A leaf in the wind

The Afghan Youth Orchestra open the final gala of the Third Winter Academy, William Harvey, conductor and arranger.

Decades of war followed by the Taliban rule destroyed Afghanistan's musical culture. Even though music came back to Afghanistan in 2001, after the fall of the taliban, until 2009, there wasn't a single orchestra in Afghanistan that was capable of playing the country's national anthem. It was only then, the Ministry of Education set up the Afghan Institute of Music under the leadership of Dr. Ahmad Sarmast.

Concert at ANIM - Second winter Academy - December 2011

The main objective of the Afghan Institute of Music is to make music education accessible to the most vulnerable and underpriviledged kids of afghan society, the orphans and the street kids. The first 5 students of the institute were street children. Today the Institute has about 150 students, both, orphans and street children, of which, 35 are women.

Dr. Sarmast, in a documentary shared his dream to have composers capable of making new arrangements of western classical pieces with an orchestra using afghan instruments and a symphony orchestra capable of performing afghan pieces in new arrangements according to the classical traditions of Afghanistan.

His dream was realised sooner than he expected. The Winter Academy was launched in December 2010. The Annual Afghanistan Winter Academy is an intenstive eight-week musical journey designed to offer Afghan youth from age 10-30 a chance to improve their musical abilities, while offering the Kabul community a series of exciting concerts. The Third Annual Afghanistan Winter Music Academy is currently taking place.

William Harvey and Student - Second Winter Academy 2011

Second Winter Academy 2011

The Winter Academy students receive lessons in a wide range of music techniques. From American fiddling to folk music, to violin and piano, chamber music and even yoga classes. The students take private lessons and practice intensively through the eight week period. The concerts features guests performing along side faculty and students.

Tonight, at the winter gala  Ambassadors, Ministers, Diplomats, NGO workers and members of the international and afghan communities flocked at the elegant auditorium of the French Cultural Institute. The concert started and ended with the Afghan Youth Orchestra.  There was a chamber percussion ensemble, an indo-afghan traditional raga, featuring a sitar and sarod ensemble, a chamber orchestra and a violin, rubab and chamber orchestra. A wide rang of musical composers came together to produce beautiful harmonious arrangements of western and afghan classical pieces together thereby weaving Dr. Sarmast's dream into reality.

Third Winter Academy - January 2013

This dream has not only come to life, but grown wings and will be flying with a total of 45 musicians to America to perform at the Carnegie Hall in New York City and at the Kennedy Center in Washington DC in the next week.

Third Winter Academy - January 2013

Dr. Samarst in an interview with New York Times said, " I want to show the world that lives lost and materials wasted in Afghanistan has not gone in the wind".

As I sat in the audience listening to the music, I glanced around. There were so many ambassadors, ministers and high level dignatories in the room that it easily required extensive security detail to ensure the safety of these people. All were there just to see the results of their investment in these children's future. It was supposed to be an evening of relaxation, an evening of music, but there was an element of intensity with all the possible threat the situation posed with so many high profile people in one location.

Afghan Youth Orchestra - Third Winter Academy, January 2013

The Afghan Youth Orchestra mesmerized us the entire evening with a wide repertoire of music and performances. All the kids are either orphans or street children affected by the war. Without the knowledge of their painful circumstances, I wouldn't fathom how hard won are the feelings of pride and accomplishment.

Music is a non threatening medium that can be used to unlock paths to an injured or traumatised brain full of deep rooted memories. "Pitch, harmony, melody, rhythm and emotion, all components of music, engage different regions of the brain. Many of those same regions are important in speech, movement and social interaction. If a disease or trauma has disabled a brain region needed for such functions, music can sometimes get in through a back door and coax them out by another route", says Dr. Gottfried Schlaug, a Harvard University neurologist.

In afghanistan, I've witnessed a series of attacks/blasts in less than a 2 mile radius of my location. I know how dislodged my brain gets and how I am unable to completely focus for a few days after the attack. And I have been lucky enough not to be born in these circumstances. I can't imagine how much more grit, self determination and focus these children need not only to learn how to play a musical instrument, but to master it and perform for a large audience. These children found music, a powerful medium to express themselves, like a balm with curative powers to heal their trauma.

This weekend, the children (45 musicians in all) will travel to the United States of America to perform at the Kennedy Center in Washington DC (Feb 7) and at the Carnegie Hall in NYC (Feb 12). These children, once like leaves in the wind found a guide and purpose. Afghanistan history has witnessed many gusts of wind, very often short bursts of high speed.  Each sweep taking the leaves in different directions. Some leaves cling to life, soar high, catch the moon and dance with the stars.  For some children, this journey never ends, unclear, lost, traumatized, they get carried away by the wind into different directions, swept away into the oblivion...

I am a leaf in the wind 

my journey unclear

i glide with the gust

for he is my guide

my fate in his hands 

i worry not

I am a leaf in the wind

for when i fall my journey ends

the destination my reality

my mind now wonders

in my dreams an reality

is this my world or another - Allan Miguel

Football for Peace

The Afghan Premiere League Trophy

This weekend I had the opportunity to watch the final match of Afghanistan's first premiere league football live in Kabul's new football stadium. It took some cajoling and back and forth with my security to let me go. It seemed like all of Kabul's National Police were mobilized for this epic day as many high profile Afghan politicians like Abdullah Abdullah and representatives from the diplomatic corps were present at the event. 

Toofaan Harirod from Herat province and Simorgh Alborz from Mazar-e-Sharif Province competed in the final match of the season. Toofaan Harirod won beating Simorgh Alborz 2-1 in the tournament. 

First half of the match - Herat (Blue) Mazar-e-Sharif (Orange)

Entrance to the Stadium -Afghan National Police Cars lined up

The league came to fruition only this year. A total of 8 teams were created to compete in this inaugural league. The first season ran through September and October of 2012 and the Afghanistan Football Federation has confirmed that a second season will take place in 2013.

A reality television show called "Maidan-e-sabz" (Green Field) sourced the players, a concept that came together by the Afghanistan Football Federation and the Afghanistan-based Moby Group, which is the largest media group in the country and owns a number of TV channels and radio stations. Players were then voted by a jury and the television audience onto teams. 

I was very nervous as my car pulled into the Stadium. I had never seen so many Afghan National Police (ANP) in one place, so many guns, police cars and so many people bursting through the seams of the stadium.  There was a dust storm earlier in the morning followed by rain which had made the air clean and crisp. As I entered the stadium guided by several police escorts, I rapidly eased into the scene. The energy was very different around me, something I always hoped for, but never expected. Smiles on everyone's faces, babies, mothers, children, men, young men, old men, police. It was spectacular. The air of hostility I always encounter when I am out on the streets of kabul wasn't present. 

Shiny Happy People in the Stadium

Using sports as a tool for social cohesion and civil society strengthening could be the answer in this conflict torn nation as 65 percent of the population of Afghanistan is under 25 and this could potentially be a real opportunity to bring peace and stability to Afghanistan. 
The League  brought children, adults, afghan men, afghan women, expatriats, afghan government officials, diplomats and the afghan national police all together. I was suddenly sharing a space with all these different people that was not contaminated by the afghan history, by past hurts, past wars, past conflict, exploded bombs and guns used. It was a new space. A new language co-created by everyone in that stadium. A language of cohesion, team spirit, joy, celebration, sharing and love. It may have been a fleeting moment. But imagine what more fleeting moments of understanding and tolerance could do for reconciliation and peace Afghanistan. 

According to the Toltec legacies, 'Life is a fleeting moment. What an average man calls chance is in reality power. The only way to explain what power is, is to say that it is a fleeting moment of chance. 

This season of the Premiere League gave the afghan people power. I hope and pray that the people of afghanistan hold on to this moment very tightly...

Afghanistan's future...

The Oak among the Willows

Camouflage is a set of methods of concealment that allows otherwise visible animals, military vehicles, or other objects to remain unnoticed by blending with their environment or by resembling something else.  - Definition from Wikipedia.

Coming from parents with mixed backgrounds, I took features from both sides of the family. A universal face, medium complexioned, I am more comfortable being a child of the universe than from one particular place. Are you Iranian?  Moroccon? South American? Afghan? Middle Eastern? Turkish?, are some of the most common guesses of strangers I meet. I take pride that I am able to camouflage so very easy and fit into many cultures or countries without actually employing any methods of concealment. This pride was enhanced when I arrived in Afghanistan. I look Afghan, I wear the chador (headscarf) and boom! I fooled everyone... and most, even when I opened my mouth! 

Very soon, I started disliking that I looked Afghan. Afghan women are so beautiful, its the biggest compliment to be mistaken for them. But looking Afghan exposed me to how Afghan women are treated by the Afghan men. Everytime I fly out of Kabul airport, the afghan police at the airport order me to put my chador on screaming "you haven't even left the country and you are trying to behave like a foreigner". I flash my passport and they profusely apologize.  

A few months ago, I was invited to a party very close to the President's Palace. By virtue of location, its a heavily guarded area. I arrived in my car and the security at the gate would not let me in, insisting I was Afghan trying to cover up and this was a party for "Kharigis" (foreigners). I showed him my passport and he thought it was fake (I have 2 passports clipped together). The guard spoke to me in Dari, I answered back in English, insisting I wasn't Afghan. "Nice try madam, you speak good english, don't be ashamed to speak your language, dari" he mocked me. He broke into a laugh and told me he was not going to allow me inside no matter what as he had all the power to do so. He continued to laugh watching me wait helplessly at the gate, at which point I got upset with the mockery and screamed at him. My friends came to get me from inside and the security guy said "This girl is crazy, see her screaming, thats why I didn't let her in".   I was humiliated and felt my spirit crack. I wasn't sure if I was angry at his manner or shocked at how skillfully he manipulated the situation. When I went inside, my friend said, "don't worry Rima, this man is known to harrass all the Afghan women who come to work here every morning".  

I will never ever be able to understand an Afghan woman's pain nor the obstacles and impediments this society places in front of her from the time she enters this world. Its very simplistic to say that day I had a glimpse of how the men treat women. All I know is that I was not happy that I had a face that can camouflage, I was not happy to look Afghan, I lost my temper and I didn't like being disrespected.  

 The dictionary definition for resilience is "the ability to work with adversity in such a way that one comes through it unharmed or even better for the experience. Resilence means facing life's difficulties with courage and patience - refusing to give up. It is the quality of character that allows a person or group of people rebound from misfortune, hardships and trauma."   That day, I had a sudden recognition of the quality of the character of an Afghan woman, a realisation of how rooted resilience is, in the tenacity of her spirit.  

Someone once said, "The oak fought the wind and was broke, the willow bent when it must and survived." I dont want to be an oak among the goddess willows, therefore I do not wear my chador anymore. I admire the Afghan woman from a distance, nervous that I am may be challenged, yet again, to a trial of strength...

The Rippling Effect

The Rippling Effect - One Starfish at a Time

Education is a key microeconomic intervention that has underpinned the development of a nation. Particularly, Women’s education which is a crucial part of economic strategies to improve a society’s social and economic standard. In the 1980s, USAID was one of the pioneers in promoting Gender education and its blueprint called for Gender Parity. 

In the last decade or so the concepts of Gender Equality have become more sophisticated to include men as key players in the process. Achieving gender equality requires that the interests, needs, priorities and contributions of both, women and men are taken into consideration while fully recognizing the diversity of different groups of women and men.

Last month I got a golden opportunity to interact closely with women provincial councilors who were invited to Kabul for a conference. Each of Afghanistan’s 34 provinces hosts a Provincial Council, which is directly elected by the voters of that province. Provincial Councils advise and work closely with the provincial administration, the head of which, the Governor, is appointed by the President.   

Over the two days I spent with women council members, I talked to six councilors more personally. These government officials at a provincial level opened my eyes to a whole new Afghanistan. An Afghanistan where miracles happen, an afghanistan where people trust other people, an afghanistan where people are brave and courageous and have infinite depth of human spirit to fight against the tide. 

Babysitting his son while his wife participates in the conference

The person who struck me the most was a man who stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the sea of women officials filling the room. His wife was a Provincial councilor and he came along to support and encourage his wife by babysitting their 9 month old son so that she could participate actively in the sessions. 

The implications of Afghan customs on women’s lives is serious. They are not permitted to study, they are not allowed out of the house without a male relative and marriage is forced on young girls among many other challenges.

He knew very well his type was a rare breed and he attributed it to the environment, conditioning and education that he was subjected to during his formative years. His parents encouraged him to study. When he was a little older he went to Iran to pursue higher studies  where he was surrounded by educated men and women. After living there for four years, he returned to Afghanistan, joined a medical college and told his mother he would like a wife who is literate so that she could understand him.  

He knows he is different from his brothers as he gives his wife freedom, freedom of speech and freedom to work. It weakened their relationship with the extended family as they did not approve,  but he fought back and stood by his wife.  He encouraged his brothers and his brother-in-law to be more free with their wives. His brother-in-law listened and now his wife is in nursing college. 

Two of his brothers are not educated, one is a carpenter and the other a farmer. They wanted to stop their daughters from studying after 6th grade, but he stopped them and said he would pay their school fees, buy their uniforms and text books but they should study, so the brothers agreed. “I even stopped them from sending their sons to Iran to work and now I am supporting their studies too” he told me.

One man’s education resulted in a social evolution of his nuclear and extended family.  Supporting his wife to continue studying after marriage built her confidence, self-esteem and belief in herself that led her to win the provincial council elections in her province.

I am my wife’s husband and body guard. Even though I am liberal with my wife, the society has to give her the same liberty.  The community at large has to change.  Until then I have to protect my wife from external and social pressures. It is about shifting your mindset, being confident, standing up for what you believe and not being threatened by others but, at the same time, being respectful of traditions and not defying them.  We have a long way to go, he said, but if I could be different thereby creating a rippling effect around my circle of influence, it can happen to others too. I hope I see that in my life time. 

After a decade of international presence in Afghanistan, one is constantly grappling with impact evaluations and data to prove the effect we’ve had on the Afghan people. There are many success stories but the overall picture is grim. However, these refreshing moments of progress is what motivates development workers in the field and what many of us thrive on. Here is a great example of how one man's education changed his outlook which in turn shifted the social landscape of his immediate surroundings.  

In December 1999, I was in Capetown, South Africa for a Peace Conference where his holiness, the Dalai Lama and Nelson Mandela made keynote speeches. The Dalai Lama's closing remarks have stayed with me till this day. “The whole world wants to save Tibet, don’t worry about saving Tibet, don’t get caught up in trying to save the world or trying to affect what is not in our direct control. You will grow old and the world may not be saved, dream big but instead change yourself and affect people directly in your realm of influence and soon it will have a rippling effect."

The Starfish Story

I will leave you with a famous parable that comes to mind; A man was walking along the beach one morning. During the night the tide had stranded thousands of starfish on the beach. As the waves came crashing in he noticed a little girl in the distance. She was picking up  the helpless starfish one at time and putting them back into the ocean. Curious, he approached her, and watched several times as she repeatedly made the effort to accomplish the seemingly impossible task of saving them. Finally, he  asked  "little girl you cannot possibly save them all so why waste your time, you aren't going to make a difference?".  Without hesitation she picked up another starfish, held it up to the man, and said "I will make a difference to this one". As he thought for a moment the little girl smiled, ran to the ocean and placed the starfish in the water. The man then reached down and picked up two starfish, took them to the safety of the water and continued on his walk.

TANGO-The journey to find my balance

My favorite traveling buddy and dear dear friend, Lucy and I decided to go to Buenos Aires for a week over the New year break and study the subtle art of Tango from professional teachers in the tango capital of the world.

Little did I realise that our tango journey was going to be profoundly introspective, more internal than physical; a journey about recognizing our inner core, our balance and our center of gravity. Basics of any dance form. 

What makes tango stand apart from other 'couple' dances is the magical "embrace"; soft and sliding (and not firm and rigid like the waltz) to accommodate the improvisational aspect of Tango.

There is a cliché that Tango was born in the brothels of Buenos Aires. However, a more likely explanation is that the brothels were where people of the upper and middle classes first encountered the dance. Members of Argentina's literary classes - the people who are most likely to leave written evidence - did not mix socially with members of the lower, immigrant classes except in brothels.

The traditional way to learn the dance was that the men would go to "practicas" and dance with other men to learn the woman's part; ie; how to be led. After about nine months they would be ready to learn how to lead. The men would practice in the Practica and go to meet the women at the Milonga. 

The coup in 1955 that ousted Peron had a deep impact on Tango. It was banned by the new Military government and the dance went underground. It was during this phase that someone realised one could make money from creating a show of the Tango dance and thats when Tango became really popular in the international arena. (Apart from the 1913 period when Tango was exported to Paris).

In 1983, the fall of the Military Junta brought a renaissance in Tango in Argentina.

My mum, walter and I in New York City - Summer of 2008

I was first introduced to Tango by my friend, Walter Perez in New York City in 2005. Ironic to say the least, I was not into the dance then. I would go to Walter's classes more as an excuse to catch up with Walter as we would invariably make dinner plans after class.  I re-connected with the dance form in Kabul 6 months ago, when my friend Alan started taking a class for a few expats. I've never missed a single class of Tango. 

Spending eight days in Buenos Aires, reading the history of Tango, hearing anecdotal stories from my teachers (Maria Blanco and Walter Perez) created a deeper appreciation and respect for this art and a better understanding of myself.

The class has become a haven for me in Kabul. That one day in the week when I am transported into another world; into an ambiance that creates positivity, in a dance where I am leaning to be more comfortable with the sound of silence in the "break" between steps that strings each pause together. It makes me forget for 2 hours of the duration of the class, if not more, that the country I live in is full of elements that can do so much (if you only allowed it) to de-stabilize your equilibrium... literally and metaphorically.

I believe, much of the value of the goal is in the journey; so much so, that, I had to come all the way to Kabul to discover the value of tango, be motivated enough to fly to Buenos Aires and find myself learning from Walter who was the person who introduced me to the dance five years ago. I had come full circle.

Sir George Bernard Shaw once said " I don't believe in circumstances. The people who get on in this world are the people who get up and look for the circumstances they want, and if they can't find them, make them." 

All of us in Kabul chose to come to Afghanistan. Instead of complaining constantly about the situation surrounding us, we have all, in our unique little ways created the circumstances we want to keep our sanity and find our balance. I found tango!

Road to nowhere...

The Darulaman Palace, a European style Palace built by Amanullah Khan in the 1920s is located a mile away from my house. It has been heavily damaged throughout the century. In the 1960s it was heavily gutted by fire, then housed the Kabul Museum (now across the road), followed by the Defense Ministry and was finally reduced to its dilapidated state by heavy shelling of competing Mujahideen factions during the civil war. 

Last weekend, my friends and I made a visit to the Palace, I was under the impression, it would be deserted, due to its pathetic state, however, I was wrong. Not only did the Palace retain its imposing grandeur despite the rubble strewn floors, but it was hustling and bustling with Kuchis who made it their home. 


Kuchis are nomads. For more than 3000 years, the kuchis were pre-eminent transporters and traders and served as a mobile bridge between Afghanistan and south asia. They are self- sufficient people. Their prized possessions include their family, their goats, sheep, camels, donkeys and tents. No baggage, few attachments, free spirits traveling light. I had found some kindred souls!

The Kuchis staying in the Darulaman Palace migrated from Pakistan about three months ago. UNICEF has pitched tents in the Palace courtyard and runs a school for the displaced kuchi children in the day. At first, they were very territorial and refused to let us "curious" tourists in their space. We got talking to them in Dari and Urdu and they gradually let their guard down and offered to have the women come into the palace. So of we went (Sarah-jean, Sara and I) Lucky girls!

I asked one of them if they were happy or sad to be living in a palace. It was ironic to say the least. He said ' We're not materialistc, we don't care about things, we're nomadic people. We migrate from one place to another. Here, we are like birds in a cage.

They were very amused with our cameras and asked us to take photographs of them. We promised to print photos and bring back hard copies in a couple days or so.

Fredrik Barth, a Norwegian anthropologist said once, The wealthiest and the poorest kuchi  (when pushed to extremes of the spectrum ) will tend to settle down and give up his nomadic migratory cycle.  
 “A pastoral family needs a minimum herd size in order to survive. A wealthy nomad, might experience diminishing returns as his herd size increases and may decide to diversify into investing in land and/or into trade. The poorest lose their herds in times of crisis, going into debt and then selling-off animals to pay off the debt.

Waiting in line for drinking water

Years of war and displacement pushed these Kuchis to settle in one place, not out of free will. Being "nomadic" is being stable for Kuchis. 


In contrast, I have always had the luxury of free will. Is it a choice or fate or destiny ? I am not sure. Maybe a mix of everything.


Moving to Afghanistan presented an extreme situation for me on my life continuum that grounded me from within resulting in a deep appreciation for stability. My spirit was never curtailed, always nurtured by my parents, enabling it to experience so much. Today, I realize its value and understand that stability doesn’t have to be at the cost of clipping ones wings.  

Even though my free spirit identified with theirs, I walked away steady... with clarity and comfort on my path of life – however, the kuchis were left standing there trapped in their palace, like birds in a cage; no hope, a few promised photographs and lost on a road to nowhere…





The Lion of Panjshir

Ahmad Shah Massoud , born in the Panjshir valley, also known as the Lion of Panjshir is considered to have been one of the greatest military strategists and charismatic leaders of the second half of the 20th Century. He was known as a natural leader of men, clear sighted and a visionary.

The Panjshir fields

The Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan in 1979 to support the collapsing communist regime which gave birth to a group of freedom fighters who came to be known as the mujahideen. When the Russians left Afghanistan, fighting between factional groups led to civil war.  The Taliban, sponsored and financed by Pakistan, came with the promise of peace and control which soon appeared to be untrue. Massoud and other mujahideen formed an alliance and swore to free their land from this invading force.
Massoud's appeal for help from the west fell on deaf ears. He overestimated his strength and marched on Kabul only to be forced into the northeast corner of Afghanistan maintaining 5%-10% control of the country.

Drive up to Panjshir

In August, I made a road trip to the great Panjshir Valley. The terrain is similar to Kashmir and Ladakh. Many moments during our drive I had to remind myself that it was Afghanistan and not India. The charging river that turns into a torrent in the summer along with the irrigated wheat and maize fields and walnut and mulberry groves make for a very picturesque landscape.

Drive up to Panjshir

The Panjshir Valley

The Tajiks are very proud people and hold high regard for Massoud. It is one of the most safe provinces in the country and is often see as a model province. Massoud united the Tajiks, earned trust from his people by not suppressing them and not forcing them to adopt a lifestyle unlike the government in power. Freedom to his people to express, tolerance and moderation kept his people loyal to him and safe from the Taliban.  Massoud, however, was no saint, he was a warlord, killed many civilians, his reputation undoubtedly is controversial.











Massoud was assassinated on September 9 2001, two days before 9/11. Rumour has it that he was killed by Al-qaeda as he would have been the most potential ally of the international forces to fight the Taliban.

Massoud's Tomb in the distance

It was hard to leave Panjshir and return to Kabul that evening. I was in heaven in the middle of war-torn Afghanistan. I will never know Massoud and I am no authority to decide or claim whether he is a hero or not. Afghanistan is a complex country and there can't be a simple hero. We all need a hero to believe in and Massoud became that belief for his people.  If you live your beliefs you can turn the world around. Massoud could not turn his country around, but he protected the Panjshir valley and his Tajik people.

Eulogy for Ahmad Shah Massoud "Bitter Fruit Falling" by Khalilullah Khalili

 I am the bitter fruit falling upon the earth.
 Thus in the clutches of time I remain.
 O spring of liberty! Your grace, what else it could be
 But to render this bitter fruit sweet?
 The greatest wealth of this world is the company of friends,
 The agony of death:
 Separation from them,
 But since they are all together, the friends,
 Resting deep in the heart of the dust,
 What difference does it make
 Whether alive or dead.
 Out of pain and sorrow destiny has molded me.
 What, Alas, has been my joy from the cup of life?
 Like a candle burning in the blowing wind,
 I tremble, I burn, ... I die.

(translated from the original Dari) 

Massoud's Panjshir