I already show you the beauty of South part of the country, so now its time for the next part - today I would like to share with you some of the pics that shows how beutiful is north Kurdistan. By the way - its the place where our dear sister Leyla Zana was born and grow up - so from me, as a little birthday gift to Leyla Xan - Bakuri Kurdistan - North Kurdistan.
Pics are of Mardin, Ararat, Batman, Shirnaq, Hakari, Amed, Batman province with river Tigris and Lake Wan.
Take a look:
Today I decided to dedicate the article to the great woman from Kurdistan - North Kurdistan - 3rd of May is Her birthday - she is 49 today.
I am not going to write her life story - you can find it in internet, for example in Wikipedia. I would like to write about Her in human way, through my love for the country that she is originally from, the country, which rights she is defending.
She spent many years of her life in turkish prison. Why? I will tell you. Maybe it will be difficult to believe - but its true. Ms Zana was the first kurdish lady in turkish parliament. At the last words of her oath of alliegiance she dare to commit a big crime - double crime.
"I take this oath for the brotherhood between the Turkish people and the Kurdish people.”
She dare to mention the name of the nation, which is considered as non-existing by Turks - thats a big crime in Turkya. And in addition she said that in the language of "non-existing" nation, in kurdish language, that is banned and illegal within turkish official boarders.
How long in prison one can spend for something like that - in this radicoulous turkish country? Theoretically it could be even death penalty. Ms Zana was sentenced for 14 years, and she spent 10 years in prison.
“We worked in Parliament for brotherhood, democracy, and freedom. If this is a crime, then I have committed it and will continue to commit it” - she said.
FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY - LEYLA XAN, XUSHKAKA XOSHAWISTAKAM, ROJI LA DAIK BUUNT PIROZ BET - HAPPY BIRTHDAY - MY BEST WISHES FOR YOU!
I cant say that in your kurmanji, but I think the dialect doesnt matter - for you Dear Older Sister:
رۆژی له دایک بوونت پیرۆز بێت
As I promise, I would like to show you something else today. I would like to show you, that Kurdistan is not only prosecutions, killings, sadness and tears of people. Despite all these things that Kurds experienced in their life - things still happening there - Kurds are not peevish, tired of life and full of hate people. In contrary - they are full of life, full of faith in better tomorrow, friendly, kind-hearted. Because Kurdistan - means wonderfull, colourfull culture with joyfull music, delicious food, colorfull, great national clothes. 21st of March - is very important holiday for all Kurds - the festival of joy and hope - NEWROZ.
I told you about Halabja last time. Now I would like to tell you more about what Kurdistan and kurdish nation experienced in their history. I could say - I am doing that to make those who hates Kurds for no reason, who talk about Kurds so bad way (although often they dont know even one person from Kurdistan) - to make those poeple to change their attitude toward Kurds. But from my experience I know that irrational hate is laying so deep in people's heart, that it seems to be impossible to win over it and to get rid of it. So I dont think that people, who hate will change their mind and attitude. But if at least one person after reading that article will get to know more about Kurds and will look different way at "next door brothers" - I will know that my effort wasnt in vain. If not - well, at least I know I tried...
Kurds are not well known nation and some opinions about them are made through stereotypes and prejudice. Considering the location of Kurdistan - Middle East - people often thinks that Kurds are Arabs and the only one thing that others may know about Kurds are: they are muslims (in negative meaning, connected with terrorism). But Kurds have nothing to do with Arabs - they are not Arabs. Its true that most of Kurds are muslims, but still Kurds are completly different from Arabs, even if they have the same religion. People dont know Kurds and something which is unknown and unfamiliar always causes fear and lack of trust. Thats why I encourage you to get more about these people, lets get to know them - like humans, like one of us - not through scientific books. Follow me and get to know them personally from my stories. I want to share my little knowledge about them and I want to share my feelings. I want to show you people who have names, who have faces and who have their own individual life stroies. Come and get to know their stories, sad stories - but I promise that next time I will show you also the happy face of Kurdistan.
Look at this picture:
Its not some ancient times, somewhere far far away. Its the end of XX century - the century of space flights and fast developing global network. Its 80-ies and 90-ies - not far away, but at the Europe doorstep, on the euro - asian border.
People on this pic are Kurds from South Kurdistan, today called Kurdish Autonomy, but still within Iraq borders. They are running off from their houses. They were kicked out from their homes by iraqi soldiers of Saddam, they have to run away from death. Its very possible that these poeple are from Hewler, that was attacked by arab's soldiers. Its very possible that one of this kids are 9 years old boy, name Kamil. His brothers and sisters are with him and one of his parents are carrying his few months old brother Abdulla. His older sister is with little kids. One of them died on the way. I wasnt strong enough to ask why this baby died. Because of coldness? Because of hunger? Because of tiredness?
How many of these people stayed on this road forever? Probably I will never know. I am not even sure if I would like to know. I will never know how many of these kids will never work with me in Magna factory, how many of them will never say "Chony" to me - coz they lost their life on that road and on many other roads like that.
Kamil's older sister is safe now, she is living in Canada and has great family. Little Abdulla also survived. 17 years after it happened, his older brother Kamil told me: "We covered him with all clothes and blankets that we had, coz we didnt want him to freez to death." They were sucessful. Abdulla is 20 years old now, he loves football and plays football himself. Kamil is living in England, he is 28 now.
When he was telling me that story his voice was calm and without any emotions. But how he can have any emotions if he saw all that things, if he had to defend his little sisters and brothers, hide them in a safe place when Turks was shooting to their house with cannon, if they had to leave the house and when they came back at night to take personal stuff they had to do that in completly darkness, coz any little light might be seen by soldiers, who will strat to shoot again.
One day I watched a program in kurdish tv - I cant remember exactly, but I think it was about Halabja - I was shocked, but he said only: "Look what Saddam did to us. What he did to kurdish poeple."
Seevan is 29 now. He is sociologist and he was the teacher at Wolverhampton University. He was doing postgraduate study, writting articles to british and kurdish newspapers. He is my dear friend, my brother and for a short time he used to be my sorani language teacher as well. He used to talk about his life the way as all Kurds do - with no emotions. He told me, that when he was living in Kurdistan, many times at night one member of his family had to stay awake to watch whats going on, otherwise someone might come and kill them. His brother was freedom fighter, that in Kurdistan is called "peshmarga" ("those who face the death, who come forward to face the death"). Iraqi caught some of peshmargas, one of them was Seevan brother. They put them in a prison first and killed after that.
That only few stories out of hundreds, thousands. But I think one story like that is enough to not be able to sleep at night.
This article was first published on 17 march 2007.
... wa sew dabaret...
I decided to do very difficult thing. Because how to write about something like that if any words are not enough to express what the heart would like to say.
Halabja - kurdish city, where on 16 march 1988 the life was going on like everyday. Just oridinary day and people busy with their usual every day activities. Kids playing in front of their houses, somebody doing shopping, somebody cleaning the house, somebody cooking meal - like Nasree Qadir Muhammad. Her sister Rangeen is helping her. They are very busy, coz that day about 30 relatives came to their house to find a shelter in their celler. Airplanes droping bombs are something normal in that place. Nasreen is 16 years old, Rangeen one year younger. She doesnt know yet and nobody knows that few hours later more than 5000 people will lose thier life in Halabja.
Rangeen will be one of them.
Nasreen will survive - to tell her story to the world, the story of eye-witness. With no emotions she will tell about something that is impossible to listen with no emotions. She will tell about the day when something strange happened - coz the iraqi helicopters didnt drop the bombs, nothing blowed up there, as it used to be before, as people get used to. What are these strange metal containers that they are dropping? And that smell... the smell of sweet apples... but why dead birds falling down from the sky like stones? It seems like there is a need to find a shelter in a cellers anyway. But this time the cellers are not shelters - they became traps, coz that gas is heavier than air.
Nasreen! Run away! Run away to the mountains! Hurry up, coz kids in the celler start to feel sick. Go, run toward Anab! But the roads leading from the city are traps as well. Sweet apples bring death to people who try to run away. Dead bodies of people and animals lay on the streets and around the city. Houndreds of bodies. Its impossible to descibe whats going on with poeple - these chemicals attacking everything in human bodies, people cant breath, they skin get burned, they loosing sight...
But Nasreen and her relatives dont give up. Brave people from Kurdistan, from Halabja. Where is Baxtiar, her housband? Is he still alive? He was somewhere outside the city, did he found the shelter on time? It seems like Nasreen is loosing her hope, when she sees what is going on all around. ..
Baxtiar Abdul Aziz will find her few hours later, she will be blind, but still alive. Nasreen will get the sight back after 20 days, but the doctors said she will not be able to give birth to babies. But she will not believe them and three years later they will give birth to the son. They will give him the name Arazoo. Arazoo will live anly three months and he will be one more victim of chemicals - but anyway he will remain the symbol of victory over the bad and evil.
16 march 1988 was the day when 20 years old Muhammad Ahmed Fattah was going to marry Bahal Jamal. Everything was ready for the wedding, but instead of a great kurdish wedding party this boy had to watch his beloved Bahal dying on the cellar stairs. Muhammad remembers that she was scared, she cried and he was trying to calm her down. He told her is just normal thing, just bombs, like it used to be before. But - as Muhammad said - Bahar was wise and she knew that the smell is not the smell of ordinary bombs...
There are thousands stories like these. People from Halabja are telling them with no emotions, coz they are strong. They are much stronger than arab's gas and they know what all Kurds know:
THEY MAY KILL US, BUT THEY CANT DEFEND US.
TO ALL POEPLE, WHO LOST THEIR LIVES IN 1988 IN HALABJA - I DEDICATE THAT ARTICLE WITH THE BIG RESPECT FOR YOUR SUFFERING AND DEATH - WE WILL NEVER FORGET - I WILL NEVER FORGET - AND THIS DAY KURDISH FLAG IS WAVING PROUDLY AND HIGH FOR YOU - FOR BRAVE PEOPLE - MURDERD ONLY BECAUSE THEY WERE KURDS.
Ali Hassan Al-Majid -Ii will find you in hell, where you are and you will pay me for every single kurdish life that you took. And you, Saddam, as well.
If you want, take a look:
My biggest dream is to see this country independent, with great border shape on words map. After that my biggest dream is to go and see with my own eyes all these what I can see on pictures now. I hope both of these dreams will come true one day.
It was very difficult to chose only few photos, coz these are a lot of them and all beautiful.
This time i would like to show you South Kurdistan, called Kurdish Autonomy, the part which is still in iraqi borders. I waoul like to show you my beloved city Hewler at daytime and by night. Two next pics are of two cities which have very interesting location, first is Akre located on the beutiful hill and the other is Amedy. Fifth picture is waterfall called Bexal. As you can see below, you dont have to go to the USA to see beautiful canyons, like from the dream. I hope you will like that photos.
Tha article first published on 15 march 2007.
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Among a lot of things that I got to know about Kurdistan there were unfortunately also these, about which I would preffer not to know at all. And it was a lot of them. Too many. From kurdish tv, but mainly from this hewleri boy I got to know what have been done to these people for so many years. I could write here about terrible things, among these were kicking people out of their homes, out of all villigaes, coz the government put arabs there - but it seems to be nothing, when we know that a lot of these people were just burried alive by iraqis. Those who were lucky - stayed alive. Those who were strong enough - survived. Those, who could escape or defend themselves - survived. Thousands didnt survive...
When some time later I strat to work in Magna Chocolate Factory, where a lot of people are Kurds - many times during my shift, I just stayed and stared at these poeples faces and the first thought that came to my head was: "How good that you are alive". And after thatIi couldnt get rid of thinking what Saddams opressors did to this or that person. Coz all these things didnt take place somewhere very far and very long time ago. No, it was just few years ago, at the end of XX century, almost in Europe and in front of whole world. This world, which stayed silent that time or even if not silent - which didnt screem loud enough to save thousands people from death. I was looking at these boys in Magna and when I imagined what they might experience there - in Kurdistan, on their own land, when they were only few years old - I wanted to screem - of sorrow, anger and helplessness.
How good that you are alive, my dear brother Mushin - always in good mood, always joking and making fun for all 12 hours of our shift. When you was not too busy you used to make little animals from the glue that we used to stick the boxes and till now I have at home some of them - two beautiful elephants, mouse, donkey, rabbit and crocodile made by you. I know you are going to open your own shop, so you will not be back to Magna after seasonal brake, but you will stay in my heart and memory and maybe from time to time we will meet in supermarket. How good that you are alive, Mushin.
How good that you are alive, Hawar, my noddy little brother, who make me sometimes very mad with your unlimited joking. Always similing Hawar, whom Indian ladies called Hassan and I called Shirini, coz he was beutiful and had the longest lashes that I have ever seen in my life. Shirini - our lazy boy, who however always brought pallets from werehouse on time and who always knew if there was something wrong with Kulka. He only took one look at me and he knew straight away that I had problem - he asked whats wrong, tried to make things better, to find the way to help me, to advice me and I felt better when I saw his sweet smile. If you would live in Kurdistan a little bit more to north, Ali al-Majid could have killed you in March 1988. How good that you are alive, Hawar.
How good that you are alive, Ali - you unusually quiet and kind person, always ready to help. I felt better, when I knew Ali is working near me. We used to run after each other all over factory, like two crazy kids. How good that you are alive, Ali.
How good that you are alive, Jalal - very nice man, with the wonderful smile, which made me feel warm and good. Clever Jalal, who exactly knew that in the area where Kulka was working, he was supposed to listen to Kulka and to listen to Kulka's orders - and he used to do that, although it was me, who should listen to his orders. Sometimes you used to come to my workplace to help me for few minutes and after that you felt proud as if you work for me all 12 hours. How good that you are alive, Jalal.
How good that you are alive, Aras. Who could guess, looking at you, that you are so shy? Shy boy, always polite, always nice - my great brother Aras. You even dont know how much I am glad that you are alive.
How good that you are alive, Ibrahim - my dear brother. We understood each other with no words and we used to make jokes in canteen that only we two could make like that. Maybe one day I will tell you, how much i am glad that you are alive.
How good that you are alive, Kaywan - my youngest, the most noddy, but lovely brother. You always had to be the first to clock out, no matter the queue. Usually I was the first waiting to clock out, so I always let you to come and I always said to other people: "This is my brother, I keep the place in the queue for him". I am very glad that you are alive, Kaywan.
How good that you are alive - Mahmood from Halabja and your friend Osman, Mahmood from Hewler, Hawrea, Juma, Dilair, Aziz, Ary... - people thanks to whom I was able to go on in life, to stay alive, no matter of problems, coz they were wonderful. Coz they WERE there. And I hope I will see all of you in Magna after seasonal break and that looking at you I will be able to think again: how good that you are alive...
The article first published on 12 march 2007.
