Jezhn is here!!

Jezhntan Pirozbet!!
Happy Jezhn/ Eid




We broke our last fast today and it was officially announced on national television that tomorrow is Eid-el-ftr or Jezhn—in Kurdish!


Had a chance to drive around Erbil with mum late this evening, the atmosphere and spirit of the Jezhn festivity is evident around Erbil. People all appear very excited, music in the cars, people dressed in fancy clothing, people running around for last minute shopping, mothers planning the food for early morning, little kids excited for the Jezhnana and most importantly the spirit of giving and sharing is what I most appreciate about the Kurds during this special time.

Last night it rained in Erbil and the weather is SUPERB—a great welcome to the Jezhn celebrations, so happy to be living here and experiencing this wonderful occasion. Living years away from home, we never really noticed what Jezhn was or even felt the occasion—it was no different to any regular day.

Finally, happy Jezhn to all—for all those living abroad, I wish that next Jezhn you can celebrate back home in Kurdistan(weather you like it or not—hhhh)

09/09/09 at 09:09 PM

09/09/09 at 09:09 PM



I had to blog today, for only two reasons, because it is a very special day- this day will only happen once in a life time and I was so glad to be living it..!!
I made sure it was special and unforgettable, as I went for a blood test—needed some check ups and I had been horrified for weeks until finally I made the decision to go, I could not dare have a test in Erbil’s Medical Road (share3 atuba) so instead I went to the new MDC (Mediya Diagnostic Center) opposite New City in Hawler. And boy am I glad I made that decision..

I admit I am a baby when it comes to needles but I made it through without a scream—(but some tears) the important point is that I am so glad that there is such clean medical center in Erbil, that you feel confident going into, knowing you will get what you want and you will be looked after very well.
I felt I was in Australia or any other developed country in the world. The place was very clean and tidy, the people were very nice (most of the staff were females) and the medicine and materials needed for the tests have all been imported from overseas.

Guess what?? I even got my favorite caramel chocolate once I was done giving the blood samples.
Once again, there is no place like home, no place like Kurdistan!!!
P.S I am getting my pet squirrel from Mandaly later this week, so follow up for pictures and a blog entry on that. Already excited, even though I have never had a pet squirrel before!!


(hope I can make another entry on the 10/10/010 at 10:10 PM) we shall wait and see..)

First Birthday

First Birthday



I do not really know how many regular readers I have; hundreds or just a few, but during the last year I have had just over 1000 visitors to my profile page, and I am over the moon about that; if 10 of that 1000 read one of my pieces it gives me the encouragement to continue writing for another 10 years!
This month I celebrate exactly ONE YEAR of blogging— exactly one year ago I decided to start a blog about life in Kurdistan- through the eyes of a Kurdish girl. I focused on the beauties of home.

I must admit I did not blog often, and there is no excuse as to why, for me this was a big year, I began a weekly column with the Kurdish Globe, started volunteering at the START Social Development Organization, and was active with youth activities in the community, above all that I have this blog that I update with something new whenever I have the chance. I sit and think how lucky am I to do all these things which I enjoy so much, here in Kurdistan. I have come to realize and be persuaded from my heart that despite all the difficulties we face here; we still lead lives that is filled with color, enjoyment everyday there is something new and interesting that is happening.

My wish for my blog this year is to write more- one entry a week (at least) and add more pictures with each entry (must start carrying a camera with me where ever I go). Other than that I hope all you readers ([MUM]!!) keep reading.
So Happy Birthday to my blog—that is, my ‘ONE-YEAR-OLD’ blog; as we say here in Kurdistan inshAllah sad sal
----

Kurdish man's best friend...!!

So the old saying goes: “Dogs are a man’s best friend”, that, my dear reader can be applied anywhere in the world, but one would only be foolish to acquaint a Kurdish man’s best friend with a dog. From much thinking and analyzing and with living experience with Kurdish men, I have finally completed my list. So what would be the best friend of a Kurdish man? Surely not a dog, nor is it gold-- like their female counterparts.


Being the eldest and the only girl in the family, the love I earn from my father is boundless, yet I must admit, at times there are two, as a matter of fact, now three others in the house who I am disgracefully jealous of—the attention and love they receive from him is as if they were born years before I was.
This morning, like all other mornings he’s awake at least forty-five minutes earlier than the time he needs to wake up for work. It takes my father a quarter of an hour to make breakfast for Shalan, Dalan and baby Xapan (or Xapo). They are on a healthy diet; orange, apple, cucumber, tomatoes and only red capsicum and ripe dates.
They are also picky and do not drink tea, so instead they prefer cool water; and how can I forget that the bread must be minced thoroughly of equal sizes, if measured, the dimensions would probably be exact; this should first be soaked in a little bit of water and a pinch of sugar to sweeten it up. All this fuss and these three eat like birds. Amusingly, that is because they are birds!!

If he is not at work, or writing then his time is spent with these three small birds; he cares for them, feeds them, lets them fly around the house freely (pooping wherever pleases them) and he is a doctor when they break their legs or wings. The cages are cleaned every day, with fresh food. They sing to him, they sit on his shoulders; they nip on his hands and flatter their wings. When he is feeling angry they calm him down, when his joyful they complete his happiness, and when he is tired they are his remedy to unwind. After all, they are his best friends!
Prior to taking any family trip that will last few days, there is always a warning “do not bring too many things—there is no room” as soon as a I enter the car I see the guests are there before me, the back seats are put down to make room for two cages- and I realize one again I will be deadened the entire journey with the endless tweeting sounds coming from the back. It would not be as bad if we had two sets of 2 year-old twins at the back.


A story that runs in our family is of a man from Mandaly, and lived in Baghdad; he was deported to Iran in the 1980s with the many other Kurds, under the Hussein regime. His house, belongings, money, documents and even clothes were confiscated as he was forced to leave his house and dropped on the border of Iran. He refused to leave his house if he could not take his bird with him. He insisted, the bird, too, had to be deported with his family making the point he was part of the family. Having no other option the authorities allowed him to take the bird along, two decades later the old man died and so did the bird, but the message is that the love and connection is plainly as strong as iron.
Any person can reflect on their father or grandfather polishing a cherished gun or a small sword reminding them of ‘those days’, but fortunately today weaponry is not the best friend of the Kurd, but it remains a hobby or a favorite past time. Many Kurdish men have also a hobby of collecting rosary—in all their shapes, sizes, colors and textures. Some of them have very specific stories behind them, others made of simple beads but some men cannot leave the house without the rosary in one of their hands.

Posing the question to some friends about the best friend of a Kurdish man, one reply was ‘eeer… his AK-74’ another one said ‘dancing’ and a few others suggested nature. All proposals seem to be appropriate associations!
I would not be naive to believe a young Kurdish infant performs his first dancing steps from the time he is still in his mother’s womb-- that is, the traditional Halparke dance. As much of a professional dancer you maybe, it is incomparable to the way a Kurdish man dances; the way the feet, shoulders and the rest of the body liaise in the traditional dancing is remarkable. But to disseminate a Kurdish man with only dancing you will be underrating his many other talents.
The guys working in the Globe prefer driving over 25 minutes to outside Erbil to literally be in the middle of nowhere to work on the paper instead of the local office around the corner to many of us—this is because the other is surrounded by green scenery and oversees some trees and bushes.


Finally a Kurdish man’s best friend all comes back to nature. In nature he uses his AK-74, in nature he observes the birds, in nature he enjoys to read and work, in nature he plays music and begins to dance on mountain tops and it is in nature that he finds his inner happiness. Nature is their medicine!

Sazan M. Mandalawi published issue 223 www.kurdishglobe.net

Ramadan in Kurdistan

The taste of starvation


“Hungryyy!!” that is me winging and moaning in Ramadan, as the students eat their salad sandwiches, that is, if I were in Australia, in Kurdistan the story is different—in fact, very different.
The most festive season on the Muslim calendar is this holy month of Ramadan; and how glad I am to spend this time of year in Kurdistan. Whilst the weather is not really of good help and the hours are very long, still, there is a special taste that cannot be felt or experienced abroad.

I remember in high school if you said ‘I am fasting’ they would feel sorry for you and offer water, ‘I can’t have water either’ would be the general reply. Many would not understand the logistic explanation as to why we deprive ourselves from any food from sunrise to sunset, despite the fact that the forty-hour-famine was popular at that time-- many young people took on the challenge.
Personally, I am enjoying the time of Ramadan back home, in Kurdistan. There is a tendency of a particular sentiment that is difficult for an average person to realize, unless they have lived abroad.

No one would imagine that fasting can be enjoyable—but in Kurdistan it can be. The fact that people all of the sudden become closer to God, begin to pray with consistency, the young wear veils and covered up more and the curtains around the restaurants are all signs of respect and value to this holy month.
Many people have come to believe that the development and advancement that have come with the phenomenon of technology and democracy means that we abandon our religious values. Nevertheless, whilst religion remains a personal decision it is sometimes worthy to celebrate events such as Ramadan, as a wider community. It is by no means a political matter, but a cultural theme that creates vibrancy and connection amongst different people in our society.

There is something special about the small dish of soup the neighbor brings for you right before you can finally eat at the end of a long fasting day; the sound of the Quran on television as the family prepares the dinner table; the uncles and aunts who have come to break their fast with your family; the daunting hours in the early morning waking up to eat as a family. The aroma of mother’s cooked rice during the evening prayer before and the unity of the entire family before having a piece of date to break your fast is a rare sentiment to experience living abroad.
All this on one hand, but the most important on the other; any Muslim will tell you that praying in the holy month is unlike any prayer in any time of the year-- there is a feeling of purity and inner sanity.
In Kurdistan you do not have to sit and explain to anyone why starving yourself is not foolish and how there is a purpose behind it all. Just as you step foot outside the house you can feel the sentiment in the atmosphere that people are fasting, even those who do not fast for their own reasons there is respect towards those who do choose to fast, for example, no one eats in front of the public during the fasting hours.
Ramadan is not just a month to lose weight; we become better individuals with the ability to think of others who are not as lucky as we are. For a month we can feel the pain of the poor, the grief of a family with no bread for dinner, the agony of hunger and more importantly to not take any simple aspect of our life for granted, and begin to think of others.

What is amazing about Kurdistan is that those that you least expect to fast are actually fasting; they are or not, that is not the point, the point is that people respect a time of year as a society and community.

In reality the actual fasting is only two weeks, the first week is filled with excitement as it is just the start, the middle two are a little tiring, the final week is when it reaches climax and ends with a blink of an eye as people begin to prepare themselves for the ‘Jezhn’ celebrations to mark the end of the holy month.
In Kurdistan, during Ramadan, you do not just taste hunger and starvation but an array of sensations from the unique family bond, the prayers, the sound of Quran; the atmosphere outside the house, the generosity of the people and the general respect and attitude towards this special time on the Muslim calendar.

Must admit, all these sentiments does not conceal the stomach rumbling sound, but it does reduce its irritation. Meanwhile, Four days down, 26 to go… Ramazantan Pirozbet!

by Sazan M. Mandalawi- published in www.kurdishglobe.net

Kurdistan's nature is the best medicine

Nature is the best medicine..

Laying down under the shade of many trees and looking directly up into branches that lightly sway, the gentle sound of water flowing, and a breeze making you shiver just a little. Whilst some say laughter is the best medicine, I say the better medicine is Kurdistan’s natural beauty.
The sticky and sweaty afternoons, the sizzling sun, and of course the dust storms is all too much to a city that is overloaded in cars—taking a trip from Erbil all the way to the Iran border of Haji Omran and back at the end of the election week was definitely a mental and psychological revitalization, if it were possible a brain scan of before and after would reveal a great transformation.
I must admit having lived all my life in major cities, and being used to the noisy environment of hectic life with office hours, traffic lights, students loaded with overdue assessments and catching up with the latest catastrophes the world is experiencing on Aljazeera and CNN life can be congested compared to our small bodies and overworking brains. Being driven through mountains, trees, and certain geographic features of the landscape that cannot be unraveled by the naked eye, one must believe the existence of a great kind above who has put all this together.
The 16 hour trip from sunrise to … well, moon rise was not the typical Kurdish picnic just lagging behind the Erbil checkpoint with loud music till your ears pop and return home with stitches because of all the dancing, it was what I call a recovery, five star, end of week paradise that I recommend to all those living a frenzied life with a daily routine in the city.
It was an experience of everything; from drinking the Sheikh’s water in Haji Omran (that is known to be good for the kidney); to tasting the core of edible wild flowers and eating handpicked ripe, juicy and unwashed berries; seeing divine insects (that is, other than ants and cockroaches) and losing a contest of ‘who can leave their feet the longest in the icy cold water.”
It is amazing the amount of water that flows through Kurdistan, literally some flowing from nowhere, walking through flowing cold water with colorful rocks, plants of all types and surrounded by green leaves and plants for as far as your eyes can reach in all directions has become one of my favorite hobbies.
I noticed the people who live in those areas are politer than we are, and thankful for everything they have, I realized our wants has exceeded our needs and when we have what we want we seem to continue to want more- selfish and snobby is what we turn to be. Looking outside the window into the full moon on the way back home I reminded myself of how young people, like myself have become too carried away with submerging our live with what is going on in the rest of the world; what is newest mobile phone; the top rated YouTube video; what type of bear Obama drink in the backyard meeting and how many million will Mrs. Jackson inherit.

Whilst I am all for the development of technology and progress of society, has it reached out of proportion? If it has not today, then tomorrow it will explode off proportion. Before birds were used to transport letters, now they are hunted for a sport; there was a time when lovers wrote with feathers to each other, then there came a time when they make up and break up by a text message. Visiting a friend to see how life is treating them and what is their latest development is now unnecessary- after all there is always facebook! People used to celebrate the food they ate, the taste it has and indulge in the flavors, whereas today we have become image conscious.
Visiting Kurdistan’s natural beauty, makes you yearn for a simpler life that is trouble free, away from the chaos of the world and the stress of what has to be done by tomorrow. A day spent by flowing waters, waterfalls, trees, mountains, and moments shared with those you love ought to be the best medicine.
As you pack for this weekend, do not forget the spare batteries for the camera and extra sandals—incase one flows away.

by Sazan Mandalawi- published in the Kurdish Globe (August, 09)

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