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root salad Dr. Ahmad Sarmast


There are safer jobs than teaching music to women in Afghanistan. Cara Gibney meets a hero.


we invest in arts, culture, and the educa- tion of a nation… I returned to Afghanistan with these beliefs – that despite all of the challenges we face, if you want to have a bright Afghanistan for the future children of this nation we must invest in arts and culture, and we have to be ready to sacrifice for discourse.”


“I


They’re fine words. Rousing words. But let me introduce you to the man who said them. Dr. Ahmad Sarmast, founder of the Afghanistan National Institute of Music (ANIM) in Kabul, which asserts in its mission statement: “We focus especially on support- ing the most disadvantaged children in Afghanistan – orphans, street-working ven- dors and girls.”


It’s been long, hard, dangerous work developing a music institute in Kabul that focuses on ‘orphans, street-working vendors and girls,’ and the struggle isn’t over. Ahmad Sarmast left Afghanistan in the 1990s, seeking asylum in Australia from the relentless Afghan civil war. During his years away from home he pursued a music educa- tion that would develop skills and knowl- edge essential for the years ahead, ulti- mately becoming the first Afghan national to obtain a PhD in music.


He returned to Afghanistan in 2008, after the defeat of the Taliban. He returned to a land “where music was banned for many years… Six years of Afghanistan being under the leadership of one of the darkest forces of today… A time when the Taliban managed to brainwash practically a genera- tion. It left a very negative impact on the social fabric of Afghanistan as well as the cultural fabric of this country.”


The Afghanistan that Ahmad Sarmast returned to was very different from the land of his youth. “I grew up in a very sophisticated capital, Kabul,” he recalled. “I was very privileged as a young man to live in a society where a music education was possible; there was no restriction or censor- ship.” His father was the celebrated com- poser, songwriter, musician and conductor Ustad Sarmast, and Ahmad told me of growing up “in a family surrounded by the leading lights of Afghan music. They would be regular guests of my father and would often practise in our house.”


But life had not always been so bright for Ustad Sarmast, whose own father, (Ahmad’s grandfather) had died when


Ahmad Sarmas with Zohra


Ustad was very young. “My grandmother was deprived of everything after the death of her husband,” Ahmad explained. She was left with no choice but to enrol her son in an orphanage as this was the only way he would receive an education. This desperate act, however, did pay off as the young Ustad went on to gain an education, attend music school, and ultimately became a hugely important musical figure in Afghan culture.


This is an ongoing inspiration for Ahmad Sarmast, to “create an opportunity for disadvantaged kids in Afghanistan to benefit in the same way that my father ben- efited from music.” Indeed, the Afghanistan National Institute of Music (ANIM) reserves 50% of its places for girls and disadvantaged children, with a monthly stipend to support the poorer children with their studies.


ANIM opened its doors in 2010, and


now offers a core academic syllabus includ- ing maths, languages and social sciences. It offers studies in Afghan music, Western music, winter music academies, and various ensembles including Zohra – “the first-ever all-female ensemble in the history of Afghanistan.”


It is a commitment of ANIM, and a per- sonal issue for Sarmast, to ensure “gender equality in our music programme.” The com- mitment is working. ANIM started with one female student. “Today one-third of the school community are girls” and Sarmast expects more females in the new academic year. Zohra and ANIM are gaining high-level


international attention, touring globally, but we need to remember that this takes courage. As their website states: “Back home, a performance by Zohra may be met with abuse or threats – or even bombs.”


I


n December 2014, Ahmad Sarmast was wounded in a Taliban suicide attack which perforated both eardrums and left shrapnel in the back of his head. The Taliban later released a statement that he was corrupting Afghanistan’s youth and therefore promised “to continue and attack the Music Institute.” He still suffers PTSD as a result. “I’m good,” he told me when I asked how he was. “I’m still from time to time suffering from anxiety and the mental trau- ma of this attack, but generally I’m in very good health and full of energy. And the students are full of energy and very com- mitted to work.”


Ahmad Sarmast and his beloved ANIM continue to face security threats. They endure the bureaucracy and delays that inhibit progress. But not one student with- drew from ANIM after that attack, and numbers continue to grow. Soon he will be launching their international fundraiser to complete their brand-new concert hall, and he continues to search for skilled interna- tional volunteers to teach in the school. “I am not ready to give up,” he told me; his voice was matter-of-fact. “We stand against them by the beauty of music.”


www.anim-music.org F


’m a strong believer in the soft power of arts and culture, and I believe that it’s impossible to bring long-lasting peace unless


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