The Kurds: Survival in a Land of Desolation

by Shapol Mohamed

I get asked where I am from all the time and every time I say I am from Kurdistan. In reaction their faces scrunches up with confusion whilst nodding for a moment, as if they know the place well, and then they ask with hesitation “where is Kurdistan?”  Well, Kurdistan is, depending on your political viewpoint, a country or region where Kurds live and it is split up between Iraq, Iran, Syria, Turkey, Russia and Armenia.

The Kurds are the largest ethnic group without their own country. This is because the Kurds have been discriminated against by their fellow human beings for centuries. First, they were killed by the Ottomans and the Persians, then under Saddam, and now the Yazidis (A group of Kurds that believe in a religion unique to Kurdistan) are being killed by ISIS. They have undergone a hat trick of genocides across three centuries.

The hearts of the Kurds have been through a lot of intoxication in the land of desolation. However, the night that oversaw the oppression of human rights is the most unforgettable night to all Kurds. That was the night of the attack on Halabja.  The Kurds were gassed in their sleep by chemical weapons. During this attack the victims were coughing due to the toxic chemicals then they were sent into their coffins. Children were orphaned through a black-hearted act.

The Kurds also suffered the Anfal, a campaign carried out by Saddam to exterminate the Kurdish race. Part of the Anfal included families being buried alive. Survivors recall that mothers were seen hugging their child in their graves as they had soil put over them. Hugs from their mothers in the grave could not save the soul of the child. They would scream for their mother out in the air but in the final minutes of their life their voice were of despair and each and every child was panic stricken and had their hearts terror-stricken.

They would throw into the grave child after child and the dust of death would be piled. Inside the grave, the children would look up and see the soldier and see how idiot-like he stands whilst trying to hide his bloody hands. Did the soldier hear the child’s prayers within the anguish of the child’s screams whilst they watched hope spill from the child’s eye? No. The soldier would look down and feel proud like as if he had won a mountain of gold but his crimes were worse by a thousandfold. He never knew that he one day would grow old and face death out of the cold. And when nature took control of his soul, then he would realise what it was worth to be buried within the earth.

During this campaign Saddam's army didn’t discriminate against a single Kurd. No man, no woman and no child was free. This campaign oversaw children being executed by firing squads. Their crime? For being a Kurd. Every year, Anfal is remembered by the Kurds not just for the crimes that were committed against the Kurds in the 1980’s till the 2000s but to also reflect on the crimes that are still being committed against humanity today.

Today the Anfal is remembered as a face for the faceless children, who desperately try to place smiles in a space between bullets. Children whose faces fade to the unknown. Children who have a childhood contained by checkpoints and barbed wire, friendship with rocks and the bullying of gunfire. It is a face for the orphans who are suspended in a scream of rage from hearts that are forced to beat inside of a cage.

Every year, I count myself lucky as I have the opportunity to volunteer at refugee camps in Iraq and every single year I hear extraordinary stories from children who have been through the most unimaginable situations and I know I am lucky as I could I have been just like them. The most incredible story that I have heard was the story of Walid. It was the very first time I was teaching a class at the Iraqi refugee camp. I arrived an hour early just to make sure that I would be on time. I waited in the classroom wondering what the children would be like and just going over what I would do in the lesson. It was 08:45 when the first child came, 15 minutes early, a skinny boy. I welcomed him into the class and asked for his name. “Walid” he replied. By 9:00, everyone had arrived. Then I started to introduce myself and explained what we would be doing. I had planned to do gardening. Ten minutes into the lesson, Walid said “I used to do this with my dad. We used to have a farm!” I replied “That's great! I’m sure we could learn a lot from him. Could he help us?” He stopped and looked up at me and said “He can’t. He got killed by ISIS.” Ten minutes into the lesson, I was plunged into the reality. Later, I learned from the staff at the camp, who knew more than me, that Walid’s father and one of his brothers were killed right in front of him. His other brother was shot 11 times but survived. On top of all that he now has cancer. Why was half of his family killed? Because they were Shabaks.

Every single day, I would go to the school, Walid was the first one there always asking me questions about maths, about learning English, about my life and he was always curious. He was always the last one out and always thanked me before he left. He was always 100% committed to his work.

When I asked him what he wanted to become when he grew older, he replied “It is not what I want to become, it is what I need to become. I have seen war first hand and the only way I can combat it is by education.” I have never heard anything more thoughtful and  sophisticated from a 10-year-old child. To this day, I think of this boy as a true role model.

However, it is with a heavy-heart that I say that even though so many mothers and fathers have been killed, we humans have not learnt a single lesson. 

No one else knows better than the astronomer, Carl Sagan, how stupid we are. His image of a dot places this into context for us.

He explained that this is the earth, a dot suspended in a beam of sunlight. The earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilt by all of those emperors, generals and soldiers so that in glory and triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot.

Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely indistinguishable inhabitants of some other corner. How frequent their misunderstandings. How eager they are to kill one another. How fervent their hatred.  

Our perception of human intelligence is flawed.