A virtuosic musician silenced through torture by the taliban

Ismail, a musician from Afghanistan in his late twenties inhabits a caravan in the Calais 'jungle' along with his wife and three children. Always eager to receive guests, as guests mean an audience, we are treated to live music from exotic (to a Westen audience) looking instruments whilst his wife prepares us tea. A sweet, milky version of tea, that I've only ever had in the 'jungle'. 

As a few of us sit huddled together on the seating which must also somehow serve as the bed for the whole family, Ismail takes out an instrument that I haven't seen him play before. It's a bowed stringed instrument with two strings and made from scrap materials he has gathered together from the 'jungle'. Instrument maker can be added to his long list of talents. I believe it's a rebab. It looks like a mini cello - my instrument, and certainly was around many centuries before those famous Italians got started on making the western string instruments that my colleagues and I play in my string quartet. He uses a violin bow, one in desperate need of rehairing with only a few strands of hair left on it. In the absence of any rosin (a solid piece of resin usually from conifers) that when rubbed on the bow hair (horse hair) keeps traction on the strings when playing - he uses a sugar cube. Ingenious! Something to remember for my future forgetfulness. I guess, for Ismail, it wasn't the first thing you'd think to pack when fleeing persecution. 

Music for Ismail is food, is life, he just has to play.

It's hard not to think about the scars that he once showed me, as a result of torture at the hands of the taliban - just for doing what I am so fortunate to be able to call my job. That will never escape me and nor should it.