Kurdistan: An unrecognised nation of vegan delights, cinematic brilliance and a haunting novel
still remember the day one of my children came home from school and said: “I have a new friend from a country that doesn’t exist.” After a long and confusing discussion we concluded that they were talking about Kurdistan — the homeland of the 30–40 million Kurdish people who make up the largest stateless population in the world. Even having spent a week armchair travelling there, I’m hard pushed to say what Kurdistan is… the simplest answer I have is that there were various forms of pre-Ottoman Kurdistan, and a short-lived agreement to have a post-Ottoman Kurdistan as part of the Treaty of Sevres (which also defined Armenia, Yemen, Syria, Asir and Hejaz). Sadly the Kurdish State only lasted until 1919, before morphing into different forms, culminating in the Republic of Mahabad (an automonomous region of Iran) which dissolved in 1946. The resulting chaos has left Kurdish communities spread across Iraq, Iran, Syria and Turkey where they are often horrifically oppressed.
This week’s book Daughters of Smoke and Fire, a bildungsroman by Ava Home, focuses on the Kurdish community of Iran, but instead of being the story a young girl, Leila, growing up, it is, initially at least, the story of her being crushed down. It’s another reminder that when one group in society is persecuted, women often bear a double oppression within the community and a triple one within the family. Leila maps her father’s trauma through the scars left by his torturers, and uses it to justify the pain he’s passing down onto his children. But, gladly, the story grows into one of how to escape intergenerational trauma through forgiveness, understanding and self-love. Leila nearly loses herself in her desperation to keep the memory of her murdered brother alive, but finally realises she deserves to exist, that she is real and that she can tell her own story. Yes, I would recommend it…
…But not as much as I would urge you to watch this week’s film A time for drunken horses, which is set on the Iran-Iraq border (a far snowier place than I expected). It is the story of children earning a living by smuggling tyres, books, and other essentials over the borders, first in trucks and then with horses who need to be bribed with vodka to get them moving. The film was name-checked in Daughters of Smoke and Fire when Leila reminds herself that no matter how hard she has it, these smuggler children have it worse. It stars real people — not actors, which means that even though it isn’t a documentary, it has a Cinéma vérité feel. It is a stark reminder of the difference between Hollywood films like “Now you see me” whose job is to distract us from reality and international films designed to open us up to others’ lives. Watching it was visceral, you can feel the cold, you can imagine the pain and you can understand why they need to get the horses drunk to make their perilous journeys. It even has a happy ending… of sorts.
Unfortunately life is so hectic these days that I could not cook all 10 of these Kurdish vegan recipes, but each one looks incredible. Instead I focussed on simplicity, heading to Kurdistan Mini Market (since renamed Anya supermarket) for their legendary bread, and paired it with a lentil soup called Nisk (recipe from a Turkish Kurdish MEP), and Mercimekli Mualla, an aubergine pepper dish. I made sure to buy enough bread to go with our breakfast of temate û hêkêt qelandî, literally fried tomatoes and eggs.
The eggs weren’t vegan and neither was this week’s drink, ayran, a salty yoghurt drink that I can only presume has some health-giving properties! In the background, all week I listened to an amazing playlist of old Kurdish music which I sadly lost! I tried to recreate it here, but soon gave up and suggest listening to this instead which is almost as good!
But before I head to Kuwait, I must say a word or two about the largely Kurdish Democratic Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria, also known as Rojava, which is governed according to jineology, a form of feminism which believes that “a country can’t be free unless the women are free”, and that the level of women’s freedom determines the level of freedom in society at large. The links explain a bit more about it and I found it enormously freeing counterpoint to this week’s novel as it shows we are not bound to continue previous generational injustices. One day Kurdistan will finally be free, and when that day comes they may just bring messages of hope and peace and justice for us all.
