The Lesson from Mahmoud Reda that changed my Life
- Beauty can be found in the ugliest places
You´ll not hear me using the expression “Master” or “Master Teacher” frequently. I rarely use that title, one of deep respect and admiration, the kind of recognition that cannot be bought or marketing-made.
For me, a Master Teacher isn´t only someone who has a deep and wide dominion over their craft. In the case of Mahmoud Reda, that´s Egyptian Dance (Oriental & Folklore).
A Master Teacher is someone who transcends their craft becoming a Master of Life through the craft they so lovingly work on.
My relationship with Mahmoud Reda changed me on many levels. As mentioned, he wasn´t only my teacher but my best friend, grandfather, creative partner, supporter, a soul mate of some sort. A Messenger, I dare saying. An angel, on several occasions.
And, yet, there was a specific lesson, on a specific moment, that resides within as a particular turning point. In my dance, in my life.
Joana Saahirah, photographed by Master Mahmoud Reda in Cairo, Egypt
We were having lunch at Mahmoud´s dance studio, in "K´asr el Nile" street, a busy road of non-stop honking, joking, and trading in downtown Cairo. I´d complained about the traffic, as every Cairo resident does, and arrived late. The previous night, filled with shows with my orchestra, had been exhausting. Managing, daily, Egyptian musicians, plus technicians, assistants, and audience, was a daunting task. Thrilling, as most experiences in Egypt, but exhausting.
-Sit down, enjoy the fish…- Mahmoud told me, trying to offer me a respite from the madness of my dancing life.
We did it often, sitting down with a delicious meal, old or new music to listen to, or a dance video to watch; we did it often, trying to offer each other an oasis of art, friendship, mutual understanding and inspiration in a world which is often cruel and superficial.
That day, I was particularly mad at the world of Egyptian Dance and its dirtiness. Corruption, prostitution, sexual harassment, the ordeal of navigating muddy waters without getting dirty.
- There´s a funny story I´d like to tell you. - Mahmoud announced.
I loved listening to his stories. They were filled with humor, wisdom, sensibility, and intelligence far from arrogant. It simply was. Genius.
Cups of over-sweetened tea were served by Farouk, Mahmoud´s assistant, and a dancer himself; we took a sip, breathed heavily, and sighed.
- You must have noticed this building is always dirty. There´s garbage on the floor, at the windows, at every corner. Garbage everywhere!
I nodded, used to that landscape; almost indifferent to it.
-One day, a couple of years ago, I lost my mind, I couldn´t take it anymore. Instead of talking to the neighbors, trying to make them see how uncivilized they are, I decided to take pictures of the garbage, print a few copies, and leave them at their doorsteps. Hopefully, I thought, they´d feel ashamed when they looked at those photos, and they´d clean the building.
Farouk came in, once more, bringing us “knefa b´el eshta”, one of my favorite Egyptian desserts. 
I licked my fingers, took another sip of my tea, and smiled, excited like a child listening to her grandfather´s stories.
Mahmoud continued, with a mischievous I knew and adored.
-The problem was…- he continued, delighted with his own story -, when the photos were printed and I looked at them, I realized they were beautiful. The images of the garbage I thought would terrify and shame my neighbors were after all gorgeous.
- A sight for sore eyes, I´m sure! - I joked, presuming he was joking too.
-Exactly. - Mahmoud answered, in a serious tone, leaving me startled.
He proceeded to explain:
-You see...once I looked at those pictures, I could no longer use them to shame my neighbors. They looked like a piece of art. I was confused, still am.
So was I.
How could images of garbage piles be beautiful?
They were.
Mahmoud showed me one of those pictures and I agreed with him - those images wouldn´t work if their goal was to discourage people from making and gathering garbage in their building. If shown those images, they too would fall in love with their beauty and, eventually, gather bigger piles of garbage at their doorsteps. Just for the sake of their beauty.
Mahmoud and I laughed at the irony of the story. We laughed at the chaos, the complexity, the blurred lines that divide beauty from ugliness, right from wrong, art from life.
From that moment on, I knew I´d reconsider every time something or someone showed up on my horizon as “ugly” or “beautiful”. I knew, as he knew, Artists, just like human beings who are fully alive and attentive, carry compassion and an open mind. They have to. We have to.
Obviously, Mahmoud didn´t believe polluting the building was civilized; he just saw Beauty in the midst of ugliness; Goodness in the midst of evil; an Opportunity in the midst of ignorance.
Once you notice it, Art and Life become so much wider, ever-present, hidden in the most unexpected places.
As I observed the photo of the garbage, one amongst many of what became affectionately known as “the garbage collection”, I joked. We joked. But it was beautiful. Indeed.
Life and Art were never the same. Beauty, as I´d understood it until then, was never the same. I was never the same.
Check out the NEW "Oriental Reda Style" Online Course, an introduction to the fascinating world of Mahmoud Reda presented by one of his closest students and collaborators, Joana Saahirah.
50% Complete
Two Step
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua.