LOKA HUMANA social outreach theater: theatre

Showing posts with label theatre. Show all posts

Showdown in Sudan (#4)

On the day of our actual performance, the whole event was shut down. The imam of the main mosque had denounced the event on Holy Friday, the day before, and that’s no small matter in Sudan. There were those in the government completely against this entire exchange. I was in midst of teaching an additional class in clowning at another location when the rumors reached us. I gathered my students together and told them what might be happening. And I said what mattered most was the experience we shared working together over the past 10 days. They said they would perform the show somewhere no matter what and send me the video for me to see. We arrived at the performance space with a mix of trepidation and excitement. I saw military police stationed at the entrance and thought, "Uh oh, this is getting serious." Our performance was in a huge parking lot next to a major conference hall. It turned out the President was next door at a conference! This was one of the reasons given for why we could not proceed with our performance. Nonetheless, after much negotiation between our producers and government representatives, the show was back on again.

However, all the hold-ups delayed everything and we started really late. My students waited and waited for their chance to present. (There were many acts in the entire performance evening, including music, rap and hip hop dance.) As we were getting ready we began to dance to the music playing. One of the government representatives approached us and said "no dancing."

(The evening before, a government rep had told us all the women must wear headscarves during the performance or they would cancel the whole show. Several of the women were very upset by this and one flat out refused. They compromised by wearing a hat and tucking in their hair. I wore a headscarf in solidarity. Otherwise, as a foreigner I was not obliged to wear one (unlike my experience in Afghanistan). Indeed, not all Sudanese women wear headscarves, although I would say it’s the practice of about 99% of women. Covering your hair is not explicitly required, but it can be arbitrarily enforced by the authorities. Recently, a Sudanese woman was arrested for not wearing a headscarf and is on trial facing a possible punishment of 40 lashes.)

And then, finally, it was my students' turn. They got on stage, began their performance, and they rocked it. There were over a thousand people in the audience (I was told as many as 3,000) who clapped, whistled and laughed in recognition of what my students were presenting. After all the apprehension, this was so affirming and satisfying to witness, and I was so excited for the performers.

And then I was told we had to cut their performance short! The authorities mandated the whole event end at a certain time. The clock struck when my students were only halfway through their performance. I was the one who had to physically get up there on stage and stop them.

The students were absolutely devastated. After working so hard for 10 days, after all the build-up and anticipation, they were finally getting to perform and have their say -- and then to have the rug pulled from under them! They got so upset they refused to leave the stage and were near ready to riot. It was getting serious. They shouted at me: “We leave this stage only because of you, Anna, because of you; otherwise we refuse!” It was heart-wrenching.

In the midst of this the organizer tells me, “You must leave now!” and I was immediately whisked off to the airport for my scheduled flight. I had no opportunity to gather the students and talk about what happened and say goodbye. Normally I would take time for a debrief, which is something very important to do at the end of a project, especially one as intensive as this one. It was really hard to leave in such a state of incompletion. I quickly handed a stack of certificates to Hashim for distribution -- and he reached out and hugged me. This set off a chain-reaction of spontaneous embraces. No words, simply the most deeply heartfelt hugs. It affirmed for me that even in the face of this terrible breakdown our bond was not broken. It is difficult to put into words the mix of emotions of the deeply meaningful exchange that had taken place between us, so suddenly cut short.

* * *

I have since been in communication with them. They are in good spirits and ready to perform the piece again elsewhere. They said: "We are artists and we are strong, we have a message to show the world and you showed us how to give it out."

This was truly one of the most rewarding experiences I’ve had teaching and traveling abroad, and trying to make a difference in the world. It’s been a privilege to experience Sudan and its people, and to get to work with these beautiful and talented individuals. I hope to be able to come back soon again. If I'll get another visa... There has been a lot of controversy in the local press and government in Sudan about our program. Our supporters in the government are still defending the program – they are the ones facing the consequences now (among them Mr. Obay who turned out to be an ally and advocate) – I hope they prevail!

For more photos, go to: YES Sudan Highlights

Drama in Sudan - continued (#3)

To begin a dramatic exploration of the issues, we gave the students an assignment to create a phrase and movement that represents one of the chosen themes. What they created in this 10-minute exercise was amazing. Here is one movement piece:

The students also created several deeply affecting pieces on the issue of cultural identity. In one piece, a woman stands up in the audience and cries out “Who am I?” She runs to the stage, approaching her fellow citizens who turn away. Another approaches with same question. Little by little they come together and collectively ask the audience: Who are we?” They then burst forth with great urgency, demanding: “Who are we?! Who are we?! WHO ARE WE?!”

In another piece, a group of Arabs enter dancing a traditional Arabic dance and meet a group of Africans dancing a traditional African dance, very different from the former. They see each other, stop and warily circle around each other. Eventually they couple up, one African and one Arab, and all come together. Out of their union, three babies are born. The children are confused. Because the north and the south are divided (as the country has recently been). They do not know who they are and where they belong. Are they Arab like their father, or African like their mother? They collapse in a state of fear and despair. It was quite poignant and profound! The piece then developed so that the children torn between the two in the end find that they are enriched by both, and thusly declare “We are Sudanese.”

At the unemployment office

The students also created a compelling, and comedic, scene about the dire unemployment situation for young college graduates and how you can only get a job if you have a connection. Additionally, they developed a piece about the lack of acceptance in society of artists and innovators; how there is no space for new innovation and no appreciation for artists. This was a recurring theme in their discussions. These young men and women want to push boundaries, and make room for new ideas and new possibilities. As artists, they want to be free to express themselves.

At one rehearsal what began as a simple physical warm-up erupted into a spontaneous dance party. There was such wonderful energy and expression! "Perfect, this is how we end the play!," I exclaimed. I wanted the show to end in a moment of celebration. No, no, we were then told. This is not appropriate. The students cannot move like that on stage in front of the public. We were also told, the boys and girls cannot hold hands. The students protested that this is what they do in life, they do it at the university and it's fine. I advised that we acquiesce on this one. We were lucky the government representative had said nothing so far about other aspects of our presentation.

In developing our play, aware of the sensitivity of the issues, we focused on movement and imagery and incorporating comedic elements. We made sure to include positive perspectives and solutions. Two clownish narrators begin the show and provide commentary and comic relief, guiding the audience along the journey, which begins with a declaration of love for Sudan. We then present three problems: Unemployment/Freedom of Artistic Expression/Arab vs African. We end on a positive note of togetherness: We are all Sudanese and together we can make Sudan even greater.

There was a lot of debate about how to present things, what would be appropriate and what adjustments we might need to make. Even as we cloaked our message in comedy and mime, it was still obvious and possibly too obvious. Talking about problems at all was just too controversial. At the end of our last rehearsal, one of the organizers came and voiced concern about what was safe to say. Despite warnings, the students were adamant to proceed with what they had created. They said, “This is what we want to say.” “These problems exist. Others have already talked about them, we’re not the first.” “We are drama students, we are in the arts – this is what we do, we must express ourselves.” They said to me: “You asked us what the problems are. So we are telling you.”

I assumed the students would know how far they could go. After all, they live in Sudan, I don’t. But as rehearsals progressed, it became clear they don't know what the boundaries are, or they don't care. This was challenging to navigate. I felt responsible because I was directing them and leading them. I was not sure how serious the situation was going to get. At one moment it seemed it wasn’t a big deal. The next I had the impression there could be major consequences. For the students, and for us. I half-expected an Argo-like escape to the airport at the last minute. On dress rehearsal night rumors floated of possible protests and government-placed fire trucks at the ready to hose us down at any moment. Would we even be able to do the show?

Drama in Sudan (#2)

On our first day, close to thirty men and women showed up eager to partake in our workshops. Most of them drama students from the University of Sudan. My co-teacher Lydia had held auditions for a select few to join, but others heard about the program and came too. Some were students in other disciplines but who wanted a chance to explore theater. A few others were older professionals equally eager to benefit from this unique opportunity: to have an exchange with American artists. We couldn’t say no. In the end, we had 34 students.

Moubalara!
From the first moment, I was so impressed and so excited to work with these students -- they were really talented, expressive and 100% gung-ho. It is immensely satisfying to teach students who are hungry to learn and who appreciate everything you give them – and who give you all the more in return. Over the course of 10 days, we worked intensively together, all of us greatly invested in the creative process and each other.

Now, imagine having only 10 days to train and create a show with a cast of 34 people! We had before us a Herculean task. Add to the challenge the fact that we were not producing an already written play. Our play was an original ensemble creation. This means we draw the material out of the group, developing it and shaping it together. The process was helped greatly by the fact that the students were so creative and so willing to play. My mantra for the workshop became: Koulakoum moubalara! Everybody is amazing! In the end what emerged was a powerful and poignant piece -- not fully developed nor professionally seamless -- but nonetheless a compelling performance, about 40 minutes long.

This is not to say that there weren't bumps along the way.

Movement exercise

As talented as this group was, they still have a lot to learn, and focus was often an issue. Making good theater requires a tremendous amount of focus, energy and discipline. We spent the first couple of days working with the students on group movement to strengthen their cohesion as an ensemble and develop their awareness, sensitivity and concentration. Working in such a large group is challenging, and it’s natural to lose attention – even for seasoned professionals. But as rehearsals went along, it was time to get tough. But as rehearsals went along, it was time to get tough. During run-throughs of the play, many of the students would wander off, away from the stage area, instead of being in their designated spots ready for their next moment on stage. I kept herding them back like cats. At a certain point, I got so frustrated I shouted at them in a fit of fury: "You want to be a professional actor, you need discipline!!!" (I was channeling Debbie Allen in Fame: "You want fame? Well, here's where you start paying: in sweat!"). "Focus, be ready and give your all."

I don’t think I’ve ever done that before, quite so intensely. But I was so passionately invested in their performance, because I knew how much it mattered to them to get to perform and have their say. I had seen their potential and knew how great they could be. The students told me, "We will give our all on performance night." I countered: "Yes, but to get there you must do it now in rehearsal. You must cultivate your performance with 100% engagement from the start!" This was our last rehearsal, there was a lot of tension built up, and the whole session culminated in a declaration of commitment, passion and love for our work together and each other. In ten intense days, we had created a really strong bond. We were working hard on something already complex and challenging -- and to this was added an underlying sense of urgency. Our endeavor was becoming increasingly controversial.

The Great Challenge
We were creating a performance piece on a social issue. Initially, the theme suggested by the YES Academy producer was national identity (in the wake of separation from South Sudan), but Lydia and I left the question open-ended. We asked our students: We are here to create a show on a social issue relevant to you. What do you want to talk about? What is important to you? We wanted to hear from the students their own thoughts and ideas. And they had a lot to share.

From among all the topics of discussion, what emerged as the main issues were:

Voting on the theme

Unemployment – no work for young graduates
Cultural identity – are we Arab or African?
Acceptance of the arts – society does not accept creativity and innovation
and most fervently,
Freedom of expression.

They yearn to speak their minds as artists, to express their passions and points of view. These were all issues our students felt strongly about and that they feel are of great relevance to the Sudanese people. It was interesting to learn about the cultural confusion. Indeed, it’s a real identity crisis for many. Ethnically the majority of Sudanese are African but culturally the majority are Arab (in North Sudan). Some look very Arabic (Middle Eastern), but most look African (black) or a mix. All speak Arabic and are mainly Muslim. There’s great tension between the two, and African-looking Sudanese often feel discriminated against.

But the most burning issue among the students was freedom of expression.

And here was our great challenge: how create a show in which the students can speak out on what matters most to them – social justice, economic opportunity, spiritual fulfillment, freedom to express -- without criticizing the government? I was tasked with doing social theater but under no circumstances to criticize the regime! Bringing up any social issue can be viewed as criticism. The last thing I want to do is stifle my students. But I also don’t want negative consequences!

Diplomacy in Sudan (#1)

In November I spent two weeks in Sudan teaching theater and here, finally, is my full account of this amazing experience. It was an intensive time that proved deeply enriching and meaningful. I worked with a group of young men and women burning to express themselves creatively within a challenging political and cultural environment.

Quick country background: Sudan is a country in northeast Africa, south of Egypt, that recently split into Sudan and South Sudan. Sudan has been ruled by one regime since 1989, which instituted Sharia law, and has been branded by the U.S. as a sponsor of terrorist organizations. The country has suffered financial sanctions for over 15 years. This past September the government cut subsidies, prices rose sharply, and people took to the streets in protest, which regime forces quickly quelled, reportedly resulting in 200 deaths. It is a somewhat precarious time for Sudan...

Enter our cultural diplomacy program. For this project I joined American Voices and its YES Academy (Youth Excellence on Stage), a cultural exchange program focused on countries emerging from conflict and isolation. The YES Academy Sudan program was sponsored by the US Embassy and the Sudanese Ministry of Culture and took place in the capital Khartoum. The program offers training in American cultural forms such as jazz, rap, hip hop and musical theater. This time they included a social theater component: I was brought on to teach physical theater to university students and children and to create a performance piece on a relevant social issue. We had 10 days to hone their skills and to create and publicly perform a theater piece.

This was the first high-profile artistic exchange between the U.S. and Sudan in many years, or perhaps ever -- and we were watched closely by the Sudanese government. They sent a government “minder” to keep an eye on us. I imagine they wanted to ensure we were not about to corrupt their youth and foment a revolution. The government representative’s name was Obay. I am not kidding. And he was from the Central Thought and Culture Office. (You can’t make this stuff up.) We were suspicious at first, and a bit nervous about his presence. But Mr. Obay in the end turned out to be an ally who strongly advocated for our program to the rest of the authorities. There were apparently factions in the government who were not so keen on our presence.

A representative from the Ministry of Culture, who was our main sponsor, also came by to see how things were going. He seemed genuinely concerned about how the rest of the world views Sudan, and appeared to think that this artistic exchange will have a real influence on improving Sudan’s image and relationship with the U.S. I’m glad that he values the arts and its potential power! He asked me to tell everyone that everything you heard about Sudan isn’t true. (They are not terrorists.) So if you see Obama, be sure to let him know.

For myself, what I value is not the political impact, but the human connection.

I worked with a group of wonderful people and we had a truly beautiful exchange. Indeed, everyone I met in Khartoum was friendly, hospitable and good-humored. One of the things that touched me about Sudan was how keen the people are to connect with Americans and for us to have a positive view of their country. I was met with a huge smile and the immediate question: “How do you like Sudan?” and “Why don’t you stay longer?” Next time I will! This was a whirlwind and a roller coaster ride. I did not really have the chance to fully experience all of Khartoum and Sudan. There’s so much to learn still. Especially about the theater in Sudan.

Coming up: Working with the drama students -- koulakoum moubalara!

Bond Street in Afghanistan again!

Bond Street is back in Afghanistan, just in time for the Kabul National Theatre Festival, Sept 22-26, 2011 and staying until Nov 2.

This time our Theatre for Social Development project continues with a new exciting theater group called White Star, based in Kabul and comprised of Kabul University graduates who are eager to breathe new life into theater arts in Afghanistan and bring important social information to the community through compelling and uplifting spectacles.

I am staying behind and holding up the fort back in NYC this time around. You can follow along the journey by reading my good friend and colleague Kayhan Irani's blog, who has joined Joanna & Michael on the road. Check out these posts: Kabul Goes to My Head, Bigger than Me, Sisters Are Doing It, Not Just a Banana.

And updates from Michael and Joanna can be found on the Bond Street Blog.

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Afghanistan - The General and his Men

(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. I’m as much a novelty to them as they are to me, if not more.

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!

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

Afghanistan: The play's the thing!

Having finished the workshops sessions, we embark on a period of play development and rehearsal with a select group of our young performers. Our mission is to create a show about a relevant issue, which we will perform out in the community as a way to bring information to people in the most effective way -- straight to the heart and minds through entertaining live action played out right before you, that is, theater! The goal is to bring the show to villages out in the provinces, but it depends on security and which areas are deemed safe. Our performers are all Hazara, an ethnic group often discriminated against by Pashtuns and Tajiks. We ask our young performers if they would be comfortable performing in a Pashtun village. One of the girls blurts out, “Sure, we could do it, but afterwards they’d probably hang us!,” and they all giggle. Then Rohela speaks up and tells us: “When we choose to do theatre it is our task and duty to reflect on the problems and pains in society. It is not important who is the audience, if we have an opportunity to affect a good change in people and society it is our task and duty to do it." Rohela is thirteen years old.

I am amazed at the talent, skill and dedication of these young performers, most of whom are only 12, 13, 14 years old! There are two girls who are 17 and 19, and then the boys are 16-21. During the course of our work, I forget how young they are, because they are so good, so dedicated and so professional! And they are tackling serious subject matters of family conflict and domestic violence, acting out beatings and abuse. But they are wise beyond their years and fully aware of the problems of their society. And, sad to say, many of the wives for whom this is a reality are only 14 years old (or younger)! Innocence of childhood is shattered early in this country.

In discussion with Monireh, the Afghan director, and with our young performers, we decide on the themes for our show. We are actually creating two separate shows. One by the girls to be performed for women, and one by the boys for the men. This creates flexibility to be able to perform in more restrictive places, and also gives us the opportunity to approach a theme from two different perspectives. Since we are supported by the U.S. Institute of Peace, we have been requested to do a show about conflict resolution. We decide to address the issue of family conflict and domestic violence.

The girls’ show is about a mother-in-law who abuses her daughter-in-law with constant put-downs and beatings. This is actually a big problem in Afghanistan. It is a pattern that gets repeated time and again. Often a young girl is married off to an older man who abuses her along with his grown sons and all other relatives around. Or a girl gets married to a boy -- both of them too young – with the boy trying to establish his manhood and beating his wife at the behest of his mother. A man might get a young wife just to be a slave to his mother. The mother was herself a young bride once who was mistreated by her mother-in-law. And so she perpetuates a behavior that has become ingrained. It is difficult to understand why women would stand against other women rather than stand together in this patriarchally oppressive society, or why a mother would discard her daughter, but it has to do with economics. A daughter brings no economic benefit, since women do not work, so she has no value (but to be a household slave).

In our story, the mother in law suffers from the bad memories of her own life as a young bride terribly abused, all the while lashing out at her young daughter-in-law, purposely getting her in trouble with her son, the husband, and beating her. One day, a friend comes to visit, catching her in the act of mistreating her daughter-in-law, and the friend berates her for it, telling the mother-in-law of her own misery having done the same. The friend’s daughter-in-law set herself on fire and killed herself as a result of all the abuse (this is a common occurrence in Afghanistan, I’m aghast to say!), now her son left her and she is all alone. The friend reminds the mother-in-law that she once was a young bride too. Slowly the mother-in-law realizes she is doing the very same that was done to her, and after some struggle, she decides she must and can make a change. In the end there is a reconciliation with the daughter-in-law. They realize standing strong together and supporting each other is a better way of living, and as a result, the son/husband also has a transformation.

- Photos from rehearsal -

The young wife gets harrassed
by some guys on the street,
and then accused by the mother-
in-law of enticing them

Rohela as the mother-in-law

To develop the show, we start our young actors off with a simple scenario and let them improvise around it, playing with character and action. They make our job easy as directors, because they are so creative! Of course, they have a lot to learn yet about theatrical presentation and how to make strong, physical choices on stage, but they are impressively adept already. Such clever dialogue, improvised on the spot! And funny little character quirks. In less than two weeks, we have a half-hour play fully developed and ready to go – and it’s amazing how much our work and our actors have grown. Madiya and Hasti who play the two narrators have become a knock-out clown duo. They bring the audience along the journey and provide some comic relief. And they’re really funny! Marzia has really found solid strength in her portrayal of a man. And Rohela is truly an amazing actor – intensely expressive as the mother-in-law, showing both nasty cruelty and vulnerability. Her transformation in the moment of reconciliation with the daughter-in-law is full of so many emotions. It is a very touching scene. (I just can’t believe this young actor is only thirteen years old!)

Mother and daughter-in-law reconciliation

[Click on photo to view larger]

I hope Rohela can continue doing theater, and the other girls, too. But the risk is that in a few years they will be married (off) and that will be the end of it. To encourage their families and the community to accept theater as something good, indeed, to show that it is something that can bring income to the family, we are paying the girls (and boys, too) a fee for participating in the workshops and for their work as performers. See, theater brings economic as well as social benefit to the community!

For the first performance, we invite the performer's families and friends as well as all the workshop students. We present the girls' and boys' shows and then we have a certificate ceremony for everyone involved in the workshops. It is great to see the smiles on the parents' faces!