Post by Bozur on Dec 23, 2007 20:12:28 GMT -5
Fresh Meadows
Even for an Ancient People, There’s Always Saturday Night
“We belong to something very unique,” one Mandaean said of his people.
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By JAMES ANGELOS
Published: December 23, 2007
THE dancing at Ali Baba restaurant in Fresh Meadows, Queens, began before dinner was served. A tuxedo-clad D.J. spun earsplitting Middle Eastern melodies set to reggaetón beats. On the dance floor, beneath a bronze chandelier that hung like an upside-down minaret, women in long dresses swung their hips and howled celebratory shrills. Men with their suit jackets removed stretched out their arms and wiggled their shoulders as they shuffled about. Small children spun in place and ran in circles.
The few dozen revelers who had gathered on this Saturday night were Mandaeans, members of the oldest surviving Gnostic sect, one of a group of religions that originated near the first century A.D. Most of the partygoers emigrated from Iraq in the past few decades, coming from a region where Mandaeans have lived for 2,000 years.
“Every single person here tonight loves being here,” said Frank Camisi, a contractor with graying black hair who was born in Baghdad and now lives in Whitestone. Sitting at his table with his arm around his wife, he gazed proudly toward the dance floor and added, “It’s human nature to want to belong to something, and we belong to something very unique.”
Gatherings like this one, held periodically for the 300 or so Mandaeans scattered around the New York region, along with similar events around the country, go beyond giving the diaspora a sense of belonging. They also allow young members of the community to meet and to kindle the relations that will perpetuate the religion, to which someone can belong only when born to Mandaean parents.
Such events have taken on a particular importance now that the war in Iraq has uprooted most of the Mandaeans still living in their historic homeland and has threatened the enduring existence of the faith.
On this night, the crowd had gathered in celebration of a religious holiday Mandaeans call the Little Feast. The faithful, who revere John the Baptist as a great teacher, and whose doctrines share elements of Judaism and Christianity, might have commemorated the event in their homeland by dressing in white and performing ritual baptisms in the Tigris River.
But November temperatures in New York were not quite conducive to river baptisms, nor were any Mandaean priests living in the area to conduct such a ceremony. The celebration in the restaurant’s rented party room, which was decorated with fountains along stone walls and plastic palm trees strung with white lights, was a kind of modern alternative to the traditional rituals.
Though Iraq’s climate may be amenable to outdoor baptisms, the country is by no means a hospitable place for Mandaeans. As a religious minority, Mandaeans, who are pacifists by doctrine, are especially vulnerable to the unrest in Iraq. Most have fled the country for neighboring Syria and Jordan. As the small sect is dispersed from its homeland, assimilation and intermarriage threaten to erode the faith.
“I want to marry someone from this minority so I can protect it,” said Mamoun Aldulaimy, a 22-year-old who until recently was a refugee living in Jordan. In October, he resettled in Philadelphia, where he lives with his parents and brother. Gazing at the dance floor, Mr. Aldulaimy twirled a white paper napkin into the air and added, “I’m very happy to see my people all together.”
Nevertheless, home was not far from Mr. Aldulaimy’s mind. “I miss everyone in Iraq,” he said with a glint of sadness. “I hope they will all join me here now.”
Then he rose from his chair and joined in the dancing.
www.nytimes.com/
Even for an Ancient People, There’s Always Saturday Night
“We belong to something very unique,” one Mandaean said of his people.
Article Tools Sponsored By
By JAMES ANGELOS
Published: December 23, 2007
THE dancing at Ali Baba restaurant in Fresh Meadows, Queens, began before dinner was served. A tuxedo-clad D.J. spun earsplitting Middle Eastern melodies set to reggaetón beats. On the dance floor, beneath a bronze chandelier that hung like an upside-down minaret, women in long dresses swung their hips and howled celebratory shrills. Men with their suit jackets removed stretched out their arms and wiggled their shoulders as they shuffled about. Small children spun in place and ran in circles.
The few dozen revelers who had gathered on this Saturday night were Mandaeans, members of the oldest surviving Gnostic sect, one of a group of religions that originated near the first century A.D. Most of the partygoers emigrated from Iraq in the past few decades, coming from a region where Mandaeans have lived for 2,000 years.
“Every single person here tonight loves being here,” said Frank Camisi, a contractor with graying black hair who was born in Baghdad and now lives in Whitestone. Sitting at his table with his arm around his wife, he gazed proudly toward the dance floor and added, “It’s human nature to want to belong to something, and we belong to something very unique.”
Gatherings like this one, held periodically for the 300 or so Mandaeans scattered around the New York region, along with similar events around the country, go beyond giving the diaspora a sense of belonging. They also allow young members of the community to meet and to kindle the relations that will perpetuate the religion, to which someone can belong only when born to Mandaean parents.
Such events have taken on a particular importance now that the war in Iraq has uprooted most of the Mandaeans still living in their historic homeland and has threatened the enduring existence of the faith.
On this night, the crowd had gathered in celebration of a religious holiday Mandaeans call the Little Feast. The faithful, who revere John the Baptist as a great teacher, and whose doctrines share elements of Judaism and Christianity, might have commemorated the event in their homeland by dressing in white and performing ritual baptisms in the Tigris River.
But November temperatures in New York were not quite conducive to river baptisms, nor were any Mandaean priests living in the area to conduct such a ceremony. The celebration in the restaurant’s rented party room, which was decorated with fountains along stone walls and plastic palm trees strung with white lights, was a kind of modern alternative to the traditional rituals.
Though Iraq’s climate may be amenable to outdoor baptisms, the country is by no means a hospitable place for Mandaeans. As a religious minority, Mandaeans, who are pacifists by doctrine, are especially vulnerable to the unrest in Iraq. Most have fled the country for neighboring Syria and Jordan. As the small sect is dispersed from its homeland, assimilation and intermarriage threaten to erode the faith.
“I want to marry someone from this minority so I can protect it,” said Mamoun Aldulaimy, a 22-year-old who until recently was a refugee living in Jordan. In October, he resettled in Philadelphia, where he lives with his parents and brother. Gazing at the dance floor, Mr. Aldulaimy twirled a white paper napkin into the air and added, “I’m very happy to see my people all together.”
Nevertheless, home was not far from Mr. Aldulaimy’s mind. “I miss everyone in Iraq,” he said with a glint of sadness. “I hope they will all join me here now.”
Then he rose from his chair and joined in the dancing.
www.nytimes.com/
