by William Dean
(8/29/01)
The slow moving silver nozzle paints on your skin. The lithe, brown
woman draws delicate curls and dotted lines in intricate adornment of
your body. Your body is stilled; your mind concentrating on the
eloquent caress of the henna. This is magical writing sketching
around your nipples, mouth, loins. And later, you see yourself,
branded and tattooed temporarily, an initiate in the sensual realm of
mehndi.
Like its more permanent cousin, tattooing, body painting probably has
origins going back to Neolithic times when primitive artists drew
swirls, curlicues, and animalistic images on cave walls. They also
probably painted their own bodies in mystical rites that bestowed
power over nature. Numerous cave-era burials yield skulls and bones
decorated with ochre and red clays. Certainly, there is evidence that
body adornment existed at the time of Otzi, the famous Stone age "ice
man" preserved in a glacier for 5,000 years until his discovery in
1991 in the Italian Alps. Otzi's barcode-like tattoos on torso, back,
and legs still puzzle researchers looking for the symbolic key to
unlock their meaning.
Ancient Egyptians and other ancient civilizations practiced various
forms of pictographic painting and tattooing on living human bodies
which are the direct ancestors of the modern tribal trends that are
seen everyday. The little temporary tattoos that children in past
decades "licked and sticked" to their bodies have a direct line back
to magical practices in both India, the Middle East, and North Africa.
I first experienced mehndi -- the art of temporary tattooing -- a few
-- years ago at (of all things!) a cable television conference. Of
course, most of the TV executives and network "suits" merely walked
past the booth that offered a free sample, but I'm a curious sort. I
sat comfortably and watched fascinated as a Hindu woman quickly yet
expertly squeezed thin streams of henna paste into a beautiful and
complex pattern around my wrist. I felt like a cake being frosted. I
also felt that curious sensual tingling you get when someone is
carefully grooming you and you concentrate your thoughts on the
experience.
In mehndi proper, each design carries meaning with tradition that
stretches back into time. A design may be for conferring good luck or
sexual potency or protection from evil. After the paste dries, it is
carefully rubbed off and the henna stain design may remain on your
skin for weeks, resisting regular soap and water washings.
It was a fascinating experience for me and I wanted to learn more
about mehndi. The experience itself was sensual, but I wondered if
there was more to it. Something sexual and erotic. And of course,
there is.
There are actually several strands of erotic connection with mehndi.
In India, for example, brides are still painted in this way for the
wedding rituals; ornate, complex patterns soon cover the bride's hands
and feet, perhaps snaking up her thighs; the designs enhance her
desirability and fertility with traditional Vedic verses and animal
pictographs. Bird, turtle, goddess, or god.
The other strand is perhaps more exotic. The lore claims that it was
Ancient Persians, Berbers, wandering Moslem armies, or Djinn who first
introduced body-writing to the strange Moroccan nomads of the
Sahara. Their tribal names are legend, but among them all it is the
Tuareg -- the famous blue men of the Sahara -- that captures the
deepest claim on modern senses. Wrapped in deep indigo robes and
veils, the Tuareg men are still fierce, independent, and imbued with
that "sheik of the desert" romantic persona.
Among all the Islamic lands, only here among the Tuaregs are the women
unveiled, while the men display only their eyes except among their
closest family. They are like Thomas Moore's The Veiled Prophet of
Khorassan ("Paradise itself were dim / And joyless, if not shared
with him!").
The Tuareg women are given an equality in the tribe as well, more
strongly because this is a matriarchal society. For mystical, magical
powerful spells, the women have their bodies painted with henna. This
is perhaps mehndi's darker side; a practice with overwisps of
witchcraft and love potion -- and protection from the ever-present
Djinn. All of her openings must be enchanted with counter-curses,
symbols of her womanhood, her strength and seductive prowess -- to keep
the evil spirits from entering and driving her mad.
One further strand -- again erotic in nature -- follows mehndi as full
or partial-body decoration for exotic dancers. Belly dancers and
precision-like recreators of the primitive dances of India and Arabia
are painted from face to toes, and must pose frozen while the thin
henna paste dries. Then their bodies are carefully rubbed clean of
the dried stain, leaving a complex web of reddish-brown ink that
transforms the body into Art.
If you can find a mehndi artist near you -- or a salon (there are more than
you might think!), you'll enjoy the experience of watching the designs
intricately sprawl across your skin like painted lace -- let your
imagination absorb the designs and their beauty. The brief wait while
the paste hardens and the stained graffiti is left upon your body is a
sensual experience, stimulated by the caress of the henna yet frozen
in place.
Mehndi books are readily available as are kits complete with sample
designs, henna powder, mixing instructions, and nozzle tips. For the
DYI-types, the creation of personal designs allows you to be as
raunchy, subtle, or exotic as your imagination leads you.
