Buenos Aires (Argentina), the 9th May, 2010


Medhat Salah Gomaa -
the excellence of the egyptian accordeon forgotten in Buenos Aires

My friend Souhair (Souhair Nemesis, one of Oriental Dance pioneers in Argentina and a great teacher until today) told me about the best accordionist player she had ever heard: Medhat Gomaa (cousin of my very own favourite dancer: Souhair Zaki).

When Silvia - the friend who took the time to show me a bit of Buenos Aires hidden treasures - mentioned his name, I jumped from my chair and flew away with my bag, leaving from the stylish - parisian style coffee-shop where we were having dinner towards the syrian restaurant Medhat Gomaa attends.
Silvia followed me as we entered a dark place full of lebanese, syrian and armenian strange people.
My goal was to meet Medhat - the musician I had heard so much about - and listen to his accordeon through his hands and heart. This was worth the treap into this restaurant.
We ended up spending the night at the restaurant talking to Medhat and trying to convince him to come to Cairo, if only for a visit. Having him as an invited artist in my orchestra would be a dream for me and an enormous pleasure to my own musicians who seem him as a legend.


Besides the immediate tenderness I felt towards Medhat - the truth is I have a thing for musicians...they are my partners, indeed - there was another character who deserved my attention: a man/boy with down syndrome who seems to be in the scene of oriental restaurants of Buenos Aires for years. He's famous between restaurant owners, musicians and dancers as well as a passionate, all present audience and orchestra member.
He was having dinner by our side.

He talked with enthusiasm to the musicians on the stage. He also talked with his own food (the baba ghanoush seemed to be his favourite dialogue pal) and he, suddenly, got all dressed up with the kind of turbans men use in Saudi Arabia.

Then he approached the orchestra, listened with full attention to the percussionists and requested a tabla that he played with full certainty of himself.
After the tabla show, this incredible character danced with gusto to an Om Kolthoum song and impressed the whole audience - including me - with his delicious shimmy and head rolls imitating Khalleegi dancers.

No pretensions or pressures. No fears. Just dance.
I wish I could do it like that.


I also wish I could receive Mr. Medhat Gomaa in Cairo.
It doesn't hurt to try. It doesn't hurt to dream about it, does it?