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!
