Kurdish Hospitality and a Spring in Erbil

 

By SOFIA BARBARANI

ERBIL, Kurdistan Region - The first thing I noticed as the airplane made its way into Iraq’s Kurdistan Region were the snow-capped mountains that Kurds so often refer to as their only friends. As Erbil, the capital of this autonomous region began to take shape in the distance, the ground below us turned into a canvas of yellow and green. It is spring in Kurdistan, a breathtaking season according to the Kurds I’d spoken to; a fact I can confirm. We stepped out of the airport as a gust of hot dry air welcomed us.

I was introduced to Kurdistan by chance, a year and a half ago. It was largely unknown to me, apart from a few faded memories of genocidal stories, and a vague understanding of its geographical location. Like many of my peers, I was ignorant to the Kurds’ rich cultural heritage and unaware that their ethnic and linguistic roots differed immensely from most of their neighbors. My interest in the region had grown rapidly, and whilst history books and word of mouth had momentarily served their purpose, I was set on visiting the region.

 

The Kurds are one of the world’s largest stateless people, with a combined total of about 30 million, scattered mostly in Turkey, Syria, Iraq and Iran. Iraqi Kurds, roughly estimated at five million, have been autonomous since the 2003 US-led invasion that toppled Saddam Hussein’s dictatorial regime in Baghdad.

Erbil airport is the first sign of Kurdistan’s booming economy and increasing modernity. The international arrivals terminal is a clean-cut modern infrastructure, with towering glass windows and a deceptive sense of collected organization; a stark contrast with the lively chaos of Erbil’s city centre. That sense of chaos did become more apparent on the road, as the driver sped through the yellow fields and into the heart of the city, dodging incoming traffic and performing immaculate U-turns.

The capital’s streets snake between old buildings and modern additions. The new homes have been enclosed in guarded complexes on the outskirts of the city center, whilst the older ones stand unwavering at the feet of Erbil’s beautiful citadel, a site claimed to be the oldest continuously inhabited town in the world. I had heard so much about the heart of Erbil that standing beneath it felt somewhat surreal. As we ventured through the gate, I marveled at the many tourists who had flocked here to view the sights.

Spring brings a large influx of tourism, a source of revenue the region is working to maintain. Lying at the feet of the citadel is the covered Qaysari Bazaar, a lively labyrinth of dark paths and tiny shops. One of the bazaar’s gems is Mam Khalil’s teashop, a tiny room covered in photographs of important Kurdish figures. The moment we stepped in we were greeted by a lively old man, who welcomed us with two glasses of hot chai. I sat back with a smile, cigarette in one hand and hot tea in the other, as my ears honed into the conversations around me, trying to pick up on the Kurdish words I had learnt so far. 

Like many cities striving to keep up with the world’s rapid development, there is a push-and-pull between maintaining the city’s sense of identity and incorporating modernity; whilst the skyline is continuously changing, the KRG is making sure to restore the citadel to its former glory in an attempt to preserve Kurdistan’s history.

 

As I discovered on my stroll through the narrow streets of the city centre, Erbil still retains a clear sense of character and identity. While local businesses appear to thrive, there is a clear absence of imported brands, and although the words “foreign”, “investment” and “development” get bounced around a lot, there is still a palpable sense of Kurdish identity in Erbil. The booming economy is yet to overtake tradition.

Whether Erbil will lose itself in the dangerous wonders of modernity is down to speculation, but one thing I can ascertain is that Kurdish hospitality is in fact all that it is made out to be. In Italy, we like to think we are welcoming, the epitome of Mediterranean hospitality. But it pales next to Kurdistan’s warmth. Safe to say, I don’t feel far from home, and Erbil has lived up to the expectations I had been building up for the last year and a half.

It is a mishmash of old and new, in the heart of a region that until recently was stripped of its rights. Erbil alone is a clear example of the steps that have been taken by civilians and authorities to make the region a safe haven amidst a troubled region. Kurdish resilience is present in all the different kinds of developments that are taking place. I come from a country that has been stagnant for as long as I can remember.  To see the speed at which Erbil is moving forward is an uplifting experience.