A walk with Kani to the Kani...

Sunday Memoirs

Kani* is a young girl, and the daughter of a close family friend. She has plump, pink cheeks, a long black ponytail reaching her lower back and when she smiles, she reveals her two lopsided front teeth, showing a little of decay as well.

The ponytail sways side to side as she walks a little in front of me. Kani is taking me for a walk in her village to the nearby kani (freshwater spring). She is a city girl with roots in the village, she knows her way around well -- what could one possibly learn when walking with a 10-year-old Kurdish girl?

As we walk to the Kani a number of girls from the village joined the walk..

Typical, and not surprising, we greet every single man, woman and child we pass during the walk. Most of them know Kani, and I listen as the 10-year-old repeats the same replies. Some of the women kiss me as well, and even ask me to send their regards to "home" (my family) and they don't even know me, nor do they know my family.

I follow Kani, taking a shortcut

She takes me through a shortcut around the corner from the mosque and through the gardens of her relatives. An elderly woman calls out to Kani, I tag along, the woman uses the palms of both her hands to hold my cheeks before she gives me a generous number of kisses. She insists we sit at the porch, swearing that she won't let us go. I doubt any person can refuse her request. A sweet lady, with wrinkles; a hinged, C-shaped back and I can tell she has long, thick, red-colored hair under her veil.

The elderly woman and her little heaven

We sit on a red mat at the porch, looking at a colorful garden in the foreground of a breathtaking mountain backdrop. The garden of the woman is stunning -- If I knew exactly what heaven looked like, I would probably compare it to this. I feel she is a queen in a kingdom. I truly believe the little garden in front of the porch is definitely her kingdom. She has separated the different areas. In some areas, it is neatly divided into small squares -- an area for fruits, another for vegetables, a square for the onions. The trees are on the edges, evenly spaced. She reaches up and then pulls down a branch and reaches out to give me a fruit I haven't tasted before. It's sour.

Getting close to the Kani

By the time Kani and I reached the kani (the spring), our two-person walk becomes a primary school's excursion. Like a train, through the walk, we've picked up passengers until we reach the final destination.

I realized the kani is full of beautiful girls. Women who had come to get water, others who had come to wash dishes; the kani is where the cold water flows -- crystal clear and it even tastes different. The kani is where women come to catch up on gossip, where the girls meet for a chat, where they make their plans and talk about the problems related to the crops and the animals.

It is by the kani, in the camouflage of trees, that the deepest secrets of the village lay. It is where a mother asks another mother for her daughter's hand for her son. It is by the kani where the Kurdish dress is put under the rope belt and white feet are put into the cold water during the hottest gossip. It is near the kani that Romeo hides to get a peek of Juliet. The kani, for a city girl, is just another version of a coffee shop. 

A walk to remember...

Every Sunday I am going to start putting up on the blog my weekly column that is published in the Kurdish Globe