As the United States deepens its commitment to Afghanistan, FRONTLINE takes viewers inside the war-torn nation to reveal a disturbing practice that is once again flourishing in the country: the organized sexual abuse of adolescent boys.
In The Dancing Boys of Afghanistan, airing Tuesday, April 20, 2010, at 9 P.M. on PBS (check local listings), Afghan journalist Najibullah Quraishi (Behind Taliban Lines) returns to his native land to expose an ancient practice that has been brought back by powerful warlords, former military commanders and wealthy businessmen. Known as “bacha bazi” (literal translation: “boy play”), this illegal practice exploits street orphans and poor boys, some as young as 11, whose parents are paid to give over their sons to their new “masters.” The men dress the boys in women’s clothes and train them to sing and dance for the entertainment of themselves and their friends. According to experts, the dancing boys are used sexually by these powerful men.
In detailed conversations with several bacha bazi masters in northern Afghanistan and with the dancing boys they own, reporter Quraishi reveals a culture where wealthy Afghan men openly exploit some of the poorest, most vulnerable members of their society.
“What was so unnerving about the men I had met was not just their lack of concern for the damage their abuse was doing to the boys,” Quraishi says. “It was also their casualness with which they operated and the pride with which they showed me their boys, their friends, their world. They clearly believed that nothing they were doing was wrong.”
Under the guise of doing a documentary on similar practices in Europe, Quraishi gained the confidence of Dastager, a former mujahideen commander and wealthy businessman whose business interests include importing autos from the Far East. With Dastager as his guide, Quraishi takes viewers inside the world of bacha bazi, where prominent men compete to own and use the boys.
“I had a boy because every commander had a partner,” says Mestary, a former senior commander who is well connected with major Afghan warlords. “Among the commanders there is competition, and if I didn’t have one, then I could not compete with them.”
“I go to every province to have happiness and pleasure with boys,” says an Afghan man known as “The German,” who acts as a bacha bazi pimp, supplying boys to the men. “Some boys are not good for dancing, and they will be used for other purposes. ... I mean for sodomy and other sexual activities.”
“It’s a disgusting practice. ... It’s a form of slavery, taking a child, keeping him. It’s a form of sexual slavery,” says Radhika Coomaraswamy, U.N. special representative for Children and Armed Conflict. “The only way to stop bacha bazi is if you prosecute the people who commit the crime, and that’s what we need, because the laws are there in the books against this practice.”
In the documentary, Quraishi interviews local police officials who insist that men who participate in bacha bazi will be arrested and punished regardless of their wealth or powerful connections. Later that day, however, Quraishi’s cameras catch two officers from the same police department attending an illegal bacha bazi party.
“Many of the people who do this work for the government,” says Nazir Alimy, who compiled a report on bacha bazi for UNICEF. “They speak out against it but are abusers themselves. ... I personally cannot mention any names because I am scared.”
Quraishi speaks with some dancing boys who fear they will be beaten or killed. “If they stray, they get killed,” says a 13-year-old dancing boy. “Sometimes fighting happens among the men who own the boys. If you don’t please them, they beat you, and people get killed.”
Quraishi also talks with the family of 15-year-old Hafiz, who reportedly was murdered after trying to escape from his master, a well-known drug baron and warlord. In Hafiz’s case, a suspect -- the policeman who supplied the gun that killed Hafiz -- was arrested and convicted. Sentenced to 16 years in prison, the officer was released after serving only a few months. Hafiz’s family says they suspect the boy’s former owner bribed local officials to win his release.
“If only these people were punished, this kind of thing wouldn’t happen,” Hafiz’s mother says. “Whoever commits these crimes doesn’t get punished. Power is power.”
The program will conclude with a detailed update of attempts to arrange the rescue of one of the dancing boys profiled in the film, an 11-year-old boy bought by Dastager from an impoverished rural family. It is a dramatic final chapter, full of new shocks and surprises, and, in the end, provides a measure of justice for the boy and his master.
The Dancing Boys of Afghanistan is a Clover Films production for WGBH FRONTLINE in association with More 4 and NDR/ARD. The producer is Jamie Doran. The reporter is Najibullah Quraishi. FRONTLINE is produced by WGBH Boston and is broadcast nationwide on PBS. Funding for FRONTLINE is provided through the support of PBS viewers. Major funding for FRONTLINE is provided by The John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation. Additional funding is provided by the Park Foundation and the FRONTLINE Journalism Fund. FRONTLINE is closed-captioned for deaf and hard-of-hearing viewers and described for people who are blind or visually impaired by the Media Access Group at WGBH. FRONTLINE is a registered trademark of the WGBH Educational Foundation. The executive producer of special projects is Michael Sullivan. The FRONTLINE senior producer is Raney Aronson-Rath. The executive producer of FRONTLINE is David Fanning.
Promotional photography can be downloaded from the PBS pressroom.
Press contact
Diane Buxton (617) 300-5375 diane_buxton@wgbh.org
Ignored by society, Afghan dancing boys suffer centuries-old tradition
By Atia Abawi, CNN (www.edition.cnn.com)Kabul, Afghanistan (CNN) -- A young boy dressed in women's clothing, his face caked in make-up, dances the night away for a crowd of men.
The bells on his feet chime away, mimicking the entertainment and sexual appeal of female dancers. But there is no mistaking his pubescent body and face as he concentrates, focusing on every step in order to please his master and his master's guests.
This all played out in a video that CNN obtained from a person involved in the parties.
The boy is but one youth among many throughout the country forced into an age-old underground tradition known as "bacha bazi," or "boy play," in which young boys are taken from their families, made to dance and used as sex slaves by powerful men. The number of boys involved is unknown -- the practice has been going on for centuries, in a country where such practices are overshadowed by conflict and war.
"It's pretty much unappreciated by [the] society, unaccepted and illegal," said Mohammad Musa Mahmodi of the Afghan Independent Human Rights Commission, one of the few organizations in the country working to end "bacha bazi."
Islamic scholars have denounced "bacha bazi" as immoral but the practice continues in Afghanistan, where the government is in the throes of an increasingly bloody battle with insurgent Taliban militants and is also working to recover from decades of conflict.
The abuse stays on the backburner of issues in Afghanistan. People are aware of it, but they don't really talk about it. Almost everyone in the country is coping with some level of injustice, and they are just trying to survive.
It is widely known among the population that, most of the time it is commanders, high-ranking officials and their friends who partake in the abuse of the boys.
"It continues because of the culture of impunity and lack of legal provision against this practice," Mahmodi explained.
Farhad,19, and Jamel, 20, are two grown dancers who were forced into "bacha bazi" about five years ago.
Farhad was 13 when his older neighbor tricked him into coming to his home. He was made to watch a sex tape and then raped. After the brutal assault, he was taken to another location where he was locked up and used as a sex slave for five months.
"I got used to him," Farhad said, trying to explain why he stayed with his neighbor after the traumatizing experience.
"He would sometimes take me to parties, and sometimes other places. I was with him all the time," he said.
In Afghan society the victims of rape and assault --- both male and female --- are often persecuted and punished rather than the perpetrator. The shame forces boys like Farhad to continue in leading such lifestyles, even when they have the chance to break away.
Jamel, Farhad's friend and dance partner, is now married but he was the "bacha bereesh" -- or "boy without a beard" -- of a powerful warlord who has since left the country. He said the only reason he continues to dance is to provide for his younger brothers and sisters.
"I make them study, dress them, feed them. Any money I make I spend on my family. I don't want them to be like this, be like me," he said, brushing his shoulder length hair away from his eyes, framing his thin oval face.
Farhad and Jamel say their families know what is going on now but are powerless to stop it -- in fact they need the money and income they make.
Both Jamel and Farhad look and act more like women than men, a trait that can be deadly in Afghanistan's male-dominated society. Even the police can't be counted on for protection.
Farhad said that he was taken from a party by four police officers one night and almost gang raped at the station Before their commander walked in and stopped the assault. But then, "He said if I wanted to be set free I should give him my money and my mobile," Farhad said. "I had no real choice, so I gave him my money and mobile."
The boys said they are continuously threatened, beaten and raped by men who attend the parties they dance at; parties fueled by alcohol and drugs.
"The nights we go out, we are scared," said, Jamel, who is the more talkative of the pair and the one who more resembles a woman. "We always think about how we will be able to get out without someone attacking us."
Despite the dangers, they continue to dance, making $30 for the night -- a night that usually ends in assault -- because they say it is the only thing they know and their only way to make money. There are no opportunities in Afghanistan for people like them.
And once branded as men who danced as women, there is no turning back.
"We are not happy with this line of work," Jamel said. "We say that it would be better if God could just kill us rather than living like this."
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