My ink-tipped index

Of all the great things this election has meant to me, the dark blue ink of the tip of my finger will remain a memory of my first vote for years to come. As a matter of fact the blue inky tip of the index finger was a symbol of the democracy that Kurdish people seek to achieve. It was a representation of hope, unity, justice and freedom. It was something unique with profound symbolism. That is exactly why as I voted yesterday I compressed it as deep as I could into the bottle—hence, in attempting to write this piece, it is unavoidable on the keyboard.

July 25 finally arrived, after months of preparation, discussions and despite all confrontations and forces working against this democratic process, election 2009 definitely received the attention and concern of elections in many developed democratic nations. The ink-tipped index finger was an image that exhibited to the world the democracy that is taking place in the Kurdistan region.

After spending years of my life abroad I never imagined my first vote will be back home- in Kurdistan. Having to sign next to my name, receiving the voting papers and then taking five or six steps towards the ballot box was all slow motion in my mind. In those few minutes so much and so many things took my attention. Having already made up my mind of who to vote for, it was simple marking off two ticks, although for me, there was a meaning much deeper than just a tick.

Looking onto the paper I could not perish the images of the Halabja Genocide victims or the Anfal, the Peshmerga martyrs and the image of the many elderly women I had seen during the election campaign- mothers of martyrs and victims of injustice. I remembered the days when my family fled this country, fearing our life; I remembered the years my father, uncles and grandparents spent in the mountains, so a day like this could become reality and not just a dream. I felt gratified and appreciative of the fact I had the responsibility on my shoulders to elect the next government and President of our nation despite a horrific past.
As I placed the voting papers into each of the two boxes, I felt I was a citizen of this land, I felt my voice was important; my ballot was one more to the hundreds already there, although it is this idea that many individuals make up this great society that made me smile and take a deep breath before I pushed the second paper into the long plastic container.
Once upon a time, not too long ago, the Kurdish people were suppressed; they were victims of genocide and discrimination by a regime that knew no better. Today for that exact nation to be able to hold elections that to a large degree are free, transparent and democratic is a demonstration of the heroic and valiant nation that it is. Despite all difficulties, to be able to stand on its own and experience a day such as July 25, 2009- is indeed something every Kurd should be proud of.
The culture of democracy is certainly appearing in the region. Many elderly people guided by one or more of their children were making their way towards the ballot box, some could barely stand upright, probably the first and last time they will be alive to vote; with no pressure on them to go out in the hot weather to a local voting station, and despite their weakness they saw it as its their duty to express their voices.

The scene of families going out together to a local school was in every corner of the region, it was a day where everyone was equal; Kurd or Assyrian; Muslim or non-Muslim; woman or man; wealthy or poor; young or old. This image was clear just by observing any voting venue. That exact nation who was suppressed and victimized gave rights to all its citizens to vote-- even criminals behind bars were given the same privilege as those walking free.
A number of officials made their way to the voting stations along side their partners, this was observed in nearly all Kurdish channels, it gave many people the courage who had not yet voted to also take their wives or daughters when they went to the ballot box later in the afternoon.
During this election process it was an opportunity for Kurdistan to show itself to the world as a democratic nation, which is taking progressive steps towards becoming a region of great opportunities.

For a young Kurdish girl, who was eligible to vote for the first time in her life, I could not have lived a happier or prouder moment such as that of the hot Saturday of July 25; it gave me another reason to be optimistic for tomorrow, and the future-- I could see a brighter light ahead and a future that looks promising in many ways.


C. Sazan M. Mandalawi published in the Kurdish Globe (www.kurdishglobe.net)- July 09

JULY 25!!

Voted for the first time in my life today. So far the process has been smooth, with very little problems, as some people's names have not returned in the voting stations. Other than that, all has been great!!
Prior to making my vote I was watching Kurdish officials making their votes on TV- it was all broadcasted live in our local and satellite stations which was great! there is full day covery of the election in Kurdistan.

I was happy to watch PM Nechirvan Barzani cast his vote along side his partner, Erbil Governor Mr. Nawzad Hadi and Iraqi President Jalal Talabani all came to the polls with their partners- in my opinion was great and a big step for Kurdish Culture, it gave encouragement for other normal men in the Kurdish society to go to the polls with their families.

The atmosphere in Erbil has been superb during the time of the election campaign; now we all wait for the election results; it should be interesting. I am very proud that international supervisers and people were invited, Kurdistan opened its doors for all to make sure the elections were fair!! There will be no excuses and no one will have prove to say the elections were not run well- there was transparency, accuracy and fairness.

At the election rally

As I write today, I have blisters in my feet, my face is red as a ripe tomato because of the sizzling sun, my back hurts because I have been on my feet for hours, I have a round patch around my eyes because of the sunglasses. I have been pushed, shoved squashed and squeezed yet I feel deep contentment as I spent another unforgettable day of my life in Kurdistan in one of the elections rallies in Erbil.
I was in the Franso Hariri stadium where Presidential candidate Masoud Barzani gave a speech to thousands of spectators and Kurdish singer Zakaria Abdulla concluded the night with some of his top hit songs. It is rare that we spend a day and there is so much to write of, yet it is difficult to chose a starting point, no matter how much I will try to express the sentiment and atmosphere in the stadium it will never reflect the reality and the inimitable experience.
Of all the thousands of people in the stadium I cannot remove from my mind the image of the elderly woman who had made her way inside the arena gates and onto the pitch, waving a Kurdish flag in each of her hands, folk singing in an almost yodeling tune in support of her preferred presidential candidate. She was just one of the many elderly women who had made their way into a swarming and crammed stadium. The tears in her eyes made me feel the wounds of her experiences, the suffering of her past and the contentment of the present moment.
The red, white, green and yellow colors were swaying in all directions like ocean waves; women, men and children; the rich and the poor; the old and the young; the Badini and the Sorani-- there was no difference, all I could sense was Kurds celebrating a day like today together. Kurds were rejoicing a moment that our grandparents were only dreaming of and the generation before us sacrificed their lives for.
The smile would not leave the face of An Ex-Peshmerga who had lost both his legs and was guided by his wife into the stadium on a wheelchair, he pushed himself this way and that way, waved the flag, sang along, clapped and would dance if he could. Nor would the smile abandon the cute face of a child with painted cheeks and Kurdish flag headband.
The crowed did not look comfortable; all falling on each other but it did not prevent the chanting, screaming and singing becoming louder every second. From a distant the stadium looked like an overflowing cup with young people sitting on the edges in the brim. The cheering was loud, it was unique and many of what was said indeed was funny but all for a good purpose-- in support of the election rally.
Few of the fights and citizens doing the impossible to get a clear glimpse of the VIPs present gave the evening an enthusiastic and a fanatical mood with lots of energetic vibes from young and old people. As the celebrations came to an end, the clever ones began to leave before the official completion to avoid being jammed in a crammed crowd. Although the slogans, support and the singing continued as groups chanted with flags and posters through the busy streets that surrounded the stadium well into the night.
The fact that there are a large number of lists participating in the elections as rivals or competitors is to a great degree a healthy competition. There has been no law that has prohibited any list or presidential candidate to nominate themselves in the election process. This has already put pressure and responsibility on the winning candidates to gratify the public and fulfill their duties favorably in fear of the elections after this. Steadily Kurdistan is taking steps in fulfilling a healthy and democratic government; the fact that supervisors have been invited from abroad is also a bonus that reflects the amount of transparency and fairness that will be in this election.
I am very proud, as a young Kurdish girl to be witnessing a day like today in Kurdistan. Nevertheless, my small condemnation is that I wished to see the Presidential candidates and the head of different lists to appear in the public with their wives or daughters in the campaigning process; immediately there will be a revolution in the Kurdish culture in regards to women’s status and roles in society. Although I am confident it will not be long before a step like this will take place—maybe the candidates will broadcast victory celebrations with their families for the public to witness.
Now I know why I left behind foreign land and came back to Kurdistan. I am here because I want to experience moments like this, the feelings I had in the middle of the stadium I would not exchange to any paradise place in this world. It was indeed a day that I was proud to be still living to see and experience.



by Sazan M. Mandalawi Published: June in Kurdish globe (www.kurdishglobe.net)

Kurdish bags- my version of Gucci

You cannot say you have been to Kurdistan if you have not visited the Erbil Citadel and the Bazaar that surrounds it. In that area one in particular catches your attention from distance due to its unique colors and really it gives off vibes of the Kurdish culture and folklore even from great distance away.

Any typical girl will tell you an expensive and worthy hand bag is always a good investment; and no one will say no to the renowned designer labels such as Gucci, Chanel, Dior and what have you can never compete with the original handmade Kurdish bags that are a true reflection of the Kurdish culture.

It was always on my mind to have one made especially for me, the dream came true. One of the few shop owners in the Bazaar who sells hand-made Kurdish carpets, wall rug, bags and other Kurdish folklore was more than happy to ‘custom’ design my hand bag. “Remove this, keep this, shorten this, lengthen that, sew here- but not there” the person running the shop will even listen to the colors that you chose- the choices are limitless, but RED is obviously the most desired choice. The end product is definitely a treasured piece and an every use- what better than a hand bag that is hand-made, with your own initials on it, a true reflection and representation of the Kurdish culture.

I just wish people supported this local industry more, and even more importantly appreciated the effort and hard work that goes into the process of creating these small but very meaningful treasures.

Life in Kurdistan

It has been a while...
In simple words: Life in Kurdistan has been busy.
The weather has been great (so far) it is expected for these few months to be a busy time of year.
Earlier in the month, I invested in some good books at the Erbil International Book Fare, it was definitely a proud moment to go and see so many people purchasing books of all subjects and languages. This was the second book fair in Erbil, held in the beautiful Martyr Sami Abdul Rahman park. Its an amazing feeling, just stepping into the large park brings in an internal feeling of contentment...
It's a busy time of year for all as examinations are around the corner, soon is the three month summer break, and the hot weather is approaching!!

Missing Kurdistan...

Miss home.
I wrote it in love hearts everywhere I went in Vienna. Even in this cold weather and continuous snow for over three days now the streets are free of any traffic problems, the trains are functioning as per usual, kids are going to school, shops are full, electricity is not cut and having a warm shower is still possible over the view of white snow from your apartment bathroom.... life here is simple, it is beautiful, but something is not right. I miss home. I miss Kurdistan.

I sit, think and wounder why this is so. You walk in the streets and no one bothers to look at you, where as often walking near the citadel one can feel like Miss Universe with all the stares. Everyone is busy with their daily routines and busy lifestyles. In Kurdistan people care and watch over for one another. That in itself is a great feeling of security. This does not exist here, my uncle is living in this apartment for three years now and only knows nothing about the family living opposite to him. In Kurdistán so often the neighbours are like a second family. Simple things like this contribute greatly to life...

I have taken the opportunity to speak to many Kurds living here in Vienna, it was unfortunate that so many are distant from one another. All of whom express their resentment of the °loneliness° here, (what they call 'ghareebi'- living far from family and relatives). We do not feel this distance in Kurdistan but when living in a place this far in a different culture, surrounding and environment then it is normal to feel this loneliness, to such a degree that you do not feel the other joyful aspects of life.

Notice the frozen lake in the background!!! - absolutely beautiful....

Care for a picnic...?! We could have done with some rain and snow in Hawler this year

Above: My little cousin Hanas. First time I see her in my life, it is hard to think that I will leave them behind... they have become so attached because they have not had close relatives visiting. The little one begins to cry when I say I will be leaving... :(

Valentines...

This year I was lucky to spend °Valentines Day° in Vienna. But it reminded me of Kurdistan last year and the year before. I remember there was an outdoor party in Minaret Park in Erbil in 2007, and last year we had a celebration at uni... Its always good to have such special celebrations as it adds colour and contentment to even one day of the year. I was happy to know even in Kurdistan specíal occassions are celebrated, you may or may not agree with Valentines, and as I always say with the people you love every day is a day of love but the occassion is unique... I am wondering how it was back home today. Hope to be there next year!!!

'Leave the dishes to me' - A Kurdish man

There is a saying that says something along the lines of: in what ever surroundings you are, you will with time adapt and change to suit thT particular environment. I did not agree, but an incident took place earlier today that really captured my attention and I realized it was indeed true.

I have always been with the idea of equality amongst the genders, after living for almost three years in Kurdistan, it became normal for me to think washing the dishes, changing the baby's nappies, cooking and cleaning was what women had to do because of who they are.

Now back abroad, it was a family gathering with some close friends of some of my relatives. After dinner was served, everyone stood up- women and men; boys and girls! each helped in getting the plates, cuttelery and left over food to to the kitchen. That was not what got my attention, I have seen on many occassions Kurdish men assisting with getting the food to and fro the kitchen.

As I pffffing looking at the mountain of dirty dishes covering the double sink, knowing they were waiting for me I began to lift up my sleaves in order to begin what was going to be a tough duty cleaning those dishes, from no where one of the elderly men volunteered to wash the dishes.

That second something inside me said this was not right. I felt almost embarrased to be girl sitting down whilst one of the older men, not his wife, was in the kitchen washing the dishes. I know when I was in Australia this was very normal, and I would never have felt the way I did today. But because it has been almost three years, and the culture in which I have adapted to in Kurdistan it becomes normal to accept the fact that these duties are stereotyped for women.

Going back into the kitchen for a glass of water, I saw even the sink sparking clean the dishes stacked better than I could have ever done, even the large pots washed (I usually prefer to fill it with warm water with a tonne of detergent- supposedly to soak - after an hour or so someone would have scrubbed it and washed it clean!!). I was shocked to see a second male dry cleaning the already washed dishes with a cloth and helping his wife put them away in the cupboards.

This small incident of today is really nothing in a western country, that is why I was surprised and upset to see myself in a situation that I would have never been in. I do wish simple things as such change in our Kurdish culture, where women are elevated out and above their stereotypical duties in the house.

I respected the elder man who volunteered to wash the dishes instead of his wife or daughter, whereas I am almost sure if this was in our region he would be called names by his male friends. I am also sure if this man spent his life in Kurdistan, he would not stand to do the dishes and see it as part of his duty, simply because society and over all environment does not help.

It will take time for Kurdish men (not all, of course) to realize it will not lessen their reputation or decrease from their 'maleness' if they helped their wives here and there from time to time... nevertheless, at the same time that feeling of a hero and the spirit of a Kurdish Peshmerga in our fathers and brothers some how gives them this extra respect that I also adore. Like anything in life, a little bit of this and a little bit of that is always better than good!

let me know what you think...!!

Christmas in Kurdistan

The holiday and festive season has come in Kurdistan!!

It was Eid and we had a break for 8 days, soon we begin the christmas and new year break for another three weeks. After that comes Newroz break, then the other historical Kurdish occasions, following that is Easter and the list goes on...

The 'Jazhn' or 'Eid' season is big here. There are many celebrations and the tradition is deeply rooted. One that I have realized I can not agree with is the killing of animals such as sheep to give to poor and so on... but it appears to be a well known custom. Of course there is the family gathering and the early morning cooking.

The spirit of the festive season is everywhere; the Christmas tree has gone up in our university cafeteria and the area around the citadel has already been decorated with some lights at dark..

Ainkawa- where it is dominated by the Christian community is absolutely beautiful during this time of year as people prepare for their religious celebrations. The atmosphere and is vibrant and lively... (I just wish it would rain more and maybe even some snow...)

To conclude, it makes me so cheerful and happy that people in the region take the time to celebrate this time of year. Whether it is shopping, going for holiday, cooking or just spending time with family and relatives… I wish no matter what people do they make the best of it, and we must never take this opportunity for granted- I doubt people in other parts of Iraq can celebrate like this.

Sazan Mandalawi

Hawler..!!

A few snap shots of my beautiful city...

Special thanks to Khanzad!!

Two years on, and the story continues...

Back to my land- Kurdistan
Sazan Mandalawi

It seems like yesterday when I first landed in the Erbil International Airport, the mixed emotions and feelings of those moments are still with me today. The many times when I had doubted the decision of my permanent return and it took time to adjust back ‘home’. Two years and a half later and I do not regret one second of that decision, it has been a time of my life that can not be compared to any past experiences.

Growing up as a teenager in Perth, Western Australia, was a life resembling a dream for many people, including myself. It was a trouble and carefree lifestyle. Teenage years are always a tricky and a delicate time to individuals, however feeling like you can not fit into the society and group really affected me.

I was always bubbly and made friends easily, but I can recall there was always something inside me that had not settled, I could not fit in. I grew up in a small family that always taught me what it was to be a Kurd- the culture, religion and traditions played a major role in my life even abroad.

These aspects of my life inside the house influenced my life in the outside world. For a young child this became an internal struggle in my younger years.

After our decision of permanent return to Kurdistan, I recollect times of tears, sleepless nights and sadness that my future had been shattered. I look back today and laugh, despite the fact that I have left behind all the luxuries of a developed country, inside I am more content then I ever was in the many years I spent abroad. Why? I ask myself the same question. It maybe because I feel I am one of these people, everything I do I feel it is for the ‘greater good’ I study and I feel I am doing something for this nation, this is a feeling that I never had or thought about before.

I have learned to realize the many things one takes for granted and have come to appreciate the many things life offers. I have left behind the idea of comparing ‘here’ and ‘there’ instead, I put side by side the idea of ‘here today’ and ‘here yesterday’. Everyday there is progress in the region, a new park, a new organization, a new project, a new building and the of course the endless new malls in Erbil. This is all development and progress that we do not realize as it is gradually happening in front of our eyes everyday.

I can sit with a group of friends and debate or argue certain issues recognizing the fact they understand the background I am coming from. I have learned how it feels to say something that you truly believe in and for people to understand and relate to you. For me, it is the small things that have dramatically triggered a happier lifestyle. I can go out with the girls and know we have to return early and the place needs to be appropriate because there is something that we all share in common and agree that they are ‘morally right’.

No matter how long I lived abroad and the large extent to which my family was open minded and understanding, at the end of the day I was a Kurdish girl. To be back in Kurdistan has made me proud of this, true, one can not deny the many issues and dilemmas our society is confronted with, nonetheless, from experience nothing is comparable to living in your own society within your own people.

It is a little peculiar and comical for me to write this, but at times with the many Kurdish people I meet I sense a feeling of belonging, a strange perception that they are relatives or part of an extended family for me. This I could never have experienced abroad. The lonely feeling of walking in the local bizarre and hearing people speak Kurdish still evokes an ecstatic sensation.

When I sit and think, I myself, find it remarkable that I find so much contentment in the simple aspects of life here in Kurdistan to the indulgence of a western developed country. At the same time I feel privileged to have lived a life far from Kurdistan, as it makes me find and realize this happiness.

(A recent article of mine.. By Sazan M. Mandalawi)

Halabja

Our class trip to Halabja...

A memory to be remembered...

In Security Studies with our professor Caterina Tsoukala we went on a trip to Halabja, in the exact place where thousands died as a result of Saddam's Chemical weapons. it was over four hours drive to Halabja, as we drove through Koya and Sulaimani. We had an 'unsteady' start with the girls arriving almost 45 minutes after the set time, but the rest of the day went better than what we had hoped for. The experience was beyond words- laughter, tears, dancing, singing - we did it all. After lunch in the local restaurant (what else but Kurdish KEBABS!!) we set straight to the Halabja Cemetry, it is still under construction, yet we were all touched as the bus entered the large gates- THE SIGN SAID IT ALL:

It was tears and emotions of devastation. I learned hearing and reading is one thing, nonetheless, to listen and see is completely another. To watch the sea of graves, each with more that one person, some families of six and seven. Brothers and sisters, relatives, aunts, uncles and cousins...What caught my attention the most, was at mid-day prayer time. A local elderly man went and prayed by a group of graves... It was not difficult to guess he was a survivor of the catastrophe of March 16, 1988. This is the only place he could come and feel close to the ones he lost. Even for survivors, as we learned, the wound is deep, has not heal and never will...Two little boys with their note books were sitting near a mass grave... I asked if they knew about the catastophe. I was struck to realize these two youngsters shared deep emotions and beliefs regarding this genocide that has left everyone affected.This is a very well-known photographic picture that has been transformed into a sculpture. It is an elderly man in his traditional Kurdish clothing, who died tring to protect a baby child held tightly between his arms. We met the father of one of our students in University. He is one of the survivors living in Halabja. His eye witness account brough many of us to tears. Up to today, it was evident this elderly man is affected in every day of his life by a horrific past. He temporary blindness of his children and running into the basement for protection. He spoke of 136 members of his own relatives dying as a result of the catastrophic event. He expressed of his grief and wounds through tears as he recalled a small section of his never ending story.

As Halabja is in the process of being rebuilt, 20 years after the deadly commemoration I am hurt to see little is done for the innocent people. Whilst I am not entirely sure of any compensation but the way of life is still devasting to witness. I hope to return one day and see Halabja in better shape. It is a beautiful area, despite all its beauty during the day I spent there, you can not feel anything but gloom and sadness. The atmosphere itself is hard to live. Simply, because on those rocks that you step on, the streets you walking in, the houses you see... children died in pain, families suffered until their last breath. They were victims of an atrocious Baath political party, they were killed simply because they were Kurd. They committed no crime, they did not hurt a single person. What is the guilt of an innocent child, who knows nothing of this world, what is the guilt of a mother who lived for her children or a father who worked hard to bring food home that evening.... these people were victims of a genocide, that up to today we fail to show the world just how devasting the Halabja incident of 1988 really isOn the way back we stopped by a sculpture... the story behind this is very touching. Two young children; brother and sister. Were on the way to school in a winter's day, they were lost on the way and froze to death... Just another small story with a rich background.

Sazan Madhi Mandalawi

November 15, 2008

"No friends but the mountains"

I had saved a large collection of beautiful sceneries and views of Kurdistan, these are just a few...it is breath taking natural beauty?

Please note: All pictures were taken by Shivan Sito shivan@hotmail.com
With much appreciation

Univeristy Life

Above: Students of Politics & International Relations (all but Jang & Lana) with our proffesor of History of Political thought- Dr. Greaves

Having returned from such a beautiful country such as Australia, today I proudly say "I am lucky to be in Kurdistan!"
Many would consider this remark naive and to a degree foolish of me. However, living amongst people of my own background, culture and people who understand me for me is like a dream come true. I will not deny the fact that if I sit and compare 'there' with 'here' there difference is enormous, and of course, life 'there' when compared to the region can be described as more than perfect. Despite this, something inside me does not want to return to my second home- not just in another country, but another continent- Aussie Land!!

I miss it.

But my life here is more energetic, diverse and special. I lived many years as 'the foreigner'. I had wonderful friends and lived in a very friendly atmosphere. Nevertheless, I could not fit in. I was not one of them, and I could never be. No matter what I did, I was different and no matter what they did sometimes it was hard to understand me.

I was brought up in a small family where from a young age I was taught what it meant to be a Kurd, my father would spend hours telling us stories of his experiences and the past of Kurdish people. Even living far from home, we were made to watch videos our relatives sent of weddings and other special celebrations. I was taught why I was a Muslim, and how I was a Kurd. I often try to think how I have deep emotions to a nation that I have only lived in during my early childhood...

Having this tie to your roots in any country it is difficult to manage every day life. Life becomes a routine, I personally found difficulties to engage with the wider community despite my friendly nature... no matter what I did contentment sometimes just didn't come to me. Often I would speak of our culture and beliefs to the girls, even though they never said anything, deeper inside I felt my reasons did not make any sense in their minds.

When I think back now, at that delicate and sensitive age, especially teenage years, I admit I at times did now have the 'courage' to stand up and say that’s who I am.

Coming back to Kurdistan was not all sweet for me (in fact the first year of my life back here can no even be described in a nightmare… but we shall leave that for another blog!!) now, I do not regret a single second. When I sit and engage in a discussion amongst my peers the feeling is unbelievable. I can express, and even if there is no agreement they understand where I come from. I can talk and they realize what I mean, because they share my background, they know the culture; they know what I see as ‘morally’ accepted or unaccepted.

This may mean nothing, but for a young Kurdish girl who was brought up far from her own soil the feeling is much beyond description and words. Inside I often feel I had a jar and the lid was on, now it is all bursting out. It is by no means all delightful but university life in Kurdistan, for me, is indeed a learning experience like no other.

No matter how much I am open minded, flexible and tolerant of all cultures, beliefs and in many issues. I am a Kurd, I often talk with emotions and no rational or logical thought, I talk from the heart and some times give no reasonable or scientific justification. But I am proud to be just that. I am proud to have fond to these traditions to these values, some of which have been passed down from many generations before.

To end… all I can say is that no matter where I was, (on the other side of the globe & hemisphere) home is home. My home may not be perfect but the beauties it offers me is enough to keep me happy… meanwhile Dr. Greaves lesson today was rather difficult to grasp- Aristotle, My telos is living happily in my home country, hehehehehe I think I have learned something today, it really does allow for your mind to wake up and function!!

Sazan Mandalawi