Articles

First experiences

Dream of genies

As I was six at the time, I have only very vague memories of Naptime or Snack at my little brother’s preschool. One memory, however, does stand out. I’m not even sure what I was doing there—maybe it was a waystation between dropoff by Dad and pickup of one kid or two by Mom.

I only remember my abject delight at hearing the sound of jingling down the street on a bright spring day. The anticipation felt by the entire roomful of kids was as thick as if it were Santa Claus himself speeding down the lane.

Telling it later, I could best describe the treat in store as “something even better than Santa Claus.” Two moms came belly dancing down the street, up the stairs and into the preschool, with a clashing of finger cymbals and a tinkling of coins on headdresses, fringes and belts. I don’t remember a detail of the actual performance, but it was an impression that stuck for decades. Laced with the exotic and sensual, the experience was indelibly etched on my young memory.

“Genies” was my word for such creatures, bare-bellied and smooth, flashing with metallic and colourful regalia, and above all, changing and charging the atmosphere with their joyful noise. I can’t recall any music apart from the cymbal rhythms. If veils wafted before their faces, this was put out of my head for the moment (until it later returned as a powerful fantasy within childhood play).

The appelation “genies,” after the female genie in the bottle played by Barbara Eden in I Dream of Jeannie, somehow made perfect sense. They were beings possessed of a magical power: djinn, genius. Yet Jeannie from the sitcom was, like her 1001 Nights counterparts, enslaved to a human Master.

Upon winning an honourable mention in a Hallowe’en costume contest at school at 10, I was embarrassed to learn that the word for what I was dressed as was “harem girl” rather than “genie.” Another consolation prize was dancing (to “Turn Me Loose” by Loverboy) with my crush (got up like a pirate with a cream-coloured satin shirt) at the ensuing soc hop.

“Finally!” remarked a childhood friend, party to so many genie games, when I told her I’d taken up belly dancing at 18.

—Pamela
March 2, 2001

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