This is my success.

This is how most of my articles were written (above is me)

To the greatest, sweetest, most amazing blog reader in the world (Yes YOU!) I am writing to you at exactly 3:30 a.m. not with a smile on my face, but with a smiling heart, a tearful eye and a feeling that I have never felt before. Ok. Ok. I will get to the point.

About a year ago, I found out that a Kurdish prisoner in the US was reading my articles in the Globe, so every now and then I attached pdf files of the paper to one of the staff members and asked her to print it off and pass it to the prisoner. I didn't know what his crime was. All I knew was this prisoner enjoyed my articles and had a family. A few weeks back I resigned from the Kurdish Globe and wrote my last Memoirs weekly column titled "Good Bye" little did I know that the prisoner had a subscription to the Globe and was not missing a single piece of my article every week. I hadn't been sending any pdf files through for few months, I was carried away with deadline and research (I know, no excuse... but loyal readers are just so great at being loyal).

Tonight. I finished one of my final papers and returned from the library under the rain in a good mood (in fact a rather brilliant mood for a person who had spent the past 15 hours behind a computer in a library. I returned singing yaran wasyatm under the rain) Little did I know I will read an email that will influence me so deeply as soon as I get to my humble little room. I am going to share the email with you (but please respect the fact that I won't include any names to preserve the anonymity).

I was writing about Kurds, Kurdistan and my life as a young girl who returned home after years abroad.  I wrote and often had no idea who was reading my words. Sometimes I wrote as if no one would read what I was feeling and what went through my mind. Little did I know, someone, somewhere, behind bars was reading my words. I don't know who this person is, or what his crime is, but what I do know is that a Kurd, even in a prison cell, felt free in the few minutes each week spent reading an article that I happen to have written somewhere outside, in the open.

Unimaginable, how I spoke of freedom and flying, and my reader was in a prison cell. Unimaginable, how I wrote of returning back to Kurdistan, serving our nation and my reader was locked unable to even walk to the place I call home. Just Unimaginable.

If after three years of writing every single week, I managed to make a single Kurd in a prison cell, continents away from home smile, and think positive thoughts then my dearest reader, for me that is the greatest success I could ever ask for.
*****************
"Dear Mastawchi (my too optimistic, too dreamy and beloved sister),
I am very sorry that you left your Kurdish Globe readers. Your goodbye was very sad news to me, when I read it it brought tears to my eyes. I am a Kurd spending time in a U.S. prison for a crime I never committed. For the last two years (since I’ve received Kurdish Globe) your memories many times made me smile, other times brought tears to my eyes, but were always inspiration. Most of the time I had feelings and thoughts similar to yours. Whenever I received Kurdish Globe I always ran to the last page to read your memories, I never started from the first page! And I am positive many other readers did the same. You educated many people about our culture and showed them the bright part of Kurdish life and customs. You taught Kurdish children and youth abroad to love their nation and belong to it proudly, you helped them learn many Kurdish words and celebrate all the Kurdish occasions. Being optimistic and dreaming for a bright future is not a crime! But I am sorry there are people who never learned from decades, even a century of conflict, to overcome that past and forget those bitter memories, so they still push our nation toward another war. They teach hate and racism and think that is being a "patriot." I am very sorry they accused you of being mastawchi, "too dreamy" and "too optimistic." But please do not allow that to slow you down. I beg you, please print and publish your memories as soon as possible, and let our children see the bright part of our culture, to love Kurdish life and people, to stay optimistic and dream big, to live and grow in peace. I am sure they will benefit and learn from it, and it will help the entire world to know more about our culture.
For sure, many Kurdish Globe readers, and myself, are going to miss your memories, but as you said, "This is life," and sometimes we are forced to say goodbye to those we love. No one has shed more tears than a Kurd for saying such goodbyes.
Please keep writing. Mastaw is our national Kurdish drink, all Kurds love mastaw, and your memories were our mastaw. Many Kurds like myself who live in handaran, far away from our beloved land, love it and drink it. That is the mastaw you made, and that is why I call you mastawchi. But the way they meant it is not fair, because whoever reads your memories knows you are not that kind of mastawchi!
Please always be optimistic and show the beauty of life to the world, keep dreaming, and dream too much! If that is mastawchi, then I am just another mastawchi like you.
Sincerely,
            "

the email that came with it was this:

"Dear Sazan,
I hope you remember me, I'm the one to whom you were sending issues of Kurdish Globe, so I could then send them to                     (a Kurdish prisoner here in the U.S.,                      and to his wife, who still lives in               . A few weeks ago (April 13),                  wrote me and said that he knew, from reading Kurdish Globe, that you were leaving your job there. He was very sorry to hear that, and he attached the following letter just for you. He is a fan of yours! (I fixed up his English grammar a little bit, but I didn't touch any of the Kurdish words, as per his instructions!) I guess he has a subscription to Kurdish Globe, but I gave copies of all the issues you sent to                's wife, and now he says he's going to send his issues to his daughter, who will enjoy them (she's 16). I am very sorry that you've left your job, but I know you're involved in many, many other activities, and I'm sure you are spending your time with them! Thank you so much for your kindness in sending the issues of Kurdish Globe to me, and on behalf of               and his family I wish you much success in the future.
My best to you,
                    "\  "

Returning to Kurdistan? Here are ten 911 tips

The view when you land in Erbil International Airport (EIA)

Today, looking like a proper monster sitting on my bed with papers, books, pens and highlighters everywhere*. Hair looking like an un-groomed lion's mane - no in fact that looks much better - dark circles, it's past 7pm and been in my pajamas all day... it has been productive, kind of... well I have started one of the three final papers I have due after the Easter Holiday. ANY WAY. The point is, I get a Twitter notification from one of the #TwitterKurds (by the way us, #TwitterKurds have become like a family, you know close brothers and sisters, Kurdistan is our parent!) the simple sentence read: "Finally I will be back to the nest! :) I have resigned from XXXX in YYYYY and decided to go home for good!! I am very excited!!" I swear this made my day. Kurdistan is going to have one of its kids back, one more expert, one more role model, one more person to serve and make a change, one more person to help in the building blocks of our nation.

So... here are some 911 tips I have put together for my friend and anyone else whose going to make me proud and decide to return to Kurdistan for good:

1. Try to blend in, because everything you do and say counts differently because you are "awropi" (your actions will be closely observed, and admired, because somehow everyone in your family sees you as a role model) try to be 'xomani' more, meaning: Don't eat shooti (watermelon) with a fork and certainly do not complain about having too many calories in the food.

2. Rehearse the answers to these two questions as if you were sitting in your PhD viva: Firstly, Why did you come back?  and secondly, "So where do you like more, here or there!" I gave you the question that will be in the examination , so  I will leave you to formulate your own analalytical response.

3. Remember this is not the UK, so if you send an email to your new boss or a colleague do call them and say that you have sent them an email. Otherwise don't expect a reply. (By the way, for your information Korek has this service where you can take phone balance from your siblings.)

4. Have many chill pills with you, because there are always people who expect great results but are not willing to put in the effort (you will bump into few of them) ... but don't be frustrated, this is why you are there, so that you can change this and contribute to developing this society.

5. If you're a girl, and not interested in any unwanted attention then wear decent clothing. Best if long pants for work, short sleeve is fine but not too open a the front. Dresses or skirts above the knees is sometimes fine, but it will only make you feel like you are Miss Universe on the catwalk. :)

Sometimes you need to cross your legs, sit on the ground and eat with your hands.

6. If you like to keep fit my advice is the second day after you land go and become a member at the local gym (many options available including huge fitness center just outside Ainkawa, Harveen, and Blue Center are alternatives too) otherwise all your life's achievements at the gym will go to waste in two weeks. Everyone is going to invite you for dinner. Even if they don't invite you, my dear friend you will eat like there is no tomorrow, because poor you who has lived on toast and canned beans for as long as you remember will not be able to resist sitting in front of a big sini of yaprax (dolma) with lots of nana tiri next to it. Oh how can I forget and lots of oily paqla at the base.

7. If you're single, then before your plane lands your mum and sisters will have found you many brides, and will probably want you to start seeing them one by one starting from tomorrow. Or even better they will take you to every single wedding and point at every single beautiful girl. I'm sorry, can't offer any advice here. My role is only to prepare you!

8. You will go back, and land with a job that will probably be half of what you are paid here but you will have to work much harder to prove yourself and 'fix' the situation. But there will always be times where you will feel like no one appreciates you.  This is normal. My advice? Prove you are stronger than all the forces that will be blowing like strong wind against you- you can always keep a blog!

9. There will be times when you are going to miss watching a movie online or dread waiting for 15 minutes for a 10 minute video to load on Youtube. You will miss the fast internet connection and the wireless where ever you go. At times like this there is always Divan hotel (oh so posh!) and Costa [Ricca].

10. Finally be ready to listen, eat, sleep, think and talk politics. Every single person from the taxi driver, your hair dresser to the dinner gatherings at your place everyone has a political opinion.

As for my dear, loyal Twitter friend who is going back to Kurdistan and leaving the life of the west, all I can say is: Fly to the nest, fly with your wings wide... fly my friend, for the nest is waiting for you.

sar sarw sar chaw!!
You are going to love Kurdish hospitality

*And Lots and Lots and Lots of Ferrero Rochers, but don't tell mum, she will simply call and say: "You can't live on chocolate, kchm xwardn bxo, xwardn!!

Ribbons for Halabja

One ribbon for Halabja, one of my dreams tied with it.....

To the dearest, most loyal blog reader in the world....

Tonight, I am sitting on my bed; away from family, relatives, and friends, far from everything, and certainly very far away from Halabja.

24 years ago, little children went to sleep tonight, they did not know that tomorrow when they wake up around 11 am the first breath of oxygen they inhaled would kill them right away. Tonight, I sleep on the eve of March 15 feeling depressed, almost suffocating.

The Halabja massacre took place a year before my birth. My father always told me that 35 young girls with the name of Sazan died in the chemical attacks of Halabja. A year later, when I was born, when dad held for the first time a tiny baby girl he says he remembered the 35 little ones who had lost their lives. He named me Sazan and dreamed for me to regain the lost rights of those 35 young girls.

Tonight, in preparation for tomorrow's commemoration I am cutting ribbons. Making sure each is equal size to the other, turning one end onto the other and then pinning the center. I worked on these for few hours, making the most number I possibly could to give out at our little ceremony and to anyone else I see at university.

With each clip of the scissors going through the thin, silky, black ribbon it is like a stab in me. I feel guilt. What have I done for Halabja? What have I contributed in the rebuilding, in healing of wounds, in lending a hand, in making children smile? I still haven't lived my father's dream in giving back to the 35 girls who I was named after.

I remember a visit to Halabja once with our university friends. Kak Harman, originally from Halabja led this trip, he took us to his family home. In the yard we sat down in a circle around his elderly father. He told his story, it was as if it happened the day before, he could see the details as he spoke. My colleague was lucky to live, but many of his relatives and friends were martyred. I recall looking at my colleague's father as he spoke, an elderly man as strong and as resilient as him had tearful eyes.

Halabja, I realize is the weakness of every Kurd. No man is strong enough to talk about it without tears; no mother can speak of Halabja without her chin mumbling before her head falls into the palm of her hands as she begins to cry.

You may wonder how this affects me. A Kurdish girl on the other side of the world chasing my dreams, Halabja I feel is my family. Those who left are my brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts. I am living my life today, but they paid the high price. Martyrs whose soul I pray for. But there is ghost over me, every year this time I am reminded that I have done nothing.

We all owe something to Halabja. We all have the obligation to contribute, to pay back in the many ways that we can. It is our duty to stand up, talk, shout and take action to bring the life to Halabja and its people, the life and future that it deserves.

With each ribbon I cut, I have a dream. A dream for the best schools to educate children in Halabja, a dream for the government to support local production, a dream for the new generation born with physical defects as a result of the attacks to undergo surgery for free, a dream for every father in Halabja to sleep without worrying for the future of his children and as I pin the last ribbon for tomorrow, I dream that one day I can feel the souls of those 35 girls proud of me, and of all Kurdish girls who lived after them. For me, right now, cutting black ribbons seems like I am only fooling myself. Though I know if by tomorrow one new person knows about the massacre of Halabja it means something grand.

My words on International Women's Day 2012

Dearest, most loyal reader...

The girls and I at the end of one of the sessions

Do you remember how once, late at night I couldn't sleep, so I wrote "It is my time" and less than two months later I wrote "My dream is for their dreams"  I wrote of how the idea came to me to undertake small group discussions and workshops for young girls in underprivilged areas in the city I was living in. Up to today, no matter what I do, and no matter what happens, deep down inside those days are probably the rare occasions in my life that I have felt "Yes! I have achieved something." After every four hour session with each of the girls I felt a change, four hours went a long way in the life of these girls. I felt loved among them, and it was difficult waving goodbye for the few girls who always remained behind and never left, until I left first. After a while I got close to these young woman, a connection was formed, I understood them more than anyone, as they found it easy to open up to me and express themselves. Either because I gave them the chance, or they could relate to me.

The girls in their group work mission

 I still remember when I asked the girls about their plans after school, one of the girls didn't look forward to completing her studies because she was going to get married immediately after. It was family arranged for her to marry a relative as soon as she finished her school.

I still remember the girl who said she wanted to be a police woman, but her family refused.

I still recall in my mind when the girls had a discussion among themselves and said they wished to just go out with few friends somewhere-- without their mothers' company.

This was one of the more serious sessions, where as a group we would listen to each other and provide possible solutions. The girls expressed their thoughts, experiences and emotions to me in many unbelievable ways. (Left is me, trying to take in what I was hearing. I know what it was.)

As I was packing my papers to the car, I still remember one of the girls who wouldn't disappear from my eye sight, it was clear she wanted to speak to me away from everyone else. I gave her the chance to by the car, she didn't hesitate to share with me a major dilemma in her life. "Please tell me what to do" still echoes in my ears. Before we managed to solve the matter a teacher came and told her off for 'bothering' me. Which I found ridiculous because I was there for those girls anyway.

I remember very well for weeks on my desk at work I had the hand written words of these girls who wrote on a piece of paper that "Bale" (yes) "I am circumcizes" they had undergone Female Genital Mutilation when they were young. How I wished to make a session for the girls just to discuss this matter, but at the time the situation didn't help at all.

This is probably the extreme end of the young girls we have in Kurdistan. I purposely chose to visit the most underprivileged areas in the city of Erbil. There is no doubt that right now, girls as such as a minority when compared to the bigger picture. However, it is the voices of these young woman I want to make heard. I want their opinions, way of life and thoughts to be shown to the bigger Kurdistan, so that we can help to build better lifes for them.

I enjoy working with such girls the most. I enjoy working in these circumstances more than anyother. It was these times I loved most, more than going to conferences and meetings. However, with this experience, I could sit around a table and say A LOT. But as much as I say, I have to wait a long time till I see a change. However, in my little sessions in an old, small room somewhere in an ancient girls' school in a unfortunate area of Erbil all it takes is four hours to see a little change that goes a long way.... I like to see results. Immediately.

One day with young girls on an old library floor, and another with elder women in a fancy hotel conference room. I realize in Kurdistan you need to balance the two in order to make a change. Work with the ordinary people but have a voice among the decision makers. (Me on the right in a conference undertaken by Kvinna Til Kvinna)

I am excited to return back home, and once again begin this initiative, this time my friends Bewar and Ashna will be by my side, and as usual START will support. START has always welcomed my ideas, supported me and helped when I was stuck.

Finally, before I sign off, I can't let this special day pass without congratulating Pura Gulizard, only God knows how much I miss this friend of mine who lives in the elderly people's home in Erbil.

I swear I tried fixing the pictures, it didn't work. Anyhow, turn your computers around, this is Pura Gulizard. Someone who always manages to make me smile... and cry at the same time.

Lets go to school in Kurdistan

To the world's most loyal blog reader,

First of all before you do your glayee (which is basically you complaining why I haven't blogged for a while) let me explain. I have been busy with courses, modules, essays etc... and also I sometimes write in Tasbeeh & Chay.

Anyhow…

Recently I received an email from someone who said she was returning to Kurdistan and she was worried, mostly about schools. So, this blog is not only for my blog reader who asked me to tell her a little about what to expect when she returns, but also any of you who are planning to make a return back HOME. And yes it is home.

With any return back to Kurdistan the number one concern of families is "manalakan… ay maktabakayan chon?" (children, how about their schooling?) does that sentence sound familiar? Funny enough in every house hold when the subject of returning to Kurdistan opens this becomes the number one concern of so many parents, and for that matter the kids too.

I don't want to make it seem like a nightmare, but unfortunately for pubic schools the conclusion one can make is that schools are not always fun, there is a lot of pressure on students and most of the learning is off the text book. The only method of testing are examinations and too often to succeed one starts paying for a private tutor. However, there is a bright side.

Today in Kurdistan there are many English schools, though the system is different to a degree, in fact it can be entirely different. However, it is not impossible to manage and many go through successfully. Now it is much better than six years ago when I first returned. There are different options when it comes to schools- some are elegant, expensive and are described to be military-like. This is probably the schools where all the children of businessmen and leaders. Nevertheless, there are others which are quiet decent but you just have to learn a few other languages along the way. This means you need to take a Kurdish and an Arabic class (and Turkish sometimes), though the subjects are all tMany of my friends have gone through these types of schools in Kurdistan, I must admit they have great jobs at the moment and they can speak and write three or four languages fluently- including English.

Schools should no longer be an issue when a family moves back to Kurdistan, at least not as a great issue as it was few years back. The interesting part is that there are also universities at the moment. There is a long list of English-teaching universities in Kurdistan, though the best of the list remain to be the American University in Sulaimaniya (Slemani) known as the AUIS and The University of Kurdistan- Hawler, which I believe is the best in all of Iraq. Here, education is entirely in English, exams, essays, assignments you name it. Nearly all the lecturers are either international or have completed their degrees abroad.  

So…. Next time you think school and university is a reason why you don't want to return to Kurdistan, think again. There are options… the experience of schooling and education back home has its own beauty.  

You haven't met Ashna?! NO WAY!!

GUEST BLOGGER

To the greatest, dearest, most special blog reader in the world,

Ashna

Why? (of course, other than the fact that of all the things in the world you can do right now you've chosen to be on mandalawi.blogspot) because you are about to meet a very special Kurdish girl. I won't write any introduction, but here we go.... let's meet Ashna Shareff. NOW!

"A little about me, I am Ashna Shareff, 22 years old. I have studied politics and international relations which I love more than any other subject. Originally, I am from Hawler, and I live there as well. I currently work in the ministry of municipalities and tourism, as a personal interpreter of the minister.  Number one thing that I love most in my life is writing; I almost spend more of my time writing than doing anything else. I can describe myself as an adventurer, and one thing that makes me feel good always is doing charity with friends.

To me, my favorite place in Kurdistan is wherever the mountains are. I love Kurdistan’s mountains.  Climbing mountains seem to me as the road of life, I struggle until I get to the top, but once I stand on the top, I truly feel freedom and the beauty right in front of my eyes. 

However, my favorite place in Erbil, Shorsh Street. The street itself is full of beautiful memories for me.  I have been living in Erbil almost all my life, but Shorsh Street has always been my destination in whatever I have done in the city. I love walking there at nights.

My favorite month in the year is February. I was born in winter, and it’s always been my favorite season of the year. February is the mid of winter in Kurdistan.

 My favorite day in the week is definitely Thursday.  Mostly because every Thursday I do a different thing, I go to different places, basically different small journeys.  I usually finish from work early in that day, often times, I visit friends or I just take a walk on my own to somewhere. I do enjoy walking alone, especially in the cold weather. It gives me time to think about my life and about myself.

It’s really difficult for me to decide my role model, as I look up to so many people in my life. If I had to choose, then I choose my grandfather. Although he has passed away years ago, yet we still communicate through my dreams. He often comes to visit me there, and we chat about things (I know you think am crazy Sazan) he was a very simple man with a heart as big as the ocean; I have never met a man as good as him. And he was my guard when I was little (I miss Him).

 Oh now it’s absolutely hard to choose a day in my life!  But I will choose the day when I got my final grades in high school, Sixth grade.  I remember a night before that day, I had a dream. In my dream the principle of my school, she came and she grabbed my hand. She told me “I am going to take you somewhere very special”. I began to walk with her until we reached somewhere very high; we were standing on the top of a building. She told me look below and when I did, the place seemed like a heaven. It was surrounded by buildings, and the place was shining with the lights on. She told me this is university of Kurdistan-Hawler, and she took me to a class. Some guys and girls were inside; the principle told me these people are going to be my friends.

I woke up that day, and my heart was filled with comfort and happiness. I was sure that I will score a very good grade and I will make it eventually to UKH. Since UKH was a dream that I worked so hard to get into it. I waited until the noon, and then I had a phone call from my sister; she told me I have scored 87. I was indeed so happy when I heard that, for me 75 was enough since UKH was accepting students scoring 75 and so.  I was home alone with mom and dad only. Dad wasn’t so happy; he wished that I had scored higher. But to me, it didn’t make any difference, I was still very happy.

Part of my struggle was paid off. Then sisters came home and after lunch everybody was talking about me, and all of the sudden the vice principle, called from the school and she told the oldest sister that the real score of mine is 93 instead and that they have made some mistakes with giving her  a wrong number earlier that day. OMG, everyone was jumping form happiness, no one believed that I scored 93. At the beginning of my studies in the 6^th grade in my high school that year, I faced problems of not passing in the midterm exams, because I was too worried and stressed about getting high scores all the time.

In the afternoon, my house was filled with relatives, everyone bringing sweets and congratulating me and my dad for my success.  I was more than just happy.  Relatives kept coming to my home and I kept smiling all day.  The dream I had the night before I get my score came true at the end. I got a good grade and eventually I did make it to UKH, the place where all my dreams were. And now I am a graduate of university of Kurdistan-Hawler. J

The best thing I like in my life is the fact that I always count on myself. It has been the case with me since childhood. I learnt to be independent and always look after myself instead of bothering others to do so for me. Though sometimes it gets really hard.  

There is not something particular really that I don’t like about my life, but I guess what bothers me most of the time, is the fact that I know there are so many disadvantaged  girls out there in Kurdistan, who are deprived form most basic needs of life. I do wish from bottom of my heart I was able to help them in whatever I can.

I would definitely describe Kurdistan as “the land of the freedom fighters”

My typical weekend, would be first sleeping tight in the morning, then waking up and having breakfast with family ( though I rarely have breakfast) after breakfast, watching Cartoon for a couple of hours with niece and nephews, and then going to Citadel with friends. Taking some shots there, doing some shopping, and then at them in a café-shop and just have a nice warm chat with them, I would love it more if we were to meet to discuss a book we have all read, like a small book club meeting, and then going back home and spending the night watching a movie with sisters. Nothing would seem better than this to me in a typical weekend.

I can’t decide one thing in Kurdish culture, so I am going to choose two.  Tazbi7 and Jamadani. I love them both and I always carry them both in my bag. To me they represent the reality about Kurdistan.

If I had to change one thing about Kurdish culture, it will be certainly marriage tradition. By saying this I mean when someone finds a husband or a wife for someone else. It really bothers me, especially, when mothers find wives to their sons. I believe marriage should be about finding one another by chance, not by plans.

I do have a blog, the address is the following;

http://shareff.blogspot.com/

The website is where I feel the real Ashna is. I write what I feel and what I see and nothing makes me happier than when someone tells me how much they have enjoyed reading my writings.  I normally write poetry and articles about Kurdistan, about people who have touched my life and sometimes about issues that I find important to be spoken.

 My first wish for Kurdistan is like so many Kurdish people for their land, I wish one day Kurdistan will be recognized as a country. I wish I will see Kurdistan flourishing day after day like a flower strong with its thrones so that the enemies of Kurdistan will never be able to touch it again.

If I had a wish to come true for my career, then I wish work as a professional writer. I wish I will be able to publish poetry. I wish I will write a book someday.

As for wishes for myself, I wish I will do my Master in politics and international relations this year, and be one of the top students, a dream that I couldn’t make true when I was in my undergraduate.

 I do wish I will visit America and go to Harvard University someday. I wish I will have my own institution for charity in the future."

Blogger note: What ever I write won't be enough, so I will just express myself in one sentence: Ashna, with no doubt, is one of the most important in my life.

Meet Bewar!!

Guess Blogger

"Saz it is 12:30 am and you are taking me to a journey to my own life! Thank you!

I am Bewar Abdullah, 21 years old. Graduated from Political Science and International Relations at University of Kurdistan Hewler, and now working in my own university in the Media and Public Relations department.

I will take you to a typical day of my life
 Waking up early in the morning (snoozing the alarm several times) then its off to work. I love my way to work; it is a good time for daydreaming and thinking ahead.


What I love about my job is the fact that I write articles and make short videos about various subjects, and do workshops for Social Development from time to time (me and my manager usually argue about the workshop part. he says this is not my job, but it is not in my hand I do feel responsible to go out and share what I know and make my people more aware, but he is a great man in the end he allows me!).  It gives me a special feeling to work for my own university; I feel I am paying back the second home that taught me so many lifelong lessons during the four years of studying.

In my job I basically I sit in my office, and do my work. When I am free I usually try to go to the campus to catch up with a friend and chat or to the library and borrow a book.

Then its back home, by that time I'm all out of all energy. Without planning ahead sometimes I fall asleep for really long hours which later on I regret.

During weekends, I usually try to meet my friends or go out with family. But, the coming weekend it won’t be like this, because….Saz I will take the chance to tell you here, do you remember last year you did some workshops in high schools? And how much I wanted to be a part of the project, so hopefully I will do it soon. I am really excited about it; I wish you were here, so we would do it together!

Favorite place in Kurdistan:

I love all parts of Kurdistan, but I guess you can predict, my favorite is my homeland Rwandz. Despite the breath taking landscape and the fresh air of Rwandz, it also takes me back to my childhood and the beautiful memories I have there.

Favorite place in Erbil:

It is the citadel, the homes are made of clay, all the equipment’s are Kurdawari it reminds me of my grandmother’s home in Rwandz!

Favorite month:

 April, though I prefer cold weather, but Kurdistan gets so green and wet in April; nothing can be compared to the beauty of Kurdistan at that time, everything blossoms.

My favorite day of the week:

Thursday is my favorite day, I go home and I can do all the things and thinking I want to do which I have not been able to do in working days.

My role model:

My father is my number one role model, I wish to be like him, he ispatient, strong, caring, reliable and other countless characters!

(Saz, you are also one of my main role models)

Best thing I like in my life:

The people in my life; family, friends, my orphan friends. They are all the blessings sent form above and are the main source of my happiness.

One thing I don’t like:

Recently I feel very distracted from nature. All week long, home –office, office-home, and the cycle goes on. I want to reunite with nature ASAP!

Words for Kurdistan:

Hay Zhyanimn..Hay Ro7i Rawan! …

(I was listening to this old Kurdish song and then when I thought what would be best to describe Kurdistan, the song started speaking)

One thing in the Kurdish culture I love:

Aside from women’s case everything about Kurdish culture is BEAUTIFUL…I love the warmth among Kurdish people, the sense of responsibility to protect one another is unique. Something can be found in Kurdish culture which other societies miss isRESPECT.

The only dark point in our culture is when it comes to women; we are over protective regarding women. Though there are real attempts to raise awareness among people but still there is a lot to be done to change the mentalities.

Some of my wishes,

For Kurdistan: I wish to see one United Independent Kurdistan

Career: I wish I can get a job that allows me to make some changes in the education system in Kurdistan."

Blogger Note: Bewar, is one my best friends. We have worked together in organising many projects and over the years we've grown up as sisters more than anything else. If I went on for page after page and book after book of writing it won't describe Bewar, instead I just wish you get the chance to meet her, and only that can prove to you how right I am. For me, Bewar is one of those people that I wish every person could meet, she is a school of her own! Get to know her more through her blog: http://bewar.tumblr.com/ 

Meet Sayran....

To the most loyal, greatest and sweetest blog reader in the world*

GUEST BLOGGER SERIES

Here is something fun and different for a blog entry. I am going to introduce you to different Kurdish girls over the next few weeks- a brief insight into their life. This will also give you, my dearest reader, a look into Kurdistan, and I hope through this you will also have an understanding of how it is to be a Kurdish girl living in Erbil.

I must thank all the girls in advance for taking the time to reply*. You will realize over the weeks how each of them is different in her own way. Not just how they lead their lives, but also their personality!

So... for week one, let's meet Sayran Ibrahim Shawkat.

Quick Bio:
"My name is Sayran and I am 24. I studied politics and IR at the University of Kuristan Hawler and I'm currently working at the British Consulate General-Erbil.

A day in my life- aaaaah... I wake up early in the morning (although many times I force myslef to do so) but as I believe that if you want to change the world you need to learn how to wake up in the morning! I then have a quick breakfast then it's off to work which is about a 30-minute driving. Most of the time I start my busy day with a hot cup of tea or coffee and if I'm lucky enough sometimes my line manager does that for me. I don't remember the last time I didn't have a busy day! But at the same time I enjoy the part of my job where I am always helping others, often feeling that if I am not there something will be missing. Everyone says: "sayran khan ...sayran khan..sayran khan" and "I want to speak to sayran khan..." I am trying to be as much helpful as possible, however sometimes I feel that I can do better and be more patient when dealing with worried and stressed out visitors. I spend all my day at work and go home when its dark (that doesn't apply if it's summer) when I come home I feel that my batteries are low and need to charge them again... so just relax for an hour and of course this means eating my sister's yummy food (God bless her, as my mom is sick and unable to cook my sister has taken the lead in the kitchen ) later facebook and checking what friends have done and also checking my notifications and messages...I realy like facebook because I feel it connects me with my beloved frends and people that I love and appreciate...then some little house work and things related to home before preparinng for the next busy day!

My favourite place in in Kurdistan is the beautiful nature...or any place thats is green and breath takeing and that means all of kurdistan is my favourite place.

My favourite place in Erbil is the malls. I'm sure you wil ask why and i will say shooooopoooping and shopping and having a nice discussion with a friend over a hot cup of coffee :)

My favourite month is my birth month is July. It's summer, hot and a good time to have some time off work. Also because sooo many good stuff has happened to me in July..

My favourite day of the week is sunday and thursday..sunday because I feel energetic for work after relaxing at home at the weekend and thursday because I will get tired after a busy day and will be missing the wekend ;)

I have more than one role model in my life, I am always taking something from different people. First, my mother for her patience and kindness. I admire Ghandi for his tolerence, peacefulness and simplicity. I am also one of Obama's admirers for the new path and new accomplishments he did as the first African American President of Muslim origion.

I am grateful for everything in my life...and always think and feel of how lucky I am to be surrounded by great famliy, friends and people...and feel pround for the things that I have accomplished and the goals that I have in my mind. The best thing in my life is my positive sipirit, energy , enthusiasm and confidence, I feel that they are the key of happiness and take me to other horizons in life.

The not so good is that sometimes I feel that I am an impatient person and always have so many plans and to do in my head and want to do all of them at the same time, often rushing in everything. I think I need to be more patient and take each step at a time.

Kudistan in three words: Dream, life and beauty

Saz, it was a nice feeling to write and to talk about my self...a bit of relaxing activity :)

loove uu zoooor
Sayran"

Blogger Note: Sayran is one of those people who would tell you in your face exactly what she thinks of you and what you have done wrong, and would talk in front of anyone with confidence and fight for what she believes in. Inside, a soft-hearted sweet girl with much talents and very working. I have taken Citadel tours with Sayran many times, and she is one of those people who would go with me for article interviews even if she was busy. You would learn a lot upon meeting her.

*Why are you all that? Simply because you're on mandalawi.blogspot :)
**I have left everything as written by the girls, but one of them in particular (Argh! you know who you are!!) used U instread of YOU... had to change that. That's about it.

The journey ends....

1:12 a.m.

5^th January 2012

I watched as B.M pick up the children in the living room and took them to their beds, she was in the room between both of them, I passed by she was playing with one of the little one’s hair and talking. I am guessing she was telling him a story, while the other one was already asleep. As I am going to bed, her night is just beginning as she probably won’t sleep till the morning to study for tomorrow’s exam.

The last place I was in, when in Kermanshah, before going to see other relatives, in a different city

Her study on the kitchen floor didn’t last more than half an hour, she was up to get water, up to get father’s medicine, up to serve food, up to say goodbye to guests and so on….

While washing the desert dishes and the millionth pyala (glass used for drinking tea—OK, so I am exaggerating but I swear I am serious! Well… 5^th, but still.) B.M. and I had a quick conversation. She is so happy of her life, and where she is. She wouldn’t want to live anywhere else in the world, she is proud of her Kurdish background and has maintained a strong affection and connection to her Kurdish roots. I discovered my cousin is a writer, who has written many poems in our Kurdish dialect. She likes to read and write in her free time, I am just woundering when she managed to have free time with all the commitments and responsibilities she has.

Funny, how we are both Kurds, both from the same family, both related by blood; yet we are so different in the life we lead… but we seem to understand each other well.  

Approx. 2:15 a.m.

My journey ends tonight, early tomorrow, at 7:30 a.m. we are off to the border, where an “EXIT” will be stamped into our passports and it’s back to Khanaqin for a night, then back to Erbil where I will spend  my last day with the family before flying off to my room in Nottingham—where the deadlines are waiting for me*.

As everyone is asleep, and in a matter of minutes I will put my head down on the pillow too for one final time in Iranian-Kurdistan I will go to bed, but will probably toss and turn for the next hour or so. I will be thinking about how upsetting it is for one big family to live apart and far from one another because of reasons beyond their control. I am still upset that my father for over twenty years hadn’t seen some of his far relatives who he so closely loves. I sleep having in my mind how interesting it is that my parents throughout all these years have always had contact with all the relatives here—something that I hadn’t known. They had always known each other’s news and were aware of who had died, who was unwell, who had kids and who married who.

Tonight, once again I am going to go to bed, my eyes will be closed but in the middle of the black paper in front of my eyes my mind will write “KURD” and around it, I will brainstorm what it means to be a Kurd for Sazan, this experience has opened many questions in my mind and has introduced many thoughts as well.

In the past six days I have met over hundreds of khezm, I have seen things that have made me think greatly and deeply about many aspects of not only my life, but the life of all of our family, and I have met great individuals (especially B.M) who have inspired me. Above all, 6 full days with my family, the three people who are everything in my life. Next week this time I am going to be in my lonely room, far from everyone. I will leave all these people behind, but with me I am going to carry lessons learned and memories to cherish for many years to come. I am tired of all the visits (and sloppy kisses), tired of going from house to house and sitting for hours talking, but I know when I leave I will miss all this (the sloppy old lady kisses included!!!)…

Maybe one day I will write a book about this very HUGE Kurdish family of mine that has half of it in Iranian Kurdistan and the other half in Iraqi-Kurdistan. Or maybe I will write a book on why these two families shouldn’t need a visa to see each other; maybe I even won’t write a book at all; maybe I will stand on my feet and do something about it chunka bakhwa aawa nabet, na, na, nabet!!!

I will say goodnight now, the sound of typing is getting annoying so I might as well take the initiative and stop on my own before being told off by M.M junior.

*I need a chance to sit alone and recap the last three weeks and everything that has happened

Darded La Gyanm....

10:52 p.m.

4^th January, 2012.

I am writing on the kitchen floor back in my aunt’s place, B.M is opposite me reading her book in preparation for her exam tomorrow.

I took this picture in Terika Bazaar (in Kermanshah) , which dad took me too, he said I'd like it, and I did. I just can't remember which day it was that we went, and I don't know how I haven't written about it

We left to one of the houses here, he is basically the “eldest” which means he is basically the “big man” we visited his place, which was already packed with people (and of course we all get our 10 sloppy kisses on each cheek. Their women kiss the men as well, on the bases of family [wink wink—dad!] and the hospitality is very warm they insist that you stay overnight, and when you make a good argument why you can’t stay over at night they then insist you sit another ten minutes, half an hour later once again they insist you don’t leave, and when you finally do, the kisses begin once again.

They are very interested in what you do, where you study and how you lead your life. One of the elderly woman sitting next to me asked me to speak English to her, she wanted to know if she can understand it or not. Having said this, most of her children are studying their masters in places like Tehran and Kermanshah, including her daughter. I am over the moon, studying here is something people are very proud of, even though “they are jobless afterwards!”

As I type, B.M stands us to serve more tea to the guests at her place tonight. It didn’t take five minutes before her son asked her for something, back to her book then she had to go and pick up the empty cups… how proud I am of her. I know I could never do this; this is the peak of dedication and motivation. (We—B.M and I—are both very busy, me on the laptop and she is sitting facing her book—both on the kitchen floor—every now and then we smile or laugh together as we hear the conversations taking place on the other side of the kitchen counter.) I don’t dare to stand up to pick up the mid-night desert plates, because she will realize and leave her studies to do it herself. “You’re a guest, you aren’t allowed to do anything” she would tell me.

On the left is where all the guests are sitting, one the right, behind the counter, is my cousin (B.M.) studying, and me in the middle of both sides. I took this picture while typing this entry

As I watch B.M I can’t help but think of what the Kurdish nation have had to go through. Here is the only child of two elder parents with severe health conditions whose house was taken by the Saddam regime, who were forced out and put into prison where they were mistreated and abused in ways you can never imagine. She began to study in a different language, managed to get into university and look after the house and her parents on her own, she then worked, graduated, worked again, got married, had children, worked, and now studying again while looking after her two elderly parents and managing the entire house next to her husband.

For two and half weeks since I have left the UK on my Christmas holiday I have complained that I couldn’t work on my research papers and study for my narcoterrorism exam because of the funeral, family commitments and the unplanned travel to Iran. As I see this Kurdish cousin in front of me, with all the responsibilities on her shoulders she is studying her second college degree despite all the difficulties. My excuses are lame! I feel guilty.

[Aunty keeps looking at me and says “darded la gyanm” I have no idea how to interpret this into English, it’s something along the lines of: May I bare all your pain and suffering. (I don't know if that makes sense in English)

 

*please excuse all typos, miss-spellings etc... these entries were all written on the go and I haven't read through them again before posting on the blog Thank you for your understanding!

Kurdistan Here Kurdistan There

31 December 2011

2:15 p.m.

Today was emotional. Dad met his nephews and nieces (who are almost his own age) it was reunion after almost two decades. It is interesting how we are both Kurds but have been raised and brought up in different ways. We still speak the same language, but sometimes they put in Persian words, the way they pronounce some words is also different, but at the end of the day there is mutual understanding.

• We have just had lunch, people keep coming in and out, I have already been introduced to people I have never met, but they treat me like we have grown up together—they are also Khzm (relatives). Some hug my parents and begin to cry. At some points I hear them swear at Saddam, because he is the reason for the distance and them being deprived from seeing each other.
• Few interesting observations about my Irani-Kurdistani relatives:
• Their voice is a low tone, they don’t scream
• If the TV says no chicken tomorrow its dangerous no one eats chickens, no one eats it. My relatives back home, would be like “if it kills me, let it kill me”
• As much as they smoke, no one smokes at home or in the car,  
• They have picked up from the Iranian culture as well.
• The ones here are a little more religious,
• After saying all this, it is the ones back in Erbil who are enjoying their life more, and are more optimistic. The ones here seem to be very depressed. One of dad’s major conversations over lunch was why the mothers spoke Farsi to their children. His argument was something along the lines of: “They will learn Farsi from the outside, from school, and education and the neighbour… but if you don’t speak Kurdish to them you will lose it and so will they,” I agreed. One of the younger mothers said her child would be teased when she went to school if she can’t speak Farsi fluently.

I asked to be excused so that I can pray, so better get the prayers done and go back to the living room where everyone is.

I am living an interesting experience, but I am not making the most of it, with two major papers to submit and an exam to prepare for. I feel guilty that I haven’t read a single word for any of them. Hence the minor depression. 

1 January, 2012

1:50 a.m.

We returned back to my aunt’s place half an hour before midnight, where we had a brief get-together for New Year while watching the celebration on Kurdish channels. They are still busy talking, there is so many years that they need to catch up on. The highlight of the night was when the clock stroke 12, we made New Year resolutions and mentioned some of the highlights of 2011 and wishes for 2012. Two people made a loud prayer for the fall of the regime in Iran.

A wish for 2012

It was around 10 pm in one of the relatives places, we were having fruit and of course chay (by the way the people here have very light tea with little sugar, opposite to how they like it at home) M.M. reminded me tonight was New Year’s eve, he winked at an elderly woman sitting down “you think she knows tonight is New Year” I gave a little smile, and told him not to mention anything.

I don’t think other than my aunty and my own family, anyone realized how important tonight was.  I was looking at the eldest woman in our family, Mimi I. New Year is not important to her, I doubt she even knows the significance of it. What a way to end 2011, being with some family and relatives that I have never met, others I had met once at our house back in Erbil many years ago.

My new friend in Kermanshah, Terika Bazaar... (If you know how to rotate pictures on blogger please do let me know, why don't you believe me when I say it is not possible?!)

I take the opportunity for my mind to leave the noisy living room (though my body is still there) and think of 2011. What a year it was. Although as I say goodbye to it, I know it is a year that I learned a lot from, I grew up as an individual. It was a year of experiences. I feared that for the first time in my life I will spend New Year far from my family, though tonight I am just grateful I can spend such an important day in the company of not only my own family, but a greater family that I have recently got to know.

Many of the Kurdish folklore are actually hand made here, in this part of Kurdistan, as usual I manage to find my big love....

I miss Erbil on a day like today, where the sky glows in sounds and colours. I remember not too many years ago there were huge, scary sounds, my mother and I hid under the stair case. Earlier, as it became 2012 I watched the sky in Kurdistan light in colours, the sound of fireworks—happiness and celebration in the sky. I am just happy, at such a date our children today can acquaint that “bomb” sound to celebration and joy.

As for 2012, I wish to finish my degree with success. And beyond everything else I wish for good health, success and happiness for all the important people in my life. As for you, my dearest blog reader, I wish for you to get a chance to see Kurdistan in 2012, I wish for you to keep reading my blog… I wish for all your New Year resolutions to come true. I wish you a HAPPY NEW YEAR!

*please excuse all typos, miss-spellings etc... these entries were all written on the go and I haven't read through them again before posting on the blog Thank you for your understanding!