The Call of the Soul, Op-ed

What makes a woman in a village, in a country with a lifestyle so different, dedicate herself to reviving an art form from another land? Why would her passion drive her to devote more than twenty years to this goal without seeking financial profit, despite the challenges and criticism? And why did her community eventually embrace this art and even welcome it? Could there be unconscious reasons behind such motivation, perseverance, and social acceptance?

Krisztina was selling clothes in a Hungarian village until one day she attended an oriental dance performance by a dancer from Budapest in a nearby town. She responded deeply to the accompanying Eastern music; for music is nourishment for the soul—it speaks to the emotions, seeps into the heart, and remains rooted within. She was captivated by the rhythms and movements of the dance. That feeling was not a fleeting impression but rather a powerful, renewing force that drove her to pursue a dance instructor’s license in oriental dance in Budapest. Every weekend, she traveled 150 kilometers to study, returning at the start of each new week. In her view, this license- which treated dance as a form of sport and authorized its holder to train women of all ages, including children—was worth the effort. And indeed, she applied herself with determination, perseverance, and dedication for twenty-five years until her hard work bore fruit.

When she first began training women in her village, she faced reservations. Some feared change, since fear by instinct magnifies the unknown, and for safety they preferred her to teach traditional Hungarian folk dances. Others found some of the unfamiliar movements provocative, for people are often hostile to what they do not understand. Yet beyond this, oriental dance is also a sport—like Swedish gymnastics or the gym—that shapes the body athletically. But unlike them, it is performed to captivating rhythms that lighten the sense of fatigue, creating a state of emotional enchantment distinct from the music of Zumba. More than that, the dance makes women feel their femininity within a collective setting; they take pride in their charm, rejoice in their spontaneity and freedom, and feel delighted by the admiration of the audience. Still, was that all there was to it? Or were there deeper, unconscious motives at play—powerful though unspoken?

Over two decades, the number of trainees steadily grew—women of all ages and professions, including academics. Performances spread from the village to the county and even to neighboring Austria. Some dancers, all amateurs, won awards at the national level. Though the COVID-19 pandemic reduced numbers and rehearsals, today there remain about fifty dancers. At first, Krisztina had to buy costumes during trips to Turkey, but now village seamstresses, and even some of the dancers themselves, create them. Performances became warmly welcomed by audiences, who respected the fact that the dancers came from local families, relatives, and acquaintances.

Although oriental dance is widespread in the Western world, in Hungary it has become particularly popular, with schools established nationwide. In fact, Hungarian troupes have even won first prizes in international competitions. What drives this? Krisztina agreed with my conclusion that perhaps part of the explanation lies in the Hungarian people’s ethnic roots and history. In addition to the invasions of the Asian Avars and Mongols, who mingled with the population, the primary Hungarian people—after whom the country is named—share ancestral origins with groups such as the Tatars and Finns, from beyond the Ural Mountains of Asia. Moreover, Hungary was under Ottoman rule for a century and a half, leaving Eastern and Asian cultural imprints. Thus, oriental dance—which historians trace back to ancient Egypt and its celebrations—may in Hungary represent a return to origins, a revival of roots, and a reconnection with both the self and with peoples of shared heritage or cultural bonds.

As someone coming from Egypt, one cannot help but feel joy at such closeness between peoples through culture and art, and happiness that our music and songs are received with affection and enthusiasm. One cannot but admire Krisztina’s initiative, effort, perseverance, and passion in heeding the call of the soul to achieve this accomplishment. Nor can one fail to appreciate the dedication and mastery of the amateur dancers, or the respect shown by audiences who welcome new forms of art and life with open minds and hearts. For in life, nothing is permanent except change—and through change comes expanded awareness and the building of life itself.