My Kurdish Experience

In 1980s Turkish military published a report stating that Kurds/Kurdish as a word does not exist. Its a sound that one hears while walking on the snow.

Kurd, Kurd, Kurd and Kurd.

In 2000s Turkish government in relation to the South Anatolian Dams Project came out with a report stating that they would like the mountain Turks to integrate with the Modern Turks. There was no mention of the word Kurd/Kurdish.

This is the story of Kurdish experienced by an Indian.

When a generation of culture is lost, someone has to fight for it. When there are millions of people practising this language in silenced tones, someone protests. There are stories beyond what you have heard. There are hardships beyond our understanding.

There is more to turkey than Turkish identity.

This was my experience of the Kurdish issue. I had heard about it from my Turkish friends. I had read about them in my internship. But this was my first time, I was about to experience them. Imagine finding my group of communists, leftists and Marxists mind in the middle of Istanbul. Imagine people with a Kurdish history. With a Kurdish soul, with a Kurdish sense of life. I was ignorant to the any of this.

What was one supposed to do in such situation. Sit and observe. Silence teaches you better than any books in the world.

Kurds : People of the mountains, people who are spread across three different countries : Iraq, Syria, and turkey. They live in different parts of Turkey, but mostly are situated in the South east regions of Turkey. Here, even in 2012 it is difficult to come across the language of Kurdish issue in local places. It is not taught in schools, and it has no way of getting into universities. PKK ( an organisation) which is referred to as terrorist organisation by the Turkish government, is one of the groups fighting for the Kurdish cause. Their leader has been behind bars for a decade now.

Kurds are people who have been fighting for their country called Kurdistan. People who have been denied the right to practise their own past. How horrifying can one this get. How hard human life has to to fight to get to preserve their own past. Kurdish history is a standing commentary on this.

A language which is passed on by mothers and fathers, passed on a knowledge based on memory. There is no place to practise this rich language , there is no place to see this language. It is spoken in houses, in families , in hearts and in memories. They talk in hush sounds, their language is restricted within four walls. They have their discussions in the houses.

The nation don’t speak their language, but the wind takes it beyond boundaries. It stays with you.

A Kurdish guy and a Turkish woman falling in love and completing each other as souls. This is what I felt seeing amca(uncle) and tenzei (aunt); the family with whom I was staying in Istanbul. It was just beautiful. Such happy souls who injected me with their laughter. Please keep in mind, we were totally unaware of each other. They did not know my language and I had no introduction to their language. But I felt at home. This is exactly how Home felt.

Living with an amja ( who was in love with languages ) and tenzei ( whose affairs with history went beyond the boundaries of turkey, Egypt and India) was one of the best experiences of my life. Such a lovely couple, their curiosity to learn about my culture and their patience to teach me their culture was simply heart-warming. Their hospitality and their generosity is something ill always remember about Istanbul. Istanbul would have been very different without them.

For an Indian, it was amusing to learn that so many Hindi/Urdu words had common roots with Kurdish words. It was wonderful to realise that words like insaan, rah, kheeya, murat, kabool, kanoon and many more were common in both the languages. Some of my conversations with amja were just based on this. He used to say Kurdish words and in return I used to get excited and blurt out Hindi words. Both were learning and in their own space, both were getting exposed to a time beyond their knowledge.

Their music and their instruments have a touch of the mountains, touch of the soul of the free spirits, touch of wind that flows, their voices are beyond the gender dimensions. One has to listen, listen carefully; it has a lot to offer and teach.

Istanbul was an enlightening experience. In a lot of ways it humbled me and it taught me things my own senses were inhibited to learn. When one is stared with a new understanding of a system one is always left staring at sky. This is what Kurdish Identity did to me. 4 days with a Kurdish family gave me a better pair of glasses to see life.

The best way of learning is by listening, observing. World has too much to offer. Just sit and observe. Staying with a family is the best way to do this. Dive in to their lives, leave your senses behind. Let them lead you, and like me,you might just find jannat!