A Fort of Nine Towers:
An Afghan Family Story by Qais Akbar Omar and Shakespeare in Kabul by Stephen Landrigan and Qais Akbar Omar are
part memoir, part history. (Helpful hint: the author bio states that “Qais” is
pronounced “Kice.”) In A Fort of Nine
Towers, Omar tells the story of the years from the Russians departure and
subsequent factional fighting through the rise and fall of the Taliban. Some of
the strongest depictions are of life before the Soviets left; while Qais was
only seven at the time, he vividly describes his grandfather’s house with its
orchards, servants, warehouses filled with carpets, daily outdoor banquets as
regular meals for an extended family of more than fifty, and ramparts suitable
for kite-flying competitions. Equally memorable are some harrowing encountering
during the early years of factional fighting; with the family scattered
(eventually retreating to a wealthy friend’s property, Qala-e-Noborja, the
titular fort), young Qais and his father must brave the city streets,
encountering brutal soldiers who style themselves as mujahideen while they
torture, dismember, rape, and wage a mercenary war for neighborhood turf.
While the later
stages of the family’s journey have fewer thrills and seem less likely to be representative
of typical Afghani experience (even typical wealthy Pashtun experience), Omar’s
story remains absorbing. Travelling now with just his parents, sisters, and
infant brother, mostly in the sometimes unreliable family car, Qais’ adventures
include raiding pomegranates from a walled garden at night, camping in the
caves behind the historic Bamayan Buddhas, learning carpetmaking from an
alluring deafmute, and traveling with a Kuchi nomad camel caravan.
Throughout,
Qais presents himself as clever but deep, resourceful, hard working, and (with
undoubted truth) quick with languages. Qais paints himself as more in tune than
his peers with the Afghan verse and traditions, but still surrounded by Afghan
youth and adults who take their codes of honor, their poetry, and (perhaps more
problematically) their religion seriously. He walks the line of presenting
Afghan culture and history as appealingly exotic and as a serious, meaningful
part of daily life. There’s a dash of hyperbole, an exuberant optimism through
which sometimes shows profoundly observed darkness that reminds me of Twain. The
story is more than a picaresque; Qais and family encounter real danger and
tragedy. By the time the family finds itself back in Kabul (the book includes
helpful maps of Kabul, Afghanistan, and its neighbors), Qais is college-aged
and positioned to take on an adult’s decision-making burden. The book’s final
section ranges from a Taliban prison to an entrepeneurial backroom carpet
factory to streets full of joyful dancing as the Taliban is ousted and music
once more allowed. In A Fort with Nine
Towers, Qais Akbar Omar tells an important and compelling story with a poet’s
power and sensitivity.
The most interesting
section of the book is the middle, “Climax,” written by Qais, who served as
translator and assistant director for the production. It describes the
auditions, the histories and personalities of the actors, the conflicts between
actors and between some actors and Corinne, the search for costumes and props, the
challenges of balancing day jobs in a rebuilding city with demanding evening rehearsals,
and the struggles to understand not just the archaisms of language but
Shakespeare’s concept of inspirational romantic love. Qais has a gift for
conveying the various players’ perspectives (including Corinne’s, though she is
perhaps portrayed a little harshly despite a cumulatively positive depiction). Highlights
include the casts’ teatime discussions and their reaction to the scene where
the play’s .
The third and
final section, “Resolution,” is co-written by Landrigan and Omar and describes
the performances, including in the Queen’s Palace of Kabul’s Bagh-e-Babur and
later on-the-road performances in northern Afghan cities. It describes audience
reactions and chronicles the logistics and cast changes necessitated by the
later performances. There are ominous hints in the beginning of the book that
the project may not have turned out as planned but, though less well received
than in the capital, Love’s Labour’s Lost
incites no riots in Mazar-e-Sharif or Herat. I won’t give too much away about
audience reactions, though I will note the sometimes melancholy tone that seems
due to a 2012 Afghanistan not living up to 2005 hopes (civic and political as
much or more than cultural). Shakespeare
in Kabul brushes on history, but is truly notable for how it engages deeply
with the idea of theatre, a cultural conversation between east and west, and
the details of how and whether a specific Shakespeare comedy remains relevant
to a specific modern nation in conflict.
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