Sunday, January 07, 2007

Peace of Dance

January 2007
Posted on Hardnewsmedia.com

After the Khmer Rouge fell, a small group of artistes, who had risked their lives to preserve culture, argued that the ritual of classical dance performances could help the country come to terms with the genocide

Never let the costumes worn by classical Cambodian dancers blind, for there is much more to their performance than glittering jewellery, silk and satin.

According to Sophiline Cheam Shapiro, who came to Vienna from Cambodia recently with the ballet Pamina Devi, the sequins, gold accessories and stunning headgear are used to transform dancers into celestial beings, who appear on stage to connect the natural world with the spiritual one, so that harmony reigns here, there and everywhere.

The dancers perform tales from popular mythology in an effort to enforce morality within communities. This is something the Khmer Rouge never understood, says Sophiline. When the Khmer Rouge came to power in 1975, it killed 90 per cent of all the dancers and musicians in Phnom Penh. Those who survived, went into hiding. The only music allowed were Maoist-style songs celebrating the revolution.

Sophiline, eight years old at the time, recalls the Khmer Rouge tried to make her forget her past and sing only one song, the words of which turned out to be a lie, and a tragedy. The Khmer Rouge tried to turn Cambodia into an agricultural utopia with a classless society. Cities were emptied and populations forced into the countryside to work as farmers. But, instead of increased produce, there were famines. Other professionals, especially intellectuals, were killed. The practise of tradition was forbidden.

But the past is like a shadow. It follows one everywhere. How can anyone forget the past, especially Sophiline, who lost her father, brothers, grandmother and cousins to the reign of terror unleashed by the extreme ideology of the Khmer Rouge?

When memories of the tragedy overwhelm her, she turns to thoughts of all that was and still is beautiful in Cambodia. And music and dance come first to her mind. Sophiline is one of the first generation of graduates from the Royal University of Fine Arts of Phnom Penh. By the time she finished her studies there in 1988, the Khmer Rouge had fallen and a small group of artistes, who had risked their lives to preserve culture, argued that the ritual of classical dance performances could help the country come to terms with the genocide.

So, Sophiline danced. But she simultaneously reinvented her art to reflect contemporary concerns. In 1991, she travelled to California to study dance ethnology. With her husband John Shapira, she started the Khmer Arts Academy in Long Beach—a haven for Cambodian immigrants in California.

It hurts Sophiline when she recalls that nearly two million people died between 1975 and 1979, but no one, to this day, has admitted to any wrongdoing. When questioned about the killings in Cambodia under the Khmer Rouge, those who ought to know better continue to blame others. They refuse to admit that Cambodians were tortured and killed by other Cambodians.

One excuse offered is that Cambodians are Buddhists and their religion forbids them to kill. How can a Cambodian kill anyone, leave alone another Cambodian?

It is also part of Cambodian culture—this habit of important people never having to apologise for any wrong done to ordinary people.

As a result, Sophiline staged Samritechak in 2000, a dance-drama based on Shakespeare’s Othello, in classical Cambodian dance form. The focus was on Othello admitting his guilt and taking responsibility for murdering his innocent wife.

To Vienna, Sophiline brought Pamina Devi, a mesmerising tale that can inspire people to turn conflicts into something more creative. Traditionally, this tale is supposed to explore the difference between ignorance and enlightenment. But Sophiline adapted it to serve as a warning against dividing life into extremes, be they communist and capitalist, feminine and masculine or night and day.

The meditative movements of the dance are therapeutic. The slow pace allows both the artistes and the audience to transport rage and anger to deeper levels of mastery and to distance all negative emotions till they dissolve and are transformed into something more magical than mere war.

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