On the Road in Afghanistan

Hello from sunny Afghanistan!

We hit the ground running and have been running ever since! The days are packed and endlessly interesting. Although much time is spent being stuck in traffic which is always interesting to us -- a chance to see life as it dodges between the cars -- but pretty trying for our driver. Yes we have a driver just like those big NGOs do.

Where to begin? Things are really remarkably normal here in Kabul... that is, normal for Kabul. I have noticed lots of changes since last time: MANY more cars, fewer donkey carts in the city center, roads still not paved even in fancy neighborhoods, fewer huge piles of trash, shorter and more fitted dresses on the girls with skinny jeans underneath, fewer traffic lights and more traffic police, more checkpoints at night, fewer bikes, pretty consistent electricity, lots of new buildings and fancy houses, and remarkably few foreigners... unless they are all hiding. But life goes on here in a very daily way and people seem oblivious to any imminent dangers. I am thoroughly amazed to see how cars, donkey carts, bikes, sheep, goats, motorbikes and people cram the streets dodging every which way and somehow missing each other.

Just to fill y’all in on our immediate environment, we are staying in one of those fabulous houses that I usually make fun of – the “wedding cake” houses or “Pakistani” houses as people call them. Typical of all Afghan homes, the house is behind very tall walls to maintain privacy for the women and family. This house is very lovely inside with a spiral stairway and a foyer and 4 rooms, a kitchen, and two bathrooms on each floor. The first floor is for general cooking and dining, and the next two floors are offices or bedrooms. We have the entire third floor to ourselves, and Zahir, our host, has the second floor for his business as a contractor for supplies for the US military (yep – but no guns, other stuff from paper clips to furniture). The house has a nice roof patio and balconies on each floor done in the most lavish mosaic with mirrors and tile.
It would be quite grand except Kabul is immensely, amazingly dusty… and this is an understatement. The combination of unpaved streets, plethora of cars, arid climate and windy evenings makes for a layer of dust on everything and everyone. In this environment, a burqa isn’t a bad idea. Many men wear scarves over their heads and around their faces. Women cover their faces with their headscarves to keep out the dust more than modesty here. After a day out and about, my hair feels like straw and cannot possibly be combed.
Our hosts are the best! Zahir and his company are lovely and generous beyond belief. They take care for our every step and will not allow us to travel unattended despite our years of taxi-taking and casual walks around town. I appreciate their concern and, although this level of luxury is quite new for us after years of trudging the dusty streets on foot and taxi, it’s pretty great having a driver. We are staying in this fabulous house for free and their cook makes everyone lunch daily and makes us three meals a day! His vegetable curry is to die for and his spinach rocks (if spinach can rock). I have no idea of the spices he uses but it’s not like Indian curry, it’s very flavorful but not hot at all. Our escort/driver/translator, Sharif, takes us around to meetings in his big white Toyota SUV with some extra gears for those crazy hills (Kabul is mountainous too) and winding streets that are beyond bumpy into axle-breaking perilousness. This is terrain that actually needs an SUV…. and he in fact broke an axle going up one particularly windy route. Fortunately we have this particular journey on video!
Sharif is a bit macho and has no interest in the arts whatsoever (again, having no experience of WTF it is, how could he care), but translates to the best of his knowledge and asks for explanations as needed for words like “collaboration” or “improvisation,” and he understands the idea of what I am now calling “information theatre” or “informational theatre.” "Social theatre" or "Applied theatre" just doesn't make sense to anyone here where words are translated literally, directly from the dictionary.


I have many other stories to relay, and will have more to follow!

from Joanna in Kabul

Kadmus Arts Wants to Know How We Do What We Do

Ana Maria Harkins called us recently on behalf of the podcast at KadmusArts.com.  KadmusArts.com is a site for the festival community: the organizers, the sponsors, the artists, and most importantly, the audiences.  They're familiar with our reputation performing in festivals all over the world and wanted to know more about how our International Artistic-Humanitarian programming worked.

"If you want to get information to an area of high illiteracy, you can't hand out a flyer," explains Joanna when asked about how the versatile application of theatre and the arts works in communities in crisis.  "So you get together a theatre company, and they put together a show in a flash about polio vaccines. ... You have to dispel the mythology in a practical way, especially in a place like Afghanistan, so that when the medical team follows up, the town is prepared."

For more on what makes every kid in every country laugh and where we're going next with our Artistic-Humanitarian programming, listen to the podcast interview.

Thanks to KadmusArts.com and Ana Maria for chatting us up!

###

Reflections from our Artistic Director: "Ask yourself who you are. Love what you do. Get good at it. And watch things change around you."

Bond Street Theatre's Artistic Director Joanna Sherman gives the Keynote Address to this year's United Nations Youth Assembly. Here is the transcript:

ON THE THRESHOLD: Your Contribution to the Millennium Development Goals Will Matter

First of all, I want to welcome you all to the USA and my hometown, New York, and to thank Patrick for giving me the opportunity to speak to you today.

He said, “I want you to give the Keynote Address – I think you’ll inspire the group.” And I said, “Who am I -- I’m not famous – you want Queen Noor or Oprah.” And Patrick said, “Who are you? You are the ‘real deal.’" The real deal -- that’s American slang for “You are the person who is too busy getting their hands dirty doing the real work out in the world to worry about getting famous.”

This is the essence of what I want to talk to you about today – being the “real deal" – being so dedicated to what you love to do and what you NEED to do, that you cannot be distracted from this mission, this passion.

For me it is the arts, and I can talk for days about the value of theatre: Theatre gives people a voice when they don’t have the courage to speak out, it stimulates the imagination, it teaches people how to collaborate…

Because what is art, all of the arts? Art is communication – it’s the way we communicate as individuals, as communities, as societies, as nations. Everything we know about our ancient ancestors, we know through the art that they left for us, those paintings on the cave walls – they tell the stories of their lives.

OK, that’s my advertisement for the arts … but that’s my path – we are not all artists. I do hope that the work that you saw in the video inspires you… but not necessarily to do theatre, but to discover your own way in the world.

So – how do you know what is your own way – your own particular path to make the world a better place?

Some of you may be well along in your career path and you are here at the Youth Assembly to make new connections, and learn more about your field. But some of you may be wondering where you fit into this big wide world, and you are here hoping to find that right career path and vision for the future.

Over the next few days, you are going to hear amazing stories and meet many inspiring people – both young and old – and wow! What an opportunity! Take it all in – notice everything -- listen to everyone – be open to all that you see and hear in this universe that is the United Nations, and even New York, a melting pot of cultures from around the world.

Be open to everything, and think about your particular strengths. We all have something to contribute: as future diplomats, teachers, business people, civic leaders, and yes, artists. We need every single one of you – and we are counting on you to find your voice!

You know, it’s funny but you never know how your life is going to go. I started out as a dancer, but my parents wanted me to be something more “serious,” something that sounded more “important” or at least financially stable. So I picked architecture. I thought – well it’s creative, and it sounds “serious.”

After I got my college degree, what did I do? I immediately returned to dancing. And through dance, and through a series of totally unplanned coincidences, I found myself completely involved in creating this very physical, dance-like theatre that you saw in the film. And traveling to villages in Colombia and Afghanistan and refugee camps in Bosnia.

As it turns out, inadvertently, through my dance training, I also learned how to express myself physically without using language, a skill that has helped me on my career path.

In the film, you saw a few of the moments along our theatrical journey that gave me clues to my future. The more I traveled, the more I experienced how my theatre skills could make a very real difference in the lives of the people we encountered – the children in the favellas in Brazil, the refugee children in Pakistan, the rural women in India.

Life is something you experience. You can plan, you can decide, you can compromise, you can change your mind…. But in fact, it’s like being a character in a novel, you just don’t know the crazy bends and twists that your life will take, and you don’t know the ending.

So I say - don't worry about success. Just trust in your instincts, and no matter what your skill and talent is, there is a place for you to contribute to the world.

Just be the real deal – the one who is so dedicated to what you love to do and what you MUST do, that you cannot be distracted from this mission.

Speaking of characters in a novel…. Have any of you heard of Harry Potter? JK Rowling? I recently heard an inspiring speech by JK Rowling, and she spoke about two things: the benefits of failure, and the importance of imagination.

The importance of imagination I immediately understand – the field of theatre is all about imagination. But the benefits of failure? I think this is our biggest fear. We think – what if I trust my instincts, and I am dedicated to what I love to do and what I MUST do….. and I fail?

This is what JK Rowling said. She said that she had been a failure – she had been very poor and completely lost. And her failure saved her because failure meant stripping away everything that wasn’t absolutely essential, and finding what was truly important to her.

She said, “I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena I believed I truly belonged.”

And, of course, we know that out of her failure, she created the one work to which she was truly dedicated – the Harry Potter stories.

Now, at the age of 42, she is a multi-millionaire, but more than that, she is bringing great joy to millions of young people who are inspired by her stories and, really, by her imagination. Her ability to create a world of her own creation, and get inside her characters and bring them to life.

Imagination is the uniquely human capacity to envision that which does not exist. It is the basis of all innovation and invention. And this really resonated with me, “Imagination is the power that enables us to empathize with humans whose experiences we have never shared.”

The fact is… You must be able to imagine the world that you want to live in. If we can’t imagine a better world, we can’t create one. I think this is the problem with many of our politicians – they have lost their ability to imagine.

What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality. This is an astonishing truth that I have seen proven a thousand times in my life. We have an inescapable connection with the outside world.

You saw in the film what our work is about… I bring my theatre to the front lines. I make healing, education, imagination through theatre a part of emergency relief in places where there are serious needs and issues.

A doctor from Doctors Without Borders once told us, “We are providing refugees with the necessities for human survival – food, medicine, shelter – but you are providing them with ‘food for the soul’ – you are restoring their humanity.”

Without our humanity, our soul, what good are food and shelter? So, I am combining two essential ideas: my creative skill as a theatre artist to imagine a better world, and my very concrete abilities to achieve my goals. You must have the skills to back up your ideas. Because none of this is abstract.

No matter what your skill and talent is, there is a place for you to contribute to the MDGs. Everything you do has very concrete effects on everything and everyone around you. What you do means the difference between a world that respects human rights for all people, or a scary world where there is no hope.

Love what you do. Get good at it. And watch things change around you. You will be surprised at what you can achieve.

I have trusted my instincts, listened to people who knew more than me, honed my skills, and never gave up.

Think of yourself. While you take in all the information about youth leadership and the success of the Millennium Development Goals these next couple of days. Ask yourself who you are.

Your intelligence, your capacity for hard work, your education, your talents give you unique status and unique responsibilities.

If you choose to use your voice on behalf of those who have no voice; if you choose to use your power to help the powerless; if you choose to use your imagination to experience how life might be for the less fortunate, then you will receive in return the amazing joy of having reached out and helped scores of people whose lives you have helped change.

And all of us expect no less from you; because it can be done. "No matter where you begin, you can be great! You can be the “real deal.”

As Ms. Rowling so well said,

“We do not need magic to change the world. We carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better."

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.

* * *

Myanmar in May! Part I

Bond Street Theatre is off on its new adventure as Cultural Envoys to Burma (Myanmar)! For three weeks, at the behest of the U.S. Dept. of State’s Bureau of Educational & Cultural Affairs, we will be working with local artists towards creating a theatrical piece together, as well as performing a clown-y show for children in the monastery schools. Traveling this time are Joanna & Michael and Yours Truly - who’s writing this blog entry - Anna Zastrow. I have known Bond Street for about a decade now and have been directly and actively involved with for the last two. If you saw The Mechanical, I played one of the Zannis – the two comedic sidekicks - together with Joanna.

(That's me on the left - Joanna Sherman on the right)

It’s so exciting to finally be joining forces with Joanna and Michael on one of their international outreach projects!

* * *

PART I

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

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

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

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


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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

###

Keep an eye out for Myanmar in May! : Part II ...

Safe and Sound and HOTHOTHOT!

Reports Michael McGuigan after one week in Yangon, Myanmar: 

"Safe and Sound and HOTHOTHOT ... where the weather is sunny and HOT, the people are friendly and the food is edible. 

After traveling for some 23 hours, we were pretty brain dead for the first two days; the second day beginning our work with the local actors. We have a three hour rehearsal in the morning, 8 - 11, and another at 4 - 7. In between, we've been heading back to the comfortable but not lavish hotel for lunch and reading / research / nap. 

The four Burmese actors (all male) speak fairly good English, which tends to speed up the creative process considerably. We are working on two potential new shows: one for the kids (which we will start performing in the third week to 7 or 8 schools / community centers) and the other a "mainstage" production based on the theme of "waiting", which I am told the Burmese are very acquainted with. They wait for buses, passports, electricity, permission, tea... It's a challenging topic to portray on stage as it can tend to be rather boring. But we like a challenge. I can't say more about it because it's all still in an embryonic stage, but our morale is high and the camaraderie superb. 

We heard about the near-bombing in Times Square-- the hotel does get CNN and the BBC news (I am told that whenever news of Myanmar is discussed, there can be a switch to commercials if the topic is not flattering). A new Myanmar election season is supposed to be announced today -- elections do not necessarily mean you can vote for your favorite candidate. There has been some localized violence throughout the country leading up to that, but you wouldn't know it from the day to day activity here around Yangon. People work, food is prepared, and very very occasionally theatre is created." 

Updates from Myanmar

After two weeks’ time in Myanmar and working closely with the Gitameit Music Center, Artistic Director Joanna Sherman sent this detailed update of the work Michael McGuigan and she have been doing. Read on ….

From Myanmar, November 27, 2009:

So we have completed our workshops with Gitameit we did three shows and feel
very happy to have made this connection. The Gitameit people are
really nice and there is no doubt that there is a tremendous need here.
There is indeed no modern theatre. This was verified emphatically after our
talk at the American Center. One elderly gentlemen sitting in the front
started off the Q+A at the end with that statement -- "There is no modern
theatre here." Turns out he is the former Myanmar Ambassador to France and,
as I have now learned, the older generation remember a time when there was a
flourishing theatre here. Now nothing.

It's an interesting history -- and has a similarity to Afghanistan in a
way. All things cultural stopped in Afghanistan after the Soviets were
ousted. The Soviets had initiated many advances -- modern theatre, for
example, and women having a place on stage. When they left, the immediate
civil war put an end to everything and then the Taliban put a lid on
cultural expression. Here, culture thrived until the junta and the present government has eyes everywhere to see who is saying what... even
indirectly. They actually closed ALL universities several times as they
were deemed too outspoken -- they were closed for three years at one point.
And any theatre except the traditional is just too dangerous. A point I
just found out today.... they had three gov’t spies at our little show in the
empty lot across from Gitameit yesterday! They surrounded Moe Naing
(Gitameit Director) and asked who are these people, what are they doing
here, and what is this show about? Moe Naing said -- look at it -- they are
just entertaining the neighborhood children!

Other news we discovered, Thila Min, our great friend and fellow theatre
artist here at Gitameit spent four years of his young life in jail. Can you
imagine spending age 20-24 in jail.... in Burma?! He was attending the
Yangon Technical University studying engineering, and there was a student
action against the way the educational system was operating -- they wanted
improved education. Thirteen out of the 100 or so students were arrested
and sent to Insein Prison sentenced -- seven years in jail! He got out after four years but some of them are still there... in a bit better prison, not the infamous Insein Prison.

After he got out, he signed up to study English at the American Center and it essentially saved his life. They got him a scholarship to finish his
degree at Indiana University Online, and he also worked with their small
theatre program there, run by Phillip Houze through Open Society
Institute, I think. Phillip was his mentor in a way and now Thila Min is
hired by Gitameit to start up a good theatre program there. He has no
formal training but has just read everything he can. He said
that what we did was illuminate some of those terms he read but had no idea
what they really meant -- isolation, opposition, balance, etc. -- in the
theatrical sense -- the physical principles. We spent a lot of time on the
physical principles of theatre... and then some on the psychosocial work for
children. We packed as much as we could into those three days!

The show today was for really little kids -- 90% of them orphaned by
Nargis. The monks set up a small school for local children but, after Nargis, they went down and gathered children who were just lost with no parents and no home. The monk told us that some of the children are still very impaired and still ask when their parents are coming. It’s incredibly sad. And Nargis was in June 2008 so they were even younger then. When we came out on the stilts, however, I think we scared them. But then we made them laugh and all was well. Whew.

Tomorrow we go to Mandalay, the cultural capital of Myanmar, and find out
new stuff. We will see and meet the infamous Moustache Brothers who have been imprisoned many times but still come out and resume their satirical comedy which has become a tourist favorite (so perhaps the gov’t hesitates to really close them down for good). I will report on this
adventure!

~ Joanna & Michael

Week Five: Jaipur

Our fifth and final week in India was for discussion and reflection about the entire Arts Exchange program. It was bittersweet, philosophical and concise.

After a one-night stopover in Delhi (Reena saw her family finally!) we got on a bus and took a 7-hour trip to Jaipur. It was such a long ride and the bus was jam-packed with both people and mosquitos, Reena’s mother sweetened the experience with some tasty desert she’d sent along with her daughter.

On Subhash’s recommendation we stayed at the Anuraag Villa Hotel in the Bani Park section of Jaipur. I can’t recommend it enough to anyone who is going to Jaipur. The rooms were cool and clean and the ceilings tall, painted with the same floral design as the Taj Mahal. It was a beautiful place and perfect for our closing evaluation retreat.

For our meetings, we sat out in the backyard to eat and talk about what we had learned.

For example, Joanna asked, what can we do to insure that this program continues? If it continues, what will it look like? What worked and what could we make even better?

We envisioned taking our “model” program on a tour of the three countries – to Afghanistan, to the US, and back to India. We wrote down the nuts and bolts of our workshop approach, including descriptions of 38 favorite exercises out of the many theater games we shared with each other. We also considered what sort of performance we would like to create next time and how a new show would be possible if we wrote it before the Exchange began, and how could it best reflect current affairs in each country rather than addressing a generic problem.

The sessions yielded 26 pages of notes and a deeper understanding of what it is the three companies have created together.

Aside from these intensely focused discussions, we spent time enjoying each other’s company knowing the end was near. This included tooling around Jaipur and taking one final outstanding trip together to see the Taj Mahal. Yep. It is beautiful.

It was a great surprise in the last days to meet a new extraordinary friend: Rajesh Chauhan, an associate of Ali and Shafiq at the BBC. He was quite simply the Idealest Host Ever. He helped us get our equipment to the airport, getting Ali’s flight back home, and sat and talked with us just cause he is a true believer in hospitality and making visitors welcome. The most touching thing he did was that once he heard about our Lucknow mission to go dancing, he devised a grand plan to take us out before we returned to New York.

Part one of the plan was to treat us to an amazing dinner – our last in India.
Part two was to visit a disco on the way to the airport so we could part ways dancing! Unfortunately, the timing didn’t work out and we ended up having to drop Ali, Jamil, and Rajesh off at the disco and speed directly on to the airport. But the gesture was unforgettable. On the way there, Ali and I sang through the one of our favorite songs once more. It translated, “Where ever I went, you were with me, my love.”

As we left I smiled knowing that sentiment will remain true for all of us on this Arts Exchange. Wherever we go, we will be in each other’s hearts.

We have succeeded in all aspects of what the Arts Exchange set out to do – we have built intense international bonds, exchanged a wealth of artistic practices, proven that theatre crosses boundaries of language and culture with grace and ease, and used our craft to bring laughter and self-expression to thousands of people across India. And we helped to stimulate the minds and imaginations of some of India’s most impoverished populations!

As a very unlikely three-country team, I think we inspired people most through our easy rapport and mutual enjoyment of each other… despite differences in language, religion, world-view, gender, and nationality. Our work together for a greater good – making the world a little happier – allowed us to breathe as one, and be a true team.

Our deepest thanks to all our creative team members in this venture:
Afghans: Jamil Royesh, Shafiq Hakimi, Ahmad Ali Fakri, Zia Murad;
US: Joanna Sherman, Michael McGuigan, Jenny Romaine, Sarah Peters, Meghan Frank;
Indians: Subhash Rawat, Lokesh Jain, Reena Mishra, Shashanta and Bhaswati Mukhopadhyay.
And to our very own State Department (via the Bureau of Educational and Cultural Affairs) to believe that theatre is a valuable means to cross-cultural understanding.

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.

Week One: Delhi (click here for photos)

I will begin by introducing myself. My name is Sarah Peters and I am finishing my graduate degree from Dell’Arte International School of Physical Theater in California. I came to New York to intern with Bond Street because like many, many people, I was impressed and inspired by their work in social humanitarian theater.

This is both my first tour with Bond Street and my first visit to India, so as you can imagine, my excitement level is pretty much through the roof.

This final installment of the International Arts Exchange (the culmination of this three-year project) began in the city of Delhi. This is where we would both rehearse our show and teach theater workshops.
The team includes me along with Artistic Director Joanna Sherman and Managing Director Michael McGuigan from Bond Street of the US. Then there is Jamil Royesh, Shafiq Hakimi, and Ahmad Ali Fakhr (he goes by Ali!) from Exile Theater in Kabul, Afghanistan. And finally, there is Reena Mishra and Founding Artistic Director Subash Rawat and from Purvabhyas Theater of Delhi, India.

We have all come together to collaborate artistically, to train teachers and other trainers in “social theatre” techniques, and to provide theatre-based programs to disadvantaged children and youth, as Joanna says, to “encourage self-expression, creative thinking, and teamwork.”
I am particularly proud to be a part of this international collaboration because it is funded by the Bureau of Educational and Cultural Affairs of the US Department of State. Art exchange has the greatest potential of bringing people together. Art is an act of love and it is with great joy that people share music, theater and educational practices. This funding of a creative exchange is an important counterbalance to more violent actions my government is taking elsewhere. So my job here is to perform and teach, but always with an eye toward building friendship and understanding between our three countries – US, Afghanistan, and India.

We leapt right into it with rehearsals and workshops. We did three days of workshops for a group that included young women from Janki Devi Memorial College and young men from Jamia Millia Islamia University. Our host at Janki Devi, Deepali Bhanot was very enthusiastic about what we taught the students, which ranged from physical expression to stilt-walking to image-based theater techniques. The students were even more enthusiastic with their enjoyment and appreciation. We also did four days of training with young girls at an amazing organization called Project HOPE which aids children and families in the Nizamuddin neighborhood– a very poor Muslim community in Delhi.

As explained by Director Selvi Roy, many of the girls in this program are not allowed by their families to attend school outside the neighborhood, so HOPE has created education within the neighborhood. The program began as only a few hours of study a day which expanded to educate children and adults all day and even into the night. At night, HOPE provides food, shelter and education to young children who come to the Delhi to work and have no families. HOPE has even helped the children organize banking among themselves since normal banks won’t allow minors to open accounts.

The girls of HOPE were bright, smart, playful girls who over the course of four days bravely tried things they’d never done before.

Simultaneously, in the mornings, we rehearsed and updated our play “A Kite’s Tale” which was originally created with Exile Theater in 2005. Our Afghan collaborators had unexpected trouble getting a flight to Delhi and were not able to arrive until Wednesday night! But there was plenty to work on until they arrived as both Reena and I were new to the show.

“A Kite’s Tale” is designed to bring laughs to children and families and it includes music, stilts and silliness to tell the story of 4 children trying to reclaim their playground from an underhanded developer. The message may be more about the idea of actors from three countries working together as much as it’s about the children teaming up to achieve their goal.

Our first performance was a great success! About 300 people from the Nizamuddin neighborhood showed up to watch and laugh and be totally amazed that something so interesting and new should come to their part of Delhi.It was especially exciting to get the show on its feet, since our short rehearsal time was unexpectedly cut even shorter. The Afghans, after struggling to get to Delhi, had to go register the morning of the performance with the foreign registry office. Turns out people from the US and Great Britain are the only visitors who don’t have to do this. I must applaud Ali, the newest member of the Afghan team, who did not have the comparative luxury of rehearsals that Reena and I did. He’s a pro for jumping right into a new show with virtually no rehearsal.

What I have learned this week is that Bond Street Theatre has admirable comfort with a complete change in plans, a sense of ease in chaos, and lots of patience. These qualities are shared by everyone on the team, which means that no matter what, we get through the day with grace.

Other Bits: A girl from HOPE introducing me to her mother. A goat wearing a sweater. Seeing Reena perform for the first time! She was pretty great. My teammates laughing at the big pillow butt I added to my “teacher” costume. Eating a meal as a whole team together for the first time on Thursday. Throwing lentils all over myself and the wall and the floor when I tried to do a plate flip with a plate of actual food. The sound of Ali’s voice singing so sweetly. Joanna and Michael telling tales of the Odin Theatre Anniversary. And tales of fiascoes from previous tours - with only one key for the eight of us, of course someone got locked out just once during the week. The gigantic crowd of laughing kids. The college students from Jamia Islamia being equally excited about who I thought should be president and our show. Being able to call it “our” show.

Week Two: Lucknow (click here for photos)

The week began with a train ride from Delhi to our next destination: Lucknow.

None of us got any sleep the night before. Michael was up virtually all night arranging for a taxi that would pick up me and Ali, and then take us to pick up Reena 25 minutes outside the city, and then come all the way back to the train station by 5:15 am. In the US, this is not as much of an organizational event as it was here. When Michael wasn’t on the phone, he was wondering whether it would all work out. In the end, everything came together.

Everyone was up all night packing and being with friends or family one last time before our tour headed out for the rest of the month. And while Ali and I hardly slept with our 3:45 am departure, Ali softened the pre-dawn taxi ride by singing Afghan songs all the way to Reena’s.

A little bit about Reena: she is a volunteer at Gandhi Smriti (the place where Gandhi last lived and was assassinated). Just as this is my first trip to India, this is Reena’s first time leaving her parents for longer than a few days although she is over 21 years old – quite typical situation for girls. This is also only her second time performing in a play. Her parents were very concerned that she be well taken care of and I feel determined to live up to their expectations. Her mother cried in the early-morning darkness as Reena said goodbye and got into the taxi.

The train ride was a great idea. As it pulled out of the Delhi station, I had a keen sense of the adventure we were about to embark on together and I was flooded with precious memories from my past: first time riding a bicycle, first plane trip across the Atlantic, first day of class at Dell’Arte.

Ali and I wrote commemorative poems (in English - Thanks Ali!):

From a red shard of moon and a sleepless night,
God’s eye burns through the milky morning haze.
Together we fly faster than the birds,
protected by a mother’s tears.
Roses in our hair,
buttered bread in our bellies,
napping content as cats,
we head off to a land of new songs.
There is no other feeling like the beginning.
We wear fresh excitement for the beautiful future,
which stretches in front of us like the train tracks.
-- Sarah, Delhi to Lucknow, March 2, 2008

"A trip to my heart"
Let your beautiful eyes see all these beauties
Look at the romantic sun
It smiles on you
I love her golden hair
Around her beauty face
Let your soul feel all these joys
The trees outside the train
Want you to smile
To hug and to hold in their arms
Can you tell me why we can’t feel these natural happinesses
Yes. Because we don’t seek it around us.
Sarah, still I hear your voice and your violin’s voice
I feel your mixed in fogs
And your music too
Have this phrase in your mind forever
When we think beauty, when we see beauty and when we travel beauty so everything will be beauty for us.
-- Ali, Delhi to Lucknow, March 2, 2008

We saw the beautiful Indian countryside and got to spend some time together – arriving in Lucknow about six hours later, where members of Nisarg (Nature) Theater group – our hosts – helped us get all our many bags to the Executive Guest House where we are staying for the two-week visit.

Just a small bit about Lucknow: it’s known a City of Culture and I am told it is a center of the Hindi language. It was the home base of the Muslim kings of ancient history (Nawabs they were called). Many buildings are crumbling beauties, worn out from the heat and humidity. There are extremely modern, shiny glass buildings too. And then right near those, people live in tents and shacks and make fires every night to cook. The contrast sends me on a reverie on the adaptability and resilience of humanity.

We have had a jam-packed week and I very much look forward to further exploration next week.

Our first order of business was a performance in the village of Shram Vihar – a dusty slum area near the train station. Though we felt, as a cast, a bit shaky with new adjustments to the show, the community watching clearly had a very good time. Here is a first – in the middle of the show, a small herd of goats walked across the “stage” followed by a little old woman who looked a bit aggravated that we decided to play in her goat path. The goats were nonchalant. We stayed after to have chai with members of the village. It was pretty great to be there.

The next day we performed for and met the participants in our next workshop in a rural village of Dewa, about 45 minutes outside the city of Lucknow. In this community there is no electricity, and the people live in brick shelters.

The workshop was organized by Nisarg along with a group called Insaani Biradari and its leader named Adyog. The 30 or so girls came from different villages and Adyog told us that, of the girls there, only three had permission from their fathers. Their mothers knew about and supported their interest to learn about theater and how to use theater for education, but from their fathers and brothers it had to be hidden. The fathers want to preserve what they see as the only appropriate role for women: They must stay in the home and care for the family, far away from exposure to the outside world.

Despite all this - these girls are like smart girls anywhere. They are brave, silly, shy at times, and surprisingly not shy at others.

I ducked out of the workshop to peak at the village one afternoon. As I walked up the narrow dirt road between homes - one child up the way pointed and yelled to about 6 other children who came out to look at me, along with I think their mother. I took their picture and we all had a good laugh at it. These kids don’t see their own image frequently and digital cameras produce some amazement.

I also saw a group of men and women digging the red dirt out into a pile (I imagine for bricks). And several happy cows. And a man and woman puffing rice over a fire – the man shook and stirred this wok-type pan while the woman added grass to the fire, they moved the rice from two gigantic piles – from the raw pile to the puffed pile. They called me over and GAVE me a little bag of it! I couldn’t believe it! I ate it for breakfast all week.

It is such a beautiful place. The people are tough looking. A little on the gnarly side. In utter contrast are the girls of the workshop! The girls are beautiful and seeing the tough skin and thinness of the other villagers, it makes them seem even more astounding. I know they will take what they’ve learned in the workshop to enrich the lives of everyone around them. And what are they learning? How to express themselves freely with confidence, without shyly covering their mouth or putting their head down. To stand boldly and make a statement, or sing a song, or say their name out loud. To feel like a whole person.
This week I have come to love the car ride to Dewa and back, during which we plan for the workshops, discuss how workshops went, and communicate about upcoming events. It was during one of these rides that Shafiq laughingly pointed to one of the many brick kilns off in the distance and said, “You see that? That is a well that they are drying out. They take them out of the ground, and air them out for a while then put them back into the ground. It purifies the water!” Always joking! He also said when he reached for one grape and got a big bunch, “God loves me!” Ha! What a great spirit he has. We were all very sad that he had to return to Kabul for his work with the BBC.

I must mention that also this week we did evening workshops for members and affiliates of Nisarg. These were performers who work doing social theater, who will be able to directly apply what we taught to their own projects. Again the topic of the state of women came up! The first day, Joanna pointed out that of the 40 actors, only three were women. I guess I'm a bit of an American post-feminist. I want to assume men and women are equal and avoid making an issue of it, so I was nervous for how the group would react to the comment. Boy, they had great things to say. Families do not support a woman’s interest in theater. There are certainly many well-known female theater artists, but for most people, the idea is impossible to swallow. One young man said that there is a lot of lip service given to supporting women who want to be involved in theater, but then no one wants their own sisters or daughters to make that choice and that the men must start following through with what they say they believe, which is that there should be equality for women. And Joanna said they could also be more sensitive about making an environment where women feel comfortable to do something that is both new and socially unaccepted. I was grateful that Joanna brought up the topic. I am cracked open. I see these three women, and Reena, my excellent roommate and co-performer with even deeper appreciation.

I have also learned this week what it is like to be given the space and time to grow as a workshop facilitator. I led some workshop sessions that I wish had better transitions or more inspiring explanation, but no one criticized my work, and in fact all were very supportive. I appreciate the space and trust the team gives each other, especially to Ali and I as we step into leading workshops for people who do not share our native language.

Other bits: Shaheen from Dewa teaching me to write my name in both Urdu and Hindi, taking a 24 hour fast with Reena in celebration of Shivratre on Wednesday and getting applauded by the whole Nisarg workshop when they found out, learning about Rosa, the month-long Muslim fast, which will be in October this year, Sangeeta, the assistant manager of the Executive Guest House taking me on her moped to the mall! Having a dance party with Reena along with the Indian music video station on TV.