In Egypt, Devotees of Zar Take a Spin With Spirits

The drums start slowly--tum dum ta tuum tum.

Women toss their heads and sway to the beat. One repeatedly slaps her face. Another thumps her chest. A crippled man lying on the floor cries bitterly as he moves his upper body to the rhythm.

As the beat grows louder, a woman rises from a cross-legged position and flings herself into the music. Suddenly she lets out a shriek and collapses. The drumming goes on.

The dancers come to this ceremony, known as a “zar,” hoping to be cured of ailments of the body or mind caused by a spirit, or “jinn”--the origin of the English word “genie.”

A zar is a world of its own, with unique rituals, symbols and shared beliefs. It provides a kind of therapy in a culture where seeing a psychologist or psychiatrist is thought of as a foreign luxury.

Zar devotees in the Middle East and Africa believe the jinn can be placated only by drumming and wild dancing supervised by a “kodia” or “sheika” with knowledge of age-old rituals and--supposedly--supernatural powers. Musicians playing drums, tambourines and flutes help conduct the zar and may act as a chorus.

In the shabby Cairo neighborhood of Abu el-Seoud, the sound of drumming pouring from a window announces the beginning of a zar in a ground floor apartment. Such zars are usually held in a room or courtyard at the kodia’s house.

Most zar-goers are women. Jawad Fatayer, a professor of social psychology at the American University in Cairo, says women, who have an inferior status in the Egyptian society, “feel more deprived . . . and they tend to believe more in [zar] due to a common perception of lack of justice among them.”

Dr. Mohammed Shaalan, professor of psychiatry at Cairo’s Al-Azhar University, says many psychiatrists in Egypt lack proper training or the time to listen to their patients, so the suffering turn to zars. He adds that the high cost of a therapist also deters patients.

At Abu el-Seoud zar, participants pay just two Egyptian pounds, about 50 cents in U.S. currency, at the door. The smoke of incense is passed over the head and under the arms for purification, and shoes are removed as if entering a holy place.

Inside, the kodia and musicians, all women dressed in traditional gowns and head scarves, sit on the floor before a tambourine holding more burning incense. Those seeking release--some moaning, others praying out loud and calling for God’s help--take up the rest of the bare room. Despite the incense, the stench of sweat hangs over the room.

Islamic clerics say zars are “haram, or religiously forbidden. In Egypt they are illegal on the grounds that a zar is simply a way for charlatans to cheat the naive. The law is not strictly enforced, however.

Musician Hussein Abdel Latif argues the ceremony does not run contrary to religious beliefs.

“It’s God that cures the people,” he says. “He just uses us as the cause for their healing, just like he may use doctors.”

Awatef Hussein, 45, who has attended zars for two decades, says the rituals give her a sense of tranquillity and comfort. Hussein believes she was touched by a “land jinn” when she fell into a gutter at age 11. She has since suffered from a “psychological state” that makes her feel stifled and edgy.

“Doctors don’t have my treatment,” she says, adding that she’s seen various specialists.

Dr. Adel al-Madani, head of the psychiatry department at Al-Azhar University, says the zar works for some because it provides catharsis, allowing sufferers to express themselves--dance and shout--and vent their emotional tensions, anger or suppressed desires.

The room in Abu el-Seoud flows with energy as different rhythms are thumped out. This zar is held every Tuesday and sometimes lasts the whole day.

Beating the drum and singing, the kodia occasionally stretches her hand to one of the seated participants, asking her to rise and dance. She extends the same hand again when the frenzied dancer finishes--this time for money.

The kodia settles for a few pounds, about $1, from some participants but demands more of others. Some dancers pay right away; most bargain or promise to bring more money next time.

Some well-off people arrange private zars at their homes. These sometimes feature the slaughtering of animals as offerings to the spirits.

Rituals may also include dressing up: red costumes to cure “red spirits,” or a cloak with crosses for Christian or foreign spirits. Those possessed by an Arab spirit may wear the white robes of the Muslim pilgrimage to Mecca.

Today most zar-goers are poor and little educated. But Madiha el-Safty, a sociologist at American University, says high-class women used to hold zars as social gatherings. Even at today’s zars, when the drums are not beating, women smoke and chat about marriage, divorce or life and death.

Psychologist Fatayer notes that belief in the supernatural has allowed the zar to survive in this age of science and adds he expects the ceremony to be around far a long time.

“If people believe they are being healed, they can be healed,” he says. “This belief may give it the life to go on for thousands of years.”