Coming to Afghanistan has probably been the biggest transition I've ever experienced. This isn't because Afghanistan itself is so mind-blowingly different to anywhere else I've been (although life here is certainly unique). In many ways, it is very much like Cairo, Tashkent, Delhi or Kathmandu. It's instead because I was previously based in Tokyo for seven years.
I remember going to Tokyo in 2003 after living in a Himalayan village in Nepal and feeling pretty dazed and appalled by the crowded trains, lack of greenery and coldness of the immense concrete-ness. But that doesn't compare to now - there is something about going somewhere after Japan, which makes that change all the more severe. Japan sucks you in and makes you comfortable. Very, very comfortable. You begin to think it's normal to walk around with 500 dollars in cash. Tokyo makes you think it is right that your train driver apologises for being 30 seconds late into the station. But it's not normal; Japan is abnormally safe, clean, efficient and, well, comfortable.
Kabul and Tokyo may both be in Asia but I don't think you could get a bigger contrast than these two cities. In almost every way. The culture, religions, diet (fish/meat), dress (both styles and amount of), topography and climate (green, humid, island vs. brown, dry, inland) are just a few examples of the dichotomy. I can now understand why the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs classifies Afghanistan as the Middle East and not Asia.
The top three contrasts, though, are the the security/safety, the level of development and the amount of choice.
Japan is without a doubt the safest country I've been fortunate enough to live in, where people (many of their military included) have little or no sense of danger. Japanese ladies go into a cafe and nonchalantly leave their Louis Vuitton handbags on their chosen chairs, to reserve them before going off to the counter to order. Afghanistan, on the other hand, is definitely the most dangerous, with everything affected by the security situation and danger being ever-present; always there in one's mind. Interestingly, one doesn't really think about crime so much here, because instead the threat to life is (unsurprisingly) so much more the key concern. In Lagos, where my family lived from 1993-97, there was no walking on the streets and we had massive razor-wired walls surrounding our guarded and alarm-filled home. But that was because of the threat of robbery. Here in Kabul, the reason for not walking on the street or for having guards is because you may be killed. Japan is surely a utopia for a policeman and soldier but Afghanistan must be the worst place to embark on such a career.
The development aspect is so incomparable that I don't know where to start. Tokyo trains run every 3 minutes, to the second; in Afghanistan I'm not aware if there are trains. In Tokyo I paid for everything by swiping my 'Pasmo' card on screens, whether in the station, the grocery store or the bus - my life was a constant card-swiping exercise. Here in Kabul I have difficulty spending money, as I have only been to about three shops in a month. I live in one of the top central neighbourhoods of Kabul but the road outside is completely unpaved and potholed. I feel I have moved from 2050 to 1850 (except the mobile phones of course!).
In terms of choice, the differences are again immense. In Tokyo, when you want a cup of coffee you have about five options at any one time or place (not to mention the headache of choosing which out of the variety of coffees you want, once inside). In Kabul I pre-select one cafe (out of about three I know), phone the office for a car (which could turn up in anything between 10 to 45 minutes), get driven to the place and then probably find out there is no milk for that treasured cafe latte. Feeling peckish at 3 am in Shibuya? A kombini (convenience store) will be within 50 metres, and true to its name, it will sell you anything you could possibly wish to consume - hot or cold, wrapped in excessive layers of plastic and paper. Here my room is well stocked with biscuits or fruit because I know that a) there is no shop around b) even if there was, it would not be open and c) even if it was open, I would not even dream of walking there!
Having lived in various countries since I was 0 and having spent a childhood constantly switching between schools and homes, I've always thought I could adapt to anything, anywhere, in an instant. Tokyo to Kabul, though, took a good few weeks before I could finally sit back and relax.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
A Night at the Theatre
On 7 July, I went to the Foundation for Culture and Civil Society (FCCS) to watch a ‘Civic Education through Mobile Theatre’ performance that the Elections Team of The Asia Foundation has been collaborating on with FCCS.
Firstly, I was impressed by the FCCS’ physical environment. Although the entrance felt fairly dilapidated and made me wonder where I had arrived, I then emerged into a beautiful garden full of fruit trees and backed by a characteristic old mansion and its surrounding outbuildings. It was a world away from the dusty brown streets of Kabul and simply sitting there in greenery was a treat. I was warmly welcomed by Mr. Timor Hakimyar (Executive Director, FCCS) and his staff. Full of energy, he was an engaging person to chat with.
The musicians
As we sat in the garden sipping green tea, a trio of musicians started playing some traditional music on the rubab, tabla and flute (Afghan name unknown). Apparently, the rubab player, Mr. Hussain (sitting in the middle of the below photo), is one of the most famous in Afghanistan. I am no expert, but it was truly beautiful music.
After some time the theatre group, who had been sitting in the garden patiently, signaled it was time to start. They had set up a stage with floodlights, which gave it quite a professional feel. The lights showed up shocking clouds of dust swirling in the air – to think we breathe that in every day!
The final scene
Thankfully, my colleague Mr. Asheq interpreted the actors’ words so we could understand what was happening. Although simple (for example there were no stage props) I found the acting was of a high quality. They were all clearly experienced. I was surprised and impressed that there was also an actress among the cast. The different scenes were all entertaining with their respective stories, and the way they were later interwoven to create powerful messages about corruption, greed, ambition, education, the underprivileged and violence was skilful. The key underlying message, of course, was the importance of democracy and transparency/accountability in elections. At times funny and at times serious, the play left a deep impression.
After the play finished, we had a series of photos with the actors on stage, and were able to ask questions about the play, their roles and the logistics of organizing such mobile theatres. We heard some incredible stories about how actors had to hide in vehicles or use other innovative methods to travel through certain regions in order to perform. As ever in Afghanistan, security considerations are a fundamental part of the planning process.
Photo with the cast
Although I have not seen the effect first-hand that such mobile theaters have in rural areas of Afghanistan, the aims of this project are extremely commendable. By taking the messages to the rural populations and providing them, not through documents or speeches, but through theater which all members of the population can appreciate (literate or not) I’m convinced the effects must linger long after the mobile theater has moved on.
It crossed my mind that working on such ‘immediate impact’ projects contrasts heavily with other types of peace and development initiatives (e.g. international conferences), whose effects are not seen for long periods of time. Having personally come to Kabul from working in an Embassy, where our work on bilateral relations rarely produced ‘fruits’ in the short-term, I thought about how worthwhile it is to also work on ‘on-the-ground’ projects such as this TAF/FCCS initiative.
We were then invited to have dinner, which was a veritable feast. They evidently had prepared for an army of people, and we tucked into giant chunks of stewed beef, roast chicken, Kabuli pulao, spinach, naan bread and succulent peaches. This was all accompanied by another performance by the same musicians who had patiently waited until the play was over to resume.
The entertainment had not yet finished, though. The actors, clearly wishing to stay in the limelight and with much energy in reserve, started dancing. Ranging from traditional Pashtun styles, which were dramatic (almost aggressive) and performed in a circle, to a hilarious Indian Bollywood-style performance by the ‘Commander’ in the play, this was perhaps the most entertaining part of the evening.
Energetic dancing
Overall, it was the most interesting evening I have spent since arriving in Afghanistan a month ago. What was originally a theater performance turned out to be so much more, with the beautiful gardens, wonderful music, delicious dinner and impressive dance all combining to create a magical experience. I felt honored to be invited and certainly hope to return there again.
Firstly, I was impressed by the FCCS’ physical environment. Although the entrance felt fairly dilapidated and made me wonder where I had arrived, I then emerged into a beautiful garden full of fruit trees and backed by a characteristic old mansion and its surrounding outbuildings. It was a world away from the dusty brown streets of Kabul and simply sitting there in greenery was a treat. I was warmly welcomed by Mr. Timor Hakimyar (Executive Director, FCCS) and his staff. Full of energy, he was an engaging person to chat with.
The musicians
As we sat in the garden sipping green tea, a trio of musicians started playing some traditional music on the rubab, tabla and flute (Afghan name unknown). Apparently, the rubab player, Mr. Hussain (sitting in the middle of the below photo), is one of the most famous in Afghanistan. I am no expert, but it was truly beautiful music. After some time the theatre group, who had been sitting in the garden patiently, signaled it was time to start. They had set up a stage with floodlights, which gave it quite a professional feel. The lights showed up shocking clouds of dust swirling in the air – to think we breathe that in every day!
Thankfully, my colleague Mr. Asheq interpreted the actors’ words so we could understand what was happening. Although simple (for example there were no stage props) I found the acting was of a high quality. They were all clearly experienced. I was surprised and impressed that there was also an actress among the cast. The different scenes were all entertaining with their respective stories, and the way they were later interwoven to create powerful messages about corruption, greed, ambition, education, the underprivileged and violence was skilful. The key underlying message, of course, was the importance of democracy and transparency/accountability in elections. At times funny and at times serious, the play left a deep impression. After the play finished, we had a series of photos with the actors on stage, and were able to ask questions about the play, their roles and the logistics of organizing such mobile theatres. We heard some incredible stories about how actors had to hide in vehicles or use other innovative methods to travel through certain regions in order to perform. As ever in Afghanistan, security considerations are a fundamental part of the planning process.
Photo with the cast
It crossed my mind that working on such ‘immediate impact’ projects contrasts heavily with other types of peace and development initiatives (e.g. international conferences), whose effects are not seen for long periods of time. Having personally come to Kabul from working in an Embassy, where our work on bilateral relations rarely produced ‘fruits’ in the short-term, I thought about how worthwhile it is to also work on ‘on-the-ground’ projects such as this TAF/FCCS initiative.
We were then invited to have dinner, which was a veritable feast. They evidently had prepared for an army of people, and we tucked into giant chunks of stewed beef, roast chicken, Kabuli pulao, spinach, naan bread and succulent peaches. This was all accompanied by another performance by the same musicians who had patiently waited until the play was over to resume.
The entertainment had not yet finished, though. The actors, clearly wishing to stay in the limelight and with much energy in reserve, started dancing. Ranging from traditional Pashtun styles, which were dramatic (almost aggressive) and performed in a circle, to a hilarious Indian Bollywood-style performance by the ‘Commander’ in the play, this was perhaps the most entertaining part of the evening.
Energetic dancing
Thursday, July 08, 2010
"You going Kabul? Dangerous!"
These words from my fellow passenger on the Safi Airlines flight from Dubai to Kabul (accompanied by his inexplicable laughter) were not really what I needed to hear - again. The initial reaction from anyone who hears you are going to Afghanistan - voluntarily, what's more - is normally horror (or at best, incomprehension). The reason is of course the war and the implied danger of the place. This certainly prevented me from preparing and leaving for Kabul with an objective mindset; you can't help but be influenced by the worries and concerns of those around you.
And so it sets the tone for the first few weeks here. Security comes first. Safety is paramount. It's one of the most popular conversation topics when expats meet. It's what you first think when deciding to go out ("is that restaurant on the safety-cleared list?" "will the office let me go to that concert tomorrow?").
It takes up so much thought initially that thinking about Afghanistan - the place - is an afterthought. I've never experienced this before, when you have arrived somewhere new, but it takes so long to feel it. Even now, it seems like I am looking at Afghan life through a window, but am not really IN it (actually this is often the case, as we go everywhere by 4WD cars; no walking around). Normally I would arrive somewhere and stroll around the bazaar, have a drink in a local shop and try to strike up a conversation with some local people. Here, that just doesn't happen, or rather, that is not allowed to happen. I have been to a mere handful of shops over several weeks, and most of them are specifically for foreigners.
It's important not to get overly paranoid, though, and indeed after a while I think you get a more balanced perspective. Yes - it's dangerous and I should be careful, but no - not every SUV near the guesthouse is going to explode.
I hadn't intended to start this blog off on such a sombre note - blame the Safi passenger! But perhaps touching on the whole security thing first is appropriate, as that's what we expats in Kabul do all the time, especially in the first few weeks!
And so it sets the tone for the first few weeks here. Security comes first. Safety is paramount. It's one of the most popular conversation topics when expats meet. It's what you first think when deciding to go out ("is that restaurant on the safety-cleared list?" "will the office let me go to that concert tomorrow?").
It takes up so much thought initially that thinking about Afghanistan - the place - is an afterthought. I've never experienced this before, when you have arrived somewhere new, but it takes so long to feel it. Even now, it seems like I am looking at Afghan life through a window, but am not really IN it (actually this is often the case, as we go everywhere by 4WD cars; no walking around). Normally I would arrive somewhere and stroll around the bazaar, have a drink in a local shop and try to strike up a conversation with some local people. Here, that just doesn't happen, or rather, that is not allowed to happen. I have been to a mere handful of shops over several weeks, and most of them are specifically for foreigners.
It's important not to get overly paranoid, though, and indeed after a while I think you get a more balanced perspective. Yes - it's dangerous and I should be careful, but no - not every SUV near the guesthouse is going to explode.
I hadn't intended to start this blog off on such a sombre note - blame the Safi passenger! But perhaps touching on the whole security thing first is appropriate, as that's what we expats in Kabul do all the time, especially in the first few weeks!
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