To my new family... Domiz Refugee Camp

To the most special people I have met recently, my dearest Domizian family... 

 I MISS YOU ALL. I miss Domiz, I miss your lovely faces, I miss everything including the 60 degrees desert, sandy environment.   

I went to bed and I found myself tossing and turning, so I woke up, put on the lights and here I am writing to you... even though I know most of you (in fact all of you won't even get a chance to read this).

Only God knows how much I miss your smiles in the morning; some of you would arrive so much earlier (Ahmad, I can't forget how you said you woke up at 6 am waiting for 9 am to come..) then there were some of you who always came in a little late, and of course you were punished and had to sing us a song... some of you told jokes while others mimicked chicken noises. When you were late, some of you apologized others laughed as you had already prepared yourself for a punishment, but inside I knew why. As soon as you came in sweating, heat evaporating from your faces, I knew your tent is far... I knew your journey to the caravan wasn't an easy one. I knew you had so many other commitments out of your control.  

I miss how well you worked in groups, how you presented your findings and how you always forgot to do eye contact with all the participants. I loved how you competed with other groups.

 I miss your ideas, your heated arguments (friendly of course). I miss the way you shared your thoughts on women, role of men, culture, and a lot of life experiences. I miss forcing you out of the caravan after the sessions, you simply didn't want to leave. I miss how some of you who said you have a heart of rock (yes, you know who you are are!) ended up reading us your poetry on the last day as we said goodbye... 

 I had my eyes full of tears every time you all came to the caravan with a notebook, an old notebook with its pages so thin and crumbly... a notebook that has your words. This wasn't any notebook, this was your diary, and you each had one; some of you read your poems from it. I wondered how late at night you wrote those poems, I wondered where you were sitting in Domiz when those words came out, I wondered where you hid that diary so no one else in your tent could read it... I wondered what you will do when the pages are finished, where you will buy another one and how will you start the first line of every entry...

 Don't think that you fooled me. I know very well most of you were in love. I saw you read your poems about goodbyes trying to act all manly and holding back watery eyes; girls, I heard you speak of your 'friend' who was killed, and then I saw you secretly wipe tears; I heard you begin your communication stories in the circle with "Though the person is not here physically, I still feel we are together" it hurt me a lot, but at the same time I know something great is waiting for all of you, because you are all great.

 For me Domiz is no longer about a Refugee Camp with thousands of people complaining. No, Domiz is about individuals with great hearts, it is about 40 young people who are explosions of happiness, faith, optimism and life........ when the opportunity comes! 

I loved the activity where you were asked to cross the line every time the answer to the statement was a Yes; when the statement read "I am an optimistic person" all of you crossed the line. But only one of you chose to speak, and the words are still recorded in my memory "If I wasn't optimistic I wouldn't be here." 

I loved watching you make new friendships, I know some of you had only just met though you will be lifetime friends. I loved our little side chit-chats together, as I learned about your lives back in Syria, about your family and all that you have endured.  I loved how you all are hanging onto life. I loved your kindness, your warm hospitality. You touched my heart when you read out your dreams to each other, dreams of the future. Some of you dream to travel the world, others dream of finishing their education and a number of you dream of living in peace in a country called Kurdistan. 

I know some of you wrote your names for the training thinking we will employ you later. I know for some of you that's the only reason why you came, but I know on the last day as I sat in that black car and waved to you from the car window as I left... you were ready and dedicated to volunteer everyday with your peers for the sake of the wellbeing of Domizian people. I just know it. 

I love everything, but I also hate. Yes I hate. I hate the fact that I am sitting in a room right now, in the capital city, under the air-conditioning, under a roof on a double size bed while you, my family, are in tents... I know I would be happier now if I were to spend my late night in one of your tents, all gathered together in one of our warm conversations... where we all leave and go to sleep full of hope and optimism because of that positive energy we pass to one another. 

I never feel lost, because usually (mostly) I know what I want, it is just a matter of how to get there, but this time I am lost because there are certain confrontations that I will face if I decide to come back to Domiz for a good few months. I have people in my life who I need to consider. My dearest family, I promised I will visit you again, here I am thinking of how I could live up to that promise. 

I assure you if it were up to me I would pack my bag right now and I will leave 5 am tomorrow morning so I can be there with you to start a morning training session at 9 am sharp. I wish it was this easy, and it probably is, and you never know soon I might be joining in this journey of yours. I watched some of you grow as individuals, I discovered a lot about your personalities and like buds to roses your flourished day after day. I always imagine how my life would be if I come and settle with you all for a while. How much we would learn from one another, and how I would come to look at my life and the world in a complete different way.

Forgive me...

Forgive me for I haven't done anything for you

Forgive me for forgetting to bring the winning team a treat

Forgive me for not visiting all your tents

Forgive me for not speaking individually to each one of you

Forgive me for I still have your names and numbers and yet to find you all jobs

Forgive me for being a light of hope for you but still not able to solve your issues

Forgive me for I need to carry your voice to the outside world and I haven't

 Thank you... Thank you for teaching me there is more to life than what I thought, Thank you for reminding me what the important things are in life Thank you for inspiring me Thank you for being a family and welcoming me to your life at such a delicate time Thank you for being strong. 

And side by side we will take steps forward... that, I promise.

*All pictures taken by myself and various other participants of the training. This training was run by UNFPA, we (A-KH and myself) were originally Y Peer volunteers, and hence, the two training we did were for 40 Syrian Kurdish Refugees based on the Y Peer training! 

My Days in the Domiz Refugee Camp

Dearest, most loyal Blog Reader,

For this week I am joining forces with with a former colleague of mine working with youth in the Domiz Refugee Camp just outside Duhok. I can go on to write pages and pages, although I have decided to share with you a few of the pictures I have taken so far.

Kids playing... no toys!

Three friends...

The neighborhood

The youth are individually selected to go through this training. Hence, the forty people that I am working with during this time may not reflect the values, attitudes, or personalities of the thousands of others in the camp. I know, and I realize they are unique. The aim is to give them the skills necessary to  initiate projects and motivate other youth in the camp.

Humble water fountain at a restaurant in Domiz

Fixing TV

Above: A man with a little shop, had four children, fixes TVs in the camp.

Everyone - old and young - try to work.

and I meet a family...

And here, I visited one of the tents belonging to the family of one of the participants in our training. One tent, more than five adults, a bathroom, kitchen and toilet. This is really good compared to new comers who only have a tent. This family has been in Domiz for about a year and three months.  Their house in Syria is destroyed.

Roof of tent

Kitchen

Bathroom

"My husband has cancer, he is in the tent looking after the children and I try to work so we can live. My wish right now is to be able to cure his illness and take my kids out of the camp." Said one of the women I spoke to.

Domiz Refugee camp

Despite the fact that the Domiz refugee camp is better than all the camps in neighboring countries (since the refugees are given full and legitimate right to leave the premise of the camp and find jobs outside) its inhabitants still dream of leaving.

'Luck' families who are not in tents.

Our training sessions in UNFPA caravans

I found it frustrating that most of the youth who are not working outside the camp are literally spending their days doing nothing. It was even more frustrating when I saw what great personalities there were.

My view everyday!

Until tomorrow good night for now....

Top 10 favorite things this summer

Hello Hellloooo Helloooooo from a very very very warm Erbil (where the sun is shining a little too bright for my liking)

Most Loyal Blog readers in the world - Before you become all Kurdish on me and do your glayee* of why I haven't been too much of a loyal blogger recently I will apologize.

Okay, so lets get to it. Whatever website I go on there is "My Favorite Things" list so why not have my 2013 Favorites for loyal Mandalawi.blogpost readers?

Lets do this Loyal Readers!

Oh wait. Before I begin there are always some things that you can't add into a competition, it just wouldn't be right. So before I begin let me just remind you how much I love Maam Khalil's teashop when it's empty and there aren't many people there. Just for the record it isn't in the competition! Because his chai and his friendly company is beyond any competition, it is zoooor zor zoooor ayba^ for me to even include it.

Chai at Maam Khalil's teashop in Erbil's Qaysari Bazaar.

10. Let's start the ranking from number 10. One thing I am loving about Erbil is that life begins after sunset. You would think once the clock strikes 6 pm everyone would walk into their houses and that's it. But it fact that's not the case, the cafes and outdoor restaurants are definitely one of my favorites. I have recently enjoyed my visits every now and then to Barista in Dream City, what's so great is that inside no one is allowed to smoke or have a hookah. Just perfect for me. There is also wireless internet better than Reber Slow. A good place to spend your evenings.

Barista, Erbil

9.  Okay, I have probably blogged about this before, but I have this big love for falooda (I don't know why do many people don't agree) and I could not resist placing it in my favorite things in Erbil. While there are a few places who call themselves Falooda Professionals, I only enjoy the one in Masif located just off the main road.

Falooda from Masif

8. Now, this one is by far a GREAT favorite of my entire family, Maasti Marrrrr, to be honest I don't know how healthy this is, but it is this magical yoghurt that doesn't even taste like yoghurt. This with bread and sweet tea (in a pyala of course) is the best thing you can eat in the world. Now listen (sorry, I mean read) you don't buy maasti marr in a fancy package with some great colors and a sparkly name, you know all that marketing thing companies do to sell their products. With maasti marr, it already sells so no need for all that advertisement. You just buy it in a big pot or smaller little bucket-like things!

Maasti Marr, Kurdish yoghurt! 

wait for it....

After Sazan and her friends visit the shop

And there you go! This is how you buy masti marrrrrrrrrr!

7. Shaqlawa is not too far from Erbil, but the temperature there is always five or so degrees less (trust me five degrees makes a huge difference when you're melting away in the city), while the rest of the world seems to enjoy the afternoon walk in the main Shaqlawa road with all the shops eating ice cream and having cold drinks -- walking up and down the same street over and over again -- I prefer sitting on the hilltop with a view of Shaqlawa below. In the evening just after sunset this is differently one of my favorite things this summer.

Shaqlawa (Picture by Shakawan #TwitterKurds)

6. This isn't really a summer favorites, but it is definitely a 2013 favorite of  mine. Wait for it, my new love and obsession... Naana tiri. This is like dried bread, which is reallllllllllly thin, before you eat it just sprinkle a little but of water on it and it becomes the most delicious, soft bread you have ever had. Magic. I swear it's magic. Enjoy it with some maasti marr and chay in a pyala^^.

Kurdish Bread, Naani-tiri or Naana-tiri

5. My dearest blog follower, aaaaaakh how I would love you to witness my bowling skills! I am so good that I hit the pins (that is what it's called- right?) in the next lane next to mine and even there not a single pin gets knocked over (Just ask SK!!!). Why is it shameful to ask for the rails to be put up? Any howwww, so now you know my great bowling skills, where oh where do I bowl? My favorite place is the blowing in Royal Mall on Shorsh street, opposite the Jalil Khayat Mosque. Very clean, elegant and a friendly atmosphere! I prefer it over the other alternatives available in Erbil.

Royal Mall - I did actually take pictures of the bowling area but can't find it.**

4. Summer evenings in Park Martyr Sami Abdul Rahman is definitely one of my favorites. Take a badminton set, some food and enjoy an evening meal while playing games. You will love it, I promise.

Martyr Sami Abdul Rahman park. 

3. Summer nights can be long and dreary and this may surprise you since I don't really enjoy movies but the new cinema in Family Mall is definitely on the hot places list this summer in Erbil, and by far if not my favorite place definitely the favorite of some of my loved ones.

Empire Cinema in Family Mall Erbil.

2. Rwandz (or Rawandouz) is my new favorite place in Kurdistan. Enojoy the view, evening walks and make sure you stay a night at Pank Resort (though I still believe that place can be turned into a paradise in Kurdistan with a little bit of attention and better services). There you can fly-- yes, I mean it. I actually flew down a mountain (and shook that mountain with my screaming). I won't tell you more you would have to wait for the next post.

Yup! That's me in Rwandz 

That's the Bekhal waterfall, an iPad camera doesn't do justice

My Mountains! My Kurdistan! 

1. Summer is hot. Very hot. Too hot. But my favorite thing above everything else is to put a big, juicy, watery, red, sweet watermelon (make sure you buy it ba sharti chaqo^) in a cold water in one of the tourist places like the water near Bekhal and Gali, having that cold watermelon by the waterfalls with a mountain view is by far MY NUMBER ONE FAVORITE THING THIS SUMMER! Now you were not expecting that as a number one were you? Simple things people. Simple things! 

Shooti 

* Glayee- Verb. Comes from the Greek word (just kidding!). It is basically a word that us Kurds seem to know and do very well. Basically it referrers to the ongoing complaining about people who haven'tt been calling, visiting or asking about you! At least in this context that's what it means. 

^ Another word us Kurds know a little too well, it means shameful. 

^^ if you don't know what a pyala of chay is then I'm sorry you're not a Loyal Blog Follower.

** I promise this time when I get strikes the entire way through I will get pictures of the bowling area for you, my dearest Loyal Blog Reader! 

Little moments in Kurdistan that make life BIG

Dearest Most Loyal Blog Reader (of course in the whole wide world)

soon-to-be father and son

People ask me why I love this place so much. Sometimes I can answer, other times I just can't. Some little incidents take place in my daily life here that make my life special. It makes me put my head on the pillow at night with a smile. They are the same reasons why I wake up every morning and begin my day.

I swear I will get to the point.

So, a few days ago on social media networks I wrote about a small incident I had encountered during my day. I wrote exactly this:


 "Before I got to bed tonight I want to remind you of The Baby, he is 1 year and 2 months, needs to be adopted as soon as possible. If you, or anyone you know is interested please contact me...Let us help to find this baby a warm home and a loving family who can actually take care of him and give him unconditional love. Thank you!"

[Less than 24 hours later]  Upset, nervous, unsure

I get a phone call from the greatest S.A. who had read my post, and he tells me Kak L might be interested. I also happen to know Kak L.** Lots of calls, and little bits and pieces take place but...

[Less than 48 hours later]  - A glimpse of hope, getting a tiny bit excited

I find myself in a car, sitting in the back seat with a  lovely (No. In fact an AMAZING) Kak L driving and his fabulous wife sitting next to him. Yup! We are on our way to see the baby.

[less than 50 hours later] - The suspense killed me in the car as I was BBMing a dear one 

We saw the little boy in a lady's hand outside as we parked the car. We walked in as soon as we were inside, the baby was placed on the ground he immediately ran towards what just might be his new daya*. Within minutes he was on the couple's laps. It felt to me like they were his parents for the past year.

The room was filled with love. I watched as the baby boy crawled from one side of the room to the next side towards them. Just like any baby boy, our Boy is in love with cars and so he pushed around a toy car towards the couple who were sitting next to me.

I let our deep breaths as I watched this couple smile from the deepest points in their hearts.

It didn't need discussion or re-thinking. Straight away they decided to take the baby home and meet the grandmother and his aunt-to-be, the lady from the orphanage joined us.

[Less than 52 hours hours later]

At this point I would look out the window of the car trying to hold back tears while counting how many houses we drive past, just to give my mind another focus. I failed miserably. Instead the corner of my eye would creep away and watch Kak L take off the tasbih (rosary) from the mirror on the front screen to give it to his new son-to-be.

[Less than 53 hours later] Is this a dream?

I see the new house where baby will be spending the next years of his childhood and hopefully when he is an adult as well. I see a beautiful garden, lots of green grass. I pause for a second, I can imagine the baby boy playing here, there is even a pavement "aaah this is where he can drive a mini car in a few years time when is a little older.." I think to myself.

I meet the aunty, it doesn't take minutes before she goes to her room and comes back with a few cute teddy bears to place in the baby's lap (you know those two teddy bears that almost every older girl has in her room, and NO ONE can touch them?). As the ladies began talking I secretly watched Kak L as he held the baby in his lap and gave him a tour of the house. I watched secretly as he took him to a little bird cage and spoke to the baby. Sadly, I couldn't hear what he was saying, but it seemed like a father-to-son talk. He then took the to the right... they didn't come out for a good few minutes. Me being so curious, stood up to see what is happening, I walked behind the door and peaked from behind it. Kak L was feeding the baby- STILL IN HIS ARMS.

At this point I walked back to my seat, put my head down and texted a few dear ones who knew where I was, three texts to three people:

"Emotional"

"Alhamdulilah"

"They r in love with the baby. Nayan awet ba je beln."

[Nearly 72 hours later]  After smiling all day my cheek bone hurts

Basically just before I sat down to write this entry. I got my phone. Went up to my room and--I closed my eyes and prayed to Allah--then went to the dialed numbers to call Kak L and his wife. We spoke a lot, the entire time I could hear a baby in the background laughing and playing.

In a few days time Kak L and his wife will do a lot of paper work, and interviews. Late next week the baby who I wrote about with a broken heart will be washed away with love and the best care in the world in an amazing house with wonderful parents.

Note to Loyal Blog Follower:

As soon as I came home today I walked in with my shoes on, my daya screamed as usual. "How many times do I tell you don't walk in with your shoes on?"

"Mum you don't know what happened today!"

"Go take off your shoes then talk!"

"Mum you know that baby I was talking about?"

Everyone forgets Saza has her shoes on, and we talk and talk and talk and I think I have just persuaded the two greatest people in my life to bring home a little sister soon... they didn't say yes, but they didn't say no either. In fact, baaba^ said he had in mind to bring home this one.


*The most precious word in the Kurdish vocabulary. Mother. 
^The other most precious word in Kurdish vocabulary. Father. 
** On my birthday dinner last year with some colleagues, I met Kak L's wife for the first time. I asked her if she has kids (not LISTEN I never, ever, ever ask such a question. But I forgot her name, and wanted to see what her child's name is so I can say Mother of X -- this a polite Kurdish way referring to a woman older than you -- she said I don't have kids. The entire evening I was ashamed of my question, and the few times I met Kak L after that I felt ashamed for the question I had asked)

Pssssst! Can you keep a secret?

Dearest most Loyal Blog Follower,

I have been away for a while, I know. But look, I have come back to you with something extraordinary I am sure you will love me for it.

Since February this year I have been on a mission.  The story began when I had a training, and I loved the food served for lunch I kept asking, "Where is this from? Where is this from?" and all I got was: "It's from Tasty!"

But... where is Tasty?

Since then, every time I saw food from Tasty I knew it right away before I even had a chance to taste it. It was always proper home made food. Just perfect, as if it had just come off from your mum's stove and out of her pots. Tasty was indeed Tasty!

Tasty Delicious food in Erbil - Secret places revealed

Almost four months later and I have found every man's food heaven, and I am sharing it all with you my dearest Loyal Blog Follower. 

I wish I can give you the street name, post code, house number and you could go and find it right away. however since we live in Kurdistan, and more in particular Erbil I will take you through the whole process. (You know how it goes: Next to X, then turn third street right, then after the blue building second left etc." Sounds familiar right?!) 

When I fell in love with Tasty

This is well over my fourth attempt to find this secret hiding place to the most amazing home-made food. The food has an Iranian touch to it, other than the sweets everything tastes zoooooor delicious (I bet you anything that the chef is from Iran in fact there is no need for a bet, my research already confirmed this prediction to be CORRECT).

Okay, I will get to the point now. So, after I find out it's in Bakhtiary and behind a school it makes my search a lot easier. I just have to find every school in the Bakhtiary area (which by they way there aren't many) and then try to drive behind them. You can imagine what my poor mother was thinking sitting next to me, though she didn't say anything thinking  to herself: "Finally my skinny daughter is in search of food."*

If you are familiar with the Bakhtiary quarter in Erbil this is going to be easy, if you're not don't worry I have come to the rescue with the the exact directions. I promise you, you will NOT get lost. You can prosecute my Blog if you do.^ 

1. Go on the "dooooooo side-dakay Baxtyari" (the main two sided road in Bakhtiary- yes, that's how we give directions here!) This is the long road where the emergency hospital is, and if you go down further there is another private hospital, I think it's called Farewell! Which by the way is a very interesting choice for a hospital name.

2. From that two sided road, as you go towards the Zakaria Apartments, if the artist Zakaria doesn't ring a bell to you, then I mean Naz City, on your right there is a corner fruit shop (this is the part where I expect you to think 'oooooo thaaaaaat shop'). The famous Bakhtiary fruit and groceries shop that your mum probably asks you to go to every time she needs a kilo of whatever she has runout of at home.

3. Go into that road, where all the shops are drive--or walk-- up straight. No right, no left. Just straight. 

4. Then you will see on your left a school. Here turn left, then the first right after the school finishes turn right. So you are right behind it. On the front side of the school is basically a wall with illustrations on it. It's hard to miss.

Behind the school in Bakhtiary**

5. You don't even have to look for it... it is right there "TASTY." 

This is when you probably insult me with your words under your breath. "All this way, and this is what I find?" Simply because it is a small kitchen like place with a few chairs. 

But then......

And here is Tasty

6. You find it closed! Can you imagine? After four months search, I finally find it, and it's closed. But don't worry your beloved Blogger won't let you suffer. You can order by a phone call, or here are the working hours I found on display:

Working hours for Tasty Kitchen in Bakhtiary - Erbil

Delivery Service just a call away...

Until my next HUGE discovery khwa hafiz!

P.S. I am not responsible for any meals that you find tasteless at Tasty! ;)

*For some reason Kurdish mothers (daya) are always concerned if their daughters are half a kilogram underweight. 

** Sorry, I can't remember the school name. I couldn't take a picture of the front side of it either, ask my daya why :) 
^ But I will get you a free Tasty meal, just so you don't go through with the legal charges :P