It's a Wrap

Good things come to those who wait!

After years of persistently (and perhaps a tad annoyingly) requesting a Melaya Leff class, my wish was finally granted! A much-beloved local instructor, with decades of teaching experience, agreed to lead an introductory five-week course on dancing with the Melaya Leff this term. To say I'm delighted would be an understatement!

Since my love language is sharing every morsel of relevant information on the subject with the world, consider this your seatbelt reminder, Dorothy—because we're about to take a ride down the rabbit hole!

The melaya leff is, first and foremost, a recognizable element of traditional Egyptian attire, holding the esteemed status of being part of the country's cultural dress. 

According to Farida Fahmy, the popularity of the melaya leff as a garment peaked between the mid-1920s and the 1960s. If you're unfamiliar with Farida Fahmy, I highly recommend exploring the history of the Reda Troupe. A great starting point is Madame Fahmy's recent book, Farida: A Memoir. 

In this short video, Farida Fahmy briefly explains how the dance involving a traditional modesty garment originated and its significance at the time. She also explicitly states that this dance was created by the Reda Troupe and should not be considered traditional or folkloric. 

Here you have it—from one of the founding members of the most influential dance troupes in modern Egyptian history: the dance with the melaya is a recent invention, despite what some dance instructors might tell you. 

While it's debated whether Mahmoud Reda's work marked the first use of the melaya leff as a dance prop, our focus here is on the impact his original creation had within the belly dance sphere. 

Perhaps you've heard of 'Eskandarani' or Alexandrian dance? Over time, the term 'Eskandarani' became synonymous with dancing with the melaya leff, as it was assumed that the woman wrapped in the shawl hailed from Alexandria. Given that Alexandria is a bustling port city with a significant fishing industry, the dance's reputation became entangled in a net of frivolous assumptions—some even suggesting it depicted flirtatious fisherwomen reeling in sailors.

In her 2014 article, Farida Fahmy expresses her bewilderment at such developments, noting that the original idea of the dance was rooted in deep respect for the melaya leff itself and for the women who wore it.

Tarnished reputation aside, the original skit from the Reda Troupe's tableau portrayed a woman from Cairo's old neighborhoods. At the time of its creation, Mahmoud Reda had not yet embarked on his extensive research into Egypt's regional dances. Instead, he drew inspiration from the everyday scenes of his youth—specifically, the bint al-balad (literally, 'daughter of the home land'), the spirited and street-savvy women of Old Cairo. In essence, before Reda ventured into the diverse dance traditions of Egypt, he choreographed what he knew best: the lively ladies of his own backyard.  

In this interview with Shira, Mahmoud Reda offers a vivid account of the playful skit “El Erkesous” he crafted to capture the essence of the bint al-balad. While his early works often embraced comedic elements, in this particular tableau, it's the syrup vendor who ends up in a sticky situation. 

Most likely, we'll never know how something so innocuous and family-friendly evolved into a dance that some perceive as representing sex workers from a fishing port.

As I've mentioned numerous times before, the level of 'sexiness' a dancer chooses to convey during their performance depends on various factors, including personal preferences, stage setting, and audience expectations. 

It's important to remember that dancing with the melaya leff is a theatrical creation and not a traditional Egyptian folk dance. However, the melaya leff itself is a garment with a long history and a respected cultural significance that should be honored when presented on stage. But hey, you do you! 

While interpretations of the melaya leff dance can vary—from sultry renditions to more modest, censorship-approved versions—there are several key elements that consistently define this theatrical performance:

1. The Melaya Leff itself. Various sizes of wraps are available, so find what works best for you. The fabric can range from silk to jersey. Remember, the shawl is meant to conceal, so opt for a heavier material. Shiny paillettes are a modern addition, but melayas adorned with paillettes are the most commonly available type these days.

2. Bint Al-Balad persona. Regardless of the level of sensuality portrayed, this dance consistently embodies a well-recognized character: the bint al-balad. She's smart, savvy, dependable, and loyal—the quintessential "girl next door" from the working-class neighborhoods of Egypt, whether in Alexandria or Cairo. Conveying this persona through choreography and body language is what makes dancing with the melaya leff stand out.

3. Costuming. A colourful (or at least contrasting to the wrap) short-sleeved, fitted dress that falls just below the knee has become the staple attire for dancing with the melaya leff. Variations abound, so choose what YOUR bint al-balad character would wear. The mandil, a headscarf often adorned with pom-poms and silk flowers, is a traditional accessory that adds a folkloric touch to the costume. The shib-shib, or slip-on shoes, are commonly worn, but going barefoot is also acceptable, especially if dancing in heels is a step too far.

4. Playfulness and Flirtation. There's an unmistakable coquettish charm to this dance. The bint al-balad character is confident and savvy—she knows what she wants and isn't afraid to show it. Yet, she remains feminine and endearing. Her wrap clings tightly, subtly revealing her curves, while her uncovered arm moves gracefully, ever ready to adjust the melaya leff as it teases slipping away. This dance is flirtatious but never frivolous—a playful wink rather than a bold proposition. 

5. Music. The original production of the Melaya Leff dance by the Reda Troupe featured music specifically composed for the performance by the troupe’s chief composer, Ali Ismail. Further productions included music by other contemporary composers. Since the dance isn’t traditional, there is no traditional music associated with it. This absence provides dancers with creative liberty in music selection. Choosing a baladi composition that complements the dance's theatrical nature and facilitates the playful portrayal of the “daughter of the home land” character is advisable.

A few other characteristics that, in my opinion, do not define this dance but are worth mentioning:

1. Face Veil. Despite its name sounding similar to the full-body covering known worldwide, the burqu or bur’a is a partial niqab. It extends from the bridge of the nose down to the chest. You can read more about face coverings throughout Egyptian history here. However, the face covering worn by the esteemed Farida Fahmy in this famous photo was specifically designed to be see-through, allowing her facial expressions to remain clearly visible. The inclusion of the face veil in Melaya Leff performances adds a layer of authenticity and pays homage to the traditional attire of Egyptian women. It complements the modesty implied by the melaya while allowing for the expressive storytelling that characterizes the dance. Thus, the veil serves as both a cultural artifact and a functional costume element, enhancing the overall impact of the performance. Ultimately, incorporating the face veil into a Melaya Leff performance is a personal choice, unless you're aiming to recreate a specific time period or replicate a particular performance.

2. Solo or Group Performance. The original theatrical skit, choreographed by Mahmoud Reda for the Reda Troupe, featured a solo female dancer interacting with a male character—played by Reda himself—portraying Erkesous, the licorice syrup vendor. This comedic tableau captured everyday life in Old Cairo, highlighting the spirited bint al-balad character. As the Reda Troupe's repertoire expanded, subsequent iterations of the Melaya Leff incorporated multiple dancers, each adorned with their own melayas. This evolution allowed for more dynamic staging and enriched the portrayal of urban Egyptian women's lives.

3. “Tefresh lo el melaya”. In Egyptian culture, the saying "tefresh lo el melaya" refers to a woman so enraged that she casts her melaya to the ground, freeing her hands to gesture emphatically—or perhaps to engage in a more direct confrontation. This expression was humorously depicted in the aforementioned "El Erkesous" by the Reda Troupe, where the female character, after being splashed with syrup by a vendor, dramatically discards her melaya in a comedic display of indignation. So, if you're planning to replicate a specific performance, remember: when the melaya hits the floor, it's not just a wardrobe malfunction—it's a theatrical declaration of "I've had enough!"

4. Chewing gum. Yes, chewing gum has been incorporated into Melaya Leff choreography to "enhance the character's sassiness" and "add a layer of flirtatiousness and modernity to the character." Nadia Hamdi, for instance, was known for her playful portrayal, which included pretend gum-chewing. However, Mahmoud Reda and Farida Fahmy considered gum-chewing during performances to be vulgar, akin to spitting, and believed that someone who respects the melaya as a modesty garment would avoid such behavior. At the end of the day, you do you!

I hope this unexpected tumble down yet another rabbit hole—something I'm exceptionally skilled at discovering—has added a touch of theatrical folklore to your understanding of what we affectionately call raqs sharqi. Consider it a whimsical stroll through history, with a few hip shimmies and a dramatic veil toss or two.

Please allow me one more friendly reminder though.

I know I might sound like a broken record (or perhaps a well-worn zill), but let me shamelessly repeat myself: blending innovation with genuine respect for the roots of any belly dance subgenre is a recipe for success. Think of it as adding your own spice to a classic dish—delicious, as long as you honor the original flavor. 

When portraying cultural heritage that isn't your own, mindfulness is key.

I’d like to leave you with one of my favourite modern renditions of the Melaya Leff by the wonderful Amanda Rose. 

Have a thought to share? Get in touch: askauntiehelen@gmail.com