Rolling out the differences

Wrapped up against the cold, eye squinting through the fine layer of dust that coats his face and surroundings, a boy weaves in and out of crumbling archways on his skateboard. Behind him a trail of other boys follow in pursuit. The backdrop is not the skyscrapers of a major city or the graphitised walls of an urban skate park but the Hindu Kush mountains and the destination is an empty swimming pool which was used during the Taliban period for executions.

The urban sport that populates empty parking areas, staircases and squares around the world has now found a new playground in Kabul. Skateistan is the organisation that has brought it there.

SKATEISTAN: TO LIVE AND SKATE KABUL from Diesel New Voices on Vimeo.

When Oliver Percovich arrived in Kabul, he had no idea how much his life and perception of the war-torn city would be transformed by a hobby. He arrived following his girlfriend who had been offered a job. While she was working, Percovich would spend his days skateboarding around the city, exploring the area and job-hunting. It was on his rounds that he noticed the curiosity that he was creating among the local residents.

"I've skateboarded in lots of countries around the world and have never had such a positive response. I was just skateboarding by myself on the streets and I found a lot of children who expressed interest in trying it. In most places you're chased away by the local policemen, but here they want to have a go at it," Percovich says.

He found himself becoming increasingly occupied with showing curious children how to use the board and as he began to get to know the city and its people more intimately, Percovich saw the possibility of turning this pastime into something more.

 "I don't think it has that much to do with skateboarding at all. This is an opportunity for children to do something outside their not-very-exciting lives. In a country where a huge percentage of the population is under 16 and about 70 per cent are under 25, why isn't more effort made to engage children? Why aren't we investing in them in Kabul?" Percovich asks.

After a short stint in his native Australia, Percovich came back to Kabul with a handful of second-hand skateboards to get the project up and running. In the beginning, lessons were conducted on the streets, making do with the war-torn landscape of Kabul, using empty swimming pools and dried-up fountains as carving bowls.

As interest and funding in the project grew, Percovich set out to build an indoor skating facility, which took them the better part of 2008 and 2009. The result was the third-largest indoor sports facility in the country. Now with full facilities in place, the indoor school teaches board slides and ollies [a trick that involves jumping in the air while remaining on the skateboard] to more than 300 children.

"We had pretty much full capacity right from the day we opened. Our initial aim was to have 360 students between the ages of 5 and 17, with boys and girls in equal numbers. We now have 315 regular students with many other children stopping by. It has proved to be incredibly popular," Percovich says.

In a country segregated by gender, age, wealth and ethnicity, Percovich says involving children in these skating activities is a rare opportunity for them to be active and to interact with others. Girls in particular are enjoying the opportunity to learn a new sport away from the social constraints imposed on them by the community.

Percovich cites an incident when one of the girls was beaten up by her older brother for playing with children from poorer families. But within the skate park, strong friendships have grown across what would normally be impossible boundaries. "From the age of 12, girls and boys are separated. You're not supposed to be associated with someone of the opposite sex unless you get married. We offer separate days for boys and girls and classes where girls are taught by female teachers. Girls have very little opportunity to indulge in activities such as this because they're seen as male activities," Percovich says.

High dropout rates

These social constraints are also the reason why the school sees students drop out, says Percovich. "In a lot of cases when a girl drops out, it's an older brother or the father who doesn't think it's appropriate for a girl to be indulging in sports. We have a support officer who tries to get in touch with the family and in some cases we manage to convince them to let their daughters come back."

In other cases, the high rate of poverty is what pulls them out. According to Percovich, many of the children are the main breadwinners of the family from the age of 8. In some cases, their parents are drug addicts who see any hours not spent working as less income for the family. With every child that drops out, Percovich says, they try to find out as much about the situation as they can and try talking to the parents or the family directly.

Working within the framework of Afghan society, Skateistan uses local community leaders to get the message across.

"In many cases, it's not the family. The source of the disapproval could stem from a rumour in the block that there are girls practising a sport that is not appropriate. All of a sudden, the family gets scared and the girls stop coming to classes because they don't want to be different," Percovich says.

The community leader will spread the concept of Skateistan among their neighbours, winning support from within. Through this internal networking, Skateistan has been lucky enough to win the support of the local community, more so than other international NGOs based in the city.

Skateistan also employs many Afghan volunteers and encourages older students in the skateboarding school to become teachers themselves. Percovich's role as an adviser to the Olympic Committee allows him to work more closely with the city's residents.

"In a way, I'm doing the whole project under its wings and because of that, we're perceived as an Afghan project. I think the other reason is that they can see the results as much as we can — happy, smiling children. It's a fairly complex situation but it's very important to work closely with the children to find out where they're coming from for the programme to run."

Along with skateboarding lessons, the students at Skateistan also regularly attend classes held by the organisation which cover a variety of subjects — from IT and multimedia to English and the teachings of the Quran. Respecting Islamic culture, girls' sessions are held separately. Percovich says they do not aim to replace regular schooling but hope to encourage interest in subjects that may not be part of their usual curriculum.

Developing a voice

The complex includes two classrooms equipped with computers and internet access, separate locker rooms for boys and girls, a cafeteria and an office space. "It's about them developing a voice for themselves and learning about something they find interesting," Percovich says.

Skateistan also organises international video exchanges where the children can chat with those from schools across the world. "It's extremely important to allow them to develop their own ideas about the rest of the world and develop links across different backgrounds," Percovich says.

A feature-length documentary on the NGO is due to be released next month, with hopes of raising awareness. They have also been contacted by people all over the world to introduce the concept elsewhere. So while their budget remains minimal, they will perfect the formula in Afghanistan before taking the board elsewhere.

From a jobseeker to a facilitator of sports and education, Percovich has come a long way since he arrived in Kabul.

Having gained the support of both the international and local communities, he seems in it for the long term and is looking to continue with his work to engage more children through sports and education — not only in Kabul but in cities further north as well.

"Through skateboarding, I found a loophole in the system. I'm able to engage the youth and both men and women across Kabul's society," Percovich says.