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Ever dream of a weekend away in the mountains, the air
just dripping with the sensations of autumn, music and dance, ease and
comfort, all served up with a bounty of flavors to be found in the food, the
drink, the people and the dance? The Keshvar Project has just returned from just such an experience.
A weekend at TribOriginal in North Carolina, a “Tribal Dance,
Music and Culture Camp” conceived and delivered by Onca and her cohorts
in The Mezmer Society and the petticoated and trussed up Baraka Mundi dance
troupe. Oh what a time, it was a time, oh what a time, it was a time….It’s
taken me two + weeks to recover. I apologize, but please read on…
Our large and amazingly pliable troupe (sadly
without Heidi & Michael) headed south from Cincinnati to the mountains of
North Carolina to a fine “truth in advertising” example called “TribOriginal”
, a 4-day beauty of a tribal belly dance “conference” with lessons to be had
and friends to be made. Travel day, October 8 th,
was as miserably wet and cold as it gets around here and the driving was
treacherous. The Keshvar Project had been invited to not only perform, but a
select few were also to be instructors of both dance and music. Honored we
were as well as a bit nervous at the prospect. Our partners this weekend
would include top-notch regional and national members of the Tribal Belly
Dance community, from Atlanta's marvelous
Awalim, Houston's Urban Gypsy,
South Carolina ‘s Natalie Brown
and with a big, juicy cherry to top it off, the sublime and deliberate
Jill Parker from Ultra Gypsy, a founding mother of the sport. We had
better be on our game, it’s not unheard of for a troupe to be shot for a
pitiful showing!
But as I arrived, delivered safety, happily and lovingly by Cheri and
Danielle of fellow Cincinnati dance troupe,
Dante’s Gypsy Circus, I
knew whatever happened we’d be alright. Even at our 2a.m. arrival time the
troupe had already commenced to infusing the camp with a late night
heartbeat of a sound and a cozy welcome. We picked our bunks, stretched our
legs and settled in for the weekend. Soooooooooooooooo good,
Soooooooooooooooo far .
Friday's morning sun gleamed (yes, gleamed) on a
beautiful compound. Nestled in a little holler with a little lake, we were
surrounded by trees with the leaves moving full-on into fall color. No time
to dawdle though, food is a delight of this event and it’s served on-time
and the line forms thick and fast. We were beat by the hard drive but
revitalized by the full-on introduction to what is TribO….The tickling and
teasing of all the senses. And it was only breakfast number one.
Day one we stayed mostly under cover as Camille was
scheduled to teach that afternoon and we were to perform that evening. A
workshop or two may have been attended but I mostly saw wandering, lying
about and the sharing of drink and conversation. With the noted exception of
the Dante crew who we suspect took every workshop possible. This included
not only makeup and performance but belly casting as well (though their flat
little bellies proved to be marginally and pitifully castable). I would have
to talk to them about all this activity, just watching them was wearing me
out and I had to perform in a few hours.
Camille held her class in the afternoon. Would anyone show up? Would they
like it? Well, of course, the class was full and Camille was charming,
informative and technically impressive as usual. The class was both
challenging and achievable as she presented a frizzly-fine choreography to a
song about a man gone coffee crazy....faster and faster and faster and
faster faster
faster!!!.!.!.!.!.!.!.!..!!!..!!!!!....!!!!!!...!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And now we see our wayward traveler. Lisa, wonderful Lisa, out of the bleak,
thunderous night of pounding rain and endless, black highway. What do we owe
her? Personally I owe much…she hand delivered the requested words to “El
Paso” for an unscheduled breakfast performance that no one but me and Barb
seemed to embrace. Thank you. Others may have a different response because
it allowed me to practice, and practice and practice this perfect cowboy
song loudly and continuously in a not so perfect voice. Alas, the weekend
proved too….just too too, to be able to pull it off. (You’re welcome Greg.)
Now it’s performance time…....casual but serious
business. We see our dear, sweet Christy from our Gaiananda days performing
a crazy Victorian sleepover number with Onca and Baraka Mundi, an amazing
veil dance from Awalim, an
introductory lesson in the art of the solo by Jill Parker......and so on and
so on and so on. The crowd was so appreciative, cheering and hooting.
But…….. what about us? We were a different beast all-together. We wore
sparkly bright colors, real, live musicians, not a single petticoat in
sight, we were from Cincinnati for Gods’ sake!
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The band sets up, the dancers are in place, Onca
introduces us and before we know it, the stage is ours. From the left comes
Barb. Terrie and Camille slither in from the right. The band is right on and
the crowd is with us. I watch from the sidelines, rooting for them and
smiling with a good game face all the while. Oh, they’re doing well. We’ve
worked hard…”watch that right hip, it’s 1, 2, 3 rest!, the left leg needs to
go back a few inches, can we have a faster tempo, can we slow it down a bit,
the left hand is too high..….” on and on we worked. How beautiful when it
all comes together. Now for the super, secret transition. I stride out,
quick fan transfer as Barb and I deflect and tease with our longing looks.
We pause, we breathe…..and here we go again. The band comes in perfectly, we
turn on cue, we have our skirts in hand, we hit our marks. The crowd roars
with the first fan pops, the energy is there, the music is strong, the
man-singing is growly and gorgeous… they’re watching, they’re smiling….what
a great crowd…what fun! We hit our
turns, we hit our ending and ………………………We have applause.
What
a night. Now we can relax. Well, except Greg who is teaching the
last class of the entire camp and that’s not until Sunday afternoon.
Pity, but we have no worries because we know he will do fine; he
isn’t buying that quite yet but seems to be able to capture the
essence of partying just the same. I think he’s a professional.
Saturday was a blessed day of misty skies, classes to
stroll in to and so many layers of flavors to savor at meal times that it
proved to be just about perfect. I
awake Saturday morning having acquired the hangover that rightfully belonged
to Will; he professes no knowledge, or belief, in this theory. But, my brain
and belly were witness to this unfair occurrence and I vow to do my part
tonight to send one his way. He shrugs. A few hikes around the lake along
the Meditation Trail created just enough activity to avoid the slug label
and to shake my fog. Tim and Mark surpassed us all with their never-ending
adventure in town to find wi-fi, sophisticated drink, hardware stores and
pumpkins. Our thanks to them for helping us all. No sight of Onca until late
afternoon and then, there she is, perched by the lake, looking, as always,
intriguing. Even in her bathrobe.
Tim and Ruby embark on a Pumpkin
carving project to pretty up our cabin site. They turned out so well we had
to share. Maybe the highlight of the entire weekend was our Pumpkin Parade
past the line forming at the show site. There were cheers, clapping and
zagharets as we perched the lit pumpkins across the lake, reflecting off the
waters, for all to see.
And now for the show…..big surprises….costumes to admire,
movement to remember. A lesson that the simplest of movement, done with the
exquisite and inherent beauty of a women’s movement really is the essence of
life. Or, that an excruciatingly rehearsed routine and a bad-ass effort can
result in a Broadway-level performance and a roaring crowd. That cool
confidence, a tight troupe and modest attire can highlight the beauty of
tribal and reveal new found appreciation for these ancient ideas. That
anything done with joy and a smile is a great thing to watch. An unstudied
but charming and true M.C. can keep everything bouncing along wonderfully.
And finally, that the integrity,
knowledge, belief and presence of Jill Parker can bring us all back to the
foundation and beauty and expansiveness of Tribal Belly Dance. Bravo.
And now, to the Party. Out on the beach, the amazing
Dante women have made friends and were now a part of the fire show. Danielle
and Cheri shut the mouths of those that thought any fire spinners from
Cincinnati were surely sub-par. Wow! What a job they did! They groove when
they spin, a giggling joy to watch. From there we split our time between the
lodge with the sounds of the accordion, bag pipes and drums, and the Party
Tent. As the night wore on, the Party Tent, which was stumbling-close to our
cabin home, rev-ed up with
Daveed
and Dan on the drums and rest of the Keshvar Project band driving the
groove and many, many dancers sharing the floor. Onca came, tired and
fabulous Onca came, gave up one more dance and then collapsed in a heap. We
blessed her good night, she blessed us to carry on. We did, they did and we
all did it some more.
So, when will this end? Too soon. I drift off to sleep
listening to the sweet, sweet sounds of Will’s guitar, Dan's drum in the
distance, cuddled up in my bed. Others drift in one by one. Warm and cozy
with these friends and family. Peaceful. Perfect. What a weekend.
Teri Heist
The Keshvar Project, 2009
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