Amira El-Naqeeb on tradition, music, and dance in Bosnia and Herzegovina When a friend suggested that we go to see a Bosnian folklore performance by Veselin Maslesa at the Cairo Opera House, I had no idea what to expect. Bosnia and Herzegovina were incorporated into the Ottoman Empire and remained part of it for almost five centuries, and I soon found that its influence is still strongly present. "I'm an Ottoman Orthodox," Slobodan Soja, the ambassador of Bosnia and Herzegovina told Al-Ahram Weekly. "The Ottoman influence is not only present in our music, dance and food, but also in our mentality." The opening dance began with a group of strong young men dressed as shepherds shouting according to my Serbian companion's simultaneous translation, "Kill the wolf!" They danced very merrily in circles, called the kolo. As my companion explained, the kolo is a variation of a dance found throughout the former Yugoslavia. They were joined by the women for the second dance, in which the whole company stood side by side. The dance was from the northeastern part of Bosnia, and although I could not understand a word of Serbo-Croat the tunes were noticeably familiar, with oriental Turkish tunes prevailing in the rhythms. The fitness and coordination of the dancers were delightful. One could sense the harmony and chemistry, their smooth movements and communication with one another. Yet not one member of the company is professional. They are all educated people who just love dancing and find it is their way of tuning into their heritage. Almost all the dancers have other full-time jobs. "We have TV presenters, news anchors and professors," Soja said. "They all have one thing in common, which is passion." Physical beauty is an aspect often strongly associated with this region of the former Yugoslavia. The striking element was the variation in looks from blonde to brunette. The dancers dressed in their exotic, richly-embroidered costumes were like a moving mosaic. The women's embroidered and usually aproned costumes were hand woven and stitched in warm colours, while the ethnic patterns appeared to be very similar to the patterns woven by the Bedouin of North and South Sinai -- perhaps because many of these Bedouin were originally janissaries brought from Eastern Europe to guard St Catherine's Monastery. The girls came to stage wearing big beautiful necklaces of gold coins. They danced without music, whirling in circles to the rhythm of steps and clanking of gold on gold. The dance steps resembled the Lebanese Dabka or the Greek Zorba. In the old tradition -- during the Ottoman period and for decades later -- the habit of possessing and wearing gold was held to be a sign of wealth and prosperity. It was also considered that if a woman wore gold it was a sign that she was rich and ready for marriage. Soja explained that in the old days if a man fell in love and happily conveyed the news to his family, the first question asked would be whether she was rich or poor. Nowadays this is not a parameter in Bosnian society, and most people marry for love. "Wow Sevdalinka," my companion cheered as a young woman mounted the stage, and started to sing a sad tune. He explained that this famous style of song was often played in kafana or coffee houses, and usually told a romantic tale of lovers. I asked my companion to try to translate the song. "She is singing in the gypsy language, and she is dwelling on a lost love," he said. As Soja explained, this genre of songs is Sevdalinka, a very special form of song and unique to the coffee houses of the Bosnia and Herzegovina region, but would not be heard in hip bars or clubs. I understood from the nostalgic look in the eyes of both the ambassador and my companion when talking about the kafana that these places were symbolic in their minds. "It's where people talk, eat, vent their feelings, drink, and smoke," Soja explained. The idea of relaxing in a coffee house, meeting friends and chilling out is a tradition that the Bosnians inherited from the Ottomans. Rahat lokum, is a sweet cube stuffed with nuts that is usually served with Turkish coffee, and its name suggests that its sweetness brings comfort and delight. "That part of the tradition, I will never be ready to give up," Soja laughed.
