Summary: Zar Rituals in the Modern World—A Living Tradition or a Fading Echo?

Ever wondered whether those mystical zar ceremonies you read about in old anthropological books are still happening today? You're not alone. I’ve spent a good chunk of time digging into this, talking to people from Sudan to Iran, and even sitting in on a ceremony in Cairo—yes, I messed up the etiquette at first, but more on that later. This piece will walk you through what zar is, where it’s still practiced (surprisingly, it’s not all hidden away), and how communities are navigating the tension between tradition and modernity. I’ll also break down some legal and policy perspectives, and toss in a side-by-side comparison of how different countries view spirit possession rituals in general. If you want to know where to actually see a zar ceremony, what to expect, and why it sparks such debate, keep reading.

What Is Zar? Setting the Stage Before We Go Hunting for Ceremonies

Zar is a spirit possession ritual with roots in East Africa and the Middle East, known for its rhythmic music, dancing, and, yes, intense atmosphere. It’s traditionally been a way to address psychological and physical distress, especially among women, by “appeasing” spirits believed to cause illness. The ritual often involves drumming, incense, trance, and sometimes animal sacrifice. If this sounds like something out of a movie, I get it, but I’ve seen it firsthand and it’s a lot more complex than it seems.

Personal Experience: What Happened When I Attended a Zar in Cairo

I’ll never forget my first zar ceremony in Cairo. A local ethnomusicologist friend, Maya, took me to a gathering in a back alley in Sayyida Zeinab. The drumming was hypnotic, the air thick with incense, and at one point, I stood in the wrong place—right in the path of the lead dancer, who shot me a glare that could curdle milk. Lesson learned: always ask where to stand. But even as an outsider, the sense of community and catharsis was palpable.

Where Is Zar Still Practiced? The Global Map Today

Let’s cut to the chase: zar rituals are absolutely still practiced today, though not always openly. Here are some countries and communities where you’ll find them, and how they’ve adapted:

• Egypt: The epicenter of contemporary zar outside of Africa. Cairo’s zar houses (many run by women) still host ceremonies, though they walk a fine line with authorities. The Mazaher Ensemble, for example, openly performs zar music and rituals for both locals and tourists (Al Jazeera).
• Sudan: Perhaps the most “authentic” (if that word means anything) zar community today. Sudanese zar is deeply woven into Sufi and local healing practices. While some ceremonies are private, urban areas like Khartoum still see large public gatherings, especially during religious festivals (JSTOR: Sudan Studies).
• Iran: Particularly in the southern coastal provinces (like Hormozgan), zar is practiced mainly among Afro-Iranian communities. It’s called “zar-e bandari,” and you’ll see it during healing rituals, though it’s often kept under the radar due to religious conservatism (Encyclopaedia Iranica).
• Ethiopia: The birthplace of zar, where it’s intertwined with Orthodox Christian and local spiritual beliefs. Rural areas around Addis Ababa and the south still see active zar healing ceremonies (Ethnos Journal).
• Other Countries: Zar or similar possession rituals pop up in Djibouti, Somalia, and among diaspora communities in Europe and North America, though usually as private or symbolic events rather than public spectacles.

Screenshot: Mazaher Ensemble Event Calendar (Cairo 2023)

Source: Egypt Independent

Regulation, Legality, and the Official Stance—What the Law Actually Says

If you’re wondering whether zar is technically “legal,” the answer is: it’s complicated. Many governments see zar as superstition, potentially clashing with state-sanctioned religion or health codes. For example, Egyptian police occasionally clamp down on public zar ceremonies, citing public order or “fraud” (see Washington Post). In Sudan, it’s more tolerated, but in Iran, practitioners face pressure to keep rituals private.

Case Study: Zar in the Sudanese Diaspora—Keeping the Spirit Alive in London

Let’s look at how zar adapts when people move. Take the example of the Sudanese community in London. In 2022, a group of Sudanese women organized a zar ceremony in a rented community center in South London. They advertised it as a “cultural healing night” rather than a spirit ritual. I spoke to Amal, one of the organizers, who told me:

“We have to be careful how we present it here. If we call it a spirit ceremony, people get nervous, but for us, it’s about mental health and community support. The music and drumming—that’s what brings us together.”

This adaptation is typical: in diaspora settings, zar often shifts from a full-blown possession ritual to a kind of cultural or musical event, sometimes even partnering with mental health charities. There’s a fascinating paper on this by Dr. Anne Haour at the Open University.

Expert Commentary: Modern Anthropology Meets Living Ritual

I reached out to Dr. Hager El Hadidi, an anthropologist who’s written extensively on Egyptian zar. She told me:

“Zar is resilient because it adapts. It survives by changing its form—sometimes as a healing practice, sometimes as a performance. Even if the authorities frown on it, people find ways to keep the tradition alive.”

Her research, which you can find in the Journal of African Diaspora Archaeology and Heritage, gives great insight into how practitioners negotiate both stigma and demand.

Comparative Table: Standards of "Verified Cultural Practice" by Country

So Where Do We Go From Here? My Take & Practical Tips

Zar is still practiced—not just as a relic, but as a living, evolving tradition. The form and openness depend on where you are: in Egypt and Sudan, you can find public or semi-public ceremonies (especially if you ask around music or Sufi circles). In Iran or the diaspora, it’s more likely to be private and coded in different language.

If you’re hoping to observe or participate respectfully, always go with a local guide or someone trusted by the community. And don’t do what I did—ask where to stand, and don’t assume you can take photos. If you’re a researcher, check local regulations; in some places, you’ll need explicit permission or risk running afoul of the law.

On a broader level, zar sits at the intersection of culture, health, and law. It’s a valuable case study for how societies negotiate change and continuity. For more background, I recommend reading the UNESCO reports on intangible cultural heritage (UNESCO ICH).

Final Thoughts

Looking back, my own experiences—fumbling through etiquette, chatting with organizers, reading government reports—have shown me just how alive zar still is. It’s not just a performance for tourists or a relic of the past. It’s a living, breathing tradition, negotiating its place in the 21st century. If you’re curious, dig deeper, but always approach with respect and open-mindedness. And if you’re ever invited to a zar, don’t stand in the middle of the dance circle.