Public Eye: Afghan musicians seek freedom

Gul Jan Sadiq sits in a small room of a multi-storey building in Peshawar city, trying to rehearse his new song in the Pushto language as his young colleague tries to master the Rubab, a traditional musical instrument similar to the guitar.

Sadiq is a well-known Afghan folk singer and is now preparing to perform in Jalalabad at a concert.

"This is like a dream come true. I have always wished to perform in front of my own people, in my motherland," the 28-year-old Sadiq says. "I dreamt about it and it has become a reality."

Sadiq has been living in Peshawar in exile for the last 10 years, since the extremist Taliban regime imposed a ban on music, dubbing it "un-Islamic".

He, along with his family, had to flee after Taliban's vice and virtue squad had started searching door to door in Jalalabad, punishing anybody who was known as an artist - be he a musician, a singer or a painter.

When he fled Afghanistan, the only thing he brought with him was his flute. "I could give my body but not my soul, so I left Afghanistan," he says.

Like Sadiq there are hundreds of Afghan musicians who fled their country and settled in Peshawar to quench their thirst for music.

Every evening, Sadiq practises new tunes and songs with his group in a small room, which boasts a tattered sign on the wall, "Afghan Music Club."

In this building, exiled musicians have established their music clubs in small, congested rooms in a bid to rekindle the Afghan music tradition.

These Afghan musicians earn their lives by performing in Peshawar and training young and talented music lovers at these clubs. The ousting of the Taliban regime last year brought good news for these musicians who finally saw a ray of hope that they now could return to their country and perform.

Gul Jan Sadiq was initially cautious, fearing a bloody aftermath in Afghanistan - a land which witnessed 23 years of bloodbaths and savage fighting between warring factions.

But since his friend Zar Wali Khan returned to Peshawar after performing in Kabul, Sadiq could not wait any longer and has accepted an invitation for a concert in Jalalabad.

"Zar Wali told me how people greeted him, garlanded him. He went there for two days but people did not let him leave for two weeks," Sadiq says. "It is like a fairy tale. I dream of having a similar reception in my own land."

Other Afghan musicians are happy but are still reluctant to move back to Afghanistan, adopting a wait-and-see policy. "I am glad that Afghan musicians have started performing in their own country, but I still feel the danger. I have seen the death and destruction and cannot forget the treatment by extremists," Zar Wali says.

"There is still violence in some parts. Hamid Karzai (president of Afghanistan) seems to be a good person but he is helpless. He is still dependent on foreign forces for his own security. How he could provide security to us?"

"The scars are too deep and they will not fade away soon. We cannot pack our bags and start a new life again in Afghanistan. It is not easy and it is going to take some time," Zar Wali says.

But once again, Afghan musicians are seemingly in a fix after an alliance of pro-Taliban forces, the Muttahida Majlis-e-Amal (MMA), emerged as a powerful political force after the October 10 elections in Pakistan. The MMA has now been able to form the government in the North-West Frontier Province (NWFP).

The new chief minister of the NWFP, Akram Durrani, has announced a partial ban on music in public transport in the province, besides announcing other strict steps in an effort to present the province as a model for what MMA perceives as an Islamic country.

"It is worrisome. We are all getting bad vibes and pray that the MMA do not try to adopt policies of the Taliban. We have suffered too much at the hands of the Taliban," Zar Wali says.

"They can punish their enemies, but music and artists should not suffer. Music is an identity of any civilised and cultured nation," Gul Jan Sadiq says.

He will soon be on his way to his native Afghanistan, seeking his lost identity as an Afghan musician. But he remains uncertain of what he may find at home and wants to come back to Peshawar, the city where he along with his colleagues have until now found some measure of artistic freedom for the past 10 years.

But shadows of doubt now loom over their refuge as well. And once again, they have been plunged into a search between two countries where their souls can soar as high as the chords their instruments strike.