Shamim in the garden.

It’s a Friday full of sweetness and sadness for me.  I leave in a couple of days and I am spending this lazy Friday visiting friends to say goodbye … until we meet again.

Everything about the city seems magical today.   The mountains are glowing white, circled by grey clouds.

The streets are calm and people are out and about.

Yes, this is Kabul too.

I visited a lovely part of the city today.  Nouria who is the housekeeper invited me to her home and I also had lunch at the home of my colleague – and training assistant – Sepas.

Their neighborhood is green, tranquil and full of old homes made in the traditional style with natural mud called gila.

Nouria walks ahead.

An old door.

Chickens in Nouria's yard.

Sepas and his kind father.

Sepas has worked with me for the last two years and I finally got to meet his lovely and gracious family.  He loves theater and is passionate about Theater of the Oppressed.

Yesterday, the last day of the training, he said that this theater is a theater that people can trust and he thought it could be the strongest form of theater in Afghanistan.  I cried.

The groups from Herat, Khost and Baghlan were amazing during the final performance and I was so proud of their audience facilitation.  They were able to get people talking, sharing ideas and even had a few audience interventions on stage.

Audience member steps in as the daughter to convince "her" uncles to send her to university.

During our evaluation I asked each member to say one new thing they learned – a concept, game, technique.  One actor said previous to this training, he saw the oppressed as the loser; killed, beaten, or otherwise defeated.  Now he sees that the oppressed are always trying; the struggle always continues.

I am sad to leave Kabul but proud that the main concepts of artistic liberation have take root with groups in 6 different provinces.  The groups are strong, creative and dedicated to making society more human despite the inhuman conditions all around them.  I hope that we can continue to teach each other and learn together.

Next big plan: bringing groups from Afghanistan, Iran and Pakistan together to share community arts practices and discuss how local culture and arts initiatives can be used to address issues that are common in all three countries.

Any ideas for support, let me know!

Haydari is on the far left. he made me this amazing dress, pants and scarf.

Oh, one more thing … this morning I had a great surprise.  I was visited by my former students from Jalalabad who came up to Kabul with a parting gift for me.  Haydari – who is a tailor as well as an actor – made me a traditional Afghan outfit and I cried.

The kids cheer after seeing their cousin on TV.

Tomorrow is my last day of training.  The actors from Khost, Baghlan and Herat are going to perform two short Forum Theater plays for a limited audience of friends and colleagues.

At the core of both stories is the question of whose decisions are respected?  Who has the power to make a life choice, and who doesn’t.

The eldest uncle shows his displeasure.

The first story is that of a young girl, Faribah, and her widowed mother.  Faribah’s excited that she passed her exams and her mother is unsure but proud that she’ll go to university.

However, there are two uncles standing in the way.  They are afraid that a girl in the world will sully their reputation, besides, this is the first time such a thing would be happening in this family.

In the end, mother and daughter have no say in the matter … or do they?

The second story is one of a young man whose dream it is to be an actor.  His uncle sees him in a drama on TV and threatens to kick him out of the house.  The boy’s father supports him but he has no money nor resources to rely on should they be kicked out of the house.

Will Mirza be forced to abandon his dreams for a roof overhead?  Can a young man choose to be an artist?

Our discussions around the play have been about choice.  Who gets to make the choice, which choices are respected and how long is the distance is between law and customary practice.

When someone is threatening your livelihood – you aren’t cavalier with the outcome.  Especially not in a country like Afghanistan where many family members live under one roof and off of one income.

What is the value of the arts in society?  Other careers are respected, but art is overlooked.  (Seems like Afghanistan isn’t that different from many places in this regard.)

How can we redefine the value of arts in society – not just in terms of money but in terms of how art feeds society and makes it healthy.

In the case of the mother and daughter, how does someone access rights they don’t know they have?

How to bring the culture, values and norms in line with formal law … or create mechanisms of justice that are rooted in culturally respected practice?

Faribah sulks while her mother tries to push for her education.

How to fight oppression and internalized oppression so that people feel worthy of accessing justice?

Our discussions have been robust and I am pleased that the actors are engaging in thinking and rethinking their assumptions.  Often times they start out with the “P.C.” answer, then express a non-P.C. answer, and then have lively discussion about why each side is wrong!

They head out to their provinces on Friday where they will perform these shows and then create a brand new one with their full groups.  I can’t wait to hear what they do, what discussions they have, and how theater is bringing about discussion, debate and self reflection. 

I am off to an Afghan wedding tonight … stay tuned for photos!

Love K

Rustom trying to fly away.

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?

This week was a long week with lots of prodding and pushing. We were telling stories about oppression, personal experiences of oppression, something simple, clear. I started by asking them to make a frozen body sculpture of one such experience.  After the activity, we spoke about what they were showing.

Rahella and Zahra making an image.

It turns out no one made an image of something from their own life! They made images from other people’s lives, images from stories they heard, or things they saw. They were finding it hard to access those personal stories, without compounding them with others.

I asked my translator Walizada if it was the translation. We tried a few different times but it didn’t seem like it was working. Then some folks said they weren’t oppressed!

Who me, oppressed? I'm chilling!

Hmmm … let’s see where we go with this.

Or fester like a sore—

And then run?

The next day I had them make group sculptures of an oppression seen in society. Poverty, unemployment, lack of education – they named the issues. They created 4 or 5 frozen scenes to show a problem playing out. This time, almost every one of them included weapons, force, and violence on top of the social issue shown.

Zarmuhammed and Noorwali take an image. In the background, similar stances are seen.

When we discussed these images, it turns out that everyone’s lives have been interrupted by decades of war.

Mirzagul and Noorwali showing an image of a suicide bomb attack.

Their educational opportunities, their opportunities to work and the simple ability to live in stability and peace are things that were torn from them and the lives of their families. Stories were of kidnappings, gunshots, fleeing armies, and enduring the Taliban.

Their lives are like a body whose parts are chopped off by the cleaver of war and the effects of war. It is only recently that they’ve tried to put those pieces back together.

Does it stink like rotten meat?

Or crust and sugar over—

like a syrupy sweet?

But how can a society of amputees be expected to get up and run a marathon? They need to heal, to gather themselves together, to become whole.

Sami leading Tagobi and Ziamurad.

Rahella tries to see what's on the other side.

Maybe it just sags

Or does it explode?

Finally, I had them do a visualization of a desire they once had but weren’t able to fulfill – a simple desire from childhood or early in their lives.

They were to then imagine a journey to find that lost desire, what would they have to do to get to it? Would they have to climb a mountain, swim in the ocean, walk a long road?

And lastly, when they reclaimed that desire, what animal would it turn into?

This brought out such wonderful imagery and rich explorations. Rather than speaking of problems, which are MANY, we spoke about lost desire. This allowed them to dig under the trauma, the constant instability, the uncertainty, to a place where they dreamed of a better future.

Fariba leads with her whole self.

The stories that they expressed were simple desires of a time when they could consider going after small, personal desires.  One person spoke of wanting to learn to swim, another spoke of wanting to ride a bicycle all over her town,  a third person shared their desire to be an artist but was forced to start working at age 12.

One person wanted to be an archeologist but this knowledge and course of study wasn’t offered.  Another spoke of wanting to walk to a neighboring village to see an eagle that was said to live there.

Ajmal looks back to find his lost dream.

It was wonderful to be able to have them reconnect with a part of themselves buried under the rubble of violence and war.

From these desires we are going to build our play.  There was a definite change in the air after they embodied their animals and many spoke of regaining a sense of dreaming.

Mirzagul exploring the activity.

These men, women and girls all have figured out how to use creativity, intelligence and the few resources they can get to bring art and goodness to their society.  They are transforming into birds of freedom, bringing messages of life, vibrant hopes and collective endeavor to their communities.

Monira summarizes some of the history of the Theater of the Oppressed.

I keep reading articles on the international failure to turn around Afghanistan, on the increasing Talibanisation, on the decreasing women’s rights.  But you never hear of artists taking their lives and their futures into their own hands and setting off to create new avenues of change.

Please tell people about this work.  About the thousands of Afghans who are healing their society, who are working for whole communities, who are making a way where there is none.

It won’t happen over night, not even in 10 years.  But slowly and surely these birds are gonna take flight.  Let’s support their soaring ambitions.

Fly high.

Live footage on TV of the fighting near the Parliament building.

I was completely unaware of the attacks in Kabul today until much later in the afternoon.  Our office is far from the areas targeted in a normal, very Afghan part of the city.  No embassies, international NGOs, or political offices.

Some young men, this afternoon, were trying something; filled with fear, rage and hopelessness.  I thought about the poor victims, their families.  And then I wondered about the lives of these fighters.  How dark and confused must their way be?  6 men against national and international armies isn’t a fair fight, and they know it.  They know that the most they can do is to disrupt things for a day or two before dying in the fight.  It saddens me that no one had a candle for them.  No one could help them see a future worth living for.  They had given up on life.

The actors discussing one of the activities with each other.

The 3 new theater groups, from Herat, Khost, and Baghlan provinces,  are creative, intelligent and passionate about their work.  They have no illusions about the problems they face, but they are convinced that through creativity, through hopeful and truthful dialogue, they can move towards unity.

They are committed to trying something too.

The pear tree in the AEPO office garden.

Through struggle we bring forth the ripened fruit of a changed tomorrow.

We never stand still; motionless as life breezes by.

The roots of the problem tree looking at the lack of security in Afghans' lives. They know just what they're facing.

Circle of Knots. The actors try to unwind themselves from each other. How do we move together towards a common goal?

We move in the wind.

Sometimes with it,

Sometimes against it.

Siddiqi explaining his idea to Ibrahimi.

Ever changing, we remake our reality.

This past week I have been changed by the fortitude, brilliance and endless capacity of Afghan artists.

Sepas explaining the idea of constant action and reflection in life as well as in the theater.

They use their creativity to make the impossible possible.  Both through their art and through the inventive strategies they deploy in order to do their work safely, effectively and with maximum resonance with local audiences.

Writing out a storyline together.

The group from Kandahar has hired a “white beard”, an elder to join their group.  He has a small acting role but more than that, he is a way they project their respectability to the communities they visit. Elders are treated with reverence and having one in your group tells people that this group must be alright.

Hands passing cookies, making tea.

The group from Nangarhar was greeted with a remote explosion as they left a village who wasn’t keen on their play.  Still they move forward.

There is something Haydari wants you to know.

They want to keep working and learning.  They want to travel the world, they want the world to see their work.

When I asked them what makes them hopeful they told me that there is much hope where they live.  They spoke about the talented, creative people who live in Afghanistan and do so much with so little.  They only want a chance to do well, to be allowed to succeed.

It's a bright, new day.

Haydari and Neda.

The groups talked a great deal about who they should work with in the field, how to find allies.

They spoke about how they can use these techniques not just to create plays with their groups, but with everyday people who want to make the world a better place.

It was with teary eyes that I said goodbye to my brothers.

I know that they are going to do huge things to transform their world through theater.

I can’t wait to be their student … well, I already am.

Ibrahimi summed it up well with this poem he composed:

This is an improvisational poem in Pashto.
It’s so difficult to translate poetry. You can’t do it word for word. This is the general feeling:
“It is only through the grace of love that we are here together. Just think! What separate lives we have. You from where, and I from where?”

We have made a connection, and we are responsible to love.  More soon.

Soul Train line ... Afghan style!

It’s hard, hard work here in Kabul.

This is a very important step in the process. Hard, hard work!

Oh, yes.  Theater of the Oppressed, it can be so challenging to figure out how to end oppression.

Grrr. I forgot to write his name down so now I can't remember it. He's one of the general caretakers at the office.

But some people really do have to work hard.

Safiullah, a driver at AEPO. He has 6 girls and 2 boys. He told me when I'm ready to have kids, I should only have two!

I get to live a dream. I have a career that I have chosen, and in fact created, for myself.

Others have to work to feed their families.

The tea manager fuels our engines!

Through this blog you get to hear about my work (which I consider a joy and a blessing), and the work of the different Afghan theater groups.

Baba jaan is re-seeding the grass at the guest house.

What you don’t see are all the hard working people who make my job easier; who help me to be comfortable and who support me with warm smiles and a thousand small acts of kindness.

Aman, my awesome driver!

Gul Agha and Wali Bhai, part of the kitchen staff.

This post goes out to all the people who work so hard behind the scenes so I can do my best.  Without you, there is no me.

My amazing translator Walizada.

The gate keeper or doorman, Jalah.

Farid the program coordinator. He makes sure all my needs, and whims, are met!

Najeeb, the program assistant. Farid and Najeeb share an office. Their office is my second home.

Jawed, one of the drivers. He lives and works in Kabul and his family is in Pakistan.

After the latest barrage of bad news and cynical commentary on Afghanistan I was conflicted about returning – scared that this time I’ll really encounter all the awful things the news tells me I’ll encounter.  I was nervous and doubting myself.  Hopelessness was pushing in.  But I have insisted on life; choosing to believe in the particular truth that comes from observing and interacting with real human beings.  People with histories and futures not portrayed in the mass media.

So here I am, in the middle of it all.  The snowy mountains watch over me, the sun bright in the sky.  Soaking in the goodness of Kabul I come back to life, back to reality.

What waits for me?  Girls walking to school, men and women waiting on a corner for taxis, vendors calling out their wares, a herd of sheep.

It’s spring and the trees are budding with fresh life.  Yes, that’s what I’m met with in this city of dusty dreams; pulsing life.  Text messages come in from colleagues to tell me they miss me.   I fall in love all over again.

Bread, bread, bread!

Yesterday was Jumm’e the day of rest and Zabi, the cook and houseman, took me on a walk of the neighborhood.  Not much was happening today, the streets are quiet.

Hey? ... Hay!

We pass through a small street with a stall selling straw, another selling chopped wood for the bukhari (a little metal stove used to heat the house in winter), a stall with a machine which looks like it bats down cotton, a prolific bread shop, and some auto repair shops.

One street was filled with tailors’ shops, kind of like a mini garment district.

No bunkers here.  No hiding from life.  No retreating nor surrender.  Only life, transformation, movement.

Cynicism and hopelessness is dealt a mortal blow by people’s will to create their own futures.  Ooooh yes, I’m back, and the reality of being here resurrects my faith in positive transformation.  I suppose it’s right on time for Easter and Passover.  Coming out from the dark, transcending oppression, reveling in life.

Hello, kind man.

On Sunday my advanced workshop starts.  I am excited for the actors to take the lead and explore how these techniques help people to articulate their hopes and dreams for a better tomorrow.

From the theater’s stage to life’s stage – they can’t stop and won’t stop … so neither will I!

Keep on truckin'

So while you are eating that matzoh or painting that egg, remember life is growing here.  There is freshness and green and much goodness to come.

More soon … K

P.S. – tell a friend about this work.  We need people to have images of life in Afghanistan, rather than death.

Zabi models the new hoodie I bought him.

I am preparing to go back to Kabul for a month of trainings and am thrilled to see my work build on itself.  The first two groups I trained are coming back and I will be offering them new cultural tools for community engagement, collective problem solving and local healing.  After this advanced workshop, a few members will stay with me to co-facilitate a brand new training with 3 new groups!

By Luba Lukova

Just like a creeping vine, the roots are spreading downwards and the leaves are climbing upward.  Radical theory and technique are getting a chance to take root and adapt in a new place.  A few more rounds of this and a network of culture workers in Afghanistan will be able to collectively work together to address larger scale issues!   And isn’t that what it’s all about?  Big change, big dreams, having a big life?

And speaking of having a big life, I have BIG NEWS!  My proposal to the Fulbright Commission was accepted and I will be in India, for 7 months next year, doing research on traditional Parsi embroidery for my new play “Paisley”!  I’ll be a Fulbright Scholar.

This will allow me to work more closely with South and West Asian artists and scholars broadening networks of cultural activists!

Blimey that's a big bloom!

Slowly and deliberately creative change takes root.  When it blossoms, our static reality is transformed into something living!

So how can you support this work, simply and freely? 

- I’m going to end my emails blasts so sign up on the blog.  No passwords, no B.S. just new updates every so often.

- Tell someone about these projects and get them excited.  The more information people have about cultural activism, the more more likely it is to succeed.

- Hope springs eternal so don’t believe the hype about Afghanistan, or any other place or people, being hopeless.  Cynicism is a form of oppression and it paralyzes us.  You don’t have to believe in magic but do believe in deliberate, thoughtful action.

See you in Kabul ….

Kayhan.

In my ancestral part of the world, South and West Asia,  the festival of Holi, (celebrated in South Asia) and Norooz (celebrated in West Asia), are coming up this month.  Holi is March 8, Norooz is March 20th.  Both feature fire, a meditation on righteousness and lots of color.

During Holi, people burn large bonfires in public and rededicate themselves to placing good over evil.   Then they revel in a day-long public celebration of throwing water and color on each other.  The internal struggle brings one in line with the natural struggle of life over death, the emergence of color and vitality after the dormancy of winter.

For Norooz, large bonfires are set in public the Wednesday before New Year (Chahar Shanbeh Soori) and people jump over the fires with an intention to receive the fire’s strength and to burn away their own stagnant energy.

On New Year’s day they set elaborate tables of colorful items to signify the New Year’s blessings and renew themselves and their intentions for the world. Again, the permanence of goodness and harmony is insisted upon after the discord of winter. Our fears are allayed by nature’s process of sending out color and sustenance, and also by our inward journey to bring light to those places colored by the messages of oppression.

I love all the metaphors of fire and light and the duality between lightness and dark, but also in the duality of fire itself.  Fire can kill and harm, but it can also purify and enlighten.  Why? What distinguishes a  beneficial fire from a destructive one?  Actually, it isn’t the fire at all.  It’s the person or thing the fire is acting upon.  So what power do humans possess that can change the way a fire burns?

Looking up the dictionary definition of “consume” I am struck with the negative connotations:
1. to destroy or expend by use; use up. 2. to eat or drink up; devour. 3. to destroy, as by decomposition or burning. 4.to spend (money, time, etc.) wastefully.

These references make me feel like I can’t stop the machine of consumption.  We become objects in a larger process, we are consumed by capitalism, consumed by oppression, and we then consume others.  An external force that neither I, nor anyone I know, created.  So can this external force be purified?  Transformed?

image: Luba Lukova

Yes!  But not BY consumption … WITH consumption. When you are consumed with something, the fire comes from within.  Even if it scares you, it’s your flame, it’s your best vision, and stepping into it means to step into your own light.  We must discern what type of energy we are being consumed by or with.  Are we preoccupied with the heat of oppression, believing the smoky distortions, falling victim to them?  Or are we focused on our own fire; walking in the light of what we know is true?

I’ll be busy this month with workshops and talks before I go back in Kabul at the end of the month. I hope you can make one of my events.  Let’s find our brightest path, shout FIRE, and walk into the flames!

Here are some Asian artists igniting flames of love and equity, helping people shake off the darkness through the arts.  I hope their work reminds you that in every single country there are remarkable, innovative artists working for liberation.

Studio Revolt in Cambodia: the studio collaborates with emerging Cambodian and deported artists to assert a new generation of narratives. Together we will shape a new movement that frees Cambodian imagination and consciousness beyond war and poverty.

Interactive Resource Center in Pakistan:  striving to build consciousness among marginalized sections of the society in Pakistan regarding their basic rights. Newsletter with videos here.

Ashtar Theater in Palestine: It is a dynamic local Palestinian theater with a truly progressive global perspective. It aims at promoting creativity and commitment for change.

What does “artist as leader” mean?  What does it look like in our world?  So often there is so much confusion about the role (and significance) of artists in our society.  I have been forced to think about this since the passing of Whitney Houston.  I’ve been plagued with feeling stupid for crying over the death of “an entertainer”, a Hollywood persona.  I’ve been embarrassed to speak with much feeling about her death, afraid to be perceived as being ridiculous and shallow.

Yes, really, I'm talking about Whitney.

But what I have come to understand is that I was both mourning the loss of a brilliant artist who’s voice moved millions, and the loss of an artist who was struggled with her own sense of self worth in this contradictory society.

The oppressive elements in society needs us to suppress our creativity in order to maintain the status quo.  To send this message, artists, those who have dedicated their lives to art and creativity, are targeted.  A friend of mine said that artists need to live in water deep enough to drown them.  And that is what society does.  It submerges the creative in all of us.

Hello, wer're really important. Illustration by Luba Lukova

The messages that are broadcast in our society about artists are that we are irresponsible, stupid, drug addicts, mentally ill, have questionable morals; and that art is frivolous, a diversion, not serious work, it’s only for some people, it’s stupid, and can’t pay the bills.  In order to maintain the status quo, we need artists to remain on the fringes of society, barely visible, always teetering on the brink of poverty and irrelevance.

These messages get enforced from a very early age.  Imagine an adult asking you, with pleasure, if you are going to be a lawyer or a dancer when you grow up; what about a firefighter or a painter?  From a very young age, we are steered away from art-making as a life choice.  The marginalization of the arts and of artists means that art-making as a life choice is extremely hard to accept. We all, at some point, have suppressed our own creativity and locked it away in order to live in the “real world”.

Artist’s being marginalized goes hand in hand with the suppression of creativity in society.  Creativity is powerful.   And that brings me to my main point: art and creativity are the most powerful forces we have for liberation.

by Luba Lukova

Art can bring people together.  We don’t even need tospeak the same language.

Art can make a way out of no way.  When people are living in oppressive situations, artists can help imagine a way out.  The fight for another world has to imagine that the impossible is possible.

Artists never stop questioning.  Creativity means to use your senses to engage in a process of inquiry.

So let the artists lead us.  Let us recognize that they already do!

(This was supposed to be a post about all my upcoming events … but please click here for that info.  Hope you can make one or two events.)