April 14th marks the remembrance of the brutal Anfal campaign. Although the campaign began prior to this date, the Ba’athist regime launched the largest Anfal operations in the Germîyan areas in the South/Southeast of the province of Silêmanî on this date. In 1988 Saddam began a genocidal campaign code-named Anfal, a carefully planned eight-stage operation where 182 000 men, women and children were killed. This was part of a wider genocide that began decades earlier as hundreds of thousands of innocent Kurds perished as families were torn apart and over 4500 villages were destroyed. The genocide saw the use of chemical weapons countless times, most notably in Helebce, the disappearance of boys and men of any ages and the killings of Feylî Kurds in the 1970s and 1980s. The Kurdish nation continues to seek political, legal and moral recognition of Anfal as a genocide according to the 1948 United Nations Genocide Convention.
Hewraman, where Bashur and Rojhelat’s mountains meet. Shoulder to shoulder they become one. Where enforced borders become invisible, because they truly are. As I stood here taking in the beauty of my land, clouds of sorrow haunted me as I couldn’t become one with my ancestors. Enforced borders, how I despise thee.
A mountain mass, wild and defiant, has gathered blue heaven in its embrace; The mantle of its peak is brilliant white snow, dark with forest are its silent dales. Waters imprisoned in their tunnels, flow on, nor cease their windings round the hills; The roar and hiss of foam, the shrill song of the brook: Lullabies for grief in the solitude of night. The narrow footpath, feeling its way from tunnel to tunnel, throws the wayfarer into anxiety without end; On the track rocky stairways, on the side great boulders, that heaven has not yet sent rolling down. Now up hill, now down hill, the bitter and sweet of the wayfarer’s world.
Lunch break. Take out. Yummie. (at Norwegian People’s Aid)
Dinner. Kurdistan style.
When Hero met Hero - part deux.
Pouring rain in Suly. 4 am.
Grey love/travelling attire: Mouvement de la mode.
Chilly in Parki Azadi/the Freedom Park. Slemani.
"I am from the land of magic, my father is the mountain, and my mother the mist."
Blue night sky.
Knitted in snow.