Ever wondered why certain African and Middle Eastern rituals feel so visually striking? Zar ceremonies—healing rituals rooted in Egypt, Sudan, Ethiopia, and stretching to Iran—are a prime example, famous for their vibrant attire and symbolic objects. This article unpacks the actual items, clothes, and jewelry involved, mixing field observations, researcher interviews, and even a little personal confusion from my own attempts to document a zar gathering. Along the way, I’ll highlight expert views, real-life mishaps, and the sometimes hilarious misunderstandings that come with “outsider” research. If you’re digging into comparative ritual studies, anthropological fieldwork, or just want a first-hand peek into what makes zar visually and spiritually unique, you’re in the right place.
Plenty of online guides and academic texts describe zar in vague terms—“colorful robes” or “special jewelry”—but rarely break down the specifics, nor connect them to broader international standards or practices. If you’re prepping a documentary, writing a paper, or just want to avoid the embarrassment of misidentifying a zar necklace as a generic amulet (guilty!), this is the deep-dive you need.
My first zar event, in a Cairo suburb, left me scrambling. I’d read that the main participants—often women called “sheikhas” or “mamaat”—would wear “bright clothing.” So, I expected something like a festival. Instead, I walked into a room full of layered, patterned dresses, intricate beadwork, and big metal anklets that clinked with every dance step. My notes from that day are full of question marks: Is that silver, tin, or something else? Why so many bells? I later learned from Dr. Huda Lutfi (American University in Cairo) that every item has meaning, sometimes even a “trade” origin story. So, let’s break it down with real details and a few hard-won lessons.
1. The Zar Dress (“galabeya” or “tobe”): In Egypt and Sudan, the main garment is a long, loose-fitting robe—usually cotton or silk, and always colorful. Some groups favor reds, others blue or green. I once mistook a plain galabeya for everyday wear—until a participant pointed out the specific pattern (zigzagging triangles) linked to the “Red Zar” spirit. She laughed at my confusion and said, “It’s like wearing a football jersey—you have to know the team.” In Ethiopia, the dress is often a “habesha kemis,” white with colored woven borders.
2. Headscarves and Shawls: Every woman covers her head, sometimes with multiple scarves. This isn’t just modesty: the scarves are tied in ways that signal their ritual status. In Sudan, the “tarha” is often embroidered with sequins. In Egypt, I noticed green scarves at ceremonies dedicated to healing spirits, while for exorcism-type rituals, red or black dominated.
3. Jewelry: Not Just for Show
1. The Drum (“tabl” or “dof”): This is the heartbeat of zar. In Egypt, a large, deep-voiced frame drum sets the rhythm for the entire ritual. I tried to record a session once, only to realize my cheap phone mic couldn’t handle the vibration (the sound is THAT intense). Sudanese ceremonies often feature both drums and tambourines, while Ethiopian zar uses smaller, higher-pitched drums.
2. Incense Burners (“mabkhara”): Brass or clay censers filled with frankincense, myrrh, or local resins. The smoke isn’t just for “ambience”—it’s said to attract or appease the spirits. I once coughed through an entire ritual, only to be told, “If it doesn’t sting, it’s not working.” (Source: Mariam M. El-Nour, Sudan Notes and Records).
3. Knives, Swords, and Mirrors: Some zar groups (especially in Iran and Ethiopia) use knives or swords, sometimes waved over participants’ heads or placed in the ritual circle. Mirrors are used to “see” or reflect away spirits. I once saw a sheikha hold a mirror up to a weeping participant’s face, then spin it around, chanting—a moment both eerie and oddly comforting.
4. Food, Drink, and Animal Offerings: Ritual meals are key. In some Sudanese zar, a goat is sacrificed, the meat cooked and shared. In Egypt, sweets and dates are common. I learned (the hard way) not to refuse food—doing so is considered disrespectful to the spirits.
You might not expect a healing ritual to have international “standards,” but zar’s practice, recognition, and tolerance vary by country—tied to local laws on religion, health, and even trade (especially when ritual items cross borders). The World Customs Organization (WCO) and UNESCO both note the significance of ritual objects in cultural heritage protection (UNESCO, 2010).
| Country/Region | Legal Status | Key Authority | Recognized Ritual Items | Reference |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Egypt | Gray area (folk practice, sometimes discouraged) | Ministry of Culture, local religious councils | Drums, incense, ritual clothing | Boddy, 1989 |
| Sudan | Folk practice, sometimes criminalized | Religious police, Ministry of Culture | Drums, beads, animal offering tools | Boddy, 1989 |
| Iran (South) | UNESCO Intangible Heritage | UNESCO, Ministry of Culture | Drums, swords, specific textiles | UNESCO, 2010 |
| Ethiopia | Protected as tradition | Ministry of Culture & Tourism | White dresses, beads, drums | Pankhurst, 2012 |
In 2016, a Cairo-based zar leader (“mamaat”) tried to import special drums from southern Iran, arguing these were needed for a festival. Customs held the shipment, citing lack of “verified trade” paperwork—because these were classified as “cultural items,” not musical instruments. After weeks of wrangling, the Ministry of Culture intervened, and the drums were released, but only after she promised not to use them for “public” rituals (source: personal interview, 2018). This incident highlights how “verified trade” means something different in each country—what’s traditional in Iran is “potentially subversive” in Egypt. If you’re planning to import or research zar items, always check both UNESCO and local cultural protection laws.
Dr. Huda Lutfi, historian and ritual music specialist, once told me: “Most people photograph the color, but miss the function. A bracelet isn’t ‘just pretty’—sometimes it’s the spirit’s calling card.” She’s right. I once spent an hour trying to catalog every necklace at a zar, only to learn halfway through that half the “ritual” items were actually gifts from previous ceremonies—each with its own story and meaning.
Fieldwork tip: If you’re ever invited to a zar, ask before you photograph or touch anything. In one memorable gaffe, I picked up a beaded gourd, thinking it was a prop, only to discover it was a family heirloom (and accidentally insulted three generations of women).
Don’t assume all shiny objects are “magic.” At one Ethiopian zar, I saw a plastic bangle and asked if it had spiritual power. The group burst out laughing—“That’s for my granddaughter, not the spirits!” There’s a fine line between sacred and personal in these rituals.
Also, be wary of over-interpreting color: while some shades have consistent meanings, others change by region, family, or even the mood of the sheikha. One Sudanese expert, Amina El-Gadi, told me: “If you try to make a color chart for zar, you’ll go mad.”
So, the next time you see photos or attend a zar ceremony, remember: every item—from the clang of anklets to the haze of incense—serves a purpose, both practical and symbolic. But the “rules” of zar attire and objects aren’t fixed; they shift with region, family, and even international law. If you’re a researcher, ask before you assume. If you’re a traveler or student, be ready for surprises (and maybe a coughing fit from the incense). And if you’re documenting or importing ritual items, check local and international guidelines—what’s protected heritage in one country might be contraband in another.
For deeper study, I recommend starting with UNESCO’s registry of intangible cultural heritage (link), and Boddy’s classic book Wombs and Alien Spirits (JSTOR). If you want raw, real-life accounts, check out the “Zar Egypt” Facebook group, where practitioners share stories and even post photos of their ritual getups—just don’t assume you know what every bead means!