Live from Erbil- from Ruwayda & Sazan!

Co-written blog*

My dearest blog reader in the whole entire world! If only you knew how much I love you. Who said a blog is all about one person, here is this for a change. An entry written by two people, me and Ruwayda, about a little encounter. My dear loyal blog reader.... please sit back, relax, get a cha and read away!

Sazan: When Ruwayda is in town you don't take her to the malls or the fancy restaurants. So we set away to the elderly people's home in Erbil.

Ruwayda: Sazan is the heart of Kurdistan for me. Without her Hewler is empty, she knows the fancy places and the not-so-fancy places. I'm familiar with malls and shopping centres; I come from Europe so I don't derive much joy from shopping centres.

Sazan: adiii kwww, I am your mastaw!
I knew Ruwayda won't have a problem with the venue, she is so accepting of people but the timing was my concern, her excuse is always "Saaaza akher zor garma!" (it is so hot) so I can't believe this time she agrees on the time, she's so precious and sensitive to the warm weather. But on a hot day, under the Erbil sunshine we set away. I win.

Ruwayda: Hewler is extremely hot. My skin is unfortunately sensitive. I have a tan on my face, hands and feet. It doesn't look good and I need to drink water constantly. Sazan always wants to go out during the afternoon which is extremely warm.

Sazan: She's being a chocolate. She looks perfectly fine!

Ruwayda: Well it is hot.

Sazan: Well it is summer! Anyyywaaaayy, we arrive and walk in peeking into the individual rooms until we find someone who is not too welcoming at first.

Ruwayda: We were not let in at first. The person in charge of the place wanted to see our identification and asked why we're meeting the elderly people. I didn't think you'd need a reason to visit them, and despite our justifications it was no use until Sazan made a call and we were finally let in.

Sazan: The call was for another staff member who knows me well and has seen me there many times before. At least we can get in. I was excited, finally "Ruwayda! Come see my Kurdish grandma." I almost yelled excitedly.  

Ruwayda: I met Sazan's grand-mama, a 70-year-old sweetheart who recently got married. She was in love for three years. If you are an unaware reader, this isn't Sazan's real grand-mama. Sazan has visited this elderly house for the past three to four years and throughout this time she has become friends with everyone there.

Sazan: Everyone, but this one called Pura Gulizar is just a bit special.

As soon as we enter Ruwayda says it smells like urine. No. it smells like anti-bacterial chemicals, reminds me of the smell of hospitals.

Ruwayda: The smell of urine, yes you read it correctly, was overwhelming. It wasn't just anti-bacterial chemicals; there was a clear and distinctive smell of urine in all of the bedroom halls. There are two main bedroom halls at the care house and each hall has about 8-12 beds.

Sazan: it’s not entirely clean I agree. But come on! See the bright side there is electricity, beds, ambulance etc…

Ruwayda: The place is full of flies. It stinks of urine. There is electricity but it is still warm. The fans don't help in cooling the place.  

Sazan: Smells like hospitals.

Ruwayda: Only if we agree hospitals smell like urine.

Sazan: whatever.

Ruwayda: Meh.

Sazan: Any howwwww...!!! It didn't take long for us to be surrounded by a group of sweet, elderly people, they are happy someone is here to talk to them. I watch Hassan sing and mimic Arabic news readers, he says something about Saddam’s attacks, he also mentions UN and Ghasa as well as he pretends to be a news reader. I forget where I am and what I am doing as I watch Maam Hassan in his rattered clothes join our little circle. But I notice little Hamdia sitting on the ground talking.

Ruwayda: Hassan is an old man, and shows some signs of mental instability. He is known throughout the care house to be annoying, mostly because he enjoys singing and mimicking radio channels.

Sazan: Hamdia and Gulizar had a crush on the same man. I remember once Gulizar asked me to take in makeup for her.

Ruwayda: Gulizar enjoys Sazan's attention. She asked Sazan for make-up and tweezers so she can "beautify" herself for the new husband.

Sazan: for a second my mind goes to Hamdia but then comes back to Maam Hassan. I love his voice, he has energy, lots of energy. He doesn’t belong in this place. He is too much fun for some of the depressed, tired and ill people here.

Ruwayda: I think I agree on that.

Hamdia is known to come from a well-off family, and was once the daughter of a very well-respected family. She was put in care because there was no one to look after her. She gets frustrated easily. In a matter of seconds, you can hear her screaming and hurling insults.

Sazan: The women in Arabic calls out “Hassaaaaan, Hasssaaaan, oskot, kafi” (Hassan, be quiet, enough) I reply back “Laa Khali” (no leave him). The woman frustrates me; I think she is a nurse here.  I can tell she has had enough.

Ruwayda: I don't know why Hassan isn't allowed to sing. After all, this is his care home. He should be able to express himself freely. Sazan tells Hassan to continue singing, and that she wants him to sing every day for as long as he likes. During this time one of the carers came and flicked Hassan's nose telling him to be quiet. It was very embarrassing for Hassan and made us really angry. There is no respect for the elderly people here.

Sazan: He loves to sing and it makes him happy. Then let it be, nothing more beautiful than watching an elderly man with a nice voice singing a Hassan Zirak song. I ask Hassan about his past, I learn he was in the army and later sold things in the streets before falling in the elderly people’s home. He is not married.

Ruwayda: Hassan wants a phone so he can call his sweetheart. We laughed at this together for quite some time.

Sazan: Ruwayda, he wants a NOKIA mobile as a gift.  You really think he has a sweetheart?

Ruwayda: Haha! We will bring him a mobile phone! I bet next time he will ask us how to use it.

Sazan: I say you teach him how to use Twitter!!! Here I am sitting down and talking, I can hear Ruwayda next to me typing as fast as she can on her phone, I don’t know what she’s writing, but I know this is all new for her. I can tell she’s doing what I did four years ago, compare the situation of the elderly people’s home here and that in the west.

I am thinking in my mind, if only you knew how they lived before they moved to this place. This is much better than their previous home.

Ruwayda: This place is like a nightmare. It isn't what I'm used to. I think back to the care homes in London and how lovely they are with the beautiful scenery. At least the ones in Kingston are like this. In here the place stinks of urine and horrible scent of anti-bacterial chemicals. It is like a horrible nightmare and whenever I look at each elderly person here I feel sorry for them. They all sit separately with no activities, and nothing to do. Some of them have no eye-sight, they just sit and smoke cigarettes.

It does not cost much to improve the quality of their lives, and to bring in carers that genuinely care about the person, respecting their dignity and privacy. I'm surprised that many people have not complained about the behaviour of carers. The mistreatment is evident, but there is little accountability.

Sazan: I have tried but there is no interest. Anyone you talk to gives you the impression that there are more important things to take care of in Kurdistan. I am glad my friends Ashna and Bewar come every now and then as well for a visit.

Pura Gulizar finally comes out the shower, her back hunched, she walks on the stick but still looks beautiful. Her face still a map of wrinkles, but through my eyes she is a beauty queen. She’s something us Kurds call ‘dl tar’ as old as she is, her heart and mind is like that of a young woman. We are friends.

I am embarrassed this time I haven’t brought her anything. She asks me immediately what I have brought. I tell her next week, she misses my cakes. She takes us to her little room where Maam Jabar (the new husband) is sitting down.

Ruwayda: Pura means aunt in Kurdish. Sazan brings the elderly people sugar-free cake, and they are all disappointed she came empty-handed, which is largely my fault because of the many places we are both scheduled to visit.

Sazan: Thanks for taking the responsibility, but still no excuse. I don't think they use me, but they like to feel special that someone has brought them something from 'outside' as simple as it maybe. They are very appreciative.

So what were you doing behind the door the whole time?

Sazan sitting by the door of Pura Gulizar's room. Picture taken by Ruwayda.

Ruwayda: Okay so I was a little nervous going to Gulizar's house (room). I stood behind the door and made note of what was being said and took a picture. Sazan seemed to know her much more and although I was welcomed by them all, I felt more comfortable being behind the door. Sort of like a 12-year-old not wanting to be caught, except my only crime was taking pictures without permission.

Sazan: The room is overcrowded and tiny, the television doesn’t work. There is a praying mat on the floor, a fridge, a cupboard and a double bed. No walking space, so Ruwayda put a chair by the door, I sat there and talk to the two lovers who are inside.

Ruwayda: The room didn't smell very nice. It is small, overcrowded with unnecessary equipment.

Sazan: Maam Jabar is so quiet and never says a word, but Gulizar tells me he wants to marry Hamdia. I can’t stop laughing, that’s when I hear Ruwayda let out a big giggle.

Ruwayda: Hamdia is about 80-years-old. She looks it too. She doesn't look bad for her age. The whole scenario is good for a film.

Sazan: If only I studied in directing school would have turned their life into a reality show.

We talk about life, about her pain, she is a little unhappy here but knowing pura Gulizar for the past few years she always has complaints so it is normal. She is a happy bride. I get big hugs and lot of kisses from her. My heart stings, she is here in this room all the time, she doesn’t go out and doesn’t take part in any activities… tears fill her greenish-grey eyes as she says she is lonely- I reassure I am her daughter.

Ruwayda: Gulizar is jealous whenever Sazan talks to someone else. She wants her undivided attention. She feels lonely and Sazan gives her hope that people do care about her.

Sazan: Before we leave an older woman sitting on a chair outside looks at me, lifts her hands and says something, I walk towards her she is eating a sandwich but says she’s thirsty. She tells me to get her water from Gulizar. I walk to Gulizar’s room and ask for water, Maam jabar reaches into the fridge, he has filled about 20 bottles, he looks for a cold one and without saying anything his shaky hands pass one to me. I walk back to the elder woman and pass her the water. She asks for a kiss. I kiss her head, she doesn’t let go of my hand, so I kiss her hand, then she says no let me kiss you. I let her.

Ruwayda: An elderly woman without any teeth sat in the shade near the tiny garden. She was having yoghurt with Naan and asked for water. She hugged and kissed Sazan for her generosity.

Sazan: I wasn’t disgusted, or appalled, neither was I feeling sick even though the site wasn’t all that pleasurable. Sometimes I wished this place was under my management, and my staff. I would make it a heaven for them.

Ruwayda: It brought tears to my eyes to see Sazan show such generosity to these people in care who have been forsaken by their own children. I think it was seeing Sazan kiss the elderly people and the little acts of kindness that brought joy to them that really swelled me up. These people have been neglected, and Sazan is their only hope. I hope more Kurdish people locally learn from her, and follow her spirit of activism and sefless volunteering.

Sazan: If Ruwayda visits a few more times she will get over this first time shock and will blend in more with the elderlies. I think she had too much to observe and take in for one time. But I am so proud of her, the elderlies fell in love with her politeness and gentle side. (Yes, Ruwayda is not violent and angry as she comes out to be in her writing and posts!)

Ruwayda: Thank you for making that clear.

 I have seen Sazan almost every day in the past two weeks. She is definitely my best friend in Hewler. She is a positive force here, and I have much to learn from her. I have been persuaded to come back permanently. I can imagine myself living here and making a positive impact socially.

Sazan: The fact that Ruwayda has decided to return and settle in Kurdistan makes me feel extremely proud. Despite the shortcomings that she has seen, agreeing to begin her life here means she agrees to all the confrontations but is willing to take on the challenge…. She is willing to give to society and dedicate her life and future to this nation.

Mission accomplished!

Ruwayds: So, where will you take me next?

Sazan: Wait and see my dear chocolate friend.

[Ruwayda had to go as she sets ten appointments every single day. So I was left to enjoy a falafl and mastaw on my own. Nothing like it to think of a long day full of emotions.]

Falafl and mastaw! nothing like it. Simple food, but I LOVE IT.

* Can't believe Ruwayda was sitting in our family room, and we wrote this entry together!

Live from Erbil - Qaysari

Dearest blog reader. You know I actually miss you when I am not writing to you.

If you my dear reader think that Erbil is all about big buildings, fancy shopping and coffee shops you are wrong, and you better not have that image of Erbil otherwise your loyal blogger will be dl shkaw (broken hearted) because lets face it, Erbil (or Hawler as I like to call it) is much richer than just the ordinary services that any western country can offer.
I promise I will take you on a trip to the modern side of Hawler that will make you feel like you're in Europe, but before I do that I want to show you the true and genuine side of Hawlerakam (my Hawler) this means the ancient qaysari bazaar right opposite the citadel. If you visit Erbil and do not come here then believe me I will be har zor toora (upset with you).

Qaysari bazaar - Erbil

The Qaysari bazaar is so confusing to walk in, it is not one of those places where there is a map and you know which shop is where. You basically follow your nose (because the aroma of everything is in the air, from sugar, spice and everything that is nice) and your sight (because there is so much colour and vibe). I love it here. Everything from clothing, shoes and food you can get. This is the true Erbil.

Still there are the hand made bit and pieces that people spend hours doing. I love the atmosphere in this part of the bazaar and I am so glad it is not in the wind of modernization, because this part of Erbil I want it to stay this way. As it is and as it was. I must point out the people are really kind and warm, although they do try to fool you when it comes to prices and quality of goods. for example bnishti Kurdi, which is natural chewing gum, they put so many on the table and if you are nice he will bring one out from under the table and tell you "take this, daraja yaka" (first class) you see almost everything in Krudistan from petrol to the gum we chew has different ranks, there is always the daraja yak and daraja do - which is equivalent to the first and second class of everything.

bnishti kurdi - Kurdish chewing gum. All natural (this is daraja do the good, pure ones are hiding under the table)

So, you shop, walk around and observe the beauty from the coloured textile and designs to the little Kurdish bits and pieces that really does remind you that you are still in Kurdistan. (One of my friends, NB, once told me "I am scared incase Erbi tries to develop so much that I won't be able to see the sky anymore) bakhwa (I swear) she is right. So here, you feel that you're in Kurdistan. And of course nothing is complete in Kurdistan without khwardn (FOOOOD!!!!).

Kabab Yasin

If you know me, and you know me well you would know me and meat are no good friends. In fact sometimes we can even be enemies. But the best kebab I have ever had was right here in Kabab Yasin with NB. What I love about this place is that you don't call and reserve a table for three. Nor do you have to use full etiquette.  You just go and sit down and eat. Sometimes if the chairs next to you are free (on the same table) some people will come and sit down too.

Food in Erbil's Qaysari Bazaar.

There isn't a menu, the man comes and lists few things that is available. You order and after exactly thirty one seconds the food is on your table (with mastaw or coke, but you MUST ask for mastaw. Trust me you won't regret it. Do me a favour and ask for two!!). The food is prepared live, right in front of you. The taste is spectacular. Kabab Yasin has two shops, the one at the front is for the single people - men! then one at the back is for families. The walls are decorated with pictures, both old and new, of Erbil. The general atmosphere reminds me of the beauties of life, the simple things.

My niw nafar (half person) kebab (KAbab). yes I ate the onions too!

You are there in Kabab Yasin to eat, to enjoy a meal. You aren't there to show off, to be picky with the food or be in your best clothing. Loved every single second- I must point out I had the greatest company with NB and little Nama! Please keep in mind that Kabab Yasin doesn't offer cha (tea), so you need to have your cha in one of the other chay xana's (in the blogs to come I will make sure to give you my recommendation!)

Hygien is no issue here. 

If you have a sweet tooth, the options are infinite, and the colours are surreal. Just take a walk in the little roads until you see then, then follow your taste buds to any sweet that may please  you. I recommend naana qaysi.

Naana qaysi

Colourful sweets in Erbil for the drooling taste buds

beads shop- yup they sells these little treasures too

still can't rotate! (I know, shame on me!) but this is Kurdish lifka

Live from Hawler!! Before and After :)

To my favorite blog reader in the world!!

Looking over Erbil.

If you know me well (I am sure after five years of reading my blog you would) you would know there is nothing in the world that makes me as happy as discovering Kurdistan. So, my friend Narin arranged an entire day for us to spend together around the citadel in Erbil - (Yes, I envy myself for such friends!). Any way, so me, Narin and 5-year-old Nama (Narin's niece) had the time of our life. They say a picture tells a thousand words, so I have put two pictures of me below and I will make no further comments. But know the pictures were taken in the same exact spot.

Erbil / Hawler - Citadel. Photo was taken by SI - March 2010

Erbil / Hawler- Citadel. Photo taken by NB - June 2012

I sat in the exact same place, and it seemed like yesterday when I was sitting there trying to imagine how it would look when all was finished. There is still a lot to be done, maybe in 2014  I will sit in the same place again. ... I love it. If it wasn't for the warm sun I would sit there and write the entire 20 000 words for my dissertation.
Must see RI now and I have an appointment to go to- will write later tonight. By the way- if you do come to Erbil you MUST (and there is NO EXCUSE) sit in the same place and take a photo :) for the sake of your loyal blogger! 

Live from Hawler!!!

To the sweeeetest, most special, most loved, most loyal blog reader in the world,

I am home! Home sweet home! (I promise from this day forward I will be as loyal of a blogger as you are as a reader! that's a promise from me to you!!)

 

First thing is first. I land at Erbil International Airport with my heart skipping a million times a second. Those first steps out of the plane can never be explained by words, you only have to see me to realize that I am indeed the happiest girl in the world when I give my passport for an entrance stamp.

Erbil International Airport (EIA)

I will keep this entrance short, but will briefly give you a guide to my first three days.

Arrival: The sign: "Welcome to Kurdistan" at the airport took away all my travel stress, my eight- and- a half months of homesickness, and every other misery that I might have had.

Morning 1: I woke up to the sound of dad's kaws  in the front yard, I went and said good morning to them, most of them are new members to the family and of course I had to introduce myself and let them know that dad loved me way before their arrival.

One of the many Kaw we have....

Day 2: Falooda! I don't know the English word for this, it is not your normal ice cream, although if you love ice cream then you will love falooda too. The best one is sold close to Masif's main road, I didn't have to ask to turn left this time when we were on our way to Shaqlawa. The family knew how much I had missed the incredible taste- if you're ever in Masif you MUST, you SHOULD, you HAVE TO try the falooda! And while you're there remember (and du'a bka) your Loyal Blogger who has found you a new addiction for the next ten years!

I introduce to you falooda- the one in Masif is a must taste

So what is best after a good Falooda? A nice trip to Shaqlawa. The road was packed since it was a Friday, but no matter what time you go Shaqlawa has its own unique and special atmosphere. It puts you in a very different mood, I love visiting because for some reason I get a positive energy from everyone around me. I feel as though all those in Shaqlawa are there to enjoy their time and put aside their troubles and stress. It felt great to be there in the company of my family… I watched the scene, breathed in the air remembered all the times where I dreamed of exactly that. There were many days where I would sit in my room so far away from my family and my country, my eyes would get tearful as I wished to be with my little family over a mountain in Kurdistan, and I lived just that in the second day of my arrival.   

A hill top view of a section of Shaqlawa

The experience in Shaqlawa is always very interesting. You need to walk the main street and buy nana qaysi, you need to walk the little roads going up and down slopes picking Tw from trees. You need to live the entire experience by hand picking them one by one with friends and family members, bring it back home for a good wash then eat it one by one together (please do try this next time you're in Shaqlawa!)

Tw (or toot) freshly picked from the trees in Shaqlawa!

Today, a dear friend (a sister and a mum-to-be) took me to a nearby fast food place, couldn't believe in the little time I was away the flat, sandy land was now converted into two fast food restaurants (believe me with the rate of fast food restaurants opening Erbil soon half of of the population will suffer from obesity) - special thanks to my sweet friend JB (the mother of my niece, who will be born in September).

Gold n Brown as well as Dal's Burger on Gulan street in Erbil - newly open

And just before I publish this post I should also point out to you that Carrefour is actually finally open in Erbil's Family Mall. Impressive, but not much different Majidi Mall's City Centre - actually I prefer the later more, and to be honest Carrefour didn't meet my expectations. Then again that's just my opinion. I was expecting products the same as the chains in other countries, but this wasn't the case. Although I was still happy to see young couples shopping with their little baby sitting in the trolley (so sweet, right?!).

 

 

 

Keep in touch and sardanm bkan every once in a while. Now that I am back home I will keep you updated with everything, until you too decide to return and fly to  your nest in Kurdistan!

All pictures were taken by me, for all of you loyal readers. Although I would like to point out that there is now a major transformation from the Samsung pictures to BlackBerry. For your sake! :)  

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.