The Olive and The Oak

It’s not an easy time to be Middle Eastern. From what little news we hear living in the West, you would be forgiven for considering the ‘Middle East’ as an exotic, faraway land of deserts, terror, and badly-written villains from early-2000s movies. It becomes easy, conventional even, to disregard the parts of these countries that many natives would consider integral — the art, the poetry, the food, the music. These elements of society have shaped generations, and personally, I think they are the most important things to remember in times of political turmoil. When life is difficult, we must turn to culture to remind us of joy and meaning.

That’s why, as someone with a mother who escaped Iran during the revolution in 1979, I was excited to see The Olive and the Oak advertised in Rector’s Café as part of the Byre World Series. It was described as “a meeting of East and West” – a spotlight on connections between Middle Eastern and Western arts and cultures that are so often starkly separated.

Upon entering the Barron Theatre, I was greeted by the soft but captivating sounds of the santur, a traditional Persian instrument played beautifully by Dr Parmis Mozafari. It seemed a delightful preface to what I expected to be an evening of similarly engaging performances.

Unfortunately, the event got off to a slightly slow start — not that Dr Röder’s lecture about the Empress Soraya, a German/Persian public figure, second wife of the Shah Pahlavi, wasn’t interesting, but it wasn’t exactly what I was expecting, and ran on slightly too long. Perhaps, in an academic setting, I would have been more invested in the story, but instead I was itching to get to the other performances promised in the programme.

Despite this, the rest of the evening flowed naturally, through musical recitals, poetry deep-dives, and reflections on visits to Middle Eastern countries from foreigners’ perspectives. The connections in cultures were highlighted well, and with a careful grace that acknowledged hard times whilst focusing on other aspects of society. The easy movement between items was aided effortlessly by the thoughtful narration from Dr Ayah Durkawi, who conceptualised and curated the event. Her elegance in narration translated well to conversation, as she earnestly described to me her motivation for this event: her students. She explained that understanding the connections between cultures is integral for students of foreign languages, especially those for whom such cultures are often obscured or inaccessible.

Undoubtedly, the stand-out elements of the evening were the dances and workshop from ZarifAtToul AsSamer, an amateur volunteer dance troupe who use dabke, a traditional folk dance, to spread awareness of Palestinian culture and raise money to support Palestinian orphans.

It was a lovely, high-energy interlude in a series of otherwise engaging but serious talks, and the audience connected with it instantly, clapping and singing along. If I’m being honest, I was initially reluctant to join in with the dance workshop at the end — I’m much better at watching dancing than I am at participating, but the dancers’ enthusiasm wouldn’t allow me to sit still. After an explanation that the dance was meant to unify people after a long day of harvest, we began clumsily attempting to recreate the moves from the stage. I found myself holding hands with the people around me, dissolving into laughter together as the instructor yelled that we weren’t unified enough and that we would repeat the dance until we did it perfectly (which, thank goodness, he didn’t hold us to). This was a perfect encapsulation of the spirit of the evening — connecting with strangers through united joy in the unfamiliar.

Photo: Florence Gill