"But really Zim, out of all the countries in the world, why did you choose THAT one?", she said.
"Say what, where, how... hold up, where are you exactly?", he gasped.
"They are dropping bombs in there. Really Zim, you don't have to be a soldier. Just come back. Why on earth would you even.. and your daughter? How is she dealing with the chaos?, she shouted.
"It is the money, isn't it? Don't be a sell out. Come back home.", she quietly wondered.
These are all the extract from chaotic conversation that are often in English, but somewhere we miss each other because of the words "Iraq" or "Kurdistan" get thrown in the air. The same air that was so curious would be filled with ignorant anxiety, amazement, and pure fear. I even sometimes question myself whether me ending up in Kurdistan was a mental choice or just part of my very unpredictable part of life's journey.
In the same breath, I don't think anyone would believe me that all of this, this scary but real thing called Kurdistan started in 2007 with a novel. A novel that was so powerful that ripped the threats of my hearts and fed my soul to the point that I would end up here;here in Kurdistan. I don't remember speaking to the universe about it, but I remember the words of the writer unlocking tremendous curiosity about Halabja, the death of women, men, and children, the sun finally rising over the Kurdish mountains. However, once I finished that book, I gave it back to whomever I borrowed it from, and never looked back. I thought about Kurdistan a few times, however, I didn't hover over it. Let me say, I didn't know that something in me could've added that part to my life.
I continued living my life in Saudi, very rigid, but peaceful. Then my something called marriage occurred, and that is where all of the pieces of the puzzle started to fit. I remember, it was about a few days before I got married, my husband who was at that time completing his PhD shared his great news. He got a job offer in Iraq. My first thought was "Okay, Iraq! What? Couldn't you get a job in Turkey...where you are from?" Somehow his words beguiled me of how wonderful Iraq would be that I agreed. Yes, if you know me well, it takes me a long time to agree to something I find foolish. But this was different. I was getting married, and my husband got a job in Iraq, and as a loyal wife, I had to suck it up, throw Saudi away and move to Iraq. My last plane trip from Saudi felt surreal but at the same time complete. I remember handing in my residency card,and in the 3 years I had been in Saudi, it was the first time the passport control police ever spoke to me.
"You are leaving Saudi?", he asked.
"Yes". I softly said under my niqab.
"Thank you for teaching our students, and please come back again. We need you.", he uttered so peacefully.
In my mind all I could think of was that I am finally saying goodbye. Tears stained my niqab as I was really sad to leave.Leaving my Saudi girls behind was too much to bear. The thing is, no one understands that once you leave Saudi, you pretty much leave its people behind. It isn't easy to say, "We will meet up again." It doesn't happen that way in that quiet country.
On the plane, my heart didn't complain and my mind was at ease. Iraq will be part of my daily vocabulary now. All I was upset about was that I hadn't registered on the website for South Africans abroad so that in case something happened, my country could drag my ass back to Africa. The only comfort for me during my flight from Saudi to Iraq was that I knew my husband would be there, waiting for me.
Once I arrived at the tiny Suli airport, I didn't recognize the faces. I wasn't sure what I was staring at. They looked slightly Turkish...., Where are the niqabs? Where are the hijabi? Why aren't the men wearing "thobes". Where the fuck am I ?
I only realized where I was when the passport control guy said "Welcome to Kurdistan." I wanted to argue that the visa said something else, but I decided to take his word for it. While holding my abaya and finally taking off my niqab, I thought to myself "Seriously Kurdistan. Oh well I guess Kurdistan, we meet each other after all even though I never imagined to. Who are you? How did this happen? My mind was having an awkward conversation with itself, and at the same time, my heart was just relieved that I would see a familiar face again.
On the long ride to my new unknown home, it was dark, so I couldn't figure out this city's face. I didn't have a clear picture of what I really got myself into or I wasn't even sure that I wanted to know. All I know is that I couldn't believe that I was actually in Kurdistan. Mind you at this time, I didn't remember the novel I had read. Only a few days later, the university my husband was teaching at was planning a trip to Halabja to visit the museum and the monument. Still at this point, I didn't think that this was already spoken into my life.
While I was still unpacking some of my clothes and belongings from Saudi, I found my diary. I read some parts of it and saw the entry of the book "Love in a Torn Land". My heart sank as I read the entire entry. There was one sentence in there that finally made sense of this madness. "Lord, I know you are there. Take me to this place one day so that I can meet this nation, so that I can too feel their pain of loss and war.Indeed we have a lot in common" Instead of me staring at the pages, they were staring back at me. Almost saying, "What did you expect to happen if you are going to ask the universe about such things?"
At that very moment, I understood two things that were true. 1. What you speak to the universe eventually does come back to you. It only has its own way and time of getting back. 2.The universe listens. It listens to the quiet ones. The ones that express themselves without words.
These four years have been bitter sweet in every way. From people staring at me as if I am some voodoo doll, not to mention people being crazy about Nelson Mandela, but at the same time being unaware that he was black. Yes, black people exist...just like Barak Obama....and all the others that you listen to on your hip hop radio. I don't think I will ever get used to the staring. Wait, I think it is safe to say that NO ONE ever gets use to being stared at. It is something I understand but not use to.
There is so much I want to purge, but I am afraid that I will get scared of my own words. From the summer heat sinking into my skin, dry faces, the smell of dust while it settles on every bit of hope to the crisp winter morning air, the water that has no mercy and gorgeous people, it is hard to write all I see in this land. From times that I be like " I am not putting my foot on the plane" to the times I be like "shit, I miss home. Yes, Kurdistan is my home and I MISS IT"
It has been a blessing never a curse being here. I take the sour with the sweet in every way. I know I am meant to be here. The journey has been crazy, but so beautiful because I would've never dreamed or thought of making it this far. I love it.
The idea of Kurdistan being a country is becoming more and more of a reality or a dreaming coming true as the chaos rises and falls. I am blessed being part of it, and I have managed to take the good for what it is.
One part of me is pretty much angry at myself for not have invested more time in learning the language and really getting into the depth of the culture. I'm furious with myself for not keeping track of my own emotions and just being a ghost here; preoccupied with my own bullshit that I missed many beautiful events that have surrounded me.
However, I am here now. That is all that mattes...
Rumi
ps: If you ask me to sum up Kurdistan. I don't think anyone can. You got to be here to understand it, see it, and live it.
In the same breath, I don't think anyone would believe me that all of this, this scary but real thing called Kurdistan started in 2007 with a novel. A novel that was so powerful that ripped the threats of my hearts and fed my soul to the point that I would end up here;here in Kurdistan. I don't remember speaking to the universe about it, but I remember the words of the writer unlocking tremendous curiosity about Halabja, the death of women, men, and children, the sun finally rising over the Kurdish mountains. However, once I finished that book, I gave it back to whomever I borrowed it from, and never looked back. I thought about Kurdistan a few times, however, I didn't hover over it. Let me say, I didn't know that something in me could've added that part to my life.
I continued living my life in Saudi, very rigid, but peaceful. Then my something called marriage occurred, and that is where all of the pieces of the puzzle started to fit. I remember, it was about a few days before I got married, my husband who was at that time completing his PhD shared his great news. He got a job offer in Iraq. My first thought was "Okay, Iraq! What? Couldn't you get a job in Turkey...where you are from?" Somehow his words beguiled me of how wonderful Iraq would be that I agreed. Yes, if you know me well, it takes me a long time to agree to something I find foolish. But this was different. I was getting married, and my husband got a job in Iraq, and as a loyal wife, I had to suck it up, throw Saudi away and move to Iraq. My last plane trip from Saudi felt surreal but at the same time complete. I remember handing in my residency card,and in the 3 years I had been in Saudi, it was the first time the passport control police ever spoke to me.
"You are leaving Saudi?", he asked.
"Yes". I softly said under my niqab.
"Thank you for teaching our students, and please come back again. We need you.", he uttered so peacefully.
In my mind all I could think of was that I am finally saying goodbye. Tears stained my niqab as I was really sad to leave.Leaving my Saudi girls behind was too much to bear. The thing is, no one understands that once you leave Saudi, you pretty much leave its people behind. It isn't easy to say, "We will meet up again." It doesn't happen that way in that quiet country.
On the plane, my heart didn't complain and my mind was at ease. Iraq will be part of my daily vocabulary now. All I was upset about was that I hadn't registered on the website for South Africans abroad so that in case something happened, my country could drag my ass back to Africa. The only comfort for me during my flight from Saudi to Iraq was that I knew my husband would be there, waiting for me.
Once I arrived at the tiny Suli airport, I didn't recognize the faces. I wasn't sure what I was staring at. They looked slightly Turkish...., Where are the niqabs? Where are the hijabi? Why aren't the men wearing "thobes". Where the fuck am I ?
I only realized where I was when the passport control guy said "Welcome to Kurdistan." I wanted to argue that the visa said something else, but I decided to take his word for it. While holding my abaya and finally taking off my niqab, I thought to myself "Seriously Kurdistan. Oh well I guess Kurdistan, we meet each other after all even though I never imagined to. Who are you? How did this happen? My mind was having an awkward conversation with itself, and at the same time, my heart was just relieved that I would see a familiar face again.
On the long ride to my new unknown home, it was dark, so I couldn't figure out this city's face. I didn't have a clear picture of what I really got myself into or I wasn't even sure that I wanted to know. All I know is that I couldn't believe that I was actually in Kurdistan. Mind you at this time, I didn't remember the novel I had read. Only a few days later, the university my husband was teaching at was planning a trip to Halabja to visit the museum and the monument. Still at this point, I didn't think that this was already spoken into my life.
While I was still unpacking some of my clothes and belongings from Saudi, I found my diary. I read some parts of it and saw the entry of the book "Love in a Torn Land". My heart sank as I read the entire entry. There was one sentence in there that finally made sense of this madness. "Lord, I know you are there. Take me to this place one day so that I can meet this nation, so that I can too feel their pain of loss and war.Indeed we have a lot in common" Instead of me staring at the pages, they were staring back at me. Almost saying, "What did you expect to happen if you are going to ask the universe about such things?"
At that very moment, I understood two things that were true. 1. What you speak to the universe eventually does come back to you. It only has its own way and time of getting back. 2.The universe listens. It listens to the quiet ones. The ones that express themselves without words.
These four years have been bitter sweet in every way. From people staring at me as if I am some voodoo doll, not to mention people being crazy about Nelson Mandela, but at the same time being unaware that he was black. Yes, black people exist...just like Barak Obama....and all the others that you listen to on your hip hop radio. I don't think I will ever get used to the staring. Wait, I think it is safe to say that NO ONE ever gets use to being stared at. It is something I understand but not use to.
There is so much I want to purge, but I am afraid that I will get scared of my own words. From the summer heat sinking into my skin, dry faces, the smell of dust while it settles on every bit of hope to the crisp winter morning air, the water that has no mercy and gorgeous people, it is hard to write all I see in this land. From times that I be like " I am not putting my foot on the plane" to the times I be like "shit, I miss home. Yes, Kurdistan is my home and I MISS IT"
It has been a blessing never a curse being here. I take the sour with the sweet in every way. I know I am meant to be here. The journey has been crazy, but so beautiful because I would've never dreamed or thought of making it this far. I love it.
The idea of Kurdistan being a country is becoming more and more of a reality or a dreaming coming true as the chaos rises and falls. I am blessed being part of it, and I have managed to take the good for what it is.
One part of me is pretty much angry at myself for not have invested more time in learning the language and really getting into the depth of the culture. I'm furious with myself for not keeping track of my own emotions and just being a ghost here; preoccupied with my own bullshit that I missed many beautiful events that have surrounded me.
However, I am here now. That is all that mattes...
Rumi
ps: If you ask me to sum up Kurdistan. I don't think anyone can. You got to be here to understand it, see it, and live it.
No comments:
Post a Comment