(Wednesday April 29, 2011)
One day we go see the police commander of Herat. He is the general in charge of the paramilitary police in the area. This is at a heavily fortified military compound outside of the city in the middle of desert-like no man’s land. Hakim, who runs the theater group we’re working with here (together with Monireh) is acquainted with him and ran into the commander the night before at a celebration of the Mujahideen Victory Day over the Soviets. He arranges for us to come see him the next day.
Approaching the compound, we stop at a checkpoint flanked by gigantic sand bags, or barrels rather, and a look-out tower made of a massive mound of sandbags. We proceed through an obstacle course of cement blocks. Then, another checkpoint where they check our van with metal detectors and a pole with a big mirror (looking for bombs under the car). Several soldiers in turn approach us to ask what our business is. Then one of them, apparently a buddy to Hakim, hops up on the side of the van, hanging halfway out, and escorts us as we drive through the compound to the office of the commander.
Tea and Theater
Upon being greeted by several officers, we are led into the commander’s office, and there he sits in full uniform behind a large mahogany desk with a flag of Afghanistan and Karzai’s portrait hanging above him on the wall. The room is huge and lined with couches and arm chairs. He is huge. We take a seat. The commander greets us from behind his desk and is quite congenial. A soldier comes in and serves us tea and bonbons. We are having tea with the police commander of Herat!
“Aha,” says the commander, when he hears about our program -- who we are and what we do --“and what can you do for the police?,” he asks. We describe for him what our show is about. Then the commander speaks for a while (I keep hearing the word “teatr”)… "Yes, please do a performance about family conflict. This is a very good thing to present to the men!," he exclaims. Indeed. And so the commander invites us for dinner this very night and to perform our show for his 500 police officers! Wow. OK. Fantastic! I was quite amazed, really. The Afghan police commander just invited us to dinner and to perform a theater show for his men – on a moment’s notice! Just like that. I just could not imagine the same happening with a U.S. Army General.
The Elusive Handshake
When we return in the evening, we are greeted by the commander wearing a white peron tomban (shalwar kameez, or tunic and pants) and holding yellow prayer beads (a common accessory for men here). He shakes Michael’s and the other men’s hands, but not Joanna or mine. One of the soldiers outside, however, stretched his arm out and gave me a firm handshake. I was almost taken aback. He must have gotten used to being around Americans. I was unsure how to approach the matter of shaking hands with men here and generally I did not offer my hand unless initiated by the man. Men and women do not ordinarily touch, in Afghanistan, not even with a handshake. We settle in the commander’s office for tea yet again and chat before dinner. The commander expresses his appreciation for our work and our coming to do this for the police. He says the police officers need to be aware of human rights – for women and children – and to know how to handle it in their work.
Paramilitary and Politics
The commander, who is a general, has been in the military since the jihad days of fighting the soviets. The police he commands are the ANCOP (Afghan National Civil Order Police). They are involved in civil order protection as a paramilitary force, sort of in between the police and the army. They are specially trained police who handle riots and attacks in addition to regular police patrols. This base is a training center as well as operating base for missions and the men here are deployed from all over the country. They only go home to their families every few months. There are some women on the base, but they mostly do cooking and laundry. Apparently, the commander is open to more women joining the force in all capacities. And, there’s a daycare center! Quite progressive.
There are two Americans on the base who join us. One is an “embedded advisor,” that is, he is a U.S. military officer who works on his own immersed with the Afghans offering intelligence advice. He teaches counterinsurgency and specializes in building trust in the community for the police, which in turn builds security. To this end, he does not wear an army uniform but rather Afghan traditional clothing and there is no big military operation let by U.S. soldiers. It’s all Afghan action (indirectly and inconspicuously guided by a U.S. military advisor); as he said, “it’s them for them by them.” They walk around, say hi, talk to the people, find out what the problems are, hand out supplies to the children, with the intent to show care and concern. It’s a policy promoted by General Petreus (although, our new friend says, it has received U.S. Army resistance) and has shown to be effective in Iraq.
We’ve been sitting in the general’s office for an eternity, it’s now going on 9 o’clock at night and we haven’t even had dinner yet! Will we even get to present a show? But finally we are called to the dining room… and then:
SHOW TIME!
We proceed to the mess hall where all the officers are gathered. The general has changed back in full uniform and everyone quickly rises to attention. There are almost three hundred policemen gathered, all in fatigues and military gear. It’s a sight to see – performing a show surrounded by soldiers with AK-47s. Luckily, they seem to enjoy it and laugh a lot. Of course, whenever the general claps, they all immediately clap as well. But they seem genuinely interested and watching with keen attention. The ones in the back are standing on the chairs and tables in order to see better. Many of them are filming or taking photos with their cell phones. Which is kind of funny – wherever you go in the world, cell phone cameras abound, even here.
One Blonde American Woman and Three Hundred Afghan Policemen
What’s funnier is that when I turn my camera toward the audience to snap a shot of the soldiers as they watch (since I am the de facto company photographer), they immediately turn their phones away from the performance to me so they can get a shot of the blonde American woman.
Indeed, it’s a bit intimidating to be here among all these Afghan military men. As we wait for the show to begin, they are all staring at me. I realize I’m not entirely comfortable meeting their gaze, looking at them with more than a cursory glance, aware that it is not the cultural norm here for women to assertively look upon men, and that if I do and smile to boot, I might give them ideas… ideas that they may already have about foreign (American) women. This is all conjecture, of course. I would have liked to speak with them one-on-one, learn about them as individuals, find out what they think of things, about the show. But I can’t really shake their hands, and I don’t speak the language. Afterwards, there was not much time to “mingle” and get a translator to facilitate communication. We have to contend with the communication inherent in photographing each other.
Hassan shared with us afterwards how one of the men expressed in response to the show: “I really miss my family!”
A Good Man, A Good Life
The show the boys present (as I have described in earlier posts) is about domestic abuse and centers on a man frustrated and angry who mistreats his wife and son. Through a journey of experiences, he has a change of heart and realizes the errors of his ways. He hurries home to begin anew with his family.
After the performance, we do a Q&A. Several policemen stand up and offer suggestions on topics for another show. Do something about arranged marriages, where a woman is forced to marry someone she doesn’t want to marry! Do a show about narcotics! Do a show about trusting the police! It’s good to see several policemen enthusiastically speak up.
Action Scene!
To top the evening off, we get a ride home in a Humvee! All the way home from the outskirts of town, through the city center, and into the little community on the other side of town, onto a small side street, which the vehicle barely fits. Escorted by a police truck with soldiers sporting machine guns. It was quite the spectacle. It was a good thing it was night and the neighborhood was asleep. Otherwise, it might have been a disturbing sight. Imagine if it had been the middle of the day, and we had come barreling down that little dirt road in a huge military vehicle. Already, the neighborhood kids, whenever they see us, shout out "The Americans are coming, the Americans are coming!"
P.S.
Boys and Girls
The boys performed for the policemen as it would have been impossible to have the girls come. They really wanted to, the girls. But imagine 300 male soldiers living on a base rarely interacting with females, and a group of a teenage girls show up in their midst. In Afghanistan. They would have been eaten alive. I joked “you want to find a husband?” “No!!!” Joanna in turn joked that they just want to go so that they can hang out with the boys and see them play. And, I realize, of course, that’s it. In their world, this is something unusual and special – the fact that they are hanging out together, they boys and the girls! It is not something that occurs normally in Afghan society. This whole time in workshops, rehearsal and outings, they girls and they boys are mixing and it’s intriguing, titillating, exciting. And the girls are at that age where they are starting to get interested in boys (and vice versa). There are definitely some flirtations going on. Hush hush!
