A non-profit skate club in Afghanistan, run by an Australian, is bringing the usually segregated girls and boys together, writes DAVID ZUCCHINO.
A WHITE VAN pulls up to a concrete fountain on a leafy side street in the centre of Kabul, trailed by shrieking Afghan children. “Ollie! Ollie!” they shout, pounding on the vehicle. Oliver Percovich, a lanky Australian in a black T-shirt, emerges from the van with a load of banged-up skateboards. The children grab the boards and race off to skate in the cracked bowl of the dried-up fountain.
Skateboarding was unknown to Afghans until Percovich started teaching local children to skate in early 2007. He had followed his girlfriend, a social scientist, to Kabul; two years later, their relationship is over and his girlfriend is back in Australia. But Percovich’s “Skateistan” non-profit club has become a magnet for children in the Afghan capital.
In a country where girls are rigidly segregated from boys and rarely participate in sports, Skateistan has managed to bring the sexes together. Dozens of children swarm across the fountain every day, sharing boards and showing off improvised skating moves. Some are former street beggars who are paid a few dollars a day to instruct playmates on basic techniques. Others are middle-class children who otherwise would have little contact with poor street kids, or with children on the other side of Afghanistan’s volatile ethnic mix.
“The boards are just our carrots,” Percovich says. “They’re a way to connect with kids and build trust.” For now, Percovich uses the skateboards to entice children into informal lessons and counselling sessions. But, starting in autumn, he hopes to bring the kids into classrooms.
A few kilometres away, the ground was broken this summer on a €700,000 indoor skate park that Skateistan is building, with local and international donations, on land given by Afghanistan’s Olympic committee. Percovich says the children will be able to attend English and computer classes and learn life skills at the 19,000 sq ft (1,766 sq m) park. The park will be Afghanistan’s largest indoor sports facility when it is completed, Percovich says.
In another initiative, Percovich has persuaded private donors to pay $60 (€42) a month to send children to Afghan schools. That programme targets girls and young children.
“Maybe we can play some small part in keeping these kids from becoming insurgents later on,” Percovich says. Skateistan’s logo features a skateboard crushing an assault rifle.
Percovich says he didn’t come to Afghanistan to start a skateboard movement. But when Afghan children saw him skating, he said, “they fell in love with skating instantly – and as soon as I let them use the boards, they were hooked.” He scrounged €5,000 in donations in his first full year here in 2008. His ex-girlfriend helped write a detailed proposal that attracted donations, including €10,500 from the Canadian government. Skateistan has since received much larger contributions – including €88,000 each from the governments of Denmark and Norway and €93,000 from Germany, according to Percovich. There are about 90 children taking part now, with a goal of 360 after the indoor centre opens.
The sight of boys and girls exercising together in public has been too much for some Afghans. While the parents of most girls in the programme support their daughters’ participation, some conservative Afghan men have objected.
“No Afghan has told me flat out: ‘Hey, you have to stop doing this’,” says Percovich. “But we do get some fathers or brothers who aren’t happy.”
Last month, two young Afghan men confronted Percovich and a volunteer and demanded that they remove girls from the skating fountain. One man punched the volunteer before the men angrily walked off.
Despite the widespread violence in Afghanistan by the Taliban and other Islamic militants, Percovich says he doesn’t feel threatened. Although several girls say their fathers and brothers approve of their skating with boys, one girl says her brothers beat her when they found out.
The programme is for girls up to 12 and boys up to 17, although most of the boys are 10-13. After girls reach puberty, traditional Muslim families require them to cover themselves, and they forbid social contact with unrelated males.
Fazila Shrindul (10) a wisp of a girl who skates with her gold headscarf fluttering behind her, says her father appreciates the 100 afghanis (about €1.40) a day she earns teaching other girls to skate. The income helps pay for her schooling. On her daily 30-minute walk to the skating fountain, she passes streets where she once begged for spare change.
Fatana (11), a tall, sturdy girl who lives in the Soviet-era high-rise apartments next to the fountain, joined Skateistan after watching other children. She says her father tolerates her skating with boys. But, she adds, giggling, “He always warns me: Watch out for the boys!”
Skating here has a distinctive Afghan flair. Percovich says he doesn’t want to impose Western clothing, hair styles or techniques. “We’re just here to plant seeds – and then it’s up to the youth here to grow up and make changes in their own communities their own way.” Late last month, Percovich arranged for four international skateboard professionals to fly in to work with Afghan children. Cairo Foster, a skater from Oakland, California, said he was intrigued by the programme’s focus on improving children’s lives.“It’s a lot more than just showing the kids how to use skateboards,” he said. “I think it’s a really good way to show them there’s hope here.”
- LA Times–Washington Post