Afghanistan

A Thousand Rooms of Dream and Fear

alicia — Mon, 07 Feb 2011 08:00:00 +0000

By Yama Yari, Sarah Maguire, Atiq Rahimi

Set in Kabul in 1979, A Thousand Rooms of Dream and Fear is a surreal and beautiful account of the experiences of a young man who wakes up in the home of a widow following an altercation with checkpoint guards. Almost poetic in its descriptions, one sees the story develop through the cloudy and confused eyes of Farhad. Alternating between his lucid dreams and what actually is occurring around him, the reader is tossed into his confusion, in understanding how he ended up in the home of a widow, and why her son addresses him as ‘father’.

The structure that Rahimi uses is quite unique as it flows much like a poem, rather than a chronological story, but I felt that this technique was successful because it illustrated how confusing and simple it was for the protagonist to end up in his position, being protected by the widow, despite the danger that it would cause her.

While initially I was uneasy about the unstructured format of the novel, I eventually grew to appreciate it. However, by the time the plot began to gain momentum, the novel was finished, and I wished it were longer. The disconnected and dream-like voice of the author is effective in showing the emotions and confusion of being in the midst of political and religious unrest. We see the protagonist’s journey in trying to understand what is actually occurring around him. The lack of structure demonstrates the lack of stability that Farhad has, even as he gains consciousness.

The female characters in the novel are quite significant, as they are the ones that protect and save Farhad. The widow, in particular, is a character that I wish were developed more, and one of the main reasons why I wished that the novel were longer. She is not a romantic object for Farhad, even though he has a fleeting attraction to her. Instead, she acts as a maternal figure to him when he is recovering from his attack. In learning about her past, we learn more about the volatile atmosphere in Kabul, and eventually, how simple it was to have your life completely altered.

We eventually learn that Farhad was a university student, who had his life endangered because of an evening that involved too much drinking. Illustrating the relationship between the political and the personal, Rahimi shows how even the life of an uninvolved young man could be unravelled by the political unrest of the time. I wondered how much of Farhad’s voice reflected the experiences of Rahimi. The author exited Afghanistan following the Soviet invasion in 1979, the same year in which the novel is set. Rahimi eventually settled in France, where he is a filmmaker and writer.

I thoroughly enjoyed this novel, and I thought it was one of the strongest novels I have read this year. It is an easy, beautiful, and somewhat heartbreaking read.

Written by: Sara Yasin, February 7th 2011

Afghan Star

admin — Sun, 30 May 2010 16:01:00 +0000

Directed by Havana Marking

Zeitgeist Films

One of my favorite bands, The Avett Brothers, have a lyric in one of their songs claiming, “May you never be embarrassed to sing.” Since viewing Havana Marking’s documentary, Afghan Star, this lyric has been on repeat in my brain, reminding me, as Afghan Star aptly illustrates, if embarrassment is all that we have to risk, then we are risking very little. In her feature length directorial debut, Marking journeys into recently independent Afghanistan to explore the newly created television program Afghan Star. Following four contestants as they compete for the $5,000 prize, Marking exposes the inspiring and passionate citizens of a country shrouded by war, violence, and tyranny.

The film opens with a close-up of two little boys. One, whose face and eyes appear to have been violently damaged, sings sweetly into the camera and when he finishes the other states simply “If there was no singing the world would be silent.” From this point on Afghan Star weaves a complicated narrative that instigates dialogue about the power of having a voice, and the ideologies that determine what voices are heard and by who.

In 1996, the Taliban rule in Afghanistan created a ban on music, dancing, and singing. The ban was lifted in 2004, but as history has taught us all too well, a change in politics doesn’t always result in changing people. Most of those interviewed in the film, from the show’s producers to townspeople, equate singing with freedom; however, the concept of freedom is abstract and intangible. It is defined within the boundaries of Afghan politics and Islamic religion, leaving little room for the inclusion of Western liberties and autonomous behavior.

This is most evident in the subtle, yet disturbing, fulfillment of traditional gender roles. Both of the male contestants whom Marking chooses to focus on are met with great hope and respect by their communities. But when interviewing the families and supporters of the female contestants the responses are overwhelmingly concerned and fearful, or rife with ulterior motives. As the male contestants campaign openly in public and receive adoration from fans, the women are hidden by their burqas, unable to be recognized.

The contradiction is striking, yet the women are complicit and seemingly unaware of their alienation. However, the most drastic display of sexism occurs when Setara, one of the two female finalists and by far the most dynamic of all the contestants, is eliminated. While performing her final song, Setara “dances” on stage while also allowing her head scarf to fall revealing her hair. The result is scorn from her fellow competitors, eviction from her apartment and death threats so fierce and overwhelming, she fears returning to her hometown.

For those of us in the West, Afghan Star presents a thoughtful exploration of the life we so often take for granted: freedom of speech, the privilege of choice, and the unnecessary luxury of television and its star-making programs. But, above all, this film is a riveting reminder of the power, freedom and endless possibilities we hold in our voice and that no matter how we may use it, we must never be embarrassed to sing.

Written by: Alicia Sowisdral, May 30th 2010

Lapis Birds with Malachite Earrings

admin — Thu, 17 Sep 2009 08:51:00 +0000

By Black Rabbit

I have to admit, I have a weakness for unconventional, handmade jewelry, so I was quite eager to own something from Black Rabbit Handmade Jewelry. The business is run by a mother-daughter team based in Vermont who have a passion for creating jewelry inspired by nature. The company was named for their pet—you guessed it—an adorable black rabbit, photos of whom you can find on their blog.

A quick browse through the Black Rabbit online catalog of earrings, bracelets, and necklaces reveals incredibly striking colors and designs. The designers incorporate precious metals with beads and pendants made of semiprecious stones, glass, crystal, or natural materials—such as bone, horn, shell, mother of pearl, nut, seed, and wood—to create pieces you are not going to find in traditional jewelry stores.

I was certainly not disappointed with my beautiful lapis birds when they arrived. According to the Black Rabbit ladies, the birds were hand-carved in Afghanistan. They added green malachite beads and sterling silver Bali rondelles. The earrings are a colorful yet understated complement to many outfits, and I feel elegant and funky at the same time whenever I put them on. At times, I even enjoy tossing my head from side to side to watch the birds fly!

In addition to offering beautiful trinkets at fair prices, Black Rabbit Handmade Jewelry offers free shipping within the United States, no matter how much or how little you buy. Pick up something handmade for a friend or loved one, or just spoil yourself a little. It is fabulous to support small, women-led businesses whenever you can. It just feels good, doesn't it? And honestly, who can say no to that beautiful black bunny?

Written by: April D. Boland, September 17th 2009

The Green Zone: The Environmental Costs of Militarism

admin — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 23:45:00 +0000

By Barry Sanders

AK Press

The Green Zone takes two very big issues of the moment—global warming and the wars in the Middle East—and seeks to illustrate the correlations between the two. Everyone knows something about the horribleness of both topics individually, but most people, including myself, never really put the two together, so I was excited to learn what this book had to offer.

Right off the bat, one of the weaknesses is that the book spends an awful lot of time on what seems to be exposition: there is a preface, a foreword, and finally, an introduction—all of which spell out the gist of the book—before we get to the actual content. The Green Zone presents heavy questions that (according to Sanders) even the Pentagon has no answers for, such as how many military bases America has all over the world, how many Iraqi and Afghani civilians lost their lives since America’s occupation, and how many people will continue to suffer long after America pulls out of the two countries because of the various ways their environment has been polluted since the first Gulf War.

As compelling Sander's case is, he unfortunately goes off on tangents throughout the book, which detract from the point he is attempting to make. One minute he’ll be discussing the Gulf War, then the modern day ice caps, and then off to some other topic with little to no transition between them all. This gets confusing, especially when so many numbers and new terms are introduced.

The middle of the book is the most coherent, and seems to be where Sanders has the most passion in discussing the different ways the American military pollutes and endangers Iraq, Afghanistan, and even its own people. This was a hard book to read, in terms of both subject matter and delivery; however I still consider it a must read.

Written by: Jen Klee, September 14th 2009

New York Times 'Half The Sky' Issue

admin — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 09:42:00 +0000

Edited by Nicholas Kristof

New York Times

In July, I wrote a post about Nicholas D. Kristof's announcing a "special issue" of the New York Times Sunday Magazine that would cover women in the developing world. Well, that issue is now available online, and will be arriving to the doorsteps of NYT subscribers in a few days. While this issue would have felt more authentic had the Times solicited pieces written by women from the Majority World, there is still much to be gleaned from this weekend's glossy.

As I anticipated it would be, the artwork is fantastic. In "A Powerful Truth," a five-minute audio slideshow, Kristof briefly tells the stories of six women--Saima Muhammad, Goretti Nyabenda, Claudine Mukakarisa, Edna Adan, and Abbas Be--while Katy Grannan's photos supplement the words by geographically gliding one homeland to the next: Pakistan, Burundi, Rwanda, Somaliland, and India. Saima's and Abbas' stories are further detailed in "The Women’s Crusade," which explores the myriad challenges women face around the globe; examines the positive role microfinance, foreign aid, US policy, and NGOs play on bettering women's individual conditions; and positions women's collective empowerment squarely at the center of solving global ills--including human rights violations, poverty, war, heath crises, and modern day slavery.

Another feature piece is "A New Gender Agenda," in which Mark Landler interviews Hillary Clinton on which foreign policy issues will be prioritized in the Obama administration. While some of the questions Landler asks are bold, and he should be applauded for having asked them, Clinton consistently sidesteps, leaving much to be desired. "A School Bus for Shamsia"is a feel-good piece with many moments that don't feel so great. At its core, it's about the progress of girls' education in Afghanistan, and one journalist's accidental transformation into an activist. Despite acid attacks and other forms of intimidation, the girls who attend Mirwais Mena School in Kandahar are determined to complete their studies--even if it results in their death.

On the topic of girls' death, "The Daughter Deficit" outlines the cultural factors behind daughter deaths and sex-selective abortions in India and China--an ironical twist to how increasing development can backfire if not coupled with an increase in women's status. Some of you may remember Ellen Johnson Sirleaf from her appearance on The Daily Show a few months ago. In "Madame President", Deborah Solomon speaks to the only female head of state in Africa in what, ultimately and unfortunately, is a lackluster interview.

"The Feminist Hawks" is one of the more interesting articles here, as it deconstructs the use of feminist rhetoric ("women's empowerment") as it is applied by conservative "hawks" (or those who gun for military intervention), particularly with respect to the post-9/11 paternalistic focus on Muslim women's rights (a la "to hijab or not hijab"). Writer Virginia Heffernan further complicates this discussion by considering the effect the Internet has on disseminating and manipulating the message.

In addition to the content, this issue has two "Half the Sky" contests for artists and activists: 1) photographers can submit pictures that exemplify the theme of women and girls' empowerment and 2) those with personal stories regarding work done to empower women and girls (in the US and abroad) can post a comment on the contest's page. Winners chosen will receive a signed copy of Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn's newly published book called, as you might have guessed, Half the Sky.

Perhaps the most important parts of this issue are the "Do-It-Yourself Foreign Aid" and "Organizations Supporting Women in Developing Countries" pieces, accompanied by Lisa Belkin's explanation of gendered giving in "The Power of the Purse." Audre Lorde wrote, "The essence of a truly global feminism is the recognition of connection." The struggles of women around the globe are the struggles of women everywhere; as women in the Western world and women of means in the Global South, we must find a way to wield the privilege we possess in order to dismantle systems of oppression which keep other women's needs from being met. Problems are not monolithic, and neither are solutions. The only thing that is not an option is failing to act.

Cross-posted to Bitch Magazine's On the Map blog

Written by: Mandy Van Deven, August 20th 2009

Confessions of a Mullah Warrior

admin — Fri, 05 Jun 2009 23:53:00 +0000

By Masood Farivar

Atlantic Monthly Press

“History is full of great men,” Masood Farivar declares as a young man, about a third of the way into his memoir, Confessions of a Mullah Warrior. Luckily, Uncle Jaan Agha rhetorically slaps him on the back of the head, half a page later. The topic is dropped then, and for the remainder of the narrative. Confessions of a Mullah Warrior is full of Farivar’s mostly unintentional awkwardness with women, which is at times induced by modesty, at times total miscommunication, and mostly, it is innocent.

Farivar tells the story of his maturation, even though he seems to continually avoid growing up. Focusing on incidentals and plot rather than personal details, the book leaves the reader with a greater sense of Afghan customs and heritage than of the man who is Masood Farivar.

Farivar surveys his past longingly, abashedly, and ashamedly. Longing for the sense of homeland lost, he emigrates from Afghanistan to Pakistan and finally to the U.S., seemingly moving farther in body and spirit from a sense of belonging. All the while, Farivar seems to yearn more to fit into his environment than to be himself, and he seems a bashful adolescent well past the age. Farivar shamefully reproaches himself for trying to fit—and then for fitting in too well.

Farivar’s concerted attempt at placing himself in the center of world events and of using his life as a metaphor for every other mujahideen, martyr, and bystander causes him to be lost in the narrative. This is especially true as Farivar allows himself to indulge in some of the more irritating themes of the genre. There is also a constant need to find humor in a naive attempt to reclaim ownership of one’s past, and the memoir is replete with retrospective irony, which is pointed out to the reader each and every time.

Overall, while Confessions of a Mullah Warrior gives the reader a greater sense of the Afghani experience of repetitive conflicts and exile, it does not give the reader a sense of Masood Farivar.

Written by: Elisheva Zakheim, June 5th 2009

Walking the Precipice: Witness to the Rise of the Taliban in Afghanistan

admin — Sat, 02 May 2009 16:33:00 +0000

By Barbara Bick

The Feminist Press

A deluge of books on Islamic fundamentalism had swamped the world's bookshelves following the wake of the 9/11 attacks. Some 100 books and 5,600 articles were written on the subject, many focussing on the lives of Afghan women under Taliban rule. I chose to review Barbara Bick's Walking the Precipice: Witness to the Rise of the Taliban in Afghanistan despite knowing well that another book on Afghanistan and its peripheral issues would fill me with some apprehension. Would it be yet another sob story about those poor burqa-clad women and how much they need to unveil their faces, I wondered?

Thankfully, Bick's book is a little more than that. Walking the Precipice is a fascinating insight through the eyes of a long-time feminist activist in a country devastated by war and deprivation. Bick's keen observation and intrepid spirit for someone her age (she was sixty-five and arthritic on her first trip to Afghanistan in 1990, seventy-eight years old on her last) is inspiring and makes reading a well-trodden and tiresome topic easier. In her memoirs, readers will learn quite intimately of her arduous travels and passion for the local women's liberation groups that began as nothing more than her “one last, unforgettable journey before 'old age' kicked in.”

Once in Kabul, Bick, together with a small group of American women made their rounds in orphanages, schools, international health agencies, and support organisations for women widowed by the war. Not surprisingly, the burqa would immediately come to her attention – both a symbolic and physical form of repression she feels impassioned to lift.

In 2001, Bick returned to Afghanistan, this time to an even more dangerous terrain: a region dominated by the Northern Alliance, the anti-Taliban militia. Her journal entries at this stage become a gripping countdown of events preceding the 9/11 attacks, including the assassination of the Northern Alliance's leader, Ahmad Shah Massoud, by suspected Al-Qaeda terrorists. In the final section of the book, she witnesses during her return in 2003 the drafting of the Declaration of the Essential Rights of Afghan women and the post-9/11 reconstruction, marking a poignant cadence to her adventures in Afghanistan.

Bick and her cohorts, all foreign-based, are the dominant figures in this story. With little evidence of Afghan female agency throughout the book, Bick and Co. appear to do much of the "rescuing", reinforcing the idea that feminism is a privileged woman's preoccupation. The one major weakness in Walking the Precipice is the second-hand interpretation of events due to her inability to speak any of the local languages. She appears to be a sympathetic observer at best, but a helpless bystander of the injustice around her at worst.

Just as interesting is Bick's experience with the different strands of activists fighting for the Afghan women's cause. On her first trip, she travelled with a feminist with a strident pro-Soviet political agenda, while on her second she was in the company of an anti-communist member of the Kabul elite. These are all examples of how groups that are ideologically each other's polar opposites can come to agreement, for better or worse, on providing international aid to Afghan women and children.

All in all, Bick's slim memoir, although fascinating, recounts in the manner of adventurous Western holiday-makers and gap-year students in faraway, dangerous places. It is vivid, as many good travelogues are but it is hardly groundbreaking in the sea of post-9/11 books.

Written by: Alicia Izharuddin, May 2nd 2009

Kabul in Winter: Life Without Peace in Afghanistan

admin — Fri, 11 May 2007 12:14:00 +0000

By Ann Jones

Metropolitan Books

Usually when I read a memoir, I don’t really expect to learn anything. I might laugh or cry at the writer’s personal tragedies, but my expectations for experiencing some profound level of enlightenment is absent. After reading Kabul in Winter, I will now only read memoirs that are as thoughtfully written, educational and eye-opening as Ann Jones’s account of her time spent in Afghanistan.

Even though this book will probably be found in the “Current Events” or “Politics” section of any radical bookstore, Jones’s account of her travels is better written than most memoirs. Immediately, the reader is dropped into the streets of Kabul post-US invasion of Afghanistan. Permeating every personal thought that Jones includes is an historical account of the political situations of Kabul. Jones takes us through the streets, the prisons and the schools of Afghanistan’s capital, describing the city’s horrendous situation without ever provoking the reader to view the people of Kabul as a charity case. Jones has the professional and intelligent capability of showing a situation, yet not sensationalizing a marginalized community that so many authors and journalists are incapable of achieving.

Most of the previous reviews of this book have used either the words “haunting” or “disturbing” to describe Jones’s exposition. The word that came to my mind when I read it was “honest.” Your response to the book will probably depend on where you are coming from politically. If you are new to thinking about the corruption in international politics, what a city looks like after it has been through a war, and how women are treated in patriarchal and sexist societies, then the narrative will probably feel like a “haunting” account. If, however, you are aware of the destruction that the US did (and still does) to Afghanistan, how women are treated in prisons and that not every school in the world has sufficient materials or even a classroom in which to instruct children, then you will extremely appreciate Jones’s honesty and unwavering attention to detail.

Also, a feminist rhythm pulses throughout her entire narrative, as Jones decided to report on the situation of the women’s prison instead of discussing the difficulty of men finding jobs in Kabul. Not that one of these topics is more important than the other, but Jones finds a way to report on the plight of women that dominant media sources usually ignore. I had such pleasure, yet also a strange sense of relief to read Jones’s feminist, honest memoir and political portrayal of Kabul.

Written by: Chelsey Clammer, May 11th 2007