​We have been seeing dance since ancient times and still today it is the same as it was, no influence, no evidence of progress or reformation. And our preference for dancers is still measured by the dancer’s natural beauty in her face or body, then by her skill in moving her waist, shaking her chest and bending and twisting in a spontaneous and anomalous way.

In the entertainment hall [sala] for example, you can watch ten dancers appear on the stage hardly feeling any difference between one of them and the other, except in the shape of the face and difference of posture, and the costumes they wear. This dress is gold and this dress is silver and this dress is considered new–she chose a color other than these two which have become the well-established and and long-standing custom. And the tune of the music a dancer dances on is nearly the same as the tune played for another and each dancer follows the previous and you see nothing but echos and are immersed in its repetition.

Nabaweya Mustafa is a lesser-remembered but still prominently featured dancer of the Egyptian cinematic golden era (appearing in over 45 films between 1935 - 1955), whose background, training and life story has remained largely unknown.

With new information supporting her position as a well known and popular artist raised by the almah Ms. Anisa el Masreya in the traditions of Mohammed Ali Street entertainers, we can start to examine what skills and talents their work together entailed.

According to current findings (as of Sept 2023), the first publications to appear, which mention Anisa el Masreya (aka Anous), her ensemble and her “sister” Nabaweya follow the 1932 Arabic Music Conference (مؤتمر الموسيقى العربيه فى القاهرة). It appears Anous was invited with her ensemble to participate at the conference in Cairo to represent the traditional kinds of music sung by Awalim for weddings and other important ceremonies such as the metahir (circumcision), a few recordings of which are available digitally:

​I have yet to see anything that specifically lists each member of Anous’s ensemble and their duties, but it's implied by her presence in the publications which followed the conference that Nabaweya was likely singing if not also playing something like a frame drum.

​We see in the above musician's review, some details about their program at the conference such as the use of popular [shaabi] melodies set to the Wahda rhythm which we heard earlier in "Metaher ya Oud Oronfil". A few years later we get just a handful more details to embellish our understanding of the shows these artists gave.

​These two clippings appear in the same issue of Al Sabah Magazine, a few months following the below review of their performance from a private family event in Mansoura, solidifying our understanding that Nabaweya was indeed performing raqs sharqi at weddings and other high society celebrations before and concurrent with her work in cinema, alongside Anous and her ensemble of musicians and vocalists. The promotional photo of Nabaweya used here also coincides with other featurettes which mentioned dances she prepared such as "The Peacock" and " Star Soliloquy" but not where she performs them (whether they were made for film, casino/sala shows, or otherwise was unidentified), suggesting these dances were created specifically for the parties where she and Anous entertained.

Also presented at these events was a careful selection of "serious music" and tarab-inducing songs. Could this include the "higher education" repertoire typically played by male musicians of the time as mentioned by Frederic Legrange? The ad below specifically mentions the creation of interesting and innovative monologues, a rising form at this period [which was developing as a comedic and often political genre.]

Certainly, as wedding entertainers, "light music" such as vocal taqtuqa or instrumental dance melodies were present, but I remain curious about what other musical forms were presented by their (often mixed-gender) ensemble, and what percentage of each show was allocated to which kinds of vocal or instrumental pieces. 

​After exposure to these tiny new pieces of information, I am seeing with a different eye, Sabah in the 1946 film عدو المرأة [Aeduun al Mar’a’] ("Enemy of Women"), imagining Anous in her place with all her ensemble around her while Nabaweya dances for the guests, and rewatching 1945 أحلاهم [Ahlahum] ("The Sweetest") where Nabaweya is depicted dancing and singing to the bride and her guests, wondering if indeed it is her voice and how accurate a representation it is of her real life work.

aAs we dig further back into Nabaweya's start in film it seems more and more likely she sang as well as danced, even if that's not what she became famous for. In at least one featurette on the new star from the film Maruf Al Badawi (1935) we are promised to see her in this leading role using all her skills of singing, dancing and acting! Unfortunately this film has been difficult to track down in order to see it for myself, so I'll have to wait to make a comparison to the scene in Ahlahum ("The Sweetest") about whether this could actually be Nabaweya’s voice or a dubbed in singer.

As for Ms. Anisa el-Masreya, she apparently was rumored to have a small appearance in Maruf al Badawi as well but whether as a singer or actress is currently unclear, and there is no explicit information to indicate she was ever a dancer, her title remains throughout "Almeh", with seldom more specific addendums such as Mutriba ("Singer"). Although the information on these artists and the specifics of their work is still so limited, this collection of magazine clippings serves to widen our understanding of what awalim shows looked like throughout the mid 20th century, and help us be observant of where true-to-life crossovers occur in Egyptian cinema, in addition to adding more color and roundedness to Nabaweya and Anous’s personal stories.

Special thanks to George Sawa, Mari M., Ahmed Elsemallawi for assistance with translations as well as musical and cultural points in the texts. 
Other References:

• ​Congrès de musique arabe du Caire (The Cairo congress of arab music) - 1932 [BNF 01 CD-01-18] (2015): https://archive.org/details/13.PsaumeDeLaTristesse
• 1932 Arabic Music Conference Discography (18.Discography; 36.Concordance): https://bajakhana.com.au/congres-de-musique-arabe-du-caire-1932-discography/
• "Les Almees" by Frederic Legrange: https://www.amar-foundation.org/les-almees-frederic-lagrange/
  

THE EPHEMERAL THEATER AT THE EXHIBITION
THE EGYPTIAN THEATRE
​
It is at the Trocadero {location in Paris}, in the freshness of the leaves, in front of the majestic portico of a pink and gray temple adorned with vague hieroglyphic and the outstretched wings of the sacred hawk, old Arab musicians, whose long, skinny bodies, are lost in black gandouras with straight folds, including a flap of dirty wool that embraces shaved temples and forehead, plays some sort of arrhythmic and obsessive pastoral {rural music with droning bass}.

…Their worn out, gloomy desires make one think of slow caravans in the sandy solitudes towards the Holy Cities that we sometimes despair of never reaching, of anxious nights in the midst of the herds. Their cracked cheeks swell like little wineskins. Their knotty, disproportionate fingers run over the [head?] of the darbouka, strike with sharp and rhythmic strokes the shiny skin of a sort of timpani {kettledrum} shaped like a squash.

And this monotonous, nasal, shrill call, which dominates the great rumbling of the fair of the world twists your ears, deafens you, attracts you, as much as a gesture of hypnosis pushes you towards the counters where you take the tickets, much more than the sales pitch of [an empty-handed beggar.] 

And in turn, in full voice, in the frantic tumult of reed flutes, violas with hoarse cords, tambourines with plaintive and serious vibrations, these vacant characters chant heralding verses, call to each other, answer each other, barely stirring, with something priestly, as if they were preluding, according to very ancient rites, to a festive ceremony.

Here are the many dances.

Light, spry {leaping?} movements of laughing adolescents who obey the cadenced signs of their master, pirouette, whirl, twirl, seem to be practicing a game of graces; giddy juggling ; simulating relentless combat where swords hurl sudden lightning, fall furiously on shields like a hammer on an anvil, seek and release each other, slice the air with violent blows, like scythes in the swell of corn; convulsive movements of the hips and belly [aired in painful sadness?], with the passivity of slaves who submit to the accustomed drudgery, weary and withered.

Then suddenly, among the clapping of the hands, the hooting cries, a nightmare symphony which squeaks, which sobs, which hisses, which no longer has anything humane, which strains your nerves to the breaking point, step by step, advance three women of Khordofan {Sudanese province}[…adorned with fetishes, a silver ring riveted to the nostrils…tall and black as ebony…]the girls do not articulate a word. They don't utter a cry. They slide rather than walk, swelling their necks, erecting their heavy breasts, swaying their inert heads right and left.
They look like pythons called, enchanted by a charmer, which unwind and stand on their scaly tails, in bliss, who hardly have any expression in their tarnished gold eyes; one imagines being far from it all, in the crypt of some thousand-year-old hypogeum {underground tomb}, in the midst of spectral {eerie-translucent} larvae and slimy reptiles, one is cold to the soul as on the edge of an abyss of darkness.

But the vision of terror vanished.

Love songs erupt, resonating in distressed echoes on all lips and on all instruments.

She suggests by the vibrations of her hips and her torso the illusion of a sea which calms down and where long and slow waves follow one another, die on the sand of the beaches, of wings which swell and pulsate. She seems to tremble and vibrate like the strings of a harp under frantic fingers.

She dances for the pleasure of dancing.

She lies down in the hollow of a large sofa, her eyelids half-closed, her arms folded behind the neck, amuses herself by making the crystal glasses that have been placed on her stomach move with spasms, to strike them in cadence against each other as skillfully as small fragile bells which would ring an aubade {dawn serenade}. She dashes and swings, retaining in her heavy stryge {mythical monster} jaw as in an iron vice some table or some chair, and waving lighted candles with both hands, the wax of which flows in yellow tears. Provocative, shameless, she crouches over a jar full of water, skillfully retracts it into her gauze skirts, begins to sway again, to wave, to vibrate, like a possessed woman who is goading, burning the invisible and deadly embrace of some incubus, finally flees, capers, gallops with a burst of shrill laughter which resembles the lascivious neighbor of a faun in a haunted forest. The drums, the flutes, the viols are embracing, bewildering, imbued with a dreamlike sweetness.

And it seems to me that all these voices of men and women sigh the marvelous and harmonious stanzas of “The Thousand and One Nights” — the supreme book of voluptuousness that Dr. Mardrus resurrected — gemmed like pearls, whispering in turn:

“At the sight of you, my heart itself abandons me to fly towards you, and sleep itself flees from my eyes, leaving me to my tortures! O my heart, very well! Since you are already at her house, stay where you are! I abandon you to her, although you are what is most dear to me and most necessary! And if I spent all my life, after looking at her even once in the face, without the happiness of a second look, it would make me rich forever!”

"Avoid the magician's gaze of her eyes, for no one has escaped the circle of that orbit. Black eyes are terrible when they are languid. For black, languid eyes cross hearts like the shining steel of slender swords. And above all do not listen to the sweetness of her language, because like a fiery wine, she ferments the reason of the wisest. To know her! She has such sweet looks! And a silken brow! To touch the velvet of it, one would eternalize that softness. To hope for it is sweeter to me than to the heart of the condemned, the hope of salvation! "

"0 warrior skilled in the battle of roses, the delicate blood of the trophies that fringe your triumphal forehead, tinting your dark hair crimson; and the birthplace of all these flowers bows down to kiss your child's feet! So sweet, o princess, your supernatural body that the charmed air becomes aromatic upon touching it; and if the curious breeze penetrated under your tunic it would linger there forever. So beautiful, your slim waist, oh houri {maiden of paradise}, that the necklace on your bare throat complains of not being your belt! But your fine legs where ankles are encircled by the bells, make the bracelets on your wrists creak with envy!”

“O bright body where the twigs have put their suppleness and the jasmines their bouquet {aroma}, what body would your scent be worth? Eyes where the diamond has shed its light and the night its stars, which eyes would equal your fire? Kiss with her mouth sweeter than honey, what kiss would reach your freshness? Oh! Caress your hair and tremble with all my flesh on your flesh, then see in your eyes the stars rise!”

Hitherto motionless, collected as on the threshold of a mosque in the dreary torpidity of some late summer day when the sky seems a sheet of fire, the people move, stir, form in procession. The arms are intertwined with the arms. The faces are radiant with joy. The living chain undulates like a garland of roses and myrtles under impetuous gusts of wind. Violent men drag it along and guide it, strike the ground with a free foot, loudly proclaiming a long hymn of thanksgiving and hope, with an increasing intoxication. The women, upon stops and interruptions, shout a sort of frenzied hallelujah.

And we think of very ancient times, of solemn evenings of deliverance and victory, of sacred dances around the Holy Ark, when the people chosen by Yaweh fled the cities of exile, hurried to the Promised Land.

And, a few steps away from this stopover in the past, here are the gardens of Japan, the flesh-colored peonies, twilight hydrangeas, night-blue water irises, dwarf cedars like children's toys, green velvet lawns, where indifferent blackbirds hopping and hissing; here is the Ceylon {now called Sri Lanka} pavilion, the tables scattered among the trees where pretty women in bright dresses, in flowered hats, savor, with somewhat languid poses, the delicious tea served to them by alert little barmaids, in white caps and aprons, Cynghalais {people of Ceylon} with gazelle eyes, hair held back by a tortoiseshell comb, shining bronze, in the corner that Parisiennes adopted for their "six to seven", for flirtatious dates and for the unexpected...
~~~