Kurdish Quotes

Each time a language dies, another flame goes out, another sound goes silent.

Genocide is the responsibility of the entire world.

While I thus cogitate in disquiet and perplexity, half submerged in dark waters of a well in an Arabian oasis, I suddenly hear a voice from the background of my memory, the voice of an old Kurdish nomad: If water stands motionless in a pool it grows stale and muddy, but when it moves and flows it becomes clear: so, too, man in his wanderings. Whereupon, as if by magic, all disquiet leaves me. I begin to look upon myself with distant eyes, as you might look at the pages of a book to read a story from them; and I begin to understand that my life could not have taken a different course. For when I ask myself, 'What is the sum total of my life?' somthing in me seems to answer, 'You have set out to exchange one world for another-to gain a new world for yourself in exchange for an old one which you never really possessed.' And I know with startling clarity that such an undertaking might indeed take an entire lifetime.

Kurdno! Yan nebêjin em Kurd in, Yan jî Kurdî biaxivîn.

Ji bona her kesek yarek heye ê min welat yar e Belê çibkim di destê dijminê xwînxwar û xeddar e.

Is this a Kurdish thing?’ ‘What?’ ‘Being deliberately contradictory?

So I close this long reflection on what I hope is a not-too-quaveringly semi-Semitic note. When I am at home, I will only enter a synagogue for the bar or bat mitzvah of a friend's child, or in order to have a debate with the faithful. (When I was to be wed, I chose a rabbi named Robert Goldburg, an Einsteinian and a Shakespearean and a Spinozist, who had married Arthur Miller to Marilyn Monroe and had a copy of Marilyn’s conversion certificate. He conducted the ceremony in Victor and Annie Navasky's front room, with David Rieff and Steve Wasserman as my best of men.) I wanted to do something to acknowledge, and to knit up, the broken continuity between me and my German-Polish forebears. When I am traveling, I will stop at the shul if it is in a country where Jews are under threat, or dying out, or were once persecuted. This has taken me down queer and sad little side streets in Morocco and Tunisia and Eritrea and India, and in Damascus and Budapest and Prague and Istanbul, more than once to temples that have recently been desecrated by the new breed of racist Islamic gangster. (I have also had quite serious discussions, with Iraqi Kurdish friends, about the possibility of Jews genuinely returning in friendship to the places in northern Iraq from which they were once expelled.) I hate the idea that the dispossession of one people should be held hostage to the victimhood of another, as it is in the Middle East and as it was in Eastern Europe. But I find myself somehow assuming that Jewishness and 'normality' are in some profound way noncompatible. The most gracious thing said to me when I discovered my family secret was by Martin, who after a long evening of ironic reflection said quite simply: 'Hitch, I find that I am a little envious of you.' I choose to think that this proved, once again, his appreciation for the nuances of risk, uncertainty, ambivalence, and ambiguity. These happen to be the very things that 'security' and 'normality,' rather like the fantasy of salvation, cannot purchase.

Ez nizanim ez li benda çi, ew li benda kê ye. Lê jiyan diherike, ne li benda min, ne li benda wê ye.

If the Bahreini royal family can have an embassy, a state, and a seat at the UN, why should the twenty-five million Kurds not have a claim to autonomy? The alleviation of their suffering and the assertion of their self-government is one of the few unarguable benefits of regime change in Iraq. It is not a position from which any moral retreat would be allowable.

1. Bangladesh.... In 1971 ... Kissinger overrode all advice in order to support the Pakistani generals in both their civilian massacre policy in East Bengal and their armed attack on India from West Pakistan.... This led to a moral and political catastrophe the effects of which are still sorely felt. Kissinger’s undisclosed reason for the ‘tilt’ was the supposed but never materialised ‘brokerage’ offered by the dictator Yahya Khan in the course of secret diplomacy between Nixon and China.... Of the new state of Bangladesh, Kissinger remarked coldly that it was ‘a basket case’ before turning his unsolicited expertise elsewhere. 2. Chile.... Kissinger had direct personal knowledge of the CIA’s plan to kidnap and murder General René Schneider, the head of the Chilean Armed Forces ... who refused to countenance military intervention in politics. In his hatred for the Allende Government, Kissinger even outdid Richard Helms ... who warned him that a coup in such a stable democracy would be hard to procure. The murder of Schneider nonetheless went ahead, at Kissinger’s urging and with American financing, just between Allende’s election and his confirmation.... This was one of the relatively few times that Mr Kissinger (his success in getting people to call him ‘Doctor’ is greater than that of most PhDs) involved himself in the assassination of a single named individual rather than the slaughter of anonymous thousands. His jocular remark on this occasion—‘I don’t see why we have to let a country go Marxist just because its people are irresponsible’—suggests he may have been having the best of times.... 3. Cyprus.... Kissinger approved of the preparations by Greek Cypriot fascists for the murder of President Makarios, and sanctioned the coup which tried to extend the rule of the Athens junta (a favoured client of his) to the island. When despite great waste of life this coup failed in its objective, which was also Kissinger’s, of enforced partition, Kissinger promiscuously switched sides to support an even bloodier intervention by Turkey. Thomas Boyatt ... went to Kissinger in advance of the anti-Makarios putsch and warned him that it could lead to a civil war. ‘Spare me the civics lecture,’ replied Kissinger, who as you can readily see had an aphorism for all occasions. 4. Kurdistan. Having endorsed the covert policy of supporting a Kurdish revolt in northern Iraq between 1974 and 1975, with ‘deniable’ assistance also provided by Israel and the Shah of Iran, Kissinger made it plain to his subordinates that the Kurds were not to be allowed to win, but were to be employed for their nuisance value alone. They were not to be told that this was the case, but soon found out when the Shah and Saddam Hussein composed their differences, and American aid to Kurdistan was cut off. Hardened CIA hands went to Kissinger ... for an aid programme for the many thousands of Kurdish refugees who were thus abruptly created.... The apercu of the day was: ‘foreign policy should not he confused with missionary work.’ Saddam Hussein heartily concurred. 5. East Timor. The day after Kissinger left Djakarta in 1975, the Armed Forces of Indonesia employed American weapons to invade and subjugate the independent former Portuguese colony of East Timor. Isaacson gives a figure of 100,000 deaths resulting from the occupation, or one-seventh of the population, and there are good judges who put this estimate on the low side. Kissinger was furious when news of his own collusion was leaked, because as well as breaking international law the Indonesians were also violating an agreement with the United States.... Monroe Leigh ... pointed out this awkward latter fact. Kissinger snapped: ‘The Israelis when they go into Lebanon—when was the last time we protested that?’ A good question, even if it did not and does not lie especially well in his mouth. It goes on and on and on until one cannot eat enough to vomit enough.

Ne xeletîye tu qesta xodê bikey di tengavî o wan demên zehmet yên bi ser te da dihên, belê xeletî ewe tu wî ji bîr bikey demê tu rizgar di bî o di xûşîya da.

We don’t want to have a child that has many illnesses, and that will pass away after a few months. A child must have a good environment, and parents that will take care of it. [...] It [a Kurdish state] must be a part of stability in this area.

The powerlessness of people with pure intentions, in the long run, can sometimes be more powerful than power in the hands of those blinded or depraved by evil tempers.

Never diss somebody’s mum, never play chess with the Kurdish mafia, and never lie down with a woman who’s more magical than you are. I

The image of Kurdish blood pumping through the heart of a little Arab boy like Ahmed was not lost on anyone.

My heart aches for you… for them in you For angels shaking in fright… on a dreadful night For them on site… for flames leaping on every height For blood rolling like thunder… o'er a fragile kite For souls so bright… like remnants of light For a desperate plight… for hands held tight My love, in my world… where no hope is in sight And no right is right… what words can I write? Our song went lost… with main and might I'll tell you tonight… in the hush of midnight Stay here and fight… for a mournful rite

Is Julian really Irish?” Cameron asked Blake as he looked down at his drink. “I have no fucking idea,” Blake answered in frustration. “I’ve never heard him use that one. I’ve heard British, Boston, Spanish, Kurdish, French, Texan, and surfer dude, but never Irish. Might mean it’s the real one, if he never used it,” he said in a distant, rambling tone. Cameron blinked at him. “Surfer... dude?” Blake waved his hand around. “You know, ‘Chillax, bra, we just gotta harvest some dead presidents’ kind of shit.

ئه‌گه‌ر مێشك كار نه‌ كه‌ت، هه‌بوونا گه‌له‌ك كه‌ل وپه‌لا چ مفا نينه. كورد دبێژن : ”رێبه‌رى ژ رێنجبه‌ريێ چێتره‌.

ئاسته‌نگ نه‌شێن ته‌ براوه‌ستينن.. ئاريشه‌ نه‌شێن ته‌ براوه‌ستينن.. خه‌لك نه‌شێن ته‌ براوه‌ستينن.. بتنێ تو خو دراوه‌ستينى ودبى رێگر د رێكا خو دا.

به‌لكو ئه‌و تشتێ جاره‌كێ چێبيت، دووباره‌ نه‌بيت. به‌لێ چ پێنه‌ڤيت ئه‌و تشتێ دوو جارا چێبوو، دێ دووباره‌ بيت.

من ب چ ره‌نگا باوه‌رى ب وێ گوتنه‌ نینه‌ ئه‌وا د بێژیت: "به‌فر فێعلا خو ناهێلیت"، چونکى مروڤ نه‌ به‌فره‌، نه‌ داره‌، نه‌ به‌ره‌، هه‌مى گاڤا شیان یێن هه‌ین خو بگوهوریت.

ژیانا ته‌ ژ ئه‌نجامێ بریار وهزرێن ته‌ نه‌. ئه‌گه‌ر ئه‌و ژیانا تو تێدا دژى نه‌ یا بدلێ ته‌بیت، ده‌م هات تو بریارين خو بگوهورى بهنده‌كين باشتر.

ئه‌گه‌ر ته‌ خو درێژ کره‌ سه‌ر عه‌ردی، تو نه‌شێی لوما ژ وی که‌سی بکه‌ی یێ پێ لته‌ د دانیت، وبزانه‌ که‌س نه‌شێت ته‌ کێم که‌ت، ئه‌گه‌ر نه‌ بهاریکاریا ته‌ بیت.

هندى دلێ ته‌ یێ ب خه‌م بیت ب گرنژه‌؛ گرنژینا ته‌ دێ گرنژینێ ل سه‌ر لێڤێن خه‌لكى په‌یدا كه‌ت، وب وێ گرنژینا ل ده‌ڤ خه‌لكى په‌یدا دكه‌ى، دێ خه‌ما خۆ سڤك كه‌ى و ژ بیر كه‌ى.

They assessed my age and assigned me a birthday.

هەرگیز مێژوو بۆ ئێمەی کورد نەبۆتە وانەیەک بۆ سوود وەرگرتن لە ڕابردوو

Di fesla nûbiharêde Digel dîlber biçim geştê Ji ev xweştir umir nabit Li min ev hal qewî xweş tê.

هین د زانن بوچ د بێژن "کوردستان خه‌ونا شاعێرایه‌." ژبه‌رکو ڤێت تو شاعێر بی و یێ نڤستی بی هه‌تا د مه‌سه‌لـێ بگه‌هی.

Li ser sebrekê û du pifikane

تو بتنێ به‌رپرسى ژ خوشیا خو. ئه‌گه‌ر تو بو خو خوشیێ په‌یدا نه‌که‌ی، تو کارێن خو ئه‌نجام نه‌ده‌ی، ته‌ باوه‌رى ب خو نه‌بیت، تو حه‌ژ خو نه‌که‌ی، ل هیڤیا که‌سێ نه‌ به‌ بو ته‌ ڤان کارا بکه‌ت.

A whole new life at fifty, all because I had become entranced with both the Turkish culture and with Kazim—who one friend called a careening festival of a human being and another called an alcoholic Kurdish carpet salesman. I called him a catalyst.

Richards remembered the day - that glorious and terrible day - watching the planes slam into the towers, the image repeated in endless loops. The fireballs, the bodies falling, the liquefaction of a billion tons of steel and concrete, the pillowing clouds of dust. The money shot of the new millennium, the ultimate reality show broadcast 24-7. Richards had been in Jakarta when it happened, he couldn't even remember why. He'd thought it right then; no, he'd felt it, right down to his bones. A pure, unflinching rightness. You had to give the military something to do of course, or they'd all just fucking shoot each other. But from that day forward, the old way of doing things was over. The war - the real war, the one that had been going on for a thousand years and would go on for a thousand thousand more - the war between Us and Them, between the Haves and the Have-Nots, between my gods and your gods, whoever you are - would be fought by men like Richards: men with faces you didn't notice and couldn't remember, dressed as busboys or cab drivers or mailmen, with silencers tucked up their sleeves. It would be fought by young mothers pushing ten pounds of C-4 in baby strollers and schoolgirls boarding subways with vials of sarin hidden in their Hello Kitty backpacks. It would be fought out of the beds of pickup trucks and blandly anonymous hotel rooms near airports and mountain caves near nothing at all; it would be waged on train platforms and cruise ships, in malls and movie theaters and mosques, in country and in city, in darkness and by day. It would be fought in the name of Allah or Kurdish nationalism or Jews for Jesus or the New York Yankees - the subjects hadn't changed, they never would, all coming down, after you'd boiled away the bullshit, to somebody's quarterly earnings report and who got to sit where - but now the war was everywhere, metastasizing like a million maniac cells run amok across the planet, and everyone was in it.

after the war, historian Marilyn Young warned: The U.S. can destroy Iraq’s highways, but not build its own; create the conditions for epidemic in Iraq, but not offer health care to millions of Americans. It can excoriate Iraqi treatment of the Kurdish minority, but not deal with domestic race relations; create homelessness abroad but not solve it here; keep a half million troops drug free as part of a war, but refuse to fund the treatment of millions of drug addicts at home. . . . We shall lose the war after we have won it.

Little by little, we began to understand that our mother tongue wasn’t the language of power and prosperity. At a young age, our alienation from Kurdish history and literature – from our roots, identity, and inevitably our parents – began, escalating with each year that passed.

Union" I don’t know how to become one with you. If you’re heaven, then tell me. I will kneel to every god. If you’re hell, then tell me. I will fill the earth with sin. I don’t know how to become one with you. If you’re an invaded soil, then tell me. I will make my skin your flag. If you are, as I am, a gypsy, draw a border around me: make me your country. — Abdulla Pashew, “Union.” Translated by Words without Borders: Kurdish Literature. January 2014.

تەنها مانۆڤرێكی سیاسی هوشیار ئەتوانێت ئەم دۆخە هێوركاتەوە

Eğer bir halk kendi geleneğine sarılır, kendi dilini kullanır ve kültürünü canlı tutarsa, bu da bir başkaldırıdır. Ama gerçek başkaldırı, silahlı olandır.

Ji bilî zincîrên xwe tiştekî ku proleter ji dest bidin nîn e. Lê cîhaneke ku bi dest bixin heye. Karkerên hemû welatan, bibin yek!

In the Kurdish part of town, he saw many children with blonde hair and blue or green eyes. There were even some with hair red as fire.

If the caged birds think whoever scattering grains for them that person is their deity, what should we Kurds call the person who will grantee us an independence.

Our children's won't learn Kurdish Language fluently if we don't tech them.

The memory of Mullah Mustafa Barzani has become a crucial part of the idea of what it means to be Kurdish today.

In this country we are subhuman. We’re women, and we’re also Kurdish. I need some dignity, something to hope for.

There’s only one way this will end for me. I realized that the moment I saw a man I respected and admired slit a Kurdish dissident’s throat.

With a metal heart I came to this life, My head was a crucible, full of elixir. Pearl by pearl My heart was poured, Drop by drop My head was splashed. The world was entirely a magnet.

زۆر جار بەتەنیا بە دیار ئاوێنەوە دادەنیشم وە سەیری خۆم ئەكەم، ئەلێم باشە مرۆڤ جۆن وا زوو ناشرین ئەبێ. كە چی دایكی بەرەحمەتیم هەمیشە ئەی ووت كوڕم خەم مەخۆ چەند بەتەمەن تر ئەكەوی جوانتر ئەبی

Do you know there’s no word in Kurdish for plan? You get worried if someone’s on time, because it means they have bad news. Or they want something. Also, I said I might come. Not that I would.

But the idea of a peace dividend could not be stifled so long as Americans were in need. Shortly after the war, historian Marilyn Young warned: The U.S. can destroy Iraq's highways, but not build its own; create the conditions for epidemic in Iraq, but not offer health care to millions of Americans. It can excoriate Iraqi treatment of the Kurdish minority, but not deal with domestic race relations; create homelessness abroad but not solve it here; keep a half million troops drug free as part of a war, but refuse to fund the treatment of millions of drug addicts at home. . . . . We shall lose the war after we have won it.

The war—the real war, the one that had been going on for a thousand years and would go on for a thousand thousand more—the war between Us and Them, between the Haves and the Have-Nots, between my gods and your gods, whoever you are—would be fought by men like Richards: men with faces you didn’t notice and couldn’t remember, dressed as busboys or cab drivers or mailmen, with silencers tucked up their sleeves. It would be fought by young mothers pushing ten pounds of C-4 in baby strollers and schoolgirls boarding subways with vials of sarin hidden in their Hello Kitty backpacks. It would be fought out of the beds of pickup trucks and blandly anonymous hotel rooms near airports and mountain caves near nothing at all; it would be waged on train platforms and cruise ships, in malls and movie theaters and mosques, in country and in city, in darkness and by day. It would be fought in the name of Allah or Kurdish nationalism or Jews for Jesus or the New York Yankees—the subjects hadn’t changed, they never would, all coming down, after you’d boiled away the bullshit, to somebody’s quarterly earnings report and who got to sit where—but now the war was everywhere, metastasizing like a million maniac cells run amok across the planet, and everyone was in it.

We used to be brothers and sisters here. Kurdish, did not know he was. Turkmenians, Germans, they all existed here but never were proud of it. That pride was only distributed by the powers who aimed to destroy Turkey.

While my library contains the works of travel writers, I have mostly searched for those who speak about their own place in the world. But the world is changing and many people have no place to call home. Some of the most important kinds of travel writing now are stories of flight, written by people who belong to the millions of asylum seekers in the world. These are stories that are almost too hard to tell, but which, once read, will never be forgotten. Some of these stories had to be smuggled out of detention centres, or were caught covertly on smuggled mobiles in snatches of calls on weak connections from remote and distant prisons. Why is this writing important? Behrouz Boochani, a Kurdish journalist and human rights campaigner who has been detained on Manus Island for over three years with no hope for release yet in sight, puts it plainly in a message to the world in the anthology Behind the Wire. It is, he wrote, ‘because we need to change our imagination’.

دناڤ وان هەمى ئاریشە وگرفتێن دکەڤنە درێکا مندا، ئەز بو خو خودێ دگەل ته بيت چێدکەم. لسەر دەریایا بێ ئومێدیێ، من شیا بو خو پرەکێ ژ هیڤى وئومێدا ئاڤا بکەم. لسەر وێ ڕێکا تاڕى، من شیا بو خو چرایەکى هەلکەم. دناڤ وان هەمى کەسێن نەحەز وتژى کەرب وکین، من شیا دلێ خو بحەژێکرن وڤیانێ پڕکەم. ژ هەمى خەلەتیێن من کرین فێربووم ،و من شیا قوتابخانەکێ پێ ئاڤاکەم. ژ بەر ئێش وئازارێن خو، من شیا خوشیێ ل دەوروبەرێن خو بەلاڤ کەم. ب وان ڕوندکێن من رشتین، ئەز شیام دارو گیا وکولیلکا بو بوهارەکا تژى هیڤى ئاڤاكه م.

I reiterate my dedication to advocating for effective preventive strategies to end gun violence once and for all. In the face of the rising tensions and the widespread proliferation of small arms and light weapons, we call on everyone to join us to build conditions that will make world peace more likely. We all know that the road to building peace goes through ending conflicts and silencing the guns.

You might think that the Left could have a regime-change perspective of its own, based on solidarity with its comrades abroad. After all, Saddam's ruling Ba'ath Party consolidated its power by first destroying the Iraqi communist and labor movements, and then turning on the Kurds (whose cause, historically, has been one of the main priorities of the Left in the Middle East). When I first became a socialist, the imperative of international solidarity was the essential if not the defining thing, whether the cause was popular or risky or not. I haven't seen an anti-war meeting all this year at which you could even guess at the existence of the Iraqi and Kurdish opposition to Saddam, an opposition that was fighting for 'regime change' when both Republicans and Democrats were fawning over Baghdad as a profitable client and geopolitical ally. Not only does the 'peace' movement ignore the anti-Saddam civilian opposition, it sends missions to console the Ba'athists in their isolation, and speaks of the invader of Kuwait and Iran and the butcher of Kurdistan as if he were the victim and George W. Bush the aggressor.

The right of self-determination of the peoples includes the right to a state of their own. However, the foundation of a state does not increase the freedom of a people. The system of the United Nations that is based on nation-states has remained inefficient. Meanwhile, nation-states have become serious obstacles for any social development. Democratic confederalism is the contrasting paradigm of the oppressed people. Democratic confederalism is a non-state social paradigm. It is not controlled by a state. At the same time, democratic confederalism is the cultural organizational blueprint of a democratic nation. Democratic confederalism is based on grassroots participation. Its decision-making processes lie with the communities. Higher levels only serve the coordination and implementation of the will of the communities that send their delegates to the general assemblies. For limited space of time they are both mouthpiece and executive institution. However, the basic power of decision rests with the local grassroots institutions.

Çima rûyê xwe tirş bikim? Min ji xortanîya xwe tu xêr nedît ku ji pîrbûna xwe bitirsim. Min şêraniya dînê tam nekir ku talbûna axiretê madê min tirş bike.

Tiştê herî bixof ew e ku tu bizanî însanek li hêviya te ye.

هەموومان لە حەقیقەت هەلدێین، ڕۆژێک دێت حەقیقەت یەخەمان دەگرێت و دادگایمان دەکات٫ ئەو کاتە پەنجەی پەشیمانی دەگەزین و هیچ دادمان نادات

دڤێت تو دەستا ژ هندەك خەونێن خو بەردەى، دا گەلەك نە هێيه ئێشاندن دەما تو هشيار دبى.

هەتا دار سيبەرێ بدەت، دڤێت تا وچەقێن خو بچەمينيت، هەتا شەمالك روناهيێ بەلاڤبكەت، دڤێت بەژنا خو بحەلينيت.

وەكى گولێ بە؛ دەمێ دهێتە گڤاشتن وپەرچقاندن، پتر بێهنا خو بەلاڤ دكەت، تو ژى دەما دهێيە ئێشاندن وئازاردان، پتر ڤيانا خو بەلاڤ بكە.

ئەز يێ ل مرنێ دگەرم، مرن ژى يا ل من دگەريت. ئەز نزانم دێ كەنگى گەهينە ئێك!

ئەگەر خەونێن مە هەمى ببانە راستى، چ جياوازى دناڤبەرا دونيا وبەهەشتێ دا نە دبوو.

ئه‌ز وه‌كو ته‌ هزر ناكم، له‌و تو هزر دكه‌ى كو هزرناكم.

پڕاسییا ئاده‌مى مه‌زنترین كارگه‌ها دورستكرنا ئه‌زمانان بوو د ژیانێ دا.

ئای چەند سەختە... بە تاسەی خۆشەویسی یەکەمەوە بمریت کە .دەزانیت ھەرگیز پێی ناگەیت

.تۆ وەک ڕەوە ئاسکێکی پڕشنگدار ڕادەکەیت و منیش تاریکم، من دارستانم

.من خه‌ون به‌ نیگاره‌كانمه‌وه‌ ده‌بینم، دواتر خه‌ونه‌كانم ده‌كێشم

من مرۆڤێکی باشم، بەڵام نووسەرێکی پەڕپووتم. تۆ مرۆڤێکی پەڕپووتی، بەڵام نووسەرێکی باشیت. بە هەردووکمان تیمێکی باش پێک دەهێنین

.ده‌زانی... كه‌ دڵت زۆر ته‌نگ بوو، حه‌ز به‌ ئاوابوونی خۆر ده‌كه‌یت

له‌وانه‌یه‌ شتێك هه‌بێت بترسیت له‌ گوتنی، یان كه‌سێك هه‌بێت بترسیت له‌ خۆشویستنی، یان شوێنێك هه‌بێت بترسیت له‌ چوونی. ئه‌وه‌ ئازارت ده‌دات. ئه‌وه‌ ئازارت ده‌دات چونكه‌ گرنگه‌

هيچ نەتەوەیك لە ئازارەکانی میللەتی کورد تێناگە تەنها خودی كورد نەبێت

. . . this book consciously centres stories of resistance and victory. Not because things are perfect, but because things are possible – through faith and struggle.

لە هیچ سوچێکی گۆی زەویدا میللەتێك نیە هێندەی کورد بێ ماف بێت، وە هیچ میللەتێك نیە هێندەی كورد بێ كەس بێت

Bimre sîxurê tarîyê! Bijî ronahî!

One thing was clear. Public opinion would never be on our side. Richard Kerbaj, Murdoch, Trump, Alistair Burt, Javid, FCO, a weak Labour party, Brexit, populism, Twitter, and general Islamophobia had all made sure of that.

A moment later, Vesta became aware that her life was passing her by in that busy city, where no man could capture her heart… What if she married someone, who wasn’t mentally prepared to keep his Zoroastrian identity intact? Or what if her future husband was forced to convert to Islam? What if he tried to force her to convert as well? What if he suddenly decided to become an extremist and called for Sharia Laws in Kurdland? She shivered at the thought.

People deserve to know about that. They need to understand, not so that they can pity the region, but simply because it helps to explain so much of the way Kurdistan has tried to improve itself afterwards. They need to understand to stop it from ever happening again. They need to understand, because it is unacceptable that a genocide that was essentially ignored by many countries around the world at the time should be continued to be ignored by history

Like the Armenians, the Assyrian Christians of the Ottoman Empire were accused of making common cause with Russia at the outset of the Great War. The Assyrians are a Christian ethnic group who speak dialects derived from ancient Aramaic. For centuries they lived among the Kurdish communities in the border regions of the modern states of Turkey, Syria, Iran, and Iraq. The Nestorians, Chaldeans, and Syrian Orthodox Christians are the main Assyrian denominations.

What’s crucial in this whole process is that you don’t matter. You as an individual—your aspirations, your ideas about what is right—mean absolutely nothing. And that’s when you understand why people get radicalized. I completely understand why somebody would join ISIS or al-Qaeda or the Assad regime or the Kurdish groups. You are in dire need for a narrative that can justify this futility. There has to be a point. So you become radical. This suffering has to be for a reason. Otherwise it’s too painful.

Abdullah Öcalan is not only a theorist; he is the leader of a movement that strives not only for the liberation of Kurdish people, but also to find answers to the question of how to live meaningfully. This is why his writings have such impact on the lives of so many. He has been concerned with the issue of women’s freedom all his life, and especially so during the struggle. He strongly encouraged women in the movement to take up the struggle against male dominance, providing inspiration through his critique of patriarchy.

Rolf Ekeus came round to my apartment one day and showed me the name of the Iraqi diplomat who had visited the little West African country of Niger: a statelet famous only for its production of yellowcake uranium. The name was Wissam Zahawi. He was the brother of my louche gay part-Kurdish friend, the by-now late Mazen. He was also, or had been at the time of his trip to Niger, Saddam Hussein's ambassador to the Vatican. I expressed incomprehension. What was an envoy to the Holy See doing in Niger? Obviously he was not taking a vacation. Rolf then explained two things to me. The first was that Wissam Zahawi had, when Rolf was at the United Nations, been one of Saddam Hussein's chief envoys for discussions on nuclear matters (this at a time when the Iraqis had functioning reactors). The second was that, during the period of sanctions that followed the Kuwait war, no Western European country had full diplomatic relations with Baghdad. TheVatican was the sole exception, so it was sent a very senior Iraqi envoy to act as a listening post. And this man, a specialist in nuclear matters, had made a discreet side trip to Niger. This was to suggest exactly what most right-thinking people were convinced was not the case: namely that British intelligence was on to something when it said that Saddam had not ceased seeking nuclear materials in Africa. I published a few columns on this, drawing at one point an angry email from Ambassador Zahawi that very satisfyingly blustered and bluffed on what he'd really been up to. I also received—this is what sometimes makes journalism worthwhile—a letter from a BBC correspondent named Gordon Correa who had been writing a book about A.Q. Khan. This was the Pakistani proprietor of the nuclear black market that had supplied fissile material to Libya, North Korea, very probably to Syria, and was open for business with any member of the 'rogue states' club. (Saddam's people, we already knew for sure, had been meeting North Korean missile salesmen in Damascus until just before the invasion, when Kim Jong Il's mercenary bargainers took fright and went home.) It turned out, said the highly interested Mr. Correa, that his man Khan had also been in Niger, and at about the same time that Zahawi had. The likelihood of the senior Iraqi diplomat in Europe and the senior Pakistani nuclear black-marketeer both choosing an off-season holiday in chic little uranium-rich Niger… well, you have to admit that it makes an affecting picture. But you must be ready to credit something as ridiculous as that if your touching belief is that Saddam Hussein was already 'contained,' and that Mr. Bush and Mr. Blair were acting on panic reports, fabricated in turn by self-interested provocateurs.

is highly probable that Kurdish language and culture began to develop during the fourth ice age (20,000–15,000 BC). The Kurds are one of the oldest indigenous populations in the Middle Eastern region. About 6,000 BC they became distinct from other cultures. Historiography first mentions the Kurds as an ethnic group related to the Hurrians (3,000–2,000 BC). So it is assumed that the predecessors of the Kurds, the Hurrians and the descendants of the Hurrians – the Mittani, the Nairi, the Urarteans and the Medes – all lived in tribal confederations and kingdoms at the time. Kurdish society at

His voice was reassuring and calm, his expression soft, his eyes brighter than ever. Oh Ahura Mazda, she’d never wanted any man so intently in all her life. She ached to have him touch her, kiss her, taste her. And Ivar did as she wished. He put her hand to his nose to smell her skin, kissed her inner wrist to taste her, his lips lingered over her racing pulse. Finally, it was confirmed in actions and direct words, spoken aloud and repeated seven times… She felt the rush of desire ripping through her body, an intense sensation of warmth upon her skin, the blissful waves of uneasiness swamped through her, tingling her nerves.

Since the settlement area of the Kurds spans the present territories of Arabs, Persians and Turks, the Kurdish question necessarily concerns most of the region. A solution in one part of Kurdistan also affects other parts of Kurdistan and neighbouring countries. Conversely, the destructive approach of actors in one country may have negative effects on potential solutions to the Kurdish question in other countries. The rugged Kurdish landscape is practically made for armed struggle, and the Kurds have been fighting colonisation or conquest by foreign powers since time immemorial. Resistance has become part of their life and culture.

A stack of Hawlatis on a ring-stained coffee table conjured the ardent recycler I’d broken up with two months before. Also on this table were an open can of Wild Tiger and a porcelain ashtray made to look like a crumpled Camels pack, completing a sort of Kurdish bachelor-pad tableau that inevitably led to comparisons with my own hermitic home life. But for a few moments there, distracted by the ashtray’s uncanny verisimilitude, I did succeed in not thinking about my singleness, nor about my dissertation, nor about when I was going to learn the results of my latest grant application and not about the long drive to Baghdad my parents and I were intending to make the following day—I was not even thinking about the drift and worthiness of my thinking—and I suppose another way of saying all this is I was happy.

You have certain hopes,” he began, the subject making him visibly uncomfortable. “You do this as a nostalgic trip, and nostalgia is you feel like you will see a place again. And when you see nothing is left, it’s in a way a comment on life itself. You see that life doesn’t stand still. Nothing waits for you to visit it again. The river keeps flowing. It may be smaller. But still it flows. And with it your life flows by. This is what life basically is.

Ne mîne li hîvya çi kesa da bhên o te dil xush biken o jîyana te bashte biken.. Shertanê li ser çi kesan neke ko dê hên o te rizgar ken. Tu xodanê peyva dest pêkê o pêngava dest pêkê be, o destê xo bgre harîkarîya xo bike o bizane xodê harî wî kesî diket yê harî xo diket. Eger te ew kes ne dît te dil xush biket, tu bxo xo dil xush bike. Eger te ew kes ne dît bu te shemalkekê helket, li êkê dî ne gerhe shemalkên te bi vemrînît. Neçe bîyabanê o li gûlên ciwan bi gerhe, tu hîç tshtekî li bîyabanê nabînî ji blî strî o dehlîya. Tu bitnê dishêy wê jîyanê bu xo avakey ya di hzr û xeyalên te da. Kes na hêt o xewnêt te o hez o hîvîyên te bikete rastî, evca ji xew rabe o kar bike bu hîvîyên xo. Serê xo bilind ke o eger tarî bi ser te da hat li rûnahîyê bi gerhe o bizane heyv ya li hîvya te. Çi dergeha li xo ne gre , çûnkî de her rojek hêt pêdvî wî dergehî bî. Torre ne be demê kesek axftneka ne ciwan di bêjît te o bizane ew kesatîya xo pênase diket ne ya te. Bawerîyê bi xo o bê hîvî nebe, beref xewnên xo ve here . Çi car rêka xo ne ber de, eger rêk çenda dirêj bît, xo dana çîya bît, xo bihêz bike o geshbîn be. Ya çoy ji bîr ke, o bizane di gel helatna rojeka nî, delîvên nî dihên o pshtî zvstana dijwar dê bûhar hêt o gûl dê vebn. Ev gerdûne xodê yê bu te çêkrî, supasîya wî bike ko tu day saxlem. Di gel xodê be o dê ew te parêzît o xewnên te di gel wî de bine rastî.

Through their wickedness we were divided amongst ourselves; and the better to keep their thrones and be at ease, they armed the Druze to fight the Arab, and stirred up the Shiite to attack the Sunnite, and encouraged the Kurdish to butcher the Bedouin, and cheered the Mohammedan to dispute with the Christian. Until when shall a brother continue killing his own brother upon his mother's bosom? Until when shall the Cross be kept apart from the Crescent before the eyes of God? Oh Liberty, hear us, and speak in behalf of but one individual, for a great fire is started with a small spark. Oh Liberty, awaken but one heart with the rustling of thy wings, for from one cloud alone comes the lightning which illuminates the pits of the valleys and the tops of the mountains. Disperse with thy power these black clouds and descend like thunder and destroy the thrones that were built upon the bones and skulls of our ancestors.

After the plates are removed by the silent and swift waiting staff, General Çiller leans forward and says across the table to Güney, ‘What’s this I’m reading in Hürriyet about Strasbourg breaking up the nation?’ ‘It’s not breaking up the nation. It’s a French motion to implement European Regional Directive 8182 which calls for a Kurdish Regional Parliament.’ ‘And that’s not breaking up the nation?’ General Çiller throws up his hands in exasperation. He’s a big, square man, the model of the military, but he moves freely and lightly ‘The French prancing all over the legacy of Atatürk? What do you think, Mr Sarioğlu?’ The trap could not be any more obvious but Ayşe sees Adnan straighten his tie, the code for, Trust me, I know what I’m doing, ‘What I think about the legacy of Atatürk, General? Let it go. I don’t care. The age of Atatürk is over.’ Guests stiffen around the table, breath subtly indrawn; social gasps. This is heresy. People have been shot down in the streets of Istanbul for less. Adnan commands every eye. ‘Atatürk was father of the nation, unquestionably. No Atatürk, no Turkey. But, at some point every child has to leave his father. You have to stand on your own two feet and find out if you’re a man. We’re like kids that go on about how great their dads are; my dad’s the strongest, the best wrestler, the fastest driver, the biggest moustache. And when someone squares up to us, or calls us a name or even looks at us squinty, we run back shouting ‘I’ll get my dad, I’ll get my dad!’ At some point; we have to grow up. If you’ll pardon the expression, the balls have to drop. We talk the talk mighty fine: great nation, proud people, global union of the noble Turkic races, all that stuff. There’s no one like us for talking ourselves up. And then the EU says, All right, prove it. The door’s open, in you come; sit down, be one of us. Move out of the family home; move in with the other guys. Step out from the shadow of the Father of the Nation. ‘And do you know what the European Union shows us about ourselves? We’re all those things we say we are. They weren’t lies, they weren’t boasts. We’re good. We’re big. We’re a powerhouse. We’ve got an economy that goes all the way to the South China Sea. We’ve got energy and ideas and talent - look at the stuff that’s coming out of those tin-shed business parks in the nano sector and the synthetic biology start-ups. Turkish. All Turkish. That’s the legacy of Atatürk. It doesn’t matter if the Kurds have their own Parliament or the French make everyone stand in Taksim Square and apologize to the Armenians. We’re the legacy of Atatürk. Turkey is the people. Atatürk’s done his job. He can crumble into dust now. The kid’s come right. The kid’s come very right. That’s why I believe the EU’s the best thing that’s ever happened to us because it’s finally taught us how to be Turks.’ General Çiller beats a fist on the table, sending the cutlery leaping. ‘By God, by God; that’s a bold thing to say but you’re exactly right.

It is not a small thing I want...but it is very important to the Kurds, to all Kurds. Perhaps it would be too easy to ask you to simply be a partisan of the Kurds in the counsels of your country, but it is more than that. We ask you to explain our situation so that all people in your country may understand and appreciate our struggle. It is the Kurd who will decide the direction and activity of his own political future, but a great deal of our hope will depend upon the final attitude of friendship or enmity from the powerful Englis . Perhaps all over the world there are primitive peoples like the Kurd, seeking independence, political expression, and material progress. There are certain things that we can do for ourselves, but so much depends upon the large countries. Their governments shape the primitive states by rich and powerful influence. Much of the responsibility for our situation therefore depends upon the people of your own country. If they apathetic and ignorant of our Kurdish aspirations; If they make no attempt to influence the direction of their own government in dealing with our affairs; then all will depend on ourselves alone. That would mean reluctant but necessary and bloody and terrible struggle because I would warn your Ministers that we cannot give up until we have achieved national sovereignty and our equal right among all people. It is therefore a vital and great service that I ask you, dear Brother, because our immediate hope of urgent success will depend on the strength and deliberation of those who oppose our aims. If the Englis continue to turn all their influence and strength against us, and against the Azerbaijani, they will choke the first great breath of our free choice as men. It will never destroy us, but it will be a bitter, hateful, shameful thing, and the Englis will live for ever in our history as despicable wretches who break the spirit of all advancement. That is why we desperately need support among the people and the counsels of your country. So much may depend on it, and so many decisions at Sauj Bulaq will be clearer and simpler if we know that in your country there is an active partisan of the Kurd; a partisan who understands and appreciates the Kurdish struggle for political autonomy and material advancement: a friend and a true brother. Dare I ask more of thee, Englis ?

Firstly, the Azerbaijanian struggle for a measure of autonomy and self-government is genuine and is locally inspired. The facts of history and existing conditions show that Azerbaijan has always been struggling to overthrow the feudal conditions imposed upon it (and upon the rest of Iran) by corrupt Iranian Governments. Secondly, the extent of Russian interference appeared to be negligible. In our travels we saw few Russian troops, and in Kurdistan we saw none at all. The leaders of the Azerbaijanian Government are not Russians but Azerbaijanians, and with few exceptions their sole aim seems to be the recovery and improvement and economic reform of Azerbaijan. There may be some Russian influence by indirect means, but I would suggest that it is less than our own influence in Iran which we exercise by direct control of ministers, political parties, state financiers, and by petty bribery. As for Kurdish Independence. The Kurds ask for an independence of their own making, not an independence sponsored by the British Government. Like the Azerbaijanians the Kurds are seeking real autonomy, and more than that, self-determination. Our present scheme to take them over and use them as a balancing factor in the political affairs of the Middle East is a reflection upon the honest of our intentions, and a direct blow at the spirit of all good men.

The war against ISIS in Iraq was a long, hard slog, and for a time the administration was as guilty of hyping progress as the most imaginative briefers at the old “Five O’Clock Follies” in Saigon had been. In May 2015, an ISIS assault on Ramadi and a sandstorm that grounded U.S. planes sent Iraqi forces and U.S. Special Forces embedded with them fleeing the city. Thanks to growing hostility between the Iraqi government and Iranian-supported militias in the battle, the city wouldn’t be taken until the end of the year. Before it was over we had sent well over five thousand military personnel back to Iraq, including Special Forces operators embedded as advisors with Iraqi and Kurdish units. A Navy SEAL, a native Arizonan whom I had known when he was a boy, was killed in northern Iraq. His name was Charles Keating IV, the grandson of my old benefactor, with whom I had been implicated all those years ago in the scandal his name had branded. He was by all accounts a brave and fine man, and I mourned his loss. Special Forces operators were on the front lines when the liberation of Mosul began in October 2016. At immense cost, Mosul was mostly cleared of ISIS fighters by the end of July 2017, though sporadic fighting continued for months. The city was in ruins, and the traumatized civilian population was desolate. By December ISIS had been defeated everywhere in Iraq. I believe that had U.S. forces retained a modest but effective presence in Iraq after 2011 many of these tragic events might have been avoided or mitigated. Would ISIS nihilists unleashed in the fury and slaughter of the Syrian civil war have extended their dystopian caliphate to Iraq had ten thousand or more Americans been in country? Probably, but with American advisors and airpower already on the scene and embedded with Iraqi security forces, I think their advance would have been blunted before they had seized so much territory and subjected millions to the nightmare of ISIS rule. Would Maliki have concentrated so much power and alienated Sunnis so badly that the insurgency would catch fire again? Would Iran’s influence have been as detrimental as it was? Would Iraqis have collaborated to prevent a full-scale civil war from erupting? No one can answer for certain. But I believe that our presence there would have had positive effects. All we can say for certain is that Iraq still has a difficult road to walk, but another opportunity to progress toward that hopeful vision of a democratic, independent nation that’s learned to accommodate its sectarian differences, which generations of Iraqis have suffered without and hundreds of thousands of Americans risked everything for.

If you knew which levers to pull, you could stop time just long enough to save the things you love most.

Under Saddam Hussein, speaking Kurdish was against the law, which effectively made it a dying language - like a dialect of Native American Cherokee, it didn't have much use outside of the tribe. By speaking it, it seemed I was touching the very soul of every man and woman in the room, and they weren't shy about telling me how much it meant to them.

ئه‌و پوش و په‌ڵاشانه‌ی که‌ئه‌بنه‌ پاشماوه‌ی گه‌نمو جۆکان ڕۆژێک دادێت سوودمان پێ ئه‌به‌خشن یانیش ئه‌بنه‌ سه‌وزایی به‌هار

The Assyrian campaign also made the career of the Kurdish general responsible, Bakr Sidqi, who was portrayed as both an Iraqi and an Islamic hero, the nemesis of the British. In 1936, he built on this fame to launch the first military coup in modern Iraqi (and Arab) history. If Christians were traitors, then punishing them was patriotic.

In a short essay called ‘Liberating Life: Women’s Revolution’, Öcalan (2013) outlines the core tenets of his sociological/historico-philosophical writings. Öcalan’s fundamental claim is that ‘mainstream civilisation’, commences with the enslavement of ‘Woman’, through what he calls ‘Housewifisation’ (2013). As such, it is only through a ‘struggle against the foundations of this ruling system’ (2013), that not only women, but also men can achieve freedom, and slavery can be destroyed. Any liberation of life, for Öcalan, can only be achieved through a Woman’s revolution. In his own words: ‘If I am to be a freedom fighter, I cannot just ignore this: woman’s revolution is a revolution within a revolution’ (2013). For Öcalan, the Neolithic era is crucial, as the heyday of the matricentric social order. The figure of the Woman is quite interesting, and is not just female gender, but rather a condensation of all that is ‘equal’ and ‘natural’ and ‘social’, and its true significance is seen as a mode of social governance, which is non-hierarchical, non-statist, and not premised upon accumulation (2013). This can only be fully seen, through the critique of ‘civilisation’ which is equally gendered and equated with the rise of what he calls the ‘dominant male’ and hegemonic sexuality. These forms of power as coercive are embodied in the institution of masculine civilisation. And power in the matriarchal structures are understood more as authority, they are natural/organic. What further characterised the Neolithic era is the ways through which society was based upon solidarity and sharing – no surplus in production, and a respect for nature. In such a social order, Öcalan finds through his archaeology of ‘sociality’ the traces of an ecological ontology, in which nature is ‘alive and animated’, and thus no different from the people themselves. The ways in which Öcalan figures ‘Woman’, serves as metaphor for the Kurdish nation-as-people (not nation-state). In short, if one manages to liberate woman, from the hegemonic ‘civilisation’ of ‘the dominant male’, one manages to liberate, not only the Kurds, but the world. It is only on this basis that the conditions of possibility for a genuine global democratic confederalism, and a solution to the conflicts of the Middle East can be thinkable. Once it is thinkable, then we can imagine a freedom to organise, to be free from any conception of ownership (of property, persons, or the self), a freedom to show solidarity, to restore balance to life, nature, and other humans through ‘love’, not power. In Rojava, The Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria, Öcalan’s political thoughts are being implemented, negotiated and practised. Such a radical experiment, which connects theory with practice has not been seen on this scale, ever before, and although the Rojava administration, the Democratic Union Party, is different from the PKK, they share the same political leader, Öcalan. Central to this experiment are commitments to feminism, ecology and justice.

Many languages, including Vietnamese, Kurdish and Kazakh, do not distinguish blue and green as English does.

Although he was known as a scholarly and deeply reflective officer, Trump latched on to Mattis’s reputation and, uncomfortably for Mattis, a nickname that he deeply disliked: “Mad Dog.” When Mattis was introduced to a crowd for the first time as Trump’s nominee, Trump delighted in the fact that the crowd started chanting, “Mad Dog! Mad Dog!” Almost from that point forward, the mismatch—the oil-and-water personalities of the superficial, glib, impetuous Trump and that of his intellectual, measured, deeply principled secretary of defense—began to slowly fall apart. For Mattis “it was just a matter of time.” The split finally occurred in 2018, following President Trump’s decision to withdraw US troops from Syria and abandon America’s long-standing and courageous Kurdish allies.