Choman
We had one more day in Choman. It was our day off and I was looking forward to learning more about Kurdish culture and just wander around the city by myself.
The Bakery: The day started by going to a local bakery. This ended up being quite an experience! So many people were queuing up in front of the bakery, apparently it was THE place to be. Their system was pretty unique. There was a metal bar on a table and you put a stack of money under the bar in the order in which you arrived. The bakers would handle the queue of money in order and when they got to your stack, they would simply give you as much bread as the money could pay for. It was all very interesting, especially since some people seemed to buy bread for the whole city with orders of 50 breads at once. Needless to say that it took forever. It also seemed that some people were allowed to skip the queue and inserted money somewhere in the middle without anyone saying anything, while others had to wait in line.
Schools: In the morning I also wandered around town. When I travel, I’m always very aware of graffitis, I find that what people draw on walls can tell you so much about the culture and the hopes and dreams of the country you are visiting. So when I came by a Girl’s school, I noticed a drawing in front of the school that captured my attention. It was a girl who was handcuffed, but the keys to her handcuffs were right beside her in the shape of a pen. This drawing meant so much to me, because what it really said is that education was the key to freedom, specifically for women. It is such a hopeful and powerful message to give to the girls of that town. And since it must have been drawn or at least approved by school officials, it such a strong statement to make for Kurdistan as a whole and how it sees its future.
I was frankly impressed by Kurdistan and how they treat their youngsters. Even in the shabbiest town, you’ll find a brand new playground for their kids. Those playgrounds are often so much more sophisticated than anything I have seen in Europe or the US. I mean, who wouldn’t want an airplane in their playground and at least 4-5 toboggans! In addition, the schools were always decorated with colorful drawings, they were the cleanest places in town, even more so than the hospital. In Choman, there was a soccer field next to the school. While the rest of town was full of rubble, the soccer field was visibly being cared for. The grass was perfectly even and freshly mown. It got really lively in the evening.
What all of this means, is that Kurdistan is investing into what’s most important, its next generation. It cares for the little ones and makes sure they have colorful ingenious playgrounds to fill their dreams with and develop their creativity. It cares for their teens and makes sure they have a safe and clean school environment, and extracurricular activities to take their minds off the harshness of the world they are living in. Perhaps Kurdistan isn’t in a great situation now, but the steps it is taking gives me some confidence that one day it will. This is in stark contrast with the US for example. Having lived in the USA for 8 years now, it is obvious that they are not investing into their future generation. Teachers are paid close to nothing, most schools are extremely low quality and unsafe unless you are willing to pay at least $15K in tuition per semester starting as early as primary school. The US has been able to get away with it by attracting talented foreigners like myself. The fact that there are barely any Americans among my coworkers is just a sign of that. However, I don’t think they will be able to continue like this forever. Not investing into their future generations, is perhaps the biggest mistake America could make. Given that, I really admire Kurdistan. Once the political situation stabilizes, I can see them catching up very quickly, because they certainly are taking all the right steps.
Border to Iran: After wandering around, a group of us went to the border town to Iran which was just 20min away. We even went to the “no-man area” between the two countries. It wasn’t all that remarkable, the border was mostly busy with truck drivers. I have been told that many Kurdish families also keep crossing the border back and forth for the weekend because the Iranian area across the border is also ethnically Kurd and thus, over the years, families have gotten separated by fictive borders. It was interesting to see that most of the border even far beyond the checkpoint, as far as I could see actually, was separated by a wall and barbed wire. The villages closer to the border were a lot more run down than Choman. In comparison, Choman seemed like the Champs Elysees…
Exploring town on my own: When I got back to the house I got taken aside by Jan who told me that I shouldn’t be going out into town by myself like I had done that morning. He added “especially as a woman” which completely infuriated me. It was clear that this wasn’t his concern, but the concern of our hosts, Omer’s family. I told him that it was stupid, because this place was safer than my own home town, and he agreed, but somehow he still felt compelled to respect our host’s wishes. I was angry for a little while, until I made the decision that I simply would not listen, because frankly this is my trip and as far as I know, there is no history or sign of danger for foreigners in Choman ever. To be honest, with so many road checkpoints, it would be impossible to abduct a foreigner.
I snuck out the door with Harry but dropped him off at the “Internet café” (if you can call it that way… the wifi was very flaky). In the meantime I went off on my own. Knowing that so many people in this small town were related to Omer, I wanted to be careful not to come across any of his cousins because I knew that they would insist on walking around with me, which would defeat the purpose of me exploring the area. I almost felt like a teenager sneaking out at night, as if I was doing something wrong when really I wasn’t. The most upsetting about it was that we wouldn’t have had that conversation if I was a guy.
Why is it so important to me to be on my own? Simply because I found that if you’re by yourself, so many more people will come to talk to you. As a single person you’re putting yourself out there, you’re vulnerable, non-threatening, and somehow that makes people come to you and share a piece of their life with you. If you’re two, it’s completely different. People see you as a group, and will watch you with curiosity, but most likely will leave you alone. It’s true that the same vulnerability that makes you easily approachable also makes you easily “hurt-able”, and I’m well aware of that. But I’m driven by genuine curiosity and I have the conviction that most people are kind. I have been threatened before, and thankfully I’ve gotten out unharmed, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take given how rich and meaningful my experiences have been when I put myself out there.
Baking Bread: It took only 10 minutes on my own until a few ladies called me into a garage where they were making bread. There were three women in this garage and each one of them had a very clear task. Their gestures were perfectly coordinated. Next to them was a huge stack of bread, I would guess 50 to 100 breads. I asked them if they were for sale, but the women insisted that this was just for the family. Within a few minutes it seemed all the little girls from the village gathered in the garage. There were about 10-15 girls each shyly approaching me. They had big smiles on their faces. They were not quite sure how to interact with me, but figured that smiling would be a good start. Everyone insisted on taking photos with me. It was a lot of fun! But I also realized how important my behavior and interactions with those girls are. They are unlikely to encounter another Western woman in a while, and so in some ways, I represent all Western women to them.
The women and girls prepared some food for me, which I must admit must have been among the most disgusting meals I ever had. It was those animal intestines that I had seen earlier on the market. The intestines were filled with rice and floating in a broth of oil. I took a few chewy bites, trying to just swallow and not think about what I was eating, which was hard to do given how graphical the intestine tubes were in my plate. So I finished half the dish, and politely told the ladies that it was very delicious but unfortunately I was full. They believed it.
Picnic with a family: The little girls insisted on inviting me to their home, so I accepted. The 12 year old girl in the group was the clear leader. She brought me to her home where I met her sister who was only a few years younger than me. She was done with school, but stayed at home. From what I could tell, she was mostly watching TV at home and taking selfies. I asked her multiple times about her situation, but she spoke only little English which made communication difficult. The younger sister though was incredibly eager to practice her English. She was all over me. As I sat in the living room, various neighborhood kids came in and out, everyone wanted to see the foreigner. It was clear that this family was poorer than Omer. They didn’t have any furniture, just lots of carpets, and seemed to all sleep on the floor. Yet all of the kids were really well-dressed. We watched TV for a while and the older sister confessed that she was really into extreme sports and asked me if I did any. So I showed her pictures from my phone. I told her about all my trips and though she probably only understood 10% of it, it was this short moment we shared. Eventually their uncle and aunt came by, and we were all just sitting around. I asked them what there was to see in Choman and they said mountains and a river. So I asked them if we could go there. Since we were going to drive somewhere, I quickly stopped by Omer’s place to let them know where and with whom I was going, and then went off for the picnic with the family. Omer told me he knew the family and didn’t make a fuss.
As we were driving, I realized that we went exactly the same way as yesterday when we were coming back from Mt Sarkan. I felt slightly guilty as they were going to show me places I had already seen. We stopped at the river and had a picnic. Afterwards the uncle asked me if I had ever shot a gun. I said no and the uncle asked if I wanted to try. The sisters were super excited about the idea of me shooting guns and made sure I understood the question. Sensing trouble, I again said no. That was the end of the conversation.
We drove further up the road and stopped at the next sightseeing spot, another river. The girls took some more pictures, the grown ups were casually chit-chatting. In the meantime the uncle unlocked the glove box of the car and took out a handgun. “Shit” I thought to myself… I knew the guy didn’t want to hurt me, but shooting guns is not really advisable behavior for tourists in Iraq. The uncle shot at a tree trunk some 50m away. He literally put the gun into my hands and encouraged me to try, the girls and the aunt were enthusiastic by his side. I refused multiple times, but what was I supposed to do? Eventually, I took the gun and followed his instructions on how to aim and manipulate it. It took me a few trials before I actually hit the tree. It was kind of fun, but it also made me realize how easy these things really are to manipulate (any child could do it!), how easy it would be to hurt someone… The whole experience was this out-of-this-world moment. The family (5 kids, 3 grown-ups — 2 men, 6 women) was really cheerful, enjoying the beautiful sunny day and a nice picnic. For them, nothing seemed unusual about taking out a gun and shooting at trees. In fact, several other cars passed by with more families returning or going to picnics and they all stopped, greeted us, but didn’t even raise an eyebrow about the gun. Perhaps it was the first and only visible sign I saw of how comfortable people are with war and weapons. In contrast, the whole situation made me really nervous. I knew no one was going to harm me, I was surrounded by so many cheerful kids and families, but I do come from a world without weapons. So as much as I disliked interrupting the jolly family picnic, I had kind of had enough, so I told them it was time for me to get back. At the end of the day, I’m not quite sure what to think of it, other than that it was a really crazy experience in a really crazy travel destination.
Evening Concert: My other team members weren’t home when I got back, but were out for another TV interview. I wasn’t sad to have missed it, by now I had gotten quite tired of the TV attention. And to say the least, I had had a very eventful day already… 🙂 The evening was quiet. We watched some more of Jan’s movies and just hung out. Later in the evening, one of Omer’s brothers came by to play violin and some other Kurd instrument I didn’t know. The family was very musical, several of the other brothers joined in. Together they played violin, the guitar, drums and were singing along. It was a small concert really and I was truly impressed by their skills. Another brother came by to say hello and he seamlessly joined in as well, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world to be able to play at least three instruments. Some of us foreigners (mostly Jan) gave it a try too, which entertained everyone as we undeniably sucked at it. Regardless, we had an evening full of music, laughter and a wonderful time overall.
For more pictures, go here.
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