Community TV Comes to Helmand
The government has set up a new local television channel, but in a conflict-torn province, there may not be enough electricity to keep it running.
Community TV Comes to Helmand
The government has set up a new local television channel, but in a conflict-torn province, there may not be enough electricity to keep it running.
Finally, some good news for a corner of Afghanistan that has seen more than its share of trouble over the past year: Helmand, the centre of drugs and insurgency, now has its own television station.
In late September, government officials cut the ribbon on Helmand Radio and Television, which will provide local residents with three hours a day of news and information in Pashto, the language of the overwhelming majority here.
While not everyone is convinced that a media outlet answering directly to the provincial governor will be able to provide an objective view of life in the province, most people seems overjoyed that there is at last an alternative to the national TV channels, which sometimes offend local sensibilities.
“At last we don’t have to watch dirty programmes like those on Tolo,” said Nazardin, a resident of the Nawa district. “I am very happy that this television has started. If it works well, with enough programming, I don’t think anyone will watch those other stations any more.”
Local residents have been hungry for television in their own language and about their own culture.
The newer Afghan TV channels like the independent Tolo TV, are extremely popular in the north of the country, but cause resentment in this conservative southern province, which is heavily dominated by Pashtun tribal customs. Tolo’s standard fare of Bollywood movies, news in the other official state language, Dari, and political commentary that pokes fun at many ethnic groups including the Pashtuns have raised hackles in Helmand and other parts of the south.
“I am very happy that people can now watch their own television, in their own culture,” said Rahmatullah, a resident of Chan Jir, a village in the Nad Ali district. “Before this, my children were watching Tolo TV, but now no one will watch that station and its Indian programmes.”
Helmand television was in fact funded mainly by the Indian government, which contributed 100,000 US dollars for construction work and equipment.
The station will broadcast only to an area within a 40-kilometre radius of the provincial capital, Lashkar Gah, and for the moment will broadcast three hours per day, from six until nine in the evening.
The government has ambitious plans for the station.
“This television will put programmes on air that will encourage the people of Helmand to have peace, security, and culture,” said provincial governor Assadullah Wafa at the opening ceremony. “We will not show foreign culture or foreign programmes.”
It was hard work to get the station up and running. There is little local technical expertise, and engineers were reluctant to come down to Helmand because of security concerns.
“The station was supposed to open three months ago,” said the governor. “But due to the lack of engineers, it was delayed again and again. No one was willing to come from Kabul because of the security situation. I personally told the engineers from national television, based in Kabul, to help us launch this station, but they didn’t come.”
The experts finally arrived, but they were clearly unhappy about the security risks.
Helmand, the centre of the Taleban-led insurgency, is cut off from much of the rest of the country. The 145 –kilometre road from Kandahar is one of the most dangerous stretches of asphalt in the country, with suicide bombers, “improvised explosive devices”, and Taleban checkpoints quite common.
Flights are irregular and expensive. The only private company that flies with any frequency to Helmand charges 440 dollars for a one-way flight from Kabul to Lashkar Gah. This was clearly beyond the government’s means.
“We were very afraid, and we wanted to fly to Helmand, but the government couldn’t afford the tickets,” said Saber, an engineer who came from Kabul to help with setting up the station.
“Now that we’re here, I am scared to death about getting back to Kabul.”
Aziz Rahman, another engineer, showed a bit more bravado.
“I am not afraid of being killed,” he said. “I am just concerned for my family. They don’t want me to be here, and they are very worried.”
Launching the station was only half the battle. Now the provincial authorities have to lay on the power to keep it going.
The Kajaki hydroelectric station, in northern Helmand, theoretically furnishes much of the electricity for this province and for neighbouring Kandahar. But fierce fighting around the Kajaki dam has delayed a project to upgrade its generating capacity. Current levels of output are frequently interrupted when insurgents or local residents cut power lines in major switching stations such as Sangin.
Lashkar Gah also has generators to supply residents with power, but the money to run them is tight.
Abdul Malek Mushfeq, the head of Helmand Radio and Television, says the power supply is the main problem facing his station.
“We don’t have a stable electricity supply,” he complained. “It comes and goes three times in an hour. This is no good for television.”
He said the TV station had been given a generator, but did not have the money to pay for fuel.
“We haven’t even been able to start up the generator yet,” he said. “Even though we are a government institution, we get the same electricity as residents. When their power is off, ours is, too. So we are facing a big problem here.”
Mohammad Nabi, head of the provincial electricity department, confirmed there was a supply problem.
“The power coming from Kajaki is weak; it isn’t enough for the city,” he said. “Sometimes there is an overload at Kajaki and they just shut it down. Then we have no power at all.
“We would like to give the television station two power lines, so that when one isn’t working the other can provide back-up. But the automatic switch box that connects Kajaki-generated power and the generator is malfunctioning.”
Mushfeq said the station lacked the capacity to broadcast for more than a few hours a day. “We can only operate for three hours a day, because we don’t have enough resources, including equipment and journalists,” he said.
The station will relay some centrally-produced programmes from Kabul, as well as providing its own coverage of local government activities.
“We will cover meetings and conferences taking place in Helmand,” said Mushfeq. “Recently we went to every single government department and told them we’d be making programmes about their work,” he said. “For example, we went to the agriculture department and filmed them. We got information about how many farmers they had helped, what assistance they are providing to the population, and so on.”
The focus on local government may help to overcome some of the anger and disaffection that Helmand residents have felt at the lack of progress in their communities.
Mushfeq believes the TV station will bring people closer to those who govern them.
That may create the odd uncomfortable moment. In one of its first broadcasts, Helmand TV showed the mayor of Lashkar Gah abusing a reporter for asking what he felt to be an intrusive question.
“We just showed it without editing it,” said Mushfeq. “The mayor himself said, ‘go ahead, just put it on air’. And it was late, so we didn’t have time to edit it out.”
Such interviews could make for problems, said Mushfeq, although he stopped short of saying that the station would be subject to government censorship.
Local residents welcome the exposure given to local affairs.
“Last night I watched Helmand TV, and they were showing a local meeting. It was very interesting for me, as it was the first time I’d seen my own community elders on television,” said Muzamel Shukri, a resident of Nad Ali district.
Others were more sceptical, however.
“I am not optimistic about this television,” said Hezbullah, who lives in the Marja district. “It’s government-run. And it needs lots of support. I can’t even watch it in Marja, because there is no relay tower and the signal is very weak. To be effective, the station would have to cover the whole of Helmand.”
Qudratullah, from Lashkar Gah, was critical of the quality of programmes he had seen.
“These Helmand programmes are not worth watching,” he said. “The picture is very bad, and those long reports are very boring.”
But most were willing to give the new station a chance.
“This television station is a good thing, because it may tell us what is really going on in our society,” said Malem Afzal, a resident of Marja district. “I swear I haven’t seen a good programme on national television in the last ten years. I am thirsting for our own television and our own programmes. It’s a shame they don’t have more [broadcasting] time.”
Mohammad Ilyas Dayee is an IWPR staff reporter in Helmand.
In late September, government officials cut the ribbon on Helmand Radio and Television, which will provide local residents with three hours a day of news and information in Pashto, the language of the overwhelming majority here.
While not everyone is convinced that a media outlet answering directly to the provincial governor will be able to provide an objective view of life in the province, most people seems overjoyed that there is at last an alternative to the national TV channels, which sometimes offend local sensibilities.
“At last we don’t have to watch dirty programmes like those on Tolo,” said Nazardin, a resident of the Nawa district. “I am very happy that this television has started. If it works well, with enough programming, I don’t think anyone will watch those other stations any more.”
Local residents have been hungry for television in their own language and about their own culture.
The newer Afghan TV channels like the independent Tolo TV, are extremely popular in the north of the country, but cause resentment in this conservative southern province, which is heavily dominated by Pashtun tribal customs. Tolo’s standard fare of Bollywood movies, news in the other official state language, Dari, and political commentary that pokes fun at many ethnic groups including the Pashtuns have raised hackles in Helmand and other parts of the south.
“I am very happy that people can now watch their own television, in their own culture,” said Rahmatullah, a resident of Chan Jir, a village in the Nad Ali district. “Before this, my children were watching Tolo TV, but now no one will watch that station and its Indian programmes.”
Helmand television was in fact funded mainly by the Indian government, which contributed 100,000 US dollars for construction work and equipment.
The station will broadcast only to an area within a 40-kilometre radius of the provincial capital, Lashkar Gah, and for the moment will broadcast three hours per day, from six until nine in the evening.
The government has ambitious plans for the station.
“This television will put programmes on air that will encourage the people of Helmand to have peace, security, and culture,” said provincial governor Assadullah Wafa at the opening ceremony. “We will not show foreign culture or foreign programmes.”
It was hard work to get the station up and running. There is little local technical expertise, and engineers were reluctant to come down to Helmand because of security concerns.
“The station was supposed to open three months ago,” said the governor. “But due to the lack of engineers, it was delayed again and again. No one was willing to come from Kabul because of the security situation. I personally told the engineers from national television, based in Kabul, to help us launch this station, but they didn’t come.”
The experts finally arrived, but they were clearly unhappy about the security risks.
Helmand, the centre of the Taleban-led insurgency, is cut off from much of the rest of the country. The 145 –kilometre road from Kandahar is one of the most dangerous stretches of asphalt in the country, with suicide bombers, “improvised explosive devices”, and Taleban checkpoints quite common.
Flights are irregular and expensive. The only private company that flies with any frequency to Helmand charges 440 dollars for a one-way flight from Kabul to Lashkar Gah. This was clearly beyond the government’s means.
“We were very afraid, and we wanted to fly to Helmand, but the government couldn’t afford the tickets,” said Saber, an engineer who came from Kabul to help with setting up the station.
“Now that we’re here, I am scared to death about getting back to Kabul.”
Aziz Rahman, another engineer, showed a bit more bravado.
“I am not afraid of being killed,” he said. “I am just concerned for my family. They don’t want me to be here, and they are very worried.”
Launching the station was only half the battle. Now the provincial authorities have to lay on the power to keep it going.
The Kajaki hydroelectric station, in northern Helmand, theoretically furnishes much of the electricity for this province and for neighbouring Kandahar. But fierce fighting around the Kajaki dam has delayed a project to upgrade its generating capacity. Current levels of output are frequently interrupted when insurgents or local residents cut power lines in major switching stations such as Sangin.
Lashkar Gah also has generators to supply residents with power, but the money to run them is tight.
Abdul Malek Mushfeq, the head of Helmand Radio and Television, says the power supply is the main problem facing his station.
“We don’t have a stable electricity supply,” he complained. “It comes and goes three times in an hour. This is no good for television.”
He said the TV station had been given a generator, but did not have the money to pay for fuel.
“We haven’t even been able to start up the generator yet,” he said. “Even though we are a government institution, we get the same electricity as residents. When their power is off, ours is, too. So we are facing a big problem here.”
Mohammad Nabi, head of the provincial electricity department, confirmed there was a supply problem.
“The power coming from Kajaki is weak; it isn’t enough for the city,” he said. “Sometimes there is an overload at Kajaki and they just shut it down. Then we have no power at all.
“We would like to give the television station two power lines, so that when one isn’t working the other can provide back-up. But the automatic switch box that connects Kajaki-generated power and the generator is malfunctioning.”
Mushfeq said the station lacked the capacity to broadcast for more than a few hours a day. “We can only operate for three hours a day, because we don’t have enough resources, including equipment and journalists,” he said.
The station will relay some centrally-produced programmes from Kabul, as well as providing its own coverage of local government activities.
“We will cover meetings and conferences taking place in Helmand,” said Mushfeq. “Recently we went to every single government department and told them we’d be making programmes about their work,” he said. “For example, we went to the agriculture department and filmed them. We got information about how many farmers they had helped, what assistance they are providing to the population, and so on.”
The focus on local government may help to overcome some of the anger and disaffection that Helmand residents have felt at the lack of progress in their communities.
Mushfeq believes the TV station will bring people closer to those who govern them.
That may create the odd uncomfortable moment. In one of its first broadcasts, Helmand TV showed the mayor of Lashkar Gah abusing a reporter for asking what he felt to be an intrusive question.
“We just showed it without editing it,” said Mushfeq. “The mayor himself said, ‘go ahead, just put it on air’. And it was late, so we didn’t have time to edit it out.”
Such interviews could make for problems, said Mushfeq, although he stopped short of saying that the station would be subject to government censorship.
Local residents welcome the exposure given to local affairs.
“Last night I watched Helmand TV, and they were showing a local meeting. It was very interesting for me, as it was the first time I’d seen my own community elders on television,” said Muzamel Shukri, a resident of Nad Ali district.
Others were more sceptical, however.
“I am not optimistic about this television,” said Hezbullah, who lives in the Marja district. “It’s government-run. And it needs lots of support. I can’t even watch it in Marja, because there is no relay tower and the signal is very weak. To be effective, the station would have to cover the whole of Helmand.”
Qudratullah, from Lashkar Gah, was critical of the quality of programmes he had seen.
“These Helmand programmes are not worth watching,” he said. “The picture is very bad, and those long reports are very boring.”
But most were willing to give the new station a chance.
“This television station is a good thing, because it may tell us what is really going on in our society,” said Malem Afzal, a resident of Marja district. “I swear I haven’t seen a good programme on national television in the last ten years. I am thirsting for our own television and our own programmes. It’s a shame they don’t have more [broadcasting] time.”
Mohammad Ilyas Dayee is an IWPR staff reporter in Helmand.
