As the plane zooms past the mountains of Suleymaniyah, one of my memories from the Life Long Gone springs to mind. I’m on the bus surrounded by strange people, heaps of luggage, screaming children and the bus attendants spraying lemon-scented disinfectant into everyone’s welcoming hands. I am in Turkey and the bus is approaching Iranian border. This is Kurdistan, the land without a name, the country of Turkish military checkpoints, troop carriers and helicopters – as well as friendly hospitable people who genuinely treat you as their newly found best friend.
Today, my life is different, and the country I’m in is different, but, once again, I’m in Kurdistan. Stepping off the plane In Erbil, suddenly I can breathe again – it had been raining here, it smells of wet asphalt, and for the first time in two months my lungs love the complete lack of dust in the air. In a strange way, it feels similar to the Kurd land on the other side of Iraqi border: same facial features, same Persian accent in people’s English and the “thank you” that sounds similar to Russian – “Spas!”
And yet the otherness of this place is strikingly obvious. What makes people here different from their brothers in Turkey as well as from their fellow countrymen in Baghdad is how at ease they are here. The uniformed members of the Kurdish Peshmerga military having a pensive afternoon smoke, the sellers day-dreaming in their shops, the waiters in restaurants lazily gazing over sleepy guests – it just feels so … normal. Almost immediately I forget about security and even get irritated when I’m reminded that I do have to obey some rules: “Hey, you’re still in Iraq!”
What makes it so different is the fact that Iraqi Kurdistan is practically independent. After the U.S. invaded Iraq, both the Shiite majority in the country’s south and east and the Iraqi Kurds in the north have been relentless in their push for more political control, which for the Kurds meant the realization of their dream to have their own country. Officially, they are an autonomous region under control of Baghdad but it is hard to believe the façade when the Iraq’s President Talabani and the President of Kurdistan Barzani (both are Kurds) smile together in fron of the cameras and swear an undying friendship between the Kurdish and Arabic peoples. The fact that Kurdistan maintains its own military, as well as foreign relations with the U.S., U.K., France, Germany, Italy, Israel (!!!) and Russia speaks tons. So does the flag of the Region – the only flag hoisted on the Erbil International Airport’s building.
The Kurds trace their genealogy back to the times of the pre-Islamic Sun-worshipping monotheistic religions of Mithraism and Zoroastrianism, and the Kurdish own religion of Yazdanism. Although some of these religions popular among Persian-speaking peoples ran currently or preceded the Roman Empire, there are still signs of the good ole Sun-worshipping times one can observe in today’s Kurdistan. For example, unlike the Gregorian or the traditional lunar Islamic calendars, what is used by the Kurds is a sun calendar with months designated according to the Zodiac: the same calendar is used in Afghanistan and in Iran, the other two Islamic Persian-speaking countries. Also, the flag, flown by various Kurdish Independence movements as well as the short-lived post-WWI Kurdish republics in Turkey and Iran, includes the Sun centerpiece that shines its 21 rays on the Kurds in Iraq. Of course, the re-worked temporary flag of Iraq is also displayed on the government buildings in Kurdistan, but the general feeling is that it is now the Kurds who want to have a say in the politics in Baghdad, and by no means the other way around.
In Iraq, Kurdistan Region is the best place to be. It’s the happening place. Due to large deposits of oil found in the region, and of course because of its relative lack of security problems, foreign businessmen flock to Kurdistan through Erbil International Airport. I was surprised to find that the airport is currently taking flights from such European capitals as Vienna, Copenhagen and Amsterdam. In fact, it is Erbil rather than Baghdad that hosts most business events focusing on Iraq, both domestic and international. Erbil is also becoming a regional transportation hub. Development here is so rapid that local residents complain about how expensive the housing has become, which is always the dark underbelly of economic recovery. Several neighborhoods are forests of cranes, and the quality of roads could be the envy of any European city.
Of course, the region has many problems. One of the issues that political parties will focus on in the elections next week is corruption: the two clans run by Presidents Talabani and Barzani have been battling over economic control of Kurdistan’s immense natural resources and other profitable businesses. And surely enough, the de-facto political independence of Iraqi Kurdistan has created a potentially powerful time bomb in the region with Turkey, Iran and Syria carefully monitoring the situation.
To me, however, Kurdistan will forever equal freedom. It’s deeply personal, and I cannot really understand why their struggle resonates with me. But when I think of Kurdistan, it will always be the memories of its freshness, the taste of its watermelons that made my dinners in East Turkey, the unique look of its crumpled mountains as if roughed up by a gigantic plough, the transparency of its air unpolluted by dust and overpopulation, and the relative freedom from rules, regulations and other official abuse.
The bus is creeping toward Mount Ararat. I’m thinking of the future and new adventures that life has in store for me. With this anticipation, I doze off.
Today, my life is different, and the country I’m in is different, but, once again, I’m in Kurdistan. Stepping off the plane In Erbil, suddenly I can breathe again – it had been raining here, it smells of wet asphalt, and for the first time in two months my lungs love the complete lack of dust in the air. In a strange way, it feels similar to the Kurd land on the other side of Iraqi border: same facial features, same Persian accent in people’s English and the “thank you” that sounds similar to Russian – “Spas!”
And yet the otherness of this place is strikingly obvious. What makes people here different from their brothers in Turkey as well as from their fellow countrymen in Baghdad is how at ease they are here. The uniformed members of the Kurdish Peshmerga military having a pensive afternoon smoke, the sellers day-dreaming in their shops, the waiters in restaurants lazily gazing over sleepy guests – it just feels so … normal. Almost immediately I forget about security and even get irritated when I’m reminded that I do have to obey some rules: “Hey, you’re still in Iraq!”
What makes it so different is the fact that Iraqi Kurdistan is practically independent. After the U.S. invaded Iraq, both the Shiite majority in the country’s south and east and the Iraqi Kurds in the north have been relentless in their push for more political control, which for the Kurds meant the realization of their dream to have their own country. Officially, they are an autonomous region under control of Baghdad but it is hard to believe the façade when the Iraq’s President Talabani and the President of Kurdistan Barzani (both are Kurds) smile together in fron of the cameras and swear an undying friendship between the Kurdish and Arabic peoples. The fact that Kurdistan maintains its own military, as well as foreign relations with the U.S., U.K., France, Germany, Italy, Israel (!!!) and Russia speaks tons. So does the flag of the Region – the only flag hoisted on the Erbil International Airport’s building.
The Kurds trace their genealogy back to the times of the pre-Islamic Sun-worshipping monotheistic religions of Mithraism and Zoroastrianism, and the Kurdish own religion of Yazdanism. Although some of these religions popular among Persian-speaking peoples ran currently or preceded the Roman Empire, there are still signs of the good ole Sun-worshipping times one can observe in today’s Kurdistan. For example, unlike the Gregorian or the traditional lunar Islamic calendars, what is used by the Kurds is a sun calendar with months designated according to the Zodiac: the same calendar is used in Afghanistan and in Iran, the other two Islamic Persian-speaking countries. Also, the flag, flown by various Kurdish Independence movements as well as the short-lived post-WWI Kurdish republics in Turkey and Iran, includes the Sun centerpiece that shines its 21 rays on the Kurds in Iraq. Of course, the re-worked temporary flag of Iraq is also displayed on the government buildings in Kurdistan, but the general feeling is that it is now the Kurds who want to have a say in the politics in Baghdad, and by no means the other way around.
In Iraq, Kurdistan Region is the best place to be. It’s the happening place. Due to large deposits of oil found in the region, and of course because of its relative lack of security problems, foreign businessmen flock to Kurdistan through Erbil International Airport. I was surprised to find that the airport is currently taking flights from such European capitals as Vienna, Copenhagen and Amsterdam. In fact, it is Erbil rather than Baghdad that hosts most business events focusing on Iraq, both domestic and international. Erbil is also becoming a regional transportation hub. Development here is so rapid that local residents complain about how expensive the housing has become, which is always the dark underbelly of economic recovery. Several neighborhoods are forests of cranes, and the quality of roads could be the envy of any European city.
Of course, the region has many problems. One of the issues that political parties will focus on in the elections next week is corruption: the two clans run by Presidents Talabani and Barzani have been battling over economic control of Kurdistan’s immense natural resources and other profitable businesses. And surely enough, the de-facto political independence of Iraqi Kurdistan has created a potentially powerful time bomb in the region with Turkey, Iran and Syria carefully monitoring the situation.
To me, however, Kurdistan will forever equal freedom. It’s deeply personal, and I cannot really understand why their struggle resonates with me. But when I think of Kurdistan, it will always be the memories of its freshness, the taste of its watermelons that made my dinners in East Turkey, the unique look of its crumpled mountains as if roughed up by a gigantic plough, the transparency of its air unpolluted by dust and overpopulation, and the relative freedom from rules, regulations and other official abuse.
The bus is creeping toward Mount Ararat. I’m thinking of the future and new adventures that life has in store for me. With this anticipation, I doze off.
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