Bareh Watan, Hazar Dafa (For the Homeland, a Thousand Times Over) By Heela Naqshband

As part of Notes for Tomorrow, we asked five Las Vegans if they wanted to help us create one of the exhibition’s artworks, Amrita Hepi’s Soothsayer Serenades, a project that invites participants to curate playlists that can be shared on social media. Hepi asks each person to title their playlist with “a provocation.” In this essay, Heela Naqshband reflects on the inspiration behind her playlist, Bareh Watan, Hazar Dafa (For the Homeland, a Thousand Times Over).

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Bareh Watan, Hazar Dafa (For the Homeland, a Thousand Times Over)

By Heela Naqshband When asked to participate in Amrita Hepi’s Soothsayer Serenades project and curate a list of songs inspired by “the action of dancing together,” my immediate thought was the attan. The attan is a traditional folk dance that is considered the national dance of Afghanistan, where I am from.

I was born in the capital city of Kabul in 1979, and, because of the Soviet invasion, my parents and I hurriedly left after my first birthday. They never anticipated that for my entire life the country would be engaged in some form of conflict. It’s been over a year since the country fell once again to the Taliban, and alongside an economic collapse, a government run by warlords, and extreme famine, girls cannot attend school past sixth grade, women are heavily restricted from society, and art, music, and dancing have been banned. Again.

Over the summer I attended the wedding of a dear family friend. I remember going to her parents’ wedding when I was a teenager, and, though decades have passed between the two celebrations, both weddings were a beautiful display of our culture and provided a way to connect to our traditions, as is the case for many immigrant families. This wedding was even more special as it was the first one I had gone to since the start of the pandemic. Everyone was so happy to see each other. But, aside from the camaraderie, live music, and delicious food, my favorite part of Afghan weddings is the attan. While friends and family tear up the dance floor all night long, the attan happens towards the end of the evening and it’s a dance that anyone can do, even someone like myself, the shy kid who always ran away when asked to dance at parties and is still not the most confident dancer.

Everyone gathers in a large circle and steps along to the drumbeat while clapping and twisting.

You take a step and clap while turning towards the circle, then you take another step and clap while turning away from the group. Some even twirl or wave scarves. There are variations depending on what part of the country you’re from, but I’m mainly familiar with the Kabuli version. And now, in the age of Instagram, the young adults of the family often change into traditional outfits, which include gorgeous, ornate, colorful tunic-type gowns for the women, and they choreograph their moves beforehand, so it really becomes a performance! The beat gets faster and faster, turning almost into a competition with only a few remaining by the end. I absolutely love it! At this wedding, the young women dancing also carried miniature Afghan flags – the black, red, and green one we identify with, not the new white flag implemented by the Taliban. It was such a touching symbol of our stance against the oppressive regime in power, whose enforcers have been known to attack weddings and would never allow men and women to dance together and celebrate. All of this – the attan, Afghan music, and the collective happiness that can be had while dancing together and celebrating your culture – inspired my Soothsayer Serenades playlist.

One of the most iconic Afghan singers is Ahmad Zahir. Known as the “Afghan Elvis,” he tragically died in a car accident on his thirty-third birthday (less than two months after I was born), though many speculate he was assassinated for his political views. His music has far outlived him and immediately takes me back to the carefree family parties of my youth, especially the song “Laili Laili” which reminds me of my favorite cousin.

Another memory from my childhood is “Janomeh.” This version is sung by the Iranian pop star Leila Forouhar. The word “jan” (pronounced like the name John) means “life” or “soul” in Farsi/Dari, but when used after someone’s first name it is a term of endearment, literally meaning “my dear.” My mom even has me down as Heela jan in her cell phone. Iranians often use “joon” and Turkish people say “jim” (pronounced “jeem”), but rarely is someone referred to without this suffix. “Janomeh” essentially means “my life” and is a romantic song that I’m pretty sure has been covered at every Afghan wedding I have ever been to.

I also selected songs by some more contemporary Afghan artists (hugs to my cousin Maria jan for her help!). Aryana Sayeed is currently one of the biggest Afghan pop stars and an outspoken advocate for women’s rights, so I had to include her odes to the attan and to “Kabul Zeba” (Beautiful Kabul). Habib Qaderi and Aria Band are popular Afghan musicians whose songs are staples of many a wedding and also feature one of the most underrated instruments, the harmonium. It’s a type of keyboard that uses a bellows to produce noise, like an accordion. Harmoniums are used extensively in Afghan music. They have a pretty sound that fills me with nostalgia and comfort.

Finally, I picked a song by the American instrumental/funk/psychedelic rock band, Khruangbin. I remember the exact moment my Iranian husband and I were first introduced to them by his cousin.

He was so excited to show us the song “Maria Tambien,” the video for which was heavily influenced by female singers from pre-Islamic Revolution Iran, especially the most famous Persian pop diva,

Googoosh. I later came to find out that two members of Khruangbin had first bonded over their shared love of Afghan music, and I can hear this influence as they play.

When many people think of Afghanistan, they picture tragedy, war, and sadness in a barren desert.

But there’s so much more to the country and its people. Such rich history and culture, so many beautiful traditions and landscapes. I don’t think I’ll ever get a chance to visit the land where my ancestors and I were born, and I’ll definitely never see the version of the country my parents grew up in. Yet, while I’m so far removed and truly only understand a sliver of what it means to be Afghan, I’ll never stop caring about my watan. I just pray for the day peace, stability, freedom, progress, art, music, and dancing can return. Again.

This essay was funded in part with support from Nevada Humanities and the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Soothsayer Serenades is part of Notes for Tomorrow. Notes for Tomorrow is a traveling exhibition organized and produced by Independent Curators International (ICI) and initiated by Frances Wu Giarratano, Becky Nahom, Renaud Proch, and Monica Terrero. The exhibition was made possible with the generous support of the Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts, VIA Art Fund, and ICI’s Board of Trustees and International Forum.

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