Dance Dance Lilliputian

Rimming with myriad curiosities, the Uptown office of Jawaahir Dance Company looks something of a crowded bazaar. Persian rugs, strewn end to end, cover the floor. A herd of carved wooden camels congregates on a shelf lined with gold fringe. A tangle of brightly hued scarves is heaped in a corner. And in the entryway hangs an enormous replica of a Bedouin wedding necklace—a stage prop painstakingly detailed with faux silver, turquoise, amber, and carnelian.

Cassandra Shore, the founder of both Jawaahir and the Cassandra School, appears no less exotic than her surroundings, carrying herself gracefully on bare, hennaed feet. Her long black hair is offset by a vivid turquoise blouse, and her gold earrings resemble the jingling coins that cover the hip scarves favored by her belly-dance students.

After studying Oriental dance in California, Shore came to Minneapolis in 1977—a serendipitous occasion, as she soon discovered an unexpected richness and diversity within the city’s dance scene. She established her school in 1978, and now, twenty-eight years later, the name “Cassandra” reigns supreme among Minnesotans who’ve fallen in love with Middle Eastern dance.

Among the trove gathered during Shore’s travels through Egypt, Turkey, and North Africa, her collection of dolls immediately catches the visitor’s eye. Surprisingly, they originate closer to home, having been handcrafted by a former student who now lives on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington state. Designed to represent the various folk styles of Middle Eastern dance, the six exquisite dolls are rare; only a few of each character were made.

The Ottoman “Rom” dancer is outfitted in traditional Turkish gypsy style, with white pantaloons and a vest detailed with gold embroidery and tiny sequins. A pillbox hat accented with a pink lotus-like flower perches on her braided hair, and a festive smile is painted across her face.

Another doll, dressed in a brown and turquoise striped caftan and braided yarn belt, represents a Tunisian folk dancer artfully balancing a water jug on her head. In Tunisia, it is traditionally a woman’s duty to collect water, Shore explained, and this utilitarian skill becomes art via a vigorous dance of twisting and twirling during which the full pot remains stationary on her head.

The Moroccan Guedra doll, with hair of braids and beads, maintains an atypical stance; she’s planted in kneeling position. Hers is a trance/blessings dance enacted through the upper body, predominantly with the hands—a style Shore referred to as the “finger ballet.” Draped in indigo fabric, the doll’s arms are positioned as though presenting a gift. The collection also features dolls depicting Khaleeji (Persian Gulf), Ouled Nail (Algerian), and Moroccan Schikhatt dancers, each modeling an embellished costume, painted fingernails, superbly detailed jewelry, and an evocative expression.

Serving as both decorative objects and instructional aids, these gorgeous dolls couldn’t ask for a more fitting home than Jawaahir, a word that, in Arabic, means jewels. “I’m trying to expand people’s horizons,” Shore explained when asked about the utility of her collection. “Everyone knows belly dance, but there’s a lot more to Middle Eastern dancing than just that.”