Kabul Goes Pop: Music Television Afghanistan (NHB Modern Plays)

Waleed Akhtar

• Editorial: Nick Hern Books
• Año: 2022
• ISBN:
  9781788505918
• Categoría: Literature
• Categoría: British Drama

Afghanistan. It's 2004. Farook and Samia broadcast live every day to the whole of Kabul, delivering ninety minutes of musical bliss: Britney, Backstreet Boys and Enrique Iglesias. But when their show starts to make waves, the two young friends must take on repressive forces to build a new Afghanistan.

Inspired by the true story of Afghanistan's first youth music programme, Waleed Akhtar's play Kabul Goes Pop: Music Television Afghanistan explores a world following the US invasion that is complex, contradictory and shocking – all to a soundtrack of early noughties' pop.

The play premiered at Brixton House, London, in 2022, directed by Anna Himali Howard, before touring the UK. It was presented with HighTide, in association with Mercury Theatre Colchester.

The stage is dark. The on-air sign comes on.

An over-the-top theatrical intro skit to the TV programme.

SAMIA. Where am I? Am I dead or alive? I can’t see anything.

FAROOK. Don’t worry, child.

SAMIA. Who’s that? Are you an angel?

FAROOK. Yes.

SAMIA. But they all said I’d go straight to hell.

FAROOK. What do they know?

SAMIA. What kind of angel are you?

A light shines on FAROOK.

FAROOK. I’m glad you asked, I’m a POP angel.

SAMIA. Oh wow. We’re all in pop heaven?

FAROOK. Yes! Yes, you are… and it’s called VOX! The greatest hits show.

A light shines on SAMIA.

SAMIA. And what can we expect of this greatest hits show?

The bright studio lights come on and we’re in full show mode.

FAROOK. It’s going to be an hour and a half of musical bliss… as we give you all the latest from Hollywood to Bollywood, to Persian pop, you name it we got it and we don’t stop. And the one thing they all want… me, VJ Farook, with the chat and the charts, and the looks that melt hearts. It’s time for VOX!!

Off-air:

SAMIA. Greatest hits shows are lame… where they just play you crappy clips from the past. No one really wants to watch a glorified rerun.

FAROOK. This is different, it’ll be more like making the band. Our story.

SAMIA. Okay I’m down with that. So we need to intro me!

FAROOK. No you come later. We actually need to start at the very beginning. Tell it all.

SAMIA. Your beginning.

FAROOK. Well, the story starts with me.

SAMIA. Convenient. So what do I do?

FAROOK. I don’t know, watch?

SAMIA. Typical, some things don’t change, hogging all the limelight.

FAROOK. That’s not fair. Well, not this time at least.

SAMIA. Get on with it then.

FAROOK. You can introduce it if you like?

SAMIA. Gee thanks!

(Grandiose.) Let me take you back to a different time, and to a different place…

FAROOK. Now who’s milking it? Just the short version.

SAMIA. FINE! Kabul. Afghanistan. 2004. The Audition.

SAMIA takes a back seat while FAROOK speaks.

FAROOK. ‘Farook Issar, my name should be on the list.’

I know it’s not, but I’m making the guy look regardless.

Now for my speciality –

SAMIA/FAROOK (overly dramatic). ‘I spoke to someone on the phone yesterday, he said that I would be put on the list. Unbelievable.’

This is a lie.

The man on the phone yesterday had expressly told me that there was no room at the audition. But this guy doesn’t know that, and anyway it’s Kabul… organisation is no one’s strong point.

Now for the charm – (He smiles.)

‘Can you please squeeze me in?’

It works. It actually works.

SAMIA. I can’t believe it.

FAROOK. Neither can I.

Number thirty-three! Step one accomplished. You want something, you go for it, and I want this so bad! To be a presenter on TV. I take a seat and look at the ‘competition’.

Number twenty-nine gets up and walks into the studio. He’s definitely in his dad’s wedding suit from the seventies.

I’m wearing white, all white, white shoes, white shirt, white trousers, white underpants!

la ilaha illa muhammadur rasulullah, la ilaha illa muhammadur rasulullah

I am just going to pray over and over in my head to calm myself down.

la ilaha illa muhammadur rasulullah

They’re all so old, like twenty-eight.

la ilaha illa muhammadur rasulullah

It’s a sea of bad suits and beards.

I am definitely better looking than all of them.

la ilaha illa muhammadur rasulullah

Thirty-one comes out of the studio, it says ‘Dolce and Gabner’ on his shirt.

Why is he smiling so much? If I had his teeth I wouldn’t.

He boasts to Mr Thirty-two, that he’s read from an autocue before, so it was really easy.

What the hell is an autocue?

SAMIA. You didn’t know what an autocue is?

FAROOK. No.

SAMIA. How much research did you do for this audition?

FAROOK. You either have star quality or you don’t… you can’t research that.

SAMIA. I spent a whole two weeks prepping mine.

FAROOK. You would. Anyway it doesn’t matter. I have a face for TV. Plus I’ve done radio before, and instead of talking to a microphone it’s talking to a camera. What could be easier.

SAMIA. ‘Thirty-three.’

FAROOK. My number and I go in. Into the studio…

la ilaha illa muhammadur rasulullah

It’s not that impressive, basically one giant metal container. Not what I was expecting at all. On the other end of the container there are three of them.

Asif the producer, and owner of this studio, who I spoke to yesterday on the phone.

SAMIA. Our Asif? Man-baby Asif?

FAROOK. Yes, our Asif.

SAMIA. We would call him Man-baby Asif, he looked like a grown-up toddler.

FAROOK. And he would waddle around like one. Giving orders.

SAMIA/ASIF. ‘You need to pay attention to what I’m saying.’

FAROOK/ASIF. ‘God has given you ears, and big ones, so you should use them.’

SAMIA. No one ever listened to him. And boy would he get frustrated, short-man syndrome. He was even shorter than me.

FAROOK. No he wasn’t, you like to think you’re taller than you are.

SAMIA. No, people just think that because I have presence, people notice when I walk into a room.

FAROOK. Yeah, they notice but for other reasons… Anyway, we’re not doing you yet.

SAMIA. Hurry up –

FAROOK. Asif is dressed, casual? In Western. Beige socks with bata sandals…

SAMIA. Are you going to describe his underwear as well?

FAROOK. Definitely stained.

SAMIA. Okay that was funny. But get a move on!

FAROOK. Basically Asif’s outfit is bad… But at least it’s Western, so that’s progress.

I’m in the room and Asif knows I’m not supposed to be here, in the audition. But doesn’t say anything. Thank god.

Two men are sat next to him, I can sense they are the ones I need to impress. Both round, both middle-aged, but well groomed, returned from the West now the Taliban has fallen. The executives of the station.

‘Assalamualaikum.’

They nod mechanically.

And then I’m ordered by Asif to speak into the camera.

la ilaha illa muhammadur rasulullah

‘My name is Farook and I’m twenty-two years of age.’

So far so good.

The bigger of the two men speaks, he’s Mr Khalid Hamidi, the owner of the station. He asks me to tell him about myself. So I launch into my favourite subject. ME.

‘I’ve lived in Kabul for most of my life. I work for Rise Radio, and for the last six months I’ve been presenting a show at night. With music, chat, news, reviews, interviews. Very popular show. Everyone is saying how super-cool it is.

I like Western pop the best, Britney, Backstreet Boys, NSYNC. Everyone says I’m Enrique Iglesias’s Afghan twin.’

SAMIA. No one says that.

FAROOK (ignoring her). ‘I also like to discover new bands, like Westlife, who I think are from the UK? Their song “Flying Without Wings”, so beautiful.

Fla...