Events, Updates, News and More
Hello Kabul! Hello mountains. Hello kindness. Hello community. Hello learning. Hello growing. Hello change. I feel so full of joy and gratitude to be here and do what I love. It’s been such a busy week and I can’t believe that already I am half way done! I am finding out that being the sole facilitator and workshop coordinator is pretty time consuming but I promise to send more updates.
Art imitates life, life imitates art … but what’s the deal with pepper spray at WalMart? It’s the theater of the absurd in overdrive. I sit here next to the pot bellied stove in my guest house, calm and distant. I don’t mind the distance from this facet of life. Though I do remember when I was here in late September, I had such longing to be part of the Occupy movement in NYC. Funny how things change.
I’ve been back in NY for two weeks now and am so pleased that I got to see the last of the fall colors. When I arrived, reds, yellows, browns and greens were still bright and shocking. Now, many of the leaves have fallen – and the colors faded. When I left New York in October Zucotti park had just been occupied and the movement, which seemed to appear from nowhere, bloomed and blazed. In the two months between, something important has begun.
There’s no way around it. I can’t hide, pretend it’s not happening, close my eyes. I have to have to face it -the project has come to an end. Well, my part of it has come to an end and now the young students are tasked with carrying on the work and moving it forward. I have learned a great deal by spending these 6 weeks in Kabul, listening to people, observing life, understanding daily struggles, seeing entrenched attitudes and thinking about all of this in light of how art and culture can be used to educate, build community, and inspire change.
This last week has been filled with performances for NGOs and community spaces throughout Kabul. We often have 2-3 per day which makes for hectic and fun times. So far we’ve performed at schools, orphanages, for the National Police force, a community center for widows and orphans, the Kabul women’s prison, and in the garden of a women’s rights organization.
Sometimes a banana is just a banana … and sometimes it’s more! For the young men’s theater group, a banana represents the multiple problems in Afghan society. Dealing with the seemingly insignificant task of where to throw the peel leads the main character on a journey through the maze of maze of problems on all levels of Afghan society.
I’m writing two separate blog posts, one about the young men’s production and process and one about the young women’s. This one is all about the women. Despite being located in the cosmopolitan capital city, it seems that this theater group is the first all women’s group in Kabul. Many of these young women, even though they have studied theater at university, have not performed on the stage for audiences – not even in university productions. Well, here’s their chance! They are talented, smart, passionate, and ready to shout from the rooftops.
Here’s what happened the other day … Every day, in the room we train in, I hear drums playing, horns blowing and people jamming. Yesterday I took it upon myself to investigate the source of this funkiness. So I walked the halls of the fine arts building at Kabul University. I was stopped on one staircase by some heavenly rabab playing. Coming from where, I didn’t know. It was magical and lovely to just stand there and listen.
I’m tired. Tired, tired, tired. I work 6 days a week with the actors, then spend many more hours at the apartment revising agendas, planning, And trying to connect with local and international NGOs who would be interested in supporting this fledgling theater company when we leave. We go to meetings in the mornings and then go to the university in the afternoons until evening working hard and pushing the students harder. The sky is dark when we leave and Kabul is getting chilly, “sard-e-st” … “it is cold” in Dari.
Being raised in a South/West Asian home, in NYC, I have the privilege to be able to see things from different cultural perspectives and to carry with me the knowledges of many people. (I use the plural to reflect that there is no one “knowledge”.) I am blessed to have an extended family of second mothers, sisters and brothers who have shared with me some of Puerto Rican culture, African American culture, LGBTQ culture, Jewish culture and so on. I am grateful to have that information and perspective as a part of my being.
The last four days at the Kabul Theater Festival has been heady, thrilling, hopeful, and heartful. I was overjoyed to meet most of the theater artists that I worked with last year. They were presenting their work at the festival (one of them won best scenery and costumes!) and they all looked radiant and full of life. Moreover, I met so many new, creative people working in MANY different provinces of Afghanistan and in different forms of theater.
With fall peeking around the corner I am determined to soak up the last bits of summer; the long, stretched out days, the sense that time has stopped inside this humid container of a city, the need to see old friends and hear their summer reflections and meditations. My summer meditation is on structure: the structure of my life as an artivist and how to structure arts and culture work for social change. In the still moments, the message I get is: “do the work and see”, but a wall of chatter soon builds up around it.
I’ve got great news: Women in Islam – a terrific organization of Muslim women dedicated to social justice – has decided to give me their Compass Award at the annual Dr. Betty Shabazz Awards Ceremony! They said the Compass Award is meant to recognize the work of forging forward in new directions, leading us in the right direction when we are not always familiar with the terrain.
Last night I had a dream that my head exploded. I felt cold chills, imagined nothingness and longed for all I wanted to see and do. But I soon realized that I was thinking all of these things and nothing had really changed. I got up and saw that not only was I still alive but no one noticed anything different about me. I could go about my day as if it were any other. Soon, my anxiety and fear gave way to a total release of old hang-ups and boring messages of self doubt. My mind was unleashed and I no longer needed to construct myself in relation to the confines of those old hurtful messages. I was thrilled to be alive!
What d’ya know … the world keeps changing. It’s May! May Day 2011 had me thinking about the immense contribution of working people. Our work creates wealth, our labor produces the foundation of our societies. I say “we” because all artists are workers. Our collective labor transforms the world we live in and enriches people’s lives on a daily basis.
They say March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb, but it’s been the other way around for me. At the beginning of March I was tentative, unsure if I was stepping in the right places. But by the end of the month, I realize I’m right where I need to be. I’ve been asked to speak a lot about the arts as a vehicle for personal and social transformation. During these talks I’ve noticed that people need reminding that the arts are the most natural, accessible, and powerful tool we have for liberation – even I need to be reminded!
“I give you my Yellow … Give me your Red! I give you my Yellow … Give me your Red!” Tonight, I was shouting this out loud as I jumped, back and forth, over a bonfire. It is Chahar Shanbe Suri – the Wednesday before Persian New Year – and jumping over the fire is an important part of the celebrations. You are speaking to the fire; having an exchange, and as you vocalize those words you remember that connection to Mother earth. We are on the earth and of the earth.
Spring is coming, and with it I am waking up and reaching out to you . I hope to see you at one of these events! I have 3 events in March. Two are discussions about art and art practices as important parts of social movement work, and the other is a workshop on Theatre of the Oppressed techniques.
