Be the Light of the Party

What was your most memorable candlelit dinner experience ever?

Was it a romantic evening with your partner at a haute cuisine restaurant in Paris? Perhaps a homemade gourmet supper in the comfort of your own home? Or maybe wine and charcuterie in a cozy Alpine chalet with a breathtaking mountain view?

I’ve had my fair share of candlelit dinners to reminisce about, but the most memorable of them all was when the underground power lines downtown burned out, leaving my building without electricity for five days. Fun times!

Ah, candles… A source of light, warmth and comfort. We celebrate birthdays with them atop cakes; we mourn losses by clutching them in our hands.

Although real flame candles have largely been replaced by LED flameless alternatives, they remain a common decorative element around the world. Put a few of them on a pretty tray, and voilà—you’re an interior designer!

But wait, there’s more! Where do you put the pretty tray? Well, on your head, obviously. Balance it carefully, walk around a little, wave your arms. Dim the lights and gracefully make your way to the nearest mirror. Pose, smile, and admire your balancing skills.

Isn’t there a special kind of dance magic when you’re balancing a flaming (okay, flameless—I admit it) prop on your head? I am of the sword-balancing variety, but even I have caught myself mesmerized by the flickering lights reflecting off the shiny metal props of many a dancer on YouTube.

The majority of candle balancing videos feature dancers with candelabra of various sizes on their heads rather than trays, but the viewer experience is the same—it’s pure enjoyment!

It wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination to assume that it all started with candles on a tray and then progressed to tabletop candelabra. However, there simply isn’t enough historical evidence to definitively say what came first. And after all, does it really matter?

There is an abundance of written accounts describing prop-balancing acts performed by traditional Egyptian entertainers, dating back to the 18th century—and perhaps even earlier. Some of these accounts mention lit candles being used during performances. Interestingly, there are also records of Upper Egypt’s ghawazi performing impressive balancing acts as part of their repertoire. However, modern-day ghawazi of Upper Egypt deny that such acts were ever part of their style.

Since balancing acts were purely meant to wow the audience, they often incorporated floorwork. Kneeling, doing splits, lying on the floor, and rolling are just a few of the known acrobatic feats of traditional floorwork. And all of that while balancing a lit candle—or multiple candles! Considering the amount of flammable materials around, the venue owners must’ve had the nerves of steel to watch such tricks without keeping the fire department on speed dial. Oh, how anachronistic of me!

Raqs Shamadan or Raqset al-Shamadan (candelabrum dance or the dance of the candelabrum, however you prefer to say it) seems to have emerged as a fusion of the artistry, grace, and ingenuity of the awalem and the ghawazi in late 19th- to early 20th-century Egypt.

The earliest photographic evidence of raqs shamadan that we currently have comes from Figaro Illustré, depicting a dancer from the 1900 Exposition Universelle in Paris, France. Here is the link to the publication (#124, July 1900).The image in question is on page 144, but if you’re balance-curious like me, do yourself a favour and start on page 142. Note the three different balancing props! Then, go back to page 144 and admire not only the dancer with the shamadan but also the one balancing a chair in her teeth.

As the dance traditions of the awalem and the ghawazi morphed into what came to be known as raqs sharqi, the candelabrum dance became a popular act in the entertainment halls of the early 20th century. The rising popularity of raqs shamadan also led to the development of a special base for the candelabra: a plain tabletop base was replaced with a specially crafted helmet of sorts.

Here is a clip of Zouba al-Klobatiyya in the 1946 film Five Pounds. Notice the base of her custom-made shamadan and the slight tilt of her candelabrum while she dances. This is not unique to this particular film—Zouba appears to perform with her impressive dance prop slightly tilted in other video recordings.

And here’s an even earlier film, My Daughter (1944), where the fabulous Nabawiyya Moustafa makes an appearance with a simple-base shamadan. It’s a shame she hands it off so quickly!

In keeping with the tradition of Golden Era filmmakers, the 1966 film Single (or Bachelor) Husband does not credit the dancer appearing in this clip, so her name remains unknown. Nonetheless, her plain-base shamadan balancing skills are to be admired!

No list of dancers famous for their shamadan-balancing performances would be complete without the one and only Nazla El Adel. I highly recommend watching the 1991 documentary Die Königin der Mohammed-Ali-Strasse | Queen of Muhammed Ali Street in full (don’t forget to turn on English subtitles if your Arabic or German are rusty or non-existent), but if you’re strapped for time, I suggest starting from this point at the very least. What a magnificent beast of a candelabrum she balances with such mastery! No wonder it has a helmet-like base. 

Okay, so far, we’ve seen the awalem and the Golden Era Raqset Al-Shamadan stylizations represented—but what about theatrical folklore? Glad you asked!

Since the Reda Troupe left no stone unturned when it came to popular dances of Egypt, a definitive theatrical stylization of the candelabrum dance is evident in this clip. Notice the downplayed hip and pelvic work. Here is a version by the National Troupe. These two performances share some striking similarities: the use of big stage space, dynamic blocking, the incorporation of flowing or billowing fabrics for dramatic effect, and lacklustre or completely absent floorwork. Even though this censorship-approved style would hardly be recognized by turn-of-the-century traditional entertainers, it is a feast for the eyes. 

According to multiple sources, including Morocco herself, when floorwork in belly dance was banned in Egypt around the 1950s, it was still allowed in raqs shamadan performances since it is considered “folklore”—a designation that gave the candelabrum dance somewhat of a protected status. In light of this, it is puzzling why Mahmoud Reda, the visionary behind the eponymous dance troupe, did not include more elaborate floorwork in his version of the dance.

The popularity of dancing with a shamadan seems to have declined since the mid-20th century and the establishment of The Ministry of Culture. You can read my take on the censorship of certain aspects of raqs sharqi here and here. Could it be that the dance of the candelabrum does not lend itself well to the sanitization and neutering required for government approval?

Moreover, the disappearance of the awalem tradition from the very fabric of Egyptian society has left belly dance neophytes wondering what is—and what isn’t—Raqset al-Shamadan.

It seems modern-day shamadan dances follow one of two general paths: one has a more theatrical presence and is best suited to a big stage and large groups, while the other appears to draw its inspiration from pre-raqs sharqi traditions and seeks to evoke the awalem or the ghawazi spirit of performance. Choose wisely since the path you take depends on many factors, such as the venue, audience preferences, your personal style, and more. 

Like everything else in belly dance, Raqset al-Shamadan is a living, ever-evolving subgenre of traditional Egyptian arts. Thus, combining innovation with genuine respect for the roots of this dance will go a long way.

Well, Dorothy, it’s been quite a ride—spanning over a century! It is time to wrap up my ramblings.

"But wait, Auntie! You didn’t mention the lamp on the head, or the zaffat, or who that very first person was—the one we’re so eager to credit with 'inventing' the candelabrum dance!" you say. 

Oh, darling, you bring to the table my favourite concoction—facts, assertions, and mythology, all swirled into one! Since the topics you mentioned require an excruciating level of diligence I do not currently possess, I shall set them aside until next time. Perhaps another 'Myth of the Month' post is in order.

However, how quaint of me it would be to leave you without a titillating teaser on these subjects! Make a mental note of the name Shafiqa Al-Qibtiyya and watch the magnificent Tahiya Carioca perform the role of Shafiqa on a theatrical stage.

There is much to dissect in this video from the historical perspective so I am leaving it for another day. Nonetheless, note two things: Tahiya’s shamadan has a glitzy chin strap, and she drops a finger cymbal almost at the end of her performance. The cymbal is picked up by one of the actors and handed back to her with a little playful gesture—it’s very cute and fits the atmosphere. 

Here is a more modern performance inspired by Shafiqa Al-Qibtiya and her legacy. Read the description: this is a tribute piece meant to evoke the spirit of the dance, rather than an attempt at historical reenactment. Shining is the one to follow if you are into more historically accurate styles. More of her dancing with a shamadan.  

This concludes my brief overview of raqs shamadan, or the candelabrum dance, and its history. There remains much to be said about this art form, and even more requires extensive research.

So, are you up for Part 2 on the subject of shamadan? Get in touch and let me know! askauntiehelen@gmail.com