BEIRUT: A play about Syria’s war, told through one family’s tragedy, made its Lebanon debut on Friday, the closest it will ever get to being staged on home soil, its Syrian director said.
“It would be impossible to perform it in Syria. There are red lines, and the censorship that was there before 2011 is still there today,” said Omar Abu Saada, one of the country’s best-known theater directors.
The play — called “While I Was Waiting” — is based on the real-life story of a young man found beaten unconscious near a hospital in Damascus in 2013, but the circumstances of his beating and subsequent death remained unclear. Abu Saada knew the man and his family.
“When I thought about working on a new project, this was the story that came to my mind. It pretty much imposed itself,” he said.
In the play, the man oscillates between life and death and the lack of answers unnerves his family. His suspended state is a metaphor for the state of waiting that all Syrians share, whether inside the country or abroad and regardless of their political views, the director said. Another thing all Syrians share is loss, he added.
The Syrian conflict, which began with a popular uprising against the state, has raged on into its seventh year. The war has killed hundreds of thousands of people, made more than half of Syrians homeless, and created the world’s worst refugee crisis. “Syrians today are not in a single place, they are suspended. Waiting is something that we all have in common,” Abu Saada said. “Most people lost someone close, either by death, emigration or imprisonment. Everyone lost something.”
This has changed the way Syrians think, their social fabric and even the way they make art, he said.
The play charts the disenchantment of young Taym, the comatose patient, from his hope for change at the start of the 2011 uprising to his despair as it spiralled into a war.
Syria’s young generation, active in organizing and documenting the mass protests, lost the most in the violent turn of events, he said. “The state of coma is more of a metaphor for the lack of power to change things,” Abu Saada said.
The play made its debut in Brussels in 2016 and has since been staged in France, the United States and Japan among other places.
The six cast members said they could not meet anywhere in the Arab world for rehearsals because of visa restrictions.
“So in the end, we rehearsed in France which under normal circumstances would have been the harder place to go to,” said Nanda Mohamed, a Syrian actress.
The writer, who has previously lived in Lebanon, had to leave Beirut in 2015 when the Lebanese government imposed stricter conditions on Syrians in the country. But he said being forced to leave Lebanon helped him view the war differently.
“Sometimes the geographical distance helps create the gap for critical thinking and I tried to take advantage of that,” said Mohamed Al-Attar, 38.
“What happened to us was tragic but what would be more tragic is if we could not review things. It would be disastrous if after the heavy price we paid and we continue to pay that we also do not have the courage to think about what we lost and boldly criticize it,” Attar said.
Attar previously worked in Beirut with director Abu Saada on an adaptation of the Greek myth Antigone performed by an all-female cast of Syrian refugees.
Both agree the play is about fueling debate about a war that is not yet over.
“The idea of creating a play about something that you are living in the middle of and still being affected by and probably have not yet processed is difficult,” Abu Saada said. “But I know that there is no running away from it.”
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In Beirut, play about Syria’s war gets as close to home as it can
In Beirut, play about Syria’s war gets as close to home as it can
Japan’s traditional kimonos are being repurposed in creative and sustainable ways
- A genuine silk kimono, which literally means ‘worn thing,’ lasts a hundred years or more
- In a Japanese family, it’s handed down over generations like heirloom jewelry, artworks and military medals
TOKYO: The kimono, that elaborate, delicate wrap-around garment worn by geisha and samurai from centuries back, is getting a vibrant remake, appreciated these days for a virtue that’s more relevant than ever: sustainability.
A genuine silk kimono, which literally means “worn thing,” lasts a hundred years or more. In a Japanese family, it’s handed down over generations like heirloom jewelry, artworks and military medals.
It never goes out of style.
The design of the kimono and accompanying “obi” sash has remained basically the same since the 17th century Edo period depicted in Akira Kurosawa samurai movies.
But today, some people are taking a different creative approach, refashioning the traditional kimono, and also taking apart and resewing them as jackets, dresses and pants.
“I noticed that a lot of beautiful kimono is just sleeping in people’s closets. That’s such a waste,” said Mari Kubo, who heads a kimono-remake business called K’Forward, pronounced “K dash forward.”
Hers is among a recent surge in such services, which also turn old kimono into tote bags and dolls.
The most popular among Kubo’s products are “tomesode,” a type of formal kimono that is black with colorful, embroidered flowers, birds or foliage at the bottom.
She also creates matching sets, or what she calls “set-ups.” A tomesode is turned into a jacket with its long, flowing sleeves intact, and its intricate patterns placed at the center in the back. She then takes a kimono with a matching pattern to create a skirt or pants to go with the top. Sometimes, an obi is used at the collar to add a pop of color.
Kubo said many of her customers are young people who want to enjoy a kimono without the fuss.
A remade kimono at K’Forward can cost as much as 160,000 yen ($1,000) for a “furisode,” a colorful kimono with long sleeves meant for young unmarried women, while a black tomesode goes for about 25,000 yen ($160).
Reuse and recycle
What Tomoko Ohkata loves most about the products she designs using old kimonos is that she doesn’t have to live with a guilty conscience, and instead feels she is helping solve an ecological problem.
“I feel the answer was right there, being handed down from our ancestors,” she said.
Recycling venues in Japan get thousands of old kimonos a day as people find them stashed away in closets by parents and grandparents. These days, Japanese generally wear kimonos just for special occasions like weddings. Many women prefer to wear a Western-style white wedding dress rather than the kimono, or they wear both.
Many of Ohkata’s clientele are people who have found a kimono at home and want to give it new life. They care about the story behind the kimono, she added.
Her small store in downtown Tokyo displays various dolls, including a figure of an emperor paired with his wife, who are traditionally brought out for display in Japanese homes for the Girls’ Day festival every March 3. Her dolls, however, are exquisitely dressed in recycled kimonos, tailored in tiny sizes to fit the dolls. They sell for 245,000 yen ($1,600) a pair.
The art of putting on a kimono
The original old-style kimono is also getting rediscovered.
“Unlike the dress, you can arrange it,” says Nao Shimizu, who heads a school in Japan’s ancient capital of Kyoto that teaches people how to wear a kimono and how to carry oneself while wearing it.
“In half a year, you can learn how to do it all by yourself,” she said, briskly demonstrating several ways to tie the obi to express different moods, from playful to understated.
Besides its durability, said Shimizu, that versatility also makes the kimono sustainable.
Younger Japanese are taking a more relaxed view, wearing a kimono with boots, for instance, she laughed. Traditionally, kimono is worn with sandals called “zori.”
Although it requires some skill to put on a kimono in the traditional way, one can take lessons from teachers like Shimizu, like learning a musical instrument. Professional help is also available at beauty parlors, hotels and some shops.
Most Japanese might wear a kimono just a few times in their lives. But wearing one is a memorable experience.
Sumie Kaneko, a singer who plays the traditional Japanese instruments koto and shamisen, often performs wearing flashy dresses made of recycled kimonos. The idea of sustainability is deeply rooted in Japanese culture, she says, noting that the ivory and animal hide used in her musical instruments are now hard to obtain.
She calls it “the recycling of life.”
“The performer breathes new life into them,” says the New York-based Kaneko.
“In the same way, a past moment — and those patterns and colors that were once loved — can come back to life.”
A genuine silk kimono, which literally means “worn thing,” lasts a hundred years or more. In a Japanese family, it’s handed down over generations like heirloom jewelry, artworks and military medals.
It never goes out of style.
The design of the kimono and accompanying “obi” sash has remained basically the same since the 17th century Edo period depicted in Akira Kurosawa samurai movies.
But today, some people are taking a different creative approach, refashioning the traditional kimono, and also taking apart and resewing them as jackets, dresses and pants.
“I noticed that a lot of beautiful kimono is just sleeping in people’s closets. That’s such a waste,” said Mari Kubo, who heads a kimono-remake business called K’Forward, pronounced “K dash forward.”
Hers is among a recent surge in such services, which also turn old kimono into tote bags and dolls.
The most popular among Kubo’s products are “tomesode,” a type of formal kimono that is black with colorful, embroidered flowers, birds or foliage at the bottom.
She also creates matching sets, or what she calls “set-ups.” A tomesode is turned into a jacket with its long, flowing sleeves intact, and its intricate patterns placed at the center in the back. She then takes a kimono with a matching pattern to create a skirt or pants to go with the top. Sometimes, an obi is used at the collar to add a pop of color.
Kubo said many of her customers are young people who want to enjoy a kimono without the fuss.
A remade kimono at K’Forward can cost as much as 160,000 yen ($1,000) for a “furisode,” a colorful kimono with long sleeves meant for young unmarried women, while a black tomesode goes for about 25,000 yen ($160).
Reuse and recycle
What Tomoko Ohkata loves most about the products she designs using old kimonos is that she doesn’t have to live with a guilty conscience, and instead feels she is helping solve an ecological problem.
“I feel the answer was right there, being handed down from our ancestors,” she said.
Recycling venues in Japan get thousands of old kimonos a day as people find them stashed away in closets by parents and grandparents. These days, Japanese generally wear kimonos just for special occasions like weddings. Many women prefer to wear a Western-style white wedding dress rather than the kimono, or they wear both.
Many of Ohkata’s clientele are people who have found a kimono at home and want to give it new life. They care about the story behind the kimono, she added.
Her small store in downtown Tokyo displays various dolls, including a figure of an emperor paired with his wife, who are traditionally brought out for display in Japanese homes for the Girls’ Day festival every March 3. Her dolls, however, are exquisitely dressed in recycled kimonos, tailored in tiny sizes to fit the dolls. They sell for 245,000 yen ($1,600) a pair.
The art of putting on a kimono
The original old-style kimono is also getting rediscovered.
“Unlike the dress, you can arrange it,” says Nao Shimizu, who heads a school in Japan’s ancient capital of Kyoto that teaches people how to wear a kimono and how to carry oneself while wearing it.
“In half a year, you can learn how to do it all by yourself,” she said, briskly demonstrating several ways to tie the obi to express different moods, from playful to understated.
Besides its durability, said Shimizu, that versatility also makes the kimono sustainable.
Younger Japanese are taking a more relaxed view, wearing a kimono with boots, for instance, she laughed. Traditionally, kimono is worn with sandals called “zori.”
Although it requires some skill to put on a kimono in the traditional way, one can take lessons from teachers like Shimizu, like learning a musical instrument. Professional help is also available at beauty parlors, hotels and some shops.
Most Japanese might wear a kimono just a few times in their lives. But wearing one is a memorable experience.
Sumie Kaneko, a singer who plays the traditional Japanese instruments koto and shamisen, often performs wearing flashy dresses made of recycled kimonos. The idea of sustainability is deeply rooted in Japanese culture, she says, noting that the ivory and animal hide used in her musical instruments are now hard to obtain.
She calls it “the recycling of life.”
“The performer breathes new life into them,” says the New York-based Kaneko.
“In the same way, a past moment — and those patterns and colors that were once loved — can come back to life.”
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