Afghanistan: New Courage to Get Out the Vote thru Theatre

An update from the field from Olivia :

Hello from sunny - actually, a bit rainy today - Kabul, where we just finished a week of pre-program training workshops for the Voter Education and Fraud Mitigation Project. Every morning this week from 8-12:30, we have been leading workshops for 2 members of the Nangarhar team, 2 members of the Kandahar team, and 8 members of the Kabul team in the tools necessary to implement this project from now until the elections next April.

The project has many parts: 1) a series of educational and mobile performances to spread crucial election information to Afghan citizens and engage them in community dialogue about the issues that matter to them in the presidential elections; 2) Leadership Workshops for youth that engage young people (16-22 ish) in discussion about why voting is important and the value of democracy; and 3) engaging election officials and independent monitors as allies to share information and findings.  Because of all these moving pieces, this week of workshops went by like a flash trying to communicate all the necessary information!

Before I arrived, Michael and Joanna had a series of meetings in Kabul with the Independent Election Commission, Ministers, and others to let them know about this project. They are excited about the project’s potential, and we have partnered with the IEC in the 4 provinces where the teams are performing.  That is good news for the local teams, who have access to more voting information through this partnership.

The workshops focused on the content of the shows, the post-performance activities, the evaluation measures for the project, and the curriculum for the Leadership Workshops. I can hardly believe that the week is over and I am writing about this in the past tense!  We worked quickly this week, but it hardly feels like work to be in a room full of people who are all getting the chance to do what they love for a good cause.

On the first day of the workshop, we had a discussion about why theatre may be a good medium to spread this information. The IEC and other groups have television messages and radio dramas that promote the elections. As our partners said, not everyone has access to TV and radio all the time - and both TV and radio can be switched off. Having a real, live person performing in front of you creates a direct and emotional relationship, one that is more likely to lead to a change in action.

The post-performance dialogues will also help in that regard. The dialogues are inspired by Theatre of the Oppressed techniques, and ask the audience to come up with alternate solutions to the issues presented on stage. In addition to thinking of solutions, audience members are encouraged to take the stage themselves to try their ideas with the actors. This technique allows audiences to make action plans, and to engage in community discussion about issues that may not come up in everyday life.

Every day, we spent some time discussing common voting issues and using those discussions to make pieces of theatre. What struck me was that many of the issues identified in Afghan culture are common issues in American elections as well - folks who do not believe that one vote matters and do not trust the democratic system, and so choose not to vote at all.  That’s common everywhere that elections are held, I think, so we spent lots of time discussion potential solutions. First and foremost, people need to have confidence in the election system to believe that their ballot will make a difference - so the performances that the troupes are creating for this project will all promote that confidence.

Using Image Theater, narration, and improvisation, the participants made and performed short pieces addressing those issues and many more. They took on women’s right to vote and those who believe  women shouldn’t vote, the lack of voting infrastructure that causes long lines and too few ballots, bribery and threats from candidates, access to the polls for folks living with disabilities (which turned into a discussion about the larger responsibility of all Afghans to ensure all can participate in the elections), and the value of one vote.  

Now that they have a lot of content, the troupes are going home to finalize scripts that merge some of the stories and issues. Once the scripts are done and rehearsed, each troupe will perform over 50 shows before April. The Kabul team is travelling to Bamyan and Kunduz to perform, rather than staying in Kabul where the IEC has a strong voter education program.  They will also conduct the Leadership Workshops for youth in those provinces, which includes a mock campaign to illustrate some of the common joys and issues with the elections.

As the troupes begin to perform in August, we will have more information about the impact of these performances and the experiences that our partners are having in the field. Right now, we are proud and tired, and excited for what this project has in store.

This project is my first time in the country, and I have thoroughly enjoyed myself. Though our partners tell me I look Afghan, I know I still stick out a bit. All the folks I have met here are warm, welcoming, and thankful, in addition to being the best hosts around.  Even though it is Ramadan and our partners are fasting, they are all focused and dedicated on the work at hand (not to mention talented). I cannot wait to hear the stories of their successes, and to return to work with them again.

Ayesha

Ayesha is studying biology in University, and teaches human rights workshops for women all over Nangarhar province. But it took me almost a week to find out all that information. Ayesha is also the director of the women’s troupe of the Nangarhar Theatre, one of our partners for the Voter Education and Fraud Mitigation Project.  I met her in Kabul, where she came with the director of the men’s troupe for a week of training and program set-up.

When I met Ayesha, she was shy, giggly, and self-conscious. Jalalabad is a more conservative area than Kabul, and she dresses in long black garments over her other clothing all the time. She would not make eye contact with Michael, and she was decidedly uncomfortable in our daily theatre warm-ups. She had never done theatre before - but she had certainly taught workshops.

Ayesha, like all Afghans, is a perfect host. She invited us into her room for melon nearly every night, and it is those conversations that made her begin to open up. We learned about her work with the women and her life in Jalalabad.  Since she was staying in the same hotel that we were, it was easy to have these after-dinner chats, particularly since she was fasting and much happier after her dinner.  It was during the first of these conversations that she told us that this workshop is giving her new courage.

Little by little over the week, Ayesha began to open up and come out of her shell.  We learned that she has quite a silly side and loves to joke around. She also gave me the best nickname I have ever had - ILoveYou, which is what my name sounds like to her.

Things I Learned in Guatemala

Ilanna reflects on her first trip with Bond Street Theatre to Guatemala.

When I first learned I’d be going on our project to Guatemala to work with girls at an orphanage, images flashed through my mind: pessimistic and frail children, theater as the Answer to All Their Problems, and strolling through the countryside en route to our performances. Thankfully (for the first two), I was dead wrong. The girls we met at the orphanage are strong, resilient, and optimistic. They are opinionated and determined, smart and hopeful. And they’re not looking for us to answer their problems—they were looking to us for friendship, fun, leadership training, and teambuilding. And with those as my redefined mission, I got to breathe a sigh of relief. “ohhh--my job is to try to make life richer and teach people how to be proactive, not to Provide the Answer.” And the gusto the girls showed in the following three weeks trying goofy things, helping each other, letting themselves get silly, learning dances and attempting it in homemade masks, creating both poignant and ridiculous tableaux, and then discussing everything—all this proved our work had achieved its purpose. 

Ilanna and Christina performing Se Necesita Soñyar.  
Thanks to John Kirkmire.

I think some of my favorite moments occurred mid-performance of our clown play, Se Necesita Soñar. In the show, I wanted to go to the ocean with the cricket and Christina didn’t want to go.  We led our respective sides of the audience chanting “si si si!” or “no no no!”. Each performance, right before that part, I’d look out at my half of the sea of eager eyes, and know they were with me. I’d make a hand gesture meaning “you too, this time!” and a chorus of voices would join with my chant. 

Where were the shy, unfocused children I had been warned of? These kids were anything but. Kids are kids everywhere—they latch onto a presence that gives them attention and run with it.  After some of the performances, we would take our bow and leave to the chant of “Otra! Otra!” (“More! More!”). I was afraid it would be like pulling teeth to get these kids to participate; in fact the challenge was in getting them to remain passive audience members. Some of these kids had never seen theater or been given the opportunity to be silly in a group before. I think we did this show, about a cricket following its ridiculous dream to go to the ocean, for those kids. I like to think they went home that night, where they may or may not have food to eat, running water, or literate parents, smiling and dreaming about their own desires, just a little bit more prepared to deal with the challenges of the next day. 

Squished in the back of a truck indeed!

Oh--and we didn’t leisurely stroll to these shows, as I had for some reason assumed. We happily made our way squished into tiny tuk-tuks and the backs of pick-up trucks, bumping along to bring smiles and laughter to environs alarmingly bleak but wholeheartedly deserving. 

Things I Learned in Guatemala:

1. You can never listen to Shakira’s “Waka Waka” song too many times. Especially while doing a free style movement warm up!

2. The city of Antigua is beautiful, old, and colorful. It is taken over by students at Spanish schools and gringo NGO workers. Imagine “Epcot Guatemala”. But you don’t have to look far to find the other side of this facade. A 10 minute drive out of the city’s picturesque cobblestoned streets brings you to small farms that have “se vende tortillas” signs, lots of electric barbed wire, and roads in various stages of development. I’m glad that the show we’re touring will bring us out of this little paradise and into areas with more turmoil and less access to foreign checkbooks.

3. Teaching in Spanish is difficult, but gets exponentially easier everyday. We use many of the same words (body parts, theater lessons, simple commands) everyday, and now they are beginning to be second nature. It’s amazing how much I can get across by saying a few Spanish phrases and then using my body and facial expressions to convey the rest of the thought. It has also delightfully surprised me how patient the girls are with our Italian- and Creole-peppered Spanish (complete with competing accents).

Ilanna in the world's most beautiful McDonalds.

4. Antigua has been said to have the most beautiful McDonalds in the world, and this morning as I was sipping a frozen latte staring at a volcano topped in clouds peaking up behind the ruins of an old church, which was situated on the other side of a be-fountained courtyard, I couldn’t help but agree.

5. Water bottles make very good puppet cricket bodies, especially when covered with old green corduroy fabric.

6. Even though it is not my personal belief system, I cannot doubt the good that God, Jesus, and the church has done for many of the people I’ve met here. The girls at the orphanage, who’ve all been taken away from their families because of sexual abuse, get so much hope from religion. Who am I to say that’s not valid? Where do I get the authority to think “those are just stories” or “you determine you own destiny”? If that’s what people want to believe, then okay, their beliefs make it real for them. And that’s enough.

Change Begins with You and with Me: Guatemala Update 4

Olivia's final update from Guatemala- or more precisely, the Honduras airport- on June 17.

Well, the girls have performed for the very first time!  The performance this afternoon was really lovely.  We spent the first hour warming up, rehearsing trouble spots, and losing girls who ran away to the bathroom or to find their friends.  We did manage to start on time, though, even after the girls changed our “pasa la toca” exercise.  We close each rehearsal by standing in a circle, holding hands, with our eyes closed.  One person squeezes the hand of the person next to them, who passes the squeeze on to the person on the other side.  So it goes around the circle.  Today, the girls took the end of the activity to tell us how thankful they are and how much the program meant to them.  It was stunning.  We are thankful too, and we expressed our pride and love for all they have accomplished. 

One of our actresses gets ready for the spotlight.

Ida made a headshots poster for the girls to display! As part of this process, Ida took photos of each girl who is performing with her portrait lens, and we printed them out as 8 x 10s, attached the girls’ names, and put it on a big board for them.  The Board also has the name of the troupe, El Grupo Juvenil Transformando Vidas Con Fe (Young Women Changing Lives with Faith), and the name of the show, El Cambio Empieza Por Ti y Por Mi  (Change Begins with You and with Me).  The girls are going to bring it to the cultural and religious retreat in July for their second performance.  They loved it; it made them feel like the professionals they are.

Ida also made a video of our rehearsal process, which we showed after the performance.  It ended up being over 8 minutes long to incorporate everything we have done here.  The soundtrack was awesome- "Waka Waka," "Send Me on My Way," and "Jai Ho."  I introduced "Jai Ho" a week and a half ago, and the girls fell in love.  They made up their own dance to "Jai Ho," or as they call it, “Hai Ho.” (tee hee hee)

The show went really well.  The girls spoke out clearly, took their time, and hit all their marks. The staff and residents at Oasis loved it!  Beatrice, one of the Directors, came up to tell us how wonderful it was and how proud she was of these twelve girls.

As I have said, it takes a long time to get to Oasis.  We have had several drivers from a local taxi service, but one of the most common ones is a lovely man who often brings his wife and two children.  He has two little boys, Christian and Robin.  Christian is 2, and Robin is only a few months old.  We call Christina “Senor Serioso” because he always looks so contemplative.  Today, the most beautiful family in Guatemala (as we call them) drove us to Oasis- and they came in to see the show!  We had an invited audience, but it was so nice to see these little kids enjoying the hard work that our girls have put in.

After the show, we had a party with a big pink piñata.  These girls seem so demure and composed until you put a broom handle at them and point them at something keeping them from candy!  It was really impressive to watch them swing madly, and dive immediately for the fallen candy with no fear.  Christian even got to take a swing, with some assistance.

So next steps; Oasis has an Arts Director for the first time!  She arrived in early June, and she is excited to continue the work with the theatre ensemble.  We left her with a bunch of printed and online resources, as well as our contact information so she can reach out whenever she needs to.  (Christina, Ilanna and I also may Skype into some of the rehearsals for the July show).  We also identified three of the older girls who are responsible and dedicated members of the group to serve as leaders.  These are the wonderful young women who would get the group to pay attention, who encouraged their peers to strive for perfection in the physical work, and many of whom wrote for the final play.  They are wonderful and will do a wonderful job to keeping this ensemble together!

It’s so hard to say goodbye, but I know we will be back to Guatemala.  We have made amazing contacts here, and now we know how to better serve the larger community.  We will visit Oasis again, if only for a short workshop session, and I know these young women will surprise us once again with their passion and talent.  I can’t wait for what they do next!

The Acting for Peace Team!
from left: Christina, Olivia, Ilanna, Turid, and Ida.

Olivia

Speed bumps: Guatemala Update 3

Another update from Olivia in Antigua, Guatemala, from June 13.

Everywhere we go in Guatemala, we encounter one thing.  Whether traveling the 40 minutes to Oasis, over an hour into Guatemala City, or just around Antigua, we are consistently jostled by a multitude of speed bumps. 

It's alarming at first. They have been installed everywhere- on cobblestones, on dirt roads, highways, and even the sidewalks tend to have them (not intentionally, but from erosion and long steps down to the street).

This seems a somewhat apt metaphor for the work here, and for getting things done in general. We do get things done, indeed the girls have walked through the entire show!, but it is bumpy. Our progress is often checked by 'Guatemalan time' (read: 5 minutes means 10-15 at least), by unforeseen details, by distracted/hyper/hungry/tired students, and by the sheer time it takes to get places.  Antigua is a perfect base, but it still takes travel time to get around.

I hope you aren't reading that this makes work slow and plodding.  On the contrary, between the minor bumps are beautiful patches of incredible creativity and productivity. The girls have an entire show, complete with musical transitions and a spoken-word style coda, and they are proud of what they have accomplished.   We are, too.  

These young women have a lot to say, and are saying it clearly with physical theatre, song, dance, rhythm, and physical images.  Each story has a message (not a massage, which was a minor mistranslation) that the ensemble chants together at the end of the parable.  The message are not, though, simplistic sentences of common sense advice.  These are complex messages, really calls to action for the community: to work together, to replace love with violence, to find their answers in the community using what they already have, and that unity is a crucial source of power.  Hearing the young women identify these messages, and shout them out together is an unbelievably powerful experience.

Rather, the minor bumps realign my own perception of the work. I cannot (despite my nature) sprint forward, but must be slow to anticipate the bumps.  The speed bumps ensure that I am taking care or myself and the others on the road with me. And in Guatemala, many of the roads definitely require that.

The philosophy students of Integral Heart Foundation in San Mateo.

Ok, I think I've beaten that metaphor to death. A quick update:

• This week we led workshops for 76 4-6 year olds in a village outside Antigua. We played follow the leader- and all the little girls loved being bunnies and kittens, while the little boys focused on being snakes, bears, and monsters.  Ah, gender.
• We also met some AWESOME artists at Caja Ludica (Pandora's Box) in Guate, who are running a physical theatre program for street kids.  This is a truly inspiring program (apparently that's the word of the day!)
• Tomorrow we have a workshop with teenaged philosophy students!

Friday is the final performance for the girls at Oasis, and then Saturday we return to the States. I cant believe how time has flown.

See you soon!

Olivia

Four Parables: Guatemala Update 2

Check out Olivia's second Guatemala update from June 4.

Hello all!

Greetings from Antigua. This week and next will be a bit mad- we have a show to create with the girls, Guatemalan artists to meet, and some volunteer work here in Antigua. This morning we worked with malnourished babies- the kids today were up to 7, but none looked older than  4.  Sunday we are serving dinner at a local homeless shelter.  Ida (of Ida's Hjelpefond) always provides at least two hot meals at the shelter when she is here, and I am fortunate to overlap with one.

A wonderful moment in rehearsal.

But....drumroll...the big news is about the play! The girls at Oasis had homework to come up with a short piece about lack of love, and we got some great stuff.  Yesterday, the girls workshopped the four parables they made about 'la falta de amor', turning them into fairy tales with strong messages.  

Tale 1: A little girl lives with her mother in the mountains. They are a very poor family, so she goes out to beg for food and to forage in the basura (the trash dump). Underneath old clothes, wrappers, and other discarded items she finds a broken doll. She sees that although it is broken, it can be made better.  So she picks it up (after a little game of Dead and Alive) and takes it home. Her mother is appalled, but the girl convinces her and they fix it up, clean it off, and sell it for more money. This becomes their lucrative business- selling remade dolls to local children.

Tale 2: There are four animals in the forest- a proud and fierce lion, a big strong bear, a small ant who does not think well of himself or anyone else, and a wise worm. The ant, lion and bear are fighting about a beautiful flower, each speaking too loud to hear the others. The worm comes upon this ruckus, and asks what they are doing. When he hears, he notes that the flowers are common in the forest and that each animal could have more than one flower if they work at it. After pondering that, the animals all agree that they should all enjoy the flower and dedicate themselves to cultivating even more.

Tale 3: There is a town in the mountains where everyone fights and nobody cares about one another.  Gangs fight for power, and the town is a mess. Three friends come to town, see the situation, and know that they can do something about it. They go to each person individually, offering love and friendship instead of fighting. Eventually they convince the whole town that it is better to meet together in faith than fight.

Tale 4: There is one tree in the forest who stands alone. It is proud of itself, thinking itself the strongest and best tree around. One day, a woodcutter comes along and cuts it down easily.  Then the woodcutter goes to a grove nearby, where all the trees have grown together.  He tries and he tries to cut the trees down, but he can't - the trees are united!

The trees.

The girls have started blocking these stories.  We have four directors/authors who have some distinct ideas about what they want to say and how they want to say it.  Christina and I found a framing device: two sisters reading each other these stories from a book of parables to calm one another down.  







I am so proud of these girls for their focus, for these incredible thoughts, and their strength. I wish you could all hear the conversation we had yesterday about the messages and themes of these stories. I was blown away.

More to come!
Olivia

Conclusions: Qatar Forum of the Alliance of Civilizations

Olivia attended the UN Alliance of Civilizations Forum on Development and Cultural Exchange in Doha, Qatar last week.  

Now that my bags are unpacked and my internal clock is on New York time, I can take a moment to reflect on the UNAOC Forum in Doha. Those four days sparked amazing conversations and insights with young leaders and more established leaders working to make the world a “better” place, but what specifically am I taking away from it?

New connections, to be sure. I met activists from all over the world (and I mean all over) who are working at the grassroots level to make their cultures more equitable. Simply being in a room that has that energy is exciting: I am reminded why I like going to work every day. These are young people who are not satisfied but who seek to make lasting changes. What could possibly be more important?

I attended a panel in which five Arab Spring activists talked about their experiences on the ground in Libya, in Tahrir Square, and in Syria. Their stories were violent, yes, but also filled with camaraderie and laughter and more than a little hope. I miss that true idealism: not Pollyanna rose-colored glasses, but honest belief.

I cannot read the news about Egypt today and not think of the blogger I was speaking to just days ago. Despite being so saturated with the events of the region, I never felt I understood clearly until she told me that folks all over the Arab world and the MENA region were listening to one song of freedom on the radio, and it kept them working towards democratic peace. That I understand perfectly: revolution needs art and music to breathe life into it.

I also got to talk to Israeli and Palestinian people about how to actually initiate dialogue in a region so stifled geographically and politically. There is no room (literally and metaphorically) for a new opinion or idea. Yet logically, it is not the same logic that has been used for decades that will solve anything. We have had years of hatred, stereotyping, fear and violence: what can we do now that will change the landscape even a little? My biased answer is theatre. I know that it works, and I know that it makes me confront my own demons. As we work towards peace, what could be more vital than self-reflection?

That is what I am struck by most: the questions that go unasked in my own society. We assume we have answers without ever bothering to ask about other people’s experiences and realities. Want to know how to make a dent in the housing crisis?  Awesome, me too.  How can we do that without knowing the experience of a homeless person,or a person who cannot make rent, or a shelter worker who does not have enough beds?

My solution to this is theatre: theatre to see a glimpse of someone else’s day-to-day reality, theatre to communication with populations who speak a different language, and theatre to remove the conversations from the intellect and relocate them in the heart.

Cross-cultural dialogue is a massive and necessary goal if we are going to work together in a global world, but it is impossible to mandate. Dialogue is not debate, nor is it academic. It must be relatable, real, and honest. The arts create that interaction because they seek to ask questions and to open up new perspectives.

I know this to be true: now my task is to continue to convince others.  I got to change a few minds in Doha.  Who is next?

Youth Gather in Doha

 Olivia is in Doha, Qatar to attend the UN Alliance of Civilizations Forum on Development and Cultural Exchange.  On December 10, she moderated the Pre-Forum Discussion for Youth Leaders.

Today, myself and 25 other UN Alliance Of Civilizations moderators (folks who had been moderating the online pre-forum discussion, members of the Youth Committee, and students from Penn State’s World in Conversation program) moderated four hours of discussion in order to come up with 7 concrete messages we want to send to world leaders. These messages will be presented tomorrow at the opening session of the 4^th UNAOC Forum in Doha.

I have spent the last three weeks moderating the pre-Forum discussion on how the arts speak to a shared human experience and what kinds of programs work.  Reading so many other young voices form across the world share their stories of singing in a choir, of performing in a show, and of creating a mural together reinforced for me that I am in precisely the right business.  Creativity and collaboration are the most effective way to reach across borders and truly see another being for who he or she is.

Today, the prospect of crafting a youth message that will be heard on a global stage is exciting in and of itself, but to do so with thirteen other youth leaders from all over the world is an opportunity I rarely get.  So often when youth connect, it is through the internet.  We do not sit together in the same room to engage in dialogue around issues of development and cultural diversity: that only occurs in my nerdy fantasies.   

Of course, through Bond Street young people do get to experience collaboration in the same room, but one or two countries at a time.  Today there were leaders from over one hundred countries sitting face-to-face.

Not that dialogue is enough: we must commit to setting goals together that propel us toward sustainable change.   Dialogue is a tool to reach a collaborative construction of methodology, ideology, programming, and more.  Even though this is the UN and there is a lot of talking, just talking is not enough.  Youth work quickly, we organize, and we spring to action.  There is certainly space for reflection and planning so we do not end up flying by the seat of our pants, but the focus must be on moving towards a goal.  I get frustrated when dialogue is the end and not the means because I and the other 400 folks here are not used to talk.  We are used to turning words into action.

I, in particular, am used to working with very few words.  The arts create a space to engage in dialogue nonverbally by sharing cultures and the human experience of living in them.  As one of the only self-identified artists here (and certainly the only one who works at an arts organization), I am consistently finding myself on the verge of yelling, “Just CREATE together!”  My pre-forum discussion proved that working together to create theatre, song, visual art, murals, or any sort of creative project breaks down the barriers that exist.

My goal for the next three days is to make as many people as possible-from Ban-Ki Moon on down- understand this fundamental value.  I know the arts work not just in Afghanistan, in Haiti, in Myanmar, in the Balkans, in Israel, but I have also seen them work firsthand in Nepal and in prisons in the US.  

I am reinforced in my mission every time I tell a delegate what I do and they immediately exclaim, “Wonderful!  That sounds so interesting/effective/useful/creative!”  Everyone has that positive reaction because using art to reach across borders makes some sort of innate sense to us. It’s about more than providing a voice to the voiceless: it is about empowering voices to speak us and be heard in whatever way they want to communicate.  

Kayhan in Kabul: Kabul Goes to My Head

The last four days at the Kabul Theater Festival has been heady, thrilling, hopeful, and heartful. I was overjoyed to meet most of the theater artists that I worked with last year. They were presenting their work at the festival (one of them won best scenery and costumes!) and they all looked radiant and full of life. Moreover, I met so many new, creative people working in MANY different provinces of Afghanistan and in different forms of theater.

I was so happy to see all the forms that these shows took. People are really getting creative, getting inventive, and are taking the initiative to make art however they can.

We met groups who have faced great danger making their art, people new to theater, others who are well established, some on the cutting edge, and folks who are just joining in for the sake of it – maybe hearing about it for the first time. This is exactly the type of vitality and diversity you want to see in any field.

In general (and not just with theater folks) there is so much love, energy, brilliance, and hope I feel when talking to Afghans. Just the opposite of what the mainstream media shows us. I suppose that outside forces need people to believe things are drab and hopeless to get support for unending war. Imagine if we heard about theater festivals, language schools, women judges, youth voices, inter-ethnic solidarity projects, music and dance forms, etc.?

Hopelessness, despair, and cynicism are some of the most powerful weapons of the oppressor.  If we feel there is no point and that we can never win; then there will be weak efforts.The truth is, Afghanis are creating their futures with vision and dedication. I hope that reading this blog will allow you to reignite your hope for the people of Afghanistan and believe in their brilliance and power.

Without further ado … proof that hope springs eternal – through theater!

The first one woman show ever!

               

                              

                            Photos by Kayhan Irani

 
 
 
A brilliant young university student from Herat did a fantastic clown show and had us all laughing and crying. Her amazing mother and father joined her onstage for the curtain call. You could see how much they loved their daughter and supported her dreams. All artists should have parents like hers!


Love K

Read Kayhan's personal blog here.

Michael's First Update from Herat: On Youth

Greetings friends and family.

We are into week three in our six week project in Afghanistan, the last 9 days being here in Jabraiel, near Herat. (Jabraiel is the Afghan name for the angel Gabriel). It’s good work; the members of Simorgh Theatre and Film are completely enthusiastic, soaking up all our exercises, and totally wearing us out. There are 35 members, ages 12 to 24. It’s a young company, but very well organized with a number of international performances, including Germany and India.

Simorgh is the first of four companies around Afghanistan that we will be working with over these two years. The project, sponsored by the US Institute for Peace and the US Embassy in Kabul, is to create with each company a series of issue-related performances that they can market to NGO’s and government ministries. Basically, we are giving the companies the tools to generate earned income. This week we were sharing various theatre techniques with the Simorgh actors and Monireh Heshemi, their Artistic Director. At 26, Monireh is smart, devoted, and well respected by her actors. Her command of English is quite good, so translation has not been a problem.

As it happens, the members of this acting troupe are all Hazara, the ethnic minority of Afghanistan’s four main tribal groups. Actually, almost all the inhabitants in Jabraiel are Hazara (think Chinatown, Spanish Harlem, or other such neighborhood). As this project requires the company to do 10 performances, and ethnicity can be a hot issue, we asked the company if there would be a problem if we booked a performance in another community of, say, Tajiks or Pashtuns. So check out the answer of sixteen year old Rahelah:

“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."

Right on! That’s a pretty impressive quote, and to hear Rahelah proclaim it makes all the stress of our travels vanish like the fog in a breeze. Her answer is testimony to the very real desire of many Afghans to transcend the conflicts and build a peaceful society.

Rahelah is a young woman enjoying the opportunity to pursue her interest in acting. That she is allowed to do so in her immediate society of family and friends, and that there is a local theatre company here for her is pretty remarkable. Yeah, there is a certain stigma in this conservative society about women appearing on stage, but the real issue is the economic one… theatre is just not considered a viable career. Sounds familiar. Which is why we’re helping with possible solutions, working with NGO’s and schools and government ministries. It’s a start.

We’ve just started working on the specifics of the performances, and that will be the subject of the next entry.

Myanmar in May! Part II

Here is the continuation of our experiences in Myanmar in May:

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.

* * *

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!

* * *

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!

* * *

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! 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.

* * *

Week 4: Kashmir (click here for photos)

Reena took her very first airplane trip with all of us to a place she’s only seen in movies Kashmir! She woke up a half hour before the alarm clock - at 4 in the morning – because she was so excited. It was exciting for us to watch her as the plane climbed into the sky.

Here’s a brief synopsis of our travel day:

Load 12 bags into the car
Unload 12 bags out of the car onto carts
Load 12 bags onto x-ray machine
Unload 12 bags off the x-ray machine onto carts
Load the 12 bags at the ticket counter
Unload the 12 bags in Delhi onto a cart
Load 12 bags
Unload 12 bags
Load
Unload
Load
Unload into… THE UNIVERSAL HOTEL!

Joanna said that on every tour she’s been on, no matter how long, there’s a tough spot for the group just past the middle. Then everyone realizes their time together is running out and any troubles seem to be not such a big deal. The journey to the state of Jammu and Kashmir as counted as that time for us, and it wasn’t too bad.

This week I could say we have certainly become friends. My proof is the story of “Green, Blue, Push!”

We had a ridiculous laugh moment together in the Srinagar airport when Ali was telling us about his colored contacts, and Reena plowed the luggage buggy into his ankle. (Reena was pushing a luggage buggy, yes, for the first time in her life.) Then she laughed about it maniacally “Green, blue, Push! Ha ha ha ha ha.” All the way into the town of Anantnag – “Green, blue,

Push! Ha ha ha ha ha.” She was like a demonic little sister, with Ali the resigned big brother.

So the Universal Hotel was not what any of us were expecting. We all stood with our arms crossed, breathing in the exhaust fumes from the repair garage that was in the lobby of the Universal Hotel, contemplating how the lack of lights and hot water would be through the cold Anantnag night, and wondering how it could be that this was the only hotel available in whole city. This was when Reena tried to get a laugh, by repeating “Green, Blue Push! Ha ha ha hah…” And everyone just looked at her. Not even a peep of laughter. Perfect awkwardness. What a grumpy moment! I thought, this is it for sure. The rough spot. Yep, this is it.

We bucked up. And the hotel was fine. Hot water worked in enough rooms, the blankets were warm, and we ate dinner laughing once again at “Green, blue, Push! Ha ha ha!”
Next day we did a demo performance, if you will, for the principal of the Government Degree College for Women, some of the college’s students, some students from a near-by elementary school and our hosts, Mr. Nabi and Mr. Shabir. They all had a truly enthusiastic reaction to our show. After, the teacher from the Froebel Elementary School gave a particularly inspiring speech about theater’s power to bring peace because it requires teamwork, and here we had people from such diverse countries working together! (I feel equally impressed by this fact every day.)

But then, how do I describe “The explosion of Mr. Nabi?” I must begin by saying I wasn’t actually in the room when it happened. And in retrospect, everything ended up being totally fine. But I think it’s important to describe this moment of misunderstanding – a potential whenever several cultures come together, even for peaceful reasons.

Essentially Mr. Nabi wanted us to do another show at the college in order to interest the students in our workshop, but Joanna tried to explain we prefer to do shows for an audience that includes both adults and young children (as opposed to just a group of adults). There were a lot of raised voices from our hosts, and back and forth attempts at explanation on the topic until Mr. Nabi stormed out of the room in offense, leaving Joanna and Subhash in the room wondering what to do next. I believe Subhash worked as the peace-maker/interpreter with Joanna as the calmer/explainer when Mr. Nabi eventually came back into the room - we agreed to do the college show, they agreed to bring over more children, and it ended up being a great success in sharing with these young women a show designed to target both children and adults together.

So I thought oh, that was it. That was the “challenging” moment. It wasn’t too bad.
We got a tip from a friend of Mr. Shabir: Go to Pahalgam. It is a beautiful town up in the mountains with many hotels. So we went! Like explorers, packed the car and headed to the mountains.
We followed the road along the rushing Lidder river, up and up into the cold, snow-capped mountains. In Pahalgam we were greeted by a crowd of running young men whose job it was to get newly arrived tourists into their hotels.

This was when I had my own personal breakdown. Our desire to get on the road, beat the sunset and find a new hotel meant that we didn’t get a chance to eat beyond the early morning meal, and I was unprepared with any packable snack. The result? As we carried our 12 bags into the Paradise Hotel at around 9 pm I cried. Like a baby. Hungry, tired, worn out by all the debate, I broke. I felt totally embarrassed. And in this moment, Joanna came to my side and let me know it was ok and told me she was glad I had been a trooper. Ali also said, with tears juuust peaking out of his eyes, “Sarah you can’t cry. You have too many friends, and you are older. If you cry, what will I do?” This, and a plate of navratan korma, calmed me down.

And that was it. I can look back now and say, that was my most personally challenging moment. And – not so bad!

Into the week of workshops - one at the Froebel School, and one at the Women’s College. It took an hour to come down from the mountain every day, which was a beautiful background for our daily workshop planning sessions.

Our workshops this week gave the college women a new format in which to express themselves, and we hope that both the teachers at the elementary school and the college students will consider theater an educational tool they can use in the future.

Our final performance of this week, and the final performance of the tour, was very special. We heard rumors of a town that had seen a terrible massacre in the year 2000 and thought this might be a healing place to do our show. It turned out that in fact Mr. Nabi was from this area. So he took the steps to arrange a performance. By sheer chance we performed on the anniversary, March 20, of the massacre of 3 Sikh men by militants in the area. People often refer to Kashmir as “heaven on earth” because of its beautiful natural resources. But it in this village after the show that Dr. Mohammad Amin Malik, the head of the political science department at the College for Women, explained that in fact Kashmir is heaven on earth because people with such diverse beliefs have lived in peace – for much longer then the recent conflicts. The people we met in Kashmir want this to be why their state is known around the world.

Other Bits: Many people pointed out that Ali and Jamil could easily be mistaken for Kashmiris.

The dogs of night – defending their dog territory, playing their dog games to stay warm, and then sleeping the day away.

Reena always says “No ‘thanks,’ no ‘sorry’ between friends.” The result of this viewpoint is that when I say thank you, she says, “Oooh no, no, no!” or “It’s NO problem!” One morning she said to me, “Thank you, Ooh, sorry! OOOH!! NO ‘THANKS’ NO ‘SORRY’ BETWEEN FRIENDS!” Ha!

Every day the pashmina sales men met us at the car before we left.
I think of men in matching coats with beautiful faces when I think of Kashmir.Another first for Reena: snow! – the Delhi girl froze the week away and counted down the days until she’d be back in her warm home.

We left Anantnag on Friday - Eid! - which meant we drove through four parades on our way down the mountain. We even became a part of one of the parades, as the chanting, celebrating men jumped up on our slow-moving jeep. 

Week Three: Lucknow (click here for photos)

Before our week’s work of artistic ambassadorship began, Ali and I wanted to go dancing! The Sunday night air was filled with the sound of parties that we wished we were at. Instead we took a bicycle rickshaw to the only disco in Lucknow. Ali says in Kabul, everyone is indoors by 7 pm because of the situation there. So he was super-enjoying the 10 o’clock adventure where the disco was cheese and we were mice in a Hindi maze. One bicycle rickshaw, 1 auto rickshaw, and several dead ends later, we were on the top floor of a mall – coulda been New Jersey! – including walking through the door that said “members and couples only” into an overpriced and completely empty club. No matter. We danced like superstars in a music video. Despite his lack of nightlife, Ali is a fantastic dancer.

New week, new set of workshops, this time for girls age 7 to 14 at the Prerna School, a school for the poorest girls (the daughters of rickshaw drivers, beggars, ragpickers and the like) created five years ago by Urvashi Sahni, a woman whose capacity to inspire is reflected in the eyes of both her students and the teachers who work for her.

The Prerna school is housed within a private school for middle-class families called the Study Hall Foundation. The girls who attend Prerna pay a nominal fee because their education is subsidized by the families of the wealthier students: they give a bit more than the cost of their own child’s education to support Prerna. These young girls were an inspiration, many taking education into their own young hands and putting themselves into the school without any support from their families.

As for performances, we did four shows this week – one for the Prerna Foundation girls, a show for disabled children at SPARC, a performance in a Lucknow slum called Balu Adda, and another rural village performance in a place called Mishrapur. The most memorable was the performance in Balu Adda.

Not far at all from the Prerna Foundation, we turned into a vast landscape of dwellings constructed from tarps, hay, and pieces of plastic built amidst mounds of garbage and plastic bottles. How do people live here? How will they like our play? I wondered. What will it mean to them? There was a huge crowd. Somewhere around 450 people. As the show began, looks of curiosity became smiles and laughs, for the kids and adults alike. And when it was all done, I had a group of small-sized followers looking for more fun. One little girl in particular developed a new version of tag I guess you’d call “punch the pillow butt and run.” She’d laugh which would make me laugh and then the other kids would laugh. Amazement all around.

This was the dirtiest of all places I’ve ever been, and we rolled in and did a show and rolled out. This show is memorable to me for what we are able to do and what we are unable to do, both made visible in the extreme conditions of these people’s lives. What is it that we do? We give an hour of intrigue and laughter. Laughter! It improves the immune system, stimulates neural connection, and instigates smiles (the glue of humanity). But to see that, without fresh water and basic hygiene, simple cuts fester and easily treatable conditions worsen, made us all aware of our limits.

The unofficial theme of this week was the state of women in India, which kept coming up from many different people. If I ever identified myself as post-feminist, in India I have been quite clearly asked to question my assumptions about women’s level of equality. “Indian food is designed to torture the woman,” said one of the reporters who came to interview us. She spoke of how she is ready to change careers and location now that her daughter is going to college so she can have a life that doesn’t include tending a pot of food that cooks for hours. She was being funny about it – but it is true in the US I have food that can be made pretty quickly. What a simple luxury.

And then there was the night Urvashi gave accounts of 15 year-olds being married off to men in their 50s. It is more like buying a servant, and not what I have been raised to think of as marriage. The last day at Prerna, she invited the first graduating class to tell us about their opinions and experiences. The girls stood there and said they didn’t know anyone who has a happy marriage. “Many women are single women living on their own despite being married!” said Urvashi.

My friend and co-worker Reena later that night said, “my father hopes to get a lot of money for my sister and I. I don’t like marriage. I focus on what I can control, which is my profession.” She has a passion to work with disabled children and a hope for a good marriage, but not any control over whom she will marry. I imagined the unpleasant pressure of having to command a high price.

I made friends with the assistant manager of the hotel where we stayed and even she brought up the topic, saying for many, if a women doesn't do all the housework, the marriage is over.

Despite these realities, because of them, women here have astounding determination. The Prerna girls work 5+ jobs to support their families, AND put themselves into the school. The young women who have been there all five years said their parents definitely treat them differently as a result. Now that they have received education, the parents don’t dismiss their daughter’s comments and opinions as easily. They listen a bit more. This girl has been to school, she knows a bit more than before!

And my favorite moment all week was when one of the older Prerna students bravely (it seemed brave to me) asked Jamil if he makes his wife and sisters cover their face in Afghanistan. He said it is their choice whether they do or not. Then Urvashi asked why is it that Muslim men can marry 4 wives, but women can’t have 4 husbands. He didn’t know and the girls swapped exasperated looks. As we left Jamil told Urvashi he would like to come back to Prerna Foundation and when he does, he said, “I will have an answer.” Because those young women will definitely be asking!

Other Bits: Over the course of two weeks of driving to workshops, we have developed “Ali’s favorite jump” and “Sarah’s favorite left turn;” Our driver, Raju, gamely would speed up the car to fly over “Ali’s favorite jump;” Ali has a secret sign for beer! (taboo in Afghanistan… but available). We haven’t met them yet, but Mr. Nabi and Mr. Shabir (our Kashmir hosts) have become a daily presence in our lives with the planning for next week’s trip. We made a visit to Waris Alisha, a memorial to a Sufi profit who symbolizes, says our friend Adyog, peace between religions. In this temple, both Muslims and Hindus – anyone – is welcome to pray; I can’t say precisely why but we all felt a deep bond with the young women of Dewa. We had a certificate presentation ceremony with singing and snacks that was emotional for everyone. I will miss them very much.