LIVING
DANCING THROUGH THE YEARS. JANUARY
2009
This year, our children were
much happier about how we welcomed in the New Year, compared to
last.
This year, as promised, we
booked a table with friends and family at a local taverna. We
arrived early (9.30 pm) but most people trickled in from 10pm
onwards.
A steady stream of food
arrived at our table from the time we sat down until midnight,
along with copious quantities of locally produced wine. The
television was on in the corner of the taverna from which
newsreaders mimed, allowing us to enjoy the musicians and their
amplified production of many traditional songs, full of feeling,
whose words can only be conveyed by the voice and the bouzouki.
At midnight, the television
volume was raised to allow us to count in the passing of one
year and the welcoming in of the new.
There is no equivalent of Auld
Lang syne in Greece, just lots of kissing on both cheeks and
wishing each other good health and a good new year
But then the dancing started…heart-felt
soulful dancing where people are able to abandon themselves and
surrender to the rhythm of the music.
Greek dancing has no class
boundaries and no age limit. Young children to arthritic
geriatrics are all encouraged and revered for sharing their
expression of abandonment with the crowd. The more I observe
Greek dancing, the more convinced I am that Greek dancing is
assimilated in childhood as part of the socialisation process.
Our own children haven’t ever
had Greek dancing lessons, yet they seem to know what to do with
their bodies. Some dances are especially for women, others for
males and some may have a regional history, a unique story to be
told by the bouzouki and the human body.
I have often asked Greek
friends to show me how to move my feet. I instinctively know
what to do with the upper half of my body but I am unsure of
where to position my feet, which is all very well if dancing
independently but what if I am dancing in a ring with my
neighbours?
So many of them have answered”
don’t worry! Just feel the music, let go of who you are and let
the music control you. If you can feel the music and you have
passion to express, nobody cares what your feet are doing; it is
the experession they are concerned about!’
I envy the Greeks thei r dance
and I wish we had something like this in England, for if the
English are emotionally constipated when it comes to self-expression,
the Greeks have emotional diarraohea.
It is a common sight in many
tavernas on a Friday night to see men (who have spent the whole
week heaving and cementing stones), linking arms and dancing
with each other to the order of the music. There is no beer
swilling, no mindless drunkeness or ugly fighting as I
frequently witnessed during my teenage years on a Friday night
at the pubs in England.
The Greeks have their national
pride, their national identity and their very own dance which
they use as a vehicle to express themselves.
May we all learn from them!
Alison Lorentzos
copyright 2009
