A Thousand Sighs, A Thousand Revolts Part 1

A Thousand Sighs, A Thousand Revolts.

Christiane Bird.

Acknowledgments.

THIS BOOK COULD NOT HAVE BEEN WRITTEN WITHOUT THE HELP of many Kurds and scholars. Many magnanimously opened their homes and lives to me; others gave generously of their time and expertise.

For the Iraq section, I am especially indebted to Nesreen Mustafa Siddeek Berwari, who filled me in on many aspects of life in Kurdistan, hosted me in Erbil, and provided me with numerous introductions, and to Diane E. King, who gave me much invaluable advice and insight, and read the Iraq chapters in ma.n.u.script. A special thanks, too, to my kind hosts in Dohuk, Majed Sayyed Saleh and family, who helped me in innumerable ways, and to Carole A. O'Leary, who first introduced me to Iraqi Kurdish affairs and also read the Iraq chapters in ma.n.u.script. Shayee Khanaka was an astute and helpful reader as well.

I am indebted to many other Iraqi Kurdish families who hosted me during my stay. My thanks to the Shamdeen family in Zakho, Muhsen Saleh Abdul Aziz and family in Amadiya, Kamerin Khairy Beg and family in Baadri, Ya.s.sim Muhammad Wossou and family in Erbil, the Rozhbayani family in Erbil, the students at the University of Salahuddin in Erbil, Guergis Yalda and family in Diana, and the family of Hamin Kak Amin Bilbas in Raniya. In Syria, the Shweish family and others who prefer to go unnamed warmly welcomed me into their homes and provided me with an excellent introduction to their country.

I also owe a great deal to the many Iraqi Kurds who went far out of their way to serve as my guides and translators, usually on an informal and voluntary basis. In Dohuk, Dr. Shawkat Bamarni, Dilovan Muhammad Amin, Dr. Saadi Namaste Bamerni, Bayan Ahmed, Yousif Chamsayidi, Zerrin Ibrahim, Dr. Khairy, Mr. Fadhil, and Dr. Jasim Elias Murad were especially helpful, with Dilovan serving as my ad hoc research a.s.sistant after I returned home. In Zahko, n.a.z.ira Shamdeen gave me especially perceptive insight into her world and culture. In Erbil, Fawzi Hariri, Rezan Yousif, Hozak Zahir, Himdad Abdul-Qahhar, Othman Rashad Mufti, and Yonadam Kanna helped me explore the city, while in Barzan, Dr. Abdullah Loqman and Saleh Mahmoud Barzani did the same. In Suleimaniyah, Nizar Ghafur Agha Said and Dildar Majeed Kittani were translators par excellence, while Safwat Rashid Sidqi, Dr. Fouad Baban, Rewaz Faiq, and Yousif Ha.s.san Hussein showed me parts of Kurdistan that I would not have seen without them. In Halabja and Suleimaniyah, Dr. Adil Karem Fatah took much time out of a busy schedule to help me conduct numerous interviews. Also most helpful were my translators Khalid Muhammad Ha.s.san Sharafani in Sumel, Hickmat Mustafa Mahmoud in Amadiya, Imad Salman in Chamsaida, Janet Iskail in Diana, and Ayub Nuri in Suleimaniyah.

Before leaving for Iraq and Syria, I was in contact with many experts who both encouraged me to make the trip and helped prepare me for my journey: Michael Rubin, Omar Sheikhmous, KDP and PUK representatives in the United States and Damascus, Mike Amitay, Deirdre Russo, Joost Hilterman, Dr. Ali Sindi, Kathy Fuad, and David Hirst. After I returned home, the Washington Kurdish Inst.i.tute, and Stafford Clarry and Ann Mirani in Kurdistan did a superb job of sending me news stories about the Iraq war, its aftermath, and other developments in the region.

For the Iran section, I am especially grateful to Soleyman Soltanian in Tehran for his advice, hospitality, and many introductions, and to his son Babak for first introducing me to his father. My thanks as well to the Bahri, Sedighi, and Najafi families, who hosted me in Mahabad, Sanandaj, and Kermanshah respectively; to Hiwa Soofyeh, who gave me much poetic insight into Kurdish culture; and to my old friends Bahman and Chris Faratian and Babak Azimi, who welcomed me back into their country with open arms. Hasham Salami introduced me to Iranian Kurdish folklore, his son Siamand Salami filled me in on the music of the Ahl-e Haqq, Fatah Amiri and family welcomed me in Bukan, Omid Varzandeh was an excellent translator in Tehran, and Mehrdad E. Izady offered me pretrip advice. Shirin Rewaz was my gracious host in Urumieh, Nasreen Jaferi and Parang Shafai served as my able guides and hosts in Mahabad, and the Greenway conference organizers were my enthusiastic escorts in Sanandaj.

For the Turkey section, I am especially indebted to Kani Xulam, who provided me with many contact names and answered many of my questions, and to the Sevinc family in Istanbul, who went far out of their way to help me in my research. In addition, I would like to thank Henri J. Barkey for reading the Turkey chapters in ma.n.u.script; A. Celil Kaya, Sedef Esirgenc, and Hivda Ustebay for serving as my translators; Suzan Samanci for her delightful company and hospitality; and Kevin McKiernan, Sennacherib Daniel, Jordan Bell, and Gregory Scarborough for their pretrip advice. I am also deeply grateful to Kurdologists Martin van Bruinessen and David McDowall, whose exhaustive works inform much in the following pages.

I would like to thank my editors: Wendy Hubbert, without whose enthusiasm this book might never have been written; Nancy Miller, for her unfailing insight and friendship; and Dana Isaacson, for his skillful tightening and line editing. A special thanks also to my agent Neeti Madan for her belief in this project, to my friends Barbara Feinberg and Kim La.r.s.en for reading early drafts of several chapters, and to Jerry Brown and my family for their steadfast support throughout the research, writing, and publishing process.

The mountains, always the mountains, held the old man's gaze.

There is a fascination about them that it is not necessary

to be a Kurd or a Persian to be able to acquire.

TO MESOPOTAMIA AND KURDISTAN IN DISGUISE,.

Ely Bannister Soane.

Author's Note.

BECAUSE OF POLITICAL CONSIDERATIONS AND TO PROTECT some individuals' privacy, I have changed some names and identifying details in this book. Because there is no standard transliteration from Kurdish, Persian, or Arabic into English, I have generally chosen to spell words as simply as possible and according to how they are p.r.o.nounced. I have spelled people's names according to their personal preferences.

Preface.

THROUGHOUT 2003 THE WAR IN IRAQ AND ITS AFTERMATH dominated the media. Early in the year, thousands of pundits, journalists, and talking heads-along with everyone else-speculated on when the war would begin, whether weapons of ma.s.s destruction would be found, and what the overthrow of Saddam Hussein would mean for Iraq and the rest of the Middle East. That spring, from the first attack on Baghdad on March 20 through President George W. Bush's declaration of the end of major combat on May 1, reporters delivered visceral, blow-by-blow accounts of the conflict, bringing a virtual war into nearly every living room. And after the "shock and awe" was over, and the statues of Saddam Hussein came tumbling down, the media roar continued; it became apparent that the Iraq story had legs that would carry it well into the future.

Yet for me, the barrage of media coverage often obscured more than it revealed. I had spent three months in northern Iraq in the spring of 2002-a year before the war-and two months in the bordering Iranian and Turkish regions the following fall, exploring Kurdistan, or the land of the Kurds-a country that exists on few maps, but in many hearts. I got the most tangible news from the region not from the media but in e-mails from my Kurdish friends in Iraq, Iran, and Turkey. Their messages were often short and simple, and written in broken English, with much of the drama between the lines.

Dear Christiane, So happy to hear from you. Here in Kurdistan the situation is calm and no tension yet. All the people are happy to hear the words of war and they all hope it will be the end of the 13 years sad and tragic story. Iraq without Saddam will be better. Sincerely, Amin h.e.l.lo Christiane, Happy New Year to you. I see you are very curious about war but here in Iran it is an ordinary matter and the poverty is the most important thing. Enshahallah the war will not occur. Best wishes, Hiwa Dear friend: Every day we are getting closer to war. And people who are living in this area are getting more anxious. I hope it won't happen. But the Turkey government is insisting on war. And this situation makes us worry. I hope you are trying to do something to prevent this dirty war. Best wishes, Celil Dear Christiane-The people here are preparing themselves to go to the mountains in case of war. The situation is bad, and people are frightened. The real tension began a week ago with hearing news that the Turkish armies might partic.i.p.ate in the campaign against Iraq. Most of the Kurds think they will have to fight Saddam and the Turks at the same time.

About me, I'm also preparing with my family to escape; you don't need to be so smart to know that there will be a b.l.o.o.d.y conflict. And it will be like a h.e.l.l. I'm going to prepare a bag with every thing we will need after escaping. Medical needs, food, heavy clothes. And I have a further plan. In middle of turmoil I will cross the border out of Iraq. I'm not going to wait till the war to end, there will be no end for it.

Till your reply to this message, take care of your self. The time is exactly 11.15 PM, while I'm writing to you, I already opened the window, snow, snow! Best, Amin Dear Ms. Christiane, So far I'm fine and still in one piece. Not only me but almost all the people are ready to leave to the mountains if needed. We are afraid from Satin Saddam if he decided to revenge against us for being close friend to the US.

Yes, I still feel danger from Baghdad as my head is still wanted. I still have my bodyguards a.s.signed by the Governor and I go around with them.

I'm VERY WORRIED about the Turkish troops in northern Iraq. For two days, I have been visiting the Refugee Camps and was trying to calm them down. They are TERRIFIED and I can understand their fear. I cannot wait until I see your brothers and sisters when they arrive. MY DREAM IS BECOMING TRUE!

We have a lot of snow here and it is VERY cold. There is a big shortage on Fuel. Lots of love. Always, ZERRIN Dear Christiane: As you know the war has began and now Iraq is conflicting with several problems. You know, many years we Kurds have been in war, it's really an ordinary matter to us. More people in Iran follow the news for their curiosity. Nearly all the people wish Iraq to resist because they think western forces are cruel. Perhaps refugees will come to Iran in next days, this has occurred when Saddam attacked Halabja by chemical weapons.

Today is 3rd day of 1382, so that we are in New Year vacations, weather is very good, everywhere is calm, I want to wander every day I can! (The great poet hiwa!) Tell me about yourself and write more. Your friend, Hiwa Dear beloved Christiane, Thank you for your congratulations to see the statue of Saddam coming down! But first of all, let me congratulate YOU and all AMERICANS for the great Job and VICTORY. We LOVE your country and are proud of your soldiers because they FREE us from Satin Saddam.

Secondly, for the first time today, I went to the office without my body guards. I can not believe it. Is not that wonderful? I'm planing to make a BIG PARTY in the UN CLUB and you are MOST WELCOME to attend it. I'm SO HAPPY you can not imagine. Remain in touch and lots of love. Sincerely, your sister in FREE IRQ, Zerrin Dear Christiane, You can not imagine the joy of the Kurdish people, I have never seen them so happy. Whatever the future will be it will not be worse than what we had, so everyone is optimistic. The best business today in Sulaimany is the shop who makes American, British, and Kurdish flags (16 hours a day). Photos of President Bush on cars, shops, and in homes. Dancing and music until late evening. People are looking forward to travel to Baghdad without restriction, fear and discrimination. Regards, Nizar Dear Christiane, No, there is not any extra pressure on kurds in Iran because of the war. We are very happy about the overthrowing of Saddam's Regime. Our governmental officials are also very happy because Saddam and his friends were very dangerous enemy of Iran's people. But there is a very important question: What is the next target for USA? Which regime will join Saddam's system? Good Luck, Soleyman Dear Christiane, The art inst.i.tute is open again, and we have a very hard task to get things back to normal, especially the student's mood. In Dohuk things are fine, and you can meet many American's soldiers in the streets. The American's are welcome here, people love them and showing great admire. No soldier can walk alone, people simply follow and stopping him to shake hands, saying (hi), or to print a kiss on his cheeks.

During the war, I tried to cross the border, but no luck. After a few days I was back again in Dohuk. Hugs, Amin Dear Miss Christiane, I am so sorry because I haven't sent you a message for a long time. As you know, I am so busy at work and at home also. Anyway Miss Christiane if you are asking about Iraq in general, I don't think that the situation is stable. We don't have a president and a government so how we will have stability, but anyway I am very happy because the regime was down so soon. Day by day the Iraqi people are discovering new ma.s.s graves. I can not imagine how savages Saadam and his followers were. Concerning Kurdistan the situation is different but also people here are anxious and worried. People didn't get their wages and everything is expensive but it is better than in the other parts of Iraq. I hope this will soon be over. With best wishes. Bayan During much of 2003, I thought that I would return to Iraqi Kurdistan postwar to gather material for this book's final chapter. For months, my plans were to revisit the former "northern no-fly zone" to see firsthand what changes had occurred since the toppling of the Baath regime. But as the future of Iraq seemed to grow less rather than more settled, I realized that even safety issues, travel expenses, and publishing deadline pressures aside, I didn't want to go back. Like the barrage of media reports surrounding the war, I feared that for me, going back would obscure more than it revealed. Whatever insights I had gained into one of the world's oldest yet least-known cultures during my 2002 travels would not be honed by a hasty trip to view what was still only a thin layer of political change. Wars in Kurdistan came and went; life went on.

This is not a book about Kurdish politics, or about how the Iraq war will affect the Kurds, or even, strictly speaking, a book about Kurdish history or culture, although all those elements can be found herein. This is a book about the Kurdish people, an examination of an often-overlooked society that has been rocked and at times devastated by some of the most catastrophic events and tragic political policies of the last eighty years. This is also a book about journeys-some my own, but most, the Kurds'.

-New York City, November 2003.

CHAPTER ONE.

Through the Back Door.

THE MALTAI FAMILY LIVED IN A BIG AIRY HOUSE ON THE outskirts of Dohuk in northern Iraq. Out front stretched their even bigger garden, its borders etched with fluttering purple blossoms mixed with penny-sized red wildflowers that the patriarch, Aziz Maltai, had transplanted from the mountains. Here and there bloomed flowers grown from seeds sent by friends in Europe. In the middle splashed a hand-carved fountain, water spilling from cup to cup to cup into a violet pool below.

"Flowers are like young sheep," Aziz Maltai said, examining a rosebud on our way into the house. "The more time you spend with them, the more they grow."

At the door, a line of women waited-dressed in floor-length gowns of lilac, black, deep green, and bright red, their long lacy sleeves tied behind their backs while still allowing for freedom of movement. Most of the older women's heads were covered with gauzy black or white scarves, most of the younger women's heads were bare. "B'kher-hati, b'kher-hati, " they all cried-welcome, welcome-and kissed me on both cheeks before ushering me into a large room furnished only with Oriental carpets, a kerosene heater, and shiny benchlike couches lining two walls.

Women sat on one side, men on the other, as Aziz was joined by some of his nine sons and other male relatives. In contrast to the patriarch, who was wearing a Western suit and red tie, many of the men were dressed in the Kurdish shal u shapik, or trousers and jacket. Resembling billowing aviators ' jumpsuits, traditionally made of goat's hair, the shal u shapik come in a variety of muted hues-browns, tans, blacks, and whites-and are cinched around the waist with elaborately woven c.u.mmerbunds, which can be up to twenty feet long when unwound. The style of the shal u shapik varies depending upon region or occasion, but today, all were wearing their finest: it was Newroz, or New Year's.

Tea was served in delicate, tulip-shaped gla.s.ses, along with cookies stuffed with walnut paste, made specially for the holiday. Then we were off-Aziz and his wife, most of his sons and their families, cousins visiting from Baghdad, and me. Moving out into the garden, amid excited children's cries, we climbed into a cavalcade of gleaming BMWs and sport-utility vehicles. Proudly mounted on the lead car was the striped green, red, and white flag of Kurdistan, a yellow sunburst in its middle.

Aziz seated me in a BMW next to his son Siyabend, a small, wiry, dapper man wearing fashionable minimalist gla.s.ses and a starched military-style shal u shapik made of khaki. He and I had both spent time in Iran, and Aziz hoped we would be able to communicate in Persian.

Kurdish music spinning from the tape deck, we headed north toward the Turkish border and then east toward Iran. The snowcapped mountains of Turkey's Kurdistan appeared, along with an expansive plain shining like an enormous silver tray as it soaked in the rays of the sun.

"There's Silopi, and that's Mount Cudi." Siyabend pointed out several sites across the Turkish border. Later, I learned that Silopi had suffered especially badly during the Kurdish-Turkish civil war that ended in 1999, and that Mount Cudi, along with the better-known Mount Ararat, is believed by many Kurds to have been the resting place of Noah's Ark.

Turning off the paved road, we headed up a gra.s.sy mountainside. Although only midmorning, the slope was already half filled with parked cars and st.u.r.dy white tents shaped like miniature big tops. Children played ball, men built bonfires, and women socialized or cooked, the lush fabrics of their gowns blinking in the sun.

After parking, the men quickly set up a tent, into which the older women immediately retired, and started a fire. Many of the rest of us set off to roam the mountain and to look for wildflowers-white nergiz (narcissus), scarlet or purple sheqayiq (ranunculus), daisylike hajile.

When we returned, much of the family was already seated on padded cushions around a now-roaring fire. One of the younger wives, a handsome chestnut brunette, was boiling water in a battered teapot. Another woman was handing around small cakes, and a third, a bag filled with nuts. Two young men were playing a game, moving pebbles between six small holes dug into the earth.

I gazed out over the plain before us. A river cut a clear meandering path across a land that changed color as it went-from browns to reds to greens and back again. The mountain ranges beyond the plain started small, but then rose and rose, each range thrusting higher into the cobalt sky until cresting into Turkey's crystalline blue-white peaks.

Preparing tea at a Newroz picnic.

On the plain immediately below stood a dozen or so red and orange buses hired by picnickers too poor to own vehicles of their own. And on the mountain slopes to our left and right, tents had popped up almost as far as the eye could see.

Aziz talked about his garden. "I have always loved nature, ever since I was a small boy," he said. "And when I was a peshmerga, fighting in the mountains, I would shout 'Oh!' whenever I stepped on a flower. My friends would think I had stepped on a mine." He slapped his knee, laughing.

Lunch was served, on a big plastic tablecloth spread out near the fire: biryani rice made with raisins, nuts, and chicken; tershick, or wheat patties, filled with vegetables and lamb; grilled kebabs, served with tomatoes and onions; thin crisp bread, baked in an outdoor oven that morning; du, the Middle Eastern drink made of yogurt and water; and platefuls of mysterious, pungent greens gathered fresh from the mountains.

On the slope below, a trio of musicians was traveling from tent to tent, the sound of their cylindrical drum, the dohul, and conical flute, the zirnah, penetrating deep into the mountains. Wherever the musicians stopped, people dropped what they were doing to form a long line and begin a Kurdish dance. Joining hands, swinging arms, moving shoulders in deliberate, hypnotic rhythm; two steps to the right, one to the left, back, forward, kick. The first person in the line often twirled a handkerchief high in the air as people merged in and out, men and women and children dancing together.

When the musicians reached our tent, Siyabend and his wife pulled me to my feet and showed me how to link my little fingers with theirs as we joined the line. The dance had simple footwork that even a child could follow, but just as I was relaxing, a more intricate dance began. Everyone started singing, with one side of the line answering the other in a love song about a girl with dark hair. In and out the line moved. I stumbled, then dropped out.

A short while later, the musicians started a bold wild tune, chasing all but five men from the dance floor. Most dressed in shal u shapik, they were stomping, jumping, bending, and twisting in a dance that seemed as old and resilient and self-contained as the mountains. Watching them, the world around me vanished-the men seemed alone on a barren slope, Kalashnikovs piled beside them, winds and snows howling around them, taking a break from the fierce guerrilla war that has raged off and on in Kurdistan for over one hundred years.

The musicians moved on. The dancing stopped as abruptly as it had started, leaving an emptiness behind. Two of the youngest men, dressed in black sweaters, sungla.s.ses, and jeans, took off in the newer, cooler, black SUV, while the rest of us returned to the now-dying bonfire. The sun was setting. A tall, skeletal blind beggar, led by a blond girl, wandered from tent to tent.

"The worst people in the world are the Turks, and then come the Arabs," Siyabend said.

I looked at him, not knowing what to say. Uncomfortable subjects had been b.u.mping back and forth unspoken between us throughout the day. Until now, neither one of us had wanted to articulate them; the day had been too beautiful, there had been too much hope in the air.

"See over there." Siyabend pointed toward a Turkish mountain in the distance, its tip now blue-black, dipped in darkening snow. "That's where we went after the uprising. We stayed in a refugee camp there for two months and then they sent us to a camp near Mardin. We stayed there four years."

"Four years?" I said, surprised. Only my third day in Kurdistan, I still had much to learn. "The whole family?"

He nodded.

"Four hundred people died in the first camp," said one of his brothers.

"They tried to poison us with bread in the second," said one of the wives.

"The Turkish soldiers. .h.i.t the women."

"They kicked the children like footb.a.l.l.s."

"But we couldn't come back. Saddam-"

"He ga.s.sed his own people."

"He destroyed four thousand Kurdish villages."

"More than one hundred eighty thousand people disappeared."

"How did we survive?"

"G.o.d helped us."

FROM THE MOMENT I arrived in Kurdistan, I felt as if I had fallen through the back door of the world and into a tragic magic kingdom-the kind of place where tyrants' castles reigned over mist-filled valleys, beautiful damsels ran away with doomed princes, and ten-foot-tall heroes battled scaly green dragons as good clashed swords with evil. In reality, there was no kingdom-at least not of the type found in fairy tales-but I did find evil, as well as good, and castles and valleys, damsels and princes, magic and tragedy.

THE KURDS ARE the largest ethnic group in the world without a state of their own. Probably numbering between 25 and 30 million, they live in an arc of land that stretches through Turkey, Syria, Iraq, Iran, and parts of the former Soviet Union, with the vast majority residing in the region where Turkey, Syria, Iraq, and Iran meet. About eight hundred thousand Kurds also live in Europe, with about five hundred thousand of those in Germany, while some twenty-five thousand Kurds live in the United States and at least six thousand in Canada.

Not a country, Kurdistan cannot be found on modern maps. The term was first used as a geographical expression by the Saljuq Turks in the twelfth century and came into common usage in the sixteenth century, when much of the Kurdish region fell under the control of the Ottoman and Safavid Empires. For the Kurds themselves, Kurdistan is both an actual and a mythical place-an isolated, half-hidden, mountainous homeland that has historically offered sanctuary from the treacherous outside world, and from treacherous fellow Kurds.

I became interested in the Kurds during a 1998 journey to Iran. While there, I traveled to Sanandaj, Iran's unofficial Kurdish capital, where I was immediately struck by how different the area seemed from the rest of the Islamic Republic-heartbreaking in its lonesome beauty, and defiant. Despite a large number of Revolutionary Guards on the streets, the men swaggered and women strode. These people are not cowed, I thought-no wonder they make the Islamic government nervous.

In Sanandaj, I stayed with a Kurdish family I had met on the bus, and attended a wedding held in a small pasture filled with about two hundred people in traditional dress. To one side were the city's ugly concrete buildings; to another, empty lots strewn with litter. But the people and their costumes, framed by the far-off Zagros Mountains, transcended the tawdry surroundings. Women in bright reds, pinks, greens, blues, and golds. Men in baggy pants, woven belts, and heavy turbans. Boys playing with hoops. Girls dreaming by a bonfire. Musicians on a mournful flute and enormous drum, followed by circling men dancing single file, one waving a handkerchief over his head.

After I returned home, I began reading more about the Kurds. Who are these people, and why don't we know more about them?

The Kurds are the fourth-largest ethnic group in the Middle East-after the Arabs, Turks, and Persians-accounting for perhaps 15 percent of its population. They occupy some of the region's most strategic and richest lands. Turkey's Kurdistan contains major coal deposits, as well as the headwaters of the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers-important irrigation sources for Syria, Iraq, and Turkey. Iraqi Kurdistan holds significant oil reserves, and Turkey's and Syria's Kurdistan, lesser ones. Much of Iraqi and Syrian Kurdistan also lies in the fertile valley of and adjoining northern Mesopotamia, one of the world's richest breadbaskets and most ancient lands.

The Iraqi Kurds, numbering about 5 million, const.i.tute between one-fourth and one-fifth of Iraq's population. Despite much repression, they have always been recognized by the state as a separate ethnic group. Iraqi Kurds have at times held important government and military positions, and between 1992 and 2003, ran their own semiautonomous, fledgling democracy in Iraq's so-called "northern no-fly zone." PostSaddam Hussein, the Kurds are a.s.suming a central role in the forging of a new Iraq.

Numbering 13 or 14 million, or one-half of all Kurds, Turkey's Kurds comprise at least 20 percent of their nation and boast a birthrate that is nearly double that of their compatriots-promising an even greater presence in the future. Turkey's Kurds have been brutally repressed both culturally and politically since the founding of the modern Turkish Republic in 1923. Turkey is now striving to join the European Union, however, and its acceptance therein will depend largely on an improvement in its human rights record toward the Kurds.

Numbering about 6.5 million, or 10 percent of Iran's population, Iranian Kurds ran their own semiautonomous state as early as the 1300s. Today, they have about twenty reform-minded representatives in Iran's Parliament, who, along with many others, are pushing for more liberalization in the Islamic Republic. Syrian Kurds, although numbering only about 1.4 million, const.i.tute 9 percent of their country's spa.r.s.e population, with the Syrian capital of Damascus home to an influential Kurdish community since the Middle Ages.

Exact population figures for the Kurds are unavailable because no reliable census has been conducted for decades. All of the countries in which they reside regard them as a political threat and downplay their existence. And without a nation-state of their own, the Kurds have been slow in letting their presence be known to the outside world.

This is changing. Thanks in part to recent political developments, of which the Iraq war of 2003 is only the latest, and in part to a growing diaspora, satellite communications, and the Internet, today's Kurds are both rapidly developing a national consciousness as a people, and overcoming the geographic and psychic isolation that has plagued them for centuries. And as they do so, questions of nationalism, multiculturalism, and a possible future redrawing of international boundaries arise.

The Kurds possess an ancient and romantic culture, which many Kurds trace back to the Medes, a people mentioned in the Bible and other early texts. Inhabitants of the Kurdish lands may have pioneered agriculture as early as 12,000 B.C., while the first probable written mention of the Kurds appears in Anabasis, penned by Xenophon the Greek some twenty-four hundred years ago. In his account of a 401 B.C. battle, which pitted ten thousand Greek mercenaries against the Persian forces, he writes of the "Karduchoi"-probably Kurds: "The Greeks spent a happy night with plenty to eat. Talking about the struggle now past. For they pa.s.sed through the country of the Karduchoi, fighting all the time and they had suffered worse things at the hands of the Karduchoi than all that the King of Persia and his general, Tissaphernes, could do to them."

The Arab armies arrived in Kurdistan in A.D. 637, bringing with them the new religion of Islam. At first, the Kurdish tribes put up a fierce resistance, but as the enormous might of the Arabs became clear to them, they gradually converted to Islam, nominally submitting to the new central power. However, in a pattern that has continued up into the modern era, the Kurds' first loyalty remained to their tribal leaders, who retained considerable local authority.

In the tenth century A.D., the Kurds entered what some scholars call their "golden age." Kurds served as generals in the Islamic army, scholars and administrators in the Islamic court, and rulers of wealthy semiautonomous fiefdoms, which thrived on trade from the Silk Routes then pa.s.sing through the area. The most famous Muslim warrior of all time, Salah al-Din, or Saladin, was a Kurd born in A.D. 1137 in Tikrit-also the hometown of Saddam Hussein, the infamous former president of Iraq. Of the Hadhabani tribe, Saladin reconquered Jerusalem from Richard the Lionhearted during the Crusades. He established the Ayyubid dynasty, which ruled in some form until the end of the fifteenth century. It is unlikely, however, that Saladin thought of his central ident.i.ty as Kurdish; first and foremost, he was Muslim.

The vast majority of today's Kurds are also Muslim, with at least 75 percent belonging to the Sunni branch and 15 percent to the Shiite. Sunnis and Shiites are the two great factions of Islam, a schism based largely on the question of leadership succession. The Sunnis, who comprise about 90 percent of the world's 1.1 billion Muslims, believe that the Prophet Muhammad's successors should be chosen by consensus; the Shiites, who live mostly in Iran, believe that his successors should be his direct descendants. But whether Sunni or Shiite, most Kurds view themselves as moderate Muslims. The political side of Islam has also at times created tension between their Muslim and Kurdish ident.i.ties. Some nationalist Kurds even say that Islam is detrimental to their people, as it subjugates the Kurdish cause to the larger Islamic goal of a united world community of believers. "Don't have any confidence in a holy man even if his turban should be straight from heaven," goes one Kurdish proverb.

The Kurdish region is religiously diverse, with many other Kurds belonging to one of three small religious groups-the Yezidis, Ahl-e Haqqs or Kakais, and Alevis-whose faiths combine pre-Islamic and Islamic beliefs; some scholars cla.s.sify the Ahl-e Haqqs and Alevis as Muslim. Non-Kurdish Christian groups such as the a.s.syrians and Chaldeans (a Catholic branch of the a.s.syrians) also live in the area, as do evangelical Christians and a few Armenians, though most Armenians left the region following the Turks' ma.s.sacres of their communities in the 1890s and 1915. A large Jewish Kurdish community once lived in Kurdistan, but departed the area after the founding of Israel.

The 1200s and 1300s brought disaster to the Kurdish lands. First came waves of Mongol invasions headed by Hulagu, grandson of Genghis Khan, destroying many Kurdish villages and major towns. Then came the invasions of the emperor Tamerlane and his son, who, after capturing Baghdad and Damascus, again sacked hundreds of Kurdish settlements.

But by the sixteenth century, the region was again flourishing. Under the reign of the Ottoman and Safavid Empires, which rose to power in Turkey and Persia respectively in the early 1500s, Kurdish princes ruled over emirates with such romantic-sounding names as Bahdinan, Bitlis, and Jazira bin Umar. Often only loosely controlled by their Turkish and Persian overlords, the princes had powerful militias-composed of nominally allied tribes-at their command, and courts filled with musicians, poets, scientists, and religious scholars. A complex social and political order was maintained, as the Kurdish princes, Kurdish tribes, Ottomans, and Safavids successfully balanced power among them for about three hundred years.