Sophie’s Dancelog

My day starts with a class with Reyhan Tuzsus. Reyhan and one of her daughters meet me at the Gaziosmanpaşa Kültür Merkezi square. Lovingly yet firmly Reyhan grabs my arm and leads me through the noisy streets untill we reach the outskirts of the neighborhood. Following her into a narrow passage we descend into the mahalle. The slums go all the way down the steep hill and up on the other side of the valley. Thousands of houses marked with poverty and decay. Garbage and rubble everywhere.

Outside their house Hüsnü, Reyhan’s husband, greets me. He remembers me from the boat trip on the Bosforus, when I asked his band to play “Ağam”. Inside the tiny house Reyhan orders me to relax. She brings me water and we chat for a while. Then she grabs the old stereo and takes me to the “studio” - a small room with uneven floor covered with carpets. She hands me a scarf and teaches me how to tie it around the hips her way. Then we start dancing. It’s a pity Reyhan doesn’t allow to videotape her, because I wish everyone could see how she dances. How much feeling she expresses, how she’s attuned to the music, how she constantly changes the steps and the gestures. How playful she gets sometimes, and other times how she forgets of my presence and looks inwards.
After an hour I get tired. We come back to the first room and Reyhan insists that I share a meal with her. She leaves the room and swiftly comes back with a tray full of food: delicious flat bread with ground meat, salty cheese, ham, olives and cherry juice. We chat a bit, I show her and Hüsnü the videos from our show night at the Erboy Hotel, and then it’s time to leave.
Both Hüsnü and Reyhan take me back to the bus station. The procedure is the same: Reyhan would not let go of my arm until we reach the bus stop. We hug and kiss each other and then I’m off to the other world across the bridge.