Erbil: The host city of sports t ournaments - Kurdish Globe

Last page
No. 276, Saturday, October 09, 2010
The jewel of Erbil
M
emoirs
By Sazan M. Mandalawi
You will never imagine where
I am when writing this week’s
memoirs. It is like a dream. I
feel like I am above the clouds
and I own the world. Welcome
to another small incident of my
life, the life of a Kurdish girl in
the journey of discovery of her
own nest.
No, I am not in Venice or
Paris. I am not in Washington,
Sydney, or any other place that
may come to your mind. But
right now I wouldn’t replace
where I am sitting with any
other place in the world.
No, you did not guess. Let me
provide you with a major clue.
I am sitting by a window in
what is the oldest continuously
inhabited place in the world.
Yes, today I came to discover
what I should have discovered
on the first day of my arrival in
Erbil--the Citadel.
I’m sitting on the dust at
the edge of an old, shattered
window of a quiet room of
what was once an inhabited
house. The walls are decorated
with the most amazing designs
and architecture. The tattered,
ancient wooden door looks too
precious for me touch, but I
can feel my hand shaking as I
wiped some of the dust on its
surface.
I walked alone in the little
alleyways (I must admit it is
A tourist in
my own city
not easy for someone with a cat
phobia). I went behind walls,
looked through windows, and
sat on stairs. I touched the
walls like they were made
of diamonds, and I sat on
stones observing every inch
of my surroundings. “Am I
in a dream?” The experience
is beyond what words can
describe.
I have seen many great and
ancient places in different
corners of the world, but none
of the places I have seen,
touched, and smelled has been
as unique as this. “What is it
about this place that makes me
feel like this?” I asked myself
during my lonely journey of
discovery.
As I sit by the window, the
mosques all began echoing
midday prayers. To the
background of the sound of
mosques and as the gentle
breeze blows through my hair
and the sun shines on my face,
I can see the fountains and
the energy of city life below.
I see rooftops of mud houses
alongside the emerging sky line
of buildings practically made
of glass. I realize what it is
about this place that makes me
feel this way. I feel as though
it is mine. In fact it is mine, I
do own it. This place is part of
who I am; it is my culture, my
identity, and my heritage. It is
mine.
“Why didn’t I take this
journey four years ago? Why
today?” I kept asking myself.
I can imagine just how many
people have missed the chance
of walking inside the old roads
of the Citadel, because once
you have done so there is no
way you will look at it like you
used to.
I have always been amazed
by the features of the Citadel.
The large Kurdish flag in the
center that can bee seen from
almost any corner has always
made me shiver. But after four
years, walking or driving past
almost every day I began to
take it for granted.
You do not realize the depth
of its meaning and the specialty
it holds within you until you
walk in its roads and see the
inside with your own eyes.
Touch the walls, listen to the
sounds, smell the bricks, and
taste the water. After all this,
you will realize that a new
sense emerges within you, one
of feelings, love, devotion, and
attachment. This place feels
like my own home, with all its
emptiness.
For the past three hours I
have been like a tourist in
my own city, on my own soil.
After today’s experience, and
as I look out at the view of my
city from above, sitting on dust
and ants crawling on my jeans,
I can’t help but say that I am
sitting in this region’s most
expensive jewel, and the jewel
of my life--Erbil’s very own
ancient Citadel.
كۆمپانیای
تارین نێت
خرمەتگوزارییەكانی كۆمپانیای تارین نێت لەم شارو شارۆچكە خۆشەویستانە كار دەكات
حاجی ئۆمەران
رەواندز شەقاڵوە پیرمام سۆران هەولێر سەرسەنگ
ئامێدی ئاكرێ زاخۆ دهۆك .
بۆ خزمەت گوزاری ئەنتەرنێتی بێ تەل
WIRELESS INTERNET
0750 451 1666 - 0750 418 3060 - 066 253 7500 info@tarinnet.net