THE DANCE OF THE DERVISHES

Southland Times, Issue 23782, 1 April 1939, Page 13

THE DANCE OF THE DERVISHES

By

A. T’Serstevens

'T’HE Chief of the Mohammedan 1 Yugoslav Monks, Saad-en-Dinn, graciously beckoned me to follow. I was to watch the Dance of the Dervishes! We made our way through the cloister courtyard, filled with an abundance of lilies and hydrangeas, and entered a house built like an octagonal baptismal chamber. In the lower story, enclosed by wellturned wooden bars, is a round room, and above, a circular balcony with a section for men, and another, carefully screened off, for women.

Saad-en-Dinn, his stately black gown flowing about him, squatted in Turkish fashion; very soon about twenty monks seated themselves around him, forming a circle. They were all attired in black gowns similar to that of Saad-en-Dinn, but theirs were bordered with bright colours. A tall felt headdress completed the costume. Without any signal or command, slight murmurs rose from the group.

The litany was accompanied by a rhythmical motion of the body, swaying , backwards and forwards. Little by little the recitation grows louder, and the motions, in concert, grow ever faster and faster. I begin to distinguish the sounds, always the same: “La-y-la aye - e la-la; La-y-la aye - e la-la; There is no God but Allah!” The faces are pallid, wan; the dancers gasp for breath, and perspiration literally streams from their foreheads. This chant lasts about 20 minutes, growing weaker and weaker while the bodies still jerk convulsively to and fro. Slowly, even those relax. A long silence during which everyone seems to regain his equilibrium . . . Then, the voices rise again, first one, then another and another, until they all join in one chorus, “Amin . . . Amin . .

Suddenly, seven of the Dervishes rise in one body and move slowly coun-ter-clockwise in a circle. One of them breaks into a chant, a lively and beautiful melody. At the same time, the Dervishes gently rock their bodies from left to right, accompanied by a muffled buzzing. Gradually, the dance motion quickens and the murmur develops into a jerky rattle, alternated by heavy breathing. After several minutes, the chant becomes a cry like the groan of a wild beast. It is quite impossible to describe the horrible gasping sounds emitted by the Dervishes. The faces are now of a deathly pallor, the wild rolling eyes standing out of the heads which are grotesquely bobbing to and fro. A sharp odour of perspiration and filth escapes from the writhing and convulsive forms. " The dance now attains a fantastic speed. Each whirls separately, spinning like a top. This seems to arouse a feverish ecstasy in the men, expressed from time to time, by a weird cry from one of the faithful.

The collective effervescence finally has reached its ritual conclusion. A young man of perhaps twenty, his long pale face shot with fatigue, unsteadily withdraws from the circle. In halting steps, as if in somnambulistic slumber, he advances towards a niche and takes hold of a dagger. He then returns to the circle. Slowly, he raises the dagger above his head. His face is convulsed in a sort of petrified hysteria, foam trickles down from the corner of his mouth. . . A veritable mystic madness now has seized the dancers; the motions which, up to then had been regular, become wild. The room is filled with strident and hoarse shouts: "Kay-oum-Allah. . . Kayoum-Allah.” The religious frenzy has reached its paroxysm.

Amid the redoubled shouts of his confreres, the young man places the point of the dagger against his left cheek and slowly thrusts it into the flesh. Frantic shrieks rise from the assembly. The dagger has now gone through the left cheek and is pro-

truding through the right. A frantic furore shakes the Dervishes when the point of the dagger becomes visible through the pierced flesh. . . His arms crossed over his chest, the young man turns round and round, freely offering himself up to the ecstasy of the others, who have become but a mass of groans and leaps. And when at last he removes the dagger very slowly and with a visible effort, the Dervishes fall back into their squatting positions, their faces ravaged, and murmur what is nothing but a whimper, “Amin . . . Amin . . . Amin . . .” The young man has put back the dagger into its niche. He has again taken his place in the circle and repeats with the others, “Amin. . .” Calm is now restored. The assembly rises and faces towards the East. In the death-like silence, Saad-en-Dinn chants the prayer to the King.