Farewell Speeches

A few nights ago I played at a surprise going away party for a woman at the Canadian Embassy. She was a strong advocate for our school and a loyal concert-goer, so it made sense that I was there to represent ANIM and to salute her for her support. After playing Tchaikovsky's Valse Sentimentale, I was joined by three guitarists for a sing-a-long rendition of Green Day's Time of Your Life; as ever, the go-to favorite for weddings, graduations and other poignant occasions. As is the fashion, one of the guitarists still had his gun strapped to this leg.

After the performances, the woman addressed the small gathering and despite being quite emotional, she somehow made it to the end of her speech. I could tell by the way her voice trembled, that her time spent working in Kandahar and Kabul had really changed her. And I could also sense that she was dealing with the kinds of emotions you only feel at profound turning points in your life. Afghanistan had done things to her, things that would change her forever. Listening to her speech, I was struck by the thought that one day I too will have to leave Kabul, and when I do, I will have to wrestle to understand the person I have become.

But what she really seemed to express, without saying it outright, was a kind of love for Afghanistan--even if living and working here can be completely exhausting and even if this country faces countless obstacles, there is hope. It's a love I am also beginning to understand.

About Teaching

After three months in Kabul I feel ready to write honestly about the challenges of teaching here. The thing is it’s almost impossible to separate everything about Afghanistan from my experience as a music teacher; it’s just such a complicated and bewildering place. And the weirdest thing is that the longer I’m here, the harder it is to write about my life. I suppose the overall experience itself is so consuming that I can’t properly distance myself enough to document it. But I will try my best to cover the challenges that I face on a daily basis.

The most daunting challenge is teaching in a difficult foreign language. What I didn’t realize at first is that the language of music pedagogy is tremendously complex. It can be very simple and boiled down, but the best technical or musical explanations require imagination and spontaneity. As a result, teaching a good lesson in Dari (one of two national languages of Afghanistan) can be totally exhausting. On a side note, I have a little British cello student who comes for a lesson every week and the experience of teaching in English is unbelievably satisfying. However, the more Dari I learn and the more I know about Afghan culture, the easier it is to connect personally and pedagogically with my students.

Cello students Nadeem and Yama

I’m sure Afghanistan is one of the only places in the world where the majority of the pop music found on the radio is in 7/8 time. Most Afghan music alternates between long instrumental unisons and vocal verses, accompanied by a driving, relentless rhythm section. There is no harmony, chord progressions or modulation. When you grow up listening to this music, it’s extremely difficult to then adapt to the rigid and rule-based structures of western music. Many of my students really struggle with rhythm and harmony, and I mean REALLY struggle. Elements of music that I grew up absorbing on the radio and at home (like the easy flow of ¾ meter, the feel of the leading tone, or the sound of the tonic-dominant relationship) are just not in their bones. Even when teaching ear-training, associating moods and characters with tonalities like major or minor can be very problematic.

Another (far more insurmountable) challenge is that many of the students at the school don’t have strong, positive parental support. I see it primarily in my classes, many kids lack both discipline and motivation. Instead of raising a hand to answer a question, the entire class will start shouting random answers in an effort to be heard above the crowd. Many students yearn to be praised and singled out as smart or special or talented. I suppose this is true with most children, but I have to wonder if the lack of assertive and involved parenting is a factor. I also wonder if they’re accustomed to free-for-all classroom environments where it’s essentially survival of the fittest. Interestingly, many of our students come from an orphanage called afceco where they have a thriving little music program and a wonderful, caring staff. Although these children are orphans, they excel and show tremendous promise due to the dedication and support of their caretakers.  Undoubtedly, with a discipline like music, the role of the parent (or guardian) as moderator and enforcer is absolutely crucial.

Orchestra rehearsal

All of these obstacles come with the territory. Many of the students grew up during the reign of the Taliban and were forbidden from playing and even listening to music. And even after the fall of the Taliban, music has remained a controversial field of study. The odds are set against our students, but they continue to show up and try their best. And despite the many serious challenges, I feel optimistic about the future. For most of these kids, music is an extraordinary outlet; it is the thing that teaches them to strive and struggle to accomplish something, developing self-esteem, imagination and a feeling of artistic sensitivity. And even if none of our students pursue music professionally, I’m certain that the experience of learning an instrument will benefit them in unexpected ways later in life.

CBS Story

This CBS story came out a few days ago and several people have already contacted me about it. In case you haven't seen it, please take a second to check it out!

Seven Days in Nepal

Every year, towards the end of October, Muslim countries celebrate the Eid holiday. Initially, I had planned to spend the time off visiting Bamiyan with three of my colleagues. Bamiyan is an extraordinary site in western Afghanistan where several massive Buddhist statues loom out of the cliff face. But unfortunately we were unable to get seats on the last plane out there.

Bhaktapur village

A monastery scene

Feeling desperately in need of not only a vacation, but a change of scenery, I started looking into other travel options. One night while eating dinner with my friend and colleague Derek Beckvold, I casually suggested the possibility of going to Kathmandu. He liked the idea and within fifteen minutes, we had booked our tickets. It was one of the best spur-of-the-moment decisions I've ever made.

Swayambhunath Temple

Boudhanath Temple

We spent the first night in the heart of Kathmandu, in a neighborhood called Thamel. This area is basically a hangout for trekkers and tourists. From there we went north, hiking around the beautiful Shivapuri National Park and visiting two magical mountain monasteries. Over the next few days we visited the main attractions; Hindu temples and Buddhist Stupas throughout and around the Kathmandu area. And our last days were spent to the east of the city, exploring the mountain villages of Bhaktapur, Nagarkot and Dhulikhel, with each place offering even more stunning views of the Himalayas.

View of the Himalayas from Dhulikhel

The goats of Shivapuri

It was a wonderful trip and well-deserved break from the intensity of life and the challenge of work in Afghanistan. We met all kinds of characters along the way and experienced a different pace and style of life. The great thing about living in Kabul is that I have easy access to travel anywhere in Asia or the Middle East. And I'm already thinking about where to go next!

Minuet No. 3

When I flew to Kabul, I crammed as much sheet music as I possibly could into into one large priority mailing box. I brought pedagogical books for teaching as well as music for my own study. I have to admit, I was a little too ambitious thinking that I could tackle Kodaly Solo Sonata and Berio Sequenza, in addition to teaching full-time, six days a week. Not happening.

Of course I brought along the Suzuki books. They are absolutely indispensable. After realizing that the library at school did not own Suzuki Book Two, I brought my own copy from home to share with Nazira, one of my most talented and hard-working students. This is the very same book I played from when I was first learning the cello. It's full of funny little doodles and lots of reminders like, "don't forget to count to three!" and "REACH for the G sharp!" There's even a shopping list on the back page.

Nazira and I playing a duet at an ANIM student concert

One day, after deciding that Nazira was ready to move on to the next piece, I turned the page to Bach's Minuet No. 3. There, above the title, was a date. 3/25/98. Indeed, I had been struggling through the very same piece almost thirteen years ago. Upon seeing that date, I was hit by a wave of emotion and nostalgia. I suddenly came face to face with the twelve year old me; trying to master those tricky slurs and grappling with the uncharted territory of third position. In that moment, I was struck by a sudden and deep understanding of my relationship to music and saw my journey up to this point in a new light.

I guess like everything in life, our passions and joys change and evolve. We grow up and on to new places, new relationships, new discoveries, new triumphs and disappointments and of course, new Suzuki books. And as I look back and think about my teachers, I can't help but feel tremendous pride in knowing that I am now a part of the tradition that guided and inspired me throughout my years as a student. I wonder what else I'll find in the pages of my old Suzuki books.

Reflections

Today marks one month living and teaching in Kabul! Incidentally, today was also "Teachers Day," a school-wide event honoring the ANIM faculty. I arrived in the morning to find my room decorated with streamers and little paper flowers. Throughout the morning, the faculty was led from room to room where feasts had been prepared and laid out by the students. There was cake, dancing, music, speeches, gift-giving and more. It was quite touching as students came up to me to shake my hand and to congratulate me on being a teacher. What better way to celebrate one month in Afghanistan!

Teachers Day cake

I thought I would reflect on this anniversary by traveling back in time and revisiting the events that led me up to this moment. When I first heard about the opportunity to teach in Kabul, I knew deep down that I had no choice but to go. Something drew me to it. I applied for the job without really thinking it through completely. But when I was actually offered the position, I had to really take a step back and give it some serious thought. Even after making the decision to take the job, it took me almost three months to fully accept the fact that I was actually going. Some days I would be thrilled and excited, and other days I would be deeply, profoundly anxious.

A banana merchant

Nothing would prepare me for my last days in New York before my departure. I wanted to savor every moment of my familiar life before it all vanished. At the same time, I was extremely restless and subject to sudden waves of panic and emotion. Then, just a few days before leaving, my Grandmother passed away. We had been expecting it for awhile, but the news was still shocking and tragic. It was a hard time. My Mom had decided to take a job in New Jersey, leaving my Dad to look after the house in Virginia. She was struggling with the fact that she would be living in a new place by herself and having me move halfway across the world. My girlfriend, while ever-supportive, was nervous for me and afraid, as I was, about the impending year of long-distance. The mixture of excitement and anxiety was overwhelming.

Kabul

After a devastatingly difficult farewell to my girlfriend at the airport a few days later, I finally stepped on to the plane bound for Kabul. At that moment I was struck by the oddest feeling of profound relief. The hardest part was the waiting. When I felt the airplane take off I knew that this was it, a new chapter of my life had begun.

Mostly pictures

I've finally started to get into the flow of things here in Kabul. Every day is easier. I learn more Dari, meet more people and feel more comfortable with my students and my colleagues. It's still hard to believe that just four short months ago I was living the sheltered life of a conservatory student. That life seems so distant now. Anyways, I would like to devote this entry to sharing a few pictures from the past week...

A group of young ANIM boys

My student, Fikria, performing

Afghan ensemble with Ustad Murad before a performance

Faculty recital at ANIM

Student percussion performance

Student performance at the UN Peace Day event

Irfan Khan, the extraordinary sarod teacher

Stay tuned for more updates and pictures!