Saturday, May 01, 2004

Qamishlu is a little town in Syria that borders both Turkey and Iraq. For most Kurds traveling back home it is a major stop. Both because it has a large Kurdish population and also because this is where you stop at the local KDP office and make sure your documents are in order before usually taking a boat across the Syrian border to the Kurdish/Iraqi side and officially entering into Kurdistan.

When we arrived in Qamishlu it was still before noon. Since it was early, usually you have to get your name approved and listed before noon or you will have to wait for the next day, we assumed we would be able to keep going and cross that day. Yet when we arrived at the KDP office we were told that it was too late, too many people, Tomorrow...We were exhausted, with three small children, Tomorrow was not what we wanted to hear. We tried to ask why, but they ignored us and kept making our paperwork ready for tomorrow...In the end I guess they were really busy or just didn't feel like making the effort that day. When they got to me they asked the name of my parents and I told them they said that won't work. I said why not. They told me that Syria would question my parents names because they sounded foreign, and I would have a better chance if I changed them to Kurdish ones. So my mom, Patricia, became Piroz. When that was done they told us to make ourselves comfortable at one of the local hotels. They had a taxi guy on call and he drove us over there. We got two rooms. One for the two ladies accompanying us and one for me, the kids and Meran's cousin. Each room had an enclosed shower and two twin sized beds. Down the hall there was a community bathroom, with about 4 stalls and two sinks. The toilets were Mideast style, porcelain like ours, but sunk in the ground with no base, making one to have to squat to use the toilet. They also had the water hoses, no paper, due to the Muslim tradition of cleaning oneself after using the toilet.

After we bargained a price for the room and got ourselves situated I layed down with the boys. Eventually all three fell asleep with me, all of us on one twin size bed. I took this opportunity to go buy some dinner and honestly, to go explore. Since I was a child I have always wanted to see the world. I was envious of Indiana Jones. Now here I was, in a foreign country and I was eating it up. Everything I saw, the stores, the people was new, and it was exciting. Because that area of town was populated with a lot of Kurds I was able to ask around where to get food. Yet the place I went to they ended up only speaking Arabic. Lucky for me, I took two years of Arabic in college, and while I am not fluent, I know enough to ask a price, know the price, pay, and say thanks. I ended up buying a whole chicken, yogurt, bread, and three drinks for around $3. In Syria, most things are dirt cheap, you almost feel wrong paying that little.

I went back up to the room, but the boys were still napping so I decided to go back and go shopping at the bazaar. I asked Meran's cousin, Abdullah to watch the boys, Mu'min had woke up, so I took him with me. We went around the bazaar, looking at watches, clothing, perfume, and many other trinkets. In the end I bought a soccer ball and three sweaters, for the little cousins whom we were going to be staying with. In Kurdish culture, when you come from a far away place, or when you come back for that matter, bringing gifts is a big deal. It really isn't so much the gift, but bringing it that counts. It isn't such a bad tradition, especially when you are on the receiving end!!

The only really annoying thing about the bazaar and what I encountered in a lot of places is the children that beg in the market place. They come up to you and say "Aunt", a term of respect there, "Do you have some money?" Prior to leaving for overseas, I was warned that not all of these poor-looking children are as poor as they make out to be and to be careful. One girl I ran into I kept politely turning her down, but she kept asking me over and over. Finally she grabbed my shirt, I asked her to let go but for about a half block she wouldn't release her grip, I guess in the hopes I would finally give her something. I was fed up and I turned to her, grabbed her by the shoulders and said "Do you want me to hit you?" in Kurdish. I think I shocked her because she was silent and walked away. Later me and one of the ladies traveling with me ran across the same girl, as she approached that lady to ask her for something she saw me and suddenly changed directions. I just smiled!