Are the worst. I have seen some gnarly traffic and some heinous insanity on the road, but that is just the way the traffic works. In that lest sentence ‘works’ is the operative word…it is craziness but it works because it is part of a system in which all drivers on the road participate. In Cairo it seems like chaos but it darted and swam like a fish in a river.
Kurdistan is not that. Its not the driving that is insane, but the drivers. They are horrible. Miserable. Careless. Reckless. Dangerous. When I drive here I don’t enjoy it…I dread the commute to the office in the morning because I know at least 5 people are going to not watch the road and almost hit me with nothing I can do about it.
Why am I writing about driving? Because it is easier than writing about the history and memorials we have seen regarding Saddam’s mass murders and killings. Easier than trying to encapsulate what it means to live in a region that has a growing post-islam mindset. Easier than griping about not knowing what is next in our lives since we are done here in the next 3-6 weeks.
But we will tackle those hard issues soon…I promise.
Wake up to the pitter-patter of rain drops on the window. Walk out and look out over our balcony at our little street. Power clicks on and off as we shower and get ready for the day. With raincoats, backpacks and appropriate rain foot-gear on, we leave our comfy apartment. Walk down the stairs and greet our landlords who are in their courtyard beneath our stairs.
“Baani Bash!” (Good Morning)
“Chony!” (How are you?)
Thus ends our Kurdish language skills.
Leave our front gate and step out onto the sidewalks. We share them with vendors who are opening their fruit and vegetable stands. Heat hits our faces as we pass the bread smith who lays his warm flat-bread out on the sidewalk stand. Fresh bread fills the air for a moment and we drink it in.
Streets are filled with morning traffic. My favorite vehicles are the school buses. Each bus that passes is filled with singing, dancing and clapping students, who appear to be trying to out-do the others.
Come to a large road with cars whizzing by. We watch the traffic with other foot travelers. One confident person makes his or her move, traffic slows and we all make our move. Jump over the puddles and jog across the street, backpacks flopping against our backs.
On the other side of the busy street, we are in front of the office.
Warm greetings from our colleagues in the cold office. Tea and instant coffee flows almost as consistently as the flow of literature before us. Resources, history, studies and statistics, overwhelming needs and questions of how to answer them. Coordinating projects, meetings and discussions and it’s lunch time.
This rainy day calls for soup… and even if it wasn’t rainy, soup would be on the menu. The best soup vendor in town is nearby – a tiny street vendor that serves the best chickpea soup we have ever had. When the soup runs out, the vendor closes shop and enjoys his afternoon.
More information, discussion, coffee and tea flow through the afternoon and it is evening. With backpacks on again over the crowded street and past the bread smith and vendors we go, back to our little apartment.
Laundry and cooking is planned according to the power. Clothes sit in water for hours, waiting for city power to come back on to finish its process of semi-cleaning our clothes. The gas stove top works regardless but few cookies will be baked in the electric oven lest the power goes off, leaving the cookies to wilt.
Reading on the balcony listening to children laugh and play until dark, eating dinner on our red stools, a piece of chocolate from a thoughtful friend back home and into bed.
By the way, never take for granted your fitted sheets. Never. Electricity comes and goes, but fitted sheets stay put forever.
Sleeping deeply and waking up to experience more new things here in this new place.
The hills are alive in Sulaymaniyah… Sing it with me!
Last week, we got to drive west through the beautiful hills of central Kurdistan. If someone had blindfolded me, took me to these hills, took the blindfold off and asked me where I thought we was, I would say something like Ireland or something… certainly NOT in the Middle East. The drive was amazing. Thanks to all of the April showers that have been falling here, the wild flowers are in full bloom. Bright red poppies speckled the hillsides along with other flowers of every spring color you can imagine.
Driving through what was once ancient Mesopotamia, I couldn’t help but think about the events this soil has carried. These hills create the ground that is considered to be the cradle of civilization. The water that flows off of them flow into the Tigris and the Euphrates rivers. The history that these hills have supported is overwhelming… and the story is far from over.
Our road trip took us to the town of Shoresh. We visited a site that is being built as a large community center for the population of Shoresh and its surrounding communities. When we arrived we were greeted warmly by the staff who are building the community center and they welcomed us into a traditional Kurdish dining space where we feasted on a delicious meal with all the Middle East flavor we could hope for.
The wonderful thing about the way we were seated on the ground is that when we got full we simply reclined back and got dangerously close to slipping into a post-feast coma. We have learned quickly that every meal is followed by a glass of tea. It is very similar to the tea we drank in Sudan – black tea with a solid inch of sugar in it. With that kind of help , we can quickly say goodbye to post-lunch drowsiness!
After our meal, we learned more about the town of Shoresh and why the community center is being built there. During Saddam Hussein’s reign, any men suspected of being involved in or supporting the Kurdish army – the Peshmerga – were taken and systematically killed. So basically males between the ages of 15 and 50 were killed, leaving thousands upon thousands of widows and orphans. The Iraqi regime then proceeded to gather the widows and orphans from all over the region and bring them to a new area, or a “collective”, and told that if they even attempted to go back to their homes they would also be killed. Without any infrastructure to speak of in these areas, Kurdish women from different tribes and areas were forced to fight for survival and start over. Shoresh was one of these collective areas. As is always the case in any conflict, it is the women and children who are the most vulnerable and Shoresh has been no exception. The people in this area still have very little health care and have had almost no education. Along with that there is a large population of elderly women who have no children or family left to take care of them. The community center we visited will have a hospital inside its facilities, classrooms for a variety of education opportunities and trainings, a sports center for youth and a conference room for larger meetings and trainings.
We went onto the roof of the community center and looked out over Shoresh. It was a heavy experience looking out over a town that established itself under the conditions it did. It is still hard for me to comprehend humanity’s capacity for division, hate and cruelty. And if these hills, that have carried, absorbed and observed so much, could say something about the patterns of humanity, what would they say. What advice would they give?
I lift my eyes to the Hills. Where does my help come from?
Historically, when we have left the States, we have had about 19 hours of transition time on a very pleasant KLM flight. With personal t.v. screens to watch a great variety of movies and television shows, our flights were always something to look forward to. And then we had the layovers in Amsterdam where we would take our final deep breaths of Western comfort and our first steps out of the Western world were taken as we stepped off of the plane and on to African soil.
Well, this time was a whole new experience. Our departure from Western comfort came in Chicago’s O’Hare airport. In the international terminal we were by far the minority, and there were certain signs that we were among people who were used to a different way of life – the greatest example being the conditions of the bathrooms. 🙂
We sat at our gate to get onto our Royal Jordanian flight to fly into Amman, Jordan and in no way did I have the sense we were still in the States. The feeling of having left American soil solidified as we got onto the Royal Jordanian plane. All of the signs were in Arabic with English translations next to them and all of the announcements over the intercom came first in Arabic, and then in English. We were back in the Arab world and we hadn’t left Chicago yet.
The flight was very pleasant, though we were concerned at first. There were no lovely little t.v. screens for us to watch, and as we sat down we became aware that we were surrounded by screaming children. The first hour into our 13 hour flight showed no promise of a break from the screaming, but as the turbulence subsided and the children learned that their screaming would not get them off the plane, everyone relaxed. In fact, Brian and I realized that the children were a far better form of entertainment than any movie could have been. There was one boy directly across from Brian who became our fast friend. We played and joked with him for the entire flight, breaking only for the occasional nap. Before we knew it, we were landing on a beautiful, sunny afternoon in Jordan.
We made our way through the airport, onto a shuttle and into our hotel. Both of us were eager to begin soaking in our first real experience in the Middle East and it was more familiar than we expected. The hotel dining room served hummus, flatbread, eggplant dishes and all of the Middle Eastern cuisine we could hope for. Immediately we were using the Arabic we learned in Sudan and were surprised by how much we understood from other people, and how well they understood us. This only peaked our interest in continuing to learn the language. We are further along in the process than we knew!
We weren’t sure how we would do with the time difference… we had to get up at 4:30 am to catch our flight to Kurdistan, and we were concerned we would not fall asleep. Well our in-flight entertainment must have worn us out because we slept very well. 4:30 am came too fast, and within a couple of hours we were on the flight that brought us to Northern Iraq. We had met many of the others who were flying with us at our hotel. We met 4 professors from all over the region who are teaching at the brand new American University in Sulaymaniyah – the city we are living/working in. We also met quite a few Kurds who were traveling home. Immediately our impressions of the Kurdish people were that of warmth, friendliness, and hospitality. It was extremely refreshing.
I stared out the window as we flew over an incredible display of beauty – rolling brown hills, speckled with green meadows. I thought about how long I had been hearing about Iraq… since almost as long as I can remember. And there we were, landing in Kurdistan. Brian and I looked at each other and said, “Well, here we go!”
We followed our new friends through the passport lines and just as easy as could be, we were in.
We met our two Samaritan’s Purse colleagues, John and Doris, at the terminal. We liked them immediately. John and Doris also worked in North Sudan with Samaritans Purse a few years ago. We had heard all sorts of great things about John and Doris from the North Sudan staff, so we were eager to meet them. John and Doris have been working in the Middle East for almost 35 years. We cannot imagine better resources to help us learn about this complex area.
We sat over coffee immediately after arriving and peppered them with questions about Kurdistan, Iraq and the entire region. The story of the Kurdish people is even more devastating than I knew. The Kurds suffered cruelly under Saddam Hussein’s reign. Thousands of men were systematically killed and widows and orphans were transferred to camps in new areas to start their lives over. Chemical bombs were dropped all over the region, killing and injuring thousands upon thousands. Samaritan’s Purse is currently doing work with disabled people, as well as working within some of the areas where the widows and orphans were relocated. We are just learning bits of information about this area that has such a tragic history.
We are living and working in the city of Sulaymaniyah [ (Soo-lay-mah-nia)… most people call it Suly (Soo-lee) ] . Once again, we have been greeted warmly by those we have met. We are starting to get to know the local cuisine which consists of a lot of meat, beans and rice. Sulaymaniyah is one of the most progressive cities in Iraq (it has the only movie theater in the entire country!)
Though our Arabic was well used in Jordan, it is less useful here. Many people understand it, but they prefer to speak Kurdish. So we will be learning some Kurdish quickly!
We spent yesterday in the office with John and Doris along with Nawzad and Omar who are also employed by SP here. In the next few days we will be looking for an apartment for Brian and I to stay in (we’re staying at a small hotel for the moment) and continue to soak in as much information as we can.