The Women's Prison of Herat

    

As an introduction to our new project in the women’s prison in Herat, here is an account from my first experience in the prison in 2011 (a blog report that I never posted!).

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April 2011

One of the most beautiful and devastating experiences we had in Afghanistan was visiting the women’s prison. 

The prison is located on Prison Street.  The front gate is flanked by gigantic cement planters filled with red pelargonia flowers overrun by barbed wire. Rather symbolic.

All the girls of Simorgh Theatre have their arms marked by the prison guard with signature and date in large red permanent marker across their forearm. This is so they can get out again! And not get confused for a prisoner. Joanna and I are spared the markings, no need.

We enter the courtyard where we are to perform and the women are already gathered waiting for us.

There are little children running around. They come right up to me and surround me, unabashed, unafraid, getting close to me with their little bodies, into my arms, face to my face, and hold my hands. So sweet. They’re two, three, maybe four years old. 

The children stay with their mothers in the prison until age seven and then go to relatives (or orphanage?). It’s not clear to me who decides this, does the mother have any say? Generally, as I understand, according to Muslim law, the child belongs to the mother until age seven and after that the father takes over and the mother no longer has any right to her children. I saw a couple of girls around age 10 or 12 as well, but otherwise they all looked under five. The presence of children is startling and disturbing, but also joyous – making it less oppressive, less like a prison.  Still, it’s a prison. It’s beneficial for the children to be with their mothers, but on the other hand it must be detrimental to their psychological well-being to spend their first formative years behind bars.   

The facilities, however, are so much more pleasant than one might expect of an Afghan prison, or any prison (certainly not like jails in the US). I think I had imagined dark, dank cells with dirt floors and perhaps rats, like dungeons. But these were more like dormitories. The floors are carpeted in dark red, and the rooms are large with bunk beds and colorful blankets and a TV set. The doors are left wide open, but perhaps that’s only for our tour. Then there are the children running about. There’s a playroom for them filled with stuffed animals and toys. And for the women there are occupational activities such as tailoring, embroidery, hair dressing and weaving. Another aspect that adds to a less prison-like atmosphere is the fact that the women don’t wear uniforms, they’re dressed in regular clothes of varying colors (i.e., regular Afghan clothing: tunic with pants, or dress, and headscarf or chador (long black sheet)).

But, the inescapable truth is they are in prison. And cannot leave. And it has severe social consequences.

Our girls perform their show about domestic abuse, specifically centering on conflict between a mother-in-law and her young daughter-in-law.  Domestic abuse is rampant in Afghanistan and not only from the husband but often from his entire family (mother-in-law, brothers, uncles, etc.), and the young bride is sometimes treated as a slave. Many of the young women at the prison are there because they ran away from home – from an abusive husband and/or abusive mother-in-law. Running away from home – whether your parents’ or your husband’s -- is a crime in Afghanistan.  A so called moral crime. Some have fled to escape the fate of an impending forced marriage, or to marry the one that they love, others to get away from an abusive home. The brutality of abuse, physical and mental, is beyond the imaginable.  It is so severe that young girls and women, married off as slaves to an older man and his family, burn themselves to death.  In the Herat area last year there were about 100 recorded self-immolations. That’s two a week! And yet, if these women run away, they are the ones who go to jail. Given their circumstances, prison is a better place for many of these young women. Indeed, having shamed the family by running away, they may very well get killed once they leave prison.

And yet, they are in prison, when they have done nothing wrong but eloping with their lover whom they wish to marry, or escaping an abusive home!  They have been deprived of their freedom for nothing.  This is so wrong and deeply upsets my sense of justice.  But most everything involving women in Afghanistan will upset one’s sense of justice and fairness.

Our show is very well-received. The women laugh a lot and break out in applause, spontaneously at certain dialogue. For instance, when a character speaks to the mother-in-law in a dream and talks about how it is possible to change. This is when I wish I understood exactly what was being said when (the show is in Dari) – what prompted them to clap? After the performance, we ask for feedback from the audience. The women say we should bring the show out to the villages. One woman advocated fiercely and enthusiastically for this. Afterwards Joanna and I go to shake hands with some of the women in the audience. I hunch down to say hello, “Tashakor, khob bud”? I can’t say much more, but smile with my hand to my heart. One woman who is further back in the audience calls out: “What is your name?” Another says: “My friend says thank you very much!”

 Two little children kiss my hand with a ritual of placing their cheek, then the other cheek, then their forehead on my hand (and then kiss).  An old woman kisses my cheeks and forehead and hugs me closely and strongly.

The women disappear behind the prison door manned by two female guards in uniform. Some then appear behind the bars of a window, and our girls gather to talk to them. “Where are you from? Are you married? Children?” And eventually the question – “Why are you here in prison?”

One says she killed her husband. Or rather that is what she was put in here for. She didn’t actually do it, but was accused by the husband’s brother. And that’s all it takes. A woman has no voice to defend herself. And even if someone did kill her husband she may have had cause, considering how horribly many women are treated.  But most of them are in prison simply for running away (as described above).

The women behind the bars of the window told the girls they can’t speak further about why they’re there because they’ll cry if they do, and the guards are there (they don’t feel comfortable to speak, or cry, in front of them).

The children sing us a song. They are lined up neat and tidy in a little square. We think, “Oh, how sweet that they sing for us.” But as we learn later the song they’re singing is about being abandoned and homeless! I decide to give the children the balloons I had bought the other day and I still had in my bag.

Our girls are really affected by this visit and especially because of the children. They are visibly taken and somber on the ride home. “The children…” one girl starts to say and breaks down crying. Another girl is crying silently all the way home. This whole experience touched her, I realize, on a very personal level. She’s facing an arranged marriage, and here are all these women who have escaped forced marriages either by killing the husband or running away. She sees herself in these women, her own future perhaps. Or at the least she acutely understands and feels their plight. Her parents want her to marry someone she doesn’t want to marry, but they insist and are not listening to her. She’s been very sad the last few days. I’m told she’s asking to join us a lot on our excursions, because she wants to get away from home. She’s 17, she’s not ready to lose her freedom. That’s it, her life will completely change. And there’s nothing we can do, to help her. I wonder what’s going to happen.

Our play about a mother-in-law who treats her son’s young wife badly has a happy ending. The mother-in-law in the end understands the error of her ways and reconciles with her daughter-in-law. They find a way to live happily together. Later I learn that one of the women in the prison came up to one of our girls and expressed how much she wished her mother-in-law had seen this play. She was in prison because she had killed her mother-in-law.

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P.S.

The girl in our troupe facing a forced marriage got a happy ending too. So far. Her parents relented and she did not have to marry. She has been able to continue with the theater. And she’ll be joining us on this new project in the prison!

Afghanistan: The Drug Treatment Center for Adolescents

The first performance of our boys' troupe is at a treatment center for drug-addicted adolescents in central Herat.  As we enter the compound, there is a young child standing in the yard.  I think, surely he can’t be one of them!  But he can, and he is.  The patients are boys ranging in age from 9 to 17.  How do they end up getting involved in drugs?  They come from families where there are drug-addicted adults, and in which the children end up using drugs as well (opium, heroin).  Indeed, I saw a documentary on Afghan women who would smoke opium to soothe various ailments and give it to their babies to put them to sleep so that the women could work undisturbed.  In other situations, children who are working are given drugs by their employers and once they are hooked they get paid in drugs so that they’ll keep working more and more.  The treatment center runs ads on TV to bring awareness to the issue and has field workers out looking for whoever might need help.  At the center the boys get treatment and vocational training, such as tailoring, together with classes in literacy, computers and painting.  They youths stay at the center for six months.  I did not find out exactly what happens to them after this.  The young ones go back to their families, but are the families still drug-addicted or did they get treatment too?

We do the show outside for 40 boys all dressed in blue tunics and pants.  It’s a good show with great energy – kudos to our young performers! – and everyone seems to really enjoy it.  We ask if they have ever seen a play before.  None have.  Theater doesn’t really exist in Afghanistan in these times.  It’s a complete novelty for them to have something played out before them in live action.

What is the show about? As with the presentation by the girls' troupe, the boys' show addresses family conflict but focuses on the role of the husband.  It tells the story of an angry and frustrated man who mistreats his family with verbal and physical abuse.  While away on a journey, the man witnesses other ways of living and being.  He sees men who act with authority and yet with patience and kindness, and how they as well as everyone around them are so much happier.  Little by little, the man sees the errors of his ways and decides to make a change.  In great excitement, he returns home to start anew with his family.  The story is simplistically laid out here, but in its theatrical presentation it is quite affecting.  Our boys are as talented as the girls and play their roles with great commitment.  The goal is to present to the community effective and positive ways to handle conflict within the family and how everyone in the family benefits (including the husband) when there is support of each other.  We discuss with the boys the difference between the men portrayed and which behavior works best for a happy and productive home and society.

Did they like the show?  Bale! (Yes!)  Do they think it’s a good message?  Bale!!  Is this a good way to bring information to the community?  Bale!!!  What else should we do a show about?  Drug-addiction!  Indeed.

 Click image to view larger

As this is a show with the boys for the boys, Michael (being a boy) leads the workshop section, which leaves Joanna and I free to observe.  There is great excitement as Michael engages the group in a physicalized energy game and some silly clown antics.  Afterwards, one of the boys breaks out in an impromptu dance performance in our honor as guests.  Someone plays Iranian music on a cell phone as accompaniment.  The boy dances in the same style I’ve seen girls do, apparently men do the same movements, although this boy is definitely effeminate (Joanna suspects he is a ‘dancing boy’*).  Another boy joins in.  There is a fun festive feeling of spontaneous joy and celebration in our shared exchange.  And I think to myself: these are the moments I live for.  This is why I do this work! 

Khoda hafez! Time to go. Joanna and I start to leave, waving goodbye and turning to go but we turn back again and a silly game ensues between us and the boys of turning back and forth while attempting to leave.  I suddenly realize I don’t have my shoes on, and burst out “oh no, my shoes!!?”  This is apparently hilarious to the boys, and so I start to play with lifting my feet up looking at them and then looking around wondering where in the world my shoes could be.  I’m genuinely confused, but then I ham it up a bit too.  The boys follow, finding all this very funny.  Crazy foreigners!  Well, I can’t help but clown around a little!  (And I can’t help that someone took my shoes and put them away at the front entrance.)

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* For information on dancing boys, see this article: The Dancing Boys of Afghanistan

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HAITI: Performing in the camps

We also presented an entertaining and uplifting show for the camp communities.  It's called The Flying Head!  Based on an Native American folk tale, it's a show about a village that is terrorized by a horrible monster and one woman who stands up and rallies the community together to defeat it.  The "monster" is made out of blue tarp and plastic bags and looks quite silly.  The whole show is silly, but with an underlying message of hope and resilience in the face of diversity as long as you take personal responsibility to find a solution and come together as a community. 

My favorite performance, I have to say, was at a little school in Jacmel, where the students jumped up and down screaming with excitement at our antics!  It was amazing! This happened whenever we did any of our acrobatic tricks and they went wild when Morlon launched into his sprightly slapstick silliness.  It was such a surprise visit (arranged very suddenly and last minute), and I have a feeling they had never seen anything like it before in their lives!

We performed and did workshops with the kids in about five different camps in the Port-au-Prince area:  Camp Matissant, Camp Bobin and Bristout, Camp Jean-Marie Vincent; and also Camp Pinchinat in Jacmel.

One of the first camps we visited was Camp Pinchinat.   Although in most camps I have seen people live in fairly small tents or just tarps hung over some sticks, in this camp there were large green military tents but each tent apparently houses up to five families!  Crammed together in this space, there is no privacy whatsoever.  There have been a lot of problems and a lot of tension in the camp.

We walk through the camp,  and a woman sitting outside of her tent spots us and shouts out from twenty feet away, "I am hungry, give me money!"  A strong sense of dependency and entitlement has set in.  You are a foreigner, you are rich, give me.  A foreigner in the camp is associated with material aid.  Certainly no one expects a foreigner to come into the camp just to play!

As we walk down the path, I see a little girl come running towards us with outstretched arms, full of excitement.  She runs straight up to me and throws her arms around me!  Then she continues on with us, holding my hand.  So many of the children climb up in our arms, clinging to us and not wanting to let go.  There is such an apparent need for love and attention.

  

More notes on our camp experiences to follow....

Adventures on the road in Myanmar!

Here is the continuation of my experiences in Myanmar:

PART II

It’s time to get this show on the road! May 15 we embark on a tour to the Mon and Karen States east of Yangon. We are going to perform for children in the monastic schools.


Monasteries run schools for poor children of the neighborhood who cannot afford regular public school (which charges tuition) and for children taken in by the monasteries because they have no parents or their parents are too poor to care for them. Sometimes these kids come from far away remote places and, therefore, live permanently at the monasteries, even those who still have parents. Many parents are away working at the border to Thailand where there is a lot of trade, and the children were living with relatives until they came to the monastery. So, essentially, these children are orphaned. They are “economic orphans” as some have termed it.

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When we first arrived in Myanmar, we were told that our initial plan of doing a tour around Mon and Karen States was not going to be possible due to security concerns with the increasingly sensitive political situation. Just in the past month, the situation has gotten worse with several bombings in Yangon as well as Mon State. The upcoming elections have created a lot of tension.

We are eager to bring our work to as many places as we can, and our Burmese friends were gung-ho to go as well. They know the local authorities well in the particular areas where they had planned for us to travel to and are not worried about getting permissions. (In Myanmar, foreigners, and locals as well, are not able to go just anywhere; you need to receive permission from the authorities, and especially if you wish to do such a thing as perform! Officially, public assembly of more than five persons is prohibited.) The embassy tells us to wait and see until after May 6, which is the deadline for all opposition parties to register for the elections and which might trigger unrest. In the meantime, plan on doing a local tour around the Yangon area. In actuality, what appears to have been a concern is the U.S. State Department visit coinciding with our being here, which could possibly cause friction. But everything goes smoothly and things are calm, so in the end we are informed it is fine to resume our original plan. Yey!

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Off we go in our hired van, all seven of us plus a driver. We leave early in the morning on the 15th and drive all day until finally we arrive in the late afternoon – at the beach! Wow. Nice. Our first stop is the small beach town of Setse (southern Mon State). The plan is to do a show in the early morning in the midst of the market. How fun! Unfortunately, the permission initially given is revoked and we are informed we must leave the area.  Because our performance in Setse was nixed, it is deemed prudent to forego performing in the bigger town next door as well, Mawlamyine, because it’s the same regional authority presiding over both, and while we’re at it, it’s best to skip going to Kayin (Karen) state altogether, because of the checkpoint we have go through. Things look a little tense. So it is decided that we will head straight back up to Kyaiktho (pronounced ‘Chai-toe’) and see if we can still do some shows there. I sure hope so!

But first we take a dip in the ocean! Mmmm… it’s warm like bath water! After hot and dusty days in Yangon, and a long drive, it sure is refreshing to be by the sea. And how nice to wake up on the morning of May 16 in a quaint little seaside hotel (ok, a run-down rickety shack) right on the beach on what just happens to be my birthday! Good timing!

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Upon arrival to Kyaiktho after about a four-hour drive, we luckily get the green light to perform. We make our way up a little red dirt road to a small monastery compound. Stories of Buddha on giant placards line part of the way. A monk blows a whistle and after a minute children emerge from all directions, amass and trot off to the performing area, which is on a small hillside under a giant tree. We perform for about 200 children or so and they are a great audience, curious and excited.

After the show, we chat with the Sayadaw (meaning senior monk, or abbot, in Burmese), and Joanna asks him what issues we ought to address in our show, what do the children need to learn? Going to the toilet, says the Sayadaw. Many of the children come from the jungle and just go in the bushes, they need to learn to use the toilet. Unfortunately, I remark to myself, the toilets they have, at least the one I used, are so filthy it would be more hygienic to just go in the bushes! The toilets need to be kept clean if they are to advance good hygiene.

On this note, at another monastery, the Sayadaw affirms the importance of teaching the children to wash their hands but informs us that the children often have no soap to use (and sometimes barely water). Well, not much use preaching hygiene if the elements to facilitate it aren’t provided. So, we are teaching the lesson of the importance of washing one’s hands to the kids, but we apparently also need to teach the lesson (to the adults) of obtaining soap and water! Is soap really that expensive that they cannot afford a few bars? Well, some of the people in these areas can barely afford rice, so I guess in the end they have to make a choice whether to eat or to wash. In the future, perhaps we had better bring soap with us and hand out to the kids as part of the show! But that soap will, of course, only last so long -- I wonder what an effective long-term solution could be for this hygiene dilemma. Something to think about. Any ideas?

Our second day (May 17) we drive to Kayin (Karen) state, after all. The monastery phoned and insisted we come. Apparently, the Sayadaw there is greatly respected and exerts a certain degree of authority. So we are able to perform without a problem. We had a little adventure getting through the checkpoint, which I will not elaborate upon here, except to say we made it safely through, not to worry! Before going ahead with the show, we are invited to meet with the Sayadaw in his headquarters on the top of a big hill.  While enjoying a discussion, the Sayadaw looks over at me and cracks up.  He makes some comment about me and laughs.  ???  Apparently, he thinks I have a very funny face.  I don't have to do anything, he says, just looking at me, the children will laugh and be happy.  So, there you have it -- I've had it confirmed by a senior Burmese monk that I'm a natural clown!  Not bad. (I think.)

The monastery here is a huge compound containing several large school buildings. One of them has a mural on the wall with the Kayin national flag and an inscription in the Kayin language behind a small free-standing blackboard. Many students who come here only speak Kayin (as opposed to Burmese).

The Kayins are an ethnic group that has been embroiled in a fight for autonomy for over sixty years. Sporadic fighting continues and the ongoing insurgency has resulted in thousands of refugees and many orphaned children. Outside of the one main city, Hpa-an, where we are, there is very little infrastructure and limited educational opportunities. Thus, many children are sent to a monastery, such as this one, in order to receive schooling.

We visit another monastery (back in Mon state), very small and very much poorer, and upon arrival I notice a little girl standing in the doorway. I approach to say hello. The other couple of kids around us are curious and spontaneous and playful, as kids are, reacting to my goofiness as can be expected. She is very serious, and her expression does not change. She remains in the doorway, not moving, not reacting. I wonder what has happened to her that she is so sad? During the performance, I keep an eye on her, sitting in the front row, to see what effect the show might have on her, to see if she’ll laugh. Her face lights up in a smile for a moment. I am informed that she is newly arrived from a remote area of Kayin state. Many of the children here come from a mountainous jungle region, which is extremely difficult to access. In order to make their way here, the children have to walk for many hours just to get to the nearest road for transportation. Therefore, the children do not go back during school holiday, they stay here at the school year-round. These are the children we perform for today. (It happens to be summer in Myanmar, so school is out and many children have gone home – most to help their parents work in the rice fields or sell goods). This particular child’s mother had recently died and her father remarried a woman who apparently did not treat her kindly. They left to work at the border, as is quite common, leaving her behind. Finally, she was sent here. She does not speak Burmese, only Kayin. So sad to see her so sad! And I wish we could have stayed longer to play a little more. I hope that our visit lit a little bit of light inside her heart.

While in Kayin state we go to a second monastery as well, a smaller branch of the main one. This one is out in the countryside and we drive for quite a long time. I didn’t realize this when I jumped up in the back of the pick-up truck! It’s a long, bumpy ride in the hot sun. As we drive, I suddenly hear music playing and we come upon a group of kids in the middle of the road who surround our vehicle asking for donations. In return, we get a cold drink. Just what I needed! At the school, we perform inside with all the kids seated on the floor, dressed in sailor-style white and blue school uniforms. By the time we start the show, the room is packed. There are probably four hundred children and adults in attendance. As part of an improvised pre-show, I say hello to the kids and decide to demonstrate my newly acquired expertise in Burmese (How are you, my name is Anna, nice to meet you, etc.) But all I get back are blank stares. It turns out, they don’t speak Burmese! So much for that. Luckily, at lunch I had picked up a few Kayin phrases which I had written down in my little notebook. "Asso lassan!" (Hello! in Kayin, spelled phonetically). This goes over much better. How are you, I continue. Applause! Now we’re talking!

I have so many stories, but this will have to do for now. More may follow later.


All in all we perform at seven monasteries in Mon and Kayin states, one in Bago on the way back to Yangon, and four times in the Yangon area, for a total of almost 3,000 children.

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All photos ©AZ

This blog report on Myanmar is also posted on the Bond Street blog:  http://bondstreetblog.blogspot.com!

Update on my adventures in BURMA = MYANMAR

This May I have had the privilege of being a U.S. Cultural Envoy to Burma (Myanmar), as an ensemble member with Bond Street Theatre.  
Bond Street Theatre has for many years traveled to refugee camps, areas of conflict and post-war environments around the world using the performing arts as a means of humanitarian outreach and education.  They have in the past collaborated extensively with theater companies in Afghanistan and India.  It’s exciting to be joining forces with Joanna and Michael on one of their international outreach projects!

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PART I

We took off on May 1, 2010 and arrived in Rangoon (Yangon) Sunday evening, May 2. We have had a very busy schedule so there has not been much time to take notes and to post updates on the blog! Internet access is very sketchy.

Myanmar, as the country now calls itself, is run by a military dictatorship.  Any dissent is suppressed and only some internet sites are accessible. Usually Gmail is ok, but even that gets an "access denied" at times. Unfamiliar sites such as the Bond Street Blog are by default blocked. But sometimes there are ways around it.

Background on “Burma” vs. “Myanmar”: When the junta took over the regime, they decided that Burma would henceforth be called Myanmar, and the capital city of Rangoon would be referred to as Yangon. Burma and Rangoon were names ascribed by the British during their colonial rule. Burma actually refers to the Burmese people, a specific ethnic group in the country, whereas there are many other ethnicities as well, and of course they do not wish to be referred to as Burmese nor as living in "Burma". Thus, the name of Myanmar is a general name that includes all peoples of this country. It is the name that the people of this country prefer to use to refer to its nation and its language. However, because it was the military junta that chose to name it thus, and as its regime is not recognized by the U.S. and the West, the United States officially still refers to the country as Burma. Calling it Myanmar would be to legitimize the regime. For myself, I'm confused as to which name I ought to use. But since my Burmese friends -- or, rather, my Myanmar friends -- use the term Myanmar, I will use this term as well.

There is much to say about the political situation here, recent history, and the current circumstances of living affected by this, but I will delve further into that later.


Joanna, Michael & Anna with
Public Affairs Officer Richard Mei and family

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What We Are Doing:
We are working with four local artists who are interested in exploring and developing further the state of theater in Myanmar. As Joanna mentioned in conjunction with Bond Street’s last trip, there is no real theater scene here. There used to be more theater, but with the oppressive regime, it has withered rather than flourished. Our Burmese friends wish to resurrect and develop a vibrant, active and contemporary theater scene that addresses the issues of the day and looks to the future.

At this point, I am not going to specify by name our Burmese artist friends for security reasons. This may change. Suffice it to say they have been hired as Theater Specialists by a local artist organization and have started a new theater company. They are all men ranging in age from 19 to 44. (Soon we hope some Myanmar women will join them!).

We are here to share our theater experience with the Burmese artists, to inspire them to develop new ideas and possibilities for Burmese theater. As they requested, we brought several books on theater that they might wish to read and draw from (such as Impro by Keith Johnstone, The Viewpoints Book by Anne Bogart, Theater Games for the Classroom by Viola Spolin, and Tricks of the Trade by Dario Fo.
And on a further level, we are here to collaborate and develop a theatrical piece together.

At first, I was under the impression we would be holding workshops sharing theater techniques and approaches with them; that is, I thought we would be teaching more. But as it turns out, we jumped straight in to rehearsing and exploring how we can collaborate on putting together a theatrical piece, and we have been full up with this. The emphasis has been on developing a theatrical piece on a theme we decided to explore. And we have been hard at work everyday!

The Serious and the Funny:
Our Myanmar colleagues suggested we build a piece around the theme of waiting. This is a big issue in Myanmar, and certainly something Westerners can relate to as well -- waiting for the bus, waiting at the doctor's office or the emergency room, waiting at the DMV, always having to wait in one way or another for something to be done or to get to do something or to be approved by the powers that be so one can go on with one's life and go about one's business. And then on a more philosophical and existential level, one might ponder life as one long wait for death to arrive…!

In Myanmar, this is magnified tenfold. The authority is a military dictatorship, so one has no choice but to be nice and comply - or else. You are at the mercy of whoever happens to be in authority - whether they feel like keeping you waiting or approving something, or not. One of the artists we're working with is currently trying to obtain a passport (and as a former political prisoner, he is especially at the mercy of the authorities’ whim), so this situation very much hits home for him at this time.

We explore various situations and scenarios on this theme and start to piece something together from improvisations. Our focus – the usual approach of Bond Street Theatre – is to use a physical theatrical language (rather than verbal) - that is, to find physical actions to express ourselves and the situation, and dynamic movements that will create compelling visual imagery. Little by little, something of substance begins to take shape. Eventually, as we continue our collaboration in the future, our exploration will develop into a full-fledged theatrical production to be performed in both Myanmar and the States.

We are having a great time working together. In our warm-up exercise, everyone is really well connected and in sync and creatively expressive. Our Burmese artist friends are starting to be a bit more assertive in rehearsal, offering ideas and suggestions, which is good. We want ideas to come from them! Especially as we are working on depicting Burmese life. They’re the experts on this - not us! We start to consider further what the theme is, really, that we are exploring. What do we want the show to be about ultimately? Beyond waiting, what is the reality and the experiences of Myanmar life that we may wish to explore? We discuss the history and current circumstances of Myanmar – and let possibilities ruminate.

Apart from this - our "serious" show - as we call it for want of a better word, we are also working on creating another show geared towards children that we can perform in the monasteries. This is our "funny" show to bring joy and laughter to the kids. We incorporate some of the classic slapstick of Bond Street’s repertoire together with several Burmese songs that our friends teach us. From this, a narrative theme develops based on an issue we are asked to address: washing your hands before you eat! The importance of this is something many children here do not yet understand. Washing your hands after you go to the toilet and washing your hands before you eat. As a result, kids may get stomach sickness and walk around with infected sores all over their bodies. It is possible that some children in poor neighborhoods are so used to dirt and garbage everywhere that they have developed an immune system against this from early on. Nonetheless, not washing is still a serious issue.

The first ten days, we spent workshopping and rehearsing: in the morning, our "serious" show, and in the afternoon, our "funny" show for the kids. Then it’s show time!

We first try our show out for the local neighborhood kids in an empty dirt lot, where the young men like to play soccer in the afternoons.

We perform in the morning to avoid the heat. Let me tell you, it is hot, hot, hot here! We sure picked a great time to come - the hottest time of year - and not only that, it is apparently the hottest summer in over 40 years! 

By the time, we are finished with our performance, we are soaked with sweat. To gather the crowds, we parade through the neighborhood pre-show and make an announcement – our pals on megaphone and me in tow making a spectacle of myself as usual (on purpose this time). I try out my limited Burmese: (phonetically) “Mingala-ba! Ni kaun la shin?” [Hello! How are you?] And it works - yay! I get hello and responses back. There aren’t too many people out and about and I don’t see many children. But when it’s time to do the show and I walk onto the lot, there are already about 50 kids gathered to watch. Where did they all come from?! Word travels fast. From the time we start to the end of our show, the audience grew from 100 or 150. It’s a good first show. The kids laugh a lot, especially when we make mistakes – maybe we’ll keep them!