Musicians Who Fled to Portugal

A stone’s throw from Portugal’s oldest cathedral and bustling bakeries serving pastéis de nata, the complex notes of a sitar fill the ground floor of an unassuming building in Braga.

The soft strumming belies the radical nature of the mission that has taken root here: to preserve Afghan music and use it to counter those who seek its eradication.

“The Taliban tried to silence us,” said Ahmad Sarmast, the director of the Afghanistan National Institute of Music, from his new office in Braga. “But we’re much stronger and much louder than yesterday.”

Launched in 2010 under the US-backed government in Kabul, the institute once stood as a powerful sign of the changes sweeping Afghanistan. Young male and female musicians – many from poor backgrounds – performed together in ensembles ranging from a national symphony orchestra to Zohra, the country’s first all-female orchestra.

They toured the world, offering a unique blend of Afghan and Western music, reclaiming their country’s music traditions, and directly challenging the years of silence enforced by the Taliban. “It was a symbol of progress, human rights, and women’s empowerment,” Sarmast said.

The institute’s future, however, and that of its young musicians, dimmed in August 2021 as the Taliban returned to power.

Ramiz Safa, 20, was in a shop in Kabul, waiting for his rubab – an Afghan stringed instrument – to be repaired when the news broke that the Taliban were back. “Everyone was running. Someone came to us and said: ‘You have to get away, because this is a music shop,’” he recalled. “I took my rubab and I ran.”

Upon returning home, he hid his instruments. Shortly after, he took further precautions, going to a barber shop to change his appearance as much as possible. “It was really scary,” he said.

Sarmast was on holiday in Australia when the Taliban returned. From 6,000 miles (9,500 km) away, he scrambled to figure out how best to protect the 280 or so people affiliated with the institute.

“Our school was at the top of the Taliban’s hit list,” he said. The institute had been targeted by the Taliban for years, including a 2014 concert where a bomb killed one person and left Sarmast badly injured.

Fearing little chance the musicians and staff would be spared, Sarmast worked in tandem with the US-based foundation that supports the institute. He contacted everyone he could think of, pleading with politicians and heads of state for help.

Only one country responded immediately: Portugal, setting off a months-long struggle that eventually allowed 273 people, including musicians, instructors, and staff, to make the 4,000-mile journey to Western Europe.

They arrived during the COVID-19 pandemic, forcing Portuguese officials to impose restrictions and confinements as they worked through the logistics of settling the large group. “They did everything to receive us warmly,” Sarmast said.

The young musicians, most evacuated without their families, struggled with homesickness and culture shock as Portuguese courts wrestled with how best to handle the unaccompanied minors.

“At first it was really hard,” said Farida Ahmadi, 15. “New culture, new home, new language.” For her, Lisbon seemed large and confusing, and learning Portuguese was a daunting task.

As plans to house them temporarily in a Lisbon military hospital stretched to eight months, morale plummeted, Sarmast said. “The kids were extremely disappointed, frustrated, facing cultural conflicts and the trauma of being separated from their families.”

Many were haunted by what they had left behind. “Every night I had dreams about the Taliban,” Safa said. “Now, day by day, it’s getting better.”

Several musicians and staff decided to leave, seeking better opportunities in places like Germany, or to reunite with extended family.

Due to the lack of accommodation and high cost of living in Lisbon, Portuguese courts decided the group should move to northern Portugal, Sarmast explained.

About 70 musicians and staff now live in Braga, Portugal’s third-largest city. The unaccompanied minors are in the care of two institutions and attend local schools, while those aged over 18 attend classes at the music conservatory. Weekends are spent at the conservatory, honing the institute’s various ensembles.

On a Thursday evening this spring, a dozen or so students gathered in rented rooms, practicing the sitar and rubab, studying music theory, and – during breaks – talking about Ed Sheeran’s music or finishing homework.

More than two years after arriving, Farida said she had become accustomed to the sights, sounds, and smells of Portugal and could speak the language. “Now we are progressing,” she said. “And it’s something really amazing for us.”

Even more exciting is what lies ahead: last year, the institute obtained approval from the Portuguese government for the families of the musicians to join them. Although a timeline has yet to be set, it’s a tantalizing possibility after years of separation. “We are waiting for that,” Sarmast said. “All the kids will be reunited with their families.”

In August, the students will perform at Carnegie Hall in New York, and the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC. The mention brings a bittersweet smile to Sarmast’s face as he notes that the last time they performed in those halls was in 2013, heralding an Afghanistan filled with hope, freedom, and women’s rights.

“This time I’m going there with a different message,” he said. “To let the world know what’s happening in Afghanistan and to call on the international community to ensure the Taliban are not recognized.”

Since the Taliban regained power, Afghanistan has deteriorated into what Sarmast described as a “gender apartheid,” with women’s access to education, work, and public spaces steadily curtailed. Earlier this year, the Taliban announced it would resume publicly stoning women to death.

Many of the country’s musicians and artists have fled, while those who remain live in terror. “Afghanistan is a totally silent nation,” Sarmast said. “Today, learning music is a crime. Playing music is a crime. Listening to music is a crime.”

The crackdown has amplified the importance of the institute and turned Braga into one of the few places in the world where Afghanistan’s rich musical history is being preserved. “If the Taliban remains in power long enough, within five, ten years, many of these musical traditions will be lost because Afghan music is an oral tradition,” Sarmast said.

The situation has lent new importance to the institute’s performances around the world. “So now these kids are not just playing music,” he said. “They’re serving as the voices of the Afghan people.”

Source: The Guardian