Casting 'Round Gender Issues

Michael Reporting:

When we last left our intrepid artists (Bond Street Theatre and Simorgh Theatre and Film here in Herat, Afghanistan), the question was: in a culture where a sizable part of the population has reservations about men and women appearing on stage side by side, how do you get characters of one gender portrayed in performances by the other gender? To clarify, it isn’t so much an issue of men and women performing together, since Afghans do produce films and TV shows with male and female actors. It’s a question of who is in the audience.


Here in Afghanistan there is no “theatre audience” per se; no middle class with leisure time and an expendable income, nor any local theaters to go to. Actually, each of the four largest cities have an official National Theatre, but they mainly video their work in-studio and supply the tape to the local TV stations for broadcast. Only on special occasions do they perform live to an invited audience.

Performances are generally welcomed in schools and community centers, but these institutions tend to be segregated by gender. With all the social, political and religious codes to navigate, we decided to create separate productions with male and female casts to offer these venues.

We divided our US team accordingly, with Joanna and Anna working with the girls and I with the boys. It should be noted that “girls” and “boys” is being used to reflect the youthful age of our actors, ranging from 12 to 21 (with an average of 15). Despite their youth, we were greatly impressed by their enthusiasm, commitment and creativity.

For daily rehearsals we rented a local sports facility: a 50’ x 50’ room with matted flooring used by the local martial arts club. In the evenings we met in two small rooms at the offices of Simorgh Theatre. In the first days the US and Afghan directors wrote the scenarios; the girls would tell the story of the relationship between an abusive mother-in-law and her target: the daughter-in-law, and the boys would handle the abusive father and his target: the wife and kids. With the basic storylines and characters set, Monireh and Hakim (Simorgh Theatre directors) cast the parts. We went to our separate rooms (or corners) and started putting meat on the bones.

It was pretty remarkable how both sets of directors, working separately, employed many of the same “tricks of the trade”. Both shows start with a pair of clown-narrators: for the girls it was two trash-pickers, and for the guys two street laborers. Both sets of narrators discover they have control over the action, starting and stopping scenes with the clap of their hands or the blowing of a whistle. A healthy dose of mime is employed to represent teacups and automobiles.  (As I write these words I’m thinking, “this sounds vaguely familiar…”  Oh yeah, Bond Street Theatre’s Powerplay, circa 1984.  Joanna and I playing the Hosanna Brothers.  Exact same techniques.  Steal from the best, I guess!).

An opening bit of comic repartee leads to “hey, that reminds me of a story…” and this sets the stage for our narrators to “play characters” rather than “be characters”. Thus, the female narrators can play at being husbands and brothers, and the males play at being the wife and children, with a nod-and-a-wink to the audience.

Slightly trickier in the men’s show was the little 4 year old daughter. Her character is pivotal, being a catalyst for change in the father, and thus too significant to be played by a 16 year old male. To work around this, we have the father discover a piece of paper in his pocket, a self-portrait draw by the daughter (well, a crude child-like drawing make by me). This drawing became the avatar of the daughter, from which her story could emerge.

As we come up to our first performances, we New Yorkers feel pretty good about the choices that have been made. Still, only the audience can say if the choices are good, and considering that most people even in the big cities have never seen a live performance, we’re not entirely sure our choices are comprehensible.

Next: Final rehearsals, and strange translations.
Soon: The audiences weigh in (including two high schools, a woman’s prison, a drug rehab center, and the para-military police).

Creating the Productions in Herat

From Michael:

All is still well as we are finishing up on week three here in Herat. Our adopted parents are still providing us with excellent meals and room to sleep, and our health and morale are good. There has been a slight yet tolerable increase in the fly population, although there is a lovely breeze that has kept them at bay. Unfortunately, it has also brought the dust, much to the chagrin of our laptops.

We have been working on two new productions, which actually start performances next week. Yikes! Well, no, not really “yikes”; it’s all going well with the art, too.

The task has been is to create a show promoting peaceful solutions to violence and oppression – after all, one of our sponsors is the United States Institute for Peace. We have a choice of topics, from the heavy (domestic violence; racial / tribal discrimination) to the light-yet-also-significant: support of democracy, literacy, health and hygiene. There is no easy choice; even a seemingly “no brainer” can be more than it seems.

Take for example: in our last project, in Myanmar, we (along with our local partners) decided to do a show about hand washing—always an important message, especially in tropical climates where germs multiply and spread fast. Okay, so we create this fun show telling kids to wash their hands and head into the schools and monasteries. Well, at one school, post-show, one of the older kids commented: “Thanks for the show; it was good, but we all KNOW we are supposed to wash our hands. They’ve been telling us that for years. The problem is the water doesn’t come out of the pipes and nobody gives us soap!” Oh. So our message should have been directed to the authorities: “Hey! Fix the pipes and give them soap!”

Aside from trying to troubleshoot show topics, there is also the troubleshooting that goes into the staging. Here in Afghanistan, you have probably heard that the gender issues are complex. It is a pretty conservative society, and even though there are many progressive and liberal Afghans, the line of tradition has been drawn deeply in the dry, rocky soil.

In general, the actors and actresses we are working with have no problem working together (without physical contact, that is); sharing dialogue on stage is fine with them. But they know it won’t fly with most religious or government authorities who give or withhold permission to perform. In fact, Simorgh Theatre (our partners here in Herat) face constant opposition from the local conservative forces. But there is one high ranking and respected Mullah firmly on their side. Actually, he was originally a naysayer, until he witnessed one of their performances at a girl’s high school, and he saw the social benefits of issue-related theatre. He even told us in conversation that he would like to see theatre performances brought into the Mosque! Religious stories, of course; think early church morality plays. But for here that’s pretty damn progressive.

Still, in order to maximize our performance possibilities we decided to create two separate shows: one for men by the actors, and one for women by the actresses. Both shows deal with types of domestic violence that are statistically all too prevalent: husbands and fathers abusing wives and children, and mothers-in-law abusing daughters-in-law. (Married women traditionally live with the husband’s family).

The hand-washing show presented a topic fairly easy to communicate physically, without much dialogue. But domestic violence is complex, and we are relying on the playwriting expertise of the Simorgh directors Monireh and Hakim to create the dialogue with input from the performers. Since we Americans are not appearing in the show (taking co-directorship roles) the local language can flow freely.

But here’s a hitch: how can you present family issues when you can’t have male and female actors working together on the same stage?* Hmmmm. To an extent, women can get away with impersonating men, but on the flip side we’ve seen the male actors at the Kabul University theatre department try to impersonate women, and it was a painful, absurd mockery. They couldn’t get away with it even when they were supposed to be funny, and there is nothing funny about our topic. How do we do it?


TO BE CONTINUED!

*Well, in fact we could probably get away with having male actors in performances for women, but we don’t want to condone the double standard.

From Anna: The Workshops and Our Amazing Students

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

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

Theater, they tell us, serves to reflect our society and its problems in order for us to better see ourselves… Zainab points out that after working on different characters, she now feels she can better understand people, and this is how theater can be useful: to help us understand each other. Mahbouba said that she discovered how she can connect with people, beyond her small circle of friends – through theater she can make a connection with the audience and thereby with people in the community.

Zahra describes how men traditionally have more power than women in the society, but in this workshop she felt equal to the men, everybody on the same level, free and comfortable. Marzia points out that she even forgot the boys were there!

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

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

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

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

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

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

An Update from "The Pied Piper" in Herat

Hello,

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

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

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

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

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

Another fun day in Afghanistan!

Anna's First Update from Herat

From ensemble member Anna, April 7:

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

We are living with our theater hosts’ family. Monirah, the director of Simorgh, the theater company we're working with here in Herat, is fantastic. She’s 26 years old and has already produced several plays and films, together with her husband Hakim. Well, actually they’re not quite married yet, though they finally got engaged, a bit of a scandal here.

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Photos from our Haiti trip

Check it out: Bond Street Theatre In Haiti

We feel so much stronger now!

Finally posting some of my thoughts here from our Haiti trip:

Working with the women of FAVILEK has been amazing. On the first day of workshop, Sylvie, an older woman, comes up to me when she arrives and gives me a big kiss on each cheek. Such joy and spirit and love! There is a sense of great enthusiasm and excitement for our work together.

We start the workshops off with warm-up games for fun and play and energy. We do trust exercises such as leading a blind partner, running blindly into another's arms with all your might, and letting yourself fall trusting that the group is there to catch you. Not only are these 15 artist members of FAVILEK learning to strengthen their core ensemble as a theater group, but they have committed to share this training with other women and girls in their support sessions. So we try to include creative exercises that are useful for psychosocial support, to build self-esteem, confidence and empowerment, as well as for theatrical work. We explore physical and emotional expression through mime and movement play and we do simple acrobatics, too.

But mostly, we work a lot on focus and cohesion as an ensemble. We have everyone walk around within a designated space focusing on being aware of themselves, the space and each other. We then work on choreographic movement and on moving together as a chorus. First, the women are scattered and unfocused and all over the place. There is no purpose to their movement or engagement. But then a beautiful transformation takes place as they start to develop a shared sensitivity and explore creating powerful images together. As Christina so aptly described it below: "imagine the transformation of 15 individuals walking around like psych wards patients in nonsensical circles within a square on the floor to 15 empowered, strong women who command the space and move as one." And the women did indeed feel empowered.

At the end of our three and a half days of workshops, we sit down together in a circle to talk about the experience. How do you feel now, what did you gain, what did you enjoy? They exclaim: "We feel so much stronger now!" Individually, and as an ensemble. Merina, who's quite the spitfire, tells us how here in Haiti things can get dangerous, there are demonstrations and violence, and now she feels strong enough to run and to fight! Wow.

Grandma Sylvie, the eldest, walks up to me and puts her arms around my hips to lift me up. As if to demonstrate her newfound strength. And she does lift me! And then she cradles me like a baby and sings to me. She then goes to Josh to lift him (and Josh is a big guy), and she probably would have done it, but Josh preempts her action and swings her up in his arms instead. And after that they dance.

"Voulez-vous danser? Oui, danser!" I discovered last time I was in Haiti how much people like to sing and dance, and Favilek is no different. So I introduce this little dancing game I learned from the gals in Grande Goave. And we had a blast with that. "Alors, fais comme ca!"

Then the women teach me and Christina a song from their last show with accompanying movements, which was really beautiful to do together. It had a sad air about it, but at least it ends on an upbeat note with "la vie est belle" or "life is beautiful."

Christina Shook Hands with the Michael Jackson...

... of Haiti!

Here is an update from Bond Street Theatre ensemble member Christina Pinnell, who is currently in Haiti.

During our workshop planning session on Monday, we had a chance encounter with Haitian singer, Gracia Delva in our hotel. He was very kind and asked us about our work. He also encouraged us to go outside of Port au Prince and work in the countryside, which we are already planning to do. We aren't entirely sure what he said, but Morlon seems convinced that he will invite us to hang out with him and Wyclef Jean in his "palace" and we will get to do shows with children and then Bond Street will be in a movie. Here's hoping! At least he has our card.

Monday was our first workshop day with the artist members of FAVILEK. We had a late start at first because everyone's clock seems to run at least 30 minutes behind here and then we had to renegotiate the terms of our collaboration. Originally we had agreed to work with 2 groups of 15 women each, one in the morning and one in the afternoon for 5 days. It seems, though, that because of NGO presence in Haiti, most people expect food and transportation to be provided for any sort of workshop or training. We were not prepared for this on our shoestring budget, but with the help of our trusty Haitian partner, Morlon, we were able to make everyone happy. Well, if not happy at least agreed. This cultural misunderstanding brought out a lot of emotions for Anna, Josh and I. Coming from America, where everyone has so much to spare, we of course want to give all that we can. However, when it came down to brass tacks, we could only afford to feed and transport half the original number of women scheduled to attend the workshop. This all came to light in the morning session and we were still expecting the later group. We were prepared to work with the second group just for the day since they were already on their way, however, the FAVILEK members told us it was better that they "didn't get a taste" of the work because they were not going to be able to participate in the whole 4 days. Ultimately, we were there to serve their group, but we were a little shocked by the whole thing. Yet, we have come here to learn and now we know.

In the workshops we have been focusing on strengthening the ensemble and physical expression. We have had some bumps and the women are pretty vocal about what they like and don't like to do. I would say we had a beautiful breakthrough today with a walking in space exercise. We are encouraging them to fill the space and to take turns with focus. I'm not sure how to describe the exercise, but imagine the transformation of 15 individuals walking around like psych wards patients in nonsensical circles within a square on the floor to 15 empowered, strong women who command the space and move as one. Yes, that is a terrible description, but that's what happened today and luckily we have some of it on video. The most important part is the women felt the difference and know they accomplished something through the exercise. I'd say that's pretty cool.

I must say that these women are truly amazing. They each have experienced horrific trauma and tragedy in their lives. Sometimes it is easy to forget that because they are just so open, loving and willing to try what we are presenting. . .until someone asks you if its ok to sit out an exercise because she has bullets lodged in her knee and hip from the coup shootings in '94. That is a pretty sobering reminder. I make a mental note to make sure to ask about injuries at the beginning of our next workshop, but then again that might take up the whole first day. I have to remind myself that though, one commonality the members of FAVILEK share is their traumatic past, namely rape, the more important thing they have in common is the fact that not only have survived, but that they desire to make art and beauty where there is none. Maricia, the first FAVILEK member we met back in January, for lack of a better explanation, lost a chunk of her bicep when her house fell on her in the earthquake. She does have some physical limitations with her arm, but she made some adjustments to the exercises and I'll be damned if she wasn't climbing up on top of the pyramid in the acro section today, These moments are gifts, plain and simple.

Tomorrow is our last day with FAVILEK, but we have a meeting with KOFAVIV and then dinner with Li! Li! Li! in the evening. After the workshop today, we met with Solidarites and will performing for the children in the tent camps in Delmas 60 for the upcoming Carnivale celebrations on March 4th. In between, we will go to Jacmel to perform in the Carnivale there, teach workshops with a Haitian theatre company and hopefully get in a little rest and beach time. Our schedule is packed until we fly home on the 7th, so if you don't here from us, its because we are busy!

Anyway, that's all for now. Bon swa and kiss kiss!

Christina

Haiti Update

On February 16, BST ensemble members Anna Zastrow, Christina Pinnell, and Joshua Wynter got on a plane to Port-au-Prince.  They are kicking off our Haiti project, working with two women's groups KOFAVIV and FAVILEK to use theatre to address the sexual violence in the tent camps.  Support this project here.

Here's what Anna has to say!

Here we are in Haiti, all's well so far. Internet connection not so great.

Friday we had a meeting with Favilek main members about workshops, which went really well and everyone's very excited about working with us. We set up a schedule to do workshops next week (Mon-Fri); one group in the morning and one in the afternoon. After that we will see how to proceed for the following week. The plan at this point is to first do general physical theater workshops, and then proceed to work on their show.

Today we presented our show to Favilek, as a first showing with them as our first audience. It went great, they appeared to really enjoy the show. We had great fun together. At the end, they got up and danced with us! One of the older ladies greeted us with kisses when she arrived, and kissed us as we left. This was sweet and lovely.

Morlon has joined us and yesterday we had a full day of rehearsal.  He's very expressive and creative. And silly!

Saturday we walked through the neighborhood and further on to find a market where we could buy a bucket. We walked all over. It was no problem. Especially with Morlon with us. We had had (or at least I had) the impression that it wasn't really ok to walk down the street, and we really needed a driver. But this was fine. We walked past several camp communities, and past the presidential building that was in ruins.

Tonight there was pre-carnival festivities. We wanted to go out and find another restaurant down the street as opposed to eating at the hotel restaurant. But all the street lights were out, and it was dark, and it really wasn't a good idea to be walking around out there at that point. Which revealed itself to be true, because when we stepped out for a moment, I was confronted by a very aggressive and hostile man. I didn't understand what he was saying, but politely greeted him with a "bon soir" which apparently aggravated him further.

Morlon then made sure to inform us that this man was not a real Haitian man: he was perhaps born in Haiti, but he was not Haitian, because Haitians are very friendly and generous people.

We are doing the workshops at a space a bit farther away, but we can take a taxi, or walk even (we walked all the way back from the space to the hotel, when we checked it out the other day). So we are not using or paying for a driver and car every day. Some days we will need to, though.  (On the other hand, the accommodations are more expensive.)

We are still looking to set up more performances and workshops, and I am in contact with Sinema Anba Zetwal and Solidarite but haven't gotten to meet with them yet. We have not met with Kofaviv yet. We have a full-day workshop planned with Li Li Li on March 2.

That's all for now.

;o]

Anna

Afghan Update: Bamiyan

Getting ready to go to Bamiyan… it’s a bit dicey because we are driving. There are two routes: the southern way (paved) goes through Wardak which is definitely to be avoided if you are foreign or Hazara since it’s Pashtun and thus potential Taliban territory. The northern route (unpaved) bumps along through mountain passes on roads of rubble and sheer cliffs, but passing only has one danger area, the Pashtun villages in the Ghorban valley. This is not a road really; this is a rugged path carved by hundreds of years of donkeys patiently hoofing their way through the precipices, head down, loaded with every sort of tradable item. These donkeys are relentless, dauntless. We are passing them continuously on the path – they nimbly trot through the rubble as we go bouncing along, rattling teeth and brains. What do donkeys think? Do they think? No matter how huge the load, they just keep walking.

The dangers on this precipitous journey run from robberies to kidnappings, and we aren’t too keen on either. So the entire ride with our non-English speaking driver we are asking if we are approaching, in, or leaving this notorious Ghorban valley. Nothing like a 7 hour scary ride to improve one’s language skills, and my Dari is improving daily. I’ve learned khatar = danger, and checkpoint which has a long name but everyone knows ”checkpoint.”

Passing through one town in the long ride to Bamyan, we pass a sheep being slaughtered, its head severed, still shaking and quivering – still alive. A man stands by casually. Sheep are food; sheep are life. Death is a casual event. Meat hangs in front of every butchery, a gory decoration to me, a vegetarian, but even a bit too vivid for meat-eaters who are used to packaged pieces of animals. A wheelbarrow full of hoofed feet stands by with another row of feet all neatly lined up fill the store window. Without the sheep, people could not live. I hear it’s really tasty, this mutton, so fresh, so tender!

Pulling into Bamyan is a little shock after Kabul. Most small cities (or large towns) are clusters of mud walled lanes shielding homes inside from prying eyes, punctuated by alleyways between them, and a few streets lined with rows of small, open-front shops. Bamiyan has one long street of bazaar that welcomes you into the town. It is the town. There are a few cross streets and a lovely river traversing the town, and then endless farms and mud walled enclaves – all in a flat sprawl between the mountains.

But the most prominent feature in Bamyan is that amazing rocky façade of mountain dotted with caves across its impossibly sheer face, and the two huge empty arches where stone Buddhas once towered until the Taliban blew up these treasured statues. There it stands, the huge wall of caves and niches, right there, visible from anywhere in the city the minute you enter, and right there at the end of my block. It’s not hidden, or a bus ride away, or behind a fence – it’s there – the biggest thing in town. It defines the town in more than reputation but in situation. The wall is omnipresent. Farmers are busy at its base tending to crops just as they’ve done for centuries; herds of sheep or goats traipse along looking for edibles oblivious to this majestic masterpiece of nature and man.

So what did the town do as the Taliban destroyed the Buddhas that stood watching over them for a millennium? Did they all come out to watch? Did they have a protest? Chain themselves to the mountain? No… because before the Taliban blew up the statues, they proceeded to massacre most of the Hazara in the area, going door to door and killing every male, and causing a mass exodus of families over the snowcapped mountains. Babies froze, the elderly faltered, men dressed in burqas, women carried their children until they dropped. Who was left in town to dispute the slaying of statues?

Bamyan is the safest province in Afghanistan (once you get there) and one of the poorest (hence our presence here). The locals feel that, since this is the homeland of the Hazara, the government ignores them and isn’t sending them the money for teachers, schools, training programs, etc. Sounds familiar. So the new idea in Bamyan is eco-tourism. Several key development organizations are assisting in staff training and hotel building, and establishing tour groups and media to bring in tourists. Perhaps in a year or two a kiosk selling souvenirs will open at the mountain base, and then a few more, and then a billboard… but, then again, you can’t keep a valley alive selling ladies fingers (aka okra or bamya in Dari).

I hope that tourism won’t bring those elements that plague Kabul: too many cars, unfettered pollution, pickpockets, beggars, high prices, random dangers for foreigners, etc. Already, we were accosted – or jubilantly surrounded – by a swarm of kids as we passed a makhtab (school). The second they saw us, they ran at us screaming like we were Santa Claus. But there was savvy behind the mania. The children (girls and boys) mimed putting on lipstick – clear message: give me lipstick. And they cling, and pinch, and grab your hat and bags, and yell “qalam” (pen) and “bakhshesh” (gift or tip). Someone has been giving children lipstick and pens. Children are the most needy, the least able to survive… but the mass attack was unnerving. We have experienced this before: after a show in a refugee camp in Macedonia during the Kosovo war, I was literally carried off by the sea of excited kids, as I waved madly at Michael who was similarly being swept away in the other direction. We were suddenly the candy they never tasted.

Speaking of Santa, I see Christmas trees here and there – decorated with shiny balls and all – right here in Afghanistan. “We like Christmas here,” they tell me. Of course, why not? The Christmas event is noted in the Quran along with the virgin birth and angelic visits.

One more word on Bamiyan… the province – the only one with a woman governor – is not as well served by humanitarian organizations as are the areas besieged by war. Many in Bamyan suggest that it would be a better strategy to improve the safest areas, such as Bamyan and Badakhshan, to serve as models for the other provinces. Give Bamyan good schools and hospitals, provide services in the mountain villages, improve agricultural methods and transportation, and let the other provinces get the message that peace attracts aid, not violence. Of course, the counter arguments are many. Every battle-weary village in Ghazni, Qandahar, Helmand or Wardak wants peace. Only the handful of troublemakers that are bought and paid for by another handful of wealthy outsiders who profit from war want its continuance. What family in Uruzgan wants a life of fear and insecurity for their children? None. Some of the most conservative areas may share traditions with their Talib cousins, but no one wants bombs at their son’s wedding or daughter’s school. Families are alike the world over and bemoan their lost children.
 
from Joanna's Afghan journal

Afghanistan Update: Rameen

Rameen, our friend from Afghan Communicator who was born in Kabul and raised in the US and now returned to help rebuild the country – one of the few returnees -- says that this is not the Kabul of his youth. It’s full of “hillbillies,” he says. When refugees returned from wherever they went, they all came to Kabul. Add to that the general trend toward urbanization that comes after war, drought and famine, and you have a city full of country bumpkins. They know nothing, Rameen complains, about how to operate in an organized, civil society. They are relentlessly tribal and dismiss anything outside their sphere of understanding – such as, entrepreneurship, modern trade practices, money managing, rewards for merit rather than familial ties, etc.

Rameen has set up a beautiful gallery of arts, from exquisite calligraphy (a famous art of Afghanistan) to crafts, clothing and furniture. He already has money, so he is seeking out the best artists, buying their goods, getting them further training at his expense, and selling their artwork with negligible markup. This kind of support for the arts is rare though, and Rameen returned determined to bring back the arts and to encourage self-respect among fine artists and train them in entrepreneurship. He speaks strongly against turning Afghanistan into a “beggar nation.” All this money flowing into the country is hampering the people’s ability to solve problems and survive on their own. All this building of hospitals and schools but no trained doctors and teachers to fill them.

Okay this was Rameen’s rant but it fits right in with this lack of global coordination of aid.

From Joanna in Kabul.

Afghanistan Update:

Sorry, since this is our fact-finding journey, so we have more news reportage than uplifting tales about the joys of working with the children.  It has been very interesting hearing from each arts group and NGO about their trials and successes.  But we are trying to locate the artists that are truly dedicated to the craft and recognize how rewarding and effective it can be, and see beyond the TV cameras and sheltered stages (where only the invited or intellectuals go) and are happy to go out into the rural provinces. 

We were invited to give a presentation to the Theatre Program students. For the presentation, Professor Hussainzadah gave a nice opening about our place in new Afghan theatre history and we showed the students our "Theatre for Peace" video with Dari translation (well done by Sharif) for the narration.  Then I described the point of the project – that you theatre students have an essential role in improving life in Afghanistan – beyond reviving the art of theatre, beyond being on TV or film – using theatre as a newspaper for the majority of Afghans that live in the provinces and can’t read and have no access to information and don’t know that they have no access to information.  Most of the students were heartily in favor of this kind of theatre and ready to sign up then and there. They responded with genuine concern and idealism, not the lure of money. 

And then, typically, I had to stir things up – I mentioned an idea I’ve had for awhile, an idea that upon mentioning to my hosts and others, was greeted with tremendous skepticism. The Theatre Program has almost 300 students, and only eight of them are women (and none of them are actors, only playwrights and directors).  Here was my ultimate test – idealistic students – all of them male but one.  My idea is that the University should create a “women’s theatre group” specifically to perform just for women, and especially for women in the provinces.  And where would they gather the women to perform for them?  Most villages have rudimentary community centers where the men hang out to smoke and chat, so why not have one night as “women-only night” and only women and their children are allowed. Then we can present our play by women, about women, and for women. I asked them: don’t they see how essential it is – if you have important information about breast-feeding or women’s hygiene or pregnancy, you can’t expect the men to relay this information to the women. You have to reach them directly!  Well --- this caused quite a stir!  Sharif said that the more prevalent response amid the ruckus was, yes, this may be possible. The others shook their head and said no way was this going to happen.  The one woman at our presentation left amid the stir – perhaps she was embarrassed to be the object, even obliquely, of the discussion.  (But maybe she just had to go to the loo.) 

Rameen had told me a story when I mentioned the idea to him. He said he was advising a women’s group and they complained to him that they wanted to start a Women’s Forum but the men, who had a Men’s Forum, wouldn’t let them.  So Rameen asked the men what the problem was. They thought this idea of a Women’s Forum could only mean trouble for them, that the women were going to gang up on them.  He then asked the women what they intended to discuss at their Forum and, of course, it was just issues about health and family and the like.  Now in Islamic tradition, mothers reign supreme – mothers are tops.  So he asked the men if having a Mother’s Forum would be okay.  The men said of course it would be fine!  So the women established a Mother’s Forum with no problem. Recalling this story, I made sure in my presentation – and especially my question at the end – to refer to Mothers Night at the community center rather than Women-only Night so the men would be more apt to agree. 

After the discussion, one group of students came up and informed me that they themselves were doing a show about women’s rights in the provinces – performing for the women.  This is allowed: for women to see men perform.  I told them that they should also take care to perform for the men too, so they have a better understanding about women’s rights.  This group also thought that they could arrange a performance by a group of girls as I had suggested, and that girls would be willing to be on stage and perform if it were under these circumstances. 

Interestingly, this student group was all Hazara and, for Americans this means nothing, but for Afghans, the Hazara are the most put-upon tribe/ethnicity.  It’s quite comparable to being black – the prejudice is deep-seated, less noticeable in some arenas and huge in others.  They are less represented in government, but widely appreciated for their arts; they were decimated during the mujahideen civil war (which was primarily inter-tribal) and are less often hired except among their own businesses.  My hosts are all Hazara, and doing very well in business.  So it was interesting for Sharif, who is also Hazara and very sensitive to the issue to see a Hazara group perform – they did a short comedy skit during the class – and then speak up about women’s rights. He was quite complimentary about the group’s performing even though he swears little interest in theatre.  But he is always very attuned to anything accomplished by Hazara, and consequently Michael and I are now very sensitive to who’s behind the counter in a store, who’s sweeping up, who’s on the bus and who’s driving the bus.  It seems things have become more polarized in Kabul – neighborhoods are more clearly defined by tribe and Sharif feels more comfortable driving in certain areas. Hazara are considered the descendants of Genghis Khan, an outside invader from centuries ago, because Hazara look slightly Chinese. It’s remarkable that this feature remains after all this time, I assume because there isn’t much inter-tribal marriage. Also, and maybe more important, prejudice is doubled because the Hazara are Shia and most of Afghanistan is Sunni. 

From Joanna in Kabul  

Afghan Update: The Role of Theatre

Theatre is a good solution to the information problem. It really is effective in the few places it goes…. but it’s just not generally accepted. That's partly because it doesn’t sound proper, but mostly because people don’t know what it is! It’s as though they never had a tradition of theatre. In fact, Afghanistan enjoyed a long history of traveling actor-poet-comedians who roamed the country acting out stories from Islamic and mythical tales with one fellow acting all the parts with different voices and accoutrements. But a collective of actors on the stage didn’t emerge until the early 1900s and came into its own in the 50’s and 60’s. Even a women’s theatre was formed in 1958 for audiences of all women. Gradually the audiences for these plays were mixed men and women. Then, as we know, the best actors fled the country during the Russian invasion, then the civil war in the 90’s, and the Taliban finally put the theatre into the grave.

So you have a country of mostly deeply traditional, rural, uneducated people in the provinces, cities full of these country folk who come to the city for work, a huge expatriate population of the best Afghan actors and intellectuals scattered about the globe, and youngsters growing up today who have no knowledge of theatre or memory of any tradition of theatre. Even the students entering the Theatre program at the University, reports one of the Theatre instructors, actually do not know what "theatre" is. How would they know? What have they seen in their province? So why are they there? They are there because they have seen people on TV but they have no knowledge of live theatre and no idea that one might perform for a live audience. Really, Salahuddin, one of the teachers says he is amazed (he has the 1st and 2nd year students) that they have no knowledge of live performance whatsoever, having never encountered it.

He begs us please send DVDs of performances -- Shakespeare, Brecht, Ibsen -- anything from the Western tradition so they can see a play. We left a full version of "Beyond the Mirror" and small excerpts from four of our productions, but we are not classical theatre, we are symbolic, non-realistic, physical-visual theatre... which is good too. But they need exposure to everything so they will get a balanced view of theatre from many genres. The Germans sent in a puppetry teacher who taught the animation of objects, but he didn’t teach puppet-making, so they have a successful puppet theatre now sponsored by the Goethe Institute, but the puppets are rough and amateurish looking. However, the children love the puppets all the same.

Theatre is so unknown that it presents a problem to tackle right off when trying to go into the provinces. We have to find some forward-thinking village leader who will take a chance. Then when they see that this thing called theatre is funny and amusing and educational, they like it… mostly. Once, Parwaz Puppet Theatre told us, they did about half the show and had to quickly pack up and leave a village. Yet we saw photos of them in the mountains of Bamiyan, with the villagers carrying their gear up and up and up the mountain with them tagging along behind. Then, after all this lugging of gear, the villagers loved the show! They said this was one of their most rewarding performances because, really, these people so far up in the hills never dreamed of something like their puppet show (about children’s rights). We had the same experiences in Pakistan in one refugee camp where we had to leave in a big hurry, and the same completely rewarding experience taking our show to remote villages around Andkhoi (a small town) where people flocked from miles around to see the amazing show!  Our experience is – and same with the theatre groups we spoke to – people may be very skeptical and disapproving to start, but almost always, when they see the funny-business and imaginative puppets or characters or antics and music, they just love it. And they see that it is not un-Islamic and actually carries a good message for their children. And everywhere, people love their children.

from Joanna in Kabul

Afghan Update: Meetings, NGOs, and International Aid

We have had great meetings... with Kabul University, theatre groups, NGOs, old friends, cultural organizations, etc. and the Embassy.  Everyone has been very happy to see us, interested in the project, hopeful for its success, and yes... they do see dollar signs when they look at us, but most have been genuinely helpful, interested and generous.

Prof. Hussainzadah, the head of the Theatre Department at Kabul University was our first stop – he knows everyone in the theatre business in all of Afghanistan, and has been introducing us to every director of note and the most promising students and inviting us to the important events. Fortunately there was a big Arts Festival at the famous Bagh-e Babur (Babur’s Garden) that attracted directors and artists from all the provinces. We met the Directors of the National Theatres in Herat, Mazar, Jalalabad and Jowzjan Provinces, and have gotten a good sense of what their needs are, who funds them, how they survive, and their hopes or doubts about the future. And we’ve met some of the smaller theatre groups and see how they survive. In a nutshell – foreign money.

The Goethe Institute is the big funder for arts here, and the Norwegians. There’s money flowing into Afghanistan from everywhere, for every purpose, for odd scraps of time… and it’s completely disorganized. No one seems to coordinate with anyone else. Wouldn’t it be great if the Norwegians, who are sending four actresses here to work with the girls at the University for one week (!) to coordinate with us who will be working for five months, and with the French who only seem to bring Afghans to France for extended study, with the Germans who fund this and that theatre group with no communication with anyone else?


It’s really a lesson for us to stay in touch with these groups so we can try to coordinate a plan to move theatre forward in some concerted way. For example, the theatre director from Herat said every foreign group that comes in a requests they do a play about HIV-AIDS. So you have dozens of plays about AIDS and the real issues of water use, agri-practices, anti-corruption, or whatnot are ignored. I get the gist – these are all fine ideas but it might be better to let the Afghans make some decisions about what is important to address. But the counter to that is – the Afghans only want to line their own personal pockets and aren’t looking at the big picture. And the government – that does look at the whole picture – is too corrupt to organize and implement anything. Sigh.

from Joanna in Kabul