Qaysari Bazaar

We don’t often visit the big bazar but when we do I’m always amazed by all the beauty of it.

 The Qaysari Bazaar is the oldest bazaar of Erbil. It’s located in the center of Erbil and the city is built around it. The bazaar lies next to the citadel, which can be dated back to 5^th millennium BC but it’s probably even older than that. The walls of the big bazaar are the original walls dating back from the 13^th century. It must be said that the walls have recently been renovated and that has brought the old features and patterns back, which are beautiful.

The name Qaysari comes from the word ‘Saray’, which is an Ottoman term for castle, palace or government building. This word did not only refer to the citadel but also to the government building located next to the bazar.

 

 

Last Saturday I took a walk through the bazaar with my mother. My mother was born in the Teyrawa district of Erbil, which is very close to the Bazaar. On our walk, she showed me the way to the Hamam where she used to go. There a lady would wash her hair. She also shares her memories of her father’s printing shop in the bazaar. “When I was young, the city only consisted of the citadel and the bazaar.” She said. “Due to its location, business men from Iraq or Turkey would stop by our shop or the bazaar.”  

 

 

 The bazar used to have different parts. Each part would sell different items. One only fruits, others only clothes. This is a bit changed during time but most goldsmiths are still located in one area. The bazar is so big that you can get lost in it for hours. The bazar is mostly indoors and it’s therefore cool in the summer.

Almost everything can be found in the bazaar. From fresh Kurdish yoghurt and local produced walnuts to shoes, clothes and gold. The reason I went to the bazaar last Saturday was because I wanted to repair my bag. I asked around and only a few minutes later I found an old man, fixing shoes, sitting in front of a mosque. He had fled Mosul last year, hadn’t seen his family since. Erbil and its bazaar have taken him in and he’s happy making his money here.

 

 

                To me that’s the beauty of the bazaar. When you walk through it, you can still feel and see all the authentic cultural beauties from all these different cultures. Erbil has been a safe-haven to so many different ethnicities and that for centuries long.

Cultuurverschillen

Vergeleken met mijn oudere broer was ik vroeger een dwaas. Toen hij de Koerdische taal al onder de knie had, maakte ik nog gebaren met m’n handen omdat ik de woorden niet kon vinden en werd ik uitgelachen omdat ik een raar accent had. Terwijl hij al vrienden maakte op de universiteit, werd ik op school bekeken alsof ik twee verschillende schoenen aanhad.

Ik had geen idee dat ik in een cultuurshock terecht zou komen want ik was immers Koerdisch opgevoed in Nederland. Het was voor mij dan ook een excentrieke ontdekkingsreis. Ik ontdekte dat je niet te direct moet zijn en dus uitnodigingen niet meteen moet afslaan. Maar ‘Inshallah’ kwam er bij mij het eerste paar jaar niet eenvoudig uit. Ik ontdekte dat het ongewoon is om een hond als huisdier te hebben en dat honden veelal als vies worden beschouwd in deze samenleving. Vol overgave vertelde ik mijn schoolgenoten over onze hond die het liefst voor het kacheltje in de woonkamer sliep.

Ik weet niet of ik na 11 jaar echt geïntegreerd ben, ik denk dat ik nogal wat streken laat vallen. Gister nog stond mijn broer me uit te lachen toen ik hem vertelde over een bijna aanrijding. “Dat je je daar nog druk om maakt,” riep hij uit. “Je moet gewoon zelf wat beter opletten.”

Laatst stond ik bij een tankstation en de drang kwam om uit te stappen. Toen ik eenmaal de slang in m’n hand had om te tanken wist ik me geen houding meer te geven, dit omdat ik zelf nog nooit een liter heb getankt, het wordt altijd voor me gedaan. Ik moet erbij vertellen dat ik al 8 jaar een auto bezit. Toen ik dat bewuste moment om mee heen keek werd ik niet alleen door andere bestuurders bij het tankstation aangestaard maar zelfs mensen die langsreden minderden vaart. Ik ben weer snel mijn auto ingestapt.

‘Heb je nou al Koerdisch geleerd?’ vroeg een oud klasgenoot, waar ik al 3 jaar geen contact mee had, mij op Facebook laatst. ‘Wat is er mis met mijn Koerdisch?’ vroeg ik haar in het Koerdisch. ‘Niks hoor, ’ antwoordde ze. ‘Je bent toch niet boos?’ vroeg ze nadat ik niet meer reageerde op haar andere vragen. Ja, natuurlijk was ik boos. Je bent toch niet meer Koerd als je een klein accentje hebt en geen Arabische woorden in elke zin plaatst?

De straathond bij ons in de buurt krijgt af en toe een lekker knakworstje van me, de blik van de buurvrouw neem ik dan maar voor lief. De Koerdische taal gaat gemengd met de Nederlandse en de Engelse. De veelal Arabische woorden die er hier ingegooid worden beheers ik ook al redelijk maar ach, met gebaren kom je toch ook heel ver?

Your name is your identity

Dear followers,

            Firstly, I would like to apologize for my absence to all my regular readers and followers, I have been incredibly inactive. Our son was born on March 11 and I needed some time to find a good routine that would work for myself and my family. But our son is doing so well. We truly have been blessed with a healthy, strong and loveable son.

            About 9 months ago, we were told that we were going to have a son, I had not looked into boys names. The only thing I was sure about was that it had to be a Kurdish name.

            I’m a firm believer in the phrase ‘your name is your identity’. As a parent you are given the right to name your child and in some cases this child will face many difficulties when growing up. Your child can be discriminated or refused because of his or her name. My grandfather was such a patriotic man that he named my mother Kurdistan. Not knowing, back then, how many challenging she would face because of her name.

She always loved to study mathematics but because of her name she didn’t get accepted. She either had to walk away or change her name. Now, I remember, back when I was at university, I met a girl who had a very funny Kurdish name. Translated to English it means ‘don’t cry my love’. Maybe she cried a lot when she was born? But would you, as a parent, like to burden a child with a name like that for the rest of her life? I do have to say that my son will find some difficulties in the name we have given him. Maybe I have a bit of my grandfather in me when it comes to patriotism.

            I know that my son will be going back and forth between Kurdistan and Europe and therefore I didn’t want a name that would be difficult to pronounce. We named our child Aryan and I know that some people will relate that name to the concept in the Nazi ideology of the Nordic race – According to them; the Aryan race was a master race. But it just happens to be our race as well. His name originates from the Sanskrit word Arya which means Noble. And looking further into history of the Kurdish language, Aryan truly identifies his identity.

I found his name when I was going through my grandfather’s/mother’s book. My grandfather started to collect and write down all the Kurdish names he had heard of and published that book in the 50’s. This book has been republished a couple of times by my mother and now I wanted to add the names that were still missing. I have been writing down all the names and the new names I knew of during my pregnancy.

I also wanted to know how many people here in Kurdistan give their child a Kurdish name and so I spent my morning counting all the Kurdish names that were given to children registered in Hawler in January 2014. If you’re curious about the number or if you’re curious to know if there is an increase or not, you’ll have to keep an eye on my blogs. It will come up soon.

           About two months ago I was walking around in Europe and I met Dilxwaz, I didn’t know she was Kurdish until she introduced herself; a very pleasant surprise. Identity groups, belonging, language and names; without them, Kurds would have ‘disappeared’ already.




 

Kurds and their future..

So many changes when it comes to construction and everybody seems to love it; Park View Apartments for example, is according to their website ‘the most prestigious project in Erbil’. I do not agree with their slogan owing to the fact that none of these Park View Apartments have a view or a park. This fact appears to be a minor issue since no one really seems to care about that part. ‘You can build a park on your balcony if you really want a park’ the salesperson answered when a friend of mine asked for clarification. The irony in this all is that we Kurds don’t mind paying an absurd amount of money for a project like Park View.

The builders, the engineers and the investors from Turkey and Lebanon don’t care about a Park. They do not care about our health and why should they? They are not here to invest in plants, parks or our health. What drives me mad is that we seem to think exactly the same. We love to invest in these ridiculously expensive projects, without really thinking ahead. We haven’t made plans for the future; our health, our safety or even our economy.

We all know the exact prices, square meters and location of these new projects but why are we so indifferent when it comes to our safety? Can we blame it on all the wars we’ve been through? That maybe because of all these wars we never really could look ahead?

Now let’s discuss our future here.

Let’s say we want to buy a villa in one of these projects, do we know if an invalid person can even enter the villa? What if your family member, who could walk yesterday but can’t walk today, wants to go in and out of your house? Can you rebuild your house? We have so many staircases in our houses; it really is as if no one has thought about an invalid person, at all. And when you want to get a stair lift, you can get a second handed one from Europe that will work for a couple of weeks but you won’t be able to find a new one even if you’re willing to pay a little more. We do not invest in good home medical supplies like electric wheelchairs. When is this going to change?

Let’s say we want to buy an apartment on the twentieth floor in Gulan Park. Is it earthquake resistant? Have we even thought about earthquake building codes now that more earthquakes occur due to the oil extraction? Have we thought about the social and economic difficulties we will face when a heavy earthquake strikes Kurdistan? What if, something like this happens do we even know what to do in situations like that?

We all know the telephone emergency number is 911 in the United States of America. All Dutch people know this number is 112 in the Netherlands but do we, Kurds, know which number to dial, here in Kurdistan, when in an emergency situation? Let’s, for argument’s sake, say that we all know the number here in Kurdistan; would you even want to give it a try when you need an ambulance or fire truck?

About a year ago, the maid from next door ran out of their house into ours screaming ‘fire, help, fire’ and I was as panicked as she was because I had no idea what number to dial. After a few phone calls I finally got the number of the “Erbil Civil Defense Directorate”. I explained where we lived and thought that it wouldn’t be very difficult as we live in a well-known compound.

I was thankful when I heard the siren only a few minutes later but lost hope when I saw the truck taking a left where he should’ve taken a right. I got so desperate that I almost ran into the house next door with our own water hose. By the time the truck arrived, neighbors had already taken care of the fire.

It’s not very different when it comes to the ambulance service here in Erbil. Most cars don’t make way for an ambulance with lights or the siren on. Why? ‘He might be in a hurry to eat his lunch.’ My colleague answered. People do not take it serious anymore but what if it is serious? Are we even prepared for that? 

A good book

On a cold winter’s day

When you’re ready to slip away

From this ordinary place

Into imaginary space

Set your mind free

With a cup of tea

In your own cozy and warm bed

Ready to take the next step

Pick up a book and read the words

Let go of all your concerns

The story will take you there

And you’ll be walking on air

It’s the magic of a writer

Who can be an overnighter

But when you’re too tired to stay up

Close your eyes and walk through

A dream where only books can take you

Hawler

30/12/2013

Friesland versus Kurdistan

On one sunny day I was enjoying my very Dutch croquette in the snack bar around the corner of our house when a tall man walked in and ordered something for himself and his family. The man looked old and tired. The young girl behind the bar listened to his order but I noticed that she hadn’t written down anything. After the old man mentioned everything he wanted to order, she smiled and asked the man, in Dutch, if he could repeat what he said but this time in Dutch. I left my croquette for what it was because I didn’t want to miss this. My eyes turned to these people, my ears only wanted to hear their conversation. I leaned forward because this was going to be interesting. I saw something in the eyes of that man, something I’ve seen before but somewhere far away. He was a fighter, this man was furious at the young lady. He answered loudly: “You are here in Friesland, you should learn Frisian. I am not going to change my language because you cannot understand me. Now go get someone who speaks Frisian.” And deep down I felt sympathy and love for this man. He was one of the few Frisians I had come across to in those 20 years who still fought for their independence or difference. He reminded me of us, of Kurds.

There are two languages in the Netherlands: Dutch and Frisian. The Frisian language is the only minority language that has been recognized under part III of the European Charter for Regional or Minority Languages. What this means is that the Netherlands is obliged to take certain actions in order to foster this minority language. There are different methods to promote the language; one of them is by means of education and since 1980 Frisian Language has been a compulsory subject for primary school pupils in the province of Friesland. Unfortunately, our language, Kurdish, is still not a compulsory subject in some parts of Kurdistan.

The history of the Frisians starts around the 6^th century BC. It can be said that a justified termination of this history is in 1813 when Friesland like all other regions becomes a province of the newly formed Kingdom of the Netherlands. Until today Friesland tries to preserve and promote its language, culture and identity but Frisian developments can only take place within the framework of the Dutch state and are therefore limited. Big decisions are not made in the Capital of Friesland Leeuwarden but in The Hague. Big decisions are not made in the Capital of Southern Kurdistan Erbil but in Baghdad and only within the framework of.. Exactly.





The Frisians have their own flag and their own national anthem. They have their own bank, T.V and radio stations. Frisian horses and cows are very popular and even their sports are well known.




 The reason why Friesland isn’t a state? Well, there are some historians who believe that it’s the fault of many Frisians who weren’t patriotic enough in 1813. This reminds me of the Treaty of Sèvres where there was an initial agreement on the boundaries of a Kurdistan but which was rejected by Kurds.

There are so many similarities between Frisians and Kurds, Friesland and Kurdistan. I’m delighted that I had a chance to grow up among them. I learned so much from their rebellious way of thinking. I vote for an independent Friesland and an independent Kurdistan because in the end; Bûter, brea en griene tsiis, wa't dat net sizze kin, is gjin oprjochte Fries.

 

The angel looking face elections

On almost every street corner in the city you will come across a smiling face. Eyes staring at you, some with a unibrow and some with too much make up on. One wears traditional Kurdish clothes; others wear suits and a few try to do it very well; a poster in which they appear with a suit on and one with traditional Kurdish clothes. The streets have been decorated with flags in many different colors; each color representing a party. If I had not known better I would almost think that there is a party every night in this town.

The elections are coming up. The citizens may choose someone who will represent them in the Parliament. The only question is, how do you choose someone if the substantive issues they stand for are not clear? It seems as if the most important thing is ‘which face will lead me’ and not ‘what will happen to my country?’

But I was still curious to know how everyone would vote. I was wondering if they would merely rely on appearance or would they vote for someone they know. Maybe some have even looked into the substantive issues of all those faces. So, the last couple of days i got some hilarious and astonishing answers.

A family member told me that the whole city of Duhok was looking for that angel face. How come no one had noticed her before? They were speculating that she is an inhabitant of that city and he said; I think every man of that city will give his vote to her.

To be honest, I cannot remember who got my vote the previous elections. I think I gave my vote to someone who had a likeable face .I thought I had not engrossed myself in the whole decision-making process. But I know now that it’s very difficult to know what or where representatives of a political party stand for. Thus, electors vote for a random candidate of a political party rather for an individual candidate.

Now that I know that most people do what I’ve done the previous elections, I’m not sure whether I should repeat my actions or not. I would like to give my vote to someone who wants to plant more trees and reduce the number of cars. I like to give my vote to someone that wants to work on improving public transportation; a subway, trams, trains etc. Someone who has thought about a central connection of gas that reaches every home. That person must also stand for an independent Kurdistan of course. Though I have many more points to add but I’m not sure if I will ever find that candidate before the end of the elections.

I’m quite sure that I will choose a good looking face again. The only thing I hope is that this year’s elections will be calm and that it will be as democratic as possible. I hope that if I somehow didn’t manage to go vote they won’t send someone else vote instead of me and I wish every candidate will clean up their faces once the elections are over.

May the ‘best party’ win even though the real winners are flag and poster makers.