Between 1973 and 2010 I travelled twelve times to the Kurdistan Region, which resulted in two books and dozens of articles. It had been exciting and wonderful, but after the twelfth trip I decided to focus on other subjects.
Quite unexpectedly, I was back in May last year to attend the opening of the Barzani National Memorial in Barzan: a fast dash in and out, just 48 hours after I left home in The Hague in Holland I was back. But it had been long and joyful enough to rekindle my love for Kurdistan and the Kurds. Therefore I was delighted when, on 11 November last year, I received an email from Sirwan Rahim, a documentary filmmaker at Rudaw. They were considering making a program about my work in the Kurdistan Region, in particular my photobook The Kurds of Iraq (2009), which contained photos and stories of my journeys since 1973. We would go back to some of the places where I had taken some of those shots, and I could talk about the differences.
To cut a long story short: on March 1 I arrived at Erbil Airport where Sirwan awaited me, and the next day we started a week of shooting. We began at the old minaret in Erbil and two days later we commenced our journey with a ride via the Gali Ali Beg and further east along the Hamilton road.
In Choman we left the paved roads and drove up a steep slope to arrive at a half frozen lake which offered magnificent views.
A group of Arab tourists were fighting the cold lighting fires at their picnic place while we, especially camera man Dlshad Jolla, were looking for the best angles to take pictures from. On we went, to Haji Omaran where on August 2, 1973 I had interviewed and photographed Mulla Mustafa Barzani.
Regrettably we had to abandon any plans to find the exact place or do any other outdoor shooting as snow was falling all around.
But in Rawanduz, the next morning, the team collected a lot of material.
At Sirwan’s request I donned the Kurdish suit which Mulla Mustafa had given to me, as well as to each of my six fellow travelers…
… and with the stunning gorge as a backdrop, told about that unforgettable experience. Impossible to put in words, even though I tried, was to describe his presence – he radiated energy and power – and the friendly piercing look in his eyes.
In Rawanduz we met the son of Said Jabar Said Aziz who ran the 19th century Old Teahouse there since 1954 till he died, a few years ago. In that memorable place, right on the edge of the gorge, I and my six friends from Holland had tea right before entering the area controlled by the Kurdistan Democratic Party (KDP) in 1973.
