Tannoura

Last week I rustled up a group of friends to attend the twice-weekly Tannoura show down in Islamic Cairo. The Tannoura is performed in an old caravanserai, the Wikalat Al-Ghouri, that has been lovingly converted into a theater.

This was the fourth time I've gone to see this show, which in my opinion is one of the best free shows I've ever seen. Anywhere. Last year when we were in Istanbul KC and I were outraged at the 30 euro price tag on tickets to see the dervishes - we couldn't picture a show that could be 30 euros better than the Tannoura troup in Cairo. A friend has described this show as the one time in Cairo when he wanted to give money, but couldn't find anyone to take it!


This is the part in the blog post where I tell you about all the nifty things I've found out about this cultural phenomenon - its history, its significance, etc. But the truth is, I have almost no clue about the cultural background of the dance.

I know that "tannoura" refers to the dance, the dancer, and the weighted skirts that the dancers wear. I know that the "dervishes" are followers of Sufism who use the dance - which can go on for more than 40 minutes of solid spinning - to come closer to God. This website, although a bit long, is the closest thing I've found to a historical reference online (the author even gets spinning lessons from the dervishes!).


I also think that some of the dancers in this show are "folkloric" - meaning performers - and some of them are genuine Sufis. I wonder how the troup balances cultural exchange, show business, and religious roots?

The show in Cairo consists of a few acts, beginning with various musicians (different drums, flutes, finger cymbals, what I think is a zither) who play a series of hypnotic pieces. Not exactly slow and stately, but with a pulsing rhythm that seems to pervade the entire body. I'm always exhausted after the show, even though I've done nothing but sit still for 90 minutes. The first dervish comes out and dances with some of the musicians, who've changed into the iconic white-skirted outfits. Eventually, the last act of the show has 3 dervishes who perform for more than half an hour, spinning and spinning with different body and arm movements.



The most visually arresting part of the show is, of course, the dervishes themselves. In the Egyptian tradition the dancers wear brilliantly colored applique skirts, two or three layered on top of each other. The skirts come alive during the dancing, undulating, twinkling, and the dancers lift the skirts over their heads in various patterns, shedding the skirts as the dance goes on. This is no sedate mysticism - it's more like a riotous joy in spirituality.


I've seen the show in the freezing cold and the burning heat. I've taken guests, sent guests, and convinced old Cairo hands to go check it out. It's really great - Saturdays and Wednesdays at 8:30 pm (-ish) down in Islamic Cairo, between Al Azhar and the Bab Zuweila. Go have a great time!