Mammals in a State of Emergency

done

2007-11-26T20:57:00.000+10:00

pakistan is done. in mumbai now researching new show. i won't be blogging as much here. limited access and we're busy, mostly in a village area outside mumbai.

International Incident

2007-11-24T05:44:00.000+10:00

Our second and last show went very well. No offense to the Canadian collaborators we've worked with in the past, but the Pakistani's were the best ever. They really acclimatized to the style quickly and were really comfortable onstage, not at all nervous and really able to listen and react without any awkwardness. They were correcting each other and making jokes really nicely. It's too bad we only got to do the two shows. It would have been so nice to do a couple more. We had some nice interviews. One guy admitted that when his grandfather died he laugh but he didn't know why. The scar people we had up onstage were great too. Some serious scars. One woman who got badly electrocuted and lost the tip of her thumb and a guy who had been badly burned - he was voted best scar and the audience interviewed him. The audience was great, too. There were a couple of little kids - our hotel manager's sons - and they chimed in with a bunch of questions. In fact, the woman with the thumb was the manager's wife. All around good show. A couple of tech glitches because Fiasal was sleeping but this is not a show report so i won't mention them.

LAL came by to see the show - they're in town to do the festival.

So the INTERNATIONAL INCIDENT

All week we've had problems getting our Pakistani collaborators food in the food tent. They're classified as volunteers so the rules state that they cannot eat. We've bitched about it and had them approved but the information never seems to makes it's way down from the top to the minions that guard the food. Whenever they're told to leave, it's always done discreetly and not in front of us and we only figure it out later, because they're too embarrassed to make a deal out of it. It happened again tonight so we had some words with the food guards and get them in. We also got one of their friends in, who had been hanging out and helping. A few minutes later, they came after this guy - a guy who was not officially part of anything. We stood up for him and - because of the history of the food thing - stood our ground. They basically insisted that he leave so we all stood up to go. It was happening fast and was kind of confusing. One of our hosts noticed we were leaving and said goodbye to us. So we talked to her about our dissatisfaction with the whole situation. She didn't know that our collaborators had appeared on stage with us and insisted that they were mere volunteers.(even though, what was really at issue with this one guy who shouldn't have been there technically speaking) I was confused as to why she was insisting that the people were not performers and insisted they were. She insisted they weren't. I said something like "how would you know, you didn't see our show?" Finally she understood that they WERE onstage with us, she apologized and we sat back down, deciding that we had to accept their hospitality. But it was still tense. I felt bad for the guy who we had sneaked in, though they still were hassling our collaborators. It got very confusing for awhile and it wasn't clear what the hell the correct way to handle it might have been.

comments

2007-11-23T20:27:00.000+10:00

I just noticed I had the comments settings set for only people who are registered on blogger. I've changed that so that anyone can post. Sorry about that. I was wondering why I hadn't heard from my mom. Are you there, Lianne?

opening night

2007-11-23T20:03:00.000+10:00

opened the show last night. the governor showed up to the festival so we were delayed an hour and a half and i think it affected the size of the house. which was a good thing. consider it a preview. and starting late was fine, too, we needed the time. We were able to use it to do a quick run through the cues. our hosts, the Peerzada family didn't show, though an entire row had been reserved for them. I think the governor takes precedent.

The show was okay. Not great. Mostly happy that everyone hit their marks. There was some good laughter now and again but I think the low-fi aspect of the show just looks cheap here as does the low-fi aspects of the performance. WE're all just speaking off the cuff, no memorized lines, so we do look like a bunch of amateurs. And we kind of are - Rebecca, Adeel and myself are the only ones onstage who have spent a lot of time onstage. Adeel was really good in the section where he interviewed people about their scars. We get 5 people up, hear their scar stories and then get the audience to vote on which is the best. We give that guy a big bouquet of flowers and then invite the audeicne to interview him. It was a guy who had got a cut on his head when he was almost caught drinking beer by his mother. He fell down or something. It was all in Urdu so I'm not sure what was happening.

The scar thing works well, I think, as we ended up tying it to the scar of the partition of 1947. In fact, of all the Diplomatic Immunities, this one feels like it actually makes sense - that there's a reason behind the topic.

I agree with Steph. It was anti-climactic. I'm looking forward to being relaxed on the stage tonight.

Tomorrow we're off to Mumbai to do research on the next project.

guestlist: Musharaff + 1

2007-11-23T18:16:00.000+10:00

Well, we did our first show last night to a house of about 50 or so. It was strange. I’d never done theatre before or theatre in a very, very foreign country for that matter. It kinda felt anti-climactic. Like it didn’t really matter or the presentation was inconsequential. And it’s true to a certain degree. I mean, we needed to have something to show to the festival of course. But the energy during the show was dulled. The most exciting thing of the show was making sure we hit cues. We are in a very different country with a very different cultural make-up so the translation of the show was maybe different. But it shouldn’t have been because we’re essentially just talking to eachother and people about things that maybe come up in everyday banal speak. Or maybe not. I don’t know. I couldn’t read the audience at all.

discussion between Mr Faisal and poppy

2007-11-22T14:18:00.000+10:00

Poppy; welcome!
Mr Faisal; Thanks,
but are you really serious, Is this normal.
how it can be, culture, society, respect, acceptance
Mr Faisal said again; for me everything is normal.. I love to see hidden
Poppy; Why you do it?
Mr Faisal; I love it
Poppy; Why you do it?
Mr Faisal; I enjoy it
Poppy; Why you do it?
Mr Faisal; I don’t care
Poppy; Why you do it?
Mr Faisal; I am working
Poppy; Why you do it?
Mr Faisal; I have my way, and that’s it!!!!!!!!!!

Poppy; don’t launch @ me
Mr Faisal; han, sure hahahahaha
Poppy; don’t see my naked body
Mr Faisal; that’s where earth and sky come together
Poppy; I can do what I know.
Mr Faisal; I need more
Poppy; I can do what I know.
Mr Faisal; I need more
Mr Faisal; I can do what I know.
Mr Faisal; I need more
Mr Faisal; I need more
Poppy; I can do what I know.
Mr Faisal; I need more
Mr Faisal; I need more
Poppy; I can do what I know.
Mr Faisal; I need more
Mr Faisal; I need more
Poppy; I can do what I know.
Mr Faisal; I need more
Mr Faisal; I need more
Poppy; I can do what I know.
Mr Faisal; I need more
Mr Faisal; I need more
Poppy; I can do what I know.
Mr Faisal; I need more

Mr Faisal; how you even alive
Poppy; I have no choice
Mr Faisal; I don’t accept this bull shit
I don’t trust you
you don’t think like me
I will laugh
and I will laugh openly
I am ignorant.... I don’t care...I rule it
I know the truth
I love to judge
I can judge
I have reasons
I am not interested in your beauty
I have my choice
I have my world
I have to fill the space

Poppy; I am disappoint
I am sad
I am alone
its all in the surfer
you want to see what I hide
you want to know what I ignore
you want to do which is not universal
simplicity makes you launch
I learnt to walk when I was 40 years
my legs are week
I can wait for sun
you will not I know
I do care
but I don’t have good coffee

if I can do it
you can too!

Mr Faisal; My intensions are not bad,
I am just very curious
I do cry and I do have scars
but I let them go
I love you

congratulation I got my first scar

hm

2007-11-22T13:44:00.000+10:00

It's unnerving to be performing now, with all the protests against musharaff and the closing of the media. I'm sighing again at my naive surprise that the festival is - essentially - aligning itself with Musharaff. I guess it's best to chalk it up to: "things are not that simple." Wajeehah feels that the journalists are making a big deal out of nothing, that the employees of the stations continue to work, it will be on the air soon, that the journalists have only been jailed for a couple of days and no one has been tortured.

Festival as grease to some wheels. Economic wheels? Social wheels? It's disconcerting to be continuing with the show. And I feel self conscious trying to comprehend it. Are the festival and the audience part of the problem? Part of team Musharaff? Is that dumb? What is this festival that it escapes censure and seems not to worry about freedom of speech.

so tired

2007-11-22T02:34:00.000+10:00

all we've been doing is working since sunday. edited all day monday. edited and rehearsed on tuesday, edited and rehearsed on wednesday. very exhausted. who knows what the show will be like. it's going to be pretty zany, in any case.

lot's to say, but not right now.

Adeel

2007-11-20T15:59:00.003+10:00

btw, that's a video from Adeel's band. He's the singer.

post from last year

2007-11-20T15:58:00.001+10:00

this is from that post i talked about in my previous post just below

this from last year:

the festival ended last night.
in a conversation with shafiq he says we will leave in the night. i say good. he says we will leave in the morning. (?!)
it is night. he comes into my room and says he is leaving and i will leave in the morning because there is no room to take me. fine. i get ready to sleep. he comes in and tells me to get my stuff. i think i'm moving to a different room since there are very few people around and the place is kind of creepy. i take my stuff. he guides me over to a car and says i'm going tonight. fantastic. i get into the car. we wait. people pile in. we drive. we approach the gate. shafiq puts his hand on my shoulder and says he must take someone else first and i will spend the night and then leave in the morning. i say nothing. the driver keeps driving. we go through the gate, down the road, through the village, onto the highway, down the highway. 2 hours later we arrive at shafiq's place. i go to sleep in my old room, a room i never thought i would consider palatial.

editing

2007-11-20T15:19:00.000+10:00

I've been in my hotel room for 12 hours. editing.
Adeel came by yesterday and translated about 40 minutes of video for me. It took four hours. I need him to tell me exact in and out points for very brief sentences. It's really boring work. Once he left I had to piece it together with the notes I had made, hoping that it was all making sense.

Rebecca came back last night in a state of hysterical laughter. I was so happy to see that her first day teching was reminiscent of my time trying to do Q&A last year, I just wanted someone to experience the weird experience that I had that it was more than mere language barriers happening. I'll let her tell the story once she joins blogger, but, briefly, she was treated like a woman who knows nothing. Which is something that happens in Canada. But she's knows lots and lots and can tech circles around most anyone in canada and pakistan. When she made that clear by sorting through some light bulbs, the head electrician stopped talking to her.

Communication here - if my experience last year is any gauge - happens in what feels laterally to me. Or something. People agree to things but they don't materialize or they take forever or they look very different than what you had thought you were talking about. For some funny accounts take a look at my blog from last year. click on my profile and you can find it.

The disturbing thing about it is that, in my case, I'm often left with three options: the person is being rude, the person is being stupid, the person is from another culture. I'm quick to rule out the first two, because most people are polite and smart but I'm still left disturbed and baffled. See my november 29, 2006 entry in the Darren in Pakistan and India blog from last year for a detailed account of the confusion I often feel here.

Gora

2007-11-19T23:55:00.000+10:00

The word 'gora' means 'whitey.'

i dont care if the grass is greener on the other side... i love my dirty patch! visit to the schools

2007-11-19T15:43:00.000+10:00

Having sepnt almost half my life... what encountered me in the past three days has not even mildly affected me... why... maybe it is the constant talking of my Mr Hyde over the years that led me to come to terms with the whole situation.... thank you to you my Mr Hyde...
oh mention not kido...
yeah well i have to, i have been with you long enough to actually become used to your negatives infact even use them as my positives but cant deny you kill me every second with the pile of realizations you keep throwing at me...
yeah yeah i have that effect on people, but hey i was surprised the way those other three locals acted, dont they have their Mr Hydes with them....
oh you mean wajeeha, bushra and zayn...
yeahhhhh like they were acting as if they are from another place, you know kido they just proved to be a bunch of wannabees....
well sir i dont think so, maybe their reactions were genuine...
Ohhhh cut the crap you know it as well as i do that they were just trying to act 'special'...
everyone is special sir....
yeah but not a poser; everyone is not a poser...
hmmmm wellllll...
well what kido you have to put yourself in their shoes and you l know....
yeah i guess i see your point...
yeah you see, i was amazed the way these people acted in the school, Profesor they were acting as tourists themselves...
well sir maybe they had not seen a school of this sort before...
well sir this, well sir that!!!!! that is an assumption, these people are just benumbed, for them people like those in the school were just as good as guinea pigs, and they were having a day in analyzing them...
hmmm...
being one with those people in the school is something else, but acting as if one had to make an effort to come down to their level so as to reach to them was just plain stupid, maybe they could play innocent with them goras, but they couldnt get better of you, did they?...
well i dont know what to say...
look kido, tell me which one of them comes from a background that doesnt relate to those people in the school...
so you are trying to say that it was just as if they had forgotten their own past, thier own roots....
hahahaha you poor simpleton, not forgotten just denied...!
well sir arent you being a little hard on them...
Professor tell me werent they hard in twisting around reactions to make an impression, or while working around words to present their own ideas as facts....
Mr Hyde arent you doing the same....
Hahaha of course not professor, you are just being too forgiving. i am being what i am... honest!
but at the cost of hurtinng people's feelings....
at the cost of being honest to myself at least....
okay tell me Mr hyde what did you see...
well i saw my people, human beings just like me, with similar reactions interests likes dislikes pains joys, living in conditions that i can relate to without the least bit of surprise,more than half of the population lives like that and i was once a part of this, they were not people who surprised me, they were people who reminded me of what i am, they were the people whow made me believe in hope, they were the people who made me see the world as it is and not like a sugar candy, they were the people who are the real people, who dont pose, who dont act, who are what they are!!!!
hmmm so keeping what you said in mind, what do you think of the other school...
hahaha one of the setups that churns out people like those three wannabees....
so you didnt find people honest or true there....
of course not; all what they spoke about the end of the world and how they associated it with the religous teachings, was a far cry form what they actually feel. i could see it in their eyes that those were engineered thoughts. thoughts that were produced due to the ambience of four goras, a camera, an opportunity to produce your best to make an impression as a student of an expensive school a religous devotee a patriot ; not even half of them knew what patriotism was!!!! compare what they said with what people said at the other school or in old Anarkali- that old man venting out his pain, or that man in the book binding shop, or that woman feeling pure joy at speaking her heart out that she even sang!!!!
hmmm i see your point Mr Hyde....
double standards i call it all. living with lies. HAHAHAHAHAHA this world is no better than me... See you Professor
wait i got to talk to you about heera mandi....
hahaha later kido... be strong till then... the lies dont end here!

A visit to Coal mine in search of Diamonds.

2007-11-19T05:45:00.000+10:00

What comes to your mind when you hear the word Heera Mandi? Those of you who do not belong to Lahore might take it the “Diamond Market” as a jewellery place. Those who have been to Lahore know it as the unofficial red light area. But heera mandi was not an inappropriate place from its inception. It resides in the neighborhood of Lahore Fort and was developed, as a residential for artisans and courtesans who used to sing and dance for the King.

These artisans were famous for their grace and elegance. People from rich and respectable households would send their children to learn etiquettes and manners from the night angels of the darbar. These women were not only skilled but also had a grace and grandeur of their own.

With the passage of time, this splendid civilization of the Kings decayed. The classic era of heera mandi also faded with it. During the war of independence in 1857, a handful of Princess and girls from the royal blood; also known as ‘Mughalzadis’, were picked up by the singers and dancers. The dead ancestors of these blue blooded females were not there to protect them from the harsh realities of life anymore. Brought up by the “bai”, these pretty girls with long black mane and big eyes took their place and started contributing to this world, the beauty of their voice.

It probably was the same era when prostitution entered this business. It might have been there in practice earlier at a small level. Hence, Heera Mandi became a place for those who wanted to spent money on something considered as un-Islamic and despicable by the respectable families. Fast forwarding the later years, it was in late 1970’s, during the Zia regime, that prostitution was banned. General Zia-ul-Haq, a military dictator took initiatives to stop prostitution in this part of Lahore. Consequently, a lot of women living here shifted to other parts of the city. They can now be found at Defense, Allama Iqbal town, Faisal Town etc. Many of them are now highly educated, well spoken elite class escorts.

Living in Lahore for the last 5 years and visiting this place since childhood, somehow I never got a chance to peek into Heera Mandi. As a child, my parents would consider it inappropriate for us, or anyone of the family to visit the place. As I grew up, I began to realize the irony of the people living in this area and those of the likes of them.

These women will always be socially unacceptable. People would consider them worthy enough to have a physical relationship with them, but they will not marry them. Despite their education, they would not get good jobs. They have no other way out but to do what they have been doing for years. Unless, the leave the country and go somewhere they will be a total stranger, their birth at the wrong place have been more than a curse to them. These women should be sympathized with, instead of being despised for what this unfair society has made them.

I made a very recent and probably the only trip to Heera Mandi with Rebbeca, Natalie, Faisal, Bushra, Stephnie, Adeel, Dareen, Zayn and our guard Azkar. Keeping the background in mind, what do you think will a Heera Mandi look like?

Women peeking out of windows, sounds of tabla beats and ghungro, Melodious voices flowing outside the street……………..Nah! What we saw was a street with lots of light and traditional shoes made up of leather and colourful thread aso known as Khussa. There was no musical sound, none women at all! Adeel’s friend came over to help us out in finding our required subjects. The idea was to talk to some prostitutes and some singers about their feelings about life, death and scars. Apparently, our guide himself was new to the area and this cause. He was embarrassed at being in such a place finding out such women.

Adeel and his friend gauge a man into taking us to them. We walked into a dark, dingy alley, which was full of garbage and over flowing gutter. It was so narrow that two people could hardly walk at a time. Such was the impact of the entire area and the environment that it started getting to us gradually. Walking through the dark alley made me realize how lucky and blessed I was. For a moment I considered life in one of those houses. The piles of garbage lying outside was nothing compared to the trash that took place inside them. Earlier in the evening, I had accidentally called Heera Mandi “Cheera Mandi” and gave Faisal and Adeel a good laugh. At that instance in the dingy place, I realized ironically that this place should have been called what I called it.

A feeling of helplessness and depression caught me. I guess the other ladies were also experiencing the same feeling. It was as if a dementor was lurking around. I grew cold and numb and felt as if I will never be able to laugh again. Even, when we were back in the lightening area the feeling would not go. Rebbeca and Bushra also felt as if there was malice in the place. Perhaps, it was more of a psychological impact that we felt due to the subtleness of the whole situation. I reluctantly let go of Bushra’s hand when she said she was feeling alright. I still do not know why I felt like running away.

Darren and Faisal tried going again in search of the subjects but they could not get anyone to talk to them on camera or otherwise. Maybe it was the size of the group that intimidated them. Our Guard, Zayn and Adeel made sure that we were all well protected and walking on the appropriate side of the road. Finally, we made our way out to Cukoo’s Den and relaxed, sipping on green tea.

I wish there was something I could do to help those women in there. Why should they not be given another chance? Its certainly what Islam asks us to do. Help those who want to revert. I am sure, we can find out ways, if we reflect deeply. That’s certainly one of the future goals now.

you should have seen the look on our security guards face

2007-11-18T15:27:00.000+10:00

Yes the mayhem of last night in 'the diamond district'.

'The business district' as the english lit teacher so succinctly called the prostitution zone was where we spent a couple of hours, Heera Mindi it's called to locals. This area was historically where the kings royal coutesans resided. The women were trained dancers and performers and were apparantly very skilled at what they did. They would dance the traditional dance with tablas to accompany them. When the age of kings died the courtesans still needed to survive so they eventually became sex workers.

I was scared. We bought shoes. We were OK

playground

2007-11-18T15:18:00.000+10:00

trying to talk to a prostitute

2007-11-18T14:58:00.000+10:00

The red light district was mostly a very large and crowded shoe market. Bright lights, beautiful shoes. Tons of people. No red lights to speak of. As we neared it, the traffic got intense and the streets narrowed. We parked the van and headed out with Oscar our bodyguard. Within a minute Rebecca had her crotch grabbed. We were contstantly dodging motorbikes, autorickshaws, cars and people carrying tons of stuff. We searched for someone who might be able to facilitate an interview with a prostitute. Not so that we could ask questions specific to prostitution but, rather, to ask her the same questions we would ask of anyone. It was tough, how do find a prostitute of you’re a group of 10 people with two video cameras and 4 still cameras. It’s kind of a hopeless exercise, quixotic and perhaps kind of stupid. Oscar kept pushing Faisal to get us out of there, asking why the hell we wanted to be there, it was the most dangerous area of the city.

Maybe I’m naïve, but I suspected that it was a little bit of the Parkdale Syndrome going on. That, in fact, the neighborhood was more or less safe and the only violence occurred between people who live there. Whenever I received what I thought was a hostile gaze I would respond with “asalam alakum” and people would almost inevitably smile warmly.

Finally Adeel called a friend who is an English Lit professor who lives nearby. He came by and did his best to introduce us to some sex workers. It was impossible.The prostitutes wanted nothing to do with us and our stupid interviews. They were very nervous that we were interested in making porn or portray them in a negative light. Understandable. We tried to communicate that we wouldn’t ask them anything about prostitution but it wasn’t understood. The prof took us down a side alley, that was really dark, dank and rundown. Garbage everywhere, mud, an old guy sqatting in the mound of garbage, lots of noise, the panic of all of us, making it event noisier. Adeel took off ahead, out of sight around a corner. Faisal called him again and again. Stephanies stepped into a puddle and muttered ‘shit’ nervously. Someone spat on Bushra’s leg. We followed a disheveled and stumbling guide, wrapped in a dirty blanket, people followed us, people walked past us, in the darkness, fluorescent light coming from somewhere rendered everything in disorienting silhouette,.There was a confused calling of names, other shouts and we lost each other, found each other. Glancing sideways down narrow enclosed walkways, there were families in small rooms. trailing behind the guide was Adeel and The Prof, who Rebecca and I followed down to this tiny side lane way. Everybody stopped and refused to enter the area. R and I were stuck in the middle, in the area that was open on one end and then got drastically narrow. Most of the group froze, stared at us and collectively refusing to go further. It was very funny. It looked like an invisible force field was stopping them. They all stared at us – in the middle, between them and the narrow passage. They wanted us to stop. I peeked down the passage and there was a room very near where, according to the prof, someone was willing to talk. So I stepped in to see if this was going to work. But the woman changed her mind. She was young, with a baby and lots of makeup. We got out of there, very overwhelmed.

Everybody was overwhelmed, the Canadians, the Pakistanis and our body guard. But, again, I wonder about Parkdale Syndrome.

2007-11-18T14:54:00.000+10:00

Musharaff is busy.

2007-11-18T14:51:00.000+10:00

Sadaan, our host, told us that he's having some troubles getting some of the performers from India. "If it comes down to it, I'll have to give our president a call. But I'd prefer avoid that; he's rather busy these days.

The Courier Races of Lahore

2007-11-17T17:41:00.000+10:00

After our excruciatingly 13 long flight we circled over Abu Dhabi for 2 hours with about 10 other planes above and below us. The Abu Dhabi airport looked like it came right out of Star Wars’ Planet of Tatooine. After our 6 hour layover in Abu Dhabi, we finally arrived in Lahore. We’re staying at a beautiful guest house with a front garden. Having not slept for nearly 36 hours, at 5am we were jolted out of bed from our jet-lagged stupor from what I imagined to be refashioned cold-war alarm sirens blasting the morning prayers. The loud speakers, I’m sure, were attached to our hotel room wall. We were later moved to another room inside.

We have been treated with such generosity. Everyone at the festival has been superb to work with: anything and everything is possible. And they mean it. The twins Feizaan and Sardaan gregariously run everything, and along with the staff have an overly positive attitude, and have attended to our every need. Quite different from some of our other presenters.

I thought navigating through the thousands of bicycles in Shanghai traffic was nuts, but there really aren’t any lanes here, either visible by lines or remotely abided by drivers. Cars, motorcycles, buses, horses, donkeys, carts, chi-chi’s, and bicycles all swerve haphazardly as if tying braids in long ribbons. Donkey carts seem to be a fairly common mode of transportation, and there are donkey races every Thursday night. No special awards for acrobatics, technique, or design; the fastest wins. These races are specific to Lahore and to its neighbourhoods and are not a citywide event, although Wajeehah thought this would be something worth looking into.

The ratio of men to women is quite noticeable. Men, men, men, everywhere. And staring. Mostly at Rebecca, she’s fair and blue-eyed. On any given day or evening, it is men that you see shopping, at the flower market, in the stores, walking, bicycling, driving, with only a handful of women sprinkled about. And when sprinkled, you can’t miss them for their sparkling. Shirts, pants, scarves, shoes, earrings, nose-rings are all brilliantly bedazzled. If I tried to pull it off, without question I’d look like a tramp, but somehow these gorgeous women have it down.

Yesterday was our first day with our four collaborators: Wajeehah, Bushra, Zayne, and Adeel. We started the interviews. Our first encounter with the village school children yesterday was surreal. The kids were inquisitive and after their initial shyness, revealed their scars, told us stories, and sang and recited prayers to us. Most likely we were the first westerners that they’d ever seen or encountered. Upon our departure mayhem ensued with a rush for us to ‘autograph’ their schoolbooks and arms. The girls all had penned henna designs on their hands, and so signing our names on their arms conflated our very different worlds. They also fought to sign their names on my arm. We’re working with Feizaan to have a construction contractor look at their front door to build them steps. Right now, the kids have to walk through a pond of open sewage to get inside the school gates.

After we left the village school we went to do interviews with older junior/high-school students at Beaconhouse School System, a girls’ school. The interviews surprised me: when asked about what would be the best way to die, they all said for their country. And the worst way to die would be while not in the midst of doing something holy, like praying. Family or friends didn’t come into consideration. My own consideration about death is that I would want to be with my family and friends, and the worst way to die would be alone. The similar responses by the girls made mine seem selfish and unpatriotic.

Today we’re off to Old Lahore, the walled city, and the red-light district and markets.

scars

2007-11-17T17:13:00.000+10:00

day 4

2007-11-17T17:12:00.000+10:00

pictures of kids in a rural school, a lahore playground in a posh school, a euro style cafe, spinning sufi drummers, the amazing massage guy who used to have a bear and darren

fellini in lahore

2007-11-17T02:18:00.000+10:00

There are a million things to look at every moment here. This combined with the jetlag makes me feel like I’m in a Fellini film; a Fellini film shot in Pakistan with fewer women and less overt sexuality. Maybe more like a Jodoworsky movie then. Surreal, whacked out, opium fueled, and full of infinitely interesting scenes. This man, who is the festival masseuse and now defunct bear tamer, has agreed to do an interview with us on Monday. He gave us all massages whose technique he learned through his father who was taught by his father who was taught by his father…you get the point. No school but literally passed down. He was AMAZING. He used to hang out in the street markets here with his bear probably beside the waving monkey with the sunglasses and the miniature horse with the fake antlers. How Fellini is that?

thickest milk in pakistan

2007-11-17T02:16:00.000+10:00

Every cooking show has the chefs making some sandwich. Chicken or steak, lettuce, tomato, mayo, white bread, cut into triangles. They always seem to cut the crusts off too. Is this part of some deep rooted colonial mentality? I wanna see some gonzo, pornographic Pakistani food with zillions of chillis going in with chicken necks and some crazy guy with black eyeliner and orange henna hair singing about Allah.

the scars of lahore's children

2007-11-17T00:15:00.000+10:00

We went to a nearby village, which is situation just behind the puppetry museum. We walked through this idyllic museum cafe advertised themed dinners for couples on a patio, past into the back to this small village. We walked down a small lane-way with gutters overflowing with raw sewage and then into the public school with an enrollment of 100 kids. We introduced ourselves to the kids and then invited us to interview one of us in Q&A style. More information on Q&A here. They chose Rebecca. They asked her name, where she's from, what she likes about Pakistan.

Then we interviewed them. In Pakistan we're reviving one of the topics that was the most successful when we developing the show: scars. So we talked to the kids about their scars. Rebecca was concerned that this might be tough for the kids but I was pretty sure that they would enjoy the game. And that seemed to be the case. Once we got rolling and the kids got comfortable with us, the volunteers kept coming. Natalie drifted off into a school room and met some other kids, bringing Rebecca, Adeel and Zayne with her while Bushra, Wajeehah, Faisal and myself remained in the outdoor area. So we had two cameras rolling and lots of willing participants. The kids that we interviewed ranged from 8 - 14 or so. There were some good stories: dog bite, dragged by car, bikes hitting rocks, motorcycle wipe out, sewage pipe, sibling battles, etc.

We then went to a private school and met some older girls who spoke to us in English. There were no scars.

A Guide to Practical Jokes

2007-11-16T12:39:00.000+10:00

If you're in a country with higher voltage than your equipment can handle and your friend fries their power bar in a large noisy shower of sparks, next time they go to nervously plug something into the wall, clap as loud as you can and watch them poop their pants.

Digestive Risk Tally 1

2007-11-16T12:35:00.000+10:00

Natalie:
Crushed ice lemon drink made with 'tap water.' Risk Assessment: High.
Drink made with canned pineapple juice and a blended banana. Risk Assessment: Low.
Status: healthy.

Rebecca:
Drink made with canned pineapple juice nad a blended banada. RA: Low.
Status: Constipated.

Darren:
No risks taken.
Status: Woke up at 5:00AM for a hot poo.

Stephanie:
No risks taken.
Status: Healthy.

goitres

2007-11-16T12:16:00.000+10:00

We just came back from taking a walk to combat the jetlag we were all feeling a few hours ago. We came across a night market that sold basically everything. We went into a few stores to look at saris. Darren went into the male equivalent and tried on a traditional men’s suit. He looked like one of those guys that come back from asia with a new wife and a new wardrobe. I made him try the turban on. The suit was beautiful and made Darren look quite regal. The thing about public spaces here is that they’re so ram jammed with men. We tried to play spot the woman driving in our car today and it took a few minutes which is amazing to consider when the population here is 10 million. But we did see a monkey with sunglasses waving to us, a man re-furbishing a foot stool right dead centre of the sidewalk, a miniature horse with fake antlers, piles of pomegranate seeds, a man doing haircuts and shaves beside a construction site in open air, and an albino. Some dude with a goitre on his face the size of an orange put his hand on Natalie’s bottom, got on his motorbike and stared at her. She, amazingly very collected, turned to us and relayed the violation that just occurred. We talked about it afterwards and what would happen if Natalie were really aggressive back. We were literally surrounded by nothing but men. No women at all. Just men and boys everywhere. Men and boys everywhere. Men and boys everywhere. Too bad south asian men aren’t my type.

Day 1

2007-11-16T00:50:00.000+10:00

We met our local collaborators today: Beenish, Adeel, Wajeehah and Zane. We described how we work and spent some time looking at a map and getting their suggestions as to where we should go to do our research.

We also checked out the venue and met our hosts, the twins Faisaan and Salman. They were very generous with their time, helping us figure out where to do research, helping us find some kids to interview and offering caution but not attempting to limit what we're trying to do. Very accommodating. There was an area where a couple of our local collaborators and Faisal felt we shouldn't go - a place populated with very religious people. Wajeehah thought it was ok and insists the people are misunderstood. But the deal is if anyone is against going to an area then we won't go - we don't want people to be scared.

The theatre is nice - intimate but still substantial.

Met a young electrical engineer named Naeem who thought evolution was an incorrect and ridiculous theory. The usual argument: intelligent design. It was fun to half-listen to him and Rebecca discuss this but further cemented our commitment to avoid talking about religion. Not because it's some dangerous topic but because it's soooo boring. And by that I mean, general, speculative, not at all specific or personal. No matter how personal someone's beliefs are, they are still merely beliefs and not deeds, actions, or incidents and therefore not well-suited for performance.

Naeem insisted on God's transcendence. Immanence is my bottom line for talking about God, if you can't locate him in a piece of poo, then I'm not going to even consider starting a conversation because it's clear that we're going to end up in a tiresome deadlock.

Now struggling to stay awake for a couple of hours to avoid jet lag.

the usge

2007-11-15T23:04:00.001+10:00

My contribution to this blog is entitled "All the girls Darren gets crushes on" or "A photographic study on Darren's staring problem" but then I thought that was too Darren centered and not interesting enough so i'll just add some photos and the usge. here are some from the pod-like abu dhabi airport, jetlag, food in pakistan
-stephanie

In Lahore

2007-11-15T04:45:00.000+10:00

Finally here. It's late and I'm tired.
Lots to talk about. But late.

Turns out that having a big group - or this big group, anyway - doesn't lead to insularity. People have been talking to and meeting people at the airport and on planes and now we've got some people we can contact and interview.

Things are really calm. Nothing to suggest that things aren't exactly how they were last year. One of the guys on the plane who I talked to said that it's aways the same situation, they're just always changing the label.

Questions

2007-11-14T17:37:00.000+10:00

Tested out some new questions for the show on a guy on the flight and, once again, there's the feeling that the questions are dull. But, actually, not even that. But that the depth of religiousity in the region is going to make specificity of responses very tough. It was tough in a secular society, here I think it might be large. When we encoutered very religious people in Toronto things usually ground to a halt because the contours of what they say are so formulaic. Which is what religion is supposed to be, no? A formula for living life well.

I'm interested in getting people's detailed accounts of what heaven and hell are like. In the most banal and quotidian way: what happens on day one in heaven, day two, where do you sit, are there bathrooms, do we have bodies, do we see loved ones, etc. But Imran, the guy I was talking to on the plane, refused to answer even the most basic question, instead talking at great length in a really convaluted way, using analogy constantly. I had no idea what he was talking about most of the time. Or why it was relevant.

I finally stopped him and asked him to answer one simple question: what happens in ones first moment in heaven. He finally got down to it and said: no one knows. It struck me that perhaps my questions were, to him, misguided in some way, that he felt the need to take me down this other track. His certain and confident references to the Koran frustrated me, as they seemed to allow him to stay away from talking about himself. And then I wondered about different culture's conceptions of the self.

I asked him if he had any secrets and he insisted he didn't. Any enemies? None.

I remember this from last year - the inabiltiy to lay my life onto the lives of the people I met in a sort of one-to-one fashion. It was exciting then, but now more challenging since in a couple of weeks we have to have asked some really good questions so we can present a really good show.

Abu Dhabi

2007-11-14T17:33:00.000+10:00

The flight circled for 2 hours over the Abu Dhabi airport to let fog burn off. Very tired. My body thinks it's 2:30. It's morning here. We wait her for 4 hours and then to Lahore.

Talked to a couple of guys on the plane who assured me that it's life as usual for Pakistan.

I realized that I'm going to have to make more of an effort to meet people. The tendency to hang out with the others on the tour is strong. I recall the conversation I had with the Canadian soldier last year. This year I was sitting beside Natalie, we had some good times but didn't cover any new ground.

email to the consulate in Lahore

2007-11-13T21:24:00.000+10:00

1/2 hour before I go to the airport. This is what I wrote to the consulate in Lahore:

Hello,

I am a the artistic director of theatre company Mammalian Diving Reflex and am coming to participate in the World Performing Arts Festival. The company intends to keep a blog about our experience. I am wondering if this is wise. Does the ban on media extend to forums such as this? Etc. Thanks for your time, I would appreciate any insights you might have about this.

Thanks.

Coffee and Lawyers

2007-11-13T12:30:00.000+10:00

I was at the Common Cafe this morning talking about going to Pakistan when a guy chimed in that Bhutto was the one responsible for the attack on her motorcade. He introduced himself as Rocco Gallati, a great lawyer who is married to an acquaintance of mine and talked about his involvement defending individuals accused of terrorism. Read about it here.

He talked about the various leaders of Pakistan, evaluating their intentions and their use to the US. But I'm honestly not sure if I should be mentioning this here. Media has been banned in Pakistan. Is this media?

Am I even going to be able to access this site. Last year I was able to post things to blogger but the actual blog itself seemed to be blocked. I was unable to view the blog anywhere in Pakistan. But I was able to post. Who knows what the situation will be now.
And who knows what's permissible. I've promised everyone that I'll be careful but where does careful leak into paranoid.

The cab driver who brought me from the airport yesterday into Toronto asked me if Parkdale was a dangerous neighborhood. Of course, for me, it's not. And the question always seems funny. But people often ask it. So is Pakistan an analogous fear. Fasial is not afraid, so why should I be?

leaving tomorrow

2007-11-13T02:34:00.000+10:00

We're off tomorrow. Faisal is already there. He assures us that everything is okay. For now. The show must go on.