with judge Jawhara’s 9/8 Turkish performance.  Manal headlines the show, fabulous as ever—I would swear the girl doesn’t even break a sweat dancing, if I did not see her afterwards in the dressing room, breathless. She makes it look absolutely effortless. After intermission, I finally get to see Thurayya’s cane dance that took 1^st place in Folkloric last year and, I must say, she truly deserved it! Nezmia, reminding me slightly of Laylia, performs a playful solo and soon Roja is up.

We have been invited back to perform the Khaleegy number with which we took 2^nd place in last year’s Folkloric category. Having performed it so many times since, it is a number we can do in our sleep, but it is anything but yawn-inducing! We fondly call it “Khaleegy on speed” and we have a party on stage dancing it. Our enjoyment pays off; after the show, I cannot count the number of compliments we received.

Exhausted finally and ready to retire, we pack up as Asiya makes the last purchase of the night—a stunning, royal-blue-and-gold beaded bedlah, encrusted with Swarovski crystals, and a semi-transparent set of golden Isis wings to match. I joke that she took my place this time—I’m admittedly the shopaholic of the three of us, notorious for buying costumes faster than I can wear them. I cannot wait to see her debut this stunning set at Lebanese Festival this year. She will look like a queen.

At the end of the night, I am reminded why we spend countless hours choreographing, practicing, costuming, stressing for a mere five minutes or so of dance. We do it for the joy of dancing, yes, but perhaps moreso for the camaraderie, the fellowship of women, and the pride we feel after having performed our personal best.  

To Shakira – Thank you for hosting this wonderful event that brings together women from all over Ohio and perhaps beyond to share such talent and beauty.

To the Judges – Thank you for providing the detailed notes that help us to improve ourselves and grow to become even better dancers.

To my Roja Sisters – I simply love you guys. You never cease to amaze me.

"If you take anything away from this workshop, may it be that form is the most important aspect of your dance."

Leila Gamal, master teacher with over 25 year’s experience, is one of the veteran greats of the 2nd "Golden Age" of belly dance in the United States. Aside from being a gracefully commanding performer, she is a treasure trove of knowledge, which she shared with dancers at a workshop covering four decades of Classic Egyptian style at Kira's Oasis in Centerville on July 11th.