Your nest is no longer Kurdistan.

I heard you left.

You left a place I call my nest, and you decide to fly, ironically, you decide to fly with no wings to a place yet to give you a nest. But you are determined to build one.

Photo: Jamal Yad click here for more

I thought and thought of why I should tell you no, then I decided who am I to tell you don’t?

While my children sit in warm classes in winter learning their alphabet, yours might be suffering under the smell of a soba with a ftila that hasn’t been changed since last winter… or maybe your child has a disability and is immediately an outcast in society…

Who am I to tell you no, when I pay service charge in a segregated area that grants me 24-hour electricity all year round, every day, while you go through summer nights, often without electricity.

Who am I to tell you don’t when I can go and see medical specialists anytime I wish in their private clinics in the afternoon, you might not afford the transport.

Who am a I to tell you no, when I can save money and travel the world, whereas your passport doesn’t let you see the other side of the border.

Who am I to tell you no, when you have been refused marriage proposals because you don’t own a house of your own or you don’t have her dowry ready.

Who am I to tell you no, when I am among the privileged, and the comfortable…

Who am I to tell you no while I am enjoying a warm coffee behind my laptop, as I write this post…

However, I was a daughter of immigrant parents, we crossed the seas and oceans for a better life, we created a new life, we built a home in far away lands, I saw the laughter but I also saw the struggle and the tears too…

I was entering the front door back from school when my mother fell on the floor hearing the news of her brother’s funeral, and I was old enough to witness my father’s tears by the kitchen sink for the first time in my life as he hangup the phone, grandma had left.

I watched when the television channel was always on Kurdistan, and home became a dream

I felt the loneliness experienced when families back home sent photos of their moments together,

My dearest, did no one tell you loneliness is a silent killer?

Have you felt the feeling of the world closing down at 6 pm, doors shut, streets empty, darkness makes an early appearance and it’s just you and the four walls of your home?

Whose hand will you hold for halparke during Newroz?

Who will you enjoy your Jezhn meals with?

Who will knock at your door in the evenings just to say hello?

Which neighbour will bring you food when you feel unwell?

Or who will you leave the spare house key with?

What will you do on a Friday afternoon, without Mali Daya w Baba?

So tell me who is your local naanawa, or where do you get your samooni garm from? Who tailors your Jli Kurdi and how will the mornings be without a good morning to Haaji on your way to work?

Have you wondered the feeling of making new connections in a language that is not your own? Have you felt the feeling of a punctured tire in the middle of the highway, balam kas bot ranawaste?

Have you thought of how it is to be working a job from morning to night, this is not ta’een or wazarati karaba, a job that squeezes you in all its ways?

Money doesn’t come down like rain in the west, but I understand you want to live better…

My dearest, here I am asking, why not here?

Why can we not build the best of schools and facilities? Why not create more jobs, and social security? Why not ensure the rights of individuals? Why not invest in the mental and physical health of our people? Why not build our own nest? There is no place like your nest, but a few twigs need adjusting to make it more comfortable, a few new twigs need to be brought, to make it hold better, and like any nest, we must keep building, fixing and adapting… those in power must make life easier for the public, the public need to grow, develop and dedicate themselves to create a better society…. if not for ourselves, then for our children..

lots of love from

My Nest in Kurdistan



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