HAFLA

I love parties. Any kind of party. I especially love haflas. So when I got an invite to a hafla last weekend, I was all anticipatory for many reasons.

I have not seen the hostess for a couple of years. The major changes in her life are: she's moved twice and she's a mother.

The other ladies I rarely get to see because we circulate in different professional and social circles. It was therefore a treat to get together at all, never mind at a hafla.

There was the food, the drinks, the sweets and most special at haflas, there was the middle eastern music. And there were the dancers, every one of us. There is something indescribably intimate when bellydancers dance for the enjoyment of each other. There is the luxury of freedom to express that is not accorded in a public performance.

Then, there is the inevitable newsy girl-talk. There was so much to get to: scandals to examine, gossip to analyse, sources to verify, rumours to dispel, intentions to dissect, friends to defend, foes to villify.

By night's end, truth and trust were restored. There was a collective sense of triumph...

I love parties. I especially love haflas.