Freedom

It was somewhere in 90’s when we were staying at Taban hotel in Permam. It was summer and we had not been in Kurdistan for many years. I didn’t like the weather; it was too hot for me. I was bored and there weren’t any children at the hotel to play with.

 One day a man came to visit my father. I had no idea who he was but I still remember our conversation very clearly. He asked me if I would ever come back to Kurdistan. I answered that I wouldn’t. I believe my answer was negative because that summer had been a disappointment. He smiled and asked “What can I do to make you come back, tell me, what is it that you want?” What a funny guy, I thought. Why would he ask me what I wanted, as if he could ever give me that? Somehow I felt uncomfortable for having these thoughts so I answered his question and this is what I said:

“I want to feel free. To have the freedom to choose whatever I want. To be free from any superpower that wants to control me. I want to be one with nature, to have a mutual understanding, to be in harmony and the only time I feel free and in harmony is when I’m riding a horse. Thus I want a horse.”

I never understood why I said this until last week. It was the first time on the back of a horse in Kurdistan though it wasn’t the horse promised by this man.

I guess I’ve always been nationalistic when it comes to my roots. I always had to fight for my existence as a Kurd, even in the Netherlands. However, when I’m on the back of a horse it is as if the horse and I can conquer every obstacle in our way. We’ll jump, fall, raise and do it again until it’s perfect.

My path in Kurdistan has been the same I guess. I fell, hurt my back and tried again. I won’t give up on my dreams and I hope that this dear man, the current prime minister, won’t either. I have been in Kurdistan for a long time now but I guess he has forgotten that he promised me a horse. I just hope he hasn't forgotten the other part of our conversation.

I’m still waiting for a free Kurdistan, but for now the horse will do.

Import an Asian maid

 

                “A fat one is lazy and eats all the food you have in your refrigerator. Back in my time they didn’t even have pictures to show us, you’re privileged, so don’t pick a good looking one out of all these because she will seduce our men.” The woman smiles as she goes on. “I have mine for a year now but she is very annoying.” The woman is pointing her finger at an Asian looking girl in front of us. “She begs us every day for some credit to call home but she only has the right to call once every two weeks. She went too far yesterday when she asked the neighbor for credit. I am here at the company to discuss her punishment.”

                I am shocked as I look at the Asian girl in front of us. Her head is bend down and she doesn’t look older than 25. She is one of the many housemaids imported to Kurdistan from Asia. These young girls leave their families to come work here for months and some even for years. It is as if it’s the latest fashion to walk around the supermarket with an Asian housemaid following you.

                Nowadays there are several companies here in Kurdistan that imports maids from Nepal, Indonesia, Bangladesh, Malaysia and India. “They clean the house, watch your children and cook. The Indonesian one is cheaper so what else do you want?” says a busy looking man behind a desk as he gives us a couple of CV’s to look at. He talks as if he is selling food or something. I am really shocked but I read them one by one and come to the conclusion that almost all these girls are married and have children. Most of them are not older than 30 and already have work experience in Lebanon or Kuwait. So how long have they been with their children? How hard can life be I ask myself as I stare at the Asian woman still standing in front of us? Maybe she has children too? Maybe that’s why she wants to call home every day? Could you blame her? Should she really be punished? Wouldn’t you do the same if you were that desperate and alone?

                I almost want to walk out of the building as another Kurdish woman with a maid walks in. I’m curious about her story so I stop and turn around to eavesdrop. “My maid wants to speak to the owner of this company.” The Kurdish woman says with confidence. I look at the maid who looks very shy. I hold my breath because I can’t take more disappointments. But when she starts to talk in Kurdish I’m amazed. Her Kurdish is almost perfect when she asks the man behind the desk for extension of her contract. She likes the family she is placed in and does not want to leave Kurdistan.

                I feel a bit better when I leave the building though I’m not sure if I would really want to import a girl from Asia. We have never had an Asian maid but sometimes a Kurdish woman would stop by on a Friday afternoon to clean a few rooms only because she wanted to and because she likes the work. “Kurds don’t work.” Or “It’s better if the woman doesn’t know you and your family.” Is what I hear often when I ask why they have an Asian maid. One woman even said “They can’t steal from you because they can’t get out of the country without their papers therefore it’s better to import an Asian one than to get a Kurdish one.”

                The only thing I hope is that these Asian maids here in Kurdistan will not be abused like they are in other countries. I hope they’re not beaten, raped or threatened and I hope they will have gathered enough money when they go back so that they don’t have to be a maid in another country ever again. A child should grow up with the mother around and we should have more confidence in our own people.

Welcome to Erbil

                Other travelers might think I am insane but I can’t help sing the national Kurdish anthem as I walk in the terminal of Erbil International Airport. After all the wars that we, Kurds, have seen, who could have thought, years ago, that we, Kurds, would have our own international airport? Who could have thought that Erbil, one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world, would become such an attraction to tourists? And, who would have thought that so many Kurds from the other parts of Kurdistan would call Erbil their home?

 

When I exit the airport, I welcome the smell of dust and the warm breeze that ruffles through my hair. “I am home” is the only thought I have as I go look for a taxi to drive me home. Yes, I am also excited to see my friends and family again and I am excited to see the change of Erbil. I’m sure there has not been much change for I’ve only been gone for 8 months.

                “You can make a U-turn over there.” I say with confidence. Erbil has been my home for years now and I know this city like the back of my hand. The driver laughs and does not make a U-turn. My head is spinning as I look at the road; there are so many cars here. What if we get hit? My heart is pounding and I almost whisper “You can’t do this, it’s not allowed!” I’m panicking when he says with a grin on his face; “Girl, you have been abroad for too long; you should let me do my job.” After we crossed the road safely, the air fills my lungs again and I guess the driver is right. In 8 months tremendous change can occur in a city like Erbil. But does it happen so rapidly that I will get lost in my own city? This will be my little challenge for tomorrow.

                As we drive into our neighborhood I start to get nervous. I can’t see our house anymore. It is as if I’m in a whole different place. I am glad when I see the Kurdish flag on our balcony. At least that has not changed. Let’s hope it never will. Let’s hope every Kurd may get the right to let the Kurdish flag wave in the air in every part of Kurdistan.

               I grew up abroad and decided to come back to Erbil so that I can feel, see and touch the change of our nation and this beautiful, old city. I hope you will let me take you on a tour through Erbil.