Zach’s internet connection is a bit sketchy, but he’s asked me to post on his behalf on RSU. I know most of you would be interested in what he’s up to 
Salaam aleykum from Bamyan, Afghanistan,
Attachments: pictures from local bazaar, the circus juggling room, and
nighttime trash burning (trash is pitched into the streets), and a
video from my arrival greeting of a traditional dance.
I wake up to the sound of fists banging on my door at 8:30 am.
"Zachee, zachee." Several circus kids are waiting for me to watch
them juggle. They want me to teach them a new trick. My eyes feel
bruised by the light after having stayed up until midnight watching an
Iranian movie about love and destiny with Fahim, age 19, the circus
tai qwon do instructor, and Shafi, age 24, the guard at the circus
compound.
I throw on a shalwar, traditional Afghan clothing, and stumble into
the hallway. "Jayet saist?" Hamid asks me after shaking my hand and
kissing me on the cheek. Hamid is another circus teacher. "Saist," I
say, half wondering if I just mistakenly said "Sa'id," which refers to
the group of people who descended from the prophet Muhammed. I
exchange a few formalities with the children, as customary.
"Chatoresti? Khobi? Khob omed warum. Sahated khob ast? Qowi?" [How
are you? Are you good? I hope so. How is your health? Strong?]
In a nearby room, I can hear girls practicing a traditional Afghan
anthem, singing (in Dari), "Afghanistan is the heart of Asia…" to the
rhythm of tabla drums and a harmonium. Outside, next to the garden,
rows of children (boys and girls) are practicing acrobatics and
martial arts. The house is filled with laughter, bright colors, and
hope. A stark contrast to the dusty streets outside the circus
compound, where these refugee children who fled Kabul during the war
see barbed wire, military guards, collapsed buildings and the
occasional shell of a bombed out car or truck.
It's not everyday that I get to run away and join the circus in
Afghanistan. I arrived safely at the Afghan Mini Circus for Children
(MMCC) on July 2, and am in very hospitable and kind hands. My job is
to train the kids and adult teachers in unicycling and juggling. If
you ask any kid in the Kartese province about the "mobile circus,"
you'll quickly learn that it's a mystical, magical place in the
child's eye. In the life of a child refugee (many families fled to
places like India and Pakistan and now are returning), it's an ivory
tower of hope rising from the rubble, a Garden of Eden for the
developing imagination. Inside the plaster walls of the circus
compound, you find a safe space to play and to dream and to have
agency. These are instrumental additions to international relief such
as blankets from UNESCO, or the biscuits from Feed the Children. I
can't think of a better method of preventing the hostility and
desperation that so often motivates acts of terrorism than through
interventions like this. Certainly, Mullah Omar of the Taliban, or
Gulbudin Hecmatyar, never had this opportunity. They choose violence
through dogmatism and desperation, not dreaming.
How does this circus work in Afghan culture? Let me give an example.
Perhaps you have heard of the national Afghan sport, buskashi. It's a
dangerous and sometimes lethal game, where grown men are trampled to
death annually. Buzkashi players ride on horseback and use long sticks
to move the carcass of a goat toward different goals. It's a national
pride. In one of the MMCC's recent numoishan (performances) the
circus kids turned buskashi into a skit. They played using unicycles
instead of horses, and a little boy pretended to be the goat carcass
as he ran around the stage. The audiences loved it.
This is serious play. The MMCC is a circus by kids, for kids, quickly
transitioning to all-Afghan team of adult trainers and managers. My
heart is deeply moved by everything I have seen since arriving.
My only regret is that I didn't bring more money and circus supplies
to give (and mini-radios). The impact of such resources is immediate
and profound. So far, with your help, we have raised $3700 for these
kids. That leaves $6,300 to reach the goal of $10,000.
I just arrived with the other circus teachers after an 8 hour bumpy
ride in a minivan along a road you'd have to see to believe. Along
the way, we stopped to take a dip in a couple streams, shared fresh
mangos and watermelon, and looked at the temple of Zoroaster, a castle
built into the mountainside (Afghanistan was once a predominantly
Zoroastrian country, then Buddhist, then Islamic). Now I've found a
place that has internet (which is rather unbelievable, but there are
nearly 50 NGOs here, so they bring the business), but am off for
dinner. If you can manage the occasional stomach problems Afghan
foods cause, it's wonderful ("ajeebu harib"). Lots of potatoes,
eggplant, and onions with naan. Tomorrow we perform in front of the
Buddha statues that were demolished by the Taliban. This area is a
center for Hazaras, one of the minority ethnic groups that has long
had tensions with the Taliban.
A few personal notes to in-kind donors (I don't get to the internet
very often, so here's my chance):
Steve of Cirque du Soleil: every piece of juggling equipment you made
is being used daily. The kids love it. The only trouble is that they
sometimes fight to use it. "Nobut ba nobut," we have to tell them,
which means "Take turns."
John and Amy of Unicycle.com: the basic unicycle you donated is the
best unicycle the kids have, and again they quarrel to practice on it.
John of the kids circus in Ottowa: We look forward to picking up your
package of circus supplies when it arrives. Your military contact can
call Chris' cell: 079374515
Thanks for reading.
Khodafez,
Zach
some are looking at it liike, hmm should i be watching this nutcase