El-Funoun Palestinian Popular Dance Troupe
El-Funoun Illustration by Dane Thibeault
INTERVIEW — Dance, dignity, and a determination to remain
Words & Interview by Michael Zarathus-Cook
ISSUE 15 | RAMALLAH | IN MOTION
Dancing may be the last thing on your mind if you’re trying to survive a genocide, there are far more urgent matters: food, water, shelter, safety, medical care. Yet, the fortitude that is required to persist in the face of such relentless cruelty, is itself rooted on something much deeper than the instinct to merely survive. To not only survive, but to survive with your dignity intact. For Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank, this bare minimum of human dignity has been denied both at home and under the watch of the global community they’ve pleaded with for a ceasefire. How do you maintain your dignity despite this onslaught? For El-Funoun Palestine Popular Dance Troupe, the answer to that question has always been in the form of a choreographic gesture. Specializing in the Arab-Palestinian dabke tradition, El-Funoun was founded in 1979 with a mandate to “contribute to liberating the individual and society at large.” For this company, dance has always been, above all, an expression of freedom, a wand of defiance, a weapon of resistance.
Prior to the October 7th attack by Hamas, the troupe—constituted by 268 volunteer dancers—used to perform regularly in schools, community centres, and performance venues both at home and abroad. They represented a Palestinian identity that was free from the shadow of their occupiers and animated by the ambitions of artistic cultivation. They toured domestically and internationally, stomping on stages as far wide as the USA, Canada, Portugal, Sweden, France, Germany, and more. Speaking with Cannopy from Ramallah in the West Bank, Khaled Qatamesh (Director) and Noora Baker (Head of Production) express a yearning for their touring days to return, to be able to take the Palestinian cause to the world again, a world whose sympathy for Gaza’s plight has grown exponentially—and yet not enough. When it's safe to travel again, the troupe’s hope is to be met with a long list of invitations, a hope in the courage of programmers and organizations willing to put their money where their morals are. Such invitations, symbolic though they may be, would be a show of solidarity to the dignified existence of Palestinians everywhere. In the meantime, Qatamesh, Baker, and the rest of El-Funoun must contend with the more domestic side of their mission: to stay put, to keep the faith, to not cede ground, come what may.
CANNOPY x El-Funoun
MISSION
“El-Funoun” is simply Arabic for “the arts”—has presenting a broad mixture of the arts always been at the heart of El Funoun’s mission?
NB ─ In the beginning, when El Funoun was established in 1979, the main aim was to preserve Palestinian cultural identity and folklore. El Funoun was one of the movements that wanted to connect back to the land and to the heritage after 1948. So after that, as it grew, it wasn’t only about preserving the culture, but also to look into how creativity, dance, and the arts can actually develop this culture.
You’ve said in the past that, “In the diaspora, there is more of a need to preserve culture and freeze it in time. Whereas, we are living our culture every day, and we want it to evolve.” This is true for most diasporas in general. But with the ongoing genocide in Gaza, do you find there’s more of an incentive to defend Palestinian traditions, or are you motivated now more than ever to push it to evolve?
NB ─ I might have used the wrong word, it’s not just this idea of preserving, it’s about reviving the culture. I think there is a tendency when you're away from your homeland, and when culture is being appropriated, being stolen, threatened, that you want to keep it as you remember because you are isolated from the homeland. You are not in continuous connection with the actual land and heritage. When you're here in Palestine, you don’t feel the need to keep it as is, but to keep it alive. This is very dangerous when it comes to the Palestinian cause, where our very existence is being threatened. It’s a survival mechanism. There’s a genocide happening. But what we need to do is not only preserve our culture, but keep it alive and keeping it alive can have different meanings. It can mean being inspired by this heritage and developing it for people to feel connected as well.
Connected to how they are right now in the contemporary world.
KQ ─ The two ways are correct in a way, whether you’re in the diaspora or living in Palestine. It’s an experience. For the people that were exiled in the diaspora, refugees outside of Palestine, time stopped at that moment in their relationship with Palestine. So what they have experienced in terms of culture and identity and heritage has been to that point: 1948 or 1967 or 1970s or the 80s, whenever they were expelled or left. If members of the diaspora were in Palestine, they would experience a development. They would see the cultural changes here, changes in the weddings and in day-to-day life. So there are two different views, but it’s about experience. It's not about what’s right or wrong, they’re both defending culture, they’re both defending this identity that’s being threatened.
DABKE
How did dabke evolve? And how do you view its continuous evolution within the contemporary dance zeitgeist?
NB — Dabke is a tool, it’s part of the culture and it’s very much connected to the body. And the body is a very sacred thing that we use. I mean, this genocide is happening to the people. The land is nothing without the people. For us, dabke is a very powerful statement about existence, about connecting to our path. It is said that dabke started as a ritual for people when they wanted to come together and stomp on their land to create their homes from the soil. So when we talk about that and we bring it to life, this is something that can bring people together. And El Funoun is about group work, coming together as a community and feeling that you can connect, produce, be active and proactive in what we believe in, which is ultimately the liberation of Palestine.
KQ ─ Prior to 1948, dabke was just a dance in weddings or in harvest, in celebrations. But after that it started developing into an art form and a tool for resistance. It's just a statement that we do exist. We have existed for thousands of years in this land, and we do have the right to this land as Palestinians. And the role of dabke has transformed into the people’s resistance.
NB ─ And one thing that the occupation is trying to do is to break us apart. So when you talk about dabke as a tool, it’s a tool to bring together not only Palestinians. Many groups are using our music and our choreography, and this is something that we’re very passionate about. How can we communicate this kind of ethos of art that's not connected to a person, to a name, to a credit, to a brand. It’s for everybody. We have over 300 members who are volunteers, so it’s not only for the monetary value of being a dancer, it’s there for the people. And you can see now in the demonstrations, people went back to dancing and music. The Palestinian issue has not ended, it has actually become a very important part of the world’s conscience.
Zareef ─ The definitive characterization of El-Funoun as a dance troupe insufficiently captures the breadth of their artistic output; dance is simply the common denominator of an all-encompassing artistic oeuvre. Since its founding in 1979, El-Funoun’s musical output has included 16 studio recordings and, among these, 2006’s Zareef stands out as a token of their capacity in this medium. The album’s listenership has been revived since the onset of the ongoing genocide in Gaza, and a few of its songs seem more pertinent now than when they were recorded. The album rings throughout with an evergreen quality, and sounds in retrospect like a mission statement, a full-throated declaration that theirs was, and is, a dignified defiance. In particular, there are three songs on this album that seem to make an about face to speak directly in the ear of the listener: “Dialogue”, “Dignity”, and “Don’t Leave”.
On “Dialogue” ─ Why is dialogue with an occupying force impossible?
NB ─ How do you communicate, or want to have a dialogue, with somebody who's stepping on your neck. This would be the surrendering of the Palestinian people. And with all of what we’ve sacrificed, surrendering is not an option.
On “Dignity” ─ Where is the dignity of a culture preserved when so much of its cultural infrastructure and leaders have been decimated
KQ ─ For us, the important word is continuation. We are a people that is not about the individual. We’re about the community, about the continuation of the group. For many people under oppression, you know, the body is decimated but the spirit, the soul, continues. It just continues. It just keeps producing. So this is the dignity that we have, it's in how we continue.
On “Don’t Leave” ─ Is there any circumstance where you would leave the West Bank─even to spare your dancers of danger?
NB — I think Gaza has answered that question. It’s not about staying or leaving, it’s about life or death. And of course some people can leave, but the reality of the situation is it’s not a choice to leave. It’s not like in Gaza or here people are saying: “oh, you wanna leave? Please go, go!” Where can we actually go? The borders are controlled. You can’t leave even if you want to. With people who are oppressed, who have gone through ethnic cleansing and through genocide, you don’t just see a whole community disappear completely. People stay. If you ask people in Toronto to leave unwillingly for Vancouver, would they do that? Exactly. So why would you ask for Palestinians to leave their land? It’s like you’re asking a fish to be out of water. Why?