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'Afghan Star' popularity leads to cultural strains
The four singers on the Afghan version of American Idol stood nervously on stage, waiting to hear who lost. Lima Sahar was the only woman, the only singer from the conservative Pashtun ethnic group in southern Afghanistan - the stronghold of Taliban-led insurgents - and she had faced worse in her life. In her home of Kandahar, she wore a blue burqa whenever she left her house. But on stage, she wore blue glitter on her hair, a matching head scarf and fake eyelashes. "Who is the person who should stay with us?" host Daoud Sediqi asked the audience, who shouted against Sahar. Sediqi paused, dramatically holding back the judges' decision. "I can tell you this time, something strange has happened."In many ways, Afghanistan seems stuck, unable to defeat militants or drugs or figure out how to appoint qualified police chiefs. Radicals stage spectacular suicide attacks on government and Western targets, more than six years after a U.S.-led coalition forced the Taliban to flee for sheltering al-Qaida leader Osama bin Laden. Yet for many young people, the TV show Afghan Star points a way forward, to a better future of peace and song, and for them, Sahar represents hope. She is the story of the country's tragedies - she was kept at home during the Taliban years, and although she is 18, she is only in eighth grade. She cannot speak one of the country's two main languages, Dari, very well, and when she is in Kandahar, she has to completely cover her face and head when outside her home, like most other women. "If I speak honestly, I don't like her voice or her song," said Lima Ahmed, 24, an audience member who is also a Pashtun woman from Kandahar. "But I like her courage, and I want to support her." On stage, waiting for the judges' verdict, Sahar held her elbows in front of her chest and stared straight ahead. When the vote came in, she had overcome the biased audience's preference and made it to the final three, although that was as far as she would go. On Friday night's episode, Sahar was voted out. "I am very happy to have come in third place," she said on the show. "This is an honor for me that the people voted for me. I really thank them and I also congratulate them." Sahar was the first woman to make it to the top three in Afghan Star, now in its third season, and the first Pashtun, an ethnic group that traditionally keeps women at home or requires them to wear the all-encompassing burqas. Kandahar is considered the birthplace of the Taliban, which banned music and TV until being driven from power in late 2001. Sahar and Afghan Star also highlight a cultural fault line in Afghanistan between West and East, modern and conservative. As some young people push more toward the West, switching out traditional tunics and beards for jeans and hair gel, many have rebelled, calling such behavior un-Islamic and anti-Afghan. In January, the influential national council of clerics asked President Hamid Karzai to clamp down on the country's TV industry, mentioning Afghan Star as an example of immorality. A warlord has tried to remove Tolo TV, which carries the singing show and other such entertainment, from his province. "It's completely rejected by Islam," said Sayed-ur-Rahman Niazi, the cleric at Kabul's central mosque, which attracts 50,000 worshipers during weekly Friday prayers. "Someone who goes to listen to music is guilty of adultery. It's the same thing. And someone who enjoys it should be kicked out of Islam. He's no longer a Muslim." Just trying out for Afghan Star could be seen as an act of defiance, a political statement in song. Sediqi, the host, said he knew that clerics spoke against his show during Friday prayers. The show is similar to American Idol but with an Afghan twist. It is filmed in the Afghan Markopolo Wedding Hall, which resembles a layered peach-and-cream wedding cake with mirrored icing, in front of a live audience of about 300 people. There are flashing white lights, pumping music, and then Sediqi runs out on stage, announcing, "In the name of God - hello." The singers barely move, and most of the men wear ties and suit jackets or fake leather ones. They sing traditional Afghan songs with flowery poetry, such as, "Can I pick the flowers of rain from your beautiful hair?" The judges are honest, but kind, telling poor contestants that they have to try harder next time. There is no Simon Cowell here - all the judges sound nice like Paula Abdul. Still, losing contestants cry. The winner, chosen from 2,000 contestants, will get at least $4,000 and a deal to record an album. Since Afghan Star premiered, it has quickly grown into one of the most popular shows in the country. Even Niazi, the Kabul cleric, acknowledged in an interview that he had watched it. The stars are debated in rural areas - wherever Tolo TV broadcasts - and many stars run campaigns, urging people to vote for them by mobile phone text message. Posted by: ryuge 2008-03-16 |
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