Afghanistan: The workshops and our amazing students!

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We are partnering with a young theater company here in Herat called Simorgh (which means 'thirty birds' based on a Sufi legend about a great flock of birds on a journey to enlightenment, along the way bird after bird drop out and in the end only thirty remain...).  Simorgh is forging ahead to build a future for theater in Afghanistan, a daunting task and what they have already accomplished is quite the feat.  But more on the company later, now on to our talented youngsters!

For the first nine days here in Herat, we have been doing workshops with Simorgh's young company members and students, mostly girls age 12-20 and also some boys. They are so amazing! I am really impressed with their level of imagination and creativity and expressiveness. These are kids who have not had much exposure to theater as a medium in their culture (indeed such activity is generally frowned upon, and theater really doesn’t even exist). As children they are taught to be quiet, unnoticeable and have no opinions, especially the girls – and yet they are so spirited and jumping right in to play, game to try out whatever we throw at them. Some of the newer girls are very shy, but as the workshops progressed we could see that they got more comfortable and felt more free to express themselves, in action and in words.

On the final day, we had a conversation with the youngsters and asked them about their experience: what did you enjoy about the workshop, what did you discover, and how can it be useful to you in your lives? How do you think theater can be of value to the community? I was blown away by their responses! They are so young but already so wise.

Theater, they tell us, serves to reflect our society and its problems in order for us to better see ourselves… Zainab points out that after working on different characters, she now feels she can better understand people, and this is how theater can be useful: to help us understand each other. Mahbouba said that she discovered how she can connect with people, beyond her small circle of friends – through theater she can make a connection with the audience and thereby with people in the community.
Zahra describes how men traditionally have more power than women in the society, but in this workshop she felt equal to the men, everybody on the same level, free and comfortable. Marzia points out that she even forgot the boys were there!

The fact that both boys and girls are working and playing together in the workshop is not without controversy. One girl, unfortunately, was not allowed to continue because her brothers discovered there were boys in the workshops, and even though her mother had agreed to her participating, the brothers as men had the veto power to decide what their sister may or may not do. On the final day, she nonetheless snuck out of the house and joined us for a last chance to play.

Marzia loved yelling her name out, throwing it far over the mountain, because, she told us, it was the first time she had ever said her name out loud, and it felt so good to know that “Yes, I am Marzia!”

Little Wahija liked the stilt-walking best. Why?, we ask her. “Because I stand tall and feel in control of everything! It makes me feel more confident.” Wahija is a very small girl, she is twelve years old but really looks eight. Everybody loved the stilt-walking. It’s amazing the power such a simple activity can have. And everyone loved the acrobatics too.

Mahbouba tells us she really saw value in the exercise of passing the mask that transforms. It’s the same in life, she points out, because when one is in an argument with someone, they pass on to you their angry mask which you take on, but you don’t have to keep it, you can change it to one of joy before you get home!

Wow. I have to say I am shocked and awed by their astute insights. And these were just a few examples. It is so affirming to hear how enthusiastic they felt about the work we’ve done together, how much they got out of it, how eager they are to continue, and the insights they gained. It makes me feel like we truly have offered something worthwhile and made a difference. This moment to me was the culmination, the highlight, of the entire project. (And this was less than two weeks into the program. Who knows what amazing things will happen in the next few weeks!?)

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Then we ask them what the problems are that make it difficult to do theater in Afghanistan, and they all shout out in unison: “Everything!!!”

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Afghanistan: Another day in Jebraeil

Another little missive from April 10:

Hello,
Today had a day off. Good, cuz I was sick all night. It was probably the home-made yoghurt the father made for me. But didn't last too long.


We went for a walk around the neighborhood and down the street with the market and little shops. I had my camera with me and we were taking pictures. I bet they never had tourists here before! We definitely stirred up some attention. But all in a good way. A man in his breadshop called us over to take photos, and we checked out how they made bread – they bake it deep in a hole in the floor and then lift it out, flat and round and hot and fresh – and we got some to eat. Mmm, naan! As we continued on, a man here and there would come up to Michael to engage in conversation and ask where we're from and whenever we would stop to chat, a crowd would gather to check us out. (I noticed they never addressed me or Joanna; and I assume they didn’t because that would be inappropriate, as in this culture men are not supposed to talk to women they do not know on the street.)  School had let out and the street was filling with little school girls in ‘nun’s habits’ eating ice cream, and soon a bunch of them were gathered around us, giggling and whispering, and following us down the street like we were the Pied Piper.  But whenever Joanna pulled out the camera they hid their faces in their hijabs. You can't take pictures of women, not even when they're little girls!


As we got home, the neighbors' kids were out on the street playing and we yucked it up with them again, as we had before, it's become a game of making faces and playing monster. This adds to the novelty of our presence, I’m sure, because I imagine no adult here, and definitely no woman, would play like that with them and make funny movements and faces -- on the street! Crazy foreigners!  After we had entered our house (behind a large iron gate, most Afghan houses are hidden behind a wall and gate), there was a loud banging. I opened up, and there were three of the school girls again. Don't know how they found us (we had left them behind further down the street), but I guess it's not that difficult, since we're the only foreigners in town. Come to the market with us! they shouted. Come, let's go! Now? Yes, now! Well, maybe another day, ok? We were actually quite tired at this point, and really needed a nap.  Still, I would've been game to go, but I can't go off by myself, even in the entourage of little school girls. That was so funny, though, and sweet, that they were so excited at meeting us that they came to get us to go to the market with them. Badan mebinim! (See you later!)


Later in afternoon, someone was coming over to fix the refrigerator that wasn't working (although they had just bought it). We were told the man was Taliban so we better stay in our rooms and not show ourselves. Well, the man was Pashtun, and to our hosts (who are Hazara) any Pashtun man who wears a turban is Taliban, which of course isn't true, but I guess it's good to play it safe!


We also spoke with a young man who was here in Herat on visit, but works down in the Helmand province (next to Kandahar) as an interpreter for the US Marines. He said it was very dangerous, for him as someone working for the Americans, and for us if we wanted to go there, because [finger across throat], they'll behead us all. And it doesn't help that he's Hazara. They don't like us cuz we're foreigners? Joanna asks. Pashtuns don't like anyone who's not Pashtun, he says.


Another fun day in Afghanistan!

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Afghanistan: Hello from Herat!

Update from April 7:


Salam! Chestor asti? Khob astom! Here I am in Herat, and am picking up some good Dari phrases. After a month of living here, I’ll be speaking like a native. Not quite. But little by little, able to do some simple communication.


We are living with our theater hosts’ family. Monirah, the director of Simorgh, the theater company we're working with here in Herat, is fantastic. She’s 26 years old and has already produced several plays and films, together with her husband Hakim. Well, actually they’re not quite married yet, though they finally got engaged, a bit of a scandal here. She’s a free-thinking modern young woman, but is having to adhere to local customs (which she gripes about). To that end, she dresses in the chador whenever she is out on the street, like all women here. This is basically a large sheet, black or with white flowers or sometimes grey, swept around the body and held tight with the hands under the chin, so only the face shows. There are still women who wear the blue burqa, too. When inside, all women (and girls over 9) still wear a head scarf if there is a male present who is not close family. So because Michael is in the house, her mother and herself and her younger sister wear head scarves, but otherwise they wouldn’t. Joanna and I don’t bother when in the house. Since her father said to me: “You’re like my daughter!” I figure we’re family now and I don’t have to. And Michael is family to us too (me and Joanna). So there. But the grand father came for a visit the other night, and the father ran up to me quickly and said: “Anna, Anna!” and gestured to put my head scarf on. Because the grand father is very old school, very conservative. He does not, by the way, approve of Monirah’s choice of husband (to be), and has not spoken to the family for a long time.


In any case, the family is very welcoming to us, the father is really great and good-humored, and the mother is sweet. They cook us fabulous Afghan food. We are eating like kings -- yummy vegetable dishes, salad, yoghurt and great bread. We eat on the floor on a plastic table cloth (called the ‘sofra’), that’s the Afghan way. And drink lots of green tea – wherever we go, we’re offered tea, even in a shop.


We are in a new suburb to Herat called Jabraiel (it's being built as we speak, everywhere partial structures in process of construction). It’s where all the Hazara live. The Hazara are an ethnic people in Afghanistan and are very much discriminated against, especially by the Pashtuns (who consider themselves the only true Afghans). The Hazare are supposedly descendants of Djengis Khan, and have Asian features. The day after we arrived was a holiday and Monirah’s family and many many others went to a picnic area near a mountain. There some Tajik guys took a photo of a Hazara girl (and you do not take photos of girls!), so her brothers asked them to stop and to delete the pics; some soldiers came up (who happened to be Tajik too) and suddenly opened fire, and two random Hazaras got killed. This was extremely upsetting to Monirah, who started crying when she heard. It’s distressing because this kind of thing happens a lot. Of course, it didn’t help that we were in the midst of an intense political discussion about the state of Afghanistan and its future, as she got the news.

The day we arrived is when they had protests because of the Koran-burning. However, it was pretty small here in Herat (although later I was told there were up to 3,000 protesters and that is still quite a crowd). We were advised not to hang about town for a couple of days. But everything is fine. Things are peaceful here. It’s down in Kandahar, and in the east, Jalalabad, and now up in the north too, Mazar-i-Sharif, where the Taliban are causing trouble. We walk down the street and nobody bothers us, although we got lots of looks. There aren’t any other foreigners here, so we are quite a sight. And Joanna and I are not wearing the chador-sheets, although we of course wear long tunics and loose pants, or long skirts, with head scarf. People stare at us like we’re aliens, men, women and children alike. Some looks may appear a bit disapproving and hostile, from some men in particular, but mostly it’s just shock and awe. In general, people here are friendly and welcoming.


We have started teaching workshops, and are working with a group of very talented young girls, age 12-20, and some boys, too. It is really fantastic that there’s a theater group here, I must say, and with so many girls, and that their families let them come and be part of it! Considering how conservative and traditional the area is, one might expect any such activity to be entirely suppressed and certainly if involving girls. For sure, engaging in theater here is not without controversy, without its risks and problems. Theater is certainly not considered a respectable activity here, let alone profession (nor did it use to be in the US or Europe, and perhaps still isn't) and definitely not something respectable young girls should partake in. Women are not supposed to show themselves (off) in public, so to be on a stage and be looked at – unthinkable! And who knows what kind of untoward activities they’ll have to engage in… Moving their bodies – scandalous! Being loud and expressive – outrageous! And, God forbid, intermingling on stage with the opposite sex. At Kabul University where they have an acting department, there is not one single female acting student among about 200 male students. In fact, Monirah's sister Tahira is just now entering the university and she will be the first female acting student ever! Go Tahira!

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Afghanistan: Welcome to the Land of the Brave

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Coming in to Kabul, we fly over craggy snow-covered mountains.  These are the Hindukush, and I can almost touch them. Then the mountains lose their peaks and turn brown and sandy. Groupings of walled compounds form geometric patterns on the plains. Are they meant to hold animals or people? I can’t make out any houses. But everything’s the same color, mud and sand, and blends in. When we land we are surrounded by the mountains, and greeted by a gigantic sign that reads: “Welcome to the Land of the Brave.”

As we drive into the city from the airport, we pass distressed or ruined buildings mixed with many new structures under construction. And lots of billboards advertising things. Even a digital one with filmed commercials! Which seems incongruously modern. Most buildings are simple drab one-story structures, and the roads are of dirt and stone.  And there are donkeys pulling carts.  But also plenty of fancy cars.  I see some women still in burqas, and men in traditional clothing (long tunic with loose pants and turban or traditional cap, or the pakol wool hat made famous by Massoud, the Mujaheddin 'Lion of Panjshir').

Most women wear a scarf loosely slung around their head with some hair visible in front. That’s not so strict compared to what I’ve seen elsewhere in the Muslim world where the head scarf is tightly wound around forehead, cheek and chin. From burqa to a loose scarf is quite a jump. But, as mentioned, there are still women wearing the burqa. At the airport, there was a young girl without a head scarf and sporting Mahnolo Blanik-like high heels, looking very hip and beautiful. She was next to an equally hip and handsome-looking young guy in jeans and T-shirt. The new Afghan generation? I wonder if once she went outside she put on a scarf. I put mine on as I stepped off the plane.

I’m not getting much of an impression of the city as a city at first. I think we’re still winding our way in to Kabul when suddenly we stop: here we are at the hotel. Huh, where? Seems we’re in the middle of nowhere.  This is Kabul? Apparently we are already right in the center of the city. But the road is still dirt and stone. We’re in front of a non-descript building with a little door on the side – would never guess this was a hotel! Perhaps this is a good thing. Hotels have been known to get bombed.

Next day we go to the Ministry of Economy and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs so that Bond Street Theatre can register as an NGO (Non-Governmental Organizations, which most humanitarian orgs are). These buildings are more stately and there’s also a newly constructed shopping mall. Soldiers and police are stationed in the area holding machine guns, with one mounted on top of a truck. A gigantic photo of Karzai flanked by children graces the side of a building.

Later in the afternoon, we go for a walk in the neighborhood where we’re staying, which is in the Shar-e-Naw section of Kabul. There’s a park and a cinema at its entrance. Men hang out on the street corner as money changers, waving large bunches of bills. Apparently they are legit. We go in a little clothing shop to check out the wares, and the shopkeeper offers us tea. Wherever you go, you always get tea. On our way back, we stop at a breadmaker’s shop on the corner. There are piles of flat round “nan” (the traditional Afghan bread, which kind of look like pizza without any toppings) piled up in the window. The shopkeeper is sitting in the window too, while behind him young men prepare more nan.  I want some, I exclaim, and take out my dictionary so I can ask for bread. The old man puts one large round nan in a bag and hands it to me. He waves with his hand and won’t take any money. How much, I try to ask, consulting my dictionary again. They all laugh and he good-naturedly waves his hand again. Oh, it’s a gift! Tashakor!

We eat it right away as we walk down the street, it’s so fresh and warm, mmmm! Then turning onto the street to our hotel, we come upon the kids begging whom we had seen earlier and I give the rest to them. The next day three other street kids follow us, one of them the same boy I had seen before, still smiling and sprightly with lots of charm. I can’t shake them and eventually start goofing with them – since the boy keeps talking to me and I have no idea what he is saying, I start making the same sounds back for fun, speaking gibberish, which they all find very funny so we play with this for a bit. Then I make 'batman' eyes with my fingers, and he reciprocates by turning one of his eyelids inside out and excitedly gesturing for me to look, “Madame!” Eww! He giggles. When we pass a street vendor, I decide to get them each a plate of dumplings (served with tomato sauce). They’re happy, we shake hands and I go on my merry way with Joanna and Michael.

We’re on our way to a dinner meeting and figured it’s close enough we can walk, and I’m pretty sure of the way. No problem. Unfortunately, I end up leading us all astray into a no man’s land of desolate streets in the complete opposite direction from where we should be. And it’s getting dark. Uh-oh. That really was not so smart. Luckily a friendly soldier and a nice young Afghan man on a bike come to our rescue and lead us down to a main thoroughfare where they get us a reliable cab. It is not advisable to take taxis as foreigners but it is better than walking the streets of Kabul in the dark! And the adventures have begun.

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AFGHANISTAN!

I'm in Afghanistan!  Once more onto the breach...!  This time, I am traveling together with Joanna and Michael of Bond Street Theatre and we are forging ahead to bring theater to isolated communities in Afghanistan in partnership with the Afghan theater company Simorgh which is based in the town of Herat.  Our focus is conflict resolution in the community.  We aim for peace in Afghanistan, one play at a time!  We will be here from March 27 to May 7.  Here is the press release to give an overview of the project.

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FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE


THEATRE BRINGS NEWS TO RURAL WOMEN IN AFGHANISTAN

Bond Street Theatre, New York’s Pioneer Artistic-Humanitarian Theatre Company, Receives US Embassy Support to Use Theatre to Reach Isolated Communities

New York, NY, March 15, 2011 - Bond Street Theatre returns to Afghanistan this month to help revitalize Afghanistan’s theatrical arts, and promote the use of theatre to bring information on health, civic rights, and other issues to areas of high illiteracy (90% for women, 63% for men, UN Report).

The 18-month Theatre for Social Development Project, supported by the US Embassy in Afghanistan and the US Institute for Peace, involves month-long training sessions with four select theatre groups in Herat, Kabul, Jalalabad and Kandahar in creative and administrative skills. The goal is to build the capacity of local theatre organizations to provide educational services on an ongoing basis to their communities, and carry information to isolated areas, with special focus on women and children.

The gap in access to information is particularly acute in poor and rural communities, and among women who are more apt to be illiterate and isolated from news. Theatre is a lively and effective means to present information in an understandable visual and verbal manner.

The Bond Street Theatre team – Joanna Sherman, Michael McGuigan, and Anna Zastrow – departs March 27 to begin work with Simorgh Theatre in Herat and returns May 9th. Having conducted arts-based programs in Afghanistan since 2003, the New York-based theatre company stands out amidst the country’s most committed cultural ambassadors.

The Theatre for Social Development program will bring mobile theatre performances to some of Afghanistan’s most isolated regions, and provide creative and motivational training for women and youth, and a platform for public understanding of crucial social issues.

The theatre arts also serve as an effective means to ease the traumatic effects of war and poverty by providing a voice to the voiceless, a safe space to explore the issues, and the mouthpiece to share information and personal stories. Programs that stimulate creative problem solving and self-expression are scarce at a time when the country most needs a visionary new generation.

Integral to the project, Bond Street Theatre is creating a Training Manual to be published in 2012 that will offer artists and aid organizations a wide range of theatre-based methods applicable to development programs.

This program is made possible by a generous grant from the US Embassy in Afghanistan (Department of State) and the United States Institute for Peace, an organization dedicated to preventing and ending international conflict and promoting the field of peacebuilding.

Bond Street Theatre's History in Afghanistan
Immediately following September 11th, a Bond Street team headed to the Afghan refugee areas in Pakistan to entertain and uplift children in the refugee schools.

While in camps, Bond Street met Exile Theatre, a group of Afghanistan's finest actors who had fled the Taliban. The two groups began an eight-year mutually beneficial relationship that led to their critically acclaimed production, Beyond the Mirror, depicting Afghan life in wartime as told through first-hand stories. The performance was presented in Japan, Afghanistan and USA (2005 and 2009).

"The first collaboration between an Afghan and an American theater company, it has a quiet authority, even delicacy, that is truly powerful," stated Margo Jefferson in The New York Times.

Bond Street's Artistic-Humanitarian Relief Work since 2003 has demonstrated a firm commitment to the Afghan people and their future. Their work has included programs for girls, women, children and teachers in Afghan schools and orphanages, work with Kabul University theatre students, and educational programs for over 10,000 children in remote villages in northern Afghanistan.

Bond Street Theatre, founded in 1978, draws on the physical performance styles from many cultures to create its original theatre works. Recipient of a MacArthur Award, the company also receives governmental and foundation support, and has performed in major theatres and festivals worldwide. The company is dedicated to theatre that crosses borders and bringing theatre to areas of conflict, crisis and poverty.

For more information or to schedule an interview in the US or in Afghanistan, please contact Olivia Harris at 212.254.4614 or olivia@bondst.org.
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