Let me tell you a little something about Afghan music. Back in the day. It was mainly classical and folk tunes, influenced by traditional music from places like India and Persia. It was poetic and romantic. You know what you need to hear it? Can I get some percussion? I'm thinking tabla. Now give me a little down, down, down, down on the rhubarb. Yeah, that's it. Now layer in some harmonium. Ooh,
that's sweet. So music sounded like that for a while, but then this guy came along and he started mixing it up. His name was Akhmad Sayer and he came from a prestigious Afghan family, the son of a prime minister. So music that wasn't supposed to be his career path shoved off, but Akhmad Zahir didn't care. He rocked a pompadour and sideburns. He traveled the world seeking out musicians. He met saxophonists and trumpeters. He learned to play accordion.
He listened to rock and jazz and flamenco, and he started to write songs that were like mad mashups of different genres.
Indian raga and Western pop, folk and rock, jazz and poetry.
He sang in Dari and Pashto and Russian and Urdu and even English, and the more people heard Akmanzayre's music, the more they fell in love. Women with Jane Fonda hairstyles, dangly earrings and mini skirts would shimmy and twist, and he sold out concerts. People would line up outside record stores to hear his latest release. Kabul in the seventies was Akman Zahir's city, and he became known as something else. The sideburns, the leather jacket he transformed into the Afghan elvis.
And then in nineteen seventy nine, on his thirty third birthday, Zahir died. He got into a car crash. Mini and Afghanistan think he was murdered, murdered by the newly installed Soviet backed government who did not appreciate his songs about freedom, his vision of the future. And on this tragic night, instead of fans flooding the street to celebrate their idol's birthday, they marched through the city carrying his body. But Afghans
never stopped listening. Even years later under the Taliban, when music it had been outlawed by the religious police, people would gather together in secret rooms and dance to Akhmad Zahir's music, Dance with their shirts sticking to their bodies, Dance as if the only thing that mattered at that moment was dancing. And although Akhmed Zahir would never know it, he became a beacon, an inspiration to a new generation of Afghans, a spark that lived inside them that could
not be extinguished, however hard the Taliban try. I'm John Legend, I'm from Kaleidoscope, and iHeart podcasts. This is Afghan Stock. Previously Daoud Sidiki is hired to produce a show unlike any Afghanistan has ever seen. It's a nationwide singing competition for Afghans.
I'm so thirsty and so angry and so exhausted that I can't think about anything.
He works day and night to get the show on air, convincing judges to take part and traveling all around the country to audition singers Zindigiicasafer, But he has no idea if the public is ready for something like this, if they'll be outraged or excited. Because it was just a few years ago, making a show like Afghan Star could get you killed. Chapter one Cinema Paradiso.
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Daoud Sidiki, the man who is the host and producer of Afghan Star, sits alone in his home office in America. He often pulls an Akhma Zahir cassette and slots it into the player on his desk models for hours, he just sits and listens and thinks of his old life in Kabble.
By card.
Zitch And.
As a kid, Daoud was obsessed with music and movies. He would spend all day either listening to tapes or glued to the screen.
The vcor was kind of a magical box fermit.
Daoud tore through every record and VHS tape in his family's collection multiple times. But when he wasn't watching or rewatching videos, you could find him at the local cinema. He remembers the short walk from his house, the bustling shops, the neighbors who would wave or get give him a little pat on the back, and he remembers the cinema itself, big windows, heavy curtains, and ice cream shop next door.
It's his favorite place in the world. With his feet barely touching the floor, this is where Daoud would see his first Bollywood movie, Captivated for three straight hours by the colorful saris and plot twists and perfectly choreographed dance numbers, and in years that followed, each time he emerged from that little cinema, he'd been.
I grew up watching lots of Bollywood movies and I loved him. I love Amitabachan movies. I love like Metan Chickut renting movies big stars, and we will talk about it for the entire week, maybe monson, we will buy the music and go and buy the posters and find the clothes and style. And still sometimes I believe like I kind of imagine myself as a Bollywood actor, or I hear it in a movie.
So that's Daoud's cobo. It's Bollywood have sensed. But it isn't just Hindi music that fills his memories. To hear Daoud tell it, afternoons were scored by harmoniums wafting from the playground, kids played drums in the streets. Open shop windows piped the sounds of the Afghan elvis to the delight of passers by. But it isn't long before those magical sounds that Daoud loves so much are replaced.
When the bullets camped. It has a very interesting sounding zip zip zip zip.
By the time Daoud is in his early teens, he's grown accustomed to falling asleep to the sound of bullets being sprayed into the night, the sounds of civil war.
The war was a kind of a jungle low war.
In the nineties, war had broken out between groups of rebel fighters called the Mujahideen.
These are the mujah Hadeen, the fighters of the Jihad, the Muslim Holy War.
They are men of faith of Islam.
The Mujahadeen was made up of regular people who rose up to defend their country against a Soviet invasion.
Of Soviet bloodshed and battle into five minutes ahead of schedule as the Soviet army completed its retreat.
But then the Mujahideen fighters turned on each other.
Early this morning, the airport was shelved.
Throughout the day, heavy artillery thundered in the hills around Kabo, and the streets descended into a battlefield.
Kobl was not a safe place to live. You will be killed very easily. Just someone will come and should you.
Some shops have reopened today, however, most people are staying off the streets, saying it's still too dangerous to leave home.
Even that is risky.
Many rockets are landing in residential neighborhoods.
Families across Kable were terrified. They couldn't lead their homes for fear of getting caught in the crossfire. So anyone with means moved to a different part of the city, trying to outrun the fighting. But as Daoud's family quickly discovered, the war was always right behind them them.
No one is talking. There's no conversation that house. Even the kids were quite. Everyone was quite. This quietness was kind of a hardest time of my life.
The days are long, no one really talks. Plus there's nothing more to talk about. A silence fills the house. Thou doesn't have much to keep him occupied, so most days he sits by a small window in the attic alone. From the right angle, he can just about see into his favorite cinema, the chairs, the curtains. It feels so close he could just about touch it.
I was watching the sward from the small window. That rocket came from the mountain. I can see this rocket with like a fire behind it. He came and hit the cinema.
Daoud leaps forward to get a better look. His forehead pressed hard against the window, his breath fogging up the.
Glass, and I saw the inside the window. There fire started. Maybe if it gets the curtains, it will destroy the entire cinema. Sits paralyzed, and I'm watching, just watching my memories the city. The seat that I grew up. The cinema was kind of an image that I can't forget that I always in my heart. Leg It was kind of symbol of art, music, cinema. Just it was so painful to see my past life was destroyed in front of my eyes.
Chapter two, Angels of Peace. It's nineteen ninety six and Cabo has suffered years of civil war. To Doude, everything feels lost. His home has been destroyed by rockets, his town reduced to rubble. And that's when a group of people come barreling down the dusty streets.
People called Toliban Angels of Peace.
Taliban means students in Pashta, and its members are quite literally students from traditional religious.
Schools, Muslim seminarists trained in the madrasas the Kuranic Institute of Western Pakistan.
Formed in Kandahar. The Taliban resisted the Mujahideen and took control.
After sweeping across the country. The Taliban now controlled three quarters of Afghanistan and have long claimed to be the only force to bring stability to a country to rent asunder by factional fighting.
And now here they are wearing white and wielding white flags. Come to save Kabu.
Taliban militia moved into the city shortly after one o'clock this morning. They just swept into the city. Most government soldiers and commanders led to the north.
People were so happy. Oh my god, Western forgot I've one son.
The Taliban promised to restore peace and law and to rid the city of corruption and crime.
So people are incredibly tired and they want and into the fighting. I've talked to dozens of people so far today on the street, and they just keep saying, maybe this seems is an end to the fighting.
Like so many people in the region, Daoud is overjoyed. He's just finished school and can finally go back to being a teenager obsessing over how to style his hair and what to study at university, and for a while, life actually feels normal. Dawoud's family has food on the table. They aren't dodging bullets or cowering in the basement, and
everyone is obsessed with a new movie called Titanic. There are Titanic shaped wedding cakes on sale gum package with photos of the movie on it, and long lines of boys wanting a floppy haircut like Leonardo DiCaprio trailing out of barbershop doors. Everyone loves Leo, but Daoud quickly realizes that these angels of peace aren't quite what they see.
What tollibuns bring with them pure religious fanaticism.
They execute the former president the.
Haltim out of the un compound and to the Presidential Palace, and he was beaten and there were several bullets booths.
To his lower body.
They bring in their own leader and before long they remodel the country around their own interpretation of Islam.
They say, you need to have a long here, very long or very sharp. This is a two wist.
They don't want any fancy hairstyles, no fades, no perms, no pompadoors, and absolutely no Leonardo DiCaprio cuts.
You need to have a long beer, traditional clothes.
They start banning everything fun kite flying, pigeon racing, dancing. Before long, Daoud's sisters are pulled out of school because women are no longer allowed access to an education. They can't even go outside without a male chaperone. And then Daoud hears the latest band. The Taliban declares.
No TV, no music, no sound.
Daoud feels like all the air has been knocked out of him. He realizes this means no more Afghan Elvis, no more Bollywood movies. The music which once was his lifeblood has been replaced by the constant drone of Taliban chants, hymns in praise of the Taliban's leaders and cars. To Daude, this band feels heavy, stifling.
Talibhasan Kisu the shy Fuckermani bestudo sada sunny sunny dena sound.
Daoud watches as the Taliban set up checkpoints to stop cars and carry out inspections.
They will come and check the dash forth you have a tip, and if they do, they will beat the driver or the passenger in the car.
And then they'll confiscate the cassette, unspool the black tape and string it up like Christmas lights for all to see.
Music instruments like guitar, tabla, roubaub TVs VCRs, they will break them and hang them above their checkpoint.
Anything that produces sound or provides entertainment is gutted and hung from trees by its internal wiring.
That was kind of a symbol of their achievement.
Daoude keeps his head down, terrified of bumping into the Taliban in the street and being assaulted. He spends most days studying for his medical degree at university and then going straight home as fast as he can, until one day when he sees a crowd in the middle of the square.
I was coming from the university and everyone is watching up happening in the sky.
He weaves his way through, trying to get a peek. The people around him are muttering to each other, their necks extended, trying to get a better view.
I'm also watching the sky. I tried to find what's going on. I can't see anything. Then I realized, oh my god, people are watching something hanging.
THOU can't quite figure out what he's looking at.
I just saw a glimpse of it.
He squints a little harder, and then his stomach twists.
Feets and hands are hanging. Catted feets and hands. Maybe I watched it for five or ten seconds, and then I left.
The image of the severed limbs is etched into Daoud's brain. It's a warning to him of what can happen if someone tries to break the rules. Fundamentalist groups like the Taliban will give a load of reasons why they bring in bands like these bands on television and blue jeans and music. I've seen something like it myself. When I was a kid, I wasn't allowed to listen to secular music for a time because it was considered to be the devil's music by the Pentecostal church I belong to.
They wanted us to be different, distinct, sanctified. The generous interpretation is that they want you to be holy. But really, I think all of these fundamentalist religious groups recognize how powerful music can be, and it might scare them a little. It's all about control, controlling the information you get, controlling how you express yourself, because they don't want to lose you to the world. In Kabbo, Daoud watches as the Taliban set up checkpoints to stop cars and carry out inspections.
When Daoud gets home, he sees his neighbors getting ahead of any suspicion, showing that they are following the Taliban.
Code, they destroyed and burned their own media stuff in front of the people.
The fire crackles as it devours cassette tapes and violins, watches as everything melts, the smell stinging in his nostrils.
Liked.
They just get rid of them. We cannot take this risk, And some families put them under the ground, or some there that no one can find them.
The ground becomes a graveyard of Afghan culture. Everything that Daoud loves most is buried six feet under radios, TVs, vhs, tapes, cassettes, all covered in dirt and purged from their owner's minds. But Daoud, he isn't interested in bearing his identity. He's got a plan. Hey, it's John Legend. If you've been listening, you already know that Afghan Star is a tale of resistance and hope. For fifteen years, Afghan Star was a beacon, But when the Taliban returned to power, they shut the
show down along with so many Afghan rights. They band music education for girls and women, and they continue to clamp down on everyone's freedoms. But there are ways to show your support. We've teamed up with a WA Studios and their incredible graphic artists to illustrate some of the most extraordinary moments in this podcast. There is a unique print for each episode, bringing to life powerful moments that
are moving and inspiring. And there's an unforgettable print based on a painting from superstar artist Raza that represents the spirit of hope embodied by the show. Art and music have the power to uplift us all, and ordering a work for yourself or as a gift help support Afghans. With every purchase, we'll be donating to the Nore Initiative, a nonprofit working to ensure that every Afghan girl has
access to education and opportunity. For more information on our collaboration with AWA, the artworks available to listeners, and to learn more about the Nore Initiative's efforts to educate, support independent media, and transform lives across the region, head to the link in our show notes below. Chapter three the Rebels Handbook, How to Get Away with Music and Movies Under the Taliban. It's a cultural wasteland out here. If you miss flying kites and blasting music until three am,
like da who does? This is how you do it without being killed or tortured. One get a group of friends together. Friends you can trust, rebels who want to party and find a secret clubhouse.
We have this area in Kabul called Mcruraean. There are apartment buildings six floor, seventh floor, eighth floor.
A lot of these apartments are empty since residents fled the country to escape the Mujaiden, So it's a good spot for a clubhouse. Plus, the apartments are so high up that you can blast music without fear of getting caught.
I listened to live music a lot. I partied a lot. We went to this building and we were have live music. We have preparing a food for us. That was party. How if I tell you that I listened to more live music during the Taller One than my entire life, you will laugh.
Step two, make friends with a smuggler. If you love movies, you're gonna need a guy on the inside. You can't just go out and buy VHS tapes from the store.
People were bringing it from Boston, mostly moving a VC or moving a TV. It was kind of like you moving a truck full of drugs in the United States. That's how hard it was.
Dawood's friends put him onto a smuggler. They tell him.
Here's a house you need to go to the evening times. Knock the door. Special v you have had like secret word password correct.
Go into the smuggler's house and shut the door behind you. He'll give you the movie.
You put the cassette behind your belt, put the shirt about it, give the guy the money.
You might think that's the hardest part of the whole thing. Well you'd be wrong. What comes next is the hard part. You need to get home without being caught by the Taliban.
These VCR tapes were so big, and when you walk, it has some purses, makes noise.
Tighten your belt around the tape. You don't want it to slip out. It's going to make a sound every time you take a step. Walk fast, but not too fast. You don't want to look like you're in a hurry to get somewhere. If a member of the Taliban spots you run step three infiltrate the smuggler network. Daoud is an electronics guy, and the Resistance needs more of them. Daud has been fixing stuff since he was in high school, and since the Taliban have been destroying TV antennas and
VCRs always break. Having a guy like him around is pretty handy. The smuggler hooks Daoud up with his customers, and just like that, he's got a thriving business.
We have our own style of doing business, like how what times you should come, how you should come.
You need to give your clients a cover story just in case they're questioned by the Taliban.
You should just know my name of my father, my brother, and if someone comes, you should say this, yea is my relative. I'm coming to my reltive house. It's not a big deal or something like. This was the situation, like it was so scary, honestly.
Step four, Stay cool. Things are gonna get hairy. Like one day you might be in your repair then surrounded by BCRs and broken cassettes and you hear a pounding at the door. Don't panic, Oh.
My god, there's no time for me to clean up this mess. It's no time, just impossible. When this happened, I went to a shock. I don't know what to do and what happened to me? Now I imagine O come and take me, destroy everything but me and the jail kill me. What happened? I'm thinking about this second time. The door is kind of like crazy knocking. I'm lost.
I am here. I accepted the consequence of my work and said, I can't move even I can move, run put, go to the neighbor house, something, do something, run at least, but I can't do it.
So that would sit ready to accept this. Paid the handcuffs, the lashes, all of it. But when the door opens, he hears giggling. It's not the Taliban, it's his kid nephews.
You're so eager to come to our house. Both of them with hand them and foot. They are knocking out our door. Oh my god. When my haird this sack, I became with my own switch, and I said for thirty minutes without.
Moving like I said, don't panic. Chapter four Freedom. It's November two thousand and one, six am. The food is startled by the commotion outside. It's music. Someone is playing music in the street. No one has played music in the streets for five years. Daoud rips the covers off, gets dressed, and practically tumbles down the stairs to see where the noise is coming from.
They had this big giant cars with the big speakers, high quality speakers.
People are hanging out of their car windows blasting tunes while they drive through the city music daoud used to listen to in secret alone.
Lots of people on the street. People are celebrating your music are loud. Some people are shaving their beards, They're making their rear styles.
Daoude feels disoriented. It's like he's woken up in a different country. What on earth is going on? Where are the Taliban?
I see some people with jeans. Most of the restaurants and story are playing loud music.
He walks around in a daze. Speakers are hooked up in the streets competing for attention. Radio sit proudly on window ledges.
I was enjoying going outside, cobble and see the city that was coming back to life.
And that's when he figures out what's happening. They're gone, the Taliban are gone. And only if I'm gon sing in the city last night, last night, this is God no problems. And if the Taliban are really gone, if they've really fled like everyone says, then it's finally safe to do the thing he's been waiting to do.
I tried to shave my there, but I didn't know how to do it.
He runs straight home and grabs a razor. Daoud was only a kid when the Taliban came to power with barely a few whiskers on his chin, and ever since he's been forced to grow out his beard. But now he can finally shave it off. The only problem is he's never learned how to work a razor. I mean, dud could line up at the local barbershop, but he doesn't have the patience for that. So he stands in front of the mirror, razor in hand and starts running it all over his face.
And I like, cut it my face so many visa when I went outside, my friends were laughing at me. What you did to your face? Oh my god, why you're not going to a barber shop or sambia or what you did to your face? You just almost killed yourself.
But Doud doesn't care. He just wants to walk around and drink in the sounds of freedom. The chatter in the barbershop lives, the laughter and squeals as friends reunite in the street, the shouts of parents as their kids run off into the playground to play again. Daoud is reveling in it all, a huge smile plastered across his face. He closes his eyes and lets the music lead him down the street.
People are running toward freedom.
In the absence of the Taliban, music seeps through. Before long there will be concerts and radio shows. And yes, Afghan Star Kabbo is on the cusp of a culture revolution and Daou doesn't know it yet, but he'll be the face of that revolution. He'll change the country.
Yesterday I was driving in the streets and no one noticed me. But today everyone is talking about my show and me, and they even recognized me.
But he'll also put the lives of everyone he knows at risk. The bomb was placed in a taxi which then crashed into the minibus. Definitely this bomb, that's next time on Afghan Star. Afghan Star is a Kaleidoscope production in collaboration with iHeart Podcasts, produced by Thomas d Audio and hosted by me John Legend from samas dot Audio. The series producer is Mira Kumar. Our executive producers are
Joe Sikes and Dasha Lissitsina. Mix and sound designed by Jeff Imptman, story editing by Joe Sikes, with original composition by Kyle Murdoch, Recording engineer Tim McClain. Chapter artwork by A w A Studios from Kaleidoscope, The executive producers are Kate Osborne, Mengesh hatikadur Oz Volisian and Costas Linos. From iHeart, the executive producers are Ali Perry and Katrina Norvel. Social
Media by Darra Patts and by Heiney Shorey. Special thanks to Tom Freston, Lizzie Jacobs, Will Pearson, Carrie Lieberman, Niki Etore, Bob Pittman, John Saik, conn O Byrne Sad Mosenni and the Mossenne Family Matthew Anderson and Axe Alonzo