Hama Dostan

Black Wind from the Kurdish Hills

translated by

Paul Conlon

Dedicated to the memory of my sister Piroza and my cousin Anwar

With thanks for support and comments to my wife and friend, Anneli Dostan, and to my colleague Louise Marie Kjellin

PROLOGUE

It is now 1976 and the first rains of spring have stopped, the sun shines down on the city's roadways and pavements, still wet, and the sky is lit up with a gleaming bluish tint. Kadir is curled up in his narrow bed, waking up late in the afternoon without hearing children either making noise, fighting or running. With his tired eyes he looks at the clock and gets up. He is stiff all over and looks at himself in the bathroom mirror. What he sees is an angular, tense and bearded face with two nervous black eyes under thick black eyebrows. His hair is mussed up and his face looks angry. He rinses his face quickly, turns the radio on and lies down on the couch to listen. As his gaze moves across the room, it is caught by a picture on the wall. It is an oil painting done by a famous artist. It shows an armed freedom fighter resembling Saddam riding on a white horse. Kadir feels depressed from looking at it. He is suddenly scared by the thought that the new Peshmerga leadership has sent him a letter telling him to join the new Peshmerga war in Kurdistan. The Peshmergas were Kurdish guerrilla fighters and the very name means "one step ahead of death." "My life is not my own anymore," he says to himself in a sad voice, "time is running out and I will soon have no other way out." The clock keeps on ticking and Kadir stays lying on the couch until he is suddenly freed from his sombre thoughts and starts to feel very hungry. He puts his suit on and goes to a nearby restaurant to eat lunch. Then he heads for Shoriga, Baghdad's oldest section, to buy a doll for Raza's daughter, Little Zhian. He searches for a long while and finally finds what he is looking for. "Time always flies in these neighbourhoods," he says to himself and his attention is distracted by Baghdad's beautiful girls with their divine figures and their beautiful big eyes. He responds to the gazes of these women and sees friendliness and empathy in them. He misses the company of a girl, any girl. Kadir strolls along the streets and feels completely empty inside from fatigue. He sits down in a cafeteria to rest for a while. The sun shines relentlessly on Baghdad, and its streets and markets are full of people, carts and cars. Street peddlers shout and hawk out their wares. Children shining shoes or selling cigarettes are everywhere, carrying their boxes in front of them, tied with a string around their necks. Kadir continues his stroll. A swarm of people, carts, cars and unexpected obstacles forces him to walk carefully. People have to be careful that they don't bump into each other as they pass through streets and markets. The thoughts that earlier ruminated inside him are silenced by all the noise. It is just after four in the afternoon when a caravan of military vehicles and tanks with elite troops make their way forward through the streets, taking armed caterpillartrack vehicles and gun carriages with them. Kadir looks at the troops and feels a violent

fear shoot through his body. There is no doubt that the troops are on their way to Kurdistan. He is reminded of former times and has a feeling of his own inadequacy. "Now I'm on my way to Kurdistan," he says with a quivering voice and with tears welling up. "Soon hell will break loose. Should I be there too or should I forget all about it, that's the big question."

Dusk falls slowly and Kadir walks towards the river Tigris. He starts to walk faster as he comes up to the bank of the river where he sits down on a bench. The Tigris dozes off slowly in the moonlight and the light of the moon is reflected in the water together with the thousands of multicoloured lights from the many restaurants and outdoor cafes along the riverside. In the dark expanse, the never-ending wailing of the waves is heard, mixed together with the light of the night's insects, far-off Arab music and far away the bustle of a heavily trafficked street. Families stroll here, couples still in love and groups of young men and women. Kadir is overcome by a strong feeling of loneliness in the middle of this constant stream of people. He feels that he doesn't belong together with anyone else this evening. Suddenly he can no longer stand the absence of closeness and togetherness with his family, with friends, relatives and neighbours in his neighbourhood. His memories wander back in time to the war years.

1961

Halabja was transformed as if green carpets had been spread out over the ground. Impromptu rivulets snaked there way alongside the mountain passes. Birds, big or small, filled the limitless blue sky with magnificent colours. The leaves on the trees started to bloom and provided people with shade and shelter against the increasing heat. Everywhere there were yellow, white and red flowers with overpowering fragrances. From Halabja you could see the mighty high mountains all around and a broad plain that extended as far as the eye could see. Soon everybody, young or old, rich or poor, was celebrating the arrival of spring by taking excursions. Families, relatives and friends spread out across the meadows and around springs and sang, danced, laughed and made noise.

Outside in the neighbourhood where Kadir lived some fifty children of different ages would gather. Some of the children sold little packages with beans, small sweets and cakes to the others. Children were completely occupied playing football, marbles and other games and were busily absorbed gaping and giggling, teasing and wrestling with each other. You could easily see what family the children came from. Some of them were clean and wore fine clothes and expensive shoes while others were dirty and sweaty with torn clothing patched up with bits of cloth of different colours. There was constant fighting among them about who would be allowed to decide and who would have to give in. Anyone who couldn't make his voice heard was lost in the eyes of the kids. Nice kids were harassed and were laughed at on a daily basis for the least little thing. Boys with several siblings formed their own gangs and defended themselves very well against their environment.

The young boys' language had always been full of denigrating remarks and swearing and obscenities were constantly heard. Almost all of the children had nicknames like Big Head, Hook Nose, Fatso, Hairless, The Lame One, The Blind One or Cross-Eyed. Kadir's nickname was Big Mouth. The girls were allowed to play outside when they were little, but when they were bigger they were only allowed to be inside with each other or to help with household work. When they had got to a certain age it was felt that it was no longer proper for them to be outside on the streets together with the boys. Almost all boys had some adult to go to where they could feel safe when they were beat up or bullied. There was no lack of women who consoled children and showed

them tenderness but there were also others who, with or without good cause, twisted the ears of children or slapped them.

Kadir's neighbourhood defended its borders and was a safe place for the kids that lived there. But there had been serious tensions between children from different neighbourhoods. This led to constant conflicts and fights between them and the adults were forced to step in and try to make peace between them. Compared with other kids, Kadir could take care of himself. He got beaten up less thanks to the fact that he came from a large family with lots of relatives. He listened to the adults and learned how to exercise power and gradually he began to dominate other children in his neighbourhood. He struck first before being hit himself. Attack was the best defence, he felt and it didn't matter if he was right or not, it was generally a matter of putting other kids in their place and showing off one's strength.

Kadir had been named after the nickname of a mighty God. It was his mother, Amina, who had insisted that he be given this name. She was very religious, unlike his father, Brahem. She had almost died in childbirth with Kadir and therefore she promised God that she would call her child a name that would entail a blessing. "He is my son and he'll have a Kurdish name!" shouted father Brahem and stretched out his arms. His straight back and his hardened palms shook in anger. Mother Amina went back into the kitchen without showing how she felt, her expression betraying no feelings. "I've promised my God that he should have one of God's nicknames," said Amina before slamming the door behind her. After that, Amina was silent for three weeks. The fourth week she stopped eating. Brahem walked up and down the neighbourhood's streets, scared and confused. What would be worse, to give in and lose face in front of the neighbours or to act like a real despot and drive his wife to the grave. Finally it was Alan and cousin Omar who persuaded him to give in. So Amina got what she wanted. For the name-giving ceremony all the neighbours and relatives were invited to a huge party. It was only on the evening of that day that Brahem reapproached Amina who was sitting and nursing the little boy in their bedroom. "When you're finished, I'll go out with Kadir so he can fall asleep out in the fresh air."

"That's fine," said Amina in a matter-of-fact tone of voice as if the previous four weeks had never happened at all. "If you do that, then I'll put some water on for tea by the time you get back." Father Brahem sat out in the summer evening with his son Kadir in his arms.

Kadir grew up and at the age of thirteen his thoughts were more or less occupied with the neighbour's girl, Susan, who had moved into the neighbourhood a year before. He fell in love with her from the first time he saw her and he admired her from a distance and he would frequently sit outside his own house or hang around close to the girl's house in order to get a glimpse of her. He idolised her in his thoughts and constantly longed for her lovely nature. He had to wait for months and was looking forward to spring to get an opportunity to see her from close-up, to see her thick black hair and her big dark brown eyes. Such an opportunity for close contact was to materialise when the families went on an outing together in the spring. And finally the day came when Kadir's wish was fulfilled when they went on an outing together the second day in the week. They each sat on their own mattress on the back of the truck and Kadir could hardly dare to look at the girl. He was shy and had a feeling that everyone else on the truck was a mind reader. Every now and then his gaze caught Susan's and he saw a smile in her enthusiastic and curious eyes. Kadir panicked when Little Brother teased the girl and pulled on her long black pigtails. Paralysed with rage, he looked at his brother and felt like killing him on the spot, so much was he ashamed of his little brother. His elder brother Sirwan sensed the tension in Kadir's eyes and became curious. "What's the matter with you, Kadir, are you in love, boy? It's not like you to sit there so still and proper. You look like you're constipated!" Kadir became nervous and uttered something unintelligible. "Stop it. I have a pain in my stomach!" "Do you have a pain in your heart or in your stomach," sneered Sirwan and pointed at the neighbour's girl. Kadir was so embarrassed that his heart almost jumped out of his chest. Little Brother heard what Sirwan said and right away started to tease him. "Kadir is in love with a girl!" Kadir threw himself at Little Brother and pulled his hair. Mother Amina separated them and crossly said to Sirwan: "It's your fault that Kadir got mad. Leave Kadir alone, you are twice as big as he is."

"I only wanted to ask what was wrong with him," answered Sirwan with a wry smile. He looks so worried, it looks like he has caught love fever!"

The journey continued and the cool wind blew dust into the truck, into their eyes and mouths. Kadir didn't dare look in the girl's direction, mainly out of fear that he would end up in his brothers' line of fire but in the corner of his eye he could catch a glimpse of the brown eyes looking straight at him before they hid again under their long eye lashes. This glimpse was a signal for Kadir that she had seen him! His heart thumped and his blood froze. Now he had been given away for good! With a quick movement, he gave Little Brother a hard jab in the side so that he yelled out. Kadir then lay back on the mattress and closed his eyes.

Several days later the boys gathered together and were wandering around the narrow streets where women always sat in front of the house of the old Widow, a powerful woman who meddled in everyone else's conflicts. The boys simply called her "the Widow" and non-one knew what her real name was. They often got a taste of her rough hands. A dog on Kadir's street had puppies and when that happened the kids defied their parents and together built a doghouse, something that appalled the women. The Widow yelled so uncontrollably that the ground shook from her mighty anger when the kids petted the puppies or picked them up in their lap. "Stop that, you disobedient demons," she shouted. "You're not allowed to pet dogs!" But the boys didn't care what she said. When the puppies ran up to them and wagged their tails, they forgot what their parents had said. The gave names to all of the puppies and the kids fought with each other when the puppies got names like Shira, Brunna, and so forth. Kadir's mother chided him and forbade him to pet the dogs but Kadir listened to her without paying attention. Kadir went out on the street past Susan's home and stared a little extra between the door opening but was not able to see her. He walked slowly towards the doghouse, his face was angry and his hair was mussed up. He stopped and called out to Big Head, a little boy whose face was covered with flies and who was kicking a ball with a playmate of the same age. "Come here, Big Head! You too there with the big ears!"

Kadir's voice caused the boys to stop immediately and listen. The boys came up to him quickly and asked what he wanted. "Are you blind? Can't you see that the pups are hungry? Now you have a chance to show what you're worth! Run and get a few leftovers from the butcher!" The boys ran off like the wind towards the city, overjoyed that they could finally perform a service that would see them join the army of the brave.

In the vicinity of the doghouse a few boys were shooting marbles. It didn't take long before a fight had broken out. Fatso had fallen out with Blue Eye and knocked him down. Kadir quickly got in between them and tried to hold Fatso down. "You ass, you're twice as big as he is and should really know better than to hit someone who's smaller." "He's cheating," hissed Fatso. "The bastard, I'll break every bone in his body." Blue Eye became blue in the face from rage. He picked up a big cane and lunged at Fatso and shook it at him. Fatso got scared and ran home. All of the kids laughed and shouted when they saw what had happened. "Fatso, you chicken!" Just as he said that, the boys that Kadir had sent to get food came back with a bag full of leftovers. The puppies immediately grasped what was going on and ran to meet them with their tails wagging and all of the kids crowded around them. "You've done a good job," Kadir contentedly said to the boys, "No one can call you Big Ear or Big Head anymore, now you've shown us what you can do." Kadir pointed with his finger and said: "Tomorrow it will be someone else's turn to get food for the puppies!" He turned to the younger boys. "Give me the bag," said Kadir with a satisfied look on his face and threw the leftovers of food to the puppies. The boys waited impatiently to see the puppies eat them up and were overjoyed to see the little dogs pouncing on the food. It was hardly more than a few minutes before the dogs had devoured all the food and started to run around and play with each other.

The old Widow saw what was happening and went out of her mind. She shouted at Kadir: "You'll bring shame on us! You are the nastiest boy on the street, don't you know that we're Muslims and that petting dogs is forbidden because they're unclean!" The Widow thumped her chest with her hands and raised her voice even higher:

"The dogs have to get out of this neighbourhood, because of these damned dogs we can't go out on the street. They run up to us all the time. What in God's name am I to do? Kadir and Little Brother will be the death of me!" The children were used to the Widow and her nagging and cursing. They took no heed of her temper tantrums. The Widow hated all the kids just as much as she hated her own. She was someone who always blamed everything on others and never admitted a mistake. Kadir was afraid that she might be thinking of calling in Dog Killer. He closed his eyes and felt queasy about the Widow's threats. He remembered the time the year before when Dog Killer had put several little puppies to death in front of his own eyes. Kadir stood by in silence and was close to tears. He wished with all his heart that the Widow was dead.

Blue Eye, proud to have driven off Fatso, repeated over and over again: "I punched him on the jaw!" He came up to Kadir and nudged him. "Are you dreaming, Kadir?" Kadir shook his head and pushed Blue Eye away. "Leave me along," said Kadir angrily. "Didn't you hear what the Widow said? Some day soon shell see to it that all puppies are gone forever." "We'll hide them over at my house!" "Out of the question, your mama and papa will kill you if you do that." "Why?" "Because they're unclean." "No," said Blue Eye, "I think they're cute, I like puppies so much, I think they're great. But I hate cats, I throw stones at them when I see them. The damned cats ate up my dove. When I'm big I'll kill every damn cat in town." "Shut up now!," said Kadir, "You're talking me to death." Fatso came out again and threw stones at the puppies. Kadir went out of his mind and chased him away. Fatso then went up on the roof and shouted: "Dogs are unclean, killing them is a service for the city!" Blue Eye turned to Kadir and asked: "But why do they have to be killed?" "Stop nagging, damn it," said Kadir in a rage.

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Kadir looked at the puppies in horror. For the first time in his life he felt completely empty and full of rage. He dreamed of being able to save the puppies and hide them so that Dog Killer couldn't find them. Blue Eye awakened Kadir from his dreaming and said: "Did you see Dog Killer? Do you think he'll go get his rifle and shoot the puppies?" "Leave me alone," said Kadir angrily, "Shut up!" There was silence for a moment. The children started to play marbles again and it wasn't long before squabbling broke out once more and the old Widow came and twisted the ears of several of the boys. Before she left again she called out to Shama: "Poor motherless Fatih wallows in his own shit. Hell, you can't even see his face, covered as it is with a thousand flies! Where is aunt Narin? Go get her!" Little Brother snuck out and took a few juicy pieces of meat with him and threw them to the puppies. The Widow chanced to see him. She got up, thumped her chest and shook all over before throwing a little stone at Little Brother and yelling in a loud voice: "Amina's sons will be the death of me. We don't have enough meat at home and now these trouble makers are feeding the dogs with the little food there is!" Looking angry, the Widow turned to one of the women and said: "Hurry up and go home and tell Amina!" The woman got up and hurried off to Amina's house.

Raza was forced to switch schools in the middle of the autumn term. There was only one teacher left in the upper forms and his dad, Mahmod, was worried about his future. For that reason, he started in the same class as his cousin Kadir. He woke up earlier than usual in the morning since he now had further to go to get to school. He cursed this long walk and wished that he lived in the same neighbourhood as Kadir but after his banishment his father had bought a farm in the village a little bit outside of town. It was easier for his fellow party members to gather there and stay clear of the regime.

Raza sat down between Kadir and Ahmad and when their stout teacher Hussain introduced him to the class he sat there nervously. He felt shy and bowed his head while fifty eyes stared at him. "We have a new pupil in the class," said Hussain in his raucous voice, "and his name is Raza. I don't want any trouble in my school."

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He turned towards Fatso and Blue Eye, but the teacher's words went in one of Fatso's ear and out the other. After morning break they jumped on Raza. "Stop, you yokel!" Fatso stared at him and laughed aloud. "He smells of a cow, the damned peasant!" "Look at his dirty hands," said Blue Eye. "And his long nails," said Fatso and shook his head. "Tomorrow you'll surely get quite a welcome from our crazy headmaster, he'll break every finger in his hand with his thick cane." The other children giggled and one of them asked Raza if this was the same type of school he had left behind in his lousy village. Everyone laughed. Raza listened and let the children say what they wanted, but he had enough when Fatso said: "Look, I've never seen such a long face, he's really ugly. We'll call him Raza long face." Raza felt offended and lunged at Fatso and butted him with his head. Fatso, completely surprised, fell over and Raza took the opportunity to kick him in the legs and stomach. All the kids watched but no one intervened before Kadir and Ahmad came up and separated them. "You won't get out of here a single day without a beating!," shouted Fatso. "Tomorrow you'll get more!" "If you don't shut up, I'll beat you up when school is over," Raza shouted back. Kadir put his hand on Raza's shoulder reassuringly. "Raza is my cousin and if anyone says anything to him it's as if he said it to me. I'll cut the throat of anyone giving my cousin a nickname." When all of them returned to the classroom, Ahmad throttled Fatso and shouted at him: "Leave Raza alone, I'll kill any bastard who says anything bad about him, do you understand, you fat bastard?"

From that day on they left Raza alone and many of them showed him respect and wanted to be his friend. But behind his back Fatso was venomous like a snake and maligned him and thought up childish things to say so that everyone laughed at him.

A few days later Raza came to visit in Kadir's neighbourhood and when he saw Shirin for the first time he blushed and his heart beat. He fell in love with Shirin at once and often spent time near her house. Fatso and Blue Eye were annoyed that a stranger hung around on their turf and they did everything they could to get this interloper out of their sacred

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neighbourhood. They thought of everything but they didn't realise that it was Shirin that was attracting him. If only they had known this they would have had a good opportunity of getting rid of him but Raza kept his love life to himself. In the morning when he got up he thought about how he could meet her while going to school. Sometimes he was a little late and missed her, sometimes he got there on time and could catch a glimpse of her and this felt like a red-letter day for him.

Time passed and the cousins became like brothers, they frequently slept over at each other's houses and felt at home with each other families. Raza always took presents with him, all kinds of nice little things like eggs, butter or fresh yoghurt. The cousins grew very close and Kadir admired Raza for being such a generous, open, straight-forward and simple person. One evening when Raza was sleeping over at Kadir's house they lay in bed and talked. "I have a secret," said Raza, "but promise that you won't tell anyone about it!" "I have one too, but you can't tell anyone about it either. You tell first!" Raza blushed and felt extremely agitated. "You know that I often come over here," he said in a low voice, "But do you know who it is that my heart got stuck on and who keeps getting me to come here? Shirin!" "You don't say," smiled Kadir. "You rascal, I thought you wanted to be friends with us, I didn't know you had your sights on something like that." "Now that I've told you my secret," Raza interrupted him, "Now you have to tell me yours as well!" "I'm in love with the neighbour's girl Susan, but promise not to tell anyone about it, I'm the only one who's in love, she doesn't know anything about it." They talked for a long time and both of them felt relieved that they had gotten their secrets off their chest before the fell asleep.

It was an early and sunny September morning and all was quiet except for the wild birds whose squawking could be heard in the sky. Fata went to Ahmad's room and tried to wake him up but he was so tired that he hardy heard what she said. "Wake up, Ahmad," she said. "Otman is waiting for you. You can't sleep all day. He's waiting for you!"

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"Leave me alone," he said in an angry tone, "I have off from school, today and I don't want to go to that crazy devil." Fata raised her voice and gave him a good shake. "Get up now and get yourself ready, breakfast is on the table." Ahmad woke up with his eyes wide open with anger and bitterness. "To hell with that damned tailor! I hate him! In the morning I'm forced to go to the teacher and after school it's the tailor's turn. How often am I supposed to get beaten?" "Sweet Ahmad," said his mother softly, "Get up now! We can't manage without your help. I don't want to have Karim Bey supporting us and we can't borrow money all the time. Karim Bey's ancestors were landowners. That's why he has the title "Bey" in his name generations later. Thanks to you we survive. Forget the tough talking you get from Otman and the teacher. You're learning a lot from them and you help your family. Otman is only trying to help you." "How do you know that he's so nice," said Ahmad angrily, "Do you see what he does with me during the day? I don't intend to go to him any more!" "What do you mean, son?" "I can start working in construction instead where I'll earn a lot more."

Ahmad was a well-built and light-skinned thirteen-year-old who was always tense and had nervous eyes. He was taciturn and did not say very much except with his closest friends Kadir and Raza. He avoided getting involved in conflicts but when he felt hemmed in he was quite livid. Ahmad got dressed, grudgingly and in silence. His eyes lit up from anger. He went out onto the street with a heavy gait and went straight to the tailor's. Ahmad greeted the tailor when he got there but the tailor hardly answered when he looked at the clock and shook his head, but without saying anything. Ahmad was frightened and thought that the tailor would start berating him again. Ahmad sat down at his usual place and sewed buttons on a jacket. He had forgotten to put his thimble on and so he cut his finger with the needle and couldn't help crying out. "What are you shouting for, you ass?" shouted Otman. "Watch out that the jacket doesn't get blood on it, you idiot! You cause more trouble than you're worth. I'll stop that out of your wages, you bastard, because you're so slow and useless!" Ahmad's eyes grew cross and he was filled with desperation. He had never understood why this tailor was always cross with him. "I'm not a bastard and why do you keep on beating me for no reason?" Otman lunged at Ahmad. It wasn't possible to run out, but Ahmad nonetheless tried to get out of his way. But Otman got there before him and hit Ahmad in the face

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with his clenched fists. Blood ran out of his nose. Otman wrestled with Ahmad on the floor and kicked him in the stomach. Ahmad took the blows and the kicking without uttering a word. As usual, the beating was not over before neighbouring storeowners had to break it up. "Leave him alone, you've practically killed him! Poor fatherless kids that end up with such a godless person like you!" "Ahmad sat in one corner, beside himself with anger and humiliation. His gaze caught the scissors lying on the floor alongside him. In an instant he had picked it up , jumped up at the tailor and, standing behind him, stuck the scissors into his back. Ahmad pulled out the scissors, threw it on the floor and ran out of the store and the town in tears. Ahmad went straight to Raza's family who lived in a little village just outside of town. They had a large farm with cows, sheep and horses. When Ahmad entered the house and saw Mahmod, he felt quite relieved. Mahmod rushed forward and embraced Ahmad when he saw his swollen face. Ahmad kissed Mahmod's hands and pressed himself against the older man's chest. "What's happened to you, son? You look terrible!" Ahmad's clothes were dusty and full of blood, his face was covered with tears. For Mahmod, Ahmad was like a son. He had been a close friend of his father who had been murdered many years before. Mahmod asked in a friendly voice and with sadness in his eyes: "What happened? Why are you so full of blood?" "I tried to murder the tailor!" "What do you mean, son?" Mahmod called out to his wife Halima that she should run up the water in the bathroom and get a bandage. "I knew this would happen in the end. For four years he's been beating me for no reason. Today, I got so enraged at him that I lost control of myself. Thanks to the fact that so many people came to separate us I could run away." "Get an extra bed for Ahmad," Mahmod shouted at Halima, "He can stay here with us and feel safe with people who care about him and don't stand for injustice!" "He called me a bastard and when I contradicted him he lunged at me like a madman and pulled me down on the floor and started to beat me. He was completely out of his mind! My blood was boiling. I caught a glimpse of the scissors lying on the floor. I stabbed him in the back with it and then I blacked out." "Otman, that heathen, he'll stop at nothing! To beat up a fatherless boy like that!" Halima could hardly hold back her tears as she bandaged Ahmad's wound. Ahmad gently lifted up his head and looked at Mahmod with an intense stare. "He got what he deserves, he should suffer like I did."

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Mahmod listened depressed to the boy in front of him and saw a harshness in Ahmad's eyes that he had never seen before. Mahmod was a socialist and hated all forms of injustice. He had served time in prison and in exile and had now been back in the village for two months. Mahmod disliked adults that mistreated children and he was out of his mind with rage when he heard that something like this had happened. He had rescued the neighbours' kids from getting beaten on numerous occasions. Now he sat completely quiet at Ahmad's side and said in a gentle voice: "Don't be afraid, that idiot will have to answer to me. You can stay here as long as you want." "Hurry up and go to town, Raza, and tell mama Fata that Ahmad is safe."

Within a few hours news of what had happened at the tailor's spread and the whole neighbourhood was talking about it. The boys were proud of Ahmad and spoke highly of him. Every time they spoke with each other about what had happened they added a little extra spice to the story. "We'll rename him," said Kadir happily. From this day on, Ahmad will be called "The Brave." Fatso wandered around and seemed to be a little bit jealous of Ahmad. "What's so unusual about this, to stick a scissors into someone that has turned his back on you. Is that what you call brave? No, that's cowardly. Anyone with any bravery would have stabbed the scissors into his chest and not into his back." Fatso looked around him and suddenly began to laugh. "Shouldn't we rename him Ahmad the backscratcher? The tailor said that he would have killed him if he hadn't known that he would be risking a prison sentence. Ahmad is an idiot. That's not the way to behave to an adult." Kadir got angry and spat. He jumped on Fatso and held him down. A serious fight broke out between them with Kadir getting a helping hand from Little Brother. Some adults that had been passing by finally got between them and Fatso got up. With his face dirty from the dust and the sand he turned to Kadir and said: "You'll get a beating like this every day, you coward!" He hurried home as fast as his fat legs could carry him. "You, you bastard, can never hold your trap," Kadir shouted back, "You're always asking for it!"

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It wasn't long before Fatso came out again and all the boys were friends again. "Maybe Ahmad will end up in prison," said Big Head. "What do you mean prison?" said Blue Eye, he's gone up to the mountains. He may already be in the liberated areas and have become a Peshmerga, the youngest one from our section to fight for us Kurds getting our rights back." "You know," said Big Eye, "That crazy tailor was so frightened he pissed in his trousers!" "He knows he behaved damned stupid to Ahmad," said Blue Eye, "and now he's interested in reconciliation and has sent people to Ahmad's mother Fata but she threw them all out and said she didn't want to hear about that crazy tailor." "You're lying, Blue Eye, you're lying us straight in the face," said Fatso. "How do you know that? We've been together the whole day and haven't heard anything like that." Kadir threw an angry glance around him and Fatso took a chance and shouted: "Would you like another round?" "Come and get another beating!" The Widow and her friends came out onto the street. The Widow became so enraged when she heard what had happened that her whole body shook in rage. She had never liked Fata and now took the opportunity to say bad things about her. She frequently used to reproach Fata for the injustice that her husband was murdered. "God doesn't accept Fata but he accepted her husband!" Several boys began to fight and the Widow became even more enraged. She shouted at the boys: "Silence, you people, otherwise I'll give each of you devils a hearty licking." Fatso laughed out loud and shouted at the Widow that he was waiting for her. The Widow stood up and ran at Fatso, picking up a stone and throwing it at him, but she hit Blue Eye instead. He cried out in pain and ran home. Fatso imitated the Widow and shouted in a loud voice: "Come if you can, I'm waiting for you!" The boys laughed out loud when he went up to her with a limping gait and his hands behind his back. The kids cheered Fatso on and, exhilarated by this, he began to limp even more and make even more exaggerated gestures. The Widow flew into an even greater rage and, beside herself, shook her fists and swore: "Very well, Fatso, I swear to God that if I get a hold of you I'll show you the Almighty in heaven, I'll break every bone in your body!" "Do it if you can," said Fatso and sneered at her.

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The Widow threw an angry glance at Kadir and got a hold of him and shook him hard. Kadir tried to wrest himself free from her and shouted at her that he hadn't done anything. "Everything's your fault, everything that happens in this damned neighbourhood is your fault. Don't you think that I know that you're the one behind all of this and that you are the one instigating that fatty. Confess, you devil, I know you!" The Widow, now beside herself, shouted: "I know you better than your mother does and I'll tell your father that you're the neighbourhood hooligan. May God punish you!" The Widow shook her head and pushed Kadir aside while saying that she wished him dead with all her heart. Kadir got up and ran away with an uncomfortable and cold feeling inside.

When things had calmed down on the street, the neighbouring woman Komri took the opportunity to say something friendly to the Widow: "Calm down, those boys are like the devil himself, if it isn't Kadir then it's one of the others." "That's true," said the Widow with a hiss. "Today's young people have no respect for anybody. They should show their respect for older people, that is the only thing of any importance and those boys don't even know what respect is." "No, they don't. Do you know what has happened to Otman the tailor? Ahmad tried to murder the tailor by stabbing him in the back with a knife and he almost died of his injuries." "It wasn't a knife, it was a scissors," said Shama. The Widow quickly interrupted her: "What the hell if it was a knife or a scissors. Thats not something you do to adults, the poor man, almost killed. And he'd never done anyone any harm. The tailor is a God-fearing man who has never missed a prayer and who always fasts during Ramadan. He is a man of peace. And he always tried to help that ungracious Fata. And that's the thanks he got!" The Widow was silent for a short while. She looked about her but none of the other women objected to her outburst so she continued: "I've never heard a bad word said about him. If all men were like he is then we'd have heaven on earth." She raised her voice and said in a raucous tone:

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"People like Ahmad should be locked up, they are completely crazy and dangerous, one can't feel safe when they're running loose, not after what's happened. What a world we live in!" Judging by the expressions on their faces, it did not quite seem as if the other women agreed with her but none of them dared open their mouth and say anything against her. The Widow turned to Shama and said: "Shama, you who know about everything, why don't you say something? Where is that bastard hiding?" "Who?" asked Shama. "Ahmad, Fata's damned bastard of a son, obviously!" "I don't know. Why should I know that? It is said that he ran straight away to the mountains, to the liberated zone and the rumour is that he may have become the youngest Peshmerga they've ever had." The Widow had not expected this answer. She was scared to death of anything even vaguely connected with the Peshmergas or the militia. She soon turned her thoughts to something else. If Ahmad became a Peshmerga she would not like to have him as her enemy, so she hastened to add: "Well, yes, we'll have to wait and see what happens. Time will tell what will become of that young man," she said, changing the subject. Omar quickly passed the women on his way to Karim Bey's house. For some reason, the Widow was quite fond of him. He was the only person that the Widow liked and who was not the target of her ire. He was always friendly to her. Most people thought this was due to his being the only one who could understand the Widow's rough language and who could handle her wrath. The Widow got up and Omar greeted her in a friendly manner: "How are you?" "Fine, thank you," answered the Widow. "Where are you headed for, Omar?" "I'm headed for Karim Bey's house. Don't you know what has happened?" "Yes, I do know, the poor little boy. Say hello to Fata and Karim Bey from me!" Omar went his way and the other women looked very quizzical, but nobody said anything.

Omar came to Karim Bey's house and the latter stood up and came up to Omar. They shook hands and sat down on the floor. At the same moment Fata showed up. She was so unsettled and worried that she could hardly speak properly. "Have you seen Ahmad," Karim Bey asked. "How is he?"

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Fata was crying disconsolately and you could read the pain in her eyes. After a while she calmed down a little and said: "I am feeling down. I think of him every second and I feel a pain that I've never experienced before. My son will be permanently damaged by what has happened. Otman has inflicted much too much pain on me and my son. He put a knife in my soul forever. Why has he always been so nasty to my son? We must do something!" She said nothing more and Omar tried to console her but Fata beat her breast and broke down in tears again: "I'll kill that devil, I hope that Otman survives so that I can kill him! Ahmad's whole body is covered with black-and-blue marks from all the abuse Otman has subjected him to. That idiot has been abusing him for years. Believe me, Bey. I knew nothing about it, believe me! I won't send a son of mine to somebody like that ever again, not for all the money in the world. What happened is my fault. I blame myself for not having listened to you! You told me that I shouldn't let him go work for Otman but I was so proud and didn't want to become a burden on you. I thought he could help out with Otman and learn himself a trade. But believe me, I didn't know anything! Ahmad is at home with Mahmod and he was so indignant. Mahmod has promised me he'll go into town and beat that idiot Otman. He said that Ahmad had to stay hidden with him until everything had calmed down and just in case the idiot files a complaint. Now I have to hurry off, I came back to pick up clean clothes!"

Fata had reached the age of thirty and been a widow since she lost her husband in a clan feud. She had lived with Karim Bey for many years as his housekeeper and he had treated her like his daughter. Without his help it would have been impossible for Fata to support her son whom Karim Bey looked upon as his own grandchild.

Karim Bey listened indignantly and became increasingly angry the more he heard. After a while he said to Omar: "Come with me and we'll go to Otman so I can strangle that jerk! Ahmad was like a son for me and you, Fata, were like a daughter. The devil will have to answer to me. How is he, by the way?" "Not so serious," answered Omar, "he wasn't even hospitalised." Omar could see how angry Karim Bey was becoming and that he was close to losing control of himself. Omar tried to calm him down. "We shouldn't make things worse than what they are. First of all, we have to see to it that that idiot doesn't file a complaint against Ahmad and then we'll have to see what transpires."

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They hastily left, almost on the run, and made for the tailor's shop. He wasn't there. Omar suggested that they go to his house but Karim Bey refused and said: "I'd rather amputate my leg than set my foot in the house of a man like Otman!" They turned to go back home again but just at that moment Otman called out to Karim Bey and they stopped. He came up to them and said: "Bey, you see what Ahmad did to me." His voice was almost on the verge of tears. "He practically killed me. And I who tried to bring him up and help him. I wanted to teach him a trade. I don't know what got into me when I hit him but his silence and stubbornness drive me crazy. I only meant well. The little bit of a beating I gave him wasn't even a fraction of the beatings I took when I was a tailor's apprentice, but what's done is done." He went silent and Karim Bey listened to him in disgust. "I don't intend to file a complaint against him if you leave me alone and I won't take him back because next time he'll kill me outright." Karim Bey answered that Ahmad would never want to go back to him. "Where is he? I heard that he was going to become a Peshmerga," said Otman. "I'm scared. I have a family and children, I beg you, Bey." He held out his hand, but Bey shook his head and said: "I don't shake hands with child beaters! Come, Omar, let's go!" They turned and left. On the way they met Fata who was carrying a basket with clothing. "Stop, Fata," said Omar, " I'll get my car so that we can drive together to the village to visit Ahmad."

The next day Halima awakened first and said her morning prayers and a little while later Mahmod got up from bed and put the radio on as he normally did. After prayers, Halima went out into the kitchen and made breakfast. The family sat down on the floor around a white plastic tablecloth and began to eat breakfast. Fata had slept over with them. She wanted to be with her son. A car drove up to the yard and Mahmod called out: "Quick, hide Ahmad! Run out through the back. The police are coming! Don't worry Fata! It's only for his own safety." There was a hard knock at the door and Mahmod hurried to open it. The police entered and Fata threw herself at their feet, all in tears, and repeatedly shouted: "Leave my son alone, he's innocent, it was the godless tailor's fault." One of the policemen pushed her aside and said:

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"What are you talking about," he wondered, surprised. "Take her away, she's completely hysterical!" The police chief turned to Mahmod, showed a piece of paper and said: "We have a search warrant and you're under arrest!" "What's the accusation this time?" asked Mahmod in a sad tone of voice. "The same as last time, insurrection against the government and hostile socialist views." The police chief turned to the others in the room and said: "I'm only doing my job and carrying out an order." Mahmod responded: "Yes, I know. I'm not surprised, neither is my wife. We had a feeling you would be coming. I have waited for you for some time. All of my friends have already been arrested and have occupied the best places in prison since I've been delayed." Fata sat taciturnly and regretted her behaviour. She dried her tears and heaved a sigh of relief that it wasn't Ahmad they were after. Fata helped Halima pack clothes for Mahmod. The police searched the house quite thoroughly, but were all friendly. One of the policemen got handcuffs from the car to put on Mahmod. Raza tried to stop the police and cried. "He doesn't need to have any handcuffs on him," said the police chief. "There's no big danger, son, he'll be coming home again soon!" Halima sat in silence without moving, she didn't have the strength to get up. Finally she went up to Mahmod and hugged him and said: "I will pray for you!" "We have to go now," said the police chief. Mahmod's gaze was tender and sad. He got into the car, turned around and looked at his family. The car drove off and Raza ran after it and cried out: "Papa, papa!"

The family gathered in the kitchen and sat there in silence. Ahmad was happy and relieved inside that the police had not come looking for him. It felt like quite a triumph. He stayed behind a few days until everything had quieted down and then moved back home. All of the neighbourhood children greeted him like a big hero and never again did he go back to the tailor. After a week he started as an apprentice with the building contractor, a pleasant and God-fearing man. The best came later. Ahmad's position among his childhood friends advanced several notches. He felt proud of what he had done.

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It was evening: the sun was directly behind the mountains of Saho and flooded the light blue sky in its beautiful glow. Kadir stood silently and watched the glimmering sky for a while and then went inside. As on every other evening, Narmin, Little Brother, Kadir and Sirwan gathered around Brahem and waited eagerly for him to tell a story. Little Brother combed papa's hair and said in a voice filled with eagerness: "Please papa, tell us a story that we haven't heard you tell before!" "No," said Kadir, "I want to hear the rest of yesterday's story." Narmin thought that what Brahem had told them the night before had been fun. "You are the nicest papa in the whole world, tell us the rest, I've been waiting for your story all day!" "It's been a hard day at the office," said Brahem and hugged his children, just as Amina called out: "Open the door, Narmin, can't you hear someone's knocking, or are you deaf?" Narmin wrinkled her brow and reluctantly opened the door on his uncle Alan who quickly came in. Narmin was glad to see him. He hugged Narmin but the glow in the child's eye disappeared when Alan, as was his habit, turned to Sirwan and politely asked him to get the pack of cards for a round. As quick as the eye could move, a table and several chairs were produced and the men sat down to play cards. Amina and Narmin were in the kitchen and when Narmin turned the radio on it played a few Kurdish songs that were not popular with Brahem. "Turn the damned radio off, I can sing better than he can," shouted Brahem. Kadir and Little Brother sat quietly and calmly and played dominos but as all the other times as well it was not long before they started to squabble and their shouting and bawling disturbed the adults' card game. "You cheat like hell, you never win if you don't cheat!" "No I don't, you're the one who cheats!" "No, it's you that never plays fair!" "You're just a poor loser." Kadir slapped Little Brother and Little Brother quickly jumped on him and they were soon in the middle of a fight. Papa Brahem went into a rage: "What the hell are you doing, you bastards, don't you see that I have a visitor? Stop immediately!" Kadir blamed his brother, but Brahem interrupted him.

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"I don't give a shit who's right or wrong. You just be quiet and shut up. Give me the domino game, you've finished playing for this evening."

There was a knock on the door and Kadir went to open it. The woman next door, Shama, was standing in the hallway. She came in, hurriedly said hello and went to see Amina who was standing in the kitchen finishing washing up with Narmin. "It's been a long time since you visited us! I thought you had moved," said Amina a little sheepishly after they shook hands. Narmin drew up a chair and Shama patted her cheeks and said: "Oh, you've really gotten big, you'll soon be an adult! What class are you in now?" "The fourth." They sat down and the usual gossip got underway. "You know," Shama said, "that the Widow's son-in-law has run away form home so now the daughter and her kids live with the Widow. The Widow is appalled and says she won't give her daughter back unless he comes back and begs her for forgiveness on his bare knees. She has repeatedly said that she doesn't want such a bastard of a man as her son-in-law anymore, the world is full of better men than that bloke is." "And what does the daughter say?" "What is she supposed to say? It's the Widow who decides." "I thought he seemed nice." "Who can live with the Widow's daughter? Like mother, like daughter! We change the subject, we don't talk anymore about that cantankerous old bag! Do you know that the butcher's daughter has turned down having her parents arrange for someone to court her? There's talk that she and your son Sirwan have been together in secret. I don't know if it's true but people gossip and can't keep their traps shut." Amina thought of mentioning that it might just be Shama herself who was spreading such rumours but she decided to keep her thoughts to herself. Instead she asked what the butcher had been saying. "What is he supposed to say, the idiot? It's his wife, Assa Nose-Length that makes his decisions for him." "What are you doing out there in the kitchen? We've waited long to get some tea. When will we be served?" Amina answered that she was coming. When she had served the men, she sat down again in the kitchen to talk with Shama. Her daughter Narmin sat their in silence and listened to the women's gossip.

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"Do you know what I've seen in the cloth shop?" said Shama, "Some material that I would like to have for a new dress." They were interrupted by the family's youngest child who came into the kitchen crying and said that Kadir had taken his marbles away. Amina consoled him and ultimately got him off to bed. Shama looked at the clock and said: "Goodness! Is it that late? I must go home now." Amina put the light out in the kitchen and went out into the yard. She stood alone and looked up at the sky and wondered about this evening's conversation with Shama. The men were through playing konkan, a popular card game in the region, and it was Brahem who had been the big loser. Amina went to sit with Brahem in the living room. She sat alongside him and they spoke with each other in a low voice and drank tea. Both of them had a serious and worried look about them. Brahem got up and put out the lamp in the room and then went to bed. Everything was silent in the house except for the breathing of those sleeping mixed with the low humming of the fridge and the freezer.

All of them slept through until dawn on their mattresses, laid out on the floor. The sun began to rise on the horizon. Father Brahem was the first to get up although he had been the last to go to bed. He went out to the bathroom and washed. Then he took out his prayer rug for morning prayers. He opened the window and heard the muezzin announcing the first prayer of the day. Little Brother woke up and went out into the kitchen. He ate quickly and then crept into Kadir's room where he put on Kadir's new jacket and snuck out on his way to school. By an hour later the rest of the family had woke up and there was hustle and bustle around the breakfast table. There were so many of them in the family that they had to queue up for the toilet and the bathroom. Then they all gathered sitting on the floor around a plastic tablecloth and ate their breakfast, something that frequently ended with arguments between the younger siblings over who had taken the choicest pieces. Someone always felt cheated. Kadir woke up and slowly looked around. His gaze stopped at the empty clothes hanger and his moan could be heard throughout the entire house. "My jacket has been taken, that devil swiped it from me." With tears welling up in his eyes, he looked reproachfully at his mother. "Don't you know what goes on in your own home. That ill-bred jerk has taken my jacket and gone to school, he can always do what he wants!" Amina patted him on the shoulders as if to console him. "That doesn't matter. He's younger than you, you can forgive him!" "But I'm not forgiving him! It's your fault, mama, that he took my jacket. Why didn't you buy him a jacket at the same time that you bought me one?"

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"We can't afford it. Stop crying now, what's happened has happened and can't be changed. Wash your face and come and eat, your breakfast is waiting for you." "The hell with breakfast, I want my jacket," said Kadir defiantly. "I'll teach that devil a lesson he'll never forget." Sirwan saw his chance to tease Kadir: "Do you think you can hit Little Brother? Watch out for him," he maliciously sneered. "Don't mess with him! I'll tell papa all about it!" Kadir reluctantly sat down but couldnt eat anything. He quickly got up and went off to school almost on the run. The only thing he could think of was Little Brother and how he would find him and give him a good talking to.

Before Kadir managed to get to his classroom he saw Little Brother sitting in the dusty schoolyard. He flew into a rage and tried to jump on him but Little Brother got away and Kadir ran after him. "Hold him!" Little Brother ran towards Fatso who caught a hold of him. Kadir came up and the two brothers had it out with their fists while the other kids stood around and watched. It looked like it was becoming a real fight but Ahmad showed up and intervened. "Idiots, you're standing here without stopping it." Fatso had a gleam in his eye while at the same time being somewhat irritated at Ahmad who had spoiled the show for him. The two brothers shouted and gaped at each other, each of them held back by those around him. "Idiot! Devil! How often have I told you that you can't touch my things!" "I don't give a shit about what you say! I do as I please and this jacket fits me!" Kadir tried to wrench himself out of Ahmad's grip. "I'll tear you to bits!" Little Brother laughed. "How many have you torn to bits in your time, you chicken? Don't come any nearer or you'll get more of a licking.! Why should you have everything and not me? I'm tired of always having to inherit your clothing. I only want to borrow this golden jacket to see how it fits me. I'm not afraid of you, you little shit!" Little Brother realised that sooner or later he would have to give the jacket back so he took it off and threw it at Kadir and sneered. "Here you are! It's all yours, you fashion monger! Take your shit before I change my mind!" Little Brother turned on his heels and went to his classroom.

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Kadir picked up the jacket and shook the dust off it before going inside with Ahmad for their first class. Kadir was still upset and mumbled: "It's the same every damn morning. Little Brother will soon be giving me ulcers. He always wakes up early and puts my clothes on without listening to anyone. I don't know what I'll do with him. God only knows that I would like to see him dead." "But he's still your brother." "He messes around with me and I can do without a brother like that."

It was shortly before ten in the morning and the Widow rushed out with her eyes ablaze. Something was going on. The Widow was on the warpath and a fight was in the air. Everyone realised that she was planning to deal with someone. The Widow had a dark shawl and a light dress on, something that hardly suited someone her age. She marched forward and spoke in a loud and raucous voice. With a curious gaze, the other women stood outside their doors and waited in delight for what was to come. The women greeted her, but the Widow had her eyes fixed on the ground, refusing to answer them but heading straight for Amina's house. She banged on the door and shouted. Amina hurriedly opened the door. When she saw the Widow she was frightened and pale. The Widow looked more dead than alive. In a soft voice that was barely audible, Amina whispered: "Please do come in." The Widow interrupted her as fast as lightning. "Don't think this is a courtesy call! I am furious at you and your boys! What do you think you are? I don't give a shit about your money and your putting on airs of wealth! I'll never again set my foot in your damned house!" She drew her breath and then went on in the same loud and angry voice: "How much longer do you intend to let those two wolves loose? Those bastards rule the roost on the streets and ruin everything for the other kids!" She was shaking all over of rage and was red in the face. "Is it a crime that we and you are neighbours? It must be since you won't leave us alone. I'll tell you, we're poor but we're honest people and we have a conscience! Last week Kadir smashed the school's windows and yesterday he ruined my fence. Who else would have done it if not your ill-bred son! He has his finger in all the devilry that goes on on our street. May God take him! Who is it that builds doghouses for unclean dogs if not your son? Who sends the little kids to get leftovers for these beasts? Yes, it's all your son, the neighbourhood hooligan! He and Fatso. It'll lead honest people to move away. If

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you can't take care of your own children, why do you produce them? You think you're so much better than us, but you can't even bring up children!" The Widow had gotten out of breath and the veins in her temples swelled up alarmingly. "If you can't bring him up then I will. I swear to God that I'll give him such a beating that he won't even recognise himself. That is, if I don't strangle him with my own two hands!" Amina listened with alarm to the Widow's explosive ploy. She felt scared and didn't know what to say. She prepared to answer but the Widow interrupted her immediately before she could get a word out. "I haven't come here to beg you, rather I'm demanding something from you and I swear that if you don't take care of your boys, and in particular if you don't fix my fence, then I promise to send the police for you!" Amina felt crushed and humiliated by this fulminating crazy woman. With bleary eyes and a horse voice she stammered mildly: "I don't understand what your talking about. Kadir and Little Brother are on a visit to Baghdad. They left the day before yesterday in the morning and it couldn't possibly be one of them that broke your fence." "What are you saying, Amina?" said the Widow with feigned friendliness. Don't you believe what I'm telling you? This is the work of your son, whether hes in Baghdad or in paradise, it's his evil thoughts that are always present here on our miserable street! I'll put my hand on the Koran a thousand times over. It's your son that planned all this, the little devil!" The Widow felt uncomfortable for a moment by the thought that she may have gone a little too far in her rage. How could she have failed to notice that the boys were away? Amina saw a glimpse of doubt in the Widow's face and tried to be friendly by inviting her in for tea and freshly baked bread. But the Widow's gaze was hard and avoided her. "No, I have no time to lose, I have to get a hold of the guilty party today and not tomorrow." She left without saying a word. On her way she passed by the other women who were standing and waiting for her in front of their houses. "What are you gaping at, you devils, haven't you seen me before?" she said and walked on at a quick pace. Amina remained standing in her doorway, unable to move. For a while she thought she might faint and she suddenly felt very dirty. It wasn't long before loud crying was heard from Fatso's house and everyone now knew that it was his turn to get a beating.

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Fatso stood tied to a post. His mother, Naffe, was beating him with a rough cane. After each whack he cried out aloud for help. His shouting was so heart-rending that anyone would have been moved to tears. "Please stop, mama dear! I'll kiss your hands, your feet, just please stop hitting me!" His mother kept hitting him till the cane broke off. The Widow, who had been standing there watching went up and got a hold of Fatso's ear with one of her hands and pulled his hair with the other one. "Confess, you devil! It was you who ruined my fence! Confess, or I'll poke your eyes out." Fatso was shrieking from pain. "Don't hit me! Please, be nice and stop! Yes, I was the one who did it!" His mother hit him with the broken-off cane. "I'll beat you to death if you don't stop causing trouble like this. Who was with you?" Fatso couldn't take it any longer. "I swear on the Koran that it was Blue Eye who did it." Omar heard Fatso's shrieking from his yard and ran up to Naffe and took the cane away from her. "Stop it, for God's sake. Do you intend to kill him? He'll be black-and-blue all over his body." Naffe pushed him away and shouted: "Leave me alone, Omar! This boy will be the death of me, I have to bring him up!" Omar gave her a dirty look before he grabbed Fatso and put his arm around him. Fatso was all out of breath and crying uncontrollably: "I swear on the Koran that it was not me and that I don't know who's responsible!" The Widow spat on the ground. "Stop whining, you cry-baby! I'll never have any pity with you," she said triumphantly and left to go look for Blue Eye. After a while Fatso calmed down. His mother went up to him, hugged him and kissed him on the forehead. "It's for your own good you get caned, my son, I love you more than my own eyes, I want you to know that." Naffe felt a pang of guilty conscious. She went in and got a can of water and washed Fatso's blood-covered back and said:

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"Here are ten fils, go and buy some little sweets and for the holiday we'll buy a new football." Fatso said thank you and held out his hand to get the coin but he avoided looking into her eyes. That night when Fatso had gone to sleep his mother went up to his mattress where he was already sound asleep and put a blanket over him. When she saw his dark eyelashes cast their shadow on his pale cheek she was once again filled with remorse and unease that depressed her.

10

It was the month of September but Halabja was still very warm. The farmers were impatiently waiting for rain but there was no sign in the sky that any rain was on the way. There was a clear-blue sky day after day. The boys were not opposed to warm weather and were only too glad that it continued. They were on their way home from school and ran to little Osman's shop. Osman was a well-liked, short little middle-aged man who took life lightly. He could never say no to the boys when they came into his shop. It was always just as easy for kids to fool him and they loved him for it. Osman's little light eyes gleamed like pearls in his light-skinned face. He indulged in friendly talk with all of the kids and consoled them when they needed it. Osman was generally in a good mood. He always wore a cap and a shawl wound around his head and was dressed in a jacket with the traditional baggy sharwal trousers that Kurds wear. Fatso gave Osman a small coin and bought several juicy fresh walnuts. Blue Eye bought a bag of sweets and simultaneously took the opportunity to swipe a few caramels from a jar. Kadir bought homemade ice cream. While Osman was busy getting the ice cream ready, Kadir put a fistful of fresh sweets in his mouth. Osman looked at the boys and called out: "You'll ruin me, you little rascals! What did you take this time?" "Nothing," said Fatso happily, "I only took two caramels." Osman shook his head and patted them amicably. "God in the heavens is looking out for you. He knows all and sees all. Don't cheat me, God will punish you otherwise!" The boys just laughed. "We haven't cheated you, Uncle Osman." "You certainly have, you hooligans," he said with a broad smile and put a few extra caramels into each of their bags.

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The street was full of kids. Blue Eye had a ball with him and the kids started to play football. Their yelling and shouting disturbed the women who had gathered around the old Widow's house. The Widow shook her fist: "I swear on the Koran that if that ball goes into my yard then I'll tear it apart! You can play, but see to it that it doesn't go into my yard for if it does you'll never see it again." The kids did not take the Widow's threat very seriously. "Yes, of course," they answered and then got themselves embroiled in the game's excitement. Kadir's team was playing Blue Eye's team. Fatso scored a goal but Blue Eye swore that the ball had gone too high for it to be counted as a goal. "No," shouted Fatso, "That was a real goal, you cheater, you poor loser." The kids gathered and were close to starting a fight when Kadir called out that the game had to be played to the end. "Should we play football or should we bullshit?" "We should play football, but you're not fair," said Fatso. "That bastard Blue Eye lies like the devil." Kadir patted him on the shoulder and asked him to calm down. "You will certainly score a few more goals. We can start the game again." Raza took a free kick and Fatso headed it. The ball flew high above the goal zone and landed straight in the Widow's yard. "Now we've had it," Blue Eye cried out, "The old bag will rip it apart." The kids gathered around Fatso and called out rhythmically: "Fatso go get the ball, Fatso go get the ball, you were the last to have it!" Fatso felt constrained to go and get it. He approached the Widow's house with doddering steps since he knew she wouldn't tolerate him. She always twisted one of his ears when he passed by her. Reluctantly he knocked on the Widow's door. She opened it, her face looking like a thundercloud. She shouted so loud that Fatso got the message: "Get out of here, you ugly monster!" Fatso pleaded with her: "May God bless you! May God forgive all of your sins! Be nice, give us the ball back! Just this once! I'll kiss your hands and your feet, may God grant you good health." The Widow wrinkled her forehead and slapped him so hard he cried out from the pain. "Get out of here, I said, are you deaf, you bastard? Are you begging for another beating? I warned you a hundred times but you people don't listen. You can just blame yourselves, you damned bastards, you'll get no ball. Leave me and my yard alone, you stupid asses!"

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Fatso understood that neither praying nor begging would get him anywhere and instead he went on the counter-offensive, ran off and shouted: "You damned old bag, may God burn you up in hell! And may you never go to paradise! I hope that God soon takes you!" The Widow ran after Fatso who ran even faster and the kids cheered him on. The Widow gave up and threw a few pebbles after him. "Listen to me, Fatso, I'll show you who I am, you'll pay for your lack of respect for older people!" The Widow was out of breath and had trouble breathing. She put her hands on her chest and shouted in an affected way: "My heart!" She fell over and pretended to have fainted. The other women gathered around her to help her get back home. Shama laid a wet rag on the Widow's forehead. The Widow looked up and asked where she was. "You're at home." The Widow got up and brushed herself off, mumbled something inaudible and went into her own house. Soon the neighbourhood returned to normal. Fatso was cheered as a hero by the kids for having dared to be insolent to the Widow. They were all glad about what had happened and told each other how much they wished that wet blanket the Widow dead. Kadir patted Fatso on the shoulder and consoled him: "We'll help you collect money and buy a new ball."

Blue Eye was in tears over his lost ball and he turned to Kadir and said: "We have to take revenge on her, she won't get away with this unpunished." A gleam returned to Kadir's eyes when he heard the word "revenge." "Come, Fatso, and you too Blue Eye, we'll put that cow in her rightful place!" They walked to Kanyaskan, a section of the city. Fatso looked enthusiastic. "What should we do? She has to be taught a lesson she never forgets!" "I'll think of something," said Kadir and turned to Fatso and whispered in his ear. The three boys leaned towards each other, excited by the seriousness of this moment. They promised that this would remain a secret among them. Fatso felt relieved. He was satisfied with the plan and said: "I promise on my God's word that she won't go unpunished!" He made a frown and hissed through his teeth. "Do you need any help? I mean, can you handle it yourself?" Kadir asked in a tone of some doubt when he saw how elated Fatso was.

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"This isn't my first time," said Fatso and gave Blue Eye a punch. When it gets dark it'll go bang at the witch's house. The boys split up with the triumphant feeling that justice was about to be done.

Raza searched for Kadir and asked for him everywhere. When he finally got his eyes on him, he called out: "Where have you been? I've been looking for you all day. Kadir came forward with a provocative smile on his face: "You're not looking for me, you're looking for Shirin," he said annoyed. "I'm not In a good mood today, the Widow spoiled our game and I wish her dead. May God take her!" "What has she done this time?" "We'll have no peace as long as she lives here in our neighbourhood," said Kadir. "She's a real witch!" They walked for a while without saying anything and Raza unconsciously steered a course for Shirin's house. His heart beat with joy and he hoped he'd catch a quick glimpse of her. He felt giddy but at the same time quite a little ambivalent and was not quite listening to what Kadir was saying. "Listen, Raza," Kadir said, "There's no point to this in the end. Have you a plan about how you intend to tell her you love her?" "What do you mean," Raza blushed heavily. "I know that you heart beats for Shirin, you rascal. Have you prepared any love letters? You who are so good at writing?" Raza wanted to change the subject. "Let's talk about your girlfriend neighbour instead! Do you intend to send her a love letter or not?" "I don't know," said Kadir. "It is so difficult, I don't dare do it. I live off hope. Imagine if I write and get rejected then I'll be the talk of the whole neighbourhood and will have to contend with people like Fatso and be everyone's laughing stock. I am not sure if she likes me," he sighed in disappointment, "She doesn't give me any signs. That is my destiny. She may be interested in someone else. When she passes me by she lowers her head and hurries past. It seems as if she doesn't notice me at all, it's as if I didn't exist." "You shouldn't think so little of yourself," said Raza encouragingly. "I think you have a chance with her if you write her a letter. That might be what she's waiting for. Don't be so chicken and wait, someone else might get there before you. I can help you write a letter that will open up the way to her heart."

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Raza put his arm around him. "Tonight we'll write the damned letter together." Kadir looked at his friend and said that he in turn was sure that Shirin felt something for Raza. "How do you know?" said Raza, full of expectations. "I know that Shirin likes you and I swear by my mother's milk that she looked at you yesterday morning when we went to school. Looks like that always mean love. Make your move before somebody else gets there first!" "Do you think that someone like Shirin would go for a farmer's boy like me? Her brothers will be enraged at me." "How will anybody find out about this?" Kadir wondered. Omar was in love with Nadia since they were ten years old. But not a single soul knew about it until they got married. People have to keep their love a secret. I actually want to help you and I know a reliable girl who can pass the letter on to her." "What kind of a girl? Are you pulling my leg?" "No, I'm not. My sister Narmin can take the letter ands give it to her." "Do you really think so?," said Raza, delighted and stopped where he was. "Tell me, Kadir, where are we headed for?" "We're going to visit Ahmad. He might not be at home, he always goes straight to the building contractor after school." "But it's almost nightfall. He must be home by now." Kadir knocked on the door just as Ahmad was coming home. He welcomed his friends and asked them to step in. They sat down. Kadir whispered in Ahmad's ear when he saw Fata leave the room: "Come with us tonight! I promise you there'll be some fun. Fatso and Blue Eye will be tackling the Widow." "I can't come along," Ahmad answered, "I'm bushed after having carried bricks all afternoon. But the pay is good, I shouldn't complain!" "Blame yourself, you're missing something fabulous!" Raza and Kadir got up and said goodbye to Ahmad. They appeared to be quite full of expectations about what was going to take place. On the way home Kadir was filled with contradictory feelings over what he should do about his love. He tried to convince himself that he wasn't scared. "If I want to have her, I have to act. Help me, Raza, with the writing part!"

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11

They got back home at seven o'clock at night and mother Amina was in the process of serving dinner together with Narmin. When they saw Raza they immediately took out another plate. After dinner, the kids all gathered around their father, Brahem, hoping to hear a story. With a gleam in his eye, he looked at his kids, eager to listen. "Let's leave it for this once, " he said as he often did. "I'll tell a story for a while." Brahem was a good storyteller and his stories dealt with everything from romanticism to adventure. The kids often thought of his stories during the daytime and looked forward to evening when they would be able to hear the sequel. Brahem lay down leisurely on a mat with lots of cushions as a support. Little Brother patiently combed Brahem's hair and Kadir filed his papa's plantar warts with a kitchen knife. Brahem told his story and the children listened enthralled. Amina was not interested in hearing the story, she had heard it any number of times before and she sang hymns aloud to herself in the kitchen. She believed that if she sang hymns this would protect the family from all misfortunes.

Fatso who was best at shooting with a slingshot crept towards the Widow's house in the dark. He aimed at the window and from inside, the Widow's cries de profundis could be heard. Within no time she was banging heartily on the door of the house where Kadir lived. "Open, you devils! They're nothing but bandits who live on this street!" No one on the street could miss hearing her. The neighbours closest by rushed out to see who would be the target of the Widow's ire this time. "Kadir is responsible, he's the one behind all the trouble and squabbling in our neighbourhood. Open the door, or I'll break it down!" Narmin opened the door and the Widow rushed in. "Kadir has destroyed my house!" She was so upset that her entire body was shaking and her message was incoherent. "Do I have to move away from here? Can't one have any peace and quiet in one's own home? Kadir is the one who smashed all my windows!" Father Brahem tried to calm her down.

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"Take it easy, you have to calm down, the entire neighbourhood is listening to us. It wasn't my son who did it. You are accusing an innocent person. He has been sitting here next to me all evening, you are accusing the wrong person." Kadir smiled maliciously and enjoyed observing the Widow's torment. He was even happier thinking about the next moment, how Blue Eye would pull in the string and drive the old witch even crazier. The Widow quieted down and Amina took the opportunity to ask her to sit down but the Widow interrupted her and said, full of indignation: "I know your son, he's a wolf in sheep's clothing. He looks nice but he's behind all the trouble that goes on on this miserable street. If he isn't the one who smashed all my windows, he's at least the one who planned this deed. I won't leave this place unless he tells me immediately who did this. If he doesn't do that, then I will renounce my acquaintanceship with you." "You are accusing the wrong person. I can't accept it that anyone accuses my son of doing anything that he didn't do." The Widow was shaking with rage. "I will never again set my foot in your house! The friendship between us is now over." Beside herself with rage, she slammed the door and left. Father Brahem shouted after her that she should go to hell. "I don't want to have your foot in my house either! It'll be nice doing without you and your damned whining and complaining." He turned to his family. "What an old hag, she ruined our nice evening, I've a good mind to strangle her!" The quiet story-telling hour had now been ruined and the kids well understood that they wouldn't get to hear anymore that evening. But still they tried: "Papa, please, it's so exciting, we want to hear how the story ends." Brahem shook his head and said very seriously: "I am so upset, angry and sad that I can't continue. That woman won't leave us alone. Go to your rooms, there's no more story-telling tonight. I have no desire or energy to tell any more stories. That'll have to wait until tomorrow instead.

Kadir went to his room and Raza followed him. Kadir laughed in triumph. He whispered in Raza's ear: "The witch will get more tonight, it'll soon be Blue Eye's turn. Then she'll get a taste of her own medicine."

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Amina was depressed and sat down alongside Brahem. She was afraid of the Widow's wrath. "Now we are enemy number one for the Widow. She'll take revenge on us and our children." Brahem became angry and said he didn't care about the mad woman and her threats. "But I'm afraid of her," Amina went on. "She won't leave us alone until she's taken her revenge. She a past-master at all kinds of mischief." "The only thing she's a past-master in," said Brahem, "is gossiping and backbiting other people and meddling in their conflicts." He gave his wife a hug. "We have no reason to be afraid of her, let her scream and shout as much as she wants."

It was dark outside and the only light visible came from street lamps. Blue Eye crept up to the Widow's house with a string and he tied up her doorknocker. He then cautiously crept back and hid in some bushes on the other side of the street and pulled the string a few times so that there was loud knocking on the Widow's door. From inside the house the Widow's gruff voice could be heard. "Take it easy, I'm coming!" When she opened the door and couldn't see anyone she became angry and shouted: "You bastards, leave us alone! Can't one even have peace and quiet in one's own home?" She shook her fists and slammed the door again. It took a half-hour before Blue Eye pulled the string a few more times and quickly beat it. The Widow got up and ran to the door but there was nobody outside this time either. "I'm going crazy! God take you, you bastards! They have no respect for their neighbours and for old people. You'll have to deal with me, you bastards! Just wait!"

At home where Kadir lived the two friends were sitting and trying to help each other write a love letter to Kadir's big love. They heard the Widow's groaning and Kadir's face lit up of malicious enjoyment and he was in high spirits. "The hell with the letter for now, Raza! Listen to the Widow's suffering and hear how she boils!" Amina came into the room and was surprised to find that the boys were still up.

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"We're doing our homework," said Raza, somewhat too enthusiastically. Raza helped Kadir to word the love letter. It constantly got better. Many sheets were torn up before they were satisfied and could relax.

12

The next day started with the morning's usual rush. Kadir and Raza gulped down their breakfast and left in the hope of new signals from the realm of love. They waited at the meeting place for the neighbour's girl, Susan, to show up. Kadir's heart beat mightily and his gaze was subdued with fright when she finally showed up. The girl quickly passed by them without casting a glance in their direction. "Life is over," thought Kadir who just wanted to disappear. He ran away. Raza ran to catch up with him. "Wait for me, it'll soon be my turn!" The two friends walked on to Shirin's house. The door opened and when Shirin came out she looked at Raza with gracious eyes and blushed at the same time. Raza's triumph knew no bounds and he stared expectantly at her and her long hair and her big dark-brown eyes. His heart was jubilant.

After the first class, Fatso stayed behind in the classroom and looked for a tennis ball he had loaned to someone. He opened several desktops, including Kadir's. He picked up Kadir's writing pad and quickly drew a dog on it and signed Kadir's name underneath. When he went to put the writing pad back a letter fell on the floor. Fatso bent over and quickly picked it up. He couldn't believe his eyes. "A love letter! Look at this bastard how he drew a heart and arrows." With an amused look on his face Fatso called all his classmates together and sat on top of Kadir's school desk. "My beloved," he began with a raucous laugh. "This is a letter to a girl. I think we have a suitor among us. Mister Kadir is in love!" "Can we see it," the others called out and clapped their hands. Fatso showed the letter for everyone that was inside in the classroom then he hid it under his shirt. When Kadir came into the classroom after the break he sensed that something was amiss since everyone was grinning at him. Fatso came up to him. "I've taken your love letter and hidden it. Give me the girl's name and I'll send it to her." Kadir became red in the face.

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"That wasn't my letter, some bastard put it in my desk." Fatso ran out to the schoolyard laughing and Kadir followed him. "I'll tear you into a thousand pieces, I'll give you a lesson you'll never forget!" Kadir shouted with a voice that was choking: "Don't let Fatso get away!" Kadir got a hold of Fatso and a fight broke out. They fought until the class monitor intervened and wrote down Kadir's name. Kadir shouted at Fatso: "I'm not through with you yet, you devil. I'll tell the Widow the truth that you were the one who smashed her windows and she'll tear your eyes out!" Fatso was at no loss. "What's done is done, but if you tell her then I'll tell her you were the one who planned the whole thing." Kadir now regretted having brought up the Widow. Other kids that Kadir had teased in the past now came on the run, seeing their chance for revenge. "Here we have the groom! Are you in love, lover Kadir who writes such nice things to girls! What's the name of the luscious bride? Super-lover, can't you write such beautiful letters to the girls of our dreams as well?" Everyone laughed and Kadir didn't know what he should do. He turned to Fatso once again. "This is your fault! I'll kill you!" Kadir braced himself, his eyes all fierce, and grabbed Fatso but just at that moment Ahmad came between them and held him tight. "Calm down, Kadir!" But Kadir was so enraged that he didn't know what he was doing. He shouted out: "I'll kill you, you fat bastard!" Fatso just sneered. "How many have you killed thus far?" he asked, counting on his fingers. "Ten or more? Kill me too, but I swear that before I die I'll make a copy of your love letter and read it to all the kids in the neighbourhood!" Ahmad came up to Fatso and shook him with the strength of someone who carried loads of bricks every day. He said in a loud voice: "Quiet, before I beat you to a pulp!" He then turned to the other kids: "If any other bastard teases Kadir, I'll punch him in the jaw. Kadir is my friend and no one's allowed to tease him!"

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Hussain, the teacher, came into the classroom. He was a tall and well-built man whose hair was always cut short and, unlike all the other teachers, he had no moustache. With deliberate steps and a serious look on his face he stared at the pupils. The class monitor shouted and everyone stood up. In a loud voice, the teacher ordered everyone to sit down and turned to the monitor, saying: "What's the story now, did someone misbehave today?" "Yes, teacher!" "And who's the lucky one?" sneered the teacher. "It was Kadir, teacher, he beat Fatso up." "And who started it?" "It was Kadir who lunged at Fatso, he was completely wild." Ahmad butted into the discussion. "No, it wasn't like that at all. It was Fatso who started it, he teased Kadir." The teacher interrupted Ahmad. "Shut up! Nobody asked you anything! You should know how to behave in class! Understand, you idiot! You put up your hand before you open your mouth!" Hussain turned and went up to Kadir and pulled his ear. "No little devil is going to fight in my school. Come forward, you too Fatso!" Fatso started to cry and muttered: "It wasn't my fault, he hit me!" "Stop whining, you bastard! You're not a woman! Put out your hands! You two get five strokes on each hand and then you have to ask each other for forgiveness." Kadir turned yellow in the face but seemed satisfied with the punishment. He felt relieved that the punishment was so mild. Hussain slapped each hand five times with the pointer and so hard that the hands began to swell up and black-and-blue marks appeared. "Sit down," he shouted, "The next time you start fighting you get three times as many strokes! I don't want to hear about any more fights inside the school grounds." He turned to the class monitor. "What were they fighting about?" "Fatso found a love letter in Kadir's desk." "It didn't belong to me," said Kadir with lightning speed, "It belonged to someone else who put it in my desk." The teacher guffawed. "We have a lover in our class!" The pupils all laughed along with him and from that day on Kadir came to be called "Kadir the lover."

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"Quiet down now," the teacher interrupted them and hit his desk with the pointer. "Now let's get serious!" Carefully and punctiliously he took out test answers out of his folder and put them on the table. He gazed at the pupils for a long time with evil in his eyes, then he shouted and everyone in the classroom fell silent. "I have a lot of idiots in my class, I'm teaching idiots! How many times have I said that you have to do your homework! You are real bozos with nothing in your heads. As stupid as asses and asses never learn anything!" The teacher went up and down the classroom while all the pupils sat there in silence, looking scared. "I'll show you who's the teacher in this class!" He called out names from his class list. Several pupils, including Ahmad, had to go up to the blackboard. "Stand on one damned leg, I'll break the legs of anyone who doesn't do as I say." After quite a while he called out: "Ahmad, come up to my desk and put your hands out!" He hit each hand ten times with the pointer. Not a sound could be heard from Ahmad. He wasn't like the other kids who cried out and asked for mercy. Ahmad stood there with his back straight and took the blows. He didn't even lower his gaze but stared directly into the teacher's eyes. The teacher felt uncomfortable in front of this fearless boy.

Hussain the teacher had unlimited power in the school. A little misinterpretation or missed homework set him off and he beat his pupils with an intensity that bordered on obsession. In the very next period they had a lecture on religion and the teacher told them that Islam was the youngest religion and that Mohammed was its Prophet. He continued his story on how Islam came about and spoke of the Koran and what had happened since Mohammed died. Then he started to ask questions about the day's lesson. Those pupils who had already been beaten knew that they wouldn't get any more this time since they had already had their quota. The tears had dried and they sat there in deathly silence. Hussain was always hard in his gaze and crude in his language, he stared at the class and spoke to himself: "Now we'll see who hasn't done his homework, now we'll see if you were listening during the lecture or not. Did you understand what I was talking about?" "Yes, teacher."

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"Let's see," he whispered as he went down the rows of desks. What were the four caliphs called who came after Mohammed the Prophet?" Many of them put up their hands and the teacher's gaze fell on Kadir who answered self-assuredly and listed the caliphs. "Which of them was married to the Prophet's daughter?" Raza was among those that put up their hands this time. Hussain looked at him and a gleam lit up in his eye, his experienced teacher's gaze could immediately see if someone looked absent-minded or unsure. He looked at Raza with an amused smile. Raza remained silent and blushed. He realised that he had been discovered and knew what awaited him. He stuttered: "I've have it on the tip of my tongue but can't quite come up with it." "Are you fooling?" shouted Hussain with a hard and caustic expression on his face. "Come up here, you bastard! I'll teach you how to show respect! Here I'm standing and teaching and you have your thoughts elsewhere! Where have you been, you yokel? Were you here in the class? Stand up!" Hussain shouted forcefully, his saliva spraying out. "You'll get double the punishment." He then hit Raza's hands twenty times with the pointer. The only thing audible in the classroom was the whizzing sound of the pointer slapping and Raza's heart-rending cries.

13

It was a late September afternoon and the weather was still very hot. The women had begun to assembly in front of the Widow's house. The first to come were Shama and Komri. Most of the women were housewives. The men worked and supported their families, the women stayed at home and took care of the children. More often than not, several generations lived in the same house. The most usual thing was that children took care of their elderly parents and the old people looked after their grandchildren. It was not always an easy life for the women. Nasty mothers-in-law made life miserable for their daughters-in-law and meddled in everything. They ran the show at home and squabbled about every minor detail.

Neighbours meant a lot to each other, but this was for better or worse. Some of them were siblings and others were deadly enemies, but when things were serious they always came through for each other and were like one big family.

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There was always a lot of noise and commotion in the neighbourhood, it was never quiet. If it wasn't squabbling or discontent or envy between the adults then it was fighting or trouble-making among the kids. One thing which kept everybody together was when there were the religious holidays. Then people visited each other, shook hands and asked forgiveness for what had gone on since the previous holiday. But usually people lived in peace with their neighbours and considered each other members of the family. When a neighbour knocked on the door he or she was always welcome and nobody was ever refused admittance if he or she needed assistance, and this regardless of the time of day. If fights or trouble broke out at home at a neighbour's, people were entitled to go into their house and calm the family down. The women gathered in the afternoons in front of their house and almost always had a child on their lap. They sat and gossiped and talked of everything between heaven and earth. They did not listen too carefully to each other since most of what they aired had been heard many times before. In the middle of all the squabbling and discord in the neighbourhood, they gave each other a helping hand.

With the passage of time a hierarchy had come about among the women, some of them ruling the roost while the others just sat there and nodded their heads and, when required, they provided a good laugh. The two young rivals Shama and Komri were women who had their fingers in almost everything that went on. They were known for their venomous tongues and mostly gossiped about everybody else, even persons close to them. Everyone knew that some day one of them would be the neighbourhood's ruler. The old Widow was almost always dressed in dark colours, often black or dark-brown. She had a wrinkled face and looked horrible when she was cross. The young women were dressed in light colours. If a fifty-year-old were to wear a red dress it would be a matter to be discussed and laughed over for a long time. It was the old Widow's mood that determined what the others gossiped about. Children, both boys and girls, normally stayed around the women in order to learn about life. Kadir's mother Amina was not liked by the Widow who spoke ill of her, both openly and behind her back. Amina paid no attention to what she said. "I'll leave her to God, may He judge her, not me."

Amina came from a religious family. How she had met Brahem was a long story that she proudly liked to tell her children and even the fact that her family was of a better class than Brahem's and that they didn't want to give their consent to the marriage. "They didn't want to lose their daughter to a godless man like papa Brahem."

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But one evening when dusk fell, Brahem's relatives shot at Amina's house with the intention of scaring them. One week later the parents were forced to go along with the marriage.

The reason why the Widow was so angry with Amina was that she never sat outside with the neighbourhood women. Nor did Kadir like the idea that his mother was not like the other women and did not sit with them on the street. He felt lonely when all the other kids, except for him, sat together with their mothers. It would have felt secure to have his mother nearby when the old Widow meddled in the boys' conflicts. But Amina was a deeply religious woman and her faith prevented her from sitting with the other women and gossiping out on the street. "It's a sin to lie or gossip about people who are not present and God can punish them for doing that," said Amina in a gentle and friendly voice. "God has no rewards for those who speak ill of others. The women are only envious of us. Let them say what they want, it doesn't bother me. They're not going to run our lives, it's the Lord up above who does that." Kadir listened but was not so convinced that she was right. He missed her out there among the women. He interrupted Amina: But, mama," said Kadir pensively, "Are all women godless? All women?" "No, my son," she said carefully, "Only God judges people, it is not other people that decide if someone is godless or not, you can read about this in the holy Koran. Everyone bears his own sins, I don't want to have any more sins to bear on my shoulders." Kadir did not understand what his mother meant but he was disappointed with her and angry at himself every time he heard that the Widow had spoken ill of his mother. The Widow's loud raucous voice blared out like a loudspeaker and Kadir listened but could not bring himself to defend Amina."

"Do you see, ladies, our dear neighbour Amina hardly even says hello to us when she passes by, as if we had the plague. She doesn't want to sit with us or even come near to us. A strange woman who doesn't want to associate with us, does she think she's of a better kind than we are? The hell with her!" The Widow spat but when Kadir's aunt Halima showed up she stopped and the women looked at each other in silence. The Widow stood up and looked at Halima. "Come and sit beside me!" The Widow made a sign to one of the women. "Move over and make room for Halima!" The Widow turned to Halima.

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"We heard what happened, that all socialists have been seized. That was terrible that a man like Mahmod should be imprisoned. When did it happen?" "Some time ago." "Haven't you heard anything from him since?" the Widow sounded exaggeratedly concerned. "No, no news. I only know that he is imprisoned in the Nograsalman prison." Halima sighed and the old Widow looked surprised when she heard the name of the prison: Nograsablan?" "Not Nograsablan, it called Nograsalman." The women laughed. "It's in the middle of the desert and no one there can escape or receive visits." "Why is he imprisoned there?" asked one of the women. "Because he's a socialist," said the Widow. "It that supposed to be a crime?" The old Widow took the opportunity to get through to Amina. "A socialist is the finest thing there is, not a nationalist like your sister's husband Brahem." The Widow looked the other way as she said that and chanced to see Blue Eye hitting one of the little boys." She shouted out: "Stop right away, Blue Eye, otherwise I'll come and give you a licking!" Blue Eye looked askance at the Widow and ran home. The Widow had forgotten what she wanted to say and tried to remember what they had been talking about. "Thank your God that your husband is alive Halima! God is merciful and will let him come home again alive," said one of the women. "I don't know, I've long wanted to talk about Amina," said the Widow suddenly in a sisterly tone of voice. Actually I'm worried about her. We were just sitting and talking about her, she hardly greets us when she passes by. What did we actually do to her? Can you talk sense to her?" It took a while before Halima left the women with an uncomfortable feeling. She walked towards her sister's house but couldn't help but hear the Widow's raucous voice before she turned the corner: "I don't understand men who leave their family and get involved in politics. Think of that poor woman, her stupid husband is imprisoned, he's a socialist. May God take those that don't take care of their family. The world has changed, no one shows any respect, either for older people or for our traditions. So many bad things happen, I can hardly keep up with it."

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The women around the Widow sheepishly turned their heads and the Widow hastened to change the subject. "What a world we live in," she sighed deeply with in an affected tone of voice. "Before, when we got married it was for life. Now people get divorced right and left, sometimes after only a few years." "What do you mean," said Shama earnestly. "Long Green Eye and fat Narin are going to get divorced, even though they have a little baby." Komri said that she was not surprised since Green Eye was a real bastard who never assumed responsibility for anything. "He gambles his entire wages with poker and in addition he drinks alcohol!" "Really, you don't say, I didn't know that," said the Widow. "But she should blame herself, both she and her family." "She deserves it," said Komri, "for having chosen Green Eye rather than Alan, she picked the wrong man." "But it's courageous of her to get divorced before it's too late." "They say he beat her too!" "Right, it's been hell for her with him." "I don't think so," said the Widow, interrupting and unhappy with the turn the conversation had taken. "As I see it, and I know Narin's family, they took revenge on him. As soon as they found out how their daughter was doing, they took her home again and threatened Green Eye that they would beat him to death if he came near Narin." "That idiot deserves it," hissed one of the women who normally sat there in silence. "They claim that her maraj is now high." Maraj is the settlement the man has to pay when he divorces his wife. "Then she'll have a hard time getting remarried." "She's sure to find someone. Anyone is better than that idiot!" "Poor child, to have such a worthless father," said the Widow in a sad voice. "It's always a shame for the children." The Widow saw that Shama was not listening to what the women were talking about and said: "What's with you? Why do you sit there and turn your head? I know you better than anyone else, tell us what's on your mind." "I've heard that Rashid has gotten loads of new textiles in. I intend to go and shop there and my husband will have to pay for the whole thing." The Widow became cross and said in an angry voice:

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"You're never satisfied. How is he supposed to afford it? Does he print bank notes at home? Do you think you're married to an official? I pity him, a simple construction worker! Well, go and buy! I certainly can't afford any textiles from Rashid. I hate him and the way he bawled me out the last time when I bought clothing from him for having tried to haggle. The hell with Rashid, I'll never shop there again. "Yes," said the other women, "we can't afford to shop for any textiles at Rashid's." Shama became red in the face and dry in the mouth and mumbled: "Our husbands are obliged to support us. We can't go about in the same old rags year in and year out." The women cast angry glances at Shama. "My Lord, Shama," said the Widow, "What are you talking about? Show a little sense, if you have any in your little brain at all! You bought a dress last month. What do you think your husband earns? Do you think you're married to the president himself? How is he supposed to be able to afford Rashid's expensive textiles?" Shama kept quiet and was mortified at her own defeat. Her rival Komri was enjoying it. The young teacher Sharmin had finished work for the day. On her way home she passed by the women sitting out on the street and gossiping. Sharmin felt twenty reproachful eyes looking at the back of her neck when she passed by. She stumbled and was close to falling but was able to catch her footing. The Widow looked at the women. They understood that she would now make comments about Sharmin. "Nowadays there are no morals. Look at that whore! She has no respect for anything! She serves up her body to all the men and attracts their gazes. She doesn't wear either an abba (the black cape-shaped dress for woman covering the body from head to foot) or a veil. She must certainly do that because she wants the men to see the shape of her body and her pretty legs. To hell with such women who don't respect traditions! They are cheap whores destroying our children's future." Shama was looking for support from the Widow after her previous defeat: "Imagine, we send our daughters to her! Someone like that is teaching our children! What do you think she teaches them? How to go whoring like does herself?" "Didn't you see how she's made herself up?" said Komri. "So thick with colouring, just as thick as the way you paint the walls. I've never seen the likes of this! She looks like a monkey. She brings shame on the entire neighbourhood!" "No she isn't," said the Widow, "it's the school that's ruined morals. How does she dare make up like that and then openly show it? This arouses men's desires! I've never painted myself, not even the day when I got married to my good-for-nothing husband.

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But this is becoming all the more common, you see it with today's youth. No one fears God anymore or prays to him and in the mosque now all you see is old people." "My husband told me," said Shama, "that at the officials' club they drink liquor and play poker in the evenings, some of them even play every night in a row. Tall Green Eye is not the only one who gambles away his wages, there are many others doing it with him." "That's true," said the Widow, "we are close to the day of resurrection and the end of the world will soon be here. How can a real man accept his daughter or wife going out without putting an abba or a veil on? They want all the men to look at their asses and their soft bodies. I swear to my God that if my daughter came home one day with clothes like that on her I would strangle her with my bare hands!" "My husband," said Shama, "can't blink or look the other way when he meets Miss Sharmin, he only sighs when he sees her, as if he had missed out on something." The old Widow interrupted her: "Some day he may just make you wear clothing like that, it would fit you well, you with your lovely legs!" All the women had a good laugh and Shama could hardly do otherwise than join them. Komri seized the opportunity: "We are living in different times now. It's time for us older people to provide some room for young people." The old Widow was aghast and shouted out in a shrill voice: "Are you defending that slut or what did you mean actually?" There was a moment's silence before the Widow went on: "Thanks to our having such people like Miss Sharmin no girls want to help with the household anymore. The young people have an answer for everything and they think we're old-fashioned hags that hate everything that smacks of love. I recognise that kind!" The Widow drew a deep and somewhat artificial sigh: "If I had power in this country I would strangle all those who try to destroy our fine old traditions!"

The other women sat silently and listened to the Widow's diatribes but none of them dared object or question her views since they knew that she was a powerful woman who could ride roughshod over them. They might have wanted to ask her how it was that her hair was so black although all the other women at her age were grey-haired. The Widow always got irritated at all those who talked about someone's age and interrupted when this subject came up for discussion. If anyone asked her how old she was she always subtracted a few years from her age or gave some impudent response.

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For the time being all the women agreed with the Widow. Shama and Komri were the ones who most often confirmed her views or flattered her about her supposedly great wisdom, even though both of them hated her deep down. The Widow was constantly whining. She had had any number of diseases. If any of the other women said that they had a pain in their heart then the Widow would immediately say that she had one too, but one which was much worse. All of the town's doctors were tired of the Widow and her supposed health problems but none of them could ever find anything wrong with her despite endless examinations. Even they did not dare say what they really though of the Widow since they too had great respect for her,

14

The days went by and the neighbourhood gossip was very much the same. "Do you know what Hairless's mother had on yesterday!" "No," said one of the women with delight, "Tell us!" "Well, she wore a bright red dress! I thought that that old hag is not too far removed from the grave! Does she think she's a teenager? How can anyone put on something like that at her age?" "Imagine, that old hag has one foot in already!" "She comes from Iran, that explains it all," said the Widow. "She lost her mind," said one of the women, "when she found out that Hairless cheated on his wife. I heard how she shouted and prayed to God to take her back for the shame her son had brought on her." "Really!" said the Widow. "I constantly heard their fighting." The Widow turned around and discovered that Shama was yawning. With a raucous voice she shouted so that Shama jumped up: "What the hell were you doing last night?" Shama was glad to have attracted the older woman's attention and said: "My sister Nasrin has divorced her husband, fat Tala. He said Talaq (I divorce thee) three times in front of a group of neighbours. Tala drank a lot of alcohol and he had promised his wife that he would stop drinking. But in a few days he had started drinking again. He sat with his friends a whole week and drank liquor every day. When Nasrin found out about this she left him. The marriage has been dissolved amicably." "Haven't they been divorced once before? Wasn't it Nasrin that was married to another man that she divorced the next day and remarried fat Tala?" "Yes, she was," said Shama, "because religion let's you do that."

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Komri shook her head and said: "Only idiots do things like that. In this neighbourhood nobody cares if the man says Talaq three times. Nothing happens." The Widow interrupted Komri: "Yes, yes, they are different, some are more religious than others."

When the women heard the mosque's loudspeaker announcing noon prayers they rushed home to say their prayers but it wasn't long before they all gathered again. When the Widow came out, all of the women rose and waited until she had sat down. The Widow caught a glimpse of Halima and called out: "Come here, sister Halima, come and sit down!" "I don't have time, Raza is alone at home, I have to make dinner!" "Come and sit down, you must certainly have a moment!" Halima sat down and everyone welcomed her. She took the floor: "Do you know that my brother Alan has had a daughter?" "You don't say," said the Widow, "God watch over her, your brother is a pearl, there are few like him and his wife Merem is almost like a daughter to me. Oh how I like them. Tell us about the child!" "Alan and Merem have had a baby girl that is prettier than the moon. Her name will be Bery. I went to visit them yesterday and they kept watch over her all night. Alan wants us to keep watch over her for forty days!" "People normally keep watch over little baby boys, but nowadays you're obviously supposed to keep watch over girls as well," said Komri spitefully. "Poor Alan," she sighed, "what a wife he ended up with who can only produce daughters for him." "Alan was beaming with joy about the child," said Halima. "What explains this? I thought the days were over when people kept watch over newborn babies. How can anyone still believe the fairy tale that you have keep watch over children to prevent the goblins from stealing babies." The Widow cut Komri off and said in an indignant tone of voice: "What's the matter with you, Komri? Can't you keep your mouth shut? How can you question our traditions? No one has asked you for your opinion. I know that you don't like Merem but she is like a daughter to me. What are you talking about, a boy or a girl? The most important thing is that they had a healthy child! I myself bore ten children, eight boys and two girls. All children are a gift from God. It makes no difference if they are boys or girls. Tell me, Komri, "she said with pride in her voice, "Is there anything wrong with me? Don't you see that I'm a woman?" The Widow turned to Halima and asked:

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"Whom does she resemble the most?" "This is hard to say, but I think she looks more like Alan, she has his big brown eyes and fair skin." "I'll go there and congratulate them," said the Widow. "May God keep them! Alan and Merem are among the finest couples in town," she repeated several times. The women nodded in agreement. None of them dared contradict the Widow. The thought that, while she had indeed had many children, she also hated some of them and that none of the children dared to contradict her, she ruled over her children just as much as she ruled over the other women in the neighbourhood. Shama was gleaming with joy when the Widow put Komri in her place and she was glad to see the Widow shut her up and ride roughshod over her. Halima politely said to the Widow: "It was nice to see you, but now I have to say thank you and rush home." All of the woman stood up and bade her goodbye.

15

Sali was a chubby little boy in the neighbourhood who was always a loner. No one took much notice of him. As far back as he could remember, everyone had always called him the Son-of-a-Bitch and his brothers and sisters got no better treatment from the neighbourhood women. Sali was constantly afraid that something would happen to his mother Ama since he had heard the Widow say that Ama should be stoned to death, that she was the biggest shame in the neighbourhood and that some one like Ama was not entitled to live among decent women. Sali often sat a little ways off from the women and listened to their talk. When he tried to open his mouth a few times and state his opinion, he was slapped or pushed away. He was a permanent punching bag for Fatso and Blue Eye and they often beat him for no reason.

Ama was a tall well-built woman about thirty-five years old and still quite beautiful. She had soft facial features and big jet-black eyes. In her youth, Ama had been the prettiest girl in town and widely admired for her beauty and it was precisely her beauty that was the reason why the other women were jealous of her and constantly kept an eye on her. Ama had been married to Tofik, a real bastard who had treated her condescendingly. He had not assumed any responsibility for her and the family. When he got his wages he gambled them away by drinking and playing cards. Tofik often invited an entire gang of men home to play cards. Then he got completely taken up with his card playing and forgot that he actually had a family. Most people openly said that he loved gambling

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more than anything else in life. Ultimately Tofik had enormous gambling debts and abandoned his wife and his children. No one knew if he was dead or alive. Sali only had a few pictures of his father. Nasty tongues wagged that Tofik didn't look very much like Sali and that Tofik wasn't his father at all and that this was the real reason why he had left Ama.

Two years had passed since Tofik abandoned Ama and she was still staying in the city and nobody knew why. She had originally come from another city far away and there were constant rumours that Ama was planning to move back to her hometown, something that the Widow was happy to hear. Several men, the butcher and Hairless among them, had promised to marry Ama but they only took advantage of her. After a short while they said that they had changed their mind and left her again. In the end, Ama ran out of patience and simply left her door open for night-time visits from men who told her they didn't get as much as they wanted from their own wives, something that shocked the women. They didn't dare tell their husbands off and therefore they made a scapegoat out of Ama since they could trample on her. Ama had long borne considerable desperation inside her. She was totally isolated and completely alone. There were not many who spoke to her and more often than not most people turned their backs on her. Ama was disappointed with everyone: with her husband who abandoned her, with other men who broke their promises, with the women who treated her like a leper and turned their faces away when she passed. Ama felt even more despair when she saw how the women's disgust for her was applied to her children as well. Particularly little Sali who was strongly affected by it and had to endure many hard blows and much abuse. One day rumours were spread about Sali and the mathematics teacher, Fahmi. It was almost like the day of resurrection, everyone went about spreading it further and embroidered it with even more facts and half-truths. Worst of all of them was the Widow who gleefully waved her arms in the air and said: "Didn't I tell you? That Sali was looking to be screwed, he simply loiters around here since his mother is busy at home with different men. What has happened is his own fault. He went home to Fahmi the teacher. Sali wanted it himself. I've seen him at home with Fahmi many times!"

Raza felt sorry for Sali and he and Kadir often defended him but now everyone was so upset that they no longer dared express their opinions to the adults. "Sali was raped by the teacher," said Kadir. "That bastard said that he would give him some extra instruction. What instruction it was! I knew there was something shady about him!"

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Blue Eye laughed and said: "All the better, now the way is clear for the rest of us to go after him. I knew he was gay, the damned queer! He begged to get raped, the damned cock-eater!" "They say," said Raza, "that Sali couldn't walk afterwards. He could hardly stand on his legs, he had so much pain." "Serves him right," said Blue Eye. "Why didn't he watch out for his arsehole?" "When his mother filed a complaint against the teacher with the police none of them believed her. They intimidated her and got her to retract the complaint. They said she could be charged with false incrimination since there was no one who could testify to the truth of what she claimed. Who knows what happened when she tried to file a complaint? Maybe the police felt up her lovely body." "The complaint was torn up." "Fahmi denied that he had done anything."

From that day on Sali had entered the land of humiliation and misery and his life was never the same again. He never felt safe again, not even in school. All of his classmates distanced themselves from Sali and nobody wanted to sit next to him in the classroom. At every break he was chased by Fatso and Blue Eye. Every day he could be seen running away from his detractors. They caught up with him and tripped him up. They punched him in the face with their fists and kicked him in the back and the legs. Sali held his hands over his face to protect himself and one could hear him shrieking: "Please, leave me alone, please stop!" Kadir and Raza always intervened and stopped his tormentors when they saw these assaults but they were not around every time it happened. They were the only ones in the whole school who tried to defend Sali. The few times when Sali felt a little safe was when he visited nice little Osman's shop. Osman bravely defended him and pushed Fatso and Blue Eye aside when they came into the shop to fight with Sali. He asked them to leave Sali alone and to leave. Nor were they allowed to buy anything from him that day. Even cousin Omar tried to protect Sali from them. He grabbed them by the ear and growled at them to stop hitting Sali or they would have to answer to him. But this did not change Sali's situation.

16

A pecking order had come about among the neighbourhood boys and Sali was ranked lowest. He was called a fairy, a son-of-a-bitch and a bastard. The boys beat and kicked

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Sali every day and shouted spiteful things at him. He couldn't even open his mouth to defend himself when they called him a fairy and his mother a whore. Finally he was not capable of any resistance anymore, he simply cried and tried to shield his face from the blows. One early morning when Sali came out on the street and rushed off to school he caught Blue Eye's attention, the latter trying to catch up with him and calling to him to stop. Sali ran like the wind and rushed into the classroom. Blue Eye was out of breath and angry and threw himself at Sali, shouting: "Do you want to see my cock? Isn't my prick good enough? Is it that you only like big cocks? Why didn't you stop?" "Go and hang yourself, you bastard! People like you have no right to be alive, you who can't even watch out for your arsehole, homo bastard," sneered Fatso and jostled Sali. Nor was the classroom a very safe place for Sali. If he didn't know his lessons his teacher Hussain went completely crazy and growled so that the earth shook under Sali's feet: "You bring shame to the entire town, you bastard, he shouted and gave Sali a few resounding boxes on the ear." He repeatedly shouted out what a disgrace Sali was for the whole town and how he couldnt be educated. His classmates sat in silence and listened without doing anything. Sali avoided looking up, he felt only great despair and helplessness, cut off completely from his surroundings. Ultimately his teacher's outbursts became something that he got used to. They went in one ear and out the other. The other boys continued to shout things like: "Your mama has fucked with everybody. She's a rotten egg." "She has no morals and God only knows how many she's screwed in front of your papa's nose!" "Your father was a real pimp, don't you know? What is he doing nowadays? He abandoned you? Don't you know that you're a bastard?" "If Ama were my mother, she'd be dead by now!" "You have no right to live, homo bastard!" "How much did you get from the blacksmith for screwing with him?" "How many have gone to bed with you? Ten, twenty, a hundred? Who has the biggest cock, the teacher or the blacksmith?" When playing games, Sali was always left out and the cursing rained down on him.

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"Your mother should be stoned to death!" "Your brothers and sisters will become whores and queers!" Sali went with his head bowed and was often absent. He sealed himself off completely. He loved his mother, she was his only security but all he heard was: "Ama should be stoned to death, she has brought shame on the whole town!" That was what hurt him most to hear them humiliating his beloved mother. Ama's misfortunes had started the night when Hairless broke his promise to marry her. He had got what he wanted from her. Ama had thought that he meant what he said when he promised to marry her and that was why he was allowed to come to her. Instead he discarded her like a dirty rag and went around town bragging all over about his exploits. He didn't even shrink from telling his friends or any anyone else interested in hearing about the intimate details. All had a good laugh and were a little envious of him. Ama was attacked by the women as soon as she went out on the street. They threw stones at her and shouted "whore" as she passed by. Finally she didn't dare go out at all if the women were gathered sitting in front of the Widow's house. Ama often sat alone by herself and brooded over her life, not understanding why she had been struck by this destiny. She cried out aloud and lamented: "God, take my life! Hairless has destroyed my life. I'm taunted as soon as I show my face out on the street and I'm the subject of the whole town's gossip. Hairless deceived me but he's respected for being a man while I have to accept so much shit for being a woman. Everyone accuses me of being a whore and a slut. They have already condemned me without even knowing what really happened. They say I have no morals but they are blind when it comes to Hairless's morals, he who destroyed my life. I'm so sick and tired of their damned morals and of this damned town. I'll go crazy if I stay here in this disgusting prison. The people in this damned town have always trampled on the weak. I know they'll destroy me, stone me to death. They raped my child because I'm alone and have no one to defend me. Horrible bastards! When Hairless passes by the old bags stand up and respectfully greet him. What idiots, country yokels! I hope that God has them suffer the same bitter fate that struck me.!" She was in despair and stayed silent for a while before resuming her lamentation. Ama's cries flew through the sleeping town but no one heard her. She was dejected and bitter, her torment knew no bounds. She had been punished. Her heart bled, not only the shame but the punishment that the entire family had been subjected to. She did not want to go out and shop in the daytime but she was sometimes forced to do so. Ama walked looking down at the ground and was very much afraid, her hair was uncombed and blackand-blue marks could be seen on her face after yesterday's stone throwing. When she

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came up to the women she greeted them but they did not respond and pretended not to see her. The Widow spat on the ground behind her and showed her loathing. Tears welled up in Ama's eyes and she rushed past. Night after night Ama sat by the window without anyone coming to console her or care for her. If anyone else was crying the neighbours would immediately come to console the person crying. It was only Ama that everyone was heartless to. This hurt her and she felt lonelier than ever before. Ama bellowed out her pain but no one heard her, no one cared for her and she continued her lamentation: "What did I do to God? Why are they punishing me and my children like this? After all, I have to support myself and my family and I have no one to protect us. My Sali was raped by the teacher and everyone knows this. Nobody took my side or that of Sali but instead he became the neighbourhood's punching bag. God is my last resort! I have done nothing bad! Why have I been struck down like this by the evil of others? Not just myself but my innocent children as well. Tell me, where shall I go? I reported the perpetrator but he went free, after destroying my son's life. Everyone believed the perpetrator but not me or my innocent child. Sali who swore on the Koran that he had told the truth, that the teacher had lured him to come home with him. The teacher gave him one-hundred fils and then abused him." In her loneliness, Ama cried for a long time and in despair, her sorrows knew no end. Sali came home and Ama hastily dried her tears but Sali saw the traces of them in her face and he hugged her a long time, patted her on the cheek and said: "I am so fond of you, mother!" "We must leave here," said Ama, "We must move to another city where no one knows us, maybe to Baghdad where I have relatives. There is nothing to keep me here." Before Ama fell asleep she made a decision - she would sell her home and move to Baghdad.

17

The days passed and turned into weeks and months. The puppies grew and were now practically fully grown adults. The Widow came out. The wind was blowing so strong that she had trouble holding her abba in place over her body. She cursed the wind, as usual. She hurried off to the municipal administration office to file an application to have the dogs put down. Back home again in the kitchen the discussion was well underway:

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"Today I went to the municipal office and filed another complaint. I shouted at them that if they didn't put down the dogs I would go to those higher up. I shouted at those whimpish municipal officials that I was going crazy but they haven't listened to me so that we'll have to do something together, otherwise they'll just think that I'm the only one dissatisfied with the situation." "We unstintingly rely on you," said Shama cheerily. "What do you want us to do?" "A petition with lots of signatures. That should do it. Soon this place will be famous for spreading epidemics. We can't even move freely among all those dirty beasts. Shama, I think you should be in charge of collecting the signatures and then we'll all go to the municipal administration office and hand them over."

Brahem was so upset that he hardly even saw the ground he was walking on. He was off at a fast pace to the Widow's house where he banged on the door. The Widow opened and Brahem rushed in. He shouted in such a loud voice that the Widow took fright and almost fainted. "You, what do you have against us? Why do you speak so ill of us? Why do you spread lies about us? How long do we have to listen to you and your lies, you damned bitch! What do you gain from squabbling with all the neighbours? I heard with my own ears how you denigrated my family and my children, who do you think you are? I myself heard how you called out in a loud voice and spread lies about us out on the street." "There are no morals on this street," the Widow answered, "This place is just crawling with ill-bred children. Just look at your son Sirwan, isn't he seeing the carpenter's daughter on the sly? I've seen them together several times. The poor carpenter, he doesn't even know what his daughter is doing in secret with your son!" Brahem had stopped talking but he continued in an even louder voice when the Widow stopped to catch her breath before pouring out the rest. "When I asked Sirwan, he denied all of your dirty lies. You are an evil and nasty person who just wants to spread miserable rumours. Whenever you get wind of some malicious rumour about someone you deprive that someone of all his or her honour. You are a real bitch and a big lie-monger! I'm warning you! I'll cut off your damned tongue if I hear that you mention our names again!" Brahem turned and left the Widow's house without saying goodbye. The Widow stood still like a statue since she hadn't believed something like this could happen. The women who were sitting in front of her house as usual had heard everything Brahem shouted and all the names he called her! They were all far more delighted than they cared to show so they just sat silently by and enjoyed every word of

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it. They were as silent as the grave for a long while before the Widow collected herself again: "Did you see and hear what he said to me? He'll pay for this! I'll teach him a lesson he'll never forget!" The women all nodded in agreement without daring to look the Widow straight in the eye and soon the crowd dispersed for the purpose of reporting to other women what had occurred. The Widow took Brahem's outburst so hard that she was bedridden for several days and accused Brahem of being responsible, if anything should happen to her. The neighbouring women paraded in to her in shifts with food for every meal. The Widow was exhilarated from all this attention and told Shama and Komri that they were like daughters to her. "I'll never forget what you're doing for me, I've been moved to tears." Gradually the Widow got on her feet again and all gathered as usual in front of her house where they were inundated with her gossip and ill-tempered attacks on other people. The Widow had always been an ill-tempered person who had difficulty listening to other people. She quickly interrupted everybody and attacked faster than the eye could see if someone contradicted her. As a result, everyone yielded and tried to adapt to her moods.

18

Almost two weeks had passed and the dogs were still there. With their barking they did much to liven up the neighbourhood. They wagged their tails and yelped out loud if they got a hold of anything edible. Whenever fighting broke out among the dogs the Widow flew into a rage. "This has now got out of hand," said the Widow. "Damn this municipal administration. It's time to get tough," she shouted in a trembling voice and knocked on the doors of the neighbours to get their support. The Widow had decided that now, once and for all, the dogs had to go and she shouted in a raucous and nasty voice: "Every single day, more and more dogs are coming here from other neighbourhoods. We barely dare go out of the house because of these beasts. Soon we'll have to move ourselves. I won't stand for it any longer! This is intolerable. We must put a stop to it. I can't stand to live in a neighbourhood which is as deplorable as this!"

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Little Brother snuck off and in a bag he had hidden soft bread and bits of meat. He was off to the doghouse. Shera was his dog and he liked her so much that he occasionally dreamed of running across the fields with the dog. He always looked forward to being able to pet Shera and hold her in his lap. When Amina saw what her son was busy doing she ran to him and when he saw his mama coming he ran off but was stopped, suddenly, by Fatso. "Leave me alone, Fatso, I'll kill you," shouted Little Brother. But Fatso pinned him down until Amina got there. She grabbed him hard by the arm and thanked Fatso for being such a good boy. Amina twisted Little Brother's ears until he cried out and begged her not to hurt him. She dragged him home. "You disgrace me! Why can't you ever do what you're told? What have you got in your big head? How can we get a little reason into your thick skull?" Little Brother tried in vain to get loose from her grip. "Now listen, you little devil," said Amina, "You can't simply go out as if nothing had happened. You're dirty and you have to wash." She shoved him into the bathroom. "From now on I'm locking you in!" Amina wrinkled her brow and went out to the kitchen. She was still upset and complained bitterly about her sons. "You will all be my death! I ashamed of you and soon I won't dare go out. I must constantly hear how Kadir did this or Little Brother did that. Not a day goes by without the neighbours complaining about you. My own flesh and blood are so ill bred, you don't listen to anybody. What am I to do?" Amina's voice took on an increasingly threatening tone and she pointed her finger and said: "Lord God, we have a heathen in our own house! Don't you realise that we are Muslims and are not allowed to pet dogs, anyone petting dogs is unclean. We have to repeatedly wash in order to be clean again, preferably with sand, if we have touched a dog. I've told you this a hundred times. Leave the puppies alone! How many times have I told you that you're not even allowed to give a tiny bit of meat to those beasts? Have you no brains at all in your head?" Little Brother could not understand why he had to go and wash other than to appease his raging mother. "I feel sorry for them, mama, they'll die if we don't feed them. I like them so much. The dogs haven't bitten anyone or done anyone any harm. Karim Bey has a watchdog at home." "You'll do as I say, I don't care what others do," Amina said and now addressed Kadir as well, he having just come into the kitchen to hear what all the noise was about.

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"I'm warning the two of you, you won't go anywhere near those puppies again!" Amina drew a deep sigh and longed deeply for the day when the dogcatcher would come and rescue the neighbourhood kids from the dogs. "If we're lucky, Dog Killer will come as early as the end of this week." Kadir sat in silence feeling sorry for Little Brother. It was precisely the dogs that kept the two brothers together. Otherwise they were at each other's throats all day. When Little Brother heard the dogcatcher's name mentioned he stood up in the bathtub as if he had been bitten by a snake. Kadir too was scared of the thought of the dogcatcher, the man who killed dogs just for the fun of it. He was the person that Kadir was most afraid of in the whole world and who served as a bogeyman for all the kids. "But mama," said Kadir, "This is unjust! How can you shoot innocent puppies?" "The dog killer is a real murderer," Little Brother inserted as a supplement. "We should be thankful he's there, he's the one saving the neighbourhood from degeneracy."

A few days later the hour ultimately arrived that the women had been waiting for. After all the pressure and complaining on the part of the Widow and the neighbourhood women the dogcatcher arrived with his rifle. All of the smaller kids were snatched off to their houses and the dogcatcher took aim at the dogs very precisely and quickly shot one after another of them with a shot in the head. The Widow stood in her doorway. Her eyes gleamed with delight. The slaughter took less than five minutes and most of the dogs were gone forever. With one last shot the dogcatcher silenced a bitch that the first bullet had not quite finished off. "Well done," said the Widow. "May God preserve your hands, you are the angel of this neighbourhood!" She thanked the dogcatcher repeatedly and reiterated that their big problem had now finally been taken care of.

After school was out, Kadir and the other kids ran home. They were greeted by a disconcerting silence. The neighbourhood was quiet and Kadir immediately sensed that something horrible had happened. When Blue Eye and Little Brother came running towards him he understood that something had happened before they even got to say anything. "All of the dogs are dead, my Shera too," said Little Brother with tears in his eyes. "They're no longer there," said Blue Eye to Kadir and to all the kids who had suddenly gathered around him.

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"The last we saw of the dogs was when they were thrown up on a horse cart. The dogcatcher will take them out to a rubbish dump on the outskirts. There were pools of blood all over the ground." The kids' eyes were full of sadness and Little Brother began to cry when he thought of his puppy Shera. "Look," cried Little Brother, "Even the doghouse has been razed to the ground!" Kadir looked around him. He not only wished the Widow dead he also wished the entire neighbourhood could be razed to the ground. The dogs were gone and the Widow's wish had been fulfilled. Almost all of the kids were upset except Fatso. Some of them had a blank expression, others stared in front of them with an empty gaze and some looked sad. They grieved for their friends and couldn't understand why the latter had been murdered. The Widow looked at the kids with a severe and strict expression on her face. She enjoyed the silence on the street and drew a sigh of relief, stood up and came at a quick pace to where the kids were. "Now they're gone for good," said the Widow. "Get out of here you bastards before I twist your heads off!" She said that with triumph in her voice and her eyes gleamed with selfconfidence and the satisfaction that a victor feels when he has finally taken his revenge. The sight of the kids' sad expressions and Kadir's teary eyes made her unabashedly happy. The Widow could see that she had won a great victory and done more damage than she could have imagined. With a thinly disguised smile the Widow remained standing there and watched the kids go home, slowly and downheartedly. During the night Kadir dreamed about the dogs and how he left his bedroom and started off towards the doghouse and when he got there, there was nothing there but a big pool of blood

The next day it was as if nothing had ever happened. Kadir woke up and went to school as usual but inside himself he was boiling with rage and hatred and he had already decided to take revenge on the Widow in one way or another.

19

Months went by and it was now winter. People were busy getting wood and fuel for their homes. This particular winter was not like the previous one and one could tell that people seemed worried about something. The town was not like it usually was. In each neighbourhood there was a sentry on duty and a group of soldiers had been stationed

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outside the Widow's house. Most people had piled sandbags up in front of their house and covered over their windows.

The war had started again and a rumour was going about that Peshmergas were in the vicinity but most people did not believe this rumour. Others said that the Peshmergas were on their way to liberate the city. The population did not take the war too seriously. After dark had fallen one could occasionally hear shots being fired at the sentries. But towards dawn firing died down and people said it had been the Peshmergas that did the shooting and that they had fled up into the mountains. Nor did the kids understand the seriousness of the matter either. They were simply fascinated by all the various types of weapons they saw and felt it was exciting.

One rainy day in November was one that Kadir would never forget. Compact black clouds covered the sky and a dark day dawned. It was a Tuesday and Kadir was on his way home from school. When he was almost home he heard shooting. He instinctively threw himself down on the ground where it was wet and muddy. He lay there in silence and trembled with fear. On the street, people panicked and desperate pleas and calls for help were heard everywhere. One of the soldiers posted outside Kadir's house shot wildly around him and the house was hit by several shots, windows were smashed and glass splinters fell down. Ultimately the firing finally stopped and Kadir slowly got up. He was stiff all over his body and checked carefully to see that he had not been injured. He began to run home as fast as he could. His heart pounded like a sledgehammer and he rushed into the house. Brahem came to meet him, lifted him up and hugged him firmly and several times repeated: "Thank God you're uninjured!" Amina interruptedly rattled off her hymns in tears, obviously scared out of her wits. She looked around before bursting out: "Where is Sirwan? Where is my fine son?" Brahem became red in the face from suppressed anger which he didn't want to show his wife since Amina was already beside herself of anger and repeatedly said: "Good God help me, I feel it inside me that something has happened to him. My heart is about to burst, I have a feeling that something horrible has happened." For the first time in his life, Kadir saw his mother in despair. She who had otherwise always been a quiet and sensible being was now like a completely different person.

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"For God's sake," Brahem said, "Calm down, woman! We don't know if anything has happened to him but he is certainly unscathed. Why do you assume the worst in advance?" He grabbed her hand and tried to calm her down by saying: "Don't be nervous, he'll come home, I have a feeling." He hugged her tight but Amina continued her loud crying: "My house looks like a battleground," sobbed Amina, "How can I be calm? My son is missing and you tell me to be calm, are you out of your mind? How could I be calm, I feel ready to faint from fear." "Stop crying, please stop crying," Brahem said, "For God's sake, woman, stop! You're frightening me, you're making me nervous!" Suddenly the door opened and Sirwan came in. "What did I say? You didn't believe me when I said he was unscathed," Brahem called out. "Don't you see now that I was right?" When Amina saw Sirwan she rushed to wipe her tears dry and ran towards him and hugged him. The rest of the family likewise ran up to him and hugged him. Sirwan was very much surprised by all the commotion and wondered what had happened. He hadn't heard any shooting since he had been a little ways out from the town visiting a friend. Everyone opened their mouth at the same time and tried to explain what had happened. Sirwan looked around him and could see that almost all the window-panes were smashed and that the house was full of bullet holes. "We must do something," he said. "Tomorrow we'll buy sandbags and pile them up around the house," Brahem said. Amina cast an angry glance at her husband and said: "It's your fault that the house looks like this now! How many times have I told that hell can break loose at any time and that we have to protect ourselves, but you didn't listen to me. All of our neighbours have piled sandbags up outside their houses. But you only laughed at me when I said that I thought we should do the same. Now you can see with your own eyes what has happened! Try to laugh now! We were only a hair's breadth from being injured. Now you see that I was right!" Brahem was silent for a short while and at first did not want to comment on what his wife had said but then he said: "You are right, Amina, as soon as things quiet down again I'll take care of things and buy sandbags and do as you want."

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Several hours later everything returned to normal and the shops which had hastily rolled down their shutters now opened up again. Brahem stood outside of his house and surveyed the destruction. He turned to Amina and said: "Look, Amina, isn't that Raza coming in this direction?" Raza came on the run. He had trouble breathing when he first reached them. "Mama is so afraid. She asked me to run over here to hear if anything had happened." Raza was gasping and breathing heavily. "On the way here I saw a man who'd been murdered. I swear to God, it's true! I saw him with my own eyes." "Come in and sit down and calm down, Raza," said Brahem. "Get a glass of water for Raza," he shouted at Narmin. Brahem could see his cousin Omar out on the street. He went out to him and they shook hands. "Do you know who was murdered," asked Brahem. "He is said to be a Peshmerga," Omar answered. "Do you know who it is?" "No, no one knows who he is or where he comes from, but he's young, maybe twenty years old. People think he comes from the area around Suleimaniya. Before he died he shot the spy Nadim and stuffed a hundred fils in his mouth," he explained, alluding to the custom of stuffing money in the mouth of someone who has betrayed his people for money. "Is Nadim dead? May God forgive him, but what a relief to hear that! This has been the best news I've heard for some time!" Omar interrupted Brahem and said: "Unfortunately the Peshmerga himself was shot when a soldier saw him stuffing the bank notes into Nadim's mouth. His whole body was completely riddled."

The news of the Peshmerga's death shook up the entire neighbourhood and the people all vied with one another in relating this event. It wasn't long before the whole town knew what had happened and the Peshmerga's death became the talk of the day. He was praised for his valorous achievement while Nadim was only mourned by his own family. "Nadim was a spy and a spy deserves to die, isn't that so? He reported everything to the police, to hell with that idiot." "What a brave fellow, the Peshmerga! That he had the courage to come here in broad daylight and eliminate that monster Nadim!" "He had no feeling in his body!"

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"The Peshmerga isn't from the area around Halabja. God only knows where he comes from." "Now blood has been shed and the war has begun again." "We'll have to see what happens now." "What do they intend to do with the corpse?" "It's now lying outside the mosque." Almost all of the boys went to the mosque to look at the corpse lying on the lawn outside. Kadir too was curious and wanted to see it. He went there together with Raza, Ahmad and Fatso. This was the first time Kadir had seen a dead person. He felt sick to his stomach and wanted to run off but he stayed there, fearing he would otherwise be called a coward. The bloody body stirred up a degusted feeling inside him, while at the same time he felt sympathy for the dead man and wished he had magic powers to be able to blow life back into the body again. But, unfortunately, he had no such abilities. The man was dead and his body was riddled with bullets. Ahmad stared at the corpse and said: "Think if I was the one lying there bathed in my own blood. He must have been shot by over a thousand bullets. All I can see in his body are holes, the poor man." Raza looked at the corpse and a feeling of discomfort turned his stomach. He slowly turned away and moved away from the crowd that had gathered and went back to the village. Kadir felt sick afterwards and vomited several times when he got home. He did not dare tell anyone why he felt sick and that night he had nightmares about the man.

20

The morning after that Alan was lying in bed, ruminating on what he should do. He was scared after the previous day's events. He didn't want to subject his family to such a frightening experience a second time. A slight rain was tapping on the window-panes and it was still dark outside. He lit a lamp and got up. Within a short period of time the family had gathered around the breakfast table. Alan took the floor and said: "We must do something, we can't stay here any longer. I have begun to realise that evil has got the upper hand here. It is getting more violent for every day that passes. If we stay put anything can happen to us. During the last seven months it has got worse every day. Day in and day out, more and more young people are joining the Peshmergas. Yesterday I was close to getting shot. Should I risk having my family experience that again? Before the attacks were at night, now they also occur in broad daylight and who

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knows when they will occur the next time? We have to move to Baghdad, don't you all agree? We should have done so a long time ago." Merem listened to him and her reaction was violent. "What are you saying, Alan? Are we to move away from my town, my friends and acquaintances, my roots? How can you come up with such stupid ideas? Never in my life! Over my dead body, I'll not move from here!" she shouted. "I'm staying here! Tell me, what I am to do in a strange new town?" "Baghdad is not a strange new city. There's a future there for our children, not here in this lawless place. Do you want us to get shot? Me, you, or our children? We must realise that we can't go on living here. It is difficult to move but we must do it to survive." "If you have already decided, why do you ask me?" answered Merem and turned her face away. "Listen to me," said Alan, "What happened yesterday was an alarm signal. I don't intend to subject my family to that danger again. It is time to move, now before it gets any worse. I can buy a house and start a business in Baghdad. Far away from this misery, far away from Issa-the-Arab who shoots indiscriminately at everything. That idiot has forced me to pay compensation to the Peshmergas more than ten times in seven months." He remained silent for while and then said in a quiet and soft voice: "Baghdad isn't so far away, you can come here to visit your friends and our relatives can come to visit us, and we'll find new friends." Merem was furious at Alan. She was close to flying off the handle but kept herself in check, sighed and said: "You can't be stopped. Do as you wish. If you decide on something, you always carry out what you intend to do. I only wondered why you asked me when you in any case do what you want and know that I don't want to move." "Don't meddle in my affairs," shouted Alan, "I decide in my own home, no one else, I want you to know. I will persuade my sister that Raza and Kadir can come with us as well." He said nothing and let out a deep sigh. "Believe me, my dear Merem. To go on living here will ultimately become a life in endless torment, there will be a reprisal for yesterday every day that we're awake, if not worse. What kind of a life is that? Are we constantly to go around being afraid of what can happen? I'll never forgive myself if anything happens to my family." The room was suddenly filled with a baby crying and Alan stopped talking. Merem went up to the baby's cot and picked him up to nurse him. Alan stayed sitting at the table and smoked and mumbled to himself.

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"Everyone in this town is envious of me and my money. They probably think I stole my way to getting it. There's a lot of tittle-tattle going on about how I got so rich. No, I don't want to live in this prison hole anymore!" The two spouses sat for a long time, silent and engrossed in their own thoughts. Merem sat down next to her husband and said: "I've thought about what you said and I've changed my mind. You are right about what you said. It was only that it came as a shock to me, it was so unexpected. But I agree with you that we have to move from here as soon as possible, away from Hairless and Issa-the-Arab. They laughed and hugged each other. "Don't be afraid, Merem," Alan said, "You won't be lonely for long. The war will go on and many another family will follow after us. It is a matter of life and death, to live here means that we are headed for a slow death. There are not many who have the opportunity of moving like we do. I know we'll have it a lot better, I have a feeling about that. Many families have already moved. It's good that we'll be moving too before we end up in a misfortune. Of course there might be a cease-fire, but they will soon start fighting again." Merem listened and realised that she had over-reacted. She knew that Alan meant well and nodded her head in agreement at everything he said. "The people have already been filled with dire hatred and a strong blind sense of revenge against us because I am rich. We will only end up in new misery if we remain here. Now we have a chance to start life over again. Right, we'll move from here and the sooner the better." "Do you know, Alan, what people will say about you?" "No, how can I know that?" "They will call you Alan the coward, the man who fled and had no resistance." "Let them say what they will, I can't sew their mouths shut. What I'm concerned about is you and our Bery and that's why I want to move." "You are absolutely right about that," she said cheerily and hugged her husband very tightly. They then sat for a while without saying anything. Then Alan looked at the clock and said that he had to go home to Amina and tell her about their decision.

It had been raining uninterruptedly but the rain had now stopped. The roads and alleys between the houses were muddy and it was hard to get through. On the main street it was slightly better, there the rain had had time to drain off. There noise and shouting could be heard and car horns honked. The sounds all mixed into a restless wave with no beginning

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or end. Many people were carrying large sandbags and all were hurrying to and fro. The cafes were filled with unemployed men talking politics the whole day and they had different ideas on how to solve the problems. On his way to Amina's house, many people greeted Alan cordially and wanted to invite him in for tea or coffee but he said no and hurried to his sister's. He entered without knocking. "So nice to see you," said Amina, "Welcome. As you can see, everyone is busy working here." Alan looked at her and wondered what they were doing. "We're piling up sandbags in front of all the windows, doors and the fence." "Welcome, uncle Alan, would you like to lend a hand?" said Brahem. "Of course," Alan answered. "We were actually expecting you yesterday," said Brahem, "But you never came." "I had thought of doing so, but I was very busy." Brahem was a warm admirer of the Peshmergas. He always had a gleam in his eye when he spoke of them. He always sought confirmation form his environment and he said: "How courageous he was, that Peshmerga who came here in broad daylight and shot Nadim dead. Not too many would have dared do that." "No," said Alan, "But now he's dead and buried and nobody knows who he was or where he came from." "Haven't you noticed how the Peshmergas are growing," Brahem said pleasantly. "Soon they'll force the military to capitulate and we Kurds will be free again." "Perhaps," mumbled Alan who preferred not to talk about the Peshmergas.

They were given help all afternoon piling up sandbags and when they were through the house looked like a fortress. Brahem called out to Amina with pride in his voice: "Are you satisfied now? Have you finally got what you wanted? Now we're living in a real fortress." "Right, I'm very satisfied," she said cheerily. They went inside and sat down in the living room. Alan turned to Brahem and said: "There's something I want to tell you and I want it to remain confidential between us. We have decided to move away from here.! "What do you mean move? To where?" "To Baghdad," said Alan, "And we would like to have you come with us."

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"But we have nowhere to go. No, we're staying here." "You have me, after all," said Alan and blushed. You can live with us and you can help me with my business. You'll earn a lot more than you earn now." "Excuse me," said Brahem, "Now I don't understand what you mean. Do you think that I'm a beggar? I'm am a man in my own house and responsible for my family. I don't intend to flee anywhere. I'm staying here like all the others. Furthermore, I believe in what the Peshmergas are doing. No, I don't intend to flee. If you want, then do it but don't come here trying to talk me into anything." "It's not just a matter of you, it's also a matter of your family and your children's future." Just at that moment the door opened and Halima and her son Raza came into the room. The two men stood up and welcomed them. Halima sat down. She immediately felt from the atmosphere that something was in the offing. They sat in silence for a while, then Halima finally asked if she'd come at an inconvenient time, if she had interrupted some discussion. "No," said Brahem, "We were just talking about moving." "What do you mean moving?" wondered Halima, looking surprised. "Your brother's family has decided to move to Baghdad." "You don't say! Is this true, Alan?" "Yes, it's true. We intend to move within a month." Halima's face changed colour. She was shocked by the news and was lost for words. Alan went up to her and patted her on the shoulders and said: "What's wrong with you, dear sister? You look sad." "Nothing," she answered, "I'm just sad that it has come to this. My husband is imprisoned and I don't know where he is and you are moving. What shall we do?" "What are you saying? I'm not moving for good or to another planet. I'm only moving to Baghdad and that's only three hours form here by car. I'm surprised that you haven't wished me luck. If you change your mind, you can move in with me. You're welcome and even Kadir is welcome to move in with me. I have no son of my own, but both Merem and I like Raza and Kadir as if they were our own sons." Brahem patted Alan on the shoulders and said in a friendly voice: "We wish you luck, we know that we have you if necessary. But now it's time for lunch, my stomach can't wait any longer." He called out to Amina: "What's with the food, we'll soon be starving."

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They sat down around the plastic tablecloth, set with dishes, on the floor and in less than ten minutes they had devoured all of the food. Then they all lay down on mattresses and slept for a while. When Kadir awakened, he thought of the dead man and about what his uncle Alan had said and realised that the war was for real.

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1963

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21

Snow fell without stopping every day and time almost stood still. Only a few cars could be seen on the streets. They were covered with snow and drove slowly. Few people went out on the snow-filled streets. Schools were closed and roads out of the city were closed. People stayed inside their homes and waited for better weather. Alan was in town on a visit, stuck against his will with his sister Amina due to the snowy weather. He was worried and felt lonely and longed to be home with his family. Amina looked out the window, glanced up at the sky and said: "This is the worst winter I've ever lived through. It must be God's wrath. We don't fear God anymore, he has abandoned us and we have abandoned him. Even the weather has turned against us." She had been seized by a wild desire to turn the clock back to the time when they lived together in peace.

In the previous two years the Peshmergas had grown much stronger and the war had escalated. The Peshmergas got support from Iran with money, medicine and weapons. Most of the Kurds were involved in the struggle and Kadir's father Brahem was one of them. Everything had changed. Many people had become poor and unemployed, others had become rich from smuggling. Many had been killed or lost and arm or a leg. The hospitals worked night and day and ambulances shuttled back and forth to pick up the dead or the injured. People disappeared and never came back. Mahmod had been lucky since he survived in any case, even if he was in prison in the middle of the desert. He often wrote letters to his family. They went wild with joy whenever a letter arrived but Raza was more afraid than he cared to admit when he read them. Raza now knew that Shirin was as much in love with him as he was with her. That made it easier for him to go on living in the midst of all this misery.

It sounded like the government had something important to say and everyone in Brahem's house sat gathered around the radio and listened to the news. But neither Amina nor her husband could speak Arabic. They only understood a few words and Amina did not know if she should feel happy or not. He felt, as always, that everything would get worse and that the new government was no better than the old one. But in the middle of all this chaos people had some strength and there was increasing hope that a cease-fire could come about. This united people. Amina and Brahem had completely different views when they discussed these things. They got nowhere when they tried to conduct a conversation, if one of them leaned to the left, the other leaned to the right but they could still live

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together. Amina didn't want her husband to get involved in politics since she felt that this could destroy the family but Brahem didn't care at all what she said. They shouted and argued, disagreed and then agreed again. It normally ended with Brahem having the last word. Kadir usually didn't listen to their squabbling but this particular evening when the debate was in full swing Brahem decided he would tease Amina: "After all, I've told you that some day justice has to be victorious and we Kurds will be free. The new government will give up. I know that you never liked the Peshmergas and that you go crazy every time you hear their name mentioned since you hate everything that has anything to do with weapons. But just wait, soon the streets will be full of jubilant people celebrating the Peshmergas' victory and our freedom." "We'll just have to wait and see," answered Amina angrily, "Time will have to tell. What do you think of me, actually? I too from the bottom of my heart want us to have our own country where we can live safely but it looks like that is now impossible and this is our own fault for we can never unite and that is our biggest problem. We always bet on the wrong horse and never get anywhere." Brahem was on the verge of losing control but held himself back when he saw Alan sitting all alone in silence. He turned to Alan and said: "Do you know what your sister did when she heard that the king was dead?" "I do, but tell it again." Brahem laughed and started to imitate Amina, he beat his breast and said slowly in a maudlin voice: "The king is dead! He was the Prophet's messenger. Killing him will bring misfortune. This country will never be the same again." Brahem continued beating his breast and imitated Amina's whining voice: "My lovely Amina! You'll see with your own eyes that the Peshmergas can achieve peace and harmony in our land." No one spoke for a while. Kadir and Little Brother understood that something serious had happened but they didn't know what. Amina was angry with Brahem. "You miserable man." She tried to get back at him by saying: "What reason do we have for believing that your Peshmergas will do any better? We lived under the monarchy for thirty years. Tell me, didn't we have peace after all, for all that period? Nobody was imprisoned without a trial and no one was murdered or tortured. The people were united and there was no difference between Kurds and Arabs or other religions. If someone was killed, people spoke about it for several generations but nowadays people kill just as casually as they drink water. Our region is now being harassed by lawless and ruthless men like Hairless and cousin Doran."

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Sirwan tried to keep the aggressive mood of the discussion from getting out of hand since he feared it would soon derail into a serious fight: "Do you really believe there'll be peace," he asked Brahem. "Absolutely, my son, that is destiny and it's nothing anyone can flee from," Brahem responded. "Everything is written in your forehead." "There's nothing written in anyone's forehead," shouted Amina, "Don't get involved with the Peshmergas. This war will go on for a long time. I have a feeling about it. Don't come to me and tell me there's going to be any peace for even if there is peace things will never be like they were before. What is it that suggests that this government is any better then the previous ones?" "Be quiet, woman, you damned witch," said Brahem out loud. He was blue in the face from anger. "The hell with it! Haven't I told you at least a hundred times before not to meddle in our talks on politics? Your place is in the kitchen and taking care of the children. I'm tired of your nagging and complaining, you don't understand anything about politics, so keep quiet, old hag! It doesn't matter how things were before, believe me, I know. Now times have changed, I know," he said angrily. Last year was better than this year, I know. The king was better than the military, I know," he shouted and went on: "Before there was no trace of either war or killing for a long time. People lived under law and order, no one was imprisoned without proof, political prisoners were treated with respect and everyone had their democratic rights. Now be quiet, woman!" His hands shook and he was on the verge of losing his self-control altogether. Amina stopped talking and hurried off to the kitchen. Kadir and Little Brother sat in silence the whole evening and waited to see if their mother would give in and come back into the room to continue the argument. But everything remained silent and the mood was depressed in the living room. Brahem had a serious look on his face and leaned over the radio again and concentrated on hearing the Arabic news which he didn't understand very much of. He wanted to have complete silence in the room so that he wouldn't miss a single word. Every now and then he asked Alan to translate since Alan was the only one present who could speak Arabic. Amina took out her barmal, the thin and elaborately decorated woven prayer rug she used when praying, and began to say her prayers. Suddenly Brahem called out in a loud voice: "Open the door, Kadir! Are you deaf? Can't you hear that someone is knocking on the door!" Cousin Omar came in and everyone rose to greet him. They shook hands with him and then all sat down again. "Is it still snowing?" asked Alan.

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"No, it stopped long ago. I think the roads will be opened again tomorrow." "I hope they will, since I've have much to do in Baghdad. I'm worried whether I can get back there now that the nationalists have seized power. It doesn't look good!" "Alan, you and your gloomy views, you see everything so pessimistically," said Brahem. "If the new government say they want to have a cease-fire, then they must mean it." Alan drew a deep sigh and said: "Didn't you hear what they said on the news?" "What do you mean," Brahem responded hesitantly. "They said that a blood bath is going on in Baghdad. They have killed all socialists, all democrats and anyone putting up resistance. It is nothing but a bunch of reckless madmen who have seized power." "I completely agree with you," said Omar "And I understand your concern about going there. I hope and pray that there will soon be peace again but the government are certainly trying to gain time by mopping up all resistance in Baghdad. It won't surprise me if it is not our turn next. It is best to be on our guard and not to take sides in the conflict. I have a feeling that the war will escalate again. We will just have to wait and see what happens. But it's best to be careful." Amina came back into the room and said: "That is just what we were talking about before you came and Brahem got mad at me." Brahem tried to interrupt her but didn't succeed and Amina went on: "I beg you, Brahem, listen to me for just this once and stay out of politics! I know what I'm talking about. Omar is right. They'll soon come here and drive us off as well. They are much too powerful for us, we cannot fight them. Times have changed and we can no longer feel safe anywhere." Amina started to cry. "I know what you're up to. You are getting involved in dangerous things. You talk all over the place and it'll soon get to those who are not supposed to hear what you say. Some fine day it'll come out and they'll come and get you. Do you want to deprive your kids of their father? How will I be able to bring up my children alone? I'm scared. It won't be any better for you than it was for my sister's husband Mahmod. One day they just came and took him away and put him in prison far out in the desert and we don't even know if he's dead or alive now. If my sister and her children didn't have Alan they would have starved to death. I don't want to be struck by the same fate as he. Can't you stop with your political talk, keep your mouth shut, wait and see?"

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Brahem was indignant. He didn't want to hear such talk from his own wife. He liked to listen to other people's opinions but he didn't want to listen to those of his wife. Several times he was close to losing control over himself and going after her but he controlled himself because of all the guests present. Brahem's eyes were aglow with wrath. He squinted at her and said in the most contained tone of voice he could muster: "Quiet, woman, I said, haven't you understood that there's a world of difference between me and your sister's husband. He's a socialist and that's not what I am. He turned his back on his own people. I love my own people and am ready to die for them and that's the big difference between him and me. He deserved to be captured!" "That's what I'm afraid of," Amina sobbed, "You would rather die for your people than live for your family. Can't we just move to Baghdad? Alan has said that we could come live with him." "Quiet, woman. Over my dead body will I move anywhere," Brahem shouted. "I know what I'm doing and the only thing you need to do is to keep your mouth shut. And for that matter, who are you to come here airing your views, who asked you? I am a man in my own house, I decide what I'm to do and where we will live. What do you think? What do you think we should do? Should we Kurds just give up our freedom? Should we bow to those who have power and flee in our own country or should we put up resistance? Just tell me? Should we let such a stupid bastard like Saddam Hussein, who's from southern Iraq and doesn't know anything about us Kurds living up here in the north, should we let him take power? Is he to rule over us in our own country and tell us Kurds that we don't exist and that we can't speak our own language and have our own religion? Haven't you grasped that we don't have any other country anywhere? There are also Kurds in Turkey, Iran and Syria and we are persecuted everywhere. The new government know what they are doing and we will get our freedom. Believe me." He became silent for a while and had an absent stare on his face but then became upset again and raised his voice: "Go get tea and cake, woman! Are you blind? Don't you see that we have your brother and cousin Omar visiting us? Go make something good for us to eat. Alan has come here all the way from Baghdad. What a useless woman, can't you see that we have guests in our house?" He said no more and after a little while he calmed down and they started with small talk and gossip about people in the neighbourhood. "They say that Aza's daughter is a whore," said Amina. "Yes," Alan answered and blushed. "How do you know that?" asked Brahem.

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"People talk," said Alan and changed the subject. "I have to go back to my family tomorrow, they will be worried about me." "Stay here till the situation calms down," said Brahem and turned with an angry look to Amina: "Put more tea on, can't you see that my cup is empty." Amina sat in silence since she realised it was not a good idea to contradict him any further. On her way to the kitchen she mumbled moodily: "Good God help us! What an idiot I'm married to!" The evening lasted until late and Kadir had sat and listened to what everyone had to say while the debate continued. When he went off to bed, he lay for a long time and thought about everything and found it hard to take side between people he loved more than anything else - his mama Amina and his papa Brahem.

22

A month had now passed and the cold winter was slowly ebbing away. People in town were happy about rumours that a peace treaty would be signed at any moment. One early morning while it was still dark outside, Kadir came home from the bakery. For the first time he met up with armed Peshmergas who looked happy. It was Hairless rushing off to the neighbourhood around Kadir's house with his group. They were noisy and in good spirits, armed with Burnaw rifles and Kalashnikovs. A few days earlier everyone had heard that the Peshmergas would come to town to sign a peace treaty. Supporters of the Peshmergas waited day in and day out for the hour to come when they could meet their beloved Peshmergas and Brahem was aglow with joy and could hardly talk about anything else. Then finally the hour arrived when Hairless knocked on his door. Brahem was elated and looked on in expectation when Hairless started to speak: "Are you receiving guests?" Brahem could hardly believe his eyes and stared in fascination at all the guerrilla soldiers that stepped in over his threshold. He quickly went up to them and it took him quite a while to shake hands with all of them and kiss them on the cheeks. "I've waited so long for this moment, make yourself at home," he repeated time and time again. Hairless and his men were glad to be welcomed so warmly and made themselves at home in the living room. Brahem called out aloud to his wife to serve the best that the house had to offer. Just at that moment Kadir came back from the bakery. Brahem turned to Kadir and told

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him to run back to the baker Kala and buy another ten loaves of bread and reminded him especially that he was to tell the baker that the family had Peshmergas visiting them. Amina made breakfast half-heartedly in the kitchen together with little Narmin. It was almost eight o'clock in the morning when breakfast was ready. They ate their breakfast, all of them speaking at the same time. "We heard several times rumours that you had been hit," said Brahem. God knows that we mourned for you and we prayed that it wasn't true." Hairless felt remarkable and told him in a relaxed and clear tone of voice that he had been close to being hit several times and that it was his job to face such dangers. He said that several of his men never came back and that it could be his turn at any moment. He felt he had thus far been lucky and that he must have had an angel over his shoulder since no bullets had bored into his body. Hairless made himself even more comfortable and carefully twisted his wellgroomed moustache. "I remember the last encounter we had with the military, I made it with just a hair's breadth. It was one of the heaviest and most difficult battles we were in. It was a dull day," he sighed deeply. "We lost ten Peshmergas, which was quite a loss for us. But we shot or wounded more than one-hundred soldiers. That was when I confiscated this Kalashnikov and I've carried it ever since." "How many soldiers have you killed," Sirwan burst out spontaneously. "Hush," said Amina, "Those poor people also had family and children like we do!" "Soldiers get killed in battle. I have no way of knowing how many it has been." The oldest Peshmerga added to what he said: "We weren't invited to a party, in war you kill or you get killed, what can you do?" "Did you ever get caught in an ambush and, if so, what did it feel like?" Sirwan wanted to know. Hairless answered that they had many times. He likened the situation to being surprised by a lion and waiting to be eaten up by it at any moment. "One gets quite indifferent to both pain and fear. Everything happens so fast that there is no time to think about it. Grenades and bullets rain down on you. There is no time to think about getting killed or captured. The main thing is to keep up with it whatever happens. The fight must never stop."

Kadir was overwhelmed with amazement and admiration. For two years he had longed to meet a real live Peshmerga and now they were sitting here all in real life in the family's

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own living room and telling about their fantastic experiences and the horrors of their great struggle. Amina came into the room in silence and sat down. "God help us and may we have peace. I am so tired of this war with its death and misery." "We must help ourselves," said Hairless. "If we're going to wait for God then we'll have to wait a long time." Amina interrupted him despite a dirty look from Brahem who was quite irritated with her. "How will things go when we no longer have any friends beyond the mountains?" "We have no friends," he said, "But we have lots of enemies and the enemy's enemies are always our friends." Hairless fell silent. Both he and Brahem were annoyed at Amina who had ruined this memorable moment with her questions. Brahem discretely signalled to Amina that she should leave the living room, something she ignored completely. Hairless turned to her and said with affected friendliness: "We Kurds have never experienced anything but persecution. We have even been split up into three groups. We Kurds do not want war, do you think a single Peshmerga among us wants to live as we do? We live like bandits in the mountains, without sleep or prepared meals. We hike for hours at night and hide in the daytime. We sleep on the ground with rocks for pillows and mattresses made of grass. We live in constant anxiety that someone will get sick or be injured without any access to a doctor's assistance. We don't want to die alone in the mountains. It can take days to move an injured Peshmerga over the inaccessible mountain areas to Iran. Many of them never make it to safety." He cleared his throat and started up again: "But things will be different, we will be able to speak our own language again without being discriminated. I'm willing to sacrifice, not only my own life but even all of my family's life for my people." Amina shook her head and said: "I don't think any problems can be solved with violence. Violence only begets more violence." Hairless laughed out loud and said in a voice filled with irony that it was foolish to think that. "What has been taken away with force cannot be got back for nothing! We have to show the world that we exist even though we've been forgotten for a long time." "I don't believe," Amina interrupted him, "that the world cares very much about us. Do you think so?" Brahem stared at Amina with a serious expression on his face.

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"Stop now, woman, go get some more tea!" He patted Hairless on the shoulders and said: "As you can see, I'm not married to a normal woman but to a prosecutor." Everyone laughed and Hairless tactfully responded that it would be a good idea if all women were as aware as Amina. Brahem interrupted him quickly: "No, no, I would much rather be married to a completely normal woman. We argue all the time, mostly about politics. She never gives in. She takes after her mother!"

Hairless enjoyed his new role as a war hero and his triumph knew no bounds. He was surrounded by his men and confronted with appreciative glances full of warmth. "It has been almost two years since I left town. What has happened here in the neighbourhood, tell me what's with that cantankerous old woman?" "Which woman?" "The neighbourhood terror, the Widow!" Everyone laughed out loud when Hairless gesticulated and imitated the way the Widow raised her finger towards one of the kids on the street. "She's as scared as she's nasty," answered Brahem. She constantly believes that she could be hit with a bullet at any moment, a few times she was close to fainting or having a heart attack. She is angry with my sons and we have renounced our acquaintanceship. Now she's mad at the butcher's son who backed out of a marriage with her daughter." "The poor man," said Hairless, "who has to marry the Widow's daughter." Time flew and they talked of everything that had happened since they had last met. Suddenly Hairless got up and wanted to go to town to show himself and his Peshmergas off. He went ahead and the others followed him and he carried a German pistol that was very popular in town. On his way out he had to promise Brahem that he would come for dinner and would not promise to visit any other family for the evening.

23 The neighbourhood was abustle. Children, gaping and shouting, gathered in groups since they didn't have to go to school that day, school being closed, something that made them very happy. They were curious and wanted to see the armed Peshmergas that they had longed to see for such a long time. They were very exited and bragged to each other about what they saw. When Kadir went out he felt like a very remarkable person since Hairless had been to his house for a visit but when he caught sight of Fatso he felt like sinking into the ground.

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Fatso stood in the middle of a circle with lots of kids around him. He was acting conceitedly and called out to Kadir. He showed off a pistol that he had on him. "Kadir, come here and see what I have." Kadir approached. "What is it called, how many bullets?" "Fourteen." "Can I hold it a moment?" "No," said Fatso proudly, "Nobody can touch it except me." Kadir was annoyed and asked Fatso who he thought he was. He wondered if he felt that he was somebody special just because he was allowed to borrow his brother's pistol. "What's wrong with that? I have a brother who's a Peshmerga, he's not like your brothers," Fatso sneered provocatively at Kadir. Now I'll go home and get his Kalashnikov!" "Peshmergas come to our house and eat with us every day," said Kadir. "My papa is a Peshmerga supporter and one day he'll be more powerful than your brother." "You braggart, no one is more powerful or courageous than my brother," said Fatso proudly, "He's not like your brothers, my brother has been given a medal by the great leader." "You're a liar," said Kadir indignantly. "Do you think I don't know that you swiped your brother's pistol, he's probably looking for it at home right now." The kids listened and Fatso said that he swore on the Koran that what he said was the truth. "I've been given this pistol by my brother. He told me that he needs a bodyguard and if I want I can be his bodyguard. I'm his brother and he wants to have someone he can rely on. You're green with envy, you little fart. Just wait until I get big enough and I'll carry the most modern arms they make." Kadir felt crushed and just for once couldn't think of any sufficiently caustic response. For the moment he hated his brother and his papa for not bearing any arms and promised himself that he would join the Peshmergas when he got big enough to decide on these matters himself. "Can I touch your pistol?" "If you ask nicely." The kids were fascinated by the Peshmergas and their arms and they fought loudly about which rifle was the most powerful one, and over who had killed the most soldiers. They thought up stories about blood and dead soldiers. They put football aside and instead made themselves toy guns of wood and scraps of metal. The streets were

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filled with noise and shouting when the kids played Peshmerga, police or soldiers. They all had their idols, some of them made Hairless their idol while another might idolise Issa-the-Arab.

The neighbourhood women ran to the Widow's house. She was still the strongest among them and the one that all the others had to report to on anything that had happened in the neighbourhood and to hear what she had to say. When she saw Hairless and his men leaving Brahem's house she was almost beside herself with wrath and said in a raucous voice: "I'm so disappointed! I can't understand why our Hairless chose to visit Brahem, that he chose to go visit him of all the fine families here in town. He went to visit those damned idiots that always trim their sails to the wind and now they're Peshmerga supporters, of all people. When the heat was on Amina's brother left us and fled to Baghdad, that damned rich bastard that earns money with everything." She took a deep sigh and said in a voice full of lamentation that she had always felt that the Peshmergas were for justice but now one could see that they were just like anyone else, blinded by riches. The Widow was upset and groaned on: "It's so unjust, scads of socialists have been executed. My sister's husband was executed without any trial, but Halima's husband Mahmod managed to get by because he had a rich brother-in-law. Mahmod is alive while others are dead and buried. He's sitting safely in a prison in the desert." The Widow leaned back, looked up at the heavens and exclaimed: "Allah, where are you? Do you hear me? Can everything be bought for money? Can one even buy his life for money? Allah, answer me!" "Such is life," sighed Shama, "Some are born with a silver spoon in their mouth." The Widow took another deep sigh and said that nowadays there was no morality and that there were few who had any shame in their body." "Incidentally, on the subject of not having any shame in your body, do you know who turned up at my door seeking my daughters hand in marriage?" the Widow asked and shook her head in dissatisfaction. "Do you know who the exquisite suitor was?" All of them knew very well who it was but nonetheless responded in unison: "No, tell us, tell us!" "The butcher's good-for-nothing gay son, he wants to marry my beautiful daughter," shouted the Widow and beat her breast. "I'll sooner move away from this damned town and this damned neighbourhood. I'll move where nobody knows me. The homo and his damned parents had the nerve to come into my home and ask for my lovely daughter's hand. Can you believe it? The butcher's good-for-nothing son! Everything has

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its limits, but should I and my family sink to the butcher's level? I threw them out and told them that the borderline line is here and if you dare to come back I'll send the dogs after you! They were scared and vanished pretty fast. I don't think they'll dare to set foot in my house again." The women listened without giving away what they actually felt and thought, just saying "Ayaro," the Kurdish word for "wow." The Widow went on: "What has happened to people, do they think that everything can be bought for money! Don't you believe that I understand that the butcher bastard is trying to buy himself out of it and is hiding the fact that his son is a damned homo. How many of the little boys in this neighbourhood hasn't that bastard been in bed with? Everyone knows it but no one did anything about it and that's shameful. Is there no morality anymore? No riches in this world can cover up moral shortcomings. And then that damned butcher tried to marry off that damned homo of a son of his to my beautiful daughter!" Everyone knew that the Widow was out for revenge but no one dared to contradict her even though everyone knew that the butcher's son had not in any way committed the crimes that the Widow claimed. The actual reason why the Widow opposed having the butcher's son marry her daughter was because the butcher did not want to pay the maraj that the Widow had asked for her daughter. The also knew that the butcher's son had asked for another girl's hand in a neighbourhood close by and that this was what had made the Widow so angry and indignant. "It was courageous of you to say so," said Komri after soaking up the Widow's outpourings. "He deserves it, the fag," said Shama. "Imagine him having the nerve to ask for your daughter's hand! Anyone who can't watch out for his own asshole can't watch out for a woman either!" "Shoot him, a fag has no right to live!" "Many others would have given their daughter to such a rich man, but not you, poor Widow, may God take care of you!" The Widow calmed down now that she felt that she had the support of all the women. She felt greatly relieved. Then she caught a glance of Fatso's brother together with several other armed Peshmergas and called out ingratiatingly: "Look at them, what courageous men, proud like the mountains themselves!"

24

Before Hairless had achieved fame as a guerrilla soldier he had not been welcome in the neighbourhood. The Widow had always detested him and conducted a campaign against

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him, trying to drive him out. She often said quite openly that nowadays practically anyone was allowed to move into the neighbourhood. "I can't stand him," the Widow had said. "I don't like living with murderers among us. There's something deceitful about him. He's the ugliest creature I've ever seen. Have you people seen his crooked hook nose that covers half his face?"

Now the Widow had changed her mind as far as Hairless was concerned, now that he had been a Peshmerga for two years. The neighbourhood was proud of him and bragged about him and many people said that he would go far in life if he got the chance to live long enough. Now very different remarks could be heard coming from the Widow about Hairless. "I know that poor man, I've often had a feeling that he is a great man that you can rely on. I know everything about his past." "Please tell us," said Komri, showing considerable curiosity. The Widow looked around her and took a good look at the other women. "He actually comes from a family that fled here from Iran during a clan feud and later they settled down in a village near Halabja. His father was a very cruel and stubborn man who beat everyone in the family, sometimes so hard that they were bedridden for weeks. When Hairless was a child he took many a licking. He started to work as a construction worker when he was twelve years old, the poor thing. He had bad luck and got married to that witch Nagma. She was the one who couldn't understand him. That good-for-nothing woman does not even deserve such an outstanding man like Hairless. He showed everyone at once that he's a real devil of a man." The Widow said nothing for a short while and it seemed that she had forgotten something, but then she went on: "It was that witch's fault, she deserved all the beatings Hairless dealt her. He was always forced to tell her off. And we thought that he was a murderer and had killed many people. All those rumours about him were just lies without any relation to reality!" "What kind of rumours?" wondered Shama with a gleam in her eye." "That he cheated on his wife with that slut Ama!" Komri added helpfully. ""Yes, all of that was just his wife's invention," said Shama. "I wouldn't believe that if it happened in front of my own eyes." "If he went to bed with her," said the Widow, "then it isn't Hairless's fault but the fault of that slut who can't watch out for her own legs." The women all nodded in agreement and said that everyone should feel proud of him. "There won't be another one like Hairless born again."

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When the Widow heard Ama's name, she seized the opportunity to change the subject. "How is she doing?" "Who?" "Does she have any new affairs going?" "There are rumours." "What kind of rumours?" "They say she found a good man in Baghdad and is now a very respected woman." The Widow went out of her mind and bit her teeth together. "She must die, the snake must die before it gets big, that slut brings shame on our entire nation. She has no morals in her body, that fallen woman, the only thing she knows how to do is to sleep with everybody, how does she stand it? Now she's gone so far as to sleep with Arabs! That slut will get a licking if I see her, I'll cut the tongue out of any bastard that says hello to her. God, life has certainly changed when even sluts have a right to live." "She should be stoned to death," Komri said. "The least one can say," said Shama. "I wonder what they see in her, what does she have that we don't have, the slut." "I feel sorry for her children," said the Widow. "Imagine, being brought up by her. Ama's husband is a real pimp, the slut supports him by the sweat of her body." "The best thing they did was to move to another city where no one knew them. And our husbands have no more chance to knock on her door!" "Stop talking rubbish," the Widow interrupted in an aggressive tone of voice. "She bears full responsibility for her honour. A woman should watch out for her legs and the worst thing," the Widow said, "is that Ama doesnt care about anyone, she does what she wants and has said that some day she'll take revenge on everyone who has hurt her or her children. She's already bringing them up to be members of the government party." The Widow stopped talking but then said: "We haven't done her any harm. If she had been a respectable woman then she wouldn't have opened herself up for everyone, known or unknown. We haven't forced this on her, she has only herself to blame!" The young girls sat in silence and got their education from the Widow's speech. When the call from the mosque was heard throughout the city they dispersed to go say their prayers!

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The town basked in peace and the people celebrated as they used to do during the religious holiday of Ramadan, everyone greeted everyone else and encouraging rumours kept their spirits up. The joy was indescribable! Happiest were those families that had sons or husbands who were amnestied and could return home. The Peshmergas felt at home and people queued up to invite them into their homes.

25

The days turned into months and the cease fire continued. The Peshmergas had their headquarters a little ways out from the city and there the kids gathered from all parts of town and admired their idols. Amina and Halima sat at home with Raza and in their eyes one could detect hope that the government might at any time grant an amnesty and Mahmod would be released. Raza came in all out of breath and spoke so incoherently that Karim Bey, who could speak Arabic perfectly, explained that the government would soon grant an amnesty. Halima hugged Raza and kissed his forehead. "We'll live to see God's will being done!" Amina burst out with joy: ""We'll organise a welcome party like no one has ever seen before!" Halima became silent and her thoughts flew back in time to the day two years before when the police had come to take him away. She sat immersed in her thoughts until the others told her that she should wake up and listen to the wonderful news. Halima lifted up her face and looked sad: "I've heard those rumours so many times, I'll be happy the day I see him here with my own eyes." "As usual, you're a pessimist and only see the darker side of things." Raza was irritated at his mother who was used to whining and spoiled the mood for everyone. He didn't otherwise care what his mother thought but now that she was so much in doubt about his papa's being released he couldnt help being affected. He turned to the others with sad eyes and said in a barely audible voice: "Do you think that Karim Bey is lying? He told me this and everyone knows it's true, my papa will soon be released!" He burst out crying. Halima rushed to console him: "I didn't mean that, I meant it in general. If Karim Bey has said so, then I believe him."

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"He said it!" "Okay then, I believe him."

Among the boys in the neighbourhood there was talk about the fact that Fatso had stolen Kadir's admirers. That was the second setback for Kadir who now felt isolated and avoided Fatso. He couldnt look into his eyes and in his heart he hated Fatso and wished he could tear him apart. He often visited Raza's village and thought up everything imaginable so that they could stay there and not have to come back into town. Sometimes he slept over with Raza or else he stayed until it was evening and when it got dark he could rush home to make it just in time for dinner. The neighbour's girl, Susan, was on the lookout for Fatso and told her girl friends that he was the cutest fellow in the neighbourhood and that his pistol made him look so handsome. Fatso paraded up and down throughout the neighbourhood and took several boys along who followed him faithfully. He spoke and they listened in awe. Blue Eye forgot everything else and followed Fatso around like a shadow and told him all the good and bad things people were saying about him. Sometimes he entreated Fatso to let him bear the pistol for a short while. "Please, can't I borrow it?" "No, it's mine." "Only just once." "No, I said!" Fatso shouted and kept his hand permanently on the black steel.

The school was not a mixed one, the boys and girls went to separate schools. It was very hard for boys to make friends with girls or vice versa. Here there had always been strict rules of behaviour and this made the forbidden fruit all the more enticing. Kadir loved to indulge in romantic dreams about love. In reality, he was so afraid that he didn't even dare to say hello or open his mouth to talk with a girl. He started to write instead and got some assistance from Raza to reword the letter that had never arrived because Fatso had found it in Kadir's school desk. Three years had now passed since then and now it was Fatso's turn to take the chance. He had no problems, there being many others willing to be his messenger and to deliver Fatso's letter.

The sturdy classroom teacher Hussain had become much nicer to Fatso. The latter could basically do as he pleased. Even though he played truant and fell behind with his homework, the teachers still treated him with respect. In the classroom, everyone wanted

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to sit beside him, everyone but Kadir and Raza, that is. He was looked up to and everyone was more or less envious of him. Kadir chatted with Raza: "Look at those nobodies licking Fatso's ass, even our idiot of a teacher is afraid of him." "Such is life," said Raza "But for me he's the same little barrow boy." "Yes, he seems to have forgotten that, now that so many want to be his buddy." "Fatso has become important! I'm told that he shouted at Hussain to leave Blue Eye alone since he was his friend and the teacher did stop beating Blue Eye! Who wouldn't want to be a friend of a person like that?" "How can Hussain let someone like that get away with it and then just say that this will do for this once?" "He too has a wife and children. Who wants to rub Peshmerga families the wrong way?"

The school bell rang and the kids quickly filed into the classroom. Kadir, Raza and Ahmad sat on the same bench in the very front of the class. When Hussain came in, everyone stood up in the classroom while Fatso remained seated, unconcerned and without moving. Hussain did not betray with the slightest hint that he had seen Fatso and soon started to ask questions about the day's lessons. "Who invented electricity?" "Hairless," answered Fatso and everyone in the class laughed while Hussain boiled with anger but without losing his self-control. At a time like this he could find no other way out than to go after someone else. He quickly went up to Ahmad and gave him a hefty blow with his fist. "Idiot! What are you laughing for?" he said in an indignant voice. "You idiot!" Fatso climb up from his bench, his eyes full of anger. "Stop it, damn it, you've practically killed him!" One could have heard a pin drop in the room. Hussain looked at Fatso and put his hands at his side. He spoke with exaggerated tenderness and friendliness: "It seems like you haven't done your homework. We'll let it go today, but for your own sake I hope you'll read up for the next question period. Otherwise, nothing will come of you when you get big." Fatso interrupted the teacher: "I know what I'm going to be, teacher, I'll join the Peshmergas when I'm old enough."

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In the neighbourhood, all the women were now talking about Hairless's visit to Baghdad. Shama turned to the Widow and promised to divulge something that would certainly be of interest." "What, what?" said the Widow full of curiosity. "Don't you know what happened? How could you have missed it?" "Tell me, tell me please, Shama, I can't wait to hear, I'm dying of curiosity!" Shama had a gleam in her eye and it was easy to see her malicious delight over someone else's misfortune. "Hairless, our courageous Hairless was on a visit to Baghdad and who did he go to see if not Ama? The idiot spent two days looking for the right address." The Widow's face turned a different colour and a broad smile divulged that she understood that this piece of news would be explosive. "Tell me what happened," said the Widow, "And don't forget any of the details!" "When he got there," Shama continued, "he wanted to enter her house but was met by an irate Ama with fire in her eyes. She cried out like an animal that had been shot that she was in the process of being raped so that the neighbours all gathered, armed with sticks and canes and whatever they could find. Ama shouted and the earth shook." Shama continued her tale, egged on by the Widow's eager response. "You wretch!" she shouted. "You promised to marry me but you didn't keep your promise. How dare you come here after what you did to me and my family? I'll spread my revenge with the wind, you'll be the subject of everyone's talk," and she spat at him and called him a wretch and a woman-beater. She swore in front of everyone that she would take her revenge on him and that she would bring up her children to take revenge, to become Hairless's number one enemy. Ama is doing well now in Baghdad and she has the support of all her neighbours. Do you know what she promised Hairless?" "No, tell me!" "She shouted: 'If you come here again I'll see to it that they cut off what you're most proud about!'" They say that Hairless was as shocked as someone who had been caught in the act, he who thought that Ama's door was always open and that he had a good lay waiting for him. Instead he was met by raging women neighbours who gave him a good licking. When Hairless tried to tear himself away he was hit in the head with a large stone. It was Ama's son Sali that threw it. With blood flowing, the great Hairless had to run off with his tail between his legs." Shama was through talking and the women sat there petrified when they thought of what an unexpected turn the who matter had taken.

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"When he got to the hotel," said Shama, taking a short break, "his men were sitting and waiting for him and although he didn't say anything, they all knew where he had been." The Widow was lost for words. She had expected a completely different story. When she thought of the revenge that Ama had taken she got an uneasy feeling of fright. "Ayaro, you can expect anything from that woman!" "So that's why we haven't seen a trace of our courageous Hairless," Shama snorted. "Serves him right!" said Komri, "He could never get his fill of women. He always has a few on the side."

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One early Friday morning when Kadir was on his way home from the bakery he encountered dejected people on the street who said that the cease fire had been broken and that things could explode at any moment. He ran straight home and shouted: "Mama, mama, the cease fire has been broken, there's not a single Peshmerga left in town. They have all withdrawn into the mountains." Amina went even whiter in the face than she had already been and lifted her head up to the heavens: "God protect us, we have only You to turn to!" Brahem was silent and one could hardly get a sound out of him. Amina called to him to come and drink tea before it got cold. Brahem had suddenly become depressed. He felt that this time things were serious. "Leave me alone," he said. "Don't worry," Amina responded "Allah is great!" "How can I not be worried when I've taken sides so openly. Now everyone knows that I'm a supporter of the Peshmergas. If there is war again we will be the target of reprisals. What should I do? Should I leave you and join them or is it best for me to stay put?" All was silence for a while. Little Brother and Narmin did not understand what the grownups were talking about and why they looked so serious. Kadir, on the other hand, felt that something horrible could happen here. Amina tried again to convince Brahem to move to Baghdad, away from the city. "I think we should accept Alan's invitation and move to Baghdad!"

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"Never in my life," said Brahem, "I'll never leave my home. What should I do there, should I become an errand boy for your brother? I'll never sink to that level, death is better than such humiliation." "You are fifty but no one can ever teach you anything. What do you have against my brother? He's only trying to help us!" Amina was highly irritated. "Quiet, woman!" Brahem said in an angry voice to his wife. "I don't want any help. I'm the one who's a man in his own house!" "If only I could say that you can blame yourself," she said frostily, "but what will you do if anything happens to us? I have tried to remind you several times that you should stop with politics but you never listen to me, and now it's too late." "I'm not fleeing anywhere." The argument between man and wife continued and Kadir could not understand Amina's complaint. He thought she was nagging and was being unjust to Brahem and that she criticised him all the time. "You men just want to shirk responsibility, you don't know what responsibility is or even how to spell it. You can't see further than the length of your nose. You are like kids and never grow up. You want so hard to be servants of the people and heroes of the nation and therefore you don't understand what your loved ones need." The tenor of the debate hardened and Brahem lost his self-control. He shouted so loud that the earth shook: "Stop, woman, for God's sake!" and pushed her to the floor just as he threw a large saucepan at her. Kadir was frightened and was silent like death. He didn't know how the argument would turn out and he reproached himself since he was the one who had brought the news home. Amina quieted down and slowly went out to the bathroom. The situation calmed down and Brahem went out on the street and spoke out loud to himself. He wandered despondently around the neighbourhood. He was irritated for not having a real woman at home but one that always meddled in everything, big and small. Nor could he find any words for the dread it had aroused in him when he heard Kadir call out that the cease fire had been broken. When he got home again his rage had burned out and Amina resumed her complaints in peace and quiet, single-mindedly and fearlessly. "Those irresponsible people have thousands of excuses for what they do. They're great egoists but they talk about community and solidarity and fool thousands of loyal people like my husband. How can you leave your loved ones alone to their fate in order to serve others? For the sake of the revolution we are headed for losing everything that we thought we'd been fighting for."

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She beat her breast. "Those who have nothing to lose and who can't live under law and order or succeed in taking care of themselves become revolutionaries. They set off wildfires! Those types of people that can scare the living daylights out of anyone. They rule the way they want to. Just like your cousin Doran who never finished secondary school. But look at him, now he's an important and significant person for the revolution! He has power over life and death. Now he of all people is going to be among those that plan for the future of the people!"

Kadir felt relieved when his thoughts suddenly turned to Fatso. Now he was alone again. "Where are you, the darling of my eye, where are you now with your borrowed pistol?" Kadir had a gleam in his eye as he went out onto the street. In the neighbourhood many of the kids were gathering as usual and Kadir asked Big Head if he had seen Fatso. "He and Blue Eye have gone to portly Osman. Kadir collected Little Brother and Raza and headed for portly Osman's as well, but even before thy got there they saw Blue Eye. Kadir rushed up and took a tight hold of him. "What's with your hero now, where has your pistol gone?" Blue Eye tried to flee but Kadir called after him to stop and Little Brother kicked him in the ass. "Stop, you bastard!" Blue Eye cried and swore to God that he's been deceived: "That idiot told me it was his own pistol. Leave me alone, I'll promise not to be his pal anymore!" "Beat it," said Kadir and kicked Blue Eye who shouted and ran off as fast as he could. Fatso who now appeared knew what awaited him but still tried to defend himself by scaring off Kadir with a shout. "My brother is still a Peshmerga, don't forget that! He'll come down and take revenge on you and your damned family!" Little Brother and Kadir held him down. Kadir beat him and shouted that this is what he had long been dreaming of. "This is for the pistol and this is for the neighbour's girl that you fooled." Portly Osman came on the run when he heard the boys. He got between them and pushed them apart. Fatso ran off crying but turned around and swore that he would take revenge some day.

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At lunchtime everyone gathered at home. Amina was just about to set the table when she heard cousin Omar's voice together with that of Brahem and she put out an extra plate. Kadir could see that his father was not depressed but seemed to be in good spirits. Amina came out from the kitchen and shook hands with Omar and told him he'd come at just the right time since she had just prepared his favourite dish. Omar smiled and thanked her. After eating, tea was served and Amina asked while she was pouring tea into the ornate glasses what had happened to her husband. "He was like a thundercloud when he went out and now he's completely changed. What's happened to you that you're in such a good mood?" "Everyone has been given amnesty, both civilians and the armed Peshmergas. And that means that I've been given amnesty and don't have to be afraid of anything."

The next day Raza woke up at Kadir's house and looked at the clock. He woke him up and whispered at the same time: "I miss Shirin, hurry up or we won't make it!" It wasn't long before the two friends were ready to go out and trot off to school. Raza saw Shirin and his heart pounded mightily from excitement. He caught a good glimpse of her as they slowed down and ceremoniously passed by and he felt his throat dry out. "Kadir, did you see how she greeted me and how she carefully combed her hair and smiled at me, I feel like I'm about to die from joy. Now we can go to school." Kadir was tense and seemed to be uninterested in what Raza felt. He envied him. After getting the nickname "Kadir the suitor" he normally felt tongue-tied when girls were discussed. But Raza insisted and Kadir ultimately gave in. "You have certainly done wonders," said Kadir. "I think she has feelings for you. Otherwise she wouldn't send signals like that."

Raza sat in the classroom without listening to what Hussain the teacher was talking about since he was now totally preoccupied with thinking about Shirin. It was the day's third lecture when a powerful explosion shook the entire school and shooting broke out. Hussain shouted: "Lie down on the floor." Kadir hid under the bench and the other kids did the same. Kadir had no feelings while Raza began to shake like an aspen leaf. Hussain carefully got up, his face looking more yellow than saffron. When the shooting stopped he told the students to be careful. "Go straight home!"

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At just that moment several security policemen stormed into the school. They opened doors by beating and kicking them in and went after the headmaster first. He was given a good beating. The police struck him with their rifle butts and the biggest and strongest of them shouted a question at him: "Do you support terrorists?" It wasn't long before Hussain's entreaties could be heard throughout the whole school as the security policemen began to indiscriminately beat up all those teachers suspected of being favourable to terrorists. Kadir was shocked. He remained standing there and looked on for a while without really understanding what was happening and then ran back to his neighbourhood as fast as he could, accompanied by Raza who then went on to his village. When he got home he was unable to speak from exhaustion. He felt greatly relieved that the house he lived in had not been hit. Everyone had gathered and all were hugging each other while Kadir told them what had happened at school. "The classroom teacher and the headmaster were beaten bloody, they cried out in pain so that the whole school shook!" He related these things with delight and for a long time he could feel a certain amount of enjoyment when thinking of the frightened expression on Hussain's face and his desperate cries for mercy. "Serves them right, getting a taste of their own medicine!"

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The war was on. The Peshmergas got unlimited support from Iran and thousands of dissatisfied young men joined them and the number of Peshmergas increased four-fold in just two months. They grew stronger and stronger and now they moved around freely throughout the liberated zones. Hairless's troops were the terror of everyone and his name was now on everyone's lips. He demanded money from rich people in town and food and medicine were provided by villagers. He roughed up all those who didn't share his opinions and extorted money from them. Some of them couldn't take the pressure and, leaving everything behind them, were driven off to other towns where they joined the militia hoping to be able to take revenge on Hairless. The city became the Peshmergas playground at night, with them coming when dusk fell and fleeing again when the dawn came.

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It was a late afternoon and Amina was visiting at Halima's house and gossiping in the kitchen. Halima was sad and dejected since she had now given up hope of seeing her imprisoned husband released. "Haven't you heard anything about Mahmod?" Halima shook her head: "It's been a long time since we got any letter from him, and the letter we got consisted of two sentences: 'I'm alive and miss you all.'" "Isn't he allowed to write any more?" "It seems so." Amina embraced her sister. "Thank your God," she said, "that he wasn't free during the military coup. If he had been, he'd be in his grave now. He has it good where he is. You needn't worry about him. You have us and Raza, believe me there'll be an end to all this misery some fine day and then he'll return home uninjured, you need only count the days! Tell us whenever you need something. I am your sister." Halima felt relieved but she could not quite get over the unease she felt inside. She beat around the bush as if she had come upon something new. "I'm so worried about my Raza, he isn't eating like he should and he's so absentminded. He misses his papa. I've said several times that we should visit Alan in Baghdad but he just shakes his head. I don't know what I'm to do, what have I done wrong?" Amina looked at Halima with a broad smile on her face. "I've heard he's in love with the neighbour's girl." "Who?" "Shirin, as pretty as the moon, and she comes from a good family. I couldnt help hearing about it when Raza slept over here and they whispered to each other in the evening." Halima lighted up and declared: ""Now I know why he roams around in your neighbourhood, the rascal. He sits there and looks so innocent with his paper and pencils and pretends to be doing his homework. So that's why he was so annoyed when I interrupted him!" Halima felt relieved since she had finally got an explanation for Raza's behaviour. She changed the subject. "I have my heart in my throat every day I wake up and have to send the boy off to school. I can't get away from the thought that something could happen to him." "Yes, things are the way they are. If only we understood why we have to live in this inferno." "There are no answers. Why do all these people have to die?"

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They spoke for a long time and before Amina returned home she hugged her sister. "You are so worried, sister. You can live with us. Kadir and Raza are like brothers. That way he'll skip having to walk so far to school every day. In addition, we have the perfect shelter where we feel safe during any fighting and bomb attacks. We simply laid out mattresses for everybody and we can sleep there if needed. There's plenty of room." Halima didn't want to believe that it would be necessary to move away from home. She declined without thinking about the suggestion any further.

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Brahem's family was awakened by heavy shooting and shelling. They ran to the shelter as fast as they could. Everyone was silent except for Amina who read hymns without stopping in a mumbling and shaky voice. She could herself hardly hear what she was reading. They were lying in the shelter on the mattresses and waited for the shooting to stop. Outside crying and shouts for help could be heard from different places. Brahem's family was very frightened and they all started to worry about who it could be, and if they were friends or relatives. Sirwan asked in a serious tone of voice if anyone had been killed, but Brahem quickly interrupted him: "Quiet now, I want to listen. It sounds like it's coming from Omar's neighbourhood." "Don't say that," Halima said. "God will protect him." She was shaking like an aspen leaf and moved her lips as she rattled off hymn after hymn. Crying and lamentation could now be heard all the more clearly: "Help, papa, ghian (my soul), he's bleeding, he'll die if he doesn't get help! The whole family was wondering as one man who had been killed or injured until Brahem interrupted them all: "Quiet! We'll soon know who it was." The shooting stopped after another hour or so but the lamentations and the loud crying continued and even increased in volume.

The morning came and now only sporadic gunfire could be heard in the distance, but no one in the family dared to go out, including even Kadir who normally went to buy fresh bread from the baker every morning. Two jet fighters appeared over the city. Kadir heard

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the noise of their engines and was curious and wanted to go look at them since he had never seen real fighter aircraft. While he was sitting there on his mattress and wondering what the plane looked like it suddenly discharged its load of bombs. The overpowering noise and force of the explosion when the bomb reached its target was completely unexpected. Window panes shattered and the entire earth shook. Everyone in the family put their hands to their ears, their faces distorted with pain. Kadir's heart beat fast but almost stopped when the next bomb landed in their own yard, judging by the noise. All hell broke out. All of them lay paralysed without being able to let out a sound. Kadir rattled his teeth and Little Brother peed in his trousers. Smoke, dust and pebbles flew all around. For a while they believed that something was burning but they stayed put as they were, not knowing where to go. Heavy gunfire aroused them from the terror that had held them paralysed. Brahem looked at his family and saw Amina's pale face. The shooting was interrupted again and a distant thundering started up instead. Around noontime they began to grow accustomed to the situation and felt a little calmer. They started to chat again. But Little Brother was unusually silent. Gradually, people started to move about, first inside the shelter and then throughout the house. Amina repeatedly hugged Kadir and Sirwan, she sobbed every now and then and her eyes were empty from fear. "My children, my flesh and blood." She talked incoherently and it seemed as if fear had worked its way through her body, bit by bit. It took quite a while before it occurred to her to make something to eat. They sat around a plastic tablecloth in the kitchen, more silent by far than they usually were in the morning and the usual chase around the dining table was completely gone. Kadir just poked around in his food. "I feel sick." "I can't eat anything," said Sirwan. Their parents looked at each other but said nothing. They spent the whole afternoon together in the shelter. Papa Brahem read books and told fairy tales and Kadir and Little Brother played Penj-Penj, a party game where the players try to guess numbers, similar to the childrens game of Battleships.. It wasn't long before it came to crying and shouting between them: "You're cheating," Little Brother called out. "You're the one who's cheating yourself!" Amina rushed to intervene, hugging them both and asking them please not to fight and to try to stick it out. "We have to manage to stay here until it's safe." The two brothers were silent for a short while but after some time they began bawling at each other again.

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After a while they felt safer and dared to go out into the yard, even though they could still hear shooting in the distance: "Papa come look, there are traces of bombs here, holes and stones everywhere! On all of the walls you see small holes from the explosions!" "It'll take several days to repair the damage," said Brahem with a sigh. "But we have lots of time. We don't know what awaits us. Whatever the case, the situation is serious." "What do you mean, papa?" Sirwan asked nervously. "We don't know if the Peshmergas will take the city now or if they'll be forced to leave the city and, if thats the case, military reinforcements will come. What'll happen to us then?" Amina, who had come in from the kitchen, interrupted him: "In any case, our house will be plundered and we'll be forced to flee or to go to prison." Heavy gunfire close by forced them back into the shelter.

For several days and nights they lived in uncertainty. What was heard at night, when everything was calm and quiet, were lamentations from various sources. Silence was interspersed with shooting and shelling. Frequently there was nothing more than a short pause before the thundering started up again. By the time the fourth day came they had begun to grow used to it all, easing up on their fright and moving about a little more freely, at least at night but in the daytime they always stayed in. In each neighbourhood there was a military post guarding the area. In the evenings and at night it was dark and all street lighting was turned off since most of the power lines had been hit. Suddenly footsteps and loud voices were heard in the yard: "Open up, it's a Peshmerga, and we're starving!" The Peshmergas quickly came inside, laid their weapons down and lay down on the first good couch. The kids were curious and sat down around them. They quickly dug into the food put in front of them and it only took a few minutes before everything that had been laid out on the tablecloth had disappeared. "Amina," Brahem shouted, "Get some more!" But just at that moment the shooting started again and everyone but the Peshmergas hurried off to the shelter. When things quieted down the family returned to the living room where the Peshmergas were sitting, quiet and smiling.

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"Where did you go? What are you afraid of? You've practically got a military fortress in your home, you're much safer than most of the others!" Members of the family felt sheepish and laughable and although they were just as afraid as before they tried to hide their fear and asked the Peshmergas to tell them what had happened outside. "We've taken two guard posts, hundreds are dead or injured, unfortunately some civilians too." "Who?" "Nobody we know, they recently moved here from the mountain districts. But I know that Salman Snake-Eye is wounded, but he might make it. He bled a lot and everything will depend on whether or not he survives being transported to Iran. If so, then he'll make it." The poor man, he's the father of eight kids," Amina burst out. "It's war and people are affected." Brahem looked a little surprised. "What are your plans? What do you intend to do? How long will we have to sit locked in like this?" The oldest of the Peshmergas who seemed to have had enough to eat and was satisfied, was combing his moustache with his fingers. His face could be seen clearly in the light of the oil lamp. "They will soon be forced to capitulate." "They can't put up much more resistance," said one of the others. "They have no alternative but to surrender or be killed." "We've been given advanced weapons from Iran and we've also confiscated a lot of weapons." "Are you getting support from Iran?" Amina asked, surprised. "Yes, and not just military support. They take care of our injured there." Amina was a mother who was anxious about her family and she felt that it was too late and that only God could save them. She stood up and sat down with the men in order to take part in the conversation. She was not like her usual self, she was scared and spoke with quivering lips: "Now we're lost and the war has gone too far. What will happen to us before reinforcements arrive? Will you stay here or will you withdraw to the mountains? We're the ones who pay when you flee." The Peshmergas listened and Brahem was irritated, as usual, and tried to get the message across to Amina but she was busy having her say.

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"It's war," said the oldest Peshmerga, "and we're fighting for our rights. What was taken from us with force we'll take back by force." "Do you believe that you can hold your position much longer in town? No, my friend, they're on their way and you'll withdraw and leave us here to our fate, alone against the ravenous wolves!" Brahem went up to Amina and shook her and shouted at her to go out to the kitchen and leave them alone. "Women don't understand anything, don't bother about her. She's afraid of war and killing!" After an hour the Peshmergas left and Brahem was still irritated at Amina and shouted: "Next time keep your mouth shut and don't talk about things that don't concern you, you're disgracing the whole family." Kadir hardly recognised his own family. They were now in the process of losing all the warmth and respect that had always prevailed between them. It worried him a lot to hear his mother talking to herself in the kitchen.

Time passed and sadness and fear were tearing the family apart. They were now quite tired of having to run into and out of the shelter. Frequently they just sat in silence with their nerves on edge, lost in their thoughts. They did not speak very much with each other. Kadir longed for his mates Raza and Ahmad. He long to play freely, to kick a football and he even brought himself to long to go back to school. "The hell with this war," said Sirwan, breaking the silence. "This is the worst I've been through. We're hostages in our own home." "I didn't get a wink of sleep last night," said Brahem. Amina called to Narmin and Little Brother and told them with a serious expression on her face: "You may never tell anyone on the street that strangers were here. Never, do you understand?" "We'll never tell anyone any such thing!" Amina cast a hateful glance at her husband, but Brahem was much too absorbed in his own headache to notice it. A squabble was about to break out in the family when the sky above Halabja was pierced by the thunder of two jet fighters. All of them retreated, head over heels, into the shelter.

The sun had barely risen when hell broke loose in the city. It was the seventh day in a row with fierce fighting and during the night the Peshmergas had been forced to leave the city.

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Military vehicles and tanks poured into town. Soldiers, police and pro-government forces spread out through the city's streets like ants. They searched every house with guns cocked in their hands. Growling and shouting they finally got to Brahem's house as well. "You are terrorist, you've helped Peshmergas, you filthy swine!" The soldiers kicked and hit like savages. They pointed their guns at everyone in the family and one of the soldiers put an automatic weapon to Sirwan's head and shouted that he would kill them all like dogs. "We'll kill you all if you put up any resistance." They threw furniture around, smashed paintings and tread everything to pieces that got in their way. Kadir looked at them and thought that their eyes glowed with fire. A tall and stocky policeman suffered an outburst of madness and beat Brahem bloody until he was lying on the floor. He went on kicking the downed man, shouting all the while. "Don't move, you damned traitor! You don't even have the right to breathe air in our country!" Words rained over the family like grapeshot from a rifle. Kadir sat curled up in a corner together with Little Brother and Narmin. They covered their faces with their arms. Their fright was so overpowering that they were paralysed and couldn't do anything, unable to quite understand what was going on around them.

For years afterwards Kadir would still be able to hear in his inner ear the raucous voices hammering out their hatred and contempt: "You fucking dogs, we'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget for having contact with terrorists!" For over an hour the soldiers humiliated the family with their cries and blows. One of them was big and stocky. With his ferocious dark eyes he had scared the daylights out of many men in his time. With a hefty blow he punched Brahem in the stomach and ordered him to get up before he kicked him out into the yard so that Brahem slipped and cut his face. Sirwan began to vomit and Kadir ran after the soldiers who pushed Brahem into a jeep waiting outside. Brahem tried to get up but was prevented from doing so by a blow across the back of his head. With sad dark eyes, filled with tears, he looked at Kadir who helplessly ran after the jeep before it disappeared in a cloud of dust. Amina ran out into the yard and tore herself in the face so that her cheeks were coloured red. She sank down to the ground and cried uncontrollably.

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The war continued, it waited for no one but just went on, unstoppable. People no longer mourned for their dead as they had otherwise done, they no longer sang the dirges with which the dead had been commemorated since time immemorial. Some could not continue any further and turned off their feelings and ended up in an emotional vacuum. The people of Halabja changed, they were no longer recognisable. A misunderstanding, some little error when dealing with others, a different opinion could lead to brawling and shouting. Tolerance had all but disappeared. Children became punching bags and took their beatings both at home and in school and from older playmates. Many families moved away from the city for good, but most of them stayed since they had nowhere to flee. They prayed to God and waited for peace to come. They got used to living in difficulty, at watching their tongues and weighing their words before they hurled them at others. People knew where the borderline was drawn and avoided exceeding it.

The well-known shooting was heard every day. In the evenings, when dark fell, the same procedure was always repeated, the town was attacked by Peshmergas with Doran and Hairless in the vanguard. At dawn they fled up into the mountains and the entire day afterwards armed policemen and soldiers searched houses. They shouted that they were looking for Peshmergas. Everyone knew what it really was all about and most were prepared to pay them something.

Issa-the-Arab's wrath always calmed down when a few dinars were put in his pockets. The taste of money made him pious like a lamb. Issa-the-Arab was one of them that could tell from the smell of things just about how much each could pay. There were also other policemen who had no other forms of enjoyment in their lives than to scare people and take their money and riches. Everyone in town knew that sometimes at night the sentinels fired around them indiscriminately without being attacked first so that the day afterwards they could rake in twice or four times as much when raiding homes. Not all of the police were like them. Some of them were nice and friendly and this included Black Hussain. He prevented his colleagues from beating up people in order to extort money from them.

Besides the Peshmergas, an armed band of masked bandits grew up for the purpose of robbing one or two families every night. After dark no place was safe. On the roads, travellers were frequently robbed. The robbers set up roadblocks and forced cars to stop, then masked gunmen came out with their guns aimed at the car and everyone got out with

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their hands above their heads. First the car was searched and then the travellers were relieved of their wallets, watches, gold and other valuables. Those who had nothing in particular with them were given a good beating instead.

It was a Sunday morning in the middle of May and a heavy sandstorm was blowing. The city was awakened by heavy droning and noise. Amina looked out the window and could see something astonishing. A thick cloud of dust descended from the sky and hid the sun, which appeared to be dark red. Amina looked for her barmal and said her morning prayers before going out into the kitchen to make breakfast for her family. She couldn't forget the dust cloud outside and mumbled to herself: "This is a sign from God and a warning which might only come once in a lifetime." She called out to her children in order to wake them up. "How can you sleep in all this noise?" No one was interested in hearing what she had to say and they pressed their pillows tight against their heads and ears. When Little Brother heard his mama say that the kids could stay home he threw off his blanket and cried out in joy: "Hurray, we can skip school today." "Right, you rascals," said Amina grudgingly and looked up at the sky. Raza who had slept over with them was by no means happy and cursed the storm for keeping him detained here. He longed to get a glimpse of Shirin on his way to school. By afternoon the storm had calmed down and life returned to normal. The city was covered by thick brown dust and thousands of dead birds were lying all around. Stores reopened and people went out again as usual. Cousin Omar went out and began to catch injured birds and then ran home. On the way he bumped into Halima who was on her way to her sister, Amina. "Where are you going with those birds?" "I'll save the lives of some of them, otherwise they're doomed. The poor things are dropping like skittles." "God be with you," Halima said, continuing on after having put her arm around her cousin Omar. Halima entered without knocking on the door. Amina was happy to see her. "But look at what you look like? I could hardly recognise you! You're covered with dust, your eyelashes and your hair are covered with dust." "Oh," she said, "God will be the death of us with this dust storm." She went out to the bathroom and rinsed her face.

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After three years there was still no word from Brahem. Rumours had it that he and many other Peshmerga supporters were in a secret prison. They were in isolation and were not allowed to have contact with the outside world. At home with Amina, Brahem and Mahmod were always the big topics for conversation. Before Halima sat down in the kitchen she met Raza and Kadir and they hugged each other. She sat down next to Amina and the conversation got started. "Thank your God that he's alive." "How do we know that?" said Amina in surprise, "We haven't had a sign of life out of him." "But Alan is sure that he's in a secret prison where they aren't allowed to meet anyone." "Don't believe everything that's said, my sister. Alan is nave, he bribes those in charge and they're happy to take the money. Alan's good prey for people like that." Amina blushed. "I don't believe you," she said, "this is only a rumour." She started to cry out loud and beat her breast hard. "Will the day come when I can see him again? He isn't alive, no one has heard anything about him, not even those that were released." Halima hugged her sister and consoled her. "Take it easy, sister, God is great, have more patience and don't lose control of yourself in front of your children." Halima was calmer than her sister. Her husband, Mahmod, was held in a prison in the middle of the desert, filled with socialists who had all been seized when the nationalists seized power. He sent a letter every religious holiday, something that made Raza extremely happy and made Kadir sad. Kadir went through many sleepless nights during this period.

Kadir and his classmates were looking forward to the end of the semester in their last year in senior level. The stocky teacher Hussain had been as hard as he had been before and had not changed in any way except that he had gotten older. His way of teaching things was the same as it had always been. His words weighed heavy and many parents showed respect and support for him and his teaching methods. The difference now was that he no longer was as tough on pupils who had one of their relatives with the Peshmergas but he had no problems finding scapegoats and kids to beat.

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It was just after eight o'clock. Raza, Ahmad and Kadir were sitting in the classroom when Hussain came in and everyone stood up for a moment and then sat down again at a sign from the teacher. The students could tell that Hussain wasn't in a good mood. This was easy to discern in his tense face. Who would get the beating today? He looked first at the clock and then got up and began to write notes on the blackboard. Every now and then he asked questions about what he was teaching. There was a deathly silence in the classroom except for Hussain's raucous voice. He wrote something on the board and then turned like lightning towards the classroom and noticed Ahmad's absent gaze. He threw the piece of chalk at him and rushed up to him, shouting: "Can I see if you've written anything?" Ahmad sat in silence without moving. Hussain gave him one slap after another but this elicited no sounds from him. He shouted and stamped on the classroom floor. "I have a lot of idiots in my class, asses, you have no respect for me or for what I'm teaching you. Stupid idiots!" Ahmad lowered his head and hid his face in his arms. The teacher shouted at him so that the classroom shook. "I'll beat all of your fingers to a pulp, sitting pretty, you bastard, I don't want old hags in my classroom." Ahmad sat silent and looked at Hussain. He nailed his gaze firmly to Hussain's eyes and Hussain felt ill at ease being looked at this way. That was the day when Ahmad decided to leave school. He repeatedly said to himself: "He hates me. What does he have against me? What have I done for that idiot to turn my life into such a hell?"

For dinner, they gathered around the kitchen table. Fata made their favourite food, fresh grilled chicken. The smell spread and even the neighbours were jealous of it. After dinner Ahmad sat next to Karim Bey waiting for Fata to serve tea. Karim Bey could tell from Ahmad's eyes that he had something important to say. He turned towards Ahmad, patted him on the shoulders and said in a friendly voice: "You have grown up, Ahmad. Next year you'll start the upper forms. Will you study humanities or science?" "I don't know, Bey," Ahmad answered in a calm voice. "What's the matter with you, Ahmad, are you sick? You don't seem as usual. Is there something you want to tell us?" Ahmad remained silent a while and then responded in a low respectful tone of voice:

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"I can't take it anymore. I want to go to school but Hussain beats me black-andblue every day and makes life hell for me. He is quite a madman, everything I say when he asks questions is wrong even when I'm right. He stresses me so that I'm unsure of myself and don't know what to answer. He calls me an idiot or says I'm brainless. That heathen abuses me as he wishes. Blue Eye left school just for his sake, he was at him almost every day. Ahmad was angry and wrath gleamed in his eye. Karim Bey listened and was surprised, he could hardly recognise him. "Sometimes I get such impulses, I see all black and a few times I thought about hitting back, I'm as big as he is. I'm not a child any longer. I'm just as strong as he is but he treats me like a child. Those that have a Peshmerga in the family don't get the beatings that we do. I've decided not to go there anymore. I want to be a construction worker instead. Fata became uneasy, she came into the living room with a pot of teat and served it. "I heard what you were talking about," she said. "Forget about the teacher, you have less than two weeks left at school, then you can go on to the upper forms. Don't think about him, he's your teacher, he doesn't beat you because he hates you he's doing it so that you learn something." Karim Bey sat in silence, he liked Ahmad very much and looked upon him as his grandchild. "You should study and have a better future. Anyone can become a construction worker, and there's nothing wrong with that. But you will have a better future. You can become an engineer. I don't like the idea of your leaving school. You don't have to worry as long as I'm alive. But I promise I'll speak to him. I like him and I'm surprised when I hear things like that about him." Karim Bey smiled at Ahmad.

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A few days later Halima was visiting with her sister Amina. She was relieved to have had some news of her husband and Amina was happy for her sake. "I pray to God that I too may hear something from my husband, just a few lines written by him would mean so much." Little Brother ran in, chased by Big Head. Amina held him tight and asked what he had done this time.

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"He ruined my new ball," Big Head was crying and stamped his feet, "I want a new ball." Amina twisted Little Brother's ear and tapped her head. "You'll be the death of me!" She turned to Big Head: "Don't cry, little friend, I'll give you some money so you can buy a new ball." Big Head waited impatiently while Amina took out her wallet and gave him one hundred fils from it. "I'll deduct every fils from your weekly allowance," she said and pushed aside Little Brother who was crying and added: "God in heaven knows that I was not the one who ruined his ball, he's lying, the bastard, I swear by the Koran that it wasn't me!" Little Brother sobbed and cried. Amina gave him a kick. "Leave other people's belongings alone, calm down for once at least, for God's sake!" Little Brother ran to Kadir's room and Amina raised a finger at him as a warning. "Belay there! I don't want any more trouble at home, what are you doing in his room? Go immediately to your own room!" Her voice was hard and tense. "Fucking old bag!" whispered Little Brother semi-audibly, going to his room. Halima liked Little Brother very much and said in a kind voice: "Please, Amina, leave him alone!" Amina gave in and went out into the kitchen. "You don't know, Halima," she said, "I can't put up with him any more. My home has been turned into a police station. Every day someone comes and complains about him, for having done this or for having done that. I don't know what I'm to do and where I should turn." Halima consoled her. "He's nice deep down inside, he'll be better when he gets big!" "May God's will be done," sighed Amina and went out into the kitchen to make tea. "These are some pastries that I baked yesterday!" "Tea will do, but then again, let me taste a few of them," said Halima, suddenly sounding happy. When the women had made their tea and put Amina's pastries on the table they then sat down and enjoyed themselves swapping the latest gossip with each other. "Don't you know what's happened here in your own neighbourhood? Something everyone's talking about! Halima stopped and cast a purposeful gaze out the window."

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"No, tell me!" "From what I heard there was quite a fight around here. The butcher's youngest daughter was to marry Fox Eye with her parents' consent. Everyone in the neighbourhood knows that they like each other." "What happened?" "Fox Eye got a letter from the butcher's nephew, Nazmi, where he wrote that, unless Fox Eye backed out he'd be bathing in his own blood. Nazmi himself had been planning to marry the girl, who's his cousin." Halima went on after a short pause for effect: "Fox Eye got scared and went to the butcher and said that he wanted to back out of the marriage since he couldn't challenge an armed person. The butcher was in a frenzy. He lost control of himself and gave Fox Eye such a beating like he'd seldom seen before, throwing him out of his house and shouting after him so that everyone could hear it: "A woman in a man's clothing! What kind of a son-in-law is that, nothing but a cowardly bastard, a real louse, going back on his word for such a reason." "I feel sorry for Fox Eye," Amina said, "He wanted to marry and he didn't want to have any bloodbath. Now he sneaks around the corner like an injured dog without saying hello or stopping. Completely white in the face. God only knows if he eats. Amina shook her head and Halima nodded and said: "The times are getting worse and worse. When idiots like Nazmi bear arms, we can just thank our God that we're not standing in the way!" "I'll just say one thing," said Amina, "I don't like those people who separate two hearts in love. What does that jerk Nazmi have to offer, the only thing he can do is kill and scare people." "They say," said Halima, "that his daughter hasn't eaten for a week either and that she said she intends to burn herself to death if she can't marry Fox Eye. She's said she'll take her own life just like the neighbour's girl who hanged herself when her papa forced her to marry because he was supposed to get a concubine from the bridegroom's family. The butcher's daughter has sworn to God that even if there was only one man left on earth and that man was Nazmi, then she'd still not want to marry him. 'I'll marry a dog but not that stupid idiot Nazmi' she said in front of others and said that she'd appeal to the leader of the Peshmergas to do something about the matter." "Did she say that! That's a brave girl!" "Yes, that's what she said. But do you think anyone is listening to her? For those people Nazmi is worth gold. A brave man that can kill without fearing." "No, I don't think so. Those damned cubs with their big weapons on their back! What kind of leaders do you think we have! Look at Hairless, when he moved into the

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neighbourhood he didn't even have food to eat for the day now he has several cars and a big house near the border. He who organises all the smuggling and forces people to pay him!" "It's not just Hairless," said Halima, "who has the possibility of stealing fortunes for himself, most of the guerrilla leaders do it. Just look at cousin Doran, he's gathered a small fortune." "Jerks do the work," said Halima, "and the wolves eat up the fruits!"

Cousin Omar knocked on the door and the sisters got up and welcomed him. Omar declined politely since he was in a hurry. "I'm going to Baghdad tomorrow to visit Alan. Is there anything you need or want to send along with me, I'm coming back in the evening?" "God be with you!" Halima looked at the clock and saw that it was late. "I must hurry home." But just when she got up she stopped herself. "I came for one thing and I shouldn't forget it, I was thinking about Raza. Nowadays accidents fall from the heavens like rain and I'm worried about my son. It's a long way to school for him." Amina interrupted her. "I like Raza as if he were my own son. There's plenty of space here and I think he should move in with us for a while." At the same moment Little Brother snuck into the kitchen. He grabbed a few pieces of flat bread and a little meat and rushed off with quick steps to the outskirts of the city where he had found a few puppies. Amina was furious and called after him. "That disobedient shit will be the death of me!" The two women couldn't help laughing when they saw how Little Brother disappeared around the corner. "It's almost evening," said Halima, "I must hurry home."

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After five years Raza still loved Shirin from a distance and he wanted to catch a glimpse of her every day. He worshipped her in his thoughts and felt warm around the heart when he thought of her soft gleaming gaze. Shirin had long black hair, big pitch-black eyes and a pretty sunburned face. Raza now felt that he had to act and therefore took the first step

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in her direction. He wrote a love letter to her and got the letter through to Shirin via Narmin. For Raza the waiting was pure torture and entailed many sleepless nights of stress. He waited for Shirin's answer and lived with his heart in his throat. In the evenings before falling asleep thoughts occurred to him that were coloured with disappointment and anxiety: "Who knows, maybe she'll give me away! Think if the whole town talks about me? Think if others read my letter? What will I say to my mates? They will never leave me alone. Fatso would laugh at me and tease the life out of me if he knew." Raza moped by himself and mumbled: "It's been two weeks and I haven't got any answer yet, how long should I wait, there's something fishy about this. Imagine, if I'm exposed, what will people say about me? Her family will lose face and she won't be able to appear in public. Everyone will come and gossip and speak ill of them." Raza wondered why love was something so forbidden in these parts. Why couldn't one talk about these feelings? What was wrong with people? Their daughter or sister fell in love with someone before they married. Why did this become such a struggle for life and death?" Raza was in a fix, he had made his move and now he was being torn between hope and despair. "How in the world will a bumpkin like me ever be able to catch such a beautiful bride?"

Raza became more and more depressed, he kept at home and lay in bed most of the time. But then one day Narmin came and had a letter for him from Shirin, Raza was red in the face, his heart beat fast and he shook all over. His blood boiled with excitement, he forgot what he should say and was left speechless when he was supposed to thank Narmin. He wanted to laugh and shout aloud, share his joy with everyone else when he had finished reading the letter. He was loved and wanted to put his arms around the whole world. Imagine, seeing her moon-like face from up close. To be met with a pretty smile and her gaze, as he now understood, this was something he could live on for a long time!

The evening when he first met her after he got the letter was the most difficult one he had ever gone through. His stomach was upset and his arms and legs were without any energy. He thought he would faint, the first time he could look into her dark eyes

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sparkling of joy. Raza wanted to shout, sing, jump and soar up into the sky with the lovely birds. From that day on love grew between them but only a few people knew about it. Every day Raza woke up early and prepared his dream trip to school. Before leaving the house he looked at himself in the mirror several times and used the most expensive cream to grease his hair. Halima poked fun at him: "What are you up to, do you think a princess is waiting for you?" He was happy and didn't care what she said. He was so preoccupied that he didn't even hear her. He would rush out and with infinite joy he would look forward to another day when he could meet Shirin. Everything was beautiful in his eyes - roads, trees, the brush, the birds and the people.

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Saturday was always the day when the entire school gathered in the yard, the classes stood next to each other around the yard and each teacher checked his class concerning hygiene, seeing if nails had been cut or if hands were dirty. The pupils held out their hands. Ahmad stood in the first row. Hussain came from the last row and inspected everyone very thoroughly. Sometimes he stopped, every now and then cries were heard when he beat down on someone with his thick cane. When he came up to Ahmad he stopped and stared at him for a long time. "You have dirty hands. Why haven't you cut your dirty nails, have you forgotten them?" He sneered: "I see dirt under your long nails, don't you see it yourself, you devil?" He suddenly became angry and raised his voice: "I'll teach you to show respect for the school," he shouted, giving Ahmad a slap. No one had time to grasp it before it had happened. Ahmad butted him with his head, as quick as a dart. It came so hard and unexpected that Hussain fell over backwards. Ahmad kicked him in the face several times and his classmates looked on, none of them considering intervening. Chaos broke out in the yard and this was Ahmad's rescue. The headmaster came running and shouting. "Hold that bastard until I get there!" Ahmad bolted as fast as he could for the fence, climbed up on it and sat there for an instant and then shouted triumphantly. Several students ran after him and pretended to try to capture him but they were happy about what had happened. Ahmad ran as fast as he could.

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"You bastards, I've taken revenge on that bastard, I promise to kill him and you too, you bastard." This last curse was for the headmaster. The whole school now stood still and just looked on, shocked and in disbelief that something like this had really happened. It didn't take long before the headmaster alarmed the police and the latter drove directly to Karim Bey's house and searched it but there was no Ahmad there to be found and so they turned back. The police returned empty handed and the headmaster became even angrier. He was close to losing control over himself. "Haven't you apprehended him?" "No, but we will, even if he hides in a snake pit!" The headmaster cut them off: "What kind of stupidity is that, he isn't hiding in a snake pit, he's in the village, search at Mahmod's, Raza's papa. All of the disobedient kids gather there, and the hooligans." The police officer became irritated at the headmaster. "What's happened has happened at your school, why couldn't you apprehend him? We can't risk our lives to capture a little boy. We can't drive to the village, imagine if the Peshmergas had set up a trap there for us, or if they're in the village, can you guarantee our safety? We have family and children, we don't intend to risk anything. If you know that he's there, you can go there yourself and get him." The police officer was furious at the headmaster, he left the room and slammed the door behind him so hard that the wall behind him quivered. He went towards the teacher's room to question Hussain about what had happened.

Ahmad ran to the village and Halima took him in. "What has happened to you?" she asked nervously. "Come in now, my son, you can stay here until you've calmed down and I'll see what I can do." Halima was well liked by many of the kids and Ahmad was among them, he thought that she was always friendly and that she spoke a polished language that always moved him. "Don't be afraid, I'll protect you as if you were my own child." Ahmad was restless and couldn't sit still. he spoke incoherently and the least little sound aroused his fears. Halima detected the worry in his eyes and tried to calm him down. "Listen, Ahmad, you needn't be afraid, no one can find you here." She showed him a little room hidden behind a bookcase. "Go in there, calm down and relax now. Tell me what happened."

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"I knocked the teacher down, Hussain. for years I've been taking a beating from him, almost every day. That man made my life hell. Today I got beaten while we had assembly." Ahmad told the story and now there was force in his voice: "He hit me and suddenly I exploded without knowing what I was doing, I just saw a man lying there and I kicked him in the face until blood flowed." Ahmad stopped talking but then he continued in a low voice: "Believe me, it was he that hit me first!" Halima sat in silence and looked at him for a long time before she said anything. "I believe you, that man is not quite normal, I've heard from Raza that he hits people for the slightest reason. But now you're in quite a fix. I'll go to town and meet your mother. We'll have to see what we can do. Don't be nervous, we'll find some solution."

When Halima and Fata came back to the village Ahmad was no longer there, they looked in all possible places without being able to find him. Fata beat her breast: "May God take your life, teacher bastard, if you've ruined my child's future!" Ahmad's old anger and bitterness overcame him, he ran and he found strength in his own steps. He had decided to become a Peshmerga. Ahmad knew the area well and by evening he had gotten to the village of Hawar and asked for the chieftain Sami, an acquaintance of Karim Bey's. He was a friendly elderly man who had difficulties seeing and hearing as well. He stood up when Ahmad came and shook hands with him and said in a friendly manner: "Feel like you're at home." He turned to the kitchen. "Make something good. Karim Bey's relative is here for a visit."

According to the customs in these parts, a guest is only asked after three days for what business he has come. And when Sami after three days asked, Ahmad answered in a determined tone of voice: "I want to become a Peshmerga, I'll wait for them until they come here some day." The chieftain didn't hear a word of what Ahmad said. "What did you say?" he asked and turned to his daughter. "He wants to be a Peshmerga!" the daughter shouted out loud. "Peshmerga!" he burst out and shook his head. "Does your family know about this? You are young and have your entire life ahead of you. To become a Peshmerga is

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like taking your own life. I'll accompany you home, your people at home must be worried and are certainly waiting for you." "I thank you for your friendliness, but I must go on. I'll never come back," said Ahmad with determination,. "I'll become a Peshmerga, I'll bet my life on it. I'll stay here this evening and tomorrow I'll be off." "Don't go," interrupted the chieftain, "They come here often, you are welcome to wait for them if that's what you want, feel at home, my home is yours." "I'll never forget what you have done," said Ahmad in a respectful tone of voice. He stayed silent and then said: "I have one more request. I don't want my mother to know, otherwise she'll soon be with me, I want to spare her the misery."

A day later Captain Doran came, his men trailing him one by one. They brought along several injured Peshmergas and a dead man on the back of a mule. Captain Doran headed for the chieftain's house where he was given a good welcome. When he had sat there and stared at Ahmad for a long while he said somewhat surprised: "Aren't you Ahmad, Fata's son?" "Yes, I am," said Ahmad quietly. Doran went up to him and they shook hands. "Tell me, what are you doing here?" "I'm waiting for you people. I beat my teacher bloody and I'll land in gaol if he doesn't kill me first." Doran was hesitant. "You're only sixteen years old, you're still a kid." Hairless came in. "Don't be so sure, Captain, we need people like that. He's young and has no fear in his body. I want him for my gang." Captain Doran stared at Hairless and looked surprised. "Someone who stuck a scissors in the tailor and knocked a teacher down can make a brave Peshmerga," Hairless claimed. Doran shook his head. "I don't know what to say, he's so young but I'll take him in to test him out." He called to a Peshmerga to give Ahmad their martyr's automatic rifle. "Yes, Captain Doran." Ahmad's eyes gleamed with joy when he bore a weapon for the first time; he felt he had boundless strength in him. Ahmad had a feeling of relief mixed with pride, he was complete with the weapon in his hand.

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At the burial grounds the entire village gathered and interred the dead Peshmerga. Everything took place in silence and everything went off quickly and mechanically, with no crying or keening. Ahmad had his weapon with him and he saw that the dead man was covered with sand. He carried his weapon on his shoulder and he felt it emitting impulses that went through his entire body. "Don't worry, I'll take revenge for you too!" he said to himself quietly.

The weapon was dusty and dirty from stale blood and one of Hairless's men showed him how to take it apart and to clean and lubricate it. "We'll test fire a few shots. I'll show you how to hold the rifle when you fire." It only took a little while for Ahmad to master this art. Before he lay on his mattress that same evening, he stared at his automatic rifle hanging on the wall opposite him and dreamed of taking revenge on his father's murderer, on the tailor Otman, on the teacher and on the headmaster.

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In the next few days rumours about Ahmad had reached town and Fata was so disconsolate that she remained bedridden. Karim Bey was depressed and cursed the damned teacher. He felt regret for having talked Ahmad into staying in school. In the neighbourhood the boys gathered and the mood among them was mixed. Kadir was happy and excited and mentioned his childhood friend with delight. "Ahmad is a Peshmerga now, he bears a real weapon." "He is the least of them all," said Raza while Fatso was being a tease as usual and contradicted the others: "That's a lie, he's only a kid. The Peshmergas might have some use for him, but he's only their little errand boy." Kadir became indignant and pushed Fatso over. "How do you know, you bastard, are you deaf? The whole town is talking about him. I'm warning you! I'll cut your throat if you say a bad word about him."

School was closed, Hussain was on sick leave and hardly went out. He sat at home, immersed in shame for having been beaten by a mere kid. He could hardly raise his head and look people in the face. His wife and children were afraid of him due to his sudden outbursts of anger when he flew into a rage for some minor thing and beat them. The neighbours had come to their assistance and saved them from his violence many times.

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Hussain became less and less like himself. He was worried about Ahmad's revenge on him and his family. A few weeks after the incident in the schoolyard he applied to be transferred to another school and moved to Suleimaniya together with his family.

Black Nasim who had murdered Ahmad's father was terrified by the news about Ahmad and could no longer sleep at night. He lived with one hand on his heart and waited for the day when Ahmad would come to seek revenge for his father. Nasim could not take the stress and fled to Baghdad with his family. And the tailor Otman was scared but he did not have enough money to leave town but instead frequently spoke of Ahmad. "He'll go far," Otman bragged. "That boy has a spark in his eyes. I've never seen the likes of it that anyone is as fearless as that. He attacks standing up and bullets rain down on him. My lion has a guardian angel on his shoulders and the bullets don't hit him." Otman visited Fata several times a week and asked her if she needed anything. "God only knows that I liked him as much as if he were my son, now you should be proud of him, not just you but the whole town, he's the youngest Peshmerga in the entire region. My boy is an eagle! You should know, Fata, that every evening and every day I pray to God to protect him."

Fata missed Ahmad very much and every day she heard new rumours about him. One day he was said to be the leader of a group and another day he was said to have been slightly wounded. Her heart was on the verge of bursting. Fata could not go on being bedridden for much longer, having to hear people talking about the apple of her eye. When she couldn't take it any longer she headed for the mountains. After a few days she reached the Peshmerga base. There she looked for her son and asked everyone she met if they knew where he was. Ahmad caught a glimpse of her among all the men dressed in brown and green fatigues. He rushed up to her and shouted: "What are you going here, mother?" Fata burst out in tears and embraced him and kissed his head. "How did you manage to get here?" Ahmad's voice sounded worried and irritated. Fata sat down and drew her shawl tighter around her. "You are my only child, I'll die if something happens to you!" "Don't worry, nothing will happen to me, just go back home!" "How can you say that? This is nothing less than pure suicide. Every battle is like cold steel in my breast. I can't manage living all the time in uncertainty if you're dead or alive, my heart won't stand it, you have to give back your weapon and come home with me."

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"It's out of the question, I have nothing left at home and I don't care about school and the building contractor. Things have gone well for me here and Captain Doran is sure that I have a better future as a Peshmerga than I would have if I wasted my time in school. I have my place here and I'm not afraid of anything. My future is here, now go home, mama! You can't convince me so it's not a good idea to try."

It got late. Fata felt extremely tired and hungry, she tried getting up but couldn't do so. Ahmad called to a young Peshmerga to get something edible for her. They ate their lunch in silence. Ahmad looked worried and appeared thinner than usual. His uncombed black hair curled up on his head. It was Fata that broke their silence. "Now I'll go home again. It's not a good idea for me to stay any longer. We won't get anywhere but you should know that one fine day you'll be your mother's death." Fata sounded very sad. Ahmad was silent and hung his head as if he hadn't heard what she said. "You ungrateful boy, I who carried you for nine months in my belly and bore you and brought you up, I sacrificed everything for you. Fata had tears in her eyes. "This is the way you thank me, with this worry and fright, not knowing if and when you get wounded or killed. With eyes full of tears Fata left her son and turned back towards her home.

34

Kadir had kept to himself for several weeks now. Either he was completely silent or he spoke in a brief and aggressive tone, something that unsettled Raza and Kadir's relatives. Raza had already told them several weeks back that Kadir was acting funny and was not like his usual self. "Something's on his mind, I don't know what, he stays out of the way and keeps to himself. He gets angry and irritated over the tiniest little things. Amina has said that I shouldn't worry and that there's nothing wrong with him. She says that it's something that will pass and that he's only being sensitive and misses his papa."

For months Kadir had waited to become an adult and now he had taken the first step, his wish had come true and he had got both a moustache and very thick facial hair growth that he shaved at least once a day. He was in a hurry to enter into adulthood. He looked at himself in the mirror and said to himself, satisfied and smug:

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"This is starting to be a real moustache." And soon he had proof of his manliness. With an unusual expression on his face he went to the bathroom every morning to shave. "Oh, now," Amina said, jokingly and with some pride and warmth in her voice, "We've a man in the house!" Kadir didn't answer but it was obvious that he was proud of her choice of words. Amina lifted her face up to the sky and shielded her eyes from the strong sunlight with one of her hands. "Where are you, Brahem?" she said to heaven and then turned back to Kadir. He had been so proud that day. Suddenly the gleam in her eye evaporated as if she had been reminded of something. "What are you happy about, do you know what awaits you, my son?" Kadir froze at the seriousness in her voice. "Have you forgotten what it means to become an adult? What fate awaits you? Growing up is dangerous nowadays. A boy becomes equipped with a few strains of hair on his chin and suddenly he has to confront innumerable problems. If he's going to cope with life he has to choose between being a Peshmerga and doing his military duty." She sighed deeply but quickly regretted her words and put out her hands. "We will live for today, we don't care about tomorrow! I should be happy for your sake. The most important thing is that there is happiness in my son's eyes."

Kadir went out and stayed away until late in the afternoon. When he came home he was silent and looked very sad. "Mahmod has sent another letter home, he said bitterly. Papa has been imprisoned for more than three years and we still have not had any word of him, we don't even know if he's alive. I swear to God that I'll take revenge if anything has happened to him!" Amina cut him off. "You shouldn't say that, I get scared when I hear the word 'revenge.' It can also lead to even more misery." Kadir sighed deeply and quickly held back the tears welling up in his eyes. "I miss him and I get so scared when I hear the owl hoot," he said, alluding to an old Kurdish superstition that hearing an owl means that one will lose a close relative. "I think that he's the one I'm going to lose. I think almost every day of the day when they took him away from us. It's so unjust that we don't have our papa with us." Amina couldn't hold back the tears running down her cheeks.

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"We all miss him, me too, you should know, regardless of how many arguments we had. Brahem was quick to anger but then it passed and just as quickly he became like a lamb. But it feels horrible that we were arguing just before they came and took him away, but I know somewhere that he'll come back, he hasn't done anything wrong, he has a good heart and everyone can see that. Don't worry, my son, I know he'll come back." "Of course I'm glad that Mahmod is alive, that's not it, but I want to hear something about my papa too." "Naturally. Halima and Raza are happy to have got good news. It doesn't hurt us, on the contrary, I feel happy for their sake. Soon it'll be our turn, I know it, I have a feeling inside that we'll be hearing from papa sometime soon and that any day now there could be peace and he can come home." "How do you know that?" "I just know it," she said in a convinced tone of voice. "I believe in God. He doesn't leave us by ourselves. Don't worry, my son, believe me when I say that right now he is sitting somewhere and thinking of us. He longs for us, don't forget that, son," she said softly. "Only Allah is more power than anyone else and He is on our side. I haven't missed a prayer for as long as I can remember!"

It was evening and dusk was falling. Kadir lay in bed and stared at his fathers picture hanging on the wall. He thought of him and hope swelled up inside him. "Is he living, will he be released?" He stared at the stars in the nighttime sky outside his window. They were his silent and loyal friends who listened to him. He abandoned himself into their hands and found strength in fantasies about liberating his father from prison.

As every other time, Raza slept over in the same room with Kadir. The boys used to chat before going to bed for the night. Raza's thoughts were occupied with Shirin who absorbed all of his energy. His love for her was his rescue but it became a burden for Kadir who was always being interrupted in his thoughts. "What are you thinking about, Kadir?" asked Raza late one night. "You know what I'm thinking of," said Kadir, "Why do you ask?" "I'm only worried that you aren't your old self any more, you hide from me and it doesn't feel right. We are cousins but we have always been like brothers and now you are drawing away from me, what have I done?" "Nothing, I just want to be alone," Kadir answered. "What's wrong with you?"

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Kadir suddenly became annoyed and the words rolled out of him in an angry voice. "I get so annoyed when I hear you harping on Shirin all the time, you are so occupied with that ridiculous love story that isn't even a love story. Do you think the whole world is made up of just you and Shirin? Something is always happening but you can't see anyone but yourself. Both of our papas are sitting in prison, innocent, but I don't even know if mine is dead or alive! But don't worry, there's nothing wrong with me. I just get so tired of you when you constantly ask every time 'What are you thinking about?' You know what I'm thinking about so why do you ask all the time?" Kadir pulled himself away and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'm not like you, I have only my own thoughts, if I can't think, which is my only way out, then everything seems senseless. I don't know why I should be alive at all, it seems almost just as good to die! What kind of a damned life is it to suffer your way through? No one wants to listen to me or understand what I feel. I have nowhere to turn. There isn't even a girl who's in love with me. Who can help me with that? Sometimes I wish I didn't exist, I long to be like Ahmad and bear arms" He stopped talking and then burst out: "Or to throw myself into the river Sirwan to put an end to everything!" Raza couldn't say anything. At first he was afraid but then he became enraged. "You humiliate me in your home and what do you mean that I'm not like you?" "I never heard you mention your papa, it's as if he didn't exist, but Shirin, you mention her every day." "What do you mean by that? So you think about your papa in prison but I don't!" Kadir sat silent and Raza was red in the face and felt he had been unjustly singled out, he was both sad and angry and the words simply came out by themselves. "You think about your papa in prison, but I don't, is that the way you think it is? I don't have a picture of my papa! I was three years old when he was banished and imprisoned. We were together a short period of time and now he is in prison again while you had your papa the whole time. If only you know how envious I was of you. I needed a papa and I missed him." He stopped but then continued: "What do you think," shouted Raza. "Is it a contest to see who mourns the most? Obviously I think of my papa and feel sorry for him." "Do you think I don't know what goes on in your head," Kadir said. "You deserter, you have only her in your head, nobody else." "That's unjust," Raza shouted back, "I also think about my papa." The tears welled up in his eyes.

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"No, you don't at all!" All this yelling and shouting woke Amina up, she having gone to bed early. She rushed with all the others in the house into Kadir's room. Amina went up to Kadir. "Watch yourself," she said in a sharp tone of voice. "What did you do with Raza?" Raza was on his way out but Amina held him back. "You won't set your foot outside of my house, or you'll get shot!" She took a handkerchief out of her pocket and dried her tears and then hugged him. "Sit down," she said and called out to Kadir who was on his way to the bathroom. "See what you've done, apologise immediately! I don't want to hear any more squabbling here tonight. Apologise to Raza, at once! Sometimes you're worse than your Little Brother." Kadir went slowly up to Raza to shake hands but the Raza felt hurt and did not want to do so, instead he went to bed. Amina stayed on for a while and consoled Raza and then left again.

Kadir was surprised by Raza's reaction and could not quite get away from the suspicion that all of it was just a game on Raza's part. It wasn't long before Raza went to sleep while Kadir was trapped in his thoughts and turned over and over uncomfortably. He saw in front of him how unknown people abused him and he felt unhappy and misunderstood. Life was murky and he consistently had bad luck. Raza had everything, despite the fact that his papa was in prison, the latter was alive and wrote letters. And then too he had Shirin. His heart ached when Kadir thought of the beautiful neighbour's girl Susan that he did not even dare write to.

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A few days later Amina was to go out together with Narmin to visit Halima. Just as she was about to go, there was a knock on the door. She greeted the postman and took possession of a government letter with Arabic writing. Amina who couldn't speak Arabic gave the letter to Kadir whose heart beat all the faster and who went pale in the face as he tore open the envelope and browsed through the typed text. Worried, Amina saw how he tensed up and how tears welled up in his eyes. "What is it?" Kadir threw the letter in front of him and rushed out to the garden, crying and shouting.

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"Papa is dead!" Amina stood completely still like a statue. Then she beat her breast, tore her hair and let out a desperate moan. It was not long before the neighbouring women came running, having heard the shouting. They soon joined in her crying and keening and funeral songs were heard coming out of the family's house the entire day.

The news hit the town like a bomb. Brahem became the main subject of conversation in Halabja. Everything revolved around him and his tragic death! The family had not been expecting this news. They had been given to believe that he was alive but had always been afraid of this day since it had always been understood that such a message about Brahem could come at any time. When that day finally came, people lined up to visit them and show their sympathy. Rumours spread and everything revolved around Brahem and the Arabic letter. "What happened?" "Do you know what happened? Poor Brahem, the unfortunate man. He's dead now. It came as a surprise." "No, it was expected. Not a single soul had seen him alive since the day when they took him away. They lived in the hope that he was alive and would some day perhaps be amnestied and released. But now he's dead and buried." "The letter said that he died of a heart attack six months ago, the letter was signed by the commander of the guard and they sent a doctor's statement. Brahem is buried in a secret place in order not to arouse unnecessary concern." "Who can believe the authorities.. They lie up to their ears. Heart attack, it's all bullshit, they tortured him to death. Why would they otherwise hide the body. Poor Amina and the kids. They don't even have a grave to visit." "The letter is just a formality. For three years Alan has been bribing police and officials to get information, they practically live off him. The entire time they accepted money and claimed that Brahem was alive and comfortable in prison. All in order not to lose a good source of income." "What a fate, such a shock for the family." "Money couldn't buy Brahem's life back, they tried but it was all in vain."

Kadir ran through the city without seeing or hearing. He felt neither the sweltering heat nor his own thirst and hunger. He was on his way out to the villages nearby. Kadir had lost contact with himself and with the world. He ran a considerable distance and then stopped, short of breath and crying at the wayside. He poured dirt over himself.

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"I promise that I'll take revenge for him, I'll destroy the whole country. I'll ruin them, kill everything alive, even trees and plants. I swear to God that I'll become a Peshmerga and take revenge!" The rage boiled inside him and, beside himself, he repeated the monotonous words: "Revenge, Peshmerga, revenge, Peshmerga." Only towards evening and after about five hours of hiking did Kadir get to the village. The villagers came up to him and, as soon as they saw him, they knew that something was wrong, he looked dejected and dehydrated. An old woman came up to him and said in a soft and friendly voice: "What are you doing here, son, have you got lost?" Kadir was silent but could not hold back the tears and the woman understood that something was wrong. "Come in, son, and sleep over with us! Tomorrow you can go where you want." Kadir nodded and burst out crying. He went with his head bowed behind the old woman and hid his face with his arms.

Before they entered the house the old woman called out: "We have a guest, make something to eat and drink! Everybody come!" She turned to Kadir and took him to a mattress in the living room." "Sit down, my son." The whole family gathered around him. "What's your name, son? Where do you come from and what brought you here?" The old woman looked sympathetic. "Kadir. I come from Halabja and am the son of Brahem" "Are you the son of Brahem and Amina?" The woman pressed her teeth together and her eyes gleamed. "Amina is like a sister to me. Several years ago we lived near Halabja, but then we were driven away from our village because of the fighting and now we live here. How are your parents?" Tears once again began to stream down Kadir's dirty cheeks. "They killed my papa. And I'm out to revenge him." "What do you say, son?" she said. "You'll break your mother's heart! Tomorrow my old man will bring you back home. Son, don't do anything that you'll later regret! What is done is done and your papa is in Paradise. God will forgive him, he was a kindhearted man."

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Kadir hardly heard what she said. Exhausted, he collapsed and fell into a heavy and dreamless sleep.

The next morning he awoke and saw that the family had got breakfast together. He washed his face with cold water and sat down next to the others around the cloth in the middle of the room. The older woman turned to him and said firmly but politely: "I think you should go back home and go today. My old man has errands to run in the neighbouring village and will take you there with his mule. From the neighbouring village you can then get home by car. We won't leave you by yourself. Do as I say before your mother dies of sorrow. You can't do that to her, your place is with her in your grief." Kadir was silent and sat with his head bowed. He felt that he was becoming a nuisance and didn't wish to hear anymore. He was completely empty inside. "I have to leave, I'm going to become a Peshmerga." The farmer came home and the woman whispered in his ear: "He still wants to get to the Peshmerga base and he'll never find his way if he goes alone, he will surely get lost." The farmer looked at Kadir. "We can't let him go alone, if that's where he's going I'll accompany him." Kadir felt pressured. "That's not necessary, I'll find the way myself." "Out of the question," the farmer answered. "Over my dead body will you take that hike alone. You are a guest in my home and therefore you're like a member of the family. Now listen to me." He raised his voice: "I'll lose face with people if something happens to you. I'll go with you, that's all there is to it." The old woman hugged Kadir and he kissed her hands. Tears formed in the woman's eyes and she said she would pray for him. "May God be with you." She turned to her husband. "You won't make it without the mule. The boy isn't used to the mountains and he's already totally exhausted. She held out a bundle of food for them.

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It was late afternoon in Baghdad when Alan got Omar's telegram. He was on his way home and was so shocked that he forgot to lock up his store. One of the neighbours called out to him in Arabic:

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"Where are you going, Alan, aren't you going to lock up your store?" Alan turned around to lock up and then quickly continued on home. He was stopped by a police car once and was close to losing his licence but a neat little sum of money came to his rescue. When Merem heard a car parking in front of the door she quickly went out to see who it was. She immediately understood that something horrible had happened when she saw Alan's dejected expression. "We'll drive to Halabja," he said, "Brahem is dead." Merem started and began to moan in despair. Their daughter Bery and their little son Awat gathered around her with fright in their faces. "Mama, what's happened?" "We haven't time for crying and mourning now," said Alan in a sad voice, pack up the most necessary things, we must go to Amina!"

It wasn't long before they were all seated in the car with Alan driving towards Halabja. It was completely quiet in the car except for the sound of the motor and the sound of cassettes playing with the singer Abdulbasts voice singing verses from the Koran in such a beautiful voice that all of them were moved and listened without speaking with one another. Alan had tears in his eyes and was on the verge of bursting out crying. He and Brahem had always had different views and could almost never agree, they were like two sides of a coin. He reproached himself for not having done enough for Brahem and this made him feel partially responsible for what had happened. He had not been entirely serious in his attempts to locate Brahem and now it was too late. He drove with his thoughts far away when Merem cried out in fright: "Watch out, for God's sake, we were almost squashed by a lorry, where are you actually? Are you going to risk your life and your family's life? We could have taken a taxi if you can't manage driving." Alan stopped the car on the side of the road. "I don't know," he said, "I have difficulties concentrating and can't stop thinking about Brahem and my sister, what a tragic fate! I'll try to drive better. He got back behind the wheel and they approached Suleimaniya. "Should we stay here and drive to Halabja tomorrow?" It was Merem who broke the silence. "No, I have to be with her and with the help of God we'll be there in an hour." "As you wish." They drove on and only had a little ways to go when Merem cried out so loud that the children woke up.

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"Look, a roadblock!" Alan braked but too late and the car bumped into the barrier, which was damaged. Three armed and masked men stood at the side of the road with their hands on their automatic rifles, which they now aimed at the car. "Get out, fast!" shouted one of the men. Merem began to bawl. Bery was so frightened that she went in her clothes. "Get out! We're not going to kill you, we have family and children like you. Don't be afraid! We only want to talk with you. Nobody will get hurt if you do as we say." When one of the men recognised Alan he was beside himself with delight. "Listened, you guys, we've stopped a rich ogre, what a juicy catch!" "This is mister Alan, a businessman from Baghdad." "Welcome, the apple of my eye," said another, "We like you so much, you wealthy man!" The whole family held each other and the children held on to their parents. "Hurry up, search the car!" "There's neither gold nor jewellery in the car," said one of the men who rummaged through the boot. He pointed his rifle at them. "Where have you hidden it?" Merem cried uncontrollably. "For God's sake, we are going to mourn my brother-in-law Brahem who has died! Maybe you've heard that Brahem is dead?" The man with the weapon was silent but then said: "God be with him and God be with you! If you don't have any gold and jewellery, it doesn't matter, give me your watches and gold rings." Just as he spoke he pulled these things off them and pointed the gun at Alan's chest. "Cough up the money, otherwise we'll break every bone in your body! Hurry up! We haven't got the entire evening for this, you idiot!" Alan shouted and waived his arms indignantly. "Do you want money, is that what you want?" He pulled out a wallet, full of ten-dinar notes. "Take them you, and let us go!" When the men saw the wallet one could hardly miss seeing the gleam in their eyes. One of the men muttered: "You are our favourite, mister Alan, we promise to take good care of your money. Think that in less than an hour each of us has earned more than all three of us would have earned together in an entire year."

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Go in peace and may God be with you, Alan!" Alan inspected the car and one of the men kept him company. "Nothing very serious with the car, just a little damage. Drive on now and have a good trip. God be with you!" The men laughed out loud. "We'll be going home now, thanks to mister Alan we won't have to work anymore." The family got into the car. Alan was so shocked that his legs shook. He drove slowly past the roadblock barrier and then stopped the car as soon as they had gotten out of sight of the men. He got out of the car and stood with his back to his family. He held his hands over his face and burst out crying very loud.

37

It was three o'clock in the afternoon and the heat was unbearable in the sun. Their rescue was the refreshing wind that stirred up the dust alongside the road. Kadir was riding on a mule but sometimes he wished he had gone on foot instead. This was the first time he rode on a mule and his body vibrated the whole time through the inhospitable mountain precipices. After a long while the farmer stopped. "Here we part ways!" Kadir got off and tied the mule up to a tree while he and the farmer went up to a stream and washed their faces. The farmer got ready to say his Asser prayer, the third prayer in the daily cycle of five prayers. It was now about three o'clock in the afternoon. After praying, he turned to Kadir: "Listen, son, behind these mountains is the Peshmerga base. I'm turning back here, otherwise I'll be in for an extra ride when they see my mule. I have to get back to the village." Kadir and the farmer shook hands and bade each other farewell. The farmer went a few steps and then turned. He was silent for a while and looked at Kadir, studying him well and something like sympathy was aroused in his look. "Do you know what you're getting involved in? To become a Peshmerga is to move towards death. You're still young, how in the world will you make it? Please, come home with me, your mother will die of loneliness." Kadir bowed his head and mumbled something in a low voice: "But I just can't. I've decided and I'm not coming back, I have nothing to live for."

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After a brief silence, they shook hands again and Kadir embraced the farmer and thanked him for all his troubles and his kindness, for all that they had done for him. He went his way, saying in a low voice: "I'll never forget what you people have done!" "God be with you!" said the farmer. They left each other and each went his way. Kadir felt abandoned and lonely. The last part of the way towards the base he hesitated before practically each step. Should he go on or not? He thought of his mother and wanted to change his mind several times. But when his father's face appeared in his thoughts he shook his head and convinced himself to go for revenge. "If Ahmad can cope with being a Peshmerga, I must be able to do it too." He climbed up on the bald mountain. It was difficult to walk along the uneven mountain trails. When he got to the top of the mountain he couldn't manage to take another step and sought shelter under a bush. He sat down and ate the food the old woman had given him, then he lay down on the ground. When he woke up, the day was turning into night. He had trouble getting up but after considerable exertion he managed to do so without making a sound. His whole body ached and he tried to slowly climb towards the Peshmerga base. When he saw a worn-out edifice he felt considerable relief.

One of the guards at the base shouted: "Give me the binoculars, it seems like someone's coming, if were in luck it's a gazelle." He looked through the binoculars and shouted again. When he saw a silhouette clothed in black moving among the bushes he called for the other guards." "Is it one or are there several?" "I don't know, we'll have to see." After a short moment of silence he shouted out again: "On your guard! Call for reinforcements, we are being attacked!" The entire guard detail gathered at once and everyone got ready to shoot. It wasn't long before shooting broke out and Kadir ended up in the middle of it. He ran back and forth in shock and was hit by a shot that threw him to the ground. The shooting lasted until the guard commander called out to his men: "Cease fire!" At the same time Captain Doran and his armed gang came. It was still light when the silence was broken by Captain Doran who shouted at one of his bodyguards in a raucous voice: "Give me the binoculars."

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He looked around him for a long time without seeing anything that was moving. He laughed out loud and joked with the guard commander. "Listen, you've been firing at the dark, there's no one there, not even a little rabbit." "No, Captain," said the guard commander firmly, "I swear by the Koran that I saw at least one person with my own eyes and I believe I hit him." "Well, maybe you did?" laughed Doran scornfully. The others guffawed along with him and one of them said: "Hurry up and get the deer, can't you see that we're hungry." The guard commander felt so wronged and shook all over. He said in a broken voice: "I'll show you that I'm right. Follow me!" he ordered some of the guards. We'll catch that rabbit for the captain, he muttered to himself. It wasn't long before he got up and turned to the others: "There's the idiot, bleeding on the ground!" He pointed his rifle at Kadir and was close to shooting. Just at that moment a younger Peshmerga came and pushed the gun up so the shot went into the air. "Can't you see he's lying and dying in his own blood. Why should you kill him?" The guard commander hissed and pushed him away. He spat on the ground. "Now those bastards will no longer dare laugh at me!"

Kadir had been hit by a bullet and he was bleeding and lying on the verge of fainting when the guards came closer and examined him. One of them took his pulse. "He's alive! He's just slightly injured, it's only a shot that went through the arm." As fast as lightning, they took out a head shawl and bandaged Kadir's arm. "Wake up, wake up! The danger is over!" "Poor kid!" "What are you doing here? For God's sake. Where are you headed for, you nut? You were close to getting killed, what an idiot!"" They took turns carrying Kadir on their back and turned back towards the Peshmerga base. When they got there, everyone gathered and rushed up to them. Captain Doran was among them. "The guard commander was right, he wasn't firing at the dark, I take back what I said." When they got closer and Doran saw whom they had with them he shouted out loud.

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"What have you done, you bastards? He's my cousin. What have you done to him? My God, you've shot my cousin!" The guard commander was scared and said in a pleading tone of voice: "How could I know that, I thought" Doran cut him off. "Bungler!" he shouted, "You just shut up!. I'll punish you by disarming you for at least a whole month. Thank your God that he's alive, otherwise I would have shot you up into a thousand pieces!" "What are at you gaping at? Get the medic," he shouted. "Get the Landrover here!" Kadir was given first aid and together with Doran and Ahmad, who hurriedly joined them, they drove the car towards the Iranian border. After a half-hour's journey by car they got to a little hospital near the border.

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38

The next day Kadir was lying in the hospital. When he opened his eyes he saw Doran and Ahmad in the room. He was surprised and slowly looked around him. Doran rushed up to him when he saw that he was awake. He sat down on the edge of the bed and patted him gently on the head and spoke in a quiet voice: "You're lucky, Kadir, you have a guardian angel over your shoulders." Ahmad joined in: "You were close to death, how is it that you turned up here? In the middle of the line of fire! Thank God that you were only slightly injured, the bullet went through your arm and you can leave hospital soon!" Kadir was silent at first but then burst out crying. "I had hoped to be killed and spared this day. How can I go on living when they tortured papa to death?" Ahmad froze. He wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. Doran's eyes drew together so that he looked frightening. "What are you saying? And I thought you had argued with your mama and wanted to scare her." He shook his head. There was complete silence in the room. Then Doran sighed. "May God be with him, a great man who sacrificed his greatest asset." Doran raised his voice and exhaled through his teeth: "I swear that I will revenge his death, his blood will not have been shed in vain, I'll kill a hundred men in his honour, the bastards will not get away with this." Doran yelled so loud that the hospital staff rushed into the room "I promise my God that I'll do it!"

On the third day Kadir recovered and then drove back with Ahmad to Doran's newly built home which was near the border. Ahmad kept silent on the way there. He hardly said a word. At the table Captain Doran spoke and everyone nodded in agreement. "You, Kadir can become as good as Ahmad. Imagine, in a short time he has shown what he can do, he's now a group leader and has ten armed men under him. Doran combed his moustache with his yellow-stained fingers. "Listen, Kadir, it's brave of you to avenge your father, that testifies to real manliness. You will start at first with me, then we'll see later on what comes up." Ahmad listened disapprovingly without contradicting him. Doran turned to one of his bodyguards.

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"Hurry up, get an automatic rifle from the store room!" "Have you ever test fired?" "No," Kadir answered embarrassed. "Then it's time that you learned. Tomorrow you will learn how to use weapons." Kadir's eyes gleamed when he saw the rifle and he felt an indescribable force surge through his body when he touched it. He was no longer the schoolboy that he had been, now he was a man with a weapon, and not just any old weapon. The men spoke the entire evening and Kadir sat there in silence, deeply impressed.

Ahmad made up a mattress for Kadir in the room where he himself slept. Kadir lay on the mattress and was soon asleep. Ahmad lay on the couch. Before he dropped off to sleep he thought of Brahem and it reminded him of his own father's death which had happened when he was very little. He knew the sadness that comes with such an event. The next day Kadir awakened and got up. He hurried to get his gun. When he touched it he saw that it was so well polished that it could practically be used as a mirror. He carefully placed it on his shoulder. He had never felt such strength as if a force went through him starting from his fingers and his shoulders. Ahmad who had been up for some time came up to him and said in a sad voice: "I'm am sorry for your grief over your father. May God forgive him! God knows how much I liked him." He became silent and looked to one side. "I am sorry to see you here, you are my best friend." Ahmad's voice was so weak that it was practically inaudible. "Go home! You don't belong here, I have a feeling about you that you'll be killed in the first battle. Go home, your mama will die of grief if something happens to you." "How do know that I'll be shot, are you God? And if you can cope with life as a Peshmerga, then I can do it too." Ahmad shook his head. "You can do what you want, I just wanted to say what I felt."

They sat down on the floor and Ahmad showed Kadir how to take the gun apart and put it back together. He showed Kadir how to aim and shoot. "You may never aim it at one of your own, and you should never have your finger on the trigger. Don't forget that, many accidents have happened, this is very

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dangerous. When you shoot you have to hold it against you, otherwise you'll be thrown back and that really hurts." Kadir looked admiringly at Ahmad who held the gun up. "This is the way you hold the rifle, this is how you cock it and how you fire." The two friends went out behind the house and practised firing until lunchtime. In the afternoon, Kadir began to shoot again. Now he stood alone behind the house and shot like a madman. Ahmad came out to where he was but had a hard time getting him to stop. "Stop for God's sake! Thats not the way to practise shooting, you have to shoot one shot at a time, not thirty all at once, we have to save ammunition. What do you think you can do if we're attacked tomorrow. You'll have to know how to do it." Kadir became irritated at Ahmad and shouted: "You're making a whole hen out of a single feather, it's not the whole world, after all it's just shooting." One of the older Peshmerga men passed by and it seemed he was surprised when he saw Kadir, still a little boy. He shook his head and silently said to himself: "What kinds of kids are these, we seem to have opened up to scamps. Do they really know what they're getting involved in?"

Kadir became better and better as time passed and in the end he only missed his targets by way of exception. Every time he scored a hit it felt as if he had killed the enemy. He longed impatiently for his first battle and his first lethal shot. The days went by and Kadir felt more and more satisfied with himself. For the first time he enjoyed getting excited and trigger-happy. He always carried his weapon with him like a mother carries her baby. He was filled with thoughts of revenge, of blood and of killing. He slid further and further away from reason and it was soon as if he had never been anything but a Peshmerga in Captain Doran's group.

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Back home in Halabja, Amina was in despair. She was beside herself, cried hysterically and threatened to commit suicide if anything happened to Kadir. She beat her breast and tore her face. In fact, she tore her face so seriously that it was swollen and blotchy. Halima held her down and tried to prevent her from injuring herself. "Two weeks have passed and no one has heard anything from him. No one has seen him." Sometimes she panicked when she realised that he could have thrown himself into the river Sirwan and drowned. Halima consoled her:

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"Pray to God that you will see your son again, he must be uninjured, don't worry." She turned to Raza. "Go and find Omar and tell him he has to come." Raza ran out onto the street, he looked worried. On his way home to Amina he met Omar. "Haven't you heard anything from Kadir," Omar asked. "No," said Raza, "but I have a feeling he has run away, he might try to become a Peshmerga." "Do you think so?" Omar sounded hopeful. "Yes, I'm sure that he's with Doran and Ahmad now." It was around nine o'clock in the morning when Omar and Raza climbed into the car and together drove to the villages outside the town. They drove on roads as long as there were any and then they walked on foot along the steep and heavily overgrown areas leading up into the mountains.

Towards lunchtime the next day they arrived at the Peshmerga base. The guard recognised Omar and they shook hands and embraced each other. "What are you doing here, Omar?" The guard called in to the base: "Hey, get some food for our guests!" He turned to Omar and Raza: "Please, be seated." Raza was particularly keen. "Is my cousin Kadir here?" "You mean Captain Doran's young cousin? Yes, he is. He was injured and was given treatment. It was dark and we thought we were being attacked when he ended up in the middle as a target. We just barely missed him but he was lucky, I have to say. He was only slightly injured." Omar's face grew pale and Raza was dumbfounded. "Slightly injured?" "He's out of danger. he was hit by a bullet that went through his left arm. He's on his feet again and practises shooting all day." "Where is he now, did you say?" "He's with Ahmad in the daytime, they're childhood friends"

Cousin Omar and Raza waited nervously and got even more nervous when Ahmad appeared by himself and sat down beside them. He looked worried. "What are you people doing here?" he said gently. "Where is Kadir," asked Raza.

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"He's with Captain Doran. I think he and Captain Doran are out on patrol or he may have driven over into Iran." "We're not going anywhere, we are waiting for them until they come back." "Sure," said Ahmad respectfully, "Make yourself at home." He asked how his mother and Karim Bey were. "He's alright and we visit her often and ask them if they need anything. The tailor Otman brags about you days on end and has renamed you the eagle. Hussain has moved to Suleimaniya so we've got rid of him. Fatso hasn't changed, he's the same tease that he was when you left." Raza stared fascinated at Ahmad who was covered with all sorts of ammunition. He wished that he too could carry something like that on his shoulders. Ahmad turned to Omar and whispered: "Something serious is going on. We have to do something, it's a matter of life and death and Captain Doran wants to keep Kadir." Ahmad leaned forward some more. "He can't rely on too many people and he wants a relative in his unit. As soon as Kadir was allowed to bear arms he hasn't been the same again. He shoots like a madman all day and longs to make his debut when he can take part in fighting for the first time." Ahmad looked tense and spoke in a sad voice. "I have a feeling that he'll be killed if he stays with us. Take him back with you. Kadir will be angry with me but he listens to you. I'm concerned about him, he's my best friend and I don't want to lose him."

Everyone called Doran "captain" even though he had never had any military training. Many people thought he had a good future and would get far. Many people spoke quite openly about him. "Such a brave man, we'll not see the likes of him again," the men in his unit used to say. "He hasn't a hole in his body and doesn't know what fear is. I'll sacrifice my life for someone like him, we seldom see someone like that, an asset for our revolution!"

Towards evening Doran and Hairless came back with Kadir. All of them looked well and seemed to be in a good mood. When they saw cousin Omar and Raza they were surprised. Kadir couldn't believe his eyes. "This isn't possible, are you going to become Peshmergas too?" He shook hands with them and suddenly looked sad. His manliness prevented him from showing any emotions at a time like this and instead he took Raza and Omar to

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Doran's house where lunch was made while Doran sat with his guests in the living room and chatted. "Do you know why we've come?" "No, how could I know that?" Omar took a deep sigh and explained to Doran that Kadir had disappeared after Brahem's death. "We looked everywhere and didn't think he was alive. Amina is desolate. I don't think she'll make it much longer. There are rumours going around that Kadir drowned after having thrown himself into the river Sirwan. Others say he fled to Baghdad but nobody knew where he was." He stopped before going on. "We never thought that he could be with you. It was Raza who said that he had heard Kadir say he was going to get revenge, which is why we've come here. And we've come to take the boy back." "What boy?" said Doran, astonished. "Kadir, of course!" "He's not a boy any longer, he's one of us. He's my cousin and I need him. I can rely on him." Omar was shocked but tried to collect himself. "They lost Brahem. Amina won't be able to take another blow. She hasn't eaten for ten days. We tried, but she refused and said she'd start to eat again the day her son comes home unscathed, but not otherwise." Doran interrupted him. "He's now old enough to decide for himself if he wants to stay or not!" His facial expression was tense and dismissive. He cast a dissatisfied glance at Omar. "If all sons listened to their mothers we wouldn't have a single Peshmerga with us." Kadir sat by silently. He realised he had got himself into a difficult situation. What should he do now? If he stayed on it could possibly mean his mother's death, and if he gave up his arms he would lose face. "I've thought this out, let it go for this once." The next day all the Peshmergas gathered for breakfast. When Doran came they all stood up. He turned to them and they all fell silent. "From now on I'm setting a minimum age limit for my group. No one can become a Peshmerga until he's eighteen. And that means you too, Kadir! You can come back when you're eighteen, but not before, you have to give up your gun now and go home with Omar and Raza."

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"I've made arrangements for you to get home," Doran continued. I promise to avenge Brahem and kill for his sake, I swear to that on the Koran. Go home and give this letter to your mama!" Kadir was appalled. "I have no home," he said firmly, "I want to stay here, don't do this to me! I like it here, I've found my place." He became silent when he saw that his words were having no impact on Doran. Inside he felt great relief about Captain Doran's decision despite his sadness.

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It was just about lunchtime when they got home. When they came in, Amina came to greet them in tears. She hugged Kadir and wept uncontrollably. Everyone stood by in silence while Amina held her son pressed against her breast. It was Halima that ultimately broke the silence. "Say an extra prayer to God. He's unharmed, just like I said." They all sat down in the kitchen and Halima served some food. She gave Little Brother money to go out and buy kebab. Little Brother took the money and ran away like a dart. When he got back with the meat an appetising aroma spread throughout the kitchen. After eating they sat down in the living room and Halima explained that people still came to pay their respects to the mourning family. Many relatives and friends came from other towns and villages.

Amina was good and warm. Her language was always cultivated and she sacrificed everything for her family, for her children. Her eyes reflected concern but she was careful not to show how sad she was and how much she missed her dead husband. She had aged ten years in a short period of time, one could see that she had been having a hard time and her grief deep inside had combined with fear about the future. Fear and worry were her unpleasant companions from morning till night. They awaked her long before the sun came up.

It was time for afternoon prayers and Amina prayed on her barmal. She read prayers for her dead husband and sang her songs of lamentation in a soft and mild voice that filled the whole house. "Life just gets harder and worse. The worst thing is to see how it changes people. Fear about everything that wars brings with it. Food prices that have quadrupled! All the parasites that make money off this while children are without teachers in school because

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most of them have left town. Tell me, my Great One, is there a safe place in this warridden town? All the places are unsafe and we live with our hands on our hearts without knowing where there'll be shooting next. We have survived five years, how much more time can we survive for? Where are you, my God, you are our only rescue. Come to our assistance!"

Kadir sat in the kitchen where he could hear what his mother was singing. When Amina was through she came to him in the kitchen and served him tea. "Does your arm hurt, son?" "No, but I miss the life of a Peshmerga, I was so close to becoming one but that stupid idiot Doran didn't want me anymore. I only wanted to show that I'm a man, revenge is my greatest wish." Amina was scared when she looked at her son, there was something about him that she did not recognise. "Revenge," she said, "Do you think that'll bring your papa back?" "No," he said, "But it can be considerable consolation. I'll have my revenge and I have already avenged him!" "What do you mean by that, my son?" Amina sounded very alarmed. "That was long time ago. Do you remember the morning when the soldiers came and took him away? My life was never the same again. I longed for him day and night. The question of whether he was dead or alive constantly churned in my head. And now he's dead." Kadir lowered his gaze. "Images of torture made it so difficult for me to sleep. I saw papa's bloody and pale face in my dreams. At night, I tossed and turned. Anxiety played with me like a cat does with rats." Kadir looked into his mother's eyes and had tears in his own eyes. "What do I have to live for? The only thing that makes me glad is to hear that so and so many soldiers have been killed or wounded. I pray to God that the wounded also succumb. The only thing I live for is revenge even though I've already taken revenge on those dogs." "What do you mean, Kadir? What kind of rubbish is this? You're crazy, you are only a child." "You don't know anything about it! I killed two soldiers!" "Stop lying," said Amina loudly, "For God's sake!" But Kadir went on, speaking even louder. "Do you remember the morning last year when you sent me to the baker's?"

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"I sent you to the baker's many times." Kadir went on in a relaxed voice. "It was early in the morning and we found out that two soldiers had been killed outside." Kadir turned white in the face. "I was the one that killed them, it was my fault in any case. I remember that I was walking a few metres behind them when suddenly a hand pulled me away. Fox Eye, Sirwan's friend, put his hand over my mouth and pulled me behind a corner. "Not a word!" he said and pointed to a Peshmerga who sat in an ambush. It only took a few seconds and then the shooting was over. They fell over on the ground and their bodies were torn apart by a rain of bullets. They lay lifeless on the ground, bathed in their own blood. Kadir stared out of the window. "I'm both proud and scared. I could have saved them. They weren't that much older than I am. I could have shouted, I could have torn myself away from Fox Eye. It seemed so cowardly, they didn't have a chance. Shot from behind." Kadir continued to speak with his eyes bloodshot from crying. "I can never forget what they looked like lying their with their brains on the pavement." Amina listened in shock when she thought about what he had gone through. "Please Kadir, stop thinking like this, you are only a child. Fox Eye saved your life. May God preserve him, you could have been killed. It's the fault of the war that people die." She embraced him for a long time. "Please, don't assume other people's burdens, your shoulders aren't up to it. Those two poor soldiers didnt even have a single chance against ten cocked rifles, they would have been killed with or without your help." Kadir was silent and Amina got a glass of ice water for him. "Drink this and you'll feel better. We have to go on even though papa's old party comrades turn their backs on us as if we never existed. Oh, God in Heaven, what would we do without Alan who has taken care of us!"

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The Peshmergas grew rapidly and soon had a unit outside of every city. They could move around freely in the day in the liberated zones. It was only larger cities that the army had under its control during the day. In the evening the cities too became their willing spoils.

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It was now the middle of summer and Ramadan, the month of religious fasting, had just begun. Most of those in the city were annoyed by the heat and the protracted fasting during the day. They awakened early in the morning long before the sun came up and ate and drank until it was time for morning prayers. After prayers they went back to sleep and then they fasted the whole day. People neither drank nor ate anything until dusk when they were allowed to eat again.

This first day in Ramadan saw few people out in the gruelling sun. Most of them rested in the shade or lay quietly at home in front of a fan, waiting for evening. Towards afternoon Karim Bey woke up and called to Fata: "Get the radio!" He turned the radio on and when he heard the news presenter's monotonous voice he froze as if he had been bitten by a snake. "This can't be true!" he shouted. Fata rushed up to Bey. "Fata, Fata, something horrible happened! The Peshmergas are killing each other." "No, that can't be true." "More than two hundred are dead. It sounds like a real battle, and now the breakaway faction is in Baghdad." "What are they doing there?" "How should I know?" Karim Bey shouted. Naked fear was written all over his face.

After dusk and after evening prayers the muezzin's shrill voice could be heard calling from the mosque's loudspeaker and all those fasting could now start to eat. Karim Bey and Fata ate too, and after dinner they heard someone knocking on the door. Fata rushed to open it. "Welcome, Omar, please come in." "Thank you, Fata," said Omar and entered. "Is Bey at home?" "Yes, he is." Karim Bey got up and shook hands with Omar. "Welcome, sit down!" Omar sat down on the couch and wanted to talk about what had happened and what was going to happen. "Believe me, Bey, that I couldn't stay home alone now that even more misery is ahead of us."

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"You are always welcome, you must know that, Omar! I am so happy when you stop by. It's unbearable, fasting in Ramadan in this heat while at the same time we're worried about what is going to happen." "What's supposed to happen next? There can be a new turning point in the war." Omar sounded nervous. "Things can get worse unless God comes to our aid." "Yes, things are not good. The Peshmergas are staying in the mountains with Iran's support while dissidents from the breakaway faction are moving their headquarters to the cities and are getting support from the army. How will this end?" "I don't know, Bey, but it doesn't look good."

Fata looked worried and sad, she was reading her prayers without stop but she broke off for a while and served tea. She mumbled to herself: "What'll become of my Ahmad? I know that he's staying up there in the mountains. The breakaway faction will harass us, those of us that have been on the Peshmergas' side. And the Peshmergas in turn will harass all those on the breakaway side. She stared at the men to try to get their reactions. "Now the war will really get to the cities, and now we civilians will really be drawn into the war," she told the men. "I can't understand how they can do this to us, can't they see what's in the process of happening? Are Kurds to slaughter each other while Iran and Iraq look on?" "Don't worry, mother Fata," Omar said. "I don't think that war between them will get to the point where they start in on civilians." "Believe anything about those ruthless people, a sombre future awaits us!" Karim Bey and Omar looked at each other and Bey said: "You are completely right, Fata, a sombre future awaits us. I don't know but I feel it in me that we are headed for that. There's no improvement in sight, in any case not in these parts, time passes and everything gets worse."

The unexpected news shook the town. Everyone talked about what was happening. "It's a new turn in the war," said one person nervously. "No, it's not the same." "The armed breakaway gangs will move into the city and the army will look on while the rival factions slaughter each other. One side will get support from Iran, the other side from the army." "Even a blind man can see where we're headed." "Now we can't expect anything but an uncertain future."

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"Now war will come to the cities for full and bloody clashes can be expected."

It only took a week before the breakaway faction, with the government's approval, got control of the city. Issa-the-Arab and his group were no longer welcome. Many were out after them and now they had the chance to take revenge. Consequently, Issa left town early one morning in a police car, followed by shouting kids throwing eggs and tomatoes at the car. Disgruntled voices could be heard. "That bastard got away, he should have been stoned to death, or slaughtered alive, the damned plunderer!" The town was divided, some of them pro, some of them contra while still others kept out of everything. New tension was in the air. It showed itself in petty squabbling and fist fights, loud noisemaking and shouting, in discussions of the situation, on who was right or wrong, on who was going to win or lose and in families that were split down the middle by different opinions so that fighting even broke out between members of the same family. The matter got to the point that neighbours became bitter enemies and many renounced friendship with each other. When dusk fell the rival groups lay in ambush for each other and shooting often broke out at night when Hairless and his group sought out families that could have a member among the dissidents. Hairless and his gang beat people to a pulp with rifle butts and occasionally took some suspects with them to the mountains to throw them into squalid prisons. The next day the breakaway faction would go after its adversaries and harass relatives or supporters of the Peshmergas.

Kadir and his friends were by now teenagers on their way to becoming adults. Some had left school and had nothing to do in their free time but wander around while others worked as errand boys or apprentices with building contractors or craftsmen or helped out in their own family's business. When Blue Eye came back from his builder his clothes betrayed the fact that several layers of dried sweat formed unique patterns. His face was sunburned and when other people of his age slept at home or rested in the shade to escape the worst heat of summer, Blue Eye lifted red-hot iron posts or carried cement pails across the rooftops. That is what his summer looked like from early morning to late at night. Sometimes he worked for piece rate and earned a little extra. When he got home he was so exhausted that he was hardly able to do anything. He was often so tired that he fell asleep with his clothes on.

Fatso was an apprentice in a kebab restaurant where he got beaten and kicked, some times for good reason, sometimes for no reason at all. He was discovered and stopped a few times when he tried to take money out of the till.

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Kadir and Raza did not need to help out with the family's finances thanks to uncle Alan who managed the family's interests and with the passage of time made them all the richer. Kadir was often sad and immersed in his own thoughts while Raza's thoughts revolved around Shirin. Little Brother spent his mornings with a mullah and read the Koran, something that he disliked altogether. In the afternoons he merely wandered around in a gang.

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The previous pecking order among the women was in the process of changing. The Widow's raucous voice and loud shouting and the constant diatribes were no longer heard. The neighbourhood kids were now safe from her wrath and her blows. During the years of war she had become increasingly fearful. The slightest little noise scared her and she locked herself in and no longer dared go out. She came with time to be constantly bedridden and ceded her ground to her younger rivals, Komri and Shama. The women gathered in the daytime as they had always done but the Widow was missing and those who were happiest about this were Komri and Shama.

Shama was on the warpath, complaining first about the heat, although she didn't fast herself but simply pretended to do so in front of others. "This heat is God's curse, it'll be the death of me, I thirst to death in the daytime. May God come to my assistance, otherwise I won't be able to fast anymore." All the other women nodded in agreement. "That's true, it's easier for us to stand the hunger than the thirst." Shama responded with delight: "Listen, women, have you heard anything about the Widow?" "No!" Shama kept quiet when the Widow's daughter passed the women by without greeting them. "Well you see it with your own eyes," said Shama "Like mother, like daughter." She sighed deeply. "How could I have made such a mistake, I should have known her better, that evil woman! But I didn't." She turned to Komri: "I thought she was a women's woman, I looked up to her, but she showed us what she was, more frightened than a rat and as scared as a mouse, she is. May God take her. She that had such a long and nasty tongue and complained about everything and accused

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everyone. She meddled in everyone's affairs, the evil old bitch! Everyone avoided her out of fear. Now we see the truth, how to tell black lamps and white lamps apart at night." Komri chimed in: "And we who looked up to her! That old bag ostracised me for no reason, but I liked her and thought she was powerful. I didn't know that her wrath was just hot air and nothing else. She who thought she was the neighbourhood queen, that damned ugly old witch." Komri raised her voice and pointed her index finger at the other women. "I'll slit the throat of any bitch that visits her, that bastard has brought shame on us women, she felt her life was worth more than anyone else's in this neighbourhood. She thought she was the only one living through a war, but not us, the damned bitch. I hope she moves away. She doesn't exist any more! Never again will she sit out here with us." Komri and Shama were happy and patted each other on the back. The other women looked surprised and didn't know what to believe. That the Widow was evil was one matter, but these two might be even more evil. Whose side should they be on? They knew that both Shama and Komri hated each other but that they were in agreement for once this particular day. Otherwise they were always, as the Kurdish proverb says, "If one went right then the other went left and they couldn't even be cooked together in the same pot."

During the next few days Shama escalated her intrigue. She cast an evil eye at the others and had her venomous tongue slander them. She gossiped openly and called Komri's husband, Hook Nose a "fascist and a bloodsucker." She was angry that things went so well for Komri's husband after he stopped working as a teacher and got into the business of smuggling instead. "Hook Nose has bribed everyone! Imagine, in one day he earns more than others do in a whole month." Komri's position became stronger and she was amicably disposed as long as she wasn't attacked. In addition, she could read and write, something she was proud of and Shama hated her for this. She also had several women friends who worked as teachers, including Miss Sharmin who frequently came to visit and drank tea and chatted.

"What does Sharmin want?" Shama raised her voice and the other women listened with delight. "That hussy has gone out of bounds. Does she think we live in Europe? Said that she'd never go along with any marriage for her daughter unless the daughter gives her consent."

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Shama did not like Miss Sharmin and boiled with rage every time Sharmin came to visit Komri. "That damned hussy thinks that she's better than we are, she who's false like a snake. Is she, of all people, to be the one to preach to us about love? She who goes to the extent of saying that her daughter will marry for love? That idiot has no conscience1"

In the evening one of the women on Komri's side reported everything and Komri laughed out loud as she was wont to do. "Just now I don't have any time for a dog barking like that. Let her say what she wants now, I know where she hurts. Her envy doesn't belong here. Our progress is a thorn in her eye." She was silent for a while as if she was thinking, and then went on: "By the way, can't you tell the women in this neighbourhood that we're planning on building a castle the likes of which have not been seen in this city, nor in other cities nearby either, for that matter. Tell them all of my children will have their own rooms. Tell them we intend to have our children getting private lessons so that they don't wander around like other people's children. Tell them that only irresponsible people bring kinds into this world every other year without being able to feed them."

When the rumours about Komri's plans got to Shama she was beside herself and argued with her husband: "You good-for-nothing, the only thing you can do is produce kids,. Others earn more in a day than you earn in a whole year. Salman Hook Nose is building a new house but we don't even have a radio at home. May God take you, you wretch." Shama started a campaign against Hook Nose. "Naturally they're making money off the war. Off blood! In that way they can buy the whole town. But they should know something" She paused a moment before continuing: "Fraud and dishonesty will be punished some day, it only brings misfortune in the long run."

When Komri heard the latest slanderous rumours she decided to put Shama in her place. "That hussy has gone too far and I'll lose face if I don't teach the cow a lesson!" She thought for a while what she should have on and then after a short while she put on her widely discussed light blue dress and took a few pieces of gold jewellery from her jewellery box. Contented, she looked at herself in the mirror before she left the house. When she got to where the women were, Shama stood up with a false gleam in her eye.

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"Oh, how elegantly dressed you are today. Are you off to a party, Komri? You haven't been here among us for some time now. How are you and your husband doing? I heard that the little girl was sick." Komri was tense and annoyed. She spoke in a sharp and angry voice that astonished Shama. "I don't want to have you talking about me behind my back and spreading false rumours about us. I told you that you shouldn't stick your nose in the dirt but you insist on doing it. You ask me," she said more reservedly in a serious and firm voice," how we are. I'll tell you here and now that were doing fine as long as you leave us alone." Suddenly she lost her self-control without shrieking and at the same time raised her hands in front of her: "You badmouth us. Why?" Shama could not defend herself, she shook with fear. "Ayaro, ayaro, I've never said anything bad about you and your family, these are just unfounded accusations and probably the work of the Widow. She's taking her revenge on the two of us. There's nothing you can criticise me for." Komri's rage now joined up with hysteria. "I know you so well," she said several times before she lunged out Shama. The women standing around quickly stepped into to keep them apart. Komri's eyes were black with rage. "What do you have against us, why do you slander us? Your eyes can't stand to see us making progress, that's the simple truth. You are so evil that you outdo the old Widow. You don't want to see anyone doing well. From now on you'll have to deal with me, you uneducated cow, if you say a false word about us. I won't allow you to talk about us." She turned on her heels and left.

Shama was so shocked that she was at a loss what she should say. Therefore, it took a while before she said anything to the women. "Did you see what she did to me? She must be crazy!" The women stood in silence, but deep down inside they were happy about the argument and at the same time a little frightened that they might have to take sides. Some tried to save the atmosphere and nodded in agreement with Shama.

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The days followed a strict pattern. And as so often before, rumours were heard of a major offensive. "The Peshmergas are preparing to take the city! They have thousands of armed Iranian militiamen with them, dressed up in Kurdish clothing. The breakaway faction is also making preparations and has assembled men from different cities. They have already decided to drive the Peshmergas out towards the Iranian border." Here and there discontented voices were heard whispering in each other's ears. "We have to fend four ourselves!" "This is the worst thing I been through yet. Everyone is everyone else's enemy and they slaughter each other whatever the case." "Be quiet or you'll get caught!"

It was Sunday and everything was still and quiet. The sun menacingly wandered across the sky over the city and people were as irritated by the sun as by the war. Everyone was forced to protect themselves against the heat but their faces were always sunburned. The sun and its heat were frequently cursed. At such times, the toh trees provided a welcome shelter. With their heart-shaped leaves the trees provided dense greenery where one could hide during the summer's hottest days. By noon the sun had taken possession of the city and it started to get far too hot. The air was hot and heavy. Occasionally a weak, hardly perceptible wind appeared and millions of small flies came to life. They left no one alone and made life even more difficult than it already was.

In Kurdistan there is a tree called a toh on which berries of varying hue hang down. At this time of year the boys began to climb up the high toh trees to pick the juicy yellow and red berries. Blue Eye climbed first and the neighbourhood kids waited on the ground for him to shake the trees so that they could pick up the fruit. Suddenly Big Head pushed Big Ear over and cried out: "That one you took was mine!" Big Eye quickly picked up a stone on the ground, throwing it at Big Head and hitting him in the chest. Big Head moaned in pain. "I'll fuck your mother, she's just a whore!" "I'll kill you, I'll cut out your long tongue!" "You have a head as big as a cow's head!" "You have ears as big as the ears of a donkey!" "I'll become a Peshmerga and kill you!" "You can't even kill a bird."

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They shouted and yelled and fights broke out until Blue Eye climbed down from the tree and pulled them apart. "Stop you jerks, you're killing each other!" There was peace in the neighbourhood for a moment before the next outburst. The boys sat silently and looked around. Their faces were sunburnt. They were covered with dry sweat over their entire bodies and they were covered with dust. Some of them had clotted wounds and black-and-blue marks on their bodies. Raza came running towards them, he was out of breath and jabbered incoherently. "Come! The breakaway faction is attacking the Peshmergas, there are many people gathering in the outskirts to look on, I saw it with my own eyes." They all ran there as fast as the wind.

Far away on the plain the breakaway faction was marching towards the mountains from ten different directions. At the foot of the mountains one could barely see them, tiny like black flies they moved along the dried yellow rocks. It wasn't long before the army's artillery came to their assistance. It thundered ceaselessly and each time the villages nearby were hit, columns of smoke could be seen rising into the sky. Those that sided with the dissidents had binoculars with them. Occasionally they shouted and bragged about what they saw of the battle as if they had been watching the whole thing in a cinema. "He's fallen, he may be dead!" "Papa, please, can I look too?" "Please now, wait your turn!" "Please papa!" "Stop nagging!" The discussion ended with a hefty push from papa. "They're fleeing like rabbits," he crowed with joy. "The worst is over and soon we'll achieve our goal!"

Kadir sat silent like a wall and felt inside that the Peshmergas would suffer a defeat. He thought of his friend Ahmad for a moment. It was an unjust struggle between them but he dared not open his mouth, now that he was surrounded by adult dissident supporters. The afternoon was getting late and the sound of bombers and mortars far away from the city could still be heard. And when the first cheering soldiers slowly drove through town in their lorries everyone knew that the battle was over and the breakaway faction's triumph knew no bounds. Jubilant shouts were heard and the dissidents sang battle songs and shouted slogans.

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Kadir ran towards the police station together with many other kids and adults. The lorries stopped and the losers' bloody corpses were dropped on the pavement. They fell with blood running from their battered bodies. They soon covered the entire ground and it wasn't long before the corpses were piled on top of each other in a heap. Alongside the corpses they built up a pile of weapons and ammunition that they had confiscated. Some ten captured militiamen were kicked out of a car. It was easy to see the fright and fear in their faces. They could hardly stay standing and some of them were slightly wounded. Adults and kids wandered around and looked at everything. "Here you have your enemies, look at the bastards," said one of the breakaway soldiers and his voice vibrated with rage but in his eyes there was only emptiness. It was a tense moment. A nervous silence prevailed and everyone stared at the pile of corpses. Kadir went up and down, shocked and on the verge of fainting. It was the first time he had seen so many dead people at one time. Everywhere one saw the horrified eyes of men and women looking for their relatives. No one could have expected anything as horrible as this. It was unimaginable and disgusting. Raza was dumb from fright as if he were in a nightmare. He felt the horror in his knees and in his stomach and there were no words to describe what he felt inside. People searched through the pile of corpses and turned the dead over. If they didn't see their relatives among them they were filled with considerable relief. Kadir searched with the others. He was lucky in not recognising any relative or any acquaintance among the dead but he still empathised very strongly with anyone that might find relatives among the mangled bodies. The sight of horrified people searching for relatives was so strong that he wanted to run away. "They are only strangers! They're not from this area!" People sighed with relief. "They're Iranians," a grey-haired man with sad eyes burst out. "There's no doubt about it." "Exactly," said an armed dissident soldier. "We surprised them while they slept, the chicken Peshmergas left their Iranian dogs in the lurch. They already knew that we were on our way." "They didn't shoot a single shot. Only one of them," said the dissident soldier and pointed to one of the corpses. "This dog killed two and wounded three, but he got what he was begging for. Look at what his body looks like, there's not a single part that hasn't been shot to pieces." "Serves him right," said a sympathiser of the breakaway faction.

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Fatso wandered around while Kadir sat and stared at the prisoners that nobody bothered about. They stood in silence without talking to each other. No one spoke of how they must feel at this moment. Nor did anyone tell the prisoners what was going to happen to them, nor give them any water in the gruelling heat. They simply stood in their places to be shown off. One of them wasn't able to stand any long but fell down on the ground and fainted. His bloody bandage was soiled by the dust from the road. Kadir ran and got water but he was pushed aside by an armed dissident soldier. "Let the swine die," said the soldier indignantly and hissed through his teeth. "I'll cut the ears off any bastard that comes close to them! They're animals and they're only standing here to be shown off. Do you understand that, or do I have to repeat myself?" He shot into the air with his rifle.

Mullah Jalal was so irritated when he heard that the heap of corpses lay there for public inspection that he went up to the breakaway faction's commander. No one in town had ever seen him so upset before. The commander treated him with respect and shook hands with him. He said in a respectful voice: "What can I do for you?" "Don't you know what your men are doing? There's no respect for the living and now there isn't even any dignity for the dead." The commander interrupted him: "I don't know what you're talking about, the city has been rescued and we've defeated them." "Come and I'll show you what your stupid men are doing," said Mullah Jalal. "Follow me to the police station. There you have something to worry about." As fast as a dart they got into the commander's car and drove to the station.

When they got there the commander threw a fit and shouted so that the ground shook. "Who gave you orders to show off the dead like this? I'll cut out the tongue of the bastard who gave such an order!" Several armed men mumbled something inaudible and the commander hit them and kicked them until he got tired of doing so. He was out of breath and could barely speak. "Take away the dead and bury them! Take care of the wounded and drive the others to the prisoners' camp!" They all gathered and they quickly hurried to carry the corpses to the horse carts. The carts drove off and the prisoners were deathly silent, their tired eyes following the

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carts till the latter disappeared. Those who had previously stood there and looked at the corpses in the piles now followed the carts to the burial. More and more joined the burial procession, including Kadir and Blue Eye. The commander swore on the Koran that he would punish those responsible and together with Mullah Jalal he drove to the burial grounds.

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A despondent mood prevailed in Halabja. People were shocked by what they had seen. On the way home from the funeral Kadir and Blue Eye walked with a hesitant gait. They were unusually silent precisely as if they had nothing special to say to each other. They avoided each other's gaze and if they wanted to be alone. It was close to the time for evening prayers and suddenly artillery shells rained down over the city. People ran in panic and threw themselves on the ground. Cries and shouts were heard mixed with the sound of explosions. Amina beat her breast in despair. She ran down into the shelter, read hymns and wept profusely. "My children! God spare my children!" At first, Kadir and Blue Eye did not grasp the seriousness of the situation but when a shell landed in their immediate vicinity they ran for their lives in the direction of their own neighbourhood, Kadir in front, Blue Eye following. They got closer to Kadir's house and Kadir made it into the house before a huge din was heard close by. Smoke, dust and pebbles flew around them. Kadir lay silent as if paralysed, he had got a shock from the artillery's loud din. He got up carefully and checked slowly to see if he had been hit or not. Then he ran into the shelter.

When the bombing stopped, civil defence and other volunteers came out on the streets to help the injured and dispose of the dead. Parts of Blue Eye's body, covered with blood and scraps of flesh dyed the white stone path up to the house. Omar was among the first to get to the scene, crying out loud and waving his arms. "Poor Blue Eye!" People gathered on the spot, Omar and the others collected parts of Blue Eye's body on a stretcher and put a blanket over them. When Blue Eye's mother and her women neighbours got there, his mother threw herself on the lifeless corpse and embraced it tightly. She wept out loud and tears poured over her face. Her hands got stained with Blue Eye's blood. She scratched her face and shouted. "My son, my dead son!"

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The neighbouring women tried in vain to take her away from the corpse. Finally she fainted from all the effort and the other women clustered around her. Amina beat her breast and wept and the others tore their hair and scratched their faces. The entire neighbourhood gathered and when cousin Omar took Blue Eye's bloody corpse away, the tears were running down his cheeks. Everyone followed him, crying and wailing, to the mosque where many of the dead were already being collected.

The next day the funeral procession went through town to bear the dead to their final rest. Inside himself, Kadir felt that something had been crushed. He had lost a childhood friend. In a certain way, he bade farewell to his childhood that day when he mechanically trailed along in the funeral procession. Emptiness crept into his eyes and he stared absently into space while the others buried Blue Eye. The neighbourhood was not like its old self anymore, the streets were empty and the kids stayed inside. Some of the women were so scared that they didn't dare take part in the mourning. They were scared to death of new bomb attacks. The Widow had sworn by Allah that she would not set her foot outside her own doors as long as the war continued and the children playing in front of her house were unusually silent. No fighting, bawling or shouting was heard. Frequently they just sat quietly and it was noticeable that they were mourning for Blue Eye.

From that day onwards, fear prevailed ever more and Kadir lost his appetite. He was absent and the time after Blue Eye's death was a blackout for him where he just lay and stared into space. At night he tossed in pain but no one saw him. He shouted but no one heard him and he wished that someone would come to him but nobody did so. Nobody asked him what was wrong. He had to sit alone and to go out walking alone. He avoided company and often kept to himself. Amina was so preoccupied with everyday activities and daily problems that she didn't see what her son was going through. For Amina it was one great relief that he was alive and that was what was crucial for her.

A week had passed since Blue Eye's death and Kadir could not longer cope with the inner tension, he collapsed and stayed in bed. He could hardly get up, had no desire to talk or eat and looked frailer than usual. Amina's grief knew no bounds when she discovered the seriousness of his condition. This was somewhat more than she had expected. She felt ready to faint and her heart knotted up in pain every time she looked at him. She was really afraid that she might possibly lose him. Only now did she grasp how serious things were and when she sat just in front of the half-opened door to his room there was only

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one person she could reproach for this, herself, for not having seen the boy and his pain. She had been totally preoccupied by her own worries. Tears welled up in her eyes and she thought she heard her husband's voice, "Don't worry, Amina, there's always hope! Even in chaos there is a way out. Don't lose your grasp, Amina." But she couldn't manage keeping her hopes up and she began to reproach herself and dwelt on her own shortcomings. "What a bad mother I am, not recognising my son's pain in his eyes, I'm ashamed of being the mother that I am. Everything is my fault!" she thought to herself. "He's gone crazy from fright and I couldn't see the fear that crept over him that he would die like Blue Eye!"

Raza came in and this time he had a well-known doctor with him who examined Kadir. Amina looked nervous. She looked on while the doctor conducted his examination and jabbered incoherently the entire time. "What's wrong with my son, he hasn't eaten for five days, I don't even recognise him. What are we to do? Lord God, I forgot to ask that." She wanted to say more but couldn't find the words. "I can't find anything wrong, nothing physically wrong in any case but he really does seem to be sick," said the doctor. He said that the boy seemed to be depressed and that it would be a good idea to have the boy examined by such a doctor. Amina put a quick stop to this. "That's out of the question. Is my Kadir supposed to go to some insane asylum to visit a doctor for lunatics. Not on your life! Not as long as I'm alive! That will be the last straw!" The doctor waited for her to say more but she said nothing. "Do what you want," said the doctor, "But there is something seriously wrong with him. What are you doing here anyway? You who can afford to live in Suleimaniya or even in Baghdad! Go live with your brother Alan. That would be best for him." Amina stood there in embarrassed silence and said nothing. She regretted that she had not been the first one to suggest that. The next day the two sisters, Amina and Halima, decided to go live for the time being in Suleimaniya to which they then travelled with their children. Cousin Omar drove the car and they got to Suleimaniya the same day.

Kadir lay in bed and couldn't get up the strength to go out. He was terrified and cried for hours. He often had nightmares and cried out in his sleep. Raza slept in the same room with Kadir and they talked about what had happened. Raza spoke in a sad voice: "Obviously, we mourn for Blue Eye."

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"He was so young and strong," said Kadir. "He was my friend and now he's gone." "There's no point in mourning," said Raza, "What's done can't be undone. Blue Eye is dead, that is the work of God and we can't bring him back to life. He is a martyr but he was only a child and now his place is in Paradise. That was his fate!" "Everything is meaningless, first my papa and now Blue Eye, I don't even have the strength to do anything about it." "I've long been thinking of bringing it all to an end. You only have to shoot one shot and then everything's taken care of, I have nothing to live for."

But Kadir was more often than not surrounded by relatives and friends who came to visit and showed that they cared for him. Time passed and slowly he came to feel alright to some extent, even if he never got to be as he had been before. He often went around with paper and pencil in order to set down his feelings in poems and rhymes.

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Events followed upon events in waves and everything happened without prior warning. Halabja was so changed that no one recognised anything anymore. It was not just destruction but also the fact that most of Halabja's inhabitants moved away from town. They were aware that the rival groups were taking revenge on each other and that the old enemy had now become two enemies. Komri's family was among those families that moved to Suleimaniya. They now lived in the same neighbourhood with Miss Sharmin and she often went to visit them.

But life in Halabja still managed to go on and every day a few Peshmergas switched sides and at the same time a few members of the breakaway faction switched and became Peshmergas. The news of Fatso's brother switching sides was a little unexpected. He had been among the most loyal of all the Peshmergas. Ahmad remained with the Peshmergas as his mother had suspected he would. He came close to being killed several times but he always managed to escape with minor injuries. He had luck and was often in the right place. On one occasion, he and his men ambushed and killed a lorry load of soldiers. Ahmad climbed the career ladder and in no time he had become Captain Ahmad surrounded by one hundred Peshmergas. The leader for the breakaway faction sent him a message saying that he could have whatever he wanted if he switched sides. Ahmed did not even answer the letter and he told his friends that he had once sworn loyalty to the

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Peshmergas and that he was their loyal servant. Rumours about him were traded quite briskly in Halabja. "Imagine, killing so many government and dissident soldiers in such a short period of time." "So young and already a captain!" "God preserve Fata for having such a courageous son," said the Peshmerga supporters. No one dared do anything to his mother out of fear of making Ahmad their enemy. The leader of the breakaway faction was, furthermore, a good friend of Karim Bey.

Fatso went as usual to the kebab restaurant but this time his intention was not to do any work. "It's a good thing you came, we were waiting for you," said the restaurant owner cheerily. "Are you waiting for me, you bastard?" shouted Fatso and took out a sharp knife. He overpowered the restaurant owner and put his arm around the man's neck. "What do you say now, you bastard?" he shouted while he kicked him. "I'll kill the bastard that tries to stop me, this is my own business that I've long been waiting for." He knocked the restaurant owner over. The blood ran from the old man's nose, the latter having no choice but to lie still and take what was coming. "I'll beat you while you're down, you heathen, just like you did with me," shouted Fatso and sneered. "That's not the end of things for us, you're going to pay for everything you did to me, you'll regret that you even exist. You fucker, your time is up, I want all the wages you deducted from me and you're going to pay dear for all the beatings I took from you, you bastard. Now it's time to join the breakaway forces, I am headed in my brother's footsteps!" Fatso threw his knife out through the shop's window panes.

He joined the breakaway faction that very same day. There he got his own Kalashnikov. He had always been interested in weapons and now he had one of his own. He swore that he would always bear arms and take revenge on those who had done him harm. That entire afternoon Fatso gave a presentation in town. The neighbourhood kids followed him around in admiration. Big Head and Big Ear followed wherever he went. He paraded around on every street and market, with delight he looked at all the pretty girls and thought that now he'd have the opportunity of taking advantage of the situation.

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Fatso's days with the breakaway faction were momentous. He harassed the restaurant owner and ate at his place without paying. He felt his power increase with every day that passed and had a feeling that people were different to him and now respected him. They suddenly took note of whatever he did, whatever it was, and the neighbourhood women praised him.

When Fatso saw Shirin, his heart beat even faster. He told himself that this choice morsel was going to be his. He liked neither Raza nor Kadir and Shirin was a challenge for him. Now that Raza was in Suleimaniya the path was clear. Fatso finally got through to Addo, Shirin's older brother, and told him that he had heard rumours that long-faced Raza liked Shirin. "I'm telling you this because I don't want a peasant from the village doing anything like that to some one in this neighbourhood. We are all like brothers and sisters here, aren't we?" "Where is that idiot," Shirin's brother asked, nibbling straight away at Fatso's bait. "He's in Suleimaniya and it can't be hard to find him there." Addo was so angry his eyes turned black with rage. He gathered his brothers and drove to Suleimaniya to teach Raza a lesson he'd never forget.

That same day, in the afternoon, Shirin's brother located Raza who came up to them and gave them a friendly greeting. One of the brothers surprised him by hitting him with a clenched fist. Addo then dealt him a heavy blow that landed just above Raza's eye. Blood ran down on Raza's face. The other brothers came and beat and kicked him even harder and continued to do so so long that they were close to beating him to death. But, as luck would have it, several unknown men intervened and prevented them from finishing Raza off. "We'll tear you to bits if you show up again in our neighbourhood," Addo said. No one will come to your assistance, not even your murderer cousin, Captain Doran." The brothers left him there and Raza was given a lift to the hospital by some of his acquaintances from town.

Fatso beamed with delight when he heard that Raza had been given a good beating and that he even might be hospitalised for several weeks. "Serves that idiot right," he openly said, sneering. "He was asking for it, and for once that bastard got what he deserved." Fatso now considered making a new attempt at conquering Shirin.

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"Maybe Shirin will say yes now that the idiot is gone!" He had always liked pretty girls and Shirin was now his absolute favourite. Several days later he made his move. He couldn't read or write well enough but with Big Ear's help he wrote her a letter. Most of it dealt with Fatso himself, he praised himself as a man and said that he could protect her and that he wasn't like other chickens that fled to other cities. He described himself as the right person with no fear in his body. He sent the letter to Shirin in order to wait for an answer but she gave the letter to Addo without reading it. "This letter has come from Fatso who tried to give me a bad reputation."

The brothers marched off to Fatso's house but, thanks to God, he wasn't at home. They shouted and screamed: "We'll wait for that idiot to come home." Naffe shouted back so loud that the ground shook: "Beat it! You're lying and you made everything up. Do you think he's like Raza that you can give him a beating whenever you want! He and his brothers are armed, now beat it, I don't want to see any blood shed here!" "Can't you hear me?" she shouted even louder when she got no answer. The brothers withdrew and promised each other that they would one fine day teach him a lesson.

What put a break on Fatso's further progress was that his brother was one of those that switched sides again because he had not got what he wanted and had ended up squabbling with others in his unit. He left the breakaway faction and crossed over to the Peshmergas again and they welcomed him with open arms. When the news of his brothers defection reached Fatso he was sitting at home. It was evening and he immediately felt paralysed with fear thinking of what now awaited him the next day. The dissidents would disarm him, maybe even throw him into prison for all that he had managed to accomplish in such a short period of time. When he thought of Addo and the restaurant owner he grasped what was waiting for him. He wasn't in any way delighted about switching sides but he knew that he had to. He decided to join Hairless's Peshmerga gang. During the night he took his rifle and, without bidding farewell to his mother, headed off for the mountains.

The next day the news of the brothers' defection broke and dissident soldiers were the first to knock on Fatso's door. Fatso's mother Naffe opened up and asked them, shouting, what they wanted. "Where's Fatso?"

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"How should I know that? I don't even know if he's with the breakaway faction or not, I have nothing to do with either Fatso or his brother, they do what they want and nobody asks me for my opinion." "Fatso took an automatic rifle with him! We demand to have it back, it costs two hundred dinars!" Naffe became so angry that she had trouble controlling herself and she shouted: "You can hang me or burn my house down, but I'm not paying a single fils, why should I? Did you ask me what I thought when he joined you people? But now you bastards come and think you can harass a widow like me! Throw me into prison but I'm not paying anything!" People were gathering around them and the dissidents understood that they were getting nowhere with her so they decided to go but before they left they told her they'd be back.

Raza was in hospital for three days and Kadir stayed with him the entire time and slept there as well. He was fully preoccupied with taking care of Raza and this was something that Amina was happy about. "He's coming back, my son," she said. "It's good that we moved to Suleimaniya!" Towards lunchtime, Kadir and Omar drove to the hospital and brought Raza to his new home in Sulaimanya. Raza felt stiff throughout his entire body and was still in pain. Halima and Amina both wept in despair when they saw Raza coming in the door. Kadir became indignant and wanted to go kill the ruthless bastards that had done this to his cousin. The entire family gathered around Raza and hugged him. Raza felt depressed, it was disgraceful, being beaten like this by others. Unpleasant rumours would be making the rounds that he would have to live with for years. His hands were tied and he couldn't take revenge on Shirin's brothers. In a certain way he understood them, but it was still difficult to swallow. Raza got a gleam in his eye when he heard Halima say: "Don't worry, my son, done is done and you are my only son. If you want to have Shirin then I'll do everything so that you can have her. I'll soon send people to ask for her hand, don't worry, you'll soon be engaged!"

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The civil war went on for the fourth year and now forced people to face one tragic and dramatic event after another. They had to go through sorrow and misery, constantly fleeing from heavy fighting and bombing raids. Many moved away for good and others found a safe place temporarily. In their home town of Halabja the people commended themselves into God's hands in the hope that they would survive the war and the fighting between rival groups.

One could tell that time had passed. Kadir was now several years older and always looked rigid and tense. His sorrow could be read across his face and sometimes it flashed up and a wave of rage and hate stormed through him. His desire for revenge was so strong that it could not find any satiation inside him.

It was a morning in September, an important day for Kadir. He woke up and reached out for the alarm clock to shut it off and then rushed out of bed. After breakfast he went out on the street and he felt under pressure with jitters in his stomach. It was still warm for this time of year and the street, as usual, was full with people wandering around with nothing to do. He walked alone since he frequently avoided company and kept to himself. He walked along the street slowly and concentrated his thoughts on his studies in Baghdad. Kadir always felt depressed when he thought of moving. He was not exactly delighted about any changes. For many others, just the thought of visiting Baghdad could be something grand and exciting, but it was not so for him. To study law at Baghdad's university meant a whole host of worries, moving to a new city and learning to speak a new language. Kadir was also worried about students who sided with the breakaway faction. Towards lunchtime he felt hungry and went to eat at one of the small kebab restaurants, then returned home so tired that he had pains all over his body. Amina saw how depressed and expressionless Kadir was and she rushed up to him. "Haven't you packed," she said in a tender voice. "Omar will be coming soon so you won't have to take a taxi." "She lifted up her arms to the sky and read an extra prayer for him. "God preserve him!" "I'll go and pack now," said Kadir in a low voice, rushing to his room to pack his bags very quickly. Amina came every now and then and reminded him that he had forgotten something."

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It wasn't long before Omar knocked on the door and Kadir brought his bag and rushed out. Amina shouted: "Stop and give me an extra hug, you ungracious boy!" Kadir turned around and embraced her before he took his place with Omar in the car. Omar drove off to Baghdad and Amina read some prayers. As they drove off, she threw a pail of water after them as was customary when bidding farewell.

By nine o'clock they had reached Baghdad. The city looked as if it was in a different country where there was no trace of any war. You could neither hear shooting nor the sound of artillery or bombs and shootouts. People were not knocked down or robbed without further ado. Here there was to some extent law and order, in contrast to the lawless region that Kadir hailed from. Baghdad was like its usual self and the people still lived as they used to do. The streets were overflowing with people and cars. Petty tradesmen strained their voices and shouted as loud as they could and in that way got the attention of those passing by. Shouting, bawling and a sea of noise continued until late at night when the city calmed down a little. Omar drove through the city's streets with great difficulty, needing to be constantly on his guard so as not to collide with anyone and when they ultimately came to a halt in front of Alan's house, Kadir felt relieved and said to Omar: "Finally, we made it!" "Yes, of course!" said Omar, in good humour as he always was. They knocked on the door and Awat came rushing. "Now they're coming!" He ran to the door and when he opened it he called out: "What did I tell you! Mama, it's Kadir and Omar!" Kadir carried his bag in and then picked Awat up, hugged him and told him that he had got much bigger. "Come in!" said Merem. "We've got your room ready." Awat pulled the bag in and said: "Oh, it's heavy!" Alan and Bery came running down the stairs and were given a hearty welcome. "Have you brought any presents?" asked Awat. "Yes, my darling," Kadir answered and took the bag into his room. "Off with you boys!" said Alan and ushered the kids out. Alan turned to Omar: "The food is waiting for you, I hope you're hungry." "No, we're full," Kadir answered instead of Omar.

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"We ate along the way, but a hot cup of tea would be good!"

Several days later Amina rang Alan, she was worried and spoke for a long time. She kept repeating that Alan should keep an extra eye on Kadir and said several times: "Don't rely on him, he'll tell you he's feeling well, but don't believe it. He hasn't got over the sorrow, it keeps on growing inside him and that scares me." Kadir was irritated and put off by Amina's telephone call. "She is really worrying for nothing," he said indignantly. "She's always worried that something will happen to me. What should it be?" He thought of saying something but caught himself and swallowed what he had been on the verge of saying. Instead he became silent and collected himself for a while, looking for something else to say. "I know that you want the best for me. You have always been so good to me. You are the only person that listens to me and with whom I can talk." He sat with his uncle Alan in the living room and drank tea. Kadir's voice was tense and it sounded as if he had a lump in his throat. "I know, wherever I go I cause trouble, both for myself and for my relatives. Nothing has been the same again since that day when the police carted off papa and then the day when Blue Eye, and not me, got killed by artillery fire. I was only a step ahead of him!" Kadir's eyes teared up and a deep feeling of sickness bored inside him. "Since then I've gone my own way," he said in an emotional voice, "My God. You are living some of your best years! Can't you leave the past behind you? Think of your future instead! Why do you want to play with fire? Do you think the dissidents will leave you alone if you join the Peshmergas? They are all unscrupulous idiots! Listen to what I tell you!" Alan sounded firm: "I don't care about all those rival groups, all I care about is you! You should be reasonable and don't risk your life like Brahem did. Study and think about your future." He looked at Kadir with a serious expression on his face. "I wish you could think a little bit more reasonably. But you do as you want, you're an adult and have to learn from your mistakes, but be careful! Mistakes like that can cost you your life!" They went on talking and debating well into the night until Alan's wife Merem raised her finger in warning. "Now you have to keep it quiet so as not to wake the kids and you, Kadir, tomorrow is your first day at the university and you should arrive rested."

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The next day Alan gave Kadir a lift to the university. When Kadir got out of the car the first person hew saw was Assad whom he had known since secondary school. They shook hands and went on into the university campus. Kadir was serious, he sat down in the lecture hall but his thoughts were elsewhere. The Kurdish students always sat in their own corner of the university cafeteria and Kadir saw right away, when he came in with Assad, that Abde sat there too. Abde was one of the students who belonged to the fanatical breakaway supporters and Kadir hated him for this. They passed Abde by and sat down at another table. Abde felt offended by their nonchalance and cried out: "Why don't you sit here with us, you're acting as if we had the plague." "No, you don't have the plague. You're even worse than that!" "What do you mean?" Abde's face was red with anger. ""For me you're just a simple traitor." Abde lunged forward towards Kadir, but Assad came between them. "Now that's going too far, you bastard, you're asking for it," said Abde in a loud voice. "This will cost you dear! You'll regret it, you've started to dig your own grave! We'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget!" "Do what you want, do you think I'm afraid of criminals and traitors?" Kadir said enraged and left to go sit on a bench outside the cafeteria. Assad came out to him and sat down beside him. "That's wasn't extremely smart, you're looking for trouble." "Serves that bastard right, I can't stand him. I just said what I feel. Now let's talk about something else. Don't you live on the same dormitory corridor as Abde?" "No, I rent a flat in the right place," said Abde with a grin. "Where do you live yourself?" "I live with my uncle, Alan. What are you doing tonight?" "Nothing special, if you want, we can eat something good and drink a few beers somewhere."

From that moment on the students that were on the Peshmerga side always sat together in one corner of the university cafeteria and others who were on the breakaway faction's side sat in the other corner. Those who did not support either of these two sides were disoriented and had difficulty in choosing. They were often labelled cowards who were afraid to show their colours. Kadir's position among his friends rose with the passage of

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time and they looked up to him and admired his courage. He grew into his role and like to be seen and to have a good position in the group.

One evening several days after the incident in the cafeteria several neighbours were gathered at Alan's. They sat there, silent and concentrated and waited for the new government to give its speech to the people. They were curious and wondered what Bakr and Saddam would have to say to the Iraqi people. They already suspected from years of experience that this sudden speech would be about a failed coup or a successful one among the various factions of the ruling Baath party. For hours on end television had been broadcasting nationalist songs and announcements that the new government would address the people. When Bakr and his vice-president Saddam finally appeared on the TV screen, the adults shouted at the kids: "Quiet, let us hear what they have to say!"

Bakr looked composed and relieved and he was the only one who spoke with Saddam sitting silently by his side. Bakr occasionally summoned his hands to help him, he waved them and threatened those that opposed the Baath party and called them "sinister forces, foreign spies and traitors." When one of Alan's neighbours saw Saddam, his face turned white and he shook his head: ""This government is no better than the previous one, if not even worse. That's the one that injured the former president Karim by shooting him and then fled to Egypt!" One of the neighbours cut him off: "Please, can't you keep quiet, we can't hear what Bakr is saying." Saddam was a handsome young man in an elegant white suit. He looked happy with a fine-featured face that occasionally opened up into a smile. People knew very little about him, he looked like all the other military men who had control over the country. Now he sat there next to Bakr who spoke with a voice vibrating with strength, he promised changes. "The people shall have their democratic rights under the Baath Party's leadership!" He also warned against any attempt to destroy Iraq's unity and threatened all those forces that received assistance from the outside. "We forgive everyone, even criminals, but not those that betray their country, the only punishment for them is death!" Bakr shouted at the end of his speech.

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After the speech, endless discussions ensued until late into the night, the neighbours nitpicked and analysed everything that had happened before and what they thought would happen in the future. "From now on," said the neighbour, "Bakr and Saddam are our rulers in this country. They have mopped up all resistance and now that they've executed all their opponents they'll grow bigger and more powerful for every day that goes by!" Merem hoped that there would be a cease fire in Kurdistan. "That could be," said Kadir, "With every new military coup they need the time to reinforce their positions." "Certainly something new is happening," said one of the neighbours who was most sceptical. He looked very tense. "What do you mean 'new'?" said one of the others, "It's the same old Baath party that purged the country of socialists and communists. Bakr is president but Saddam is the man who will hold the reigns of power and he's a much harder type that wouldn't hesitate to kill his own brother if he betrayed him. They're all ruthless murderers. We'll have to see what happens!"

The next day Kadir woke up and felt in a good mood. Life in Baghdad was suddenly exciting and for once he felt that his moving there had been the best thing that ever happened to him. What kept a hold on him and helped him was his hatred. Hating helped him to get rid of his anxiety. The worst was over for him and he was very busy with his studies and his life suddenly had a new perspective to it. Every day was a challenge for him. Some of the students liked him and others hated him and his father's martyrdom. Kadir in turn detested the dissidents and he was behind many fights and conflicts with students who sided with his opponents. In the evenings Kadir always came home late or slept over at someone else's place, something that made Alan uneasy. They frequently indulged in long discussions about the civil war but Kadir couldn't stand to listen to what Alan talked about. He had difficulty accepting other people's views and believed just as blindly in his own opinions as in the Koran. Alan was upset that he was unable to influence Kadir in any way to stay out of daily politics. "Listen to me for once," he said. "No one assumes responsibility and sees his own actions, both sides are just as involved and guilty, there is no difference between the Peshmergas and the dissidents or the members of the Baath party. All of them are ruthless killers!"

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He was silent and looked around him as if he thought that someone outside was listening to what he said about them. "Before," said Alan, "we thought we were the world's most oppressed people, we took up arms to put an end to that but now we are oppressing ourselves more than what the enemy has done. Don't you see what has happened in these years, can't you see how the various different Kurdish factions are aiming their guns at each other?" He stopped and then went on: "We're doing what we have always done! We kill each other and our enemies look on. Look what the war has achieved. We are our own worst enemies and that is the reason why we haven't had our own country. We are a nation that can never unite, not as long as we have leaders as stupid and ruthless as the ones we have!" Kadir tried to interrupt him, but Alan stuck to his guns: "Let me get to the point! Sooner or later all hell will break loose and soon everything will be smashed to pieces that took people years to build up. Apparently we can't live without war in this inflamed region!"

Like every other evening, Alan in one way or another tried to prevent Kadir from joining one of the rival groups, but to no avail. Kadir was already deeply involved. "You hate the Peshmergas," said Kadir, "just as much as you hate the breakaway faction and the government, just tell me, what do you like in life?" "I don't hate anyone, the only thing I want is for us all to live in peace with each other, Kurds and Arabs, and respect each other's way of thinking and opinions. War will get us nowhere. Who cares about white, black and brown. I don't hate anything but war that carries off so many innocent lives. Kadir, don't get involved in this dirty game, you will only be tempting your fate. You can't see the consequences of this all, but some day you will!" Their debates became louder and louder until Merem intervened to get them to call it a day and sleep on the matter.

48

Almost two months later Kadir felt more secure and did not think that Abde would dare to report him for anything. One late afternoon when the November rains were gently falling Kadir came out into the rain after the day's last lecture and walked towards the bus stop with Assad. Suddenly a car stopped and two plainclothesmen got out. One of them was big and husky and the other was small and his face showed signs of scars from knives or other sharp implements. The two men looked hard and unpleasant.

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"Stop!" they shouted in Kurdish in a loud and raucous voice. "Are you Kadir? Shut up and come with us, you're under arrest!" "Don't try anything, otherwise we'll bump you off or break every bone in your body!" The taller of the two men, known as the Gorilla, waved his big crude hands. "Get in the car!" Kadir tried to run away, but the big one got a hold of him and held him down so hard that Kadir had a hard time breathing. He took a few hard punches in the face and was on the brink of fainting. "Get in the car," the men shouted. "Otherwise we'll break your neck like that of a chicken." They threw Kadir in the car's back seat. "What should we do with the other one, should we take him in too?" Assad became so frightened that his heart stood still. He looked confused, as if he couldn't believe his eyes. "No," said the Gorilla, but at the same time he stared at Assad who was quivering like an aspen leaf. "But for safety's sake, let him write down his name and address." Assad wrote but his hands shook so violently that his name was practically illegible. When he was through the Gorilla kicked him so hard that he fell over and hit his head on the edge of the pavement. The Gorilla waved his finger in the air. "You haven't seen or heard anything, got it?" Many students and others that passed by looked at them but none of them dared to intervene.

They drove off and the Gorilla started to kick and beat Kadir and box his ears violently. He sneered: "This is just the beginning, we'll kill you if you don't confess!" The short man driving the car chimed in: "Hit the idiot again, it's so much fun watching one of his kind get it on the jaw," he said, laughing out loud. While they drove the Gorilla had several fits and Kadir had to take several hard punches with the fist so that blood ran from his nose and his upper lip. At the breakaway faction's headquarters the car stopped and they threw him out. With punches and kicks they pushed him in front of them in the direction of a back door that led to the building's basement. They kicked him down a flight of stairs and slammed the door so that he had to grope his way forward in the dark.

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An hour later interrogation got under way. Kadir sat tied up to a chair and had a blindfold on. The blood on his face had mixed with dirt and dust from the cellar and now sat like a half-dried crust over his face. For more than a half-hour Kadir had to sustain blows from a cable that the lead interrogator first hit him hard with and then the others took turns. Kadir had no choice but to sit there and take it all. He soon lapsed into a swoon and no longer heard what the lead interrogator or the others were talking about. "Get a pail of ice-cold water!" shouted the interrogator. "It seems he doesn't like our company!" Kadir regained consciousness when the cold water splashed over him but he was so feeble that he didn't even understand what the interrogator was saying. "Do you know, Kadir, what will happen to you if you don't confess?" asked the interrogator in a quiet and firm voice. If you survive this, do you know what will happen next? No, perhaps you don't know." He was silent for a few seconds and stared at Kadir. He tore off the blindfold and the sharp light from the fluorescent tube burned into Kadir's eyes like hot knives. "Look at me when I talk to you, you bastard, you damned old hag that doesn't dare look me square in the face. What you've gotten is just the beginning, just wait and see what you'll get next, if you survive. We have evidence against you, and if you don't confess then we won't mind turning you over to the army. They are not as nice as we are." Kadir tried to focus on the man in front of him. "Do you know what awaits you?" He answered himself while he sat down on a chair in front of Kadir and began to clean his nails with a large army knife. "They'll execute you on the spot. This is the second attempt against our men in Baghdad, confess and I promise you'll be acquitted! Point out the guilty ones, you must have heard something about it, why should you sacrifice your life for others? They wouldn't do it for you!" He came up to Kadir and raised his voice while he pulled hard on one of Kadir's ears with one hand while he hit Kadir's face hard with the other hand. "Sissy boy, you fucking ratter, you'll be able to see paradise with your own eyes." Kadir fainted again and a new pail with cold water was poured over him.

Assad was shocked and lay for a while by the roadside until several students passing by came up to him and helped him get up. They hailed a taxi. At first he thought he would go home, but when the car stopped in front of his home he said to the driver:

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"Please, can you take me to Rashid Street?" Assad went direct to Alan and mumbled with a lump in his throat. His eyes were red. "Something horrible has happened!" He couldn't collect himself and jabbered incoherently. Alan panicked when he saw him. "The dissidents have seized Kadir, they'll kill him if you don't do something!" Alan went pale and didn't know what to say. His strength left him and everything went black in front of his eyes. He was as stiff as if he had been bitten by a snake. "This is what I was afraid of," he said in a barely audible voice. "It just happened now. Two men picked him up in a car."

Alan drove straight to the breakaway faction's politburo but the guard there coldshouldered him and tried to get rid of him. "I haven't heard any mention of what you say. We don't have anyone like that here, try somewhere else, why not try the army? You'll certainly find your relative there." "I won't leave here until I get to see the leader." "He's in Suleimaniya, go there and meet him!" The guard sneered at him. Alan left and was so upset and irritated that he could hardly see in front of himself. While driving he came close to colliding with other cars, the latter then blowing their horns and making obscene gestures at him, something that only made him even angrier.

The next day Kadir was awakened with blows and kicks. They shouted at him: "Wake up, you bastard, do you think this is a hotel, you bastard!" In the basement running steps and muffled cries could be heard. They put a blindfold on him and once again he was sitting completely in the dark. He couldn't see those who were torturing him but he recognised one of the voices as that of the Gorilla. Kadir collapsed when he was brought in to the lead interrogator. "Stand up, you bastard!" At the same moment, someone came into the room and said: "Don't kill him, he'll confess!" The man behind the voice came up to him and said in a mild voice: "Cooperate, Kadir, my friend, and save your own hide! Why do you want to get killed? You are still young. Just tell us who was behind the attempt. We know that you're a supporter of the Peshmerga and that you're a member of their party. But why should

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you sacrifice yourself, you who have your whole life in front of you? Cooperate and skip more of this beating, it's that simple - as soon as we see that you're cooperating, there'll be less of a beating. Be reasonable!" Suddenly a quick and practically unnoticeable sound of quick motion could be heard. Without warning, Kadir took a powerful blow in the face with a piece of cable. He started to bleed. "Cooperate, you bastard, we'll knock off every bone in your body! We haven't any time for bullshit!" Kadir was already completely rigid inside, a merciful dusk came over his consciousness. He fainted several times and got pails of cold water poured over him. He had no idea how long he had been in the room. Around lunchtime the lead interrogator gave an order: "Leave him alone, don't beat him anymore until we get back tomorrow."

The next morning they came back. The lead interrogator put a blindfold on him and at the same time pulled him hard by both ears and shook his head hard. "Cooperate, otherwise I'll kill you!" he shouted. "Do it!," Kadir hissed out and tried to spit at the interrogator. "Do it as quick as you can! I have nothing to live for! You'll be doing me a favour if you finish me off." The interrogator seemed to pay no heed to what Kadir said. He shouted: "I'll kill you, be sure of it, slowly and surely so that you crawl on your knees, you swine!" He took out the cable and began to beat Kadir. "I'll show you!"

49 Kadir lapsed into unconsciousness. His whole body ached. It was covered with blackand-blue marks and swellings and on his face there was dried blood and marks made by the cable. What came to his rescue was the Gorilla's crude voice calling out for the lead interrogator. "The leader is waiting for you!" The lead interrogator kicked Kadir over and gave him a few more hefty kicks before he, elated, rushed out with the Gorilla. He was happy that he would be able to report that he had seized the right person who would soon disclose the names of all those behind the attempted bombing. He went into the office and immediately sensed that the leader was in a bad mood. He looked tense and gave the lead interrogator a frosty look.

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"What do you want me for?" asked the interrogator in an exaggeratedly respectful voice. He sat down on the sofa in front of the leader. The leader darted up and shouted at him: "Who told you to sit down, you bastard?" The interrogator got up again as fast as an arrow. He felt shaky all at once. "I hear you've seized someone for the bomb attack!" "It's only a question of time till we have the names of all of them." "And do you know whose son he is?" "He's the son of Brahem." "Right! He's the son of the man who was tortured to death, you fucking idiot!" The leader stopped talking and sat down before he went on: "I knew his father." The lead interrogator clearly felt how the wind was now blowing from a different direction. "I have to make something clear to you!" The leader once again raised his voice. "Nothing happens here without my knowing it! Why didn't I hear of this faster? Who do you think you are, you bastard? You've put us to shame, you scum!" He was purple in the face, his eyes were piercing. The lead interrogator tried to squirm out of his dilemma and said in a restrained tone: "I've been given secure information that he knows who was behind the attempt." "Shut up, you bastard!" the leader shouted and threw an ashtray at him that landed on his chest. "You just keep quiet now, you bastard, when I'm talking! The next time you seize a student without my knowing it, I swear to God that I'll crush every bone in your body! I swear to God that I'll disarm you and throw you in gaol, you dog!" The leader waved his arms and pounded the desk with his fist several times! "Can't you grasp how much damage you've done? We include his papa in our martyrs and I have mentioned his name with pride several times and you, worthless wooden-brained jerk, try to take his son's life! Who was it that reported him?" "Abde at the university, he's a fellow student with him." The leader shook his head. "And how is he doing?" "He'll survive." "Lucky for you," said the leader and bent over his desk. He grabbed the lead interrogator's collar and pulled him over towards him.

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"See to it that you release him, but not now, you have to take care of this decently. Keep him a week or two until he's recovered and see to it that he gets the treatment he needs fast. And not another blow! And before he's released call in his uncle Alan. He's somebody we need!" "Or at least we need his money." The leader became enraged again. "Don't interrupt me, you dog! Get out of here before I kick the life out of you!"

On his way from the leader's office to go back to his men in the interrogation room, the lead interrogator bumped into Alan along with several well-known dissidents. The interrogator was so upset about the humiliation he had sustained that he at that moment felt an intense desire to shoot Alan to death on the spot. But the thought of Alan's money and influence got him to control himself and instead he shouted: "What are you doing here, Alan?" "You know what I'm doing here, why do you ask me?" "I told you a hundred times that he isn't here!" Alan lost control of himself. "I know he's here. Do you know whose son you're trying to kill?" He gave the lead interrogator a good shake while tears welled up in his eyes. The interrogator pushed him aside and Alan raised one of his hands. "You think you've seized a defenceless little slob that you can do what you want with! His papa sacrificed his life and you kill his son!" Alan stretched out his arms. "His life is in your hands. If anything happens to him I'll make life tough for you." He turned and walked away from the lead interrogator who stood there with his temples pounding.

As soon as the lead interrogator got back, one of his bodyguards asked: "Isn't it time to give him what he's asking for?" "No, it's time to let him go!" He sighed. "Did you hear what I said?" He turned to one of the guards. "Go get Fadi, the doctor, and do it quickly!" "What's a doctor going to do with him, shouldn't we send him to join his father who's waiting for him in heaven or hell?"

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The guard laughed. "Shut up!" said the lead interrogator. "Beat it before I give you a beating!" Fadi quickly came and headed straight for the dreary chamber where Kadir was laying practically unconscious in a corner. Two of the guards grabbed him by the arms and lifted him up. Fadi shouted to them to go get his bag and then he examined all of the black-and-blue marks and injuries on his body very thoroughly. "You're lucky, only a few broken bones. No internal injuries!" He washed away the blood and the dirt and put clean new bandages on the injuries that were spread all over his body. He prepared an infusion for Kadir and ordered a bed for him.

Kadir lay and stared in front of him. Slowly he became more aware of his surroundings and felt in pain. He was amazed by the sudden change. The lead interrogator's crude and knotted-up face was completely gone. He now came up to Kadir with a gentle expression on his face as if he were another person. The days passed and Kadir continued to get treatment. Despite that, he became increasingly alarmed as time passed. He feared that they would come back at any moment and cast themselves over him and that the heavy pain would once again overcome his body. He didn't understand anything. He regained his strength and the visible signs of the beating ultimately consisted of weak traces of black-and-blue marks turned yellow, a few fresh scars in the face and broken wrists.

The following Thursday morning the lead interrogator came out of the leader's office. He was in a good mood and called out to one of the guards: "Bring the car!" They drove to Alan's house and the driver parked outside the large villa. "What a house! It looks like a castle! Alan must be as rich as blazes." They knocked on the door and Alan invited them in. The lead interrogator declined and urged Alan to hurry up. "The leader has returned and he's waiting for you!" It took a half-hour's drive to get to headquarters. The lead interrogator walked in front of Alan and showed him the way. The leader stood up when he saw him and came to meet him. He made efforts at giving Alan a warm welcome. Then he fell silent and it seemed as if he had something important to say. "We deeply regret what has happened, I feel very ashamed of what we've done to you, particularly since you've been such a support to us when we needed it." He stopped and leaned back.

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"And now we've rewarded you by seizing your nephew who is, moreover, a son of Brahem the martyr." "God only knows," the leader went on in a convincing voice, that I only found out about it today. Believe me, I had no idea what had happened to Brahem's son! I'm furious at the bastards who seized him and I swear I'll punish them. You must convey to his mother Amina that we apologise for having mistook the wrong person." Alan could hardly believe his ears. His face was tense and his heart pounded. He feared that Kadir was dead and interrupted the leader. "Is Kadir ?" he voice failed him. "Relax," said the leader, "He's as well as you and me." He called out to one of the guards to go get Kadir. "We're releasing him today, immediately, but please promise me, Alan, to keep him away from suspected Peshmerga supporters." He turned to the lead interrogator. "Give Kadir a lift home with his uncle!" The lead interrogator made a respectful gesture, putting his hands on his breast.

Kadir and Alan embraced. "Thank God that you're alive!" The lead interrogator came up to them and offered them a seat in his car. "We'll not be going with you, you can be sure of that." Alan called a taxi and it wasn't long before Kadir was home again, surrounded by the whole family.

50

Even a week after Kadir's release he still couldn't get up by himself and he had casts on his wrists and suffered severe pain from the torture and beating. Assad visited him together with other students almost every day. Kadir was depressed and looked embittered. It was several weeks before he could get up and walk a little but with the passage of time he felt all the more secure and he appreciated the fact that so many others cared about him. He opened up for his friends and told them what he had gone through in that dreary chamber. "Of course, I was afraid," Kadir said, "and I thought the end was coming. Most of the time I lay in a corner without feeling anything, at the end not even feeling any pain and after they beat me for the second time I was almost unconscious." He became silent and looked out the window.

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He continued. "I never saw the ones who beat me since I had a blindfold on when they pounded me. I became another person, I couldnt do anything, couldn't think, couldn't cry. Only two weeks and my whole life has changed!" He became yellow in the face and lost his voice, forgetting what he had wanted to say. "But I hardened myself," he said after a while. "I coped with the pain and suddenly the torture stopped and they took care of me. Without any advance warning, everything changed." Assad looked at him in wonder as he went on: The worst thing was waiting, it felt horrible not knowing whether or when they would come and get me again. But they didn't come and I simply had to lie there and wait. One can't do more than die, as my papa used to say." He looked around him and he felt unusual since his friends listened to him with such concentration. He lit up a cigarette and continued: "When they told me to get my clothes together I thought I had seen my last day. But I was released instead!"

Kadir recovered and started to study at the university again where he gained more status among the students who looked upon him as a hero. Some of the breakaway sympathisers also respected him and some wanted to be friends with him since they thought of the future and wanted to be on the safe side. Kadir seemed restless and could not concentrate. He wandered around aimlessly and his thoughts wandered as well. One day when he was walking alone by himself he heard someone call out his name. Someone came running towards him and finally he recognised who it was. "Is that you, Sali?" he said and shook hands. "It's been a long time, really been a long time! You've really gotten big!" They chatted and Sali began to ask about Omar and how Raza and Ahmad were. ""They're fine," said Kadir, "and how's your mother?" "She's well," said Sali quickly and indicated that he didn't want to continue the conversation. He looked at his watch. "I have to go, I'm going to a political meeting with the Baath party's youth league. Here you have my address and my telephone number. If you need anything, just say so and don't hesitate. Times have changed," said Sali and stretched. "Here in Baghdad I'm a powerful person. But I haven't forgot anything and I intend to take revenge on those that hurt us!"

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Before parting, he told Kadir to say hello to Omar, Raza and Ahmad for him." Kadir looked around him until he disappeared into the crowd and then mumbled to himself: "Poor Sali and Ama, they experienced nothing but persecution and misery in Halabja, such an unpleasant reputation he had to live with for the rest of his life."

Ama was still pretty and a respected woman in the neighbourhood. The Arab women called her "Sali's mother" and she liked that. She used to think that moving to Baghdad, where she met a rich Arab husband who became a good father to Sali, was the best thing she ever did. Every now and then she thought of the old Widow, Shama, Hairless and the others and always ended up becoming so angry and depressed that her heart hurt. Anguish sat deep in her soul like a knife and not a day passed without her wishing that she would get a chance to take revenge. She prayed to God that Hairless would be hit by a bullet and die or, even better yet, be paralysed. Even though such a long time had passed, she had not forgot the humiliation she lived through in Halabja. Sali grew up to be a big husky man with a moustache and a beard. He was tall and stately with a large hooked nose, something that actually gave him away for being a Kurd originally but he spoke fluent Arabic without any accent so no one could imagine that he was anything but an Arab. Now new times had come and Sali was no longer the punching bag that he had been in Halabja. He had grown tired of school and therefore went to work for his stepfather whom he liked very much and who thought of him as his own son. His stepfather was the leader of an Arab gang that everyone was afraid of and when Sali turned eighteen he joined the youth league of the Baath Party. He identified with the party and openly showed that he would gladly sacrifice everything for his beloved Saddam. Inside, hate grew in Sali who hadn't forgot the teacher who raped him nor the women who had made his mother's life into hell on earth. Hairless and Fatso frequently appeared in his thoughts and that hurt him. He often became speechless and anxiety ridden and bathed in sweat at night. He promised himself that he would take revenge on those who had hurt him and his mother. Frequently, he took long walks, walking briskly and mumbling to himself. "I defy fate, no bastard should think that I am a coward and will not take revenge. I will act like a man exactly as they did!" Thoughts of future triumph provided him with some relief. "I know my time will come, I know what route I'll take and now I'm not alone, I am member of a large and powerful party!"

51

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One afternoon, Kadir intended to go to see a film but changed his mind when he saw the long queue forming in front of the cinema. He wandered down the whole of Rashid Street and when he came nearer to Assad's flat he decided to visit him. Assad rented a little flat in a three-storey block of flats. When Kadir knocked on the door, it was opened by Assad who was not entirely dressed. "Is it you, Kadir? Welcome, come in!" Kadir entered and was surprised to see a very scantily clad woman lying on the sofa. He looked the other way. "I seem to have come at an inconvenient time," he said, wishing he could sink through the floor. "I'll be off again, right away!" "Wait," said the woman, who was older than both of them, "and we'll see what's in you!" Kadir froze in his tracks and was at a total loss finding something to say. In the town where he had grown up people waited for months and years to shake hands with a girl they liked, and sometimes even that could suffice to create a fuss in the whole neighbourhood. Kadir was taken by surprise and unable to handle the situation. He was quick to rush out the door and before it closed he could here the woman's bleating laugh behind him. He rushed out onto the street blushing heavily and hoped to God that he wouldn't meet anyone he knew.

The incident at Assad's roused a sleeping bear in Kadir and thereafter his thoughts revolved exclusively around girls. He thought back to the first time he danced and bumped into one of the girls and something shot through his body when he thought of what was hidden under the pretty festive Kurdish dresses. Now he might just have an opportunity to explore the forbidden terrain but he was plagued with brooding about whether it would be right or wrong to do so. "Assad drinks and does everything that God does not want. He doesn't fast and he doesn't even know what a prayer is. He goes to bed with women he isn't married to. He's a rebel, a living rebel!"

Several days later he bumped into Assad whom he had been avoiding after the incident with the woman in his flat. He wanted to rush past him with a quick hello but Assad persisted and stood in his way. "What's with you, we have to talk!" "I'm in a hurry!"

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Assad sneered and Kadir couldn't contain himself: "It's immoral what you're involved in." "Do you think so? I want to live life and it's short. Don't make a hen out of a feather! I'm just practising for my wedding day. I takes years before you get married, who says I'll even be alive that long? Is it better to die a virgin? Who hasn't screwed a whore in this country? Most of those that do it are married men with a wife and children. They keep it a secret and don't tell anyone about it. Haven't you understood anything?" "What will your parents say about your paying whores with their money?" "If they ever found out about it I'd be in quite a mess!" A brief silence ensued until Assad interrupted it with his loud raucous voice. "Let's not care about anything! Let's forget this business. We'll go to a bar on the river bank and then you'll be my guest for some food and drink." "No thanks, I can't do that," said Kadir. "You know that I live with my uncle. I can't come home smelling of alcohol." Assad tried to convince him to come along and said: "I want you to come along. Live for once and don't be so serious. You don't live your life and you're constantly talking about sorrow, war and misery. Why do you get involved in something that you can't influence anyway? Now you have the chance to taste the forbidden fruits. Don't ruin things for yourself. You can sleep over at my place, I have an extra mattress." Kadir said nothing. He felt pulled in two directions and Assad went on the offensive again: "Listen," he said, "I live the way I live. You won't die if you try it, you're not going to marry her, she's a conventional housewife from the outskirts of Baghdad. She visits me and I'm happy when she does so. Every time I see her, she has a happy smile on her lips. There are many others but I won't let them in the door. I have one that I meet and naturally I pay her and I don't ask her what her name is or whether she's a Kurd or an Arab. That's not my business!" He looked at Kadir and sneered. "You call it immoral and that's your business. I feel I'm making a social contribution, the woman I meet may have lost her husband in the war and have a family to support. I don't force anybody and I like her!" "Alright," Kadir cut him off, "I'll go to the bar with you!" Very shortly they were sitting in a taxi headed for the area along the banks of the river. They sat for a long time in a bar and drank beer and talked about life and girls. This was a difficult subject for Kadir, he couldn't even tell a girl he liked her. He felt very inexperienced compared with Assad.

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"It would be a good idea if being together with girls were more allowed," said Assad. Kadir couldn't concentrate and felt completely lost in a conversation on this subject. "What do you mean with that? Do you just have a dirty mind? Would you accept it if someone went out with your sister or even if someone wrote her a letter? Would your family manage if people gossiped and slandered you for something like this? Or do you want to open up whorehouses all over Kurdistan?" But now we're living here in Baghdad and not in Halabja," Assad interrupted him. "I'm not waiting for my wedding day to get a taste of life." He took a gulp of his beer. "It was my brother who told me about night clubs the first time. He said that he had new women every night. He came home and had done away with every last penny but just laughed and looked satisfied. I envied him and just counted the days and nights until I could grow up and experience it myself. When I reached the age he took me along to Baghdad and paid for a woman so I could see paradise." He threw his head back and guffawed. "Or so that you could commit sins," said Kadir timidly. "Let's have more sins like that!" said Assad who was in the process of getting drunk. Suddenly, Assad got up. "Come along!" "Where to?" "Don't contradict me, we're now heading straight for the night club!" Kadir followed him with his heart beating hard of excitement when he saw the doorman. Assad paid the admission fee and they sat in the bar and suddenly a woman was sitting in Kadir's lap. He thought he was dreaming. The woman caressed him and he had difficulty handling the situation. "Will you buy a glass for me?" the woman asked. Kadir was dumbfounded and stared into space. A glass of whisky was served, to be followed by a few more. In the middle of the night the two young men went home laughing all the way along Rashid Street. Kadir, who was quire drunk by now, said several times: "What are you doing with me, Assad? I've never been so happy, let's do it again tomorrow!"

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Kadir slept over on the sofa in Assad's place and around noontime someone knocked on the door and Assad woke up. Outside were two women whom Assad happily invited in. He greeted them with a big hug each and then withdrew into the bedroom with one of them while Kadir stayed in the living room, sitting with the other one. She drew close to Kadir and helped him undress. He was completely dry in the mouth with excitement and didn't know how to behave, but the woman soon had her experienced paws on him and freed him from his virginity. From that day on Kadir was a completely different person. He laughed and spoke of girls all the time. Assad did not listen too closely to him, most of what Kadir said he had heard many times before.

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It was one of those September days when it was much too warm. The air was dry. Raza had tried in every possible way to persuade Halima to travel to Shirin's mother in Halabja and ask her for Shirin's hand and finally she gave in. It was decided that she would go to Shirin's family while Raza stayed home and waited, anxiously, for word.

Halima got to Halabja and went straight to Shirin's house. She knocked on the door and a surprised and somewhat embarrassed Shirin opened up. "Welcome!" She turned towards the hall and called her mother. "Mama, Halima has come for a visit." Halima kissed Shirin's head and Shirin blushed and looked very shy. Mother Salma radiated joy and went up to Halima and they embraced while she repeatedly said: "Welcome, feel at home!" The two women sat down and chatted for while. They asked about each other's relatives and acquaintances and conveyed their greetings to them. Shirin got them a glass of ice water and then rushed off to her own room. Her heart beat fast when she thought that the mother of the man she loved had come to visit. Why had she come from so far off? It had to be something important. She didn't dare think any more.

"It's been a long time, Halima," said Salma. I didn't think I would get to see you again since you moved to Suleimaniya. How is Amina doing, by the way?" "She's better, but she still longs for Halabja. Now she has only Narmin and Little Brother left with her." "And what is Kadir doing?" Salma asked, surprised.

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"He's a student in Baghdad." Halima sighed deeply and said: "May God damn this war that has split us all up! Once upon a time we lived together like one big family. Now we're split up over the entire country. Look at this city that has had to sustain so many hard blows from war. If you walk around in Suleimaniya you would never believe a war was on." Salma agreed. "But not everybody can leave town, we are forced to stay, we have nowhere to turn to." Salma fidgeted and blushed. "Excuse me, how is your husband Mahmod?" "He is still imprisoned in Nograsalman prison." "God be with him," said Salma, "and may God be thanked that he is still alive, which is what counts, Some fine day he'll be released." "We hope so!" said Halima. Salma called for Shirin. "Boil tea and get some buns for us." Halima sat there silently and Salma could tell why she was visiting. Halima would not have come the entire way from Suleimaniya if she didn't have something important to do.

Halima looked around and noticed the clock on the wall and then said in a low and gentle voice. "Do you know why I've come, Salma? We talked about it and thought about it a lot at home and we think the time has come. We would like to ask for Shirin's hand on our son's behalf." Her smiled broadened. "He will become a son for you. We are proud to become your relatives. As you know, he's all I have, he's my little darling and he would like to be your son-in-law." Shirin who was listening from out in the kitchen, shook all over from fright. Her heart pounded in her breast. It felt like her entire future would be decided within the next few minutes and she waited with considerable tension to hear her mother's answer. Salma felt flattered but kept her feelings under control and did not let on. "This has come as a surprise," she said. "Shirin has one year to go in lyceum and she's training to be a teacher. She isn't ready to get married now, she still has another four years left for her education."

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"I know that," said Halima in a clear voice, "They shouldn't get married right away. Raza has also been admitted to the course of studies for teachers and he has three years left. The wedding will have to wait, but we felt that they could get engaged and they should go register with a mullah. This would spare us a lot of gossip and misery. People talk and, as both of us surely remember, Raza was practically beaten to death by your sons and was hospitalised several years ago. My son and your daughter love each other and they are meant for each other. We will be doing both God and them a favour if they get each other." She stopped talking and then went on in a low voice: "We will wait for your answer." "Of course," said Salma, "but I have to talk to my husband and my children, we need to have some time to think about it." There was a moment's silence and Halima looked at the clock again. "I have to go." Before she left she said goodbye to Shirin. She blushed when she saw the gleam in Halima's eyes. On her way out, Halima repeated once again: "We will be waiting for your positive answer."

When dark fell and Shirin's family gathered around the black-and-white TV to watch the Arabic series, Salma raised her voice. "I have something important to say. Halima was here today and asked for Shirin's hand on behalf of her son." Addo looked dismissive and waited to see what father Nadir would say about this. Nadir was a God fearing man. He sat in silence and thought about it for a long time. Shirin's cheeks were pale and with bashful eyes and a bowed head she waited to hear what her father would say. Salma too waited for a response from her husband but he was still thinking and appeared to have his thoughts elsewhere. "Are you dreaming, Nadir? I asked you about something very important and you just sit there silent with your thoughts elsewhere." This sounded the starting gun for a long and heated discussion among family members and they spoke for a long time until father at last said: "I like them, they are a nice family and Raza is a nice and good person, a son-inlaw like you wish to have." Salma added: "He is good but we are not giving our daughter away, they'll have to buy a lot of gold jewellery and I intend to demand a big dowry. In addition, they'll have to wait a long

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time for the answer, at least a week or two, we only have one daughter and we intend to see that she does well!" Colour returned to Shirin's cheeks. She couldn't believe her ears, she had finally gotten what she wanted most of all in life. Her brother Addo was dissatisfied but didn't show it. He sat in silence without looking at anyone. But at the same time, inside himself he felt very relieved now that Raza would become his brother-in-law and he would no longer have to protect the family's honour.

Two weeks later the news that Raza was waiting for came. "Raza's family can now officially send people to ask for Shirin's hand. Nadir has consented to the marriage." The news almost caused Raza to faint for joy. His face radiated and he hugged everyone. "This is the best thing that has happened to me!" His joy knew no bounds, he was deeply in love and couldn't see anything else in his future than to share it with Shirin. Now he knew that he would be able to cope with the distance and the time left being separated from her. Halima, Amina and a few other women visited Shirin's family and they agreed on the details and conditions for the marriage that all of them gave their approval for and the next day it was decided that the men would be sent to Shirin's family!

The autumn evening was dark and it was approaching eight o'clock when Mullah Jalal together with Karim Bey, Omar and several other relatives and acquaintances visited Shirin's family. The men went inside and sat down in the living room and everyone stood up and shook hands with the guests before they sat down. Shirin's father, Nadir, sat quietly and collected while Addo appeared to be as tense and concentrated as the other siblings. Women were not included in events of this kind, only men. Jalal read a sacred hymn in a grave voice and everyone listened in massive silence. The only thing audible was Jalal's chanting voice. When he was finished reading the hymn he began to talk about the message in it. "Marriage makes life complete, God always blesses those who follow Him and his Prophet. All of you know Raza as a nice and well bred young man with a bright future. He comes from a fine Muslim family and your family is just the same. And now we have come here to your home, Nadir. We want you to make him your son-in-law!" Just as Jalal mentioned the word son-in-law cousin Omar, being the youngest man in the gathering, got up and went up to Nadir and kissed his hands. Nadir kissed Omar's head and nodded. In this way the matter had been taken care of and the men went on to talk

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about other things while they drank their tea and ate some of Salma's homemade bread. From that day on, Raza and Shirin were engaged, something that became common knowledge in the neighbourhood as early as the next day.

At home in Suleimaniya Raza had been restless and nervous since the men had left. He asked his mother the same question time and again. He finally became such an annoyance that Halima tried to silence him but to no avail. "Don't you think they'll go back on their word, it's been known to happen before." Little Brother thought that the whole business was silly and became irritated. "Do you think that you're the only person in the world that's going to get married? That you're the only one in love? You're an adult now, have a little more patience!" Raza shook his head and hardly heard half of what Little Brother had said, his thoughts being so far away.

The following day Omar came with the news and Raza shouted with relief and embraced everyone. A few days later Raza travelled to Halabja and, together with Shirin and a few other relatives, they signed the marriage document at the courthouse. Now they were man and wife according to law but they were not allowed to be together unless a third person was present since they had to wait until the wedding night before they became man and wife in the true sense. They met every now and then when Raza visited Shirin at her home or they spoke with each other by phone. Raza fantasised about the day when they would meet without being watched with prying eyes following them around wherever they went.

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People were exhausted by the war and all the killing. Life in Halabja was equally unsafe for everyone and the days unfolded according to a never-changing pattern. They were locked into their set positions and forced to live with it. People looked at their family members and lived with the awareness that they could fall victim to an artillery shell at any moment. They saw their hopes of a change crushed time and again and for days and nights on end they were forced to stay inside their homes as if they were under house arrest. In three years Halabja had turned into a hell on earth. Almost every day victims of the fighting were buried very discreetly - kids, young people and old people next to each other. After each battle one could see ambulances and other cars come to collect the dead and the wounded. Time passed and people said that everything had been better before. The people in town lost their faith in the possibility of peace returning.

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The war continued and got even more brutal and bloody since the methods were constantly being improved upon. Those that were captured were often executed on the spot. The parties to the conflict sent hired killers in each other's direction and felt safe. Those who were not killed in battle may have been executed in their sleep. Ahmad was no longer the boy who got beaten every day by the well-built teacher Hussain or by the tailor. He was a captain and loved and feared at the same time by his men. He was among the most hated persons on the breakaway faction's list. He fought like an animal in every battle and never surrendered. He had been wounded several times during the last three years and every time Fata heard the rumours she ran like crazy straight to the Iranian border to go fetch him. Ahmad was furious and wanted to send her back each time but Fata didn't care what he said. "You ungrateful boy," she said in a rage and cast a disapproving glance at the men in his group. "Do you think that it's easy for me to hear that something has happened to my son? Should I sit at home and wait while you lie here and perish in pain. I'll come here a thousand times if needed!"

Many young people in Halabja were proud of Ahmad and identified with him, and outdid each other when they exchanged the latest rumours about him. You could see the gleam in their eyes when his name was mentioned and every time when there were rumours that he had been killed they mourned deeply as if he had been one of their closest family members. "He's just like you and me, like anybody else, but in battle he's unbeatable. In just a few years he's become great and renowned. His men will go to their death for him." "He is a great hero that has never beaten a farmer or touched a woman. He hasn't said a word about anyone and has never taken bribes or tortured anyone." "No, he's not like that." "He and his men have murdered a hundred dissidents." "In one ambush alone he killed two military vehicles full of soldiers." "He's a cold-blooded murderer and many will celebrate his death." "Think of it, a nineteen-year-old becoming a captain!" "He's courageous, has good morals and has only killed others in battle, a man like that will certainly become a colonel eventually." "He has nine lives like a cat, they tried to get him with everything, sent people and infiltrated his unit. Several have been killed near him but not him. He has a guardian angel watching over him and he got off with minor injuries."

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"They say that he's learned to be on his guard even when he sleeps."

Black Nasim who had killed Ahmad's father in a clan feud was frequently on his guard and felt uncomfortable every time Ahmad managed to escape an attempt on his life. Deep inside himself he felt that as long as Ahmad was alive he would never be left alone. Anyone killing someone else's father can hardly sleep soundly at night, revenge can come at any moment. Nasim was more or less forced to cross over to the breakaway faction. He could not rely on anyone except his close relatives whom he always took with him when he travelled or walked anywhere. He was also on his guard during battles so that no traitor would be able to shoot him from behind. At the same time he knew that this was a good opportunity to murder Ahmad who was now not only an enemy of Nasim but of all the dissidents as well. Ahmad was a thorn in the side of the breakaway faction since he and his armed men had put a stop to every attack when the dissidents tried to capture the Peshmerga base in Tawela. He and his men left hundreds of dead and wounded after them. The dissidents became enraged at him and everyone swore to avenge his death and murder him.

Then one day when Black Nasim was on leave he travelled straight off to his family in Baghdad where they lived safe and sound. The kids came running up to him, clinging to his legs and asking him if he had bought any presents. But Nasim just patted them. "Off with you!" Nasim turned to his wife: "I'm hungry, what have you made for dinner?" "Your favourite dish, of course." Nasim's eyes sparkled again and he sat down at the table. Before he managed to finish his meal a car was heard out on the street and his little boy ran to the window to see who it was. There was a knock on the door right afterwards and two plain-clothes men entered. Nasim lit up. "Come in, there's food for you too." The men declined. "That'll have to wait for another time. The leader wants to see you." "Me?" Nasim sounded surprised. They drove straight to political headquarters and before they entered the men checked to see that Nasim was unarmed.

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"The days pass," said the leader, sitting behind his desk. and that brat is alive, how long can we let him live, isn't it enough that he's killed so many of our men! I've been told that you're the only one who could manage to do it!" "I'll be happy to send the dog to his death," Nasim said in a firm and convincing tone of voice. "I have a man who can do it." "Who?" "His name is Azi and he's fearless and never hesitates to kill. It's as easy for him to kill as it is to drink water. He has no qualms in his body and is furthermore an expert on all sorts of explosives since he went through tough military training. He has only one problem and that is that he drinks and plays cards practically every day." "A pity," said the leader, "that he hasn't made better use of his talents." "And one more thing," said Nasim, "He always needs money. He's ruined his mother." "Money is no object." "We'll pay half first," said Nasim, "And when he's done what he's supposed to we'll pinch him. I don't want it going the rounds of all the town's bars that I'm involved, I have to think of the future and can't afford having any more enemies after my neck." "Do what is needed, as long as the bastard gets killed!"

The next day Black Nasim drove back to Suleimaniya. He was in the best of spirits and called out his men. "Go find Azi!" Only around evening time did they find Azi in a bar in Suleimaniya. He was so drunk that he could hardly get up. Nasim turned to one of the men. "Take care of him and let him sleep it off." The next day Azi woke up surrounded by men in a serious mood. He feared he might have done something terrible. "What did I do this time? I have such a terrible headache!" "Get some headache tablets and take him into the office!" said Nasim and turned to Azi. "Don't panic, you haven't done anything. Just follow me to the office."

They sat in Nasim's office behind closed doors and Nasim prepared Azi for the assignment very thoroughly. Azi brightened up when he heard money mentioned. "I'll kill anyone you want if somebody gives me money, and it's no big deal killing one of those blackguards. I'll send Ahmad to hell for you but I have to be paid well."

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"Of course," Nasim said, "You'll get your part of the deal, one-half before and the other half afterwards, but if you screw us you'll have prayed your last prayer. We won't leave you alone, we'll take revenge on your family. And you have to keep your mouth shut and not talk to anyone. Where's your gun?" "It's at home, hanging on the wall." "Hurry and get it, you have to keep watch at headquarters together with One Eye." "Of course," said Azi in a contented tone of voice.

From that day on he came to Nasim's unit more and more often. He kept guard with One Eye on several nights. At the same time, he was close to losing all of his advance payment in poker games. One evening Nasim spoke with Azi in private. "Now it's time to make your move! Disarm One Eye and take him to the Peshmerga base. Ahmad, that idiot, doesn't trust anyone and even if you join him there's a risk that he'll disarm you. He is used to saying once a breakaway - always a breakaway, but you needn't be afraid. Tomorrow we'll arrest your papa, in order to dispel any suspicions. I promise you that he'll be treated like my own father. Don't worry, we're only going to arrest him for make-believe but everyone at headquarters will think it's alright." Azi sat in silence for a considerable while. "My father has a weak heart and he won't make it, can't you leave him alone?" "No," said Nasim firmly, "And, by the way, you got your advance. If you have any regrets you can just give the money back and we'll find someone else for this job." "What advance, I've lost almost all of it on gambling!" "Thats your problem." Azi felt that he had no choice, he would have to do as Nasim planned. He sounded saddened: "But you have to promise me that you'll treat him well!" "On my honour!" They shook hands with each other and Nasim wished him good luck. After this conversation with Azi, Nasim took out a cigarette. He felt considerable relief. He would be killing two birds with one stone. On the one hand he would be getting rid of One Eye and that would open up the road to One Eye's wife whom Nasim had always had an eye out for and on the other hand Azi's reputation with the Peshmergas would be raised in this way and all suspicions that he wasn't loyal would be done away with.

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That evening it was Azi's and One Eye's turn to keep guard together. Azi suddenly pointed his rifle at One Eye. "Throw away your arms, otherwise I'll kill you!" One Eye at first thought he was joking and he threw his weapon down on the ground smiling. But Azi was completely serious and tied him up with his hands behind his back. When he pushed him down to the ground and put a gag on him One Eye grasped that not all was well. Azi whispered in his ear: "Come with me to the mountains, you've become my hostage, mate!" They went out in the dark of night and One Eye could not do anything but go along with him. In his back he felt the muzzle of Azi's machine gun. They went through town towards the mountains. The next day many people in Suleimaniya talked about that night's event. It was the first time that anyone had taken a dissident hostage. "Azi took One Eye hostage and shot at the others that lay there sleeping, he was close to killing Black Nasim." "Now he's with the Peshmergas, we'll see how many others he kills. That bastard is flat out mad."

They came to Lake Zalm and Azi took off the bag of provisions he carried on his back. He started to eat and then offered some to One Eye. "Here you are, eat!" "Do you think I'll eat your food? I thought you were my friend, you ratter, you'll be damned wherever you go! You know that I have a family that is dependent on me." "Stop complaining and eat something instead," Azi interrupted him. He looked out over the lake that was lying there peaceful and quiet. Suddenly he took out a hand grenade and threw it in the water. The water bubbled up and after a little while thousands of dead fish of all sizes floated up to the surface. Azi cried out for joy." "Don't you see how many fish I killed!" "Thanks to people like you we'll soon have neither game nor fish left any more." "Shut up!" Azi pushed One Eye in front of him and they hiked on till noon when they got to the Peshmerga base in Tawela. Azi was given a warm welcome. His mouth started off: "Look what I've brought along, no one less than One Eye himself. Nasim's righthand man! Twice I tried to kill that blackguard Black Nasim but unfortunately I failed." One Eye sat silently, crumpled up, not being sure what they were going to do with him. Azi took One Eye to the brig and told the guard: "Here's a customer for you, take good care of him."

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He laughed and winked.

Azi joined Ahmad's unit. It was a time when many from the two rival parties sent someone from their own men over to the enemy's troops in order to attack when they got the chance. Ahmad didn't like people who switched sides and called them disloyal. He never trusted them and always kept an extra eye on them. Time passed and Azi became all the more integrated in the group. He was close to being killed on one occasion when their vehicle drove over a landmine but he managed to escape even though all the others in the car were killed. Azi's vulgar mouth was constantly in motion, he damned the breakaway faction and promised to give them a lesson they would never forget. As an expert on explosives he knew everything about gunpowder and time bombs.

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A Landrover full of armed dissidents stopped in Azi's neighbourhood and one of the men in uniform got out of the car and made his way forward to Azi's house. "Not the first one, the second one to the right!" the others shouted form the car. Everyone in the car got out and entered the house without knocking. Azi's father was so scared that he was close to fainting. "Pack your bag and come with us! Don't you know what your son has done? Black Nasim is waiting for you!" Azi's father felt there was no point in offering any resistance, he went out slowly to the car and turned around a few times with an insecure and sad look. They quickly drove off.

Black Nasim was enchanted with One Eye's wife Rabia and he frequently fantasised about spending a night with her. He envied One Eye for having such a beautiful wife. Now that he had gotten rid of One Eye he had the chance. It was obvious to him that Rabia needed a man like him. Every day he visited Rabia and expressed his regret about what had happened and asked her if she needed anything. One late night he broke into Rabia's house. He waited until her two-year-old son had gone to sleep and then snuck in to where she was sleeping on her mattress. He put his hand over her mouth. "Be still, or I'll kill you! Do as I say and nothing will happen to you." Rabia tried to resist but had little chance against Nasim's strength and bulk. She had sensations of being strangled. He hit her on the face and over her entire body. She couldn't move when he penetrated her.

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The next day Rabia wept all alone. She thought of her lost honour, of her husband and wondered who she could turn to. What did she have to resist Black Nasim with? She was lost whatever happened, it made no difference if what had happened had happened with or without her consent. Nasim was a man, and not just any man, a man with power. What could she do? She thought of taking her life, but changed her mind when she saw her little boy sleeping in his crib.

After the first night the path was clear for Nasim who returned as often as he could or felt like it. Night after night he snuck back into Rabia's house and she was silent and hardened. With the passage of time she became more and more listless. She was pale and had dark rings under her eyes and no longer spoke with anyone. "Look at Rabia!" said the women on her street. "She thinks her husband is the only one who's not with his family." "After a few lonely nights she looks like an old hag."

Fatso's wish had come true, he was now Hairless's right-hand man, what he had always wanted to be. They got along fine and had much in common, their penchant for women among other things. Fatso enjoyed his new role, he felt he would someday be a fear inspiring man. He was always in the line furthest back when a battle was going on. During the three years he had been with the Peshmergas he had not been wounded or more closely involved in any heavy fighting. When they visited the villages to eat or rest up, on the other hand, he was among the first to enter the village, walking behind Hairless. He had eyes like a hawk, always on the lookout for women. If any of them seemed to be a little more interested in him or if she looked particularly pretty then he selected her family for a visit. One heard rumours that both Hairless and Fatso went after women during their wandering around and when Fatso went too far and got a girl pregnant there was no longer any doubt that the rumours were true. All hell broke loose and Fatso was close to getting killed but thanks to Hairless, who arbitrated, the matter was settled. Fatso grudgingly gave in and married the girl. But Fatso was never satiated when it came to women. He did not feel that he had anything to hide and bragged about his conquests and his superiority as a lover. He was a constant guest with many women during his unit's wandering around the countryside. Hairless had another strategy in the villages where he felt that he could afford a bonus for himself. He sent the husband in the family off on some business or accused him of something. The husband was led off and the path to the woman was open for Hairless and Fatso.

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In the middle of the night, first Hairless went to the woman's home and took what he wanted. Then it was Fatso's turn. They were always calculating and knew how to select those who were at a disadvantage, unable to defend themselves.

It was almost nine o'clock and Hairless and his troops entered the village. Fatso whispered something in Hairless's ear and the latter answered with a smile. The troops entered the mosque and the villagers got food for them while Hairless and Fatso pounded on Fatuma's door. Fatuma's husband was horrified when he saw Hairless and shouted: "Wake up, Fatuma! We have Peshmergas here, quick make some food!" Fatuma woke up and served warm food which the men quickly devoured like hungry wolves. Fatuma's husband sat silently by and stared at them. Hairless slowly took out a letter and put it in front of the man. "This is an important letter that involves life and death, take it to Doran at the Peshmerga base." When Fatuma heard Hairless she knew what was in store and that it was not just food they intended to take from her. She got up and said in a firm tone of voice: "I'll leave my children with my mother and go with my husband, if it's an important letter than we have to deliver it quickly!" Without waiting for an answer she awakened her two children and made a gesture in the direction of the children's beds. "You can stay here and get a good night's sleep!" Hairless couldn't believe his ears. When the family had left he shouted at Fatso: "This is all your fault, you jerk, you said it would be a simple match and the odds were a hundred percent that we'd make it. We took a wide detour for Fatuma's sake and now we go home empty-handed." Fatso didn't allow himself to be intimidated. "You can't score the maximum points every time. Last week you told me I was a genius." Hairless laughed and patted Fatso on the cheek.

55

It was around noon one day in January and it had been raining for a week. The weather in these parts was unsteady at this time of year. Frequently a [raw biting wind] was blowing and everyone thought that it could start snowing at any moment. Azi woke up in a bad mood. He cursed the weather. He spoke to himself:

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"My God, how much longer do I have to wait here, I can't stand it any more, I haven't drunk anything or played poker for over two months." He melted into the group and no one suspected or was interested in asking him anything. He waited for the right opportunity to make his move and ultimately it came. Hairless and his gang were out wandering as usual and Azi had heard that Ahmad and Doran were visiting a wounded Peshmerga in Iran. They were expected back later during the night. Azi eyes were once again full of energy.

Towards evening, Azi snuck out of the barracks. It was snowing gently and all was quiet except for the pitch black darkness stretching as far as the eye could see. Azi broke into Ahmad's barrack which consisted of two rooms with a flat roof. He placed a delayedaction pack of explosives next to Ahmad's bed. He then crawled out gently and carefully with his hand on the trigger. He also has a few hand grenades with him. Azi began to go back over the same road that he had come and he was just about to enter the barracks again when he discovered the guard that he had thought was off duty due to the weather. He turned again towards the cliffs but had some trouble finding the way. Finally, he followed the right path. After a half-hour he got to the other side of the cliff and only then did he feel safe and breathed a sigh of relief. He took out a cigarette that was hard to light and so he threw it away and it rolled down the wall of the mountain. He looked for his pocket torch and thought that if only he followed the damned path he would get to his old village, High Mountain, where he had been a shepherd as a boy.

Azi knew these mountains, people said about him that he could walk through these parts with his eyes blindfolded. His father had once upon a time owned a large farm with lots of animals. But at the beginning of the Peshmerga war the military lost fifteen men in an ambush and they avenged their dead by firing artillery and mortars at the village for hours on end and Azi's family fled head over heels. When the army entered the village they set fire to all the buildings and burned down everything that was alive and left there. Azi's family lost everything in one blow and the family ended up in a camp near the Iranian border where Azi developed his interest in fire and everything that had to do with explosives. When the civil war started, the family moved to Suleimaniya. Azi's father sold his land and opened a store where he sold agricultural products. Azi jointed the army and was trained as an elite soldier. The training opened up new paths for him and he was discharged from the army at the request of the breakaway faction and instead became an important auxiliary for them. With his skills he directly or indirectly caused the death of hundreds of people and injured many others. It was said of him that he had shown

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courage in battle and that he frequently took the initiative in executing Peshmergas and Iranian militiamen. He trusted no one, nor could he rely on himself either. Azi left no tracks in his wake along the mountain paths. Finally he breathed a sigh of relief since he thought he was now safe. After about one hour's hiking he should be in the vicinity of High Mountain. "I made it!" He took a deep breath and lit a cigarette that he could smoke in peace and quiet this time. He felt relieved and thought that danger was now behind him and that he would soon be home again. "Tomorrow my name will be famous! I killed the ruthless blackguards and this will raise my status several times over. Everyone will be talking about me. I did what many others had failed at doing! Tomorrow neither Ahmad nor Doran will be there anymore!"

He hurried on as if someone were chasing after him. Late at night he reached High Mountain. Instinctively he put his hand on the trigger when he came up to the family's old house and saw a car parked outside it. He went up to the door and banged hard on it. "Open up, it's the Peshmerga!" Inside in the house the family woke up and he could hear the woman and the children shouting and crying out loud. "Stop whining, grandma, haven't you seen Peshmergas before? Stop for God's sake or I'll beat you black and blue, you bastards!" Azi shouted in a loud voice: "Don't you recognise me? I'm Azi, you bastards, that you bought the land from for a cheap price. Give me the keys to the car, or I'll shoot your damned family dead, you fucking yokel." Azi pounded even harder on the door. "Give me the keys and come get the car tomorrow in Halabja!"

The farmer was scared to death. Quivering with fear, he stretched out his hand with the car keys. Azi snatched them quickly and simultaneously kicked the farmer down so that he fell over and began bleeding from the nose. He left without saying anything more and left the terrified family behind him, getting into the Landrover and driving off fast through the village. He increased his speed and quickly approached town. When Hairless's armed men heard the sound of a car in that otherwise so quiet night they quickly blocked the road with large stones and lay on guard at the edge of the

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road. Azi came at high speed and when he saw the roadblock he braked and tried to drive around it. He didn't succeed but instead was hit by a bullet fired from the side of the road. He was bleeding from the palm of one of his hands and brought the car to a standstill since he had grasped that he was surrounded. With his hands above his head he emerged from the car. Blood ran over his face which had a reddish glow when lit up by the hand torches. Several raucous voices could be heard: "Throw down your weapons!" Azi took out his weapon and threw it in front of him and then put his hands up again. Hairless came forward. "Look here, isn't it our old Azi? What are you doing here, my little mate, where were you headed for?" Azi showed no sign of fear. "You were close to killing me! I'm tired of the civil war and don't want to be involved anymore. I want to live like a normal human being again. My papa is imprisoned in his old age." He sighed: "I'm not switching sides, I just want to turn in my arms and do what I can to get them to release him. I simply can't stand being involved any longer. The car is not mine, the farmer in High Mountain owns it." "Of course," said Hairless, "Obviously we'll let you go but first we have to take care of you since you've been hit, you can die from loss of blood. Take off your damned shawl." Hairless bandaged the wound very thoroughly. "Now you're not bleeding, you can go now, my friend!" Azi couldn't believe his ears when he turned to rush away. "Stop, you bastard," shouted Hairless. "You're not getting off so easy, I know your type!" He shot at the ground in front of Azi. "Come closer, you bastard." The men surrounded him again and Hairless laughed out loud. "You blackguard, do you think it's so simple to switch sides! To have me let you go and maybe next time get killed by your firing. You can rest up a while in our custody. I hope you can manage it there for a long time." He sneered wryly. "You should know one more thing, now that you've given yourself up to me and that's that I never liked you!"

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"I haven't done anything," shouted Azi, "I'm simply tired of life as a Peshmerga. You have my weapon, what else do you want?" Hairless laughed. "I know your kind, you'll never take it easy. I'm taking you back to Ahmad and Doran and I'll let them decide what we should do with you." "My father has trouble with his heart, he won't make it much longer." Hairless went taut. "I'm not going to kill you, you blackguard, but you'll get a hit of a licking in advance, who knows, maybe you've done something wrong at the Peshmerga base." He struck Azi with the butt of his rifle so that a tooth was broken off and blood ran. "Close your fucking trap!" He ordered his men to tie Azi up and Fatso rushed up and tied him up and kicked and hit him several times with the butt of his rifle. Fatso shouted: "You fucking traitor, we'll meet again in our detention cell where you'll get more of this!"

Hairless got into the car with his body guards. "We'll see you again at the Peshmerga base," he shouted, "Good luck, Azi! We'll see you tomorrow!" He sped over the uneven road and the car vibrated the entire time. Fatso sat in the front. He turned to Hairless: "Should we give back the car?" "No, by no means, we have to be strict, don't forget that! No one has any respect for us, that damned farmer helped Azi to flee and we have to punish him. We won't kill him but he'll have to come to us to get the car and then we'll see what we should do with him. A good licking and two hundred dinars fine, maybe!" He laughed loudly.

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The following morning Ahmad woke up early. He was miffed at having to go out in the cold and snowy weather. He was on his way to the outhouse when he suddenly heard a loud explosion. Everyone on the base woke up and rushed to their arms, ready to do battle. Shouts and cries rang out on what had until then been a quiet morning. Ahmad ran back as quick as he could and saw glass from broken window panes lying all over the yard.

When he entered, he saw Doran lying on his mattress. He was bleeding heavily. Ahmad turned him over and listened to his heart. He called out and patted him on the cheeks but Doran was as lifeless as a stone. When he saw that he couldn't do any more he got a blanket and laid it over him. With tears in his eyes he said resolutely: "Those bastards wanted to murder the two of us!" His eyes darkened. "Tell everyone to gather in the yard. We've been the object of a bomb attack." It didn't take long before the despondent Peshmerga men stood gathered around Doran's body. It was immediately noticed that Azi was missing. "Bring that snake here!" One of Ahmad's bodyguards rushed off to the barracks and checked Azi's bed where he only found a few pillows. He shouted: "That bastard tricked us! He made up the bed with pillows!"

Ahmad's voice was sombre with contained fury. "Today we lost a man who has sacrificed everything for his people, he was loyal, brave, straight and like a brother and a father to all of us!" He stopped and looked away before continuing: "He had no family of his own and no children, we were his family, and now he's gone but he remains with us in our thoughts!" He turned again to the men. "I swear to God that I'll avenge his death, and that I'll kill all those who were involved and raze their houses to the ground! His blood will not have been shed without revenge! I promise to kill the ruthless bastard! And I'll find him even if he hides in hell!"

The Peshmergas took Doran's death hard and he was mourned since he had been liked and respected by his men. He had been the first Peshmerga in the area when the Peshmerga war started, life as a Peshmerga had become for him a type of marriage that he

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never divorced himself from. He was well-known and widely talked about in these parts and he was known to be hard and disciplined but also for being just to his men. He was a man of character and never took bribes. He never executed captured dissidents or soldiers and no one else in his unit dared do so either. The men looked up to him and could have sacrificed their lives for him. As righteous as he was to his men, he was just as merciless in battle and that is how he became a captain without ever having undergone any military training. "There'll never be another one born like he was!" they said of him. Others said he was a cold-blooded murderer and that he was the one who fired artillery at civilians in Halabja and caused many to be killed or severely wounded. Towards noon the Peshmergas had finally dug a grave in the rocky ground. They buried Doran temporarily, thinking that perhaps one day when peace came they would be able to give him a permanent resting place in Halabja.

Hairless who had driven across into Iran got to the Peshmerga base after Doran's burial. He was shaken when Ahmad told him what had happened. Hairless hissed through his teeth: "That damned idiot, Azi! I'll break every bone in his body!" "The bastard fled and is probably now in Halabja," Ahmad answered, just as despondently. "But I swear I'll find him wherever he hides!" "You don't have to!" Hairless's face lit up. "He's on his way here and he's coming on his own steam!" "Is this true?" "That swine was unlucky in the bad weather and ended up in our net! And now he's mine, I was the one who captured him. He'll have to confess and then I'll kill him slowly." Hairless laughed. "He's already slightly injured since he got a good licking," said Fatso proudly. Ahmad felt greatly relieved and embraced Hairless and Fatso. "Well done," he said repeatedly. "He's yours!" He called for a pair of binoculars and one of the Peshmergas got him one. Ahmad looked through them and he seemed to be impatient and restless. When he finally caught sight of the men coming with Azi he shot aimlessly with his machine gun and called for Hairless. "They're here now!"

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Hairless's armed men went after Azi who was dragging himself with his eyes fixed on the ground. He knew what he had coming and would have preferred a single bullet quickly and straight to the point. Azi lifted up his head when he heard Ahmad's cry "Murderer, you fucking dog, it was you who murdered Doran and it was you who also tried to kill me!" Azi felt considerable disappointment that Ahmad had escaped. "Do what you want with me, I don't care, I know my life will end here, so why not shoot me on the spot? Are you so fucking stupid that you think I'm going to ask for mercy?" He spat in front of himself. "It can't be that easy," said Hairless firmly, "A blackguard like you deserves to suffer before you die." He turned to the men. "Take off his clothes and tie him up to this post!" Fatso quickly pulled off Azi's clothes and Azi stood there stark naked in the cold wind. He tied him up to one of the barracks' pillars the same way his mother had occasionally tied him up when he was a child. Fatso kicked Azi and beat his face till he bled. Fatso called out excited to Hairless: "Now he's yours!" Hairless rushed forward. He swung his whip several times in the air and went up to his victim, laughing. Hairless lifted up Azi's head and aimed a punch at it with his fist. "Wake up, you bastard!" Azi opened his eyes and tried to spit in Hairless's face. This made Hairless furious and he shouted like a madman: "Did you spit at me, you swine?" He tore open his knife and cut off one of Azi's ears. "There are plenty of hungry dogs here who need to eat some pork!" He threw the blood-soaked ear on the ground and let loose with his whip over the defenceless body, which was soon covered with blood. As he whipped he bellowed out his contempt. "Confess, you bastard, who sent you? Who is it that's behind this? If you want to suffer slowly then so be it. And if you want to get it over as quickly as possible then give us the answer! This is just the beginning, next time I'll poke out your eyes!" Azi was in the process of losing consciousness but this didn't stop Hairless from continuing his interrogation. "Who sent you here, who's behind this assassination?"

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He crushed one of Azi's toes after another with the butt of his rifle and then suddenly threw his weapon away. "Now that's enough for this round but I'll be back in a little while, now it's Fatso's turn to entertain you!" Fatso, no longer sneering, socked Azi in the stomach in several places. With quivering hands he cut off the other ear. Hairless went out of his mind when he saw this and rushed forward, pushing him away. "What are you doing, you bastard? He shouldn't get out of it this easily, he has to confess first."

Azi's mutilated body was a revolting sight and many of the Peshmerga men standing around turned their heads away. Ahmad who didn't like seeing anyone suffer was busy getting the barracks back in shape after the explosion. When he came out and saw Azi he rushed up to Hairless. "Leave him alone! I'll take over now. You've done your job." Hairless looked dissatisfied but said nothing and simply went up to Azi and loosened the ropes. Azi fell lifeless on the ground. A Peshmerga with some medical training was ordered to bandage him so that he would stop bleeding

Several days later Azi regained consciousness. Ahmad sat with him every day. He looked at Ahmad with empty eyes. "I'll talk with you, but not with that bastard Hairless. What's done is done and I don't know myself why I accepted the money. But it wasn't for money either, it was fate. What's done is done, I dont regret anything. Finish me off quickly, I confess!" He lowered his gaze. "Your father's murderer Black Nasim is behind all of this. It was his idea that I should disarm One Eye and bring him here. That's all I have to say. Don't let that bastard loose on me again! I killed Doran and I want to be killed by you and no one else." "I don't kill my prisoners. But if you had been Black Nasim then I would have killed you with my bare hands." He went out and quickly called for them to go and get Hairless. Ahmad whispered to him: "It was Black Nasim that sent him." "Has he confessed?" Hairless sounded astonished. He cocked his gun and went in to Azi. "I'll make it quick. He won't have to suffer anymore!"

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It was a late afternoon and the news of Doran's death stirred people up. Those who sided with the Peshmergas were sad and mourned him in silence while those who sided with the breakaway faction were jubilant. "Serves him right," said someone, "That murderer of women and children, he was the one that fired artillery at the city when so many got killed. Do you remember Blue Eye?" "Let the blackguard rest in foreign soil, he's not welcome here in Halabja!" "He would sully Halabja's soil, that murderer of civilians!" In Suleimaniya Halima and Amina mourned for him despite the fact that they had always had a tense and bad relationship with him. Now that he was dead, all was forgiven. All friends and Peshmerga supporters visited them and expressed their sympathies. Omar tried to get back Doran's body to have him buried in town but the dissidents wouldn't allow it.

Black Nasim was being celebrated like a hero by the breakaway faction and the entire leadership spoke only of him and his courageous exploits. His time had come and he was very often in an excellent mood. Black Nasim became more and more powerful with everyday that passed. He was shown considerable appreciation by his leaders and rose in rank and was now made chief of the district in Suleimaniya when it came to security issues. In the evenings he continued to visit Rabia and he was now a constant guest in her bed. The neighbours frequently saw him at her house and the gossip was set off again. No one could do anything against Nasim but One Eye's wife was called a whore and a slut and the older women felt she could just as well be stoned to death.

At the Peshmerga base two weeks had passed and Ahmad could think of nothing but how he could murder Nasim. This would not be an easy task. Nasim was a powerful man who was always surrounded by his trusty men. Every day new reports came in about him and Hairless one day read in the reports that Nasim was screwing with One Eye's wife while her husband was imprisoned by the Peshmergas. Hairless's eyes triumphed. He hurried off to Ahmad and showed him the letter. "Read this, Ahmad!" Ahmad read the report but couldn't get the point with it. "What does this have to do with our plans to kill him?"

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"Let me take care of this, these are my hunting grounds!" Hairless, together with Fatso, went directly to the barracks where One Eye was imprisoned and ordered the guard to bring One Eye out. "We'll just have a little chat with him." The guard soon came, pushing and kicking One Eye who was in very bad shape, emaciated from hunger, haggard and yellow in the face as he was. He was very dirty and gave off a stench both from his body and from his mouth. When he staggered out into the daylight he had to cover his eyes with his hands as if he couldn't see any more. Hairless went over to him slowly like a snake approaching his prey. In a friendly tone of voice he asked him: "How are you, One Eye?" "You can see me, why do you ask?" Hairless asked the guard to boil some water and get a bath ready for him. "How many times have I told you to take care of your prisoners!" He gave the guard a kick. "I'll disarm you if this happens again." The guard didn't seem to pay much attention to Hairless's threats since it was obvious to him that Hairless now had his sights on something. "Get some food!" shouted Hairless.

One Eye took a bath and got some food and drink. He was astonished by the sudden change and couldn't quite believe that this was reality and not a dream or a fantasy. In his emaciated condition he couldn't assess the situation. With shaky hands he ate up what had been served to him and simply hoped that his pleas were now being heard. As evening approached and One Eye began to regain some strength, Hairless came to him and put his hand on his shoulder. He showed him the report from Suleimaniya. "Now you know who's behind this dirty business and who helped Azi take you prisoner! Black Nasim wanted to get at your wife Rabia!" One Eye's had tears in his eyes and he shook from restrained fury. "The damned whore, she's humiliated me!" He was silent and then shouted: "I swear on the Koran that if only I survive I'll kill that bastard Nasim!" "Take it easy," Hairless aid, "One has to be careful with Black Nasim. Listen carefully to me, that day will come! I'm going to send you with Fatso to headquarters and on the way near Suleimaniya you will escape and make your way to Suleimaniya by yourself. Write a letter today and say that you're going to be transferred to the central Peshmerga prison where all prisoners are kept."

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One Eye could only nod. "You can do as we say and if you take revenge on Nasim you'll be able to hold your head up high among others since you will have taken revenge on the man who screwed your wife!" Hairless licked his lips. His eyes gleamed. "You will get back both your pride and your dignity." He went on: "But you have to promise to forget about your wife for the time being. You have to make believe that you haven't heard or seen anything before we send Nasim off to hell. Then you can do what you want with your wife! Divorce her! You should know that this is Nasim's fault, he's the one who assaulted her. She had no choice!" One Eye sat silent. Inside himself, he wished he could die rather than swallow this humiliation. He pressed his hands to his forehead. "What am I to do there? I'd be better off taking my own life! I can't help but kill her!" "Whether you kill Rabia or not is your business, but don't do it now, you have to take care of that later," Said Hairless, patting him on the shoulder. He continued then in a friendly and distinct tone of voice: "You'll go back to Black Nasim! The only thing we want you to do is to report to us what he does, where he goes, so that we can set a trap for him. But don't forget one thing!" He raised his voice: "Without your help we are powerless to do anything to him. You don't have to worry about us, in good time someone will contact you, you need only tell him what you know about Black Nasim." "Just that? It all sounds so simple!" "When we've killed that swine, then you'll have a place here among us. A Kalashnikov will be waiting for you and you can bear it with pride and honour. Divorce Rabia and remarry again!"

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It was now 1970 and the month of January was among the coldest in the whole year, it frequently rained and it snowed several times. Fatso took One Eye along and everyone thought that he was on his way to the central prison. The day after they left they began to approach Suleimaniya late in the evening. Heavy rain was falling as it had been doing for hours and Fatso and One Eye were forced to take shelter in a cave along the way.

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"What luck I have!" sighed One Eye. "If it weren't for this damned rain I could have gotten to Suleimaniya by now." "Don't worry, it will soon stop raining and you only have about an hour to go." One Eye lost his patience and said: "I'm going now, give me your rifle and your cartridges!" Fatso gave him his weapon and One Eye strapped the cartridges to his chest. He lifted the rifle over his shoulder. They shook hands and Fatso wished him luck before he turned to go back to the base.

It was late in the evening when One Eye got to Suleimaniya and he first walked through town in the direction of the breakaway faction's headquarters. Black Nasim was highly surprised to see him. "Is it you?" he shouted and stood up. He embraced him and asked One Eye to tell him what had happened. He praised One Eye who told him he had outsmarted Fatso while the latter slept. "Excellent!" he said and shook hands with him again. "And welcome back!" One Eye reported what they had done to Azi. "Pretty horrible, nobody can take that much and still he spat at them without saying a word about anything!" "A real comrade and a real man!" One Eye sat for a moment and then said: "I felt sorry for him but I shouldn't have done so after what he did to me. In any case, it was this that made me realise that I had to escape. Those that end up in prison in Kalakan rarely come out alive. I had luck on my side. When they were taking me there I got the chance to escape. I should have killed him but I didn't do it. He was a soft kind of chap that did me no harm." "That was unreasonable, you could have slaughtered him, or we could have seized him!" "Yes, I should have done it," said One Eye in a low voice. He interrupted himself and looked at the clock and then got up. "No, I have to get home now, I haven't seen my son for two months!" Black Nasim needed all the restraint he could muster to conceal his annoyance. As he watched One Eye rushing across the yard he mumbled to himself: "That damned idiot is back, how am I going to get rid of him." He caressed his gun. "It'll have to be in the next battle. This has put an end to my fun with Rabia."

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One Eye knocked on the door and Rabia opened it. When she saw him she was seized with a feeling of fear. She went up to him to hug him but he pushed her aside and avoided her gaze. She tried to talk with him when he went through the hall but he was completely silent and went into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of his son's bed. "I got your letter," she said, "and I was very sorry." Rabia's eyes had tears in them. She wrapped her arms around herself and continued quietly: "I was worried about you! But I heard that that idiot Azi got God's punishment for what he did to us." One Eye came out of the bedroom. Rabia now saw that he was unarmed. "Get out of here, I'm going to divorce you. Take my son and go home to your mother! I don't want to live with you anymore. I feel that I'm out of my mind but I don't want a bloodbath!" One Eye's raucous voice had awakened the boy who now started to cry. With tears running down her face, Rabia now quickly packed her things. She picked up the boy and called a taxi to take her home to her mother. She didn't turn back when the taxi drove out of the yard. If she had done so she would have seen One Eye's expressionless face before he closed the door behind him.

The next days the neighbours were all busy telling each other about it. "One Eye did the right thing, now she's gone for good. It's just a pity that he didn't kill the slut." When Nasim heard the news he called in One Eye. "Are you crazy, what are you trying to do?" One Eye looked straight at Black Nasim. "You don't know what I've been through in that disgusting dungeon, I was tortured almost every day, they played with me like a cat plays with rats. Don't you think a man goes crazy from that? I don't want to go on living if I can't fight for my honour and for redress of wrongs done by those swine! You can count on me, I'll be with you in any battle." Nasim wondered if he hadn't perhaps misjudged One Eye. He patted him on the shoulder and wondered inside how long it might be until the next battle. From that day on One Eye rarely went home, he stayed at headquarters to demonstrate his readiness and his

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determination to take revenge. At the same time he was unusually attentive to everything said about Nasim and what the dissidents were planning.

It took a week before One Eye could report to the Peshmergas about Nasim's trip to Halabja on Sunday morning. When it was time to go, early in the morning just after dawn Black Nasim and his men left in a Landrover headed for Halabja. Ahmad and ten of his men lay in ambush along the way. Ahmad lay at the side of the road and looked out over the plain. Inside he envisioned how Black Nasim had killed his father when he was six years old. He felt a little sick when he recalled his father's lifeless body with a knife in his heart. He had only heard of Nasim but never seen him but he had come to hate him so intensely that this hatred rubbed off on anybody named Nasim. He had mourned his father's death in secret and all the time while growing up the image of his father's blood-splattered corpse popped up in his thoughts. The day when Nasim was released Ahmad was twelve and that became a new day of mourning for him. Now the chance had come for him to avenge his father's death as well as Doran's and many others' for all the misery he had sustained in life.

Suddenly Nasim's vehicle appeared and the Peshmerga men fired several shots at it with their Kaslashnikovs. The car turned over several times. When Ahmad and his men got to it they saw that Nasim, who was still conscious, was badly injured and that he was trapped in the car. All of his bodyguards were already dead except for one sitting next to Nasim, but the latter could only utter a weak whine. One of Ahmad's men shot him in the head through the broken window pane. Ahmad went up to Nasim and pulled the door open. "Do you need anything, my darling? You must me know well, I'm Captain Ahmad!" He spat at Nasim as he bled. "You were the one who killed my papa, you fucking dog. And it was you who killed my best friend, Doran!" Ahmad put a new magazine in his rifle and pointed the muzzle at Nasim's head. "Now I'm send you off to hell, Black Nasim!" He fired the shot and then went on to shoot another thirty shots at the mutilated body. When he was through he turned away and vomited.

When Fata heard about Nasim's death it was as if her greatest wish had come true. She repeatedly said the same thing to Karim Bey:

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"This is the greatest day in my life. This is the best thing that has happened to me!" Karim Bey shook his head. "That man has destroyed your life, I understand you when you get such a kick out of Nasim's death! Let him burn in hell, the uncouth heathen, he had so many other people's lives on his conscience."

That same evening, One Eye went home to Rabia to have a serious talk with her. "Why did you cheat on me? Don't you know what the punishment is for that?" Rabia wept and scratched her face. "Nasim raped me, I resisted but he was stronger! I was alone and he broke in and forced himself on me. What could I do?" Rabia cried disconsolately. "He ruined my life! I'm impure! Kill me if that's what you want, but get it over with!" One Eye put his hand on his gun. He felt a feebleness overtake him that practically paralysed him. He was no murderer! He had borne arms as a way of supporting his family and he felt guilty about having dragged his family into this dirty game. In a voice that was barely audible he said: "You're not my wife anymore." He took his weapon and went towards the outside door. Late in the afternoon he got back to Ahmad's unit.

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One day in February was not like all the other days. People in Halabja looked happier than they had done for some time. They saw a ray of hope in the negotiations and the prospects of peace increased when President Bakr spoke over all radio and TV stations with Vide-President Saddam sitting next to him. "Beloved Iraqi people, you all know what has happened these last few days. We have been forced to suppress a military coup led by hostile power-crazed people inside the party. These people previously prevented us from solving all of our conflicts by peaceful means but now they are gone. Iraq will be a free country, all political prisoners, Peshmergas and their supporters, all criminals will be amnestied and released, and together we shall all build a new Iraq!"

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The next day, Vice-President Saddam journeyed to the Peshmerga area for talks and negotiations. Feelings in the country were mixed, Peshmerga supporters were happy and hopeful while the breakaway faction kept themselves out of sight. Rumours started coming and were debated from morning to night and people began to think that new times were on the way. "Saddam met the Kurdish leader, Barzani, and any moment now the parties are going to sign a peace treaty for Kurdistan." "We'll have our autonomy, just imagine, at last they got reasonable!" "Naturally, it's never too late!" "The new leadership has shown its good will by releasing all political prisoners!" But the dissidents' doubts and dissatisfied comments could also be heard: "In these parts there has always been war and there will always be war!"

One Sunday morning several days later Alan was together with Raza and Halima on their way to a little town in the south to pick up Mahmod who had now been released. He had been in a prison in the middle of the desert, far away from the nearest city, and where they had to be flown in by helicopter since there were no roads there. After two hours of driving by car, they got to the town where thousands of relatives had gathered to wait for the army's helicopters with those released. In the middle of the day, when the heat was at its worst, a helicopter appeared, scaring hordes of small birds into flight with the din of its motors. The helicopter was greeted by noisy jubilation and people wept from joy and shouted out loud. One could hear high-pitched children's voices shouting: "Papa, papa!" When the helicopter had landed, everyone rushed forward, quite a crowd had collected and it was not easy to find relatives. Everywhere one could see people openly giving vent to their feelings and wanting to share their joy at being reunited with others. People embraced and kissed with tears in their eyes. Raza and Halima's hearts were pounding and they looked but couldn't see Mahmod among the prisoners. A feeling of unease and tension filled them when they saw Alan coming towards them alone. They were a little reassured when he told them he had asked about Mahmod and been told that he could come at any moment. Around them they saw several older women crying hysterically and throwing sand over themselves, having heard that their husbands were dead and buried in the desert because they had been not been able to survive due to general weakness or illness.

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Mahmod came with the helicopter's next trip. He was sitting silent and pensive, in his head he went over all the questions that had occurred to him during the long period of time he sat isolated and imprisoned. After eight long years he was suddenly free to go wherever he wanted. He did not experience the joy that he had expected to on this day that he had longed for so much. Inside, he was filled with anxiety. "Is Raza alive? And is Halima alive? Will someone come to meet me? Do they even know that I have been imprisoned in Nograsalman?" When the helicopter drew close to its landing point he was so afraid that he didn't even dare look at the crowd of people. When they hit the ground and the released prisoners were supposed to get out he looked sad and disconsolate. Inside, he felt considerable emptiness. Mahmod was the first to climb out ahead of all the others and he stared at the crowd but didn't dare hope that he would see any of his relatives. It struck him like a hot stone in his cold chest when he heard someone shout "papa" in Kurdish and his eyes filled up with tears. He turned towards the crowd but didnt see anyone he recognised and once again he was overcome with chilling doubts. Suddenly, someone grabbed his arm and he turned around to face, eye to eye, a young man whose eyes he knew very well.

Mahmod and Raza embraced with tears running down their faces. Halima and Alan pushed their way through the crowd and when they got to Mahmod he took Halima's face in his hands before he pressed her to his chest, crying like a little child. His feelings had got so strong that he feared his heart would not be able to cope with it all. Alan kissed Mahmod's cheeks and pressed his hand to his chest. "God is great!" It was as if the commotion and the people around them were behind a glass partition. They just looked at each other. For the rest of his life Mahmod's thoughts would constantly return to this reunion, which for him was not just a reunion with his relatives but a coming-back to life itself.

Mahmod, Halima, Alan and Raza then collected themselves and went to the car to drive the long and sand-swept road home to Baghdad. Before they got in the car, Mahmod saw his friend Salumi from prison sitting by the roadside with his arms folded. He rushed up to him and the others followed him. "What's the matter with you, Salumi?" Mahmod asked. "No one came to meet me," said Salumi and lifted his head up. "They may all be dead themselves, that must be it, otherwise they would have been here. I have nowhere to go."

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Mahmod patted him on the shoulders and said quietly in a voice that was still breaking: "We're your family, you and I have been imprisoned together for more than eight years, do you think I would leave you here?" Alan came up to them. "You can stay with us, I promise you I'll look up your family, don't be worry, maybe they can't afford to travel this far. Then too, many people have fled. People are spread out all over the country and even outside of it, many have fled to Iran. Maybe they don't even know that you survived!"

On their way to Baghdad, Mahmod and Salumi sat in silence and looked out at the scenery. Many of the places they passed were completely changed. Mahmod turned and looked at Raza who was sitting in the back seat. "You've really gotten big, Raza, you were eleven years old when I left you, and now you're grown up, you even have a beard and a moustache!" "Not just that," Halima interrupted him, "Your son is engaged to Shirin, Nadir's daughter." Mahmod's eyes watered again. "Have you married? Are you happy?" "Very happy," Raza answered and pressed Mahmod's hands. Mahmod went silent. Inside himself, he saw the eleven-year-old boy running after the police car. Without saying anything, he again turned around and looked at Raza where he was sitting, tall and strong with lively warm eyes. He took Raza's hand and squeezed it hard. "How are things in school?" he asked after a while. "I have two years left before I become a senior-level teacher." "Thanks be to God that you are all alive and unhurt!" No one said anything and Mahmod had a vague feeling that something had happened to relatives. "Where is Brahem, didn't he want to come and meet me?" No one answered and there was once again silence in the car. "Is he dead?" he asked awkwardly. "Yes," said Raza. "He was tortured to death." "When?" "He was seized and three years later an announcement came that he had died of heart disease."

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Mahmod said nothing more during their trip home. A sombre mood spread through the car. Mahmod's tears ran without interruption. Alan consoled him: "What has happened has happened! We mourned him and that was a long time ago. We are so happy that you are here with us!"

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Back at Alan's home the relatives had gathered waiting for Mahmod to come home. Kadir was among them and he felt lonely and bitter that his father was not among those released. His desire to meet him again felt unbearable in the middle of all those waiting for Mahmod. Kadir recalled the feeling he had had that day when he sat collapsed on the floor watching the police beat Brahem and take him with them. He wished he could change reality and have Brahem be there among the released prisoners as well. But however hard he tried, he couldn't get away from the fact that Brahem was dead and buried far away in an unknown location.

Towards evening Mahmod arrived and there was great commotion in the neighbourhoods nearby. Everyone came running towards the car, outdoing each other by providing a warm welcome. There were so many of them that Mahmod couldn't recognise all of them. He thanked them and went into the house where he saw Amina and broke out sobbing. "I'm sorry for your grief, may God forgive Brahem." He looked around him slowly as if looking for something and when he saw Kadir he went up to him and embraced him. He pressed him against his chest and said with a cracked voice: "I knew nothing, my son, may God be with him!" There was a short moment of silence when everyone thought of Brahem and Amina finally said in an emotional tone of voice: ""We thank God that you are back with us, unharmed, today we will rejoice about that." People came and went the entire evening. They congratulated the family and tea and coffee cakes were served. Salumi sat silently in an armchair by himself. He looked very sad and was all off in his own little world. Omar noticed this and tried to talk to him. "Where do you come from actually? Salumi is a well-known family, are you Salumi Badri's papa?" Salumi could hardly believe his ears. "Do you know him, he's my son!" Salumi shook all over.

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"Please, tell me, is he alive?" "He's alive, very much alive, and not only that but you have so many grandchildren that it's hard to count them all." Colour slowly returned to Salumi's face that had been rigid for the whole trip to Baghdad. "Thanks be to my God," he repeated over and over again "One of my sons is alive. Give me his address, I have to leave." "Of course," said Alan, "But you have to have something to eat first!" "I don't have any appetite," Salumi cut him off, "But I need money so that I can get to my family." "Of course," said Alan while his wife handed Salumi a bag with bread, vegetables and fruit in it. Mahmod hugged his friend. "My home is your home, you must let us hear from you as soon as you get home." Very quickly Salumi was sitting in the car and Alan gave him a lift to the bus station. Before letting him go he took out his wallet and gave Salumi money for the trip. "Ten dinars is too much money," said Salumi. "Buy some presents for your grandchildren and don't forget that our home is open to you whenever you need it," countered Alan before leaving Salumi and returning home.

After eating, everyone gathered around Mahmod. They all outdid each other talking. "Were you tortured?" asked Awat. Kadir, who was sitting in the same room, turned away. Alan looked askance at his son and Awat stopped talking. Mahmod made a dismissive gesture at Alan and told them: "I have to say that it was very difficult in the beginning, the only contact we had with the outside world was via the prison guards. But then we found a way to live, some played draughts, chess or something else in the daytime. We made chessmen out of pieces of bread." He continued: "Some who had never prayed before became real Muslims and said their prayers twice. We were more than fifty in each barrack and it was a mixture of all kinds of people, everything from doctors to simple workers." Kadir got up and went out into the garden. He felt he had to be alone. He didn't want to know anything about life in prison.

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Mahmod stopped talking and made a motion to Halima to go out after Kadir. When they had gone out he went on: "One time I was close to dying myself. That was in the fourth year. I suddenly had a lot of pain in my stomach, it was unbearable. What saved me was that there were so many doctors among us. One of them, doctor Jamal, examined me and he said it was serious. He banged on the door to attract the guards and shouted that I was sick and would die if I wasn't operated on. But the guards simply came and shook their heads and laughed at me. 'Do you think that in this hell we're going to build an operating theatre?'" Mahmod looked sad when he spoke: "Doctor Jamal prayed for me: 'Show mercy, his life is in your hands.' But the guard didn't care. I was writhing in pain. The only thing I remember is that they tied me up to the bed. I lost consciousness. Later I was told that they hit me over the head. When I regained consciousness, they all stood around me and cried out: 'Mahmod has made it.' The whole barrack applauded and they told me that Jamal had operated on me with very primitive tools. And without any anaesthetic!" The kids stared in amazement and Mahmod continued: "The medic was a nice man who brought along extra bandages and disinfectant to clean the wound every time he came and visited me. I have to say that generally we were treated well by the guards, we weren't beaten or tortured and those that died died of some illness or simply of old age." "Was there anyone who managed to escape?" Mahmod laughed heartily. "Escape to where?" he said. "There was nowhere to escape to. Outside there was only sand and more sand."

The whole evening they sat up and asked Mahmod about his time in prison and a few days later Mahmod went with Halima to Suleimaniya. It wasn't long before they moved back to Halabja and to their village. When they got to their street in the village all of the villagers came out to welcome them. Mahmod was overwhelmed and broke out crying: "We're finally home, we're finally home!"

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Still another spring crept into the area around Halabja. The weather and nature changed and it was quite pleasantly warm. People seemed to be happier than they had been in a long time. Many of them had a feeling that there would soon be peace in Kurdistan. Bakr

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and Saddam had previously shown their good will when they released all political prisoners and when they showed an interest in peace negotiations. The "radar couple" as people called them were appearing on the TV screen more and more frequently. They spoke of national unity, of the road to democracy and freedom and of the united way under the leadership of national socialism.

The communists were dissatisfied with rumours about negotiations between the Peshmerga and the regime and condemned in advance all attempts to negotiate with the "Iraqi murderers." Their representatives were heard everywhere: "Don't rely on them, they were the ones who murdered thousands of democrats and communists in the military coup of 1963. Watch out for them, they are wolves in sheep's clothing. They make promises but they'll take everything when they become powerful. Kill the snake before it gets too big!" But most people did not care what the communists said, for them an end to the killing was something so great that they didn't have the presence of mind to think of what might happen in five or ten years. They picked up rumours about negotiations with the Peshmergas with joy and jubilation. The month of March was the most difficult period for the breakaway faction and within a few days their unit of armed men shrank to about a hundred men. Most of them hastened to switch sides when rumours about an agreement between the Peshmergas and the government started to circulate. A few feared for their lives and quickly fled to Baghdad.

It was sunny day in Baghdad around five in the afternoon when Assad and Kadir left the university. They were going to celebrate the news of new peace negotiations. They strolled the entire length of Rashid Street towards the Tigris where the best bars were located and they conversed with each other without interruption the whole way. "I've never felt so happy," said Kadir. "Imagine, I'm a candidate for the post of assistant chairman in the national union for Kurdistan's students. I think my position is a good one!" "We have to celebrate that with a visit to the night club Malha! But first we'll have to have a good meal! It's been a long time since we did something like this!" Assad laughed out loud. "I can't afford it," Kadir interrupted him, "And I don't want to borrow any more money from my uncle, it will be embarrassing if he suspects that I'm spending the money on liquor and gambling." "No problem," said Assad. "Your spiritual brother has money and will pay for the whole thing!"

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Kadir went along with mixed feelings. He reverted to discussing the current political situation. "There are new times coming," he said, "when Saddam and Bakr will be forced to give in to our demands. The outcome is certain once there are no more dissidents and traitors in Kurdistan. Our time will finally come, what we've been waiting so long for!" "I was only thinking of the leader of the breakaway faction," Assad said. "I wonder what he has been thinking and what he's going to do now, no one has seen him for a long time." "He shouldn't get away so easily," Kadir said, "He should pay for the crimes and misery he was responsible for during the civil war when thousands of people had to pay with their lives and property. He should be tried and convicted as a war criminal, his hands are stained with blood. But they say he's left the country and made his way to a cosy shelter in Europe." "Such is life," said Assad and poked Kadir in the back. "To hell with him, it's a good thing he's beating it, I hope he never comes back. Tell me, Kadir, do you know anything about the peace negotiations." "Yes," Kadir responded with a gleam in his eye. "I've read the entire protocol!" "Tell me about it!" "We'll get autonomy in all Kurdish cities except in oil-rich Kirkuk where we'll have joint control with the government. A new system of birth and death registration in the city will be introduced within the next four years while the cease fire is on." "What do you mean, four years?" Assad asked in surprise. "Won't we have peace for good, are you talking about restrictions?" "Yes, in four years there will be new negotiations about Kirkuk." "I don't know very much about politics," said Assad, "But I think I smell a rat. I come from Kirkuk and the government know that if they conduct a census there we Kurds are in the majority. What will Saddam do in four years?" "How can I know what's going to happen in four years when I don't even know what I ate yesterday?" Kadir said. "You're absolutely right," Assad responded. "Tonight we'll celebrate and have fun, we don't care about what happens tomorrow! I'm extremely thirsty, come, let me invite you for some freshly pressed orange juice."

Kadir felt that he was somebody. The regime recognised the rights of Kurds that his father had fought for. That they existed as a nation and that they were not inferior to others. They were Kurds and should be proud of it. Kadir's status with the students rose even more. He became deputy chairperson of the national student union and was in

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addition a member of the party's Baghdad committee. At the university he was surrounded by supporters and he felt that he was a man of significance.

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A few days later Baghdad became a completely different city. People swarmed all over its streets and markets. They danced Kurdish dances and sang joyful Kurdish songs. Arabs and Kurds danced hand in hand and celebrated peace in advance. All former sins and hostilities were forgotten. The breakaway faction that had been on the government's side was amnestied by the Peshmergas and they celebrated along with the others.

Kadir danced in the middle of fabulously pretty girls till dark fell and the last few groups were dispersed and he got a lift home. There Alan's children, Awat and Bery, came running up to him and their faces reflected their happiness and expectations. They clung to his legs and kissed his hands and he kissed them. He heard from the kids that Alan's family together with several of their neighbours were to travel to Halabja and he was so glad that he would be able to accompany them. For once he felt like a victor and he longed to see his home region again. In Halabja people celebrated, happy that they no longer needed to fear for their lives or fear that they would be forced to flee. The city bathed in an ocean of flowers. Wherever one turned, one could see people dancing and hear rhythmic Kurdish music. Hate, feelings of revenge and jealousy had vanished into thin air and warm gusty winds full of love blew from all directions. Joy radiated from the green leaves of the trees.

That same evening Amina was busy moving back to Halabja together with Little Brother and Narmin. Towards evening on Friday they arrived and Mahmod and Omar and almost the entire neighbourhood came out to see them. There was a warm welcome and Amina felt moved. With tears in her eyes, she said: "How nice it is to come home again, I've missed everyone, it's nice being away but it's best to be back home." They went in and sat down in the yard and waited for the all-clear signal from Halima and Shama who had been prisoners in the kitchen all afternoon while they prepared a dinner meal that would long be remembered. Large plastic tablecloths were laid out on the grass and filled up with various different dishes, grilled and roasted turkeys and a whole grilled lamb. The smell of melted butter and meat spread out onto the street. Everything that had been hours in preparation for Amina's arrival was cleared off

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the plates in less than fifteen minutes and the guests then leaned back under a ceiling of vine stems and sipped tea with spoonfuls of sugar.

Towards evening when the neighbours had gone home, they all sat in front of the TV set and waited impatiently to see Bakr and Saddam come on the screen. While waiting for this, protracted songs of praise for the nation were played with interruptions every now and then to say that President Bakr would soon give an important speech to the nation and read out the agreement that had put an end to nine years of war. It was exactly nine o'clock when the national anthem was played. Thereafter Bakr congratulated the people on the "indescribable victory." He then began to read paragraph after paragraph of the agreement on which cities the Kurds would have autonomy in and in which ones there would be joint government. Saddam sat silently next to Bakr with a broad smile and Bakr ended his speech: "The eleventh of March is a day that I shall never forget!" After the speech was finished an excited mood spread, interspersed with shouts and cries, people cheering and shouting and hugging each other. Outside people celebrated as they usually did by firing celebration shots into the air. "Finally peace has come after eight years!" said Halima happily. Amina sat in silence but suddenly burst out crying loudly. Halima embraced her and tried to console her: "Thank God that now there won't be any more killing!" Amina raised her tear-filled face and said in a low voice: "And whom should I thank for the war? Whom should I thank for all the misery? Whom shall I thank for Brahem's death?"

The next day Halabja was like a beautiful bride with freshly painted streets and markets. Different colours of crepe paper and cloth banners hung everywhere. Nerghis and Golalasora, the Kurdish names for spring flowers that were felt to be the queens of all flowers, filled the air with their enchanting fragrances. Thousands of Arab families came to visit. They were welcomed as guests of honour and treated with respect. Everyone shook hands with them. People that knew each other and those that didn't exchanged smiles filled with friendliness and admiration. Everyone felt like a human community. Not even language was an obstacle. People understood each other. The whole town was like a club for partying. Folk singers sang the festive Kurdish songs, with energetic drumming on the dahol, a percussion instrument, while other musicians played the zorna, a wind instrument. The noise was loud with a clear rhythm and attracted young people like spring flowers attract bees. It was like a princess's wedding day. Fatso and Hairless

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got a chance to dance among beautiful girls, something Fatso had been longing for for some time.

A few days later Alan collected his neighbours and then drove back to Halabja with Kadir. During the entire trip Kadir hardly stopped talking, he who was otherwise so taciturn and noted for terse answers or for making believe that he was too tired to talk. The Arab families had never before travelled so deep into Kurdistan and they were curious and looked happy. When they got there, Halabja was fast asleep after all the festivities. It was well past midnight and only the moon and the stars were lit up. They banged on Amina's door so hard they almost woke the entire neighbourhood up. The door was opened and everyone woke up and gave them a warm welcome. Food was quickly prepared as well as places for everyone to sleep. Arabs and Kurds dropped off into a deep sleep together in an atmosphere of trust and hope for the future.

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One month later, Komri's family moved back, the last family to return. In the afternoon, neighbourhoods tended to be very quiet and Shama prepared herself to meet Komri's family when they arrived. Time and again she went out to see if Komri had arrived or not. Shama missed her archenemy. Without Komri the neighbourhood just wasn't alive for her. Even though she hated Komri she still longed for a little resistance from someone who had her own opinion and was not like the other women who agreed with her whatever she said and would even have done so if she told them that night was day.

When loudspeakers called the faithful to say their mid-afternoon prayer, known as the asser prayer in Kurdish, Shama got ready to pray but when she heard the lorry approaching out on the street and the street's kids running after it and shouting and making noise, she lost her ability to concentrate and rushed out towards Komri's house. "So nice to see you again," said Shama, embracing Komri repeatedly. "So nice that you've come back," she said, kissing Komri's cheeks. "My dear sister, how I missed you, I thought you might never set foot in this neighbourhood again. I was so glad when I heard the news that you were on your way home!" The other women on the street gathered and all of them helped to carry Komri's belongings into the house.

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The next day the women gathered as they had always done in front of Shama's house. Shama waited for a long time for Komri but when she didn't come, Shama turned to Menig and said to her: "Go and tell Komri to come and sit with us for a little while." Shama got up and waited. Suddenly, Komri's mighty body appeared and the women stood up to give her a place to sit as she came up to them. "We're longing for you, Komri," said Shama. "It has been several years, come and sit down, my dear sister." They all sat down as soon as she had taken her place. Shama had her little one, Toana, on her knees and showed her off for Komri. "This is Toana, my fifth one, you haven't seen her, she's as fast as mercury and can't sit still even for a few seconds." Komri patted Toana on the head and said: "What a splendid name you have, Toana."

The women sat for a long time and chatted and gossiped about all that had happened. There was an excellent relaxed mood and Komri felt that she actually had longed to be back with the women. In Suleimaniya where she had lived the women were unusual and thought it was disgusting to sit in front of their doors. Komri looked around her and regained a little bit of the nasty gleam in her eyes. "Where's our friend, the Widow?" "She might show up at any moment," said Shama happily. "We're living in a time of peace and we should get rid of all the rancour we had against each other, we should turn a new blank page in our books and forget all that's passed." The women stopped talking when they saw Little Brother pass by them with his gang. "That bloke has no shame in his body!" said Shama. He looks straight at us and doesn't show any respect. I've complained to Amina more than ten times but it seems as if she can't do anything about it." "It's just the opposite with his brother Kadir!" "They say things are going well for him, not like that troublemaker. Kadir is chairman in the student union. I saw him together with Ahmad who was here visiting." "Shama," said Komri, "Tell me about the Widow!" "There's nothing to tell, she's gotten old and is sick most of the time and doesn't have much energy left, now she just stays quiet and nods her head. We have good contact with each other, I leave her alone and she leaves me alone."

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"I can't believe my ears!" "You can think what you want," Shama laughed. When the Widow heard that Komri was sitting with the women she slowly came out to them. Komri got up and went towards her, the embraced for a long while and the Widow welcomed her back in a mild voice that was barely audible. Komri felt disappointment inside her seeing her this way, quite different from the image that she had kept in her memory.

Kadir came out and noticed the women. "Not again, now," he said silently to himself and blushed heavily when he passed by the women. He almost lost control of himself and didn't know what to do when he was confronted by the staring and curious eyes. "Wasn't that Kadir," said Komri. "Yes," one of the women said, "He's among the big ones in Baghdad now." Shama cut her off: "You don't know anything about that! What's so special about him, he's only twenty years old." "It has nothing to do with age. He was seized and tortured, they've made many sacrifices in the family - Brahem, cousin Doran." Shama snorted but did not say anything in response this time.

It wasn't more than a week before the cease fire between Shama and Komri was broken and this was welcome news for the neighbourhood women, looking forward to violent scenes when their jealousy and discord would bloom once again. Shama was so upset that her eyes spit fire when she saw the mayor's car stopping in front of Komri's house. He had been invited to lunch. "I'll go crazy over those devils without any morals," said Shama. "Komri and her husband, Hook Nose, their kids and the whole lot were on the side of the breakaway faction and got rich from the killing. Now we know why they came back here, this time they're making money on smuggling." She was silent at first and then said: "This is disgraceful in every possible way, we who have lived in misery for so many years, and so many lives have been blotted out! We've hardly been able to afford to eat till we've had enough while such self-effacing bloodsuckers with no morals like Hook Nose grab up riches. They have no backbone, dogs like them that trim their sails to the wind. Whatever happens they earn money from it." "It's only Hairless's fault that he chooses such families like Komri's family!"

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From that day on, the gossip and the fighting flared up again in the neighbourhood and discord enveloped all of them. People renounced their acquaintance with each other after some misdeed as casually as people drink a glass of water.

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The kids in town were their old selves, but perhaps a bit more aggressive. Their shouting, bawling and squabbling was heard all the time. Worst of all, they were nasty and cruel to each other. They always found someone weak who quickly became a scapegoat and target for the other kids' cruelty. Some ten kids called out after Fatih: "It was your life that snuffed out your mother's!" "You mother eater!" Fatih's family had fled from their burned out village to Halabja. His mother was pregnant with Fatih and on the way to Halabja he was born. The mother bled profusely from the delivery that got much too complicated and there were no doctors or any kind of medical assistance. She died before she got to Halabja. It was Fatih's aunt, Narin, who took care of him after his mother's death. She brought him up as if he had been her own son. It was, nonetheless, a miracle that Fatih survived and if Shama and the other women neighbours had not nursed him together with their own children he would not have made it.

Fatih was now a healthy eight-year-old with a sympathetic appearance with his light curly hair and his big green eyes that glowed like crystals in his round face. Father Waly tried to get the other kids to behave but to no avail for as soon as he was gone they bullied Fatih again, just like they had done before. Finally Waly felt there was no alternative but to take his son away from the street. He talked with Otman, the tailor, and saw to it that Fatih got to be an apprentice with him so that he could learn to sew clothes and at the same time help support the family. At first, Fatih refused to go to Otman but he changed his mind when he got two pairs of white doves. Fatih was very fond of birds and they got to be his opportunity to enjoy life. Before he went to sleep at night he lay in his bed under the roof and in the moonlight he could see the storks that made their home on the power plant, the only roof that sloped in the whole neighbourhood. Fatih enjoyed watching the young birds growing up by the day until they were big enough to fly. He wished that he could grow his own wings so that he could fly where he wanted to. It was always depressing, the day when the young birds were ready to fly and then they left.

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Fatih got his way when Waly built a cage with two little rooms in it, one for every pair of doves. The cage had a shelter against the rain and hung high up on the wall so that the doves were protected from any hungry cats.

One day as the hour was approaching five in the afternoon, Fatih was on his way home from the tailor's when Ahmad picked up his new trousers from Otman. When he saw Fatih and detected the slight but for Ahmad so well-known sign of a black-and-blue mark that was several days old he thought of himself and the many times when he had been in the same situation. Ahmad gave Fatih a dinar as baksheesh and the boy was glad and ran home. This was more than he otherwise got for a weekly allowance. Before he disappeared he thanked Ahmad and kissed his hand. Ahmad went to the tailor doggedly. He was taciturn but one could see how angry and upset he was. "I saw a black-and-blue mark on Fatih's arm!" He needed all his self-control not to raise his voice with the old tailor who quickly responded: "God knows that I'm innocent, I've stopped doing that and I like him as if he were my own son, believe me, it wasn't me, you can ask him or anyone else!" Otman held out his arms. "Whatever the case with that," Ahmad cut him off, "I just want to ask you for one thing! For God's sake, don't beat the boy. If I hear that you've done that I'll be furious with you!" "I swear on the Koran that I wasn't the one and I promise you on my honour that I will never spank him."

Fatih went up to the doves that were his darlings. He fed them first before he threw them up in the air, one after one, They flew high and turned summersaults before landing on his shoulder. Fatih was happy and his eyes lit up. He was so preoccupied with the doves that he forgot the time. He only came down from the attic when he heard aunt Narin calling: "Dinner is ready, come down and eat some time, Fatih!"

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By now a year had passed since the Peshmergas and the regime had signed their peace treaty and people in Halabja had begun to grow accustomed to living in peace. They were happy that they no longer had to live all the time under stress and uncertainty and to fear for their lives. Despite that, they learned to be cautious and were careful to watch what they said when they spoke. The town looked the same, ruins were left untouched where they had been and civilians who had lost relatives or property were not given any compensation. Some of them were forced to seek work in Baghdad or other large cities. For the Peshmergas and their supporters life was different, they had the opportunity of having things improve and they were also the ones who took the new jobs in the various different organs of public administration. The difference between the old rulers and the new ones was not that great except for the fact that they were Kurds and could speak Kurdish. They felt it was quite natural that they should be allowed to reap the rewards of their struggle, of their sweat and hunger and all the tribulations they had gone through. It was unthinkable that the public would have any objections to this. A climate prevailed where people in general never objected to things, it was unthinkable even to criticise anything. Tolerance for deviant opinions was just as limited as it had been before. Any dissatisfaction or complaints that could be heard from time to time, nonetheless, were quickly suppressed, normally with nasty comments or taunts. "Where were you people, you bastards? Now you have tongues and can do the talking! Where were you when we risked our lives for your sake? You were sleeping safely between your wives' legs." "What we now get is something we've paid for with our blood. Should everyone be treated equally after such a war? A Peshmerga that risked everything including his life and someone that never made any sacrifices for his people or his country?

Hairless has set his sights high and was aiming at becoming the mayor of Suleimaniya but instead became the mayor of Halabja and Fatso became his right-hand man in the security forces. Hairless was dissatisfied about his appointment and felt he had been ill treated by the leadership for not giving him anything better than a position in a small town with nothing more than thirty thousand inhabitants. But he calmed down when the leadership promised him he would get what he wanted at the next elections in four years. Hairless's political commitment was mainly expressed in his hatred for and attacks on intellectuals, socialists and communists. He followed his own line whatever others thought. Inside it all, he was a lone wolf and the rules and laws that guided him were written in his head, in his moods and in what he thought or felt for the moment.

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When he appeared in public in town or when he took a walk through his neighbourhood he always had armed men with him who went on in front of him. Most people in town, businessmen, common storeowners and restaurant owners stood up and showed respect and deference by greeting him cordially. He often responded with a little nod. He was always being invited to big dinners with well-to-do townspeople and when he went to the city's club people queued up to pay for him. Presents and other valuable objects came to his house in an unending stream. In one single year he earned so much that he bought three properties in Suleimaniya and became part-owner of a hotel in Baghdad.

But Hairless was never satisfied with anything, whether it be women, good food and drink or gambling. There is a Kurdish saying to the effect that when a man has money and influence he either marries another woman or he buys a pistol. Hairless had more than enough weapons and instead he acquired a new wife, a young girl who was twenty years younger than he was. Besides her, he still had his first wife in addition to his mistresses spread out throughout the country. Hairless didn't actually care that much about money and he was very generous during his nightly visits to clubs in Baghdad. He was never one to be cheap and both he and Fatso had a lot of fun for the money. Fatso always praised him: "I know you well, you never have enough women!" And Hairless would comb his large moustache with his rough fingers and answer with a smile: "Not this again, Fatso!"

Ahmad and his bodyguards were on their way to Halabja since he had a week's leave. It was around two in the afternoon when the car drove into the neighbourhood. The women's eyes popped out of their heads when they saw the strapping Peshmerga soldiers. Kids came running as fast as they could behind the car: "Ahmad's back!" When Karim Bey and Fata saw Ahmad come in the door they cried out for joy and embraced each other for a long time. Fata had tears in her eyes from joy. "How is our youngest colonel?" she asked, her voice full of pride. "Where are your men?" "They are on leave like I am, they're going to visit their families." Fata took the chance when she got it and a long discussion ensued between her and Ahmad. Fata said repeatedly that he had become more and more invisible and that he never attempted to benefit from his position while all the other Peshmergas were doing so. Like all the other times, they sat in the kitchen and drank tea and it was not long

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before a violent argument broke out between them. Karim Bey became irritated and went into the living room.

"Everyone else in the Peshmerga has an important civilian job but my son, he isn't even interested in something like that. I only have one son but he doesn't even know what's good for him!" "Stop it or I'll leave," said Ahmad, dismayed. "You're deaf and never want to hear the truth, you don't care about us or about money or riches. you want to be invisible and for the last year you've only visited me three times. All you think about is your men and your damned division near the border!" Fata was now so upset that her voice cracked. Karim Bey came out to the kitchen and tried to calm things down. "Let him be," he said, "We are all different. God has created us this way, your son is not like those you're comparing him to. He fights for his honour, he's loyal and reliable and he just wants to be Ahmad and no one else. He's not hairless, you should know that!" Fata who had now calmed down interrupted him and repeated the same thing over again. Karim Bey didn't have the patience to argue with her anymore and left. "Unthankful boy, this is how you reward your own mother!" She threw her arms out, gesticulating dramatically. "Think of all the misery I've put myself through, I brought you up and sacrificed my life for you! You never listen to anyone and it's your fault, now you have to do something about it!" Ahmad calmly remained seated where he was. He looked her straight in the eye. "Do you want me to start stealing too? Is that what you want?" He raised his voice. "What is so unusual about me, why should I put myself on display like merchandise in a store window? What do I have to show off - my blood-stained hands? My hands that have killed both guilty and innocent people. What kind of a life do you think I have, the only thing your son has is that damned weapon and nothing else." "Don't feel sorrow for yourself," Fata shot back. "This is your fault. Didn't you yourself decide to become a Peshmerga?" "That wasn't the way it was," Ahmad interrupted her. "It was the fault of my teacher, Hussain. He beat me black-and-blue and humiliated me every day." He went silent and turned his head away so she wouldn't see the tears that were welling up in his eyes. "I had no life then, and I don't have one now either!"

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"Stop, for God's sake, you have done your fighting," said Fata who now spoke in a milder tone of voice. "This is what you fought for, I only meant that you should be there to reap the rewards too! You are the youngest colonel in the history of the Peshmergas, respected by the great leader but you want to hide underground while people see how Hairless collects so much riches that he can buy half the town." Fata put her hand on his shoulder. "Hairless came to visit us with his young wife and that's when I thought of you, of my own son, and I said to myself that now Ahmad has to get smart, how much longer do I have to wait for my grandchildren? Now you have the chance to marry anyone you want, no one would want to or dare to reject you as a suitor." Ahmad couldn't believe his ears. "Should I have children, to be born into this world? Should my children go through the same hell I went through? No, little mama," he said in a loud and determined voice, "If that's what you're waiting for, you'll have to wait for a long time!" Just at that moment there was a knock on the door and the argument ended abruptly. It was Omar who came in accompanied by practically the entire neighbourhood. Everyone shook hands with Ahmad and welcomed him. They sat down and Fata made some more tea and served them.

A few days later something happened that nobody had expected or even dreamed could happen. Kurdish ministers and everyone who had been on the Peshmergas' side were suddenly on their way to Kurdistan. The message they brought along reached everyone: "A new war can break out at any moment! The Peshmergas and their supporters should prepare to flee to the mountains. At any moment a new war will break out!"

Kadir drove straight to Halabja. Amina was frightened by the news and her heart pounded hard when she saw him come in through the door. Little Brother came running to meet him and the two brothers embraced. "Do you know what has happened?" said Kadir excitedly. "The bastards tried to kill Barzani. Now we'll show them, they'll get what they deserve!"

It didn't take long before Ahmad, Omar and many other Peshmerga supporters were sitting together in Amina's living room. "Haven't you heard what happened," Omar said, "It must be Saddam who is behind this attempt!" "It was in the afternoon when Barzani was supposed to meet a group of religious Arabs who had taken gifts along. Their helicopter landed as usual in the middle of the

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Peshmergas' headquarters but on their way to meet Barzani something must have gone wrong, a large explosion was heard. The presents contained several bombs timed to go off and the religious people were blown up. Thank God! Barzani was protected by his guardian angel, the bombs went off a few seconds too early and he managed to escape." Amina turned pale when she concentrated on listening without saying anything. "The poor religious blokes," said Kadir. "They were deceived and had no idea that they had explosives with them." "Maybe another war will start off," said Amina with a sigh. "Mahmod was right, you can't trust Saddam. As soon as he becomes powerful he'll go back on his promises." She raised her arms to the heavens. "May God take you, Saddam!" Ahmad looked at his watch. "I have to hurry, I have a meeting!" At that moment Ahmad's bodyguards arrived: "Come Colonel Ahmad, Hairless is waiting for you!"

That very evening the assassination attempt was mentioned on TV and by all Iraqi radio stations and the event was decried and there were accusations about sinister foreign forces being behind it. Saddam thanked God that Barzani had escaped unscathed and said that Iraqs enemies did not want to see Kurds and Arabs living together in peace in a united Iraq. He congratulated Barzani for his narrow escape and expressed his condolences for all those innocently killed in the attempted assassination. A week later the crisis was over and both sides once again reached agreement and joyous Kurdish songs were once again heard in the streets and markets. The peace was allowed to continue and life returned to normal.

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Spring of 1974

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Four years had passed and spring was early in coming. The weather changed and people looked forward to a fine spring with peace persisting in the region. The city of Halabja lay on the broad plain that stretched as far as the eye could see, sheltered by high and mighty mountains all around it. The earth was so yellow-coloured and heavy with clay that rainwater had difficulty penetrating it. The townspeople enjoyed the peace and all the previous misery and strife they had gone through during the years the war went on were now almost forgotten. They lived in peace and tranquillity and no longer had to fear for their lives. Those who had been on the side of the Peshmergas had more benefits than the others, all the important jobs had been taken by them and the way to get them lay directly through the route of loyalty and kinship. Mayor Hairless, the most powerful man in town, lived like a king and could get whatever he wanted. During those four years he had amassed so much wealth that all of his family could live out the rest of their lives on it. Personally it was not easy dealing with him and he could easily tell who was really loyal to him and who wasn't. He inspired fear in those around him. People were not eager to get involved in conflicts with him and avoided his sharp and venomous tongue. His language was dirty and his shouting and screaming intimidated his opponents, both inside and outside the party. From his years as a Peshmerga he was known to be a vengeful person. He was easily irritated and could not forgive those that had hurt him. His word was law, to be followed to the letter by everyone else. Many people were afraid of him and feigned submission and respect. Actually, he was not liked in these parts, not even among Peshmerga supporters. Many were jealous and discontented voices were heard behind his back but in his presence no one dared to open their mouth and say what they felt.

These particularly spring-like days Hairless was waiting for the results of the new peace negotiations after which the leadership had promised him a better job. In view of his experience and loyalty he could be needed in other large cities, much larger ones than a provincial backwater like Halabja. Hairless's only real worry was that be was getting on in years. His crooked eagle's nose covered half of his sinister face, in addition to which he was short and what little hair he had left on his head was grey. He tried to conceal this by dyeing his hair but his new pitch-black hair did not suit his ageing face and looked somewhat ridiculous. No one dared say anything but behind his back he was being laughed at.

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In order to prove his manliness, his visits both to Baghdad's nightclubs as well as in the red-light district became all the more frequent. Moreover, he now married a third wife who was the youngest and prettiest of all his wives.

Fatso was Hairless's right-hand man. He was as hard as stone and went after anyone who opened his mouth without being asked to do so or who slandered him. He wrote one report after another, registered all those whose opinions diverged from those of the Peshmergas or who expressed themselves a little differently. He warned the socialists and called them spies and traitors. Among others, he warned Mahmod not to go looking for trouble and told him to keep his tongue in check lest he have to deal with Fatso. "You can thank God that youre a relative of the martyrs Doran and Brahem!"

Kadir had been changed by this period of peace, he had become a different person and had a broader view of life. He had done well and was no longer the reticent lad who wanted to be by himself and stay out of sight. He gradually attained higher positions and became the chairman of the national students' union, he gave speeches in various places and was the Peshmergas' most active student in Baghdad. He was always surrounded by other students and became popular among them and with party members. He was often invited to parties and could be seen in bars and nightclubs. Kadir had grown accustomed to life in Baghdad and his only concern was that he now only had one semester left in his law studies. Alan tried to persuade him to stay on in Baghdad and open up a law office, something that Kadir had not yet agreed to. He was waiting for other and better offers from the Peshmergas. Many people were sure that Kadir would one day have a promising future with the Peshmergas.

Colonel Ahmad had grown into a tall, well-built man of twenty-five. He was often taciturn and avoided getting involved in other people's business and conflicts. He isolated himself and kept close to the border between Iran and Iraq except when visiting his mother Fata and Karim Bey during the religious holidays or when he had some business to attend to in Halabja. Karim Bey tried in vain to persuade him to marry. Ahmad rejected all girls that Fata chose for him, something that made her indignant and arguments between them were a constant everyday occurrence. "Some fine day you'll break your mama's heart, you ungrateful boy!" Ahmad got just as angry and shouted back: "I'll never marry and have children!"

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After many years of waiting, Shirin and Raza decided to hold their wedding in the spring. They counted the days and nights until they would be man and wife. Raza had been a senior-level teacher for two years now in a boys' school and Shirin had left school and had now been a teacher for several months, but at a girls' school. The couple was still waiting to have their first kiss and hug, not having been alone with each other for a second as yet. When Raza visited Shirin someone had been present all the time.

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After the evening meal agitated voices could be heard at home with Mahmod and, as usual, the argument was in full swing this evening. Halima was irritated when Mahmod touched her hand after she had prepared for her evening prayers. She snapped at him: "You'll never learn," she said, "You keep doing it and deliberately so! Why do you touch me when Im washing to prepare myself for prayers?" She poked him across the arm. "You with your mean hand have ruined everything for me, now I have to repeat the entire ritual once more! My God, what shall I do, to whom shall I turn?" "That was just an accident," said Mahmod, "Why do you get so cross? I'm your husband, do you think God minds that I just happen to touch your hand? My hands are clean, what do you think, my dear wife?" She quickly interrupted him: "I don't want to hear any heathen comments in my house!"

Halima went out to the bathroom and went through her preparations again and finally she was able to go through her prayers. After praying she went to the kitchen and asked if they wanted to have tea and then sat down with Mahmod and Raza. As in every other home, the talk was all about what the new negotiations would entail and about all the rumours that were being spread, one after another. "Now it'll get serious," said Mahmod. "Now they'll put restrictions on autonomy and they'll have considerable conflicts about it, neither side will give in for the other one and war can become a fact at any moment." "Enough of your pessimism," Halima cut him off, "and don't keep preaching the worst possible case!" "You can predict a full moon even early in the evening. Are you deaf. Halima? Didn't you hear what was said on the news? Now they'll escalate the conflict and in the last few months the number of Kurds has been cut in half in Kirkuk, having been driven from their homes and forced to sell their property and leave the city in order to make way

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for Arab families being moved in from the south. In addition, the government has built hundreds of high-rise blocks just for Arab families and on very favourable buyers terms. Do you think the Peshmergas can stay silent about something like that? Now the propaganda war between them will start and in every daily newspaper they'll be attacking each other. The Peshmergas will be called "traitors" and "the archenemy" or "Iran's right hand." And the Peshmergas in turn will call the government murderers and "the fascists in Baghdad." "I have a feeling," Halima said to her husband, "that there won't be any war, whatever happens. I don't think they're so stupid that they'll risk human lives. They just want to show their muscles off for each other. You'll see, at the last minute they'll reach an agreement!"

For Halima the word "war" was associated with so much anxiety that she wanted to change the subject to anything else she could, she was so tired of these incessant debates and said: "We can't do anything, we can only wait and see. I forgot to tell you about Nadia, Omar's wife - she's had her third little girl. We have to visit them and buy a present. God only knows how much I like Omar and Nadia, as if they were my own children." "What will the girl's name be?" "Tara! Omar wanted a boy but you can't place an order in advance, everything happens according to God's will." "We can visit them tomorrow." "Let's do that," said Mahmod and held out his hand to her. Halima shouted out loud: "Stop it, not again now! Take your hands away! I'll pray my last prayer for the day." Mahmod sighed.

Raza sat in his own little world and looked preoccupied. His thoughts revolved, as usual, around Shirin and every bit of bad news unsettled him and disturbed the balance inside him. He got more and more depressed when he read newspapers or listened to the news. Raza was worried and complained that luck was not on his side now that they had decided on a wedding that might just not come off if a war came. "Where are you, my son?" said Halima, "Would you like some more tea?" Raza shook his head without saying anything.

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The next day at dawn, before the sun had come up, shouts and cries were heard from Fatima's house. For many in the neighbourhood it was a normal day but for Fatima it was hell breaking out. Cries after the blows were heard throughout the neighbourhood so much so that Shama could not stay at home. She ran straight into the house and got between the man and wife and pushed Ibrahem aside. "Leave her alone, do you want to kill her?" But Ibrahem got extra wind without even answering her and started beating even harder. He was too preoccupied with his uncontrolled anger to be able to see or hear anything. Fatima lay on the floor and blood ran out of her nose and from her mouth, she lay there lifeless, unable to put up any more resistance. The children stood beside her, paralysed, and looked on without making a sound. Shama once again got between Ibrahem and Fatima and absorbed some of the blows herself. "Don't meddle in our squabbles, Shama!" Ibrahem shouted so loud that saliva sprayed out of his mouth. "This is my home and not yours, leave us alone and beat it!" "Do you call this squabbling? You wretched wife beater! I'll see to it that you lose face in front of the entire neighbourhood. You almost killed her, you heathen! Where has your honour gone, have you lost your Kurdish morals, you worthless bastard, how can you beat a weak little woman?" Shama turned to Fatima. "Come home with me, Fatima." Fatima got up with considerable difficulty and leaned on Shama, but Ibrahem got between them again. Shama pushed him aside. The children were now crying in desperation and came up to Fatima but nobody had time to bother with them. Ibrahem went crazy when he failed to rush past Shama and now senselessly knocked down everything that got in his way out of the house. He cursed Shama and the neighbourhood women and shouted that they were the cause of all the misery in his home.

Shama put her arm under Fatima as a support and the neighbourhood women rushed up to provide assistance. They went quickly towards Shama's house. He got cotton cloth and wiped the blood away and gave Fatima the care she needed. "My kids," said Fatima, "Where are my kids?" Just at that moment her frightened children came running up to Fatima and she hugged them tightly. Shama looked at her in silence, her eyes filled with tears. "Fatima, Fatima! Can you hear me? Listen for God's sake! Leave that devil. He's already killed you, you get nothing but a beating every day!"

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"I know," said Fatima in a sad tone of voice, "but I can't." She lowered her gaze. "What will I do with my children? For their sake I have to put up with it, I have no choice." She got up with difficulty and it was clear that she was suffering from pain. "Thank you, Shama, now I have to go home with my kids." "Are you going back already?" Shama was astonished. "You can stay here. Or go home to your family!" But Fatima insisted that she had to go home and after awhile Shama and the other women accompanied her there.

In the neighbourhood the boys gathered and after a short while a fight broke out between them and the kids' swearing and obscenities could be heard uninterruptedly. "It was your fault, feather-brained!" "It was your fault, you ass! You bugger! "Your mother's" "Your papa has no moustache!" Little Toana was the smallest and he was pushed by one of the older boys. Shama went mad when she saw her son fall over and start to cry. She ran out and got a hold of the older boy who got a taste of her hefty slapping, leaving red marks on his face. The boy whined out loud: "I swear to God that I wasn't the one.!" "Don't lie, you devil, I saw you with my own eyes. Leave my son alone, you damned bastard!" Shama then went up to Toana and hugged him gently while examining him closely. They went back, hand in hand, to the house. The neighbourhood women shouted out: "Well done, Shama, they deserved it!"

As always, the women were sitting in front of Shama's house and the Widow was on her way towards them. She had gotten older and wiser but as usual suffered from all possible kinds of diseases. Her position among the women had sunk and she now contented herself with sitting with the other women and listening to their gossip and hearing about the heated disputes between Shama and Komri. The Widow had become a different person, she was always friendly and took note of other people and asked how they were doing. The Widow had retired as far as the art of gossip was concerned.

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Shama too had gotten older and was now approaching middle age. She had many different sides to her and if it suited her she could be a very sensible, quiet and friendly woman. She was very much respected by the others and in a position to think and feel as she wanted. "Even her husband has a lot of respect for her!," the other women used to say. She had now learned how to avoid getting involved in conflicts with Komri. The two women had some sort of a cease-fire between them but behind their backs they continued to slander each other. Shama had thus far had six children. The young women were jealous of her. She would easily let off her anger at them and would then shout and criticise them ironically to put them in their places. It was easy for her to ride roughshod over anyone who didn't feel the way she did.

After the events of the day before with Fatima, the whole neighbourhood talked of Shama's actions. She was commended and Ibrahem was condemned for having done what he did to his wife. In that way, Shama's position among the women was even stronger while Komri cursed Shama to herself. Shama had a colourful shawl over her head that hid her black hair and she now sat like a queen among the women. She turned to them and drew an affected sigh, as she occasionally did. "Do your know," said Shama, "I feel so sorry for Fatima for her miserable life with that mad dog of a husband. She didn't listen but I several times told her to run way to her family and leave the kids with him. But she just said no. I told her she could stay with me for awhile but she refused. The poor thing didn't stay more than an hour with me before she went back to that bastard." Shama flung her arms out with tears in her eyes. "The poor thing! Her whole body was covered with black-and-blue marks." "What a bloke she has," said one of the younger women, "A real bastard! The only thing he can do right is mount her as he likes and beat her and the kids while that poor thing works for him like a slave, washing clothes by hand, cooking meals, taking care of the kids and going to bed with that idiot. Don't you know that Fatima is pregnant again?" "No," the women answered. Fatima doesn't say anything." "Oh, great God of heaven and earth, I don't understand how she can put up with so much beating! How can she put up with such a dog? I swear to my God that if there

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was only one man left in all humanity and that bastard was the man then I wouldn't want to screw with him." "They say that Fatima's man is very well liked at work and among his comrades." Shama interrupted Assim with a contemptuous smile: "But when he comes in through the door all hell breaks loose. I've run over to them a thousand times and saved Fatima from his violence." Shama spat on the ground. "He's a devil, believe me, my dear sisters. We intended to move to another neighbourhood. It was difficult living door to door and hearing what that man does. The kids cry out for help and Fatima's crying can be heard around the clock. We women don't know what we're born for!"

Little Toana went out with a piece of thick bread in his hands to play with the other kids. Once again he was pushed aside by the others who shouted at him: "Beat it, you little fart, don't spoil our game!" Shama shouted at them: "Toana must be allowed in too! Otherwise I'll tear your ears off, damned bastards! He's allowed to take part in the game, period!" She shook her fist at the kids who hastened to let Toana into their game. Shama turned to the women. "What was I saying?" "You were talking about Fatima's husband!" "Yes, right that bastard! We can't do anything about it! No one can change him. But like the proverb says: 'God is not a carpenter, but he's an organiser.' Who knows it might just be that Fatima and her worthless husband make a good match? Why otherwise doesn't she leave him? She should teach him a lesson and show him that she means business. There are plenty of good men." Shama was tired of this discussion and wanted to change the subject and so she finished: "Nowadays we have enough of our own problems. I can't put up with these ungrateful people any longer. I can't help them any more. Why doesn't she leave him? What kind of good features can he have, that idiot? I told her that if she stayed with me I would protect her but she went back to him! I don't understand what she sees in him!"

At home, Fatima lay knocked out on the sofa. She hurt all over in body and soul and her children gathered around her. Her oldest daughter tried to console her and hugged her and got water and food to give her something to eat but Fatima couldn't get anything down.

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In the middle of the day Ibrahem came home to eat lunch. He went out to the kitchen and expected to be served as usual. His face was so hard and black with rage that, when the kids saw him, they thought he was going to beat Fatima again. He shouted out loud as he went into the living room: "Fatima! I'm hungry, haven't you made something to eat, you damned lazy bones, you ungrateful bastard, are you looking for more of it?" He sat down in the largest armchair. "Get some water!" he shouted. The oldest daughter got up to run out to the kitchen but he stopped her by force. "Not you, Fatima! You're asking for it!" He got up and went up to Fatima on the sofa. He hit her uncontrollably over the mouth and pulled her hair. "Hurry up, you bastard! Serve some food, I'm hungry!" He pulled her hair up and she got up with difficulty and went out to the kitchen without a word crossing her lips. She came back quickly with a glass of water and food that she had prepared early that morning. She put the plate on the table and Ibrahem smiled. "That's the way it's supposed to be!" He leaned over to the youngest child who huddled against the window frame in fright while Ibrahem called to him: "Come, my son!" The boy dared not do anything but obey and Ibrahem patted him on the cheek He didn't notice that the boy went in his trousers out of fright. Ibrahem bolted down his meal. When he was finished he pushed the plate away and leaned back in the armchair. "Get some tea, you damned whore!" He quickly drank up his tea and left again. Before closing the door behind him he hurled a few obscene words at Fatima and pressed a coin in the little boy's hand.

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Kadir spent the whole afternoon taking part in the conference at the Kurdish meeting hall in the university. The conference dealt with the latest negotiations between the regime and the Peshmergas, with obstacles to an agreement and with the negotiating points that had been jointly agreed. In the course of the talks, it had been decided that the Peshmergas would be evacuated from Baghdad and would wait for the outcome of the

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negotiations in the Kurdish areas. For that reason it was also decided to destroy all documents and records before leaving for the north. The biggest question was whether the two parties would reach agreement or not and no one knew exactly how that matter would turn out but for safety's sake everyone was supposed to be at his appointed place if war should break out. In such circumstances, it would be much too difficult to get to the Kurdish region on short notice.

After the conference everyone went his way except for Kadir who remained in the room and tried to analyse the deadlocked situation. Inside him, he felt an impulse to flee from it all. With a cigarette in his hand he sat there, deeply immersed in his thoughts. Every now and then he shook his head or swore to himself. "Now I have to leave Baghdad and join up. For four years I had forgotten all the shit I had been through and started to get used to living again but if war breaks out then my life will be beyond my control again." He sighed. "Tomorrow I'm going home and leaving life behind me, once again."

Towards evening he went out to the bus stop when a particularly gusty and unexpected spring rainstorm started and the entire university campus was set in motion. Students sought shelter and ran in all different directions. Kadir, who has lightly clothed, was soon drenched. He didn't even try to seek shelter and after waiting for a half-hour the bus arrived and he could get home. When he came in the door, he was met by Alan. "Get some dry clothes, Merem! Otherwise he'll catch cold!" Kadir quickly changed to dry clothes and lay down in bed and immediately dropped off to sleep. Merem went into his room and put an extra blanket on him. A few hours later he woke up and looked at the clock with blood-shot eyes. He got up and looked all over for cigarettes. He picked up a book and saw the pack of cigarettes. "There you are, you bastards!" With a cigarette in his hand he sat down on the bed and tried to read a book but his thoughts wandered off on him and he closed the book again. "What does it matter if I'm educated or not? In this country they only need strong and courageous men who never hesitate when the time comes. What is the purpose of being educated? If you get killed, what difference does it make what books you've read?"

Kadir was depressed. For once he was living a real life and enjoying it. He wanted everything to go on the same way but the events that determined his existence were beyond his control and he was aware that this time he would have to go through a war as

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an adult. He understood that he would have to leave Baghdad for good and maybe never even set his foot in it again. He mourned for his studies and all the enjoyable times he had experienced in Baghdad. He also understood that he would be risking his life. He lit another cigarette and mumbled in a plaintive tone: "I can't take it any longer! If I stay here in Baghdad and study as if nothing had happened, either I'll be executed or I'll have to collaborate with the regime. If I do that, then how can I go and face my own people, death would be better than the consequences of that. And I could I collaborate with a regime that tortured my father to death? I have no choice at all. My life no longer belongs to me. I have to say things and do things just as the Peshmergas want and take part in a hell that no longer has any meaning for me. It no longer makes any difference what I myself believe in." Kadir was disappointed with himself and his plaintive voice grew louder inside of him. "Why was I born in this damned country, a country that only has violence as its language? What should I do, where should I turn? Should I thank my parents that I exist? Whatever I do it will be wrong and there is no one to turn to! However I slice it I still have to go home." He got up and went to the mirror and spoke to himself out loud: "Be a man and not a coward! Go home and take up arms! It's the same shit. Should I cry torrents over what I did or didn't do in life? Be a man and don't whine like an old woman!" He realised that he had no possibility whatsoever to back out and he felt trapped. He went over to the window and looked out and saw a pretty girl passing by and his heart pounded. "Tonight is my last night here! Early tomorrow I'm heading for home and tomorrow night I'll be in Halabja." He felt both relieved and depressed about his decision.

Merem got dinner ready and Awat came into the kitchen and swiped a Kurdish meatball that he quickly shoved in his mouth. It was still hot from cooking and he gulped and moaned from the pain. "You'll never learn to wait," said Merem, annoyed. "How often have I told you to wait until I set the table for supper. Do you see what happens, sin punishes itself!" Awat ran up the stairs to Kadir's room and whined so loud that he awakened Kadir from his brooding. He rushed out of the room and hugged Awat. "What happened, my little friend?"

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Kadir consoled Awat and got a glass of cold water. Just as they were headed downstairs together there was a knock on the door and Awat forgot his pains and quickly ran to the door. "It's uncle Assad!" he said jubilantly when he got a piece of chocolate from the newly arrived guest. Everyone in the house came into the hall and welcomed Assad. Assad greeted them in turn but it was noticeable that he had something on his mind. He was not quite like himself. "You've come at the right time," Merem said to him. "Come in a sit down to eat with us, we'll be having supper soon. Everyone gathered around the dining table and started eating. Suddenly Awat cried out. "Bery took my meatballs!" "Don't worry," said Merem, "There's plenty left." She put a few more on Awat's plate but he continued whining. "I only want my own meatballs!" "Eat up now," said Merem as she turned to Bery. "Leave him alone, I've said this a hundred times!"

"It's almost ten o'clock," said Alan and left the dinner table, turning on the radio and waiting excitedly to hear the news. After a short while he switched the radio off again and said in a disappointed tone of voice: "Not a single damned country in this world cares or is interested in our continuing to have peace here. They are all in agreement in saying 'We won't interfere, this is a matter for the Iraqis.' It's as if human life were not involved as long as it's a question of us. Where has the world's conscience gone? Who is selling us these damn weapons? We don't manufacture them ourselves!" "There hasn't been any opening in the negotiations," said Kadir, who sat down with him. There is certainly going to be a war, we have all been urged to report to the liberated areas in Kurdistan. I was at the last meeting today and the Peshmergas' headquarters in Baghdad is being closed. For safety's sake we are leaving Baghdad and proceeding to Kurdistan." "What do you mean,?" said Alan inquisitively, "Will you be going home?" "Tomorrow I'm going home to Halabja!" "Aren't you going to stay and pass your exams?" Kadir sighed dejectedly.

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"I am not even being asked, I'm much too involved. I have already dug my own grave and burned my bridges. I have no future here in Baghdad!" "You can lose your life," Merem burst out as she came into the room. "Are you going to become a Peshmerga?" "I have no alternative," said Kadir. " I can't turn my back on my ideals and convictions. I am a prisoner of them, I can only blame myself for getting into this, but now it's too late to extricate myself again!"

Assad sat silently and listened, excited and sombre. He didn't want to lose his friend. "What's wrong with you?" Kadir said, "You look so horrified!" "Don't ask," he said dejectedly, "I worry about my family in Kirkuk." "What's wrong with them?" Merem asked. "Papa is over seventy! He has been bedridden for several years and has lived all his life in that damned town. He has said that he doesn't intend to move anywhere else. Then they went out after him and he was assailed by some dogs that were sent out after him to smash paintings and everything they got a hold of before they left. Before leaving they laughed at my mother and said they would be back, that this time they had just been show-casing and next time they meant business." "I can't believe my ears," Merem said, "Is this true? Now things have gone too far. To go after an old man like that!" They sat down at the table to drink tea. "Soon it'll be the anniversary of the peace treaties," said Alan. "And now there'll be a war treaty instead, Merem said in irony. "We lost Brahem and Doran, how many more are we to lose now? Are we to lose you too, Kadir?" She burst out crying. "Relax, aunt Merem, stop crying! Who has said that there's going to be a war?" "There will be one," said Merem, "I have a feeling about it. We have been born with a stamp of ill fortune on our foreheads. You have been like our own son, many people in the neighbourhood think you're an older brother in the family and now you are just going to disappear, that isn't right!" Assad fingered his big black moustache and went on: "What have we done to get into this inferno? They are forcing us to give up our properties, our businesses, everything. We get some minor compensation but what are we to do with it?" "The struggle will be long before we can live in peace," said Kadir, "We have to be patient!"

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"To hell with all war and killing!" Merem burst out. "The struggle isn't worth a single human life! How many times haven't we rebelled and been beaten. The same mistake, time and again! And each time so many people lose their life! Who remembers them and for what good did they die?" They continued the debate until late into the night. Kadir went to bed but couldn't get any sleep.

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It was early in the morning and the sky was covered with thick black clouds. Kadir was still lying in bed when the kids' noise woke him up. He lit a cigarette and quickly packed his bag. For a moment he stood and stared about him as if he was wondering what he should take with him. Out on the street the silence began to give way. Human voices could be heard, laughing and calling out, cars and busses. Baghdad was waking up. With sadness in his eyes he slowly walked down the stairs. He was both sad and embittered about this farewell that he had not wished for at all. Merem wept out loud and woke up everyone else in the house. The kids came running and clung to Kadir's legs, asking for more presents since they thought this would just be a routine trip back home. "You have to have breakfast before you go," said Merem. Kadir ate quickly and got up from the table. "That'll do it, aunt Merem!" he said and embraced her. He kissed her hands. "You have always been like a second mother to me, God be with you!" Bery and Awat were now unnerved by the seriousness of the conversation.

Sad, Assad sat in the car next to Kadir and Alan drove to the station. Merem threw a pail of water after the car. In the car itself, everyone sat in silence. When they got out at the station, Assad could no longer hold back his tears that now began to wet his unwashed cheeks. He embraced Kadir. Alan stood there, looking preoccupied, unwilling to grasp the situation. Kadir was moved and on the verge of crying but contained himself and went up to Alan. "Now our ways part!" Alan embraced him and kissed his hands. "Take care of yourself!"

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Alan and Assad waited until Kadir had made contact with several drivers they knew from his home town who were going to drive to Halabja. Kadir paid for the trip and Kadir got in the car that started off. Alan ran up to the car and shouted: "Stop, stop!" The car stopped and he took an envelope out of his pocket and gave it to Kadir. "Read this letter during the trip." Kadir took the letter and the car started off again. He looked back at Assad and Alan as long as he could. The trip turned towards Halabja and Kadir opened the envelope that contained several ten-dinar notes and a wrapped-up piece of paper with Alan's scribbled handwriting on it: "Hope this comes in handy! Until we meet again, your uncle Alan." Kadir felt moved.

In Halabja, Amina was sitting in her lovely house, happy that the cold winter was now over but at the same time concerned about what could happen in the country. She wore a black-and-white flowery Kurdish dress, a typical way of dressing for women at her age. She went to the bedroom and then quickly into the living as if she were looking for something and finally asked her daughter Narmin: "Have you seen my barmal? Where is it?" Narmin responded with a warm smile and handed the barmal to her. Amina quickly put the barmal on the floor and turned to face Mekkah and started to pray. She spoke to God in a calm and gentle voice: "Almighty God! God, great God! You who created heaven and earth, people and all life. You who are great and merciful, can you forgive the guilty? Put the light of peace in their hearts! Help them to find the true path to an agreement. You, almighty God, everything happens according to your will. Give the good peace-loving people a chance! Let us live in peace! Let us keep our families and relatives. Don't let war break out again. Don't let families be split up. Almighty one, light a candle in Kadir's mind so that he keeps up with his studies!" She was aware that Kadir was going to join the Peshmergas if it came to a war but nonetheless she did not want to stop hoping that he would stay in Baghdad even if there were a war. Towards four o'clock in the afternoon Kadir arrived. He got out of the car and quickly headed for home. His dusty unkempt hair and unshaven beard did not quite fit his elegant black suit. He heard someone whisper as he passed on the pavement: "Kadir is back, something serious must have happened!"

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Kadir shook hands and exchanged a few friendly words with people he knew on his way home. He went in through the gate that was always open in the daytime and Amina, who was still sitting on her barmal, was shocked and blurted out: "Is it you, my son? Is this true?" She called to her daughter Narmin. "Look who's come back!" They both rushed up to Kadir and embraced him. Kadir could see the concern in his mother's expression and turned to her and gently asked: "What has happened? What's wrong with you, my dear mother? You look as if you've come back from the grave? Tell me, Amina, aren't you happy to see your son?" Amina thought of telling him how she felt but changed her mind. She knew her own son well enough and knew there was no point in reasoning with him so she just shook her head gently and said: "You are my light and my joy, you and all of my children! You are my yearning that colours my life. You have been everything I lived for! You will always have my love even when you don't deserve it." She hugged Kadir and tears ran from her bright eyes. "In times like these no one can remain safe. Anything can happen if God does not come and help us. Why shouldn't I be happy to see my own son?" A wave of fear went through her that she tried to conceal. "What is written must be, that is God's will, no one can prevent it," she thought to herself. "How is Alan and his family?" she asked, looking around her. "They are well and send their regards. I already miss them, I miss the little brats who livened up the house with their noise and running about." "Of course," said Amina, "They are your second family. Tell me, Kadir, what is going to happen, will there be a war or not?" "I don't really know myself, but the situation is critical and different rumours come and go, I think you should move for the time being to Suleimaniya and live with Sirwan or with Alan in Baghdad. There was a short moment of silence and then Amina said: "We'll move to Suleimaniya. We first thought we should go live with Alan in Baghdad but Sirwan insisted and wanted us to move in with them for the time being. He's coming next week to get us." "That's a good idea," Kadir replied. Amina nodded but then went on in a cracked voice: "But how can I leave you alone here?" ^She hugged him again and he felt touched and quickly said:

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"Do you think I'll stay here in Halabja if war comes. I'll join the Peshmergas. What will you do then all alone in this big house? You must go to Sirwan. I'll be all right, but first I have to hide everything of value. What do you think the burglars are waiting for? As soon as the house is empty they'll clean it out and then they'll go through every last house on the street." Amina drew a deep sigh. "Let them do it, I'd rather have that then let them get a drop of your blood." "You have to be with Narmin, not with me," Kadir said with determination as he looked at his mother. "Yes, I'm more or less forced to go along, but I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing." "But you are doing the right thing, dear mother!" Kadir felt annoyed and would have liked to change the subject so he asked for Little Brother. "He is the way he is, he's got a little bit better but he drinks and fights a lot and he forces me to give him money. Do you know what that hooligan did when he heard about negotiations with the government? He built a doghouse for the neighbourhood kids and a few days later he packed his bags and went to Suleimaniya and openly said: 'I don't want to live like an animal on those mountain paths! I'll never bear arms and become a Peshmerga! I want to live, I'm scared for my life and don't intend to risk anything!'" "He always has an answer ready," said Kadir, "Did he say anything about me?" "He said: 'Kadir is an idiot and if only he had a little bit of brains in his head he'd stay on in Baghdad and continue his studies. The regime usually amnesties everybody if there's a war. He has to think more of his future!'" Amina embraced Kadir again and said: "Aren't you afraid of losing your life? Who isn't? God, what can I do, what can an old woman like me do other than pray?" He kissed his mother's hand and said: "You are my greatest saint. You who are much closer to God than I am, spare a prayer for me!" "I'll do that," she said. He went to his room and Amina went to the kitchen and warmed the meal. When she called him to come he had gone to sleep with his clothes on. Several hours had passed when he woke up. He first stretched his hand out cautiously and looked at the clock. He got up from bed abruptly. "Oh, God, I was asleep for more than two hours! Amina, I'm hungry!" With a smile on her face, she answered:

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"Wait a little." She went to the kitchen, warmed the meal up and served it. Kadir hardly chewed it. He just shovelled in the well-prepared food. After the meal he went to the bathroom and washed his face. He looked at himself in the mirror for the first time since he got back. "My God, I look like a gangster!" He quickly shaved. Then he took his suit off and carefully folded it on the sofa. He took out his brown shawl. While he dressed, he spoke to himself: "Now maybe the real hell will start. The one that never ends. Today I take my first step on the way to hell!" Kadir then went to his hiding place and took out the shining automatic rifle. When he held it in his hands a wave of contradictory feelings surged through him. He mumbled to himself in a low voice: "My cousin, Doran, drowned in his own blood when he held this weapon. Now it's my turn to bear it! It shoots thirty shots a round." He shook his head. "Soon the winds of war will be blowing and there you only have one chance. If you don't shoot first you get shot yourself. If I don't kill I'll be killed." He hung up the gun on the living room wall and turned his gaze to the sky beyond the window. "What has happened to us, where have the good people gone? Why all this killing? Have people lost their minds or what the hell are they trying to do?" Amina came in a interrupted his thoughts. "Do you want some tea? Do you want some fruit?" "No," Kadir answered. Amina said gently: "For my sake, Kadir!" "I'm all full. I can't eat any more - not even your delicious buns." "Well then, my son, I know you're tired from your trip, we'll talk more tomorrow." Kadir longed to see his cousin Raza and since it was only half past eight he went out to look for him.

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School had been closed for some time, most of the teachers had left town and no one knew when the school would open again. Fatih was in sixth grade and was one of the best

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students in the class. The teachers thought he would go a long way if only he got the opportunity to continue his studies. Fatih had been apprenticed to the tailor Otman for a few years now and had learned a lot about the art of sewing clothing. He was still very reserved and was often off in his own little world where he brooded over the unanswered questions about his dead mother. He had never got any explanation for what had happened to his mother and he was not used to getting very much understanding for his situation in life. He suffered every time he thought of his mama and asked a thousand questions: "Why did she die right after my birth? Whose fault was it? Was it my fault?" He often thought he could read in people's faces what they were thinking and he blamed himself for being alive while his mother was dead in her grave. Fatih thought more of his birds than he did of other people and his thoughts mostly revolved around the doves that he took care of every evening.

Otman the tailor was the same as he had always been, at the least little resistance he lost his temper and hit Fatih who hated him and he couldn't understand how he had the strength to put up with someone who beat him for the least little reason. Sometimes the tailor stopped money out of his wages if his work wasn't as the tailor had told him or if he was late. It was coming up to noon and Fatih was on his way home for lunch. He was angry and complained about Otman. "That damned cheapskate world rather die than offer me anything. May God take him! He can't even afford to invite me for a kebab and a warm loaf of bread. I've worked for him for four years and never got anything, not even a caramel! What a character, he only saves! He probably doesn't shit to avoid being hungry, the bastard! To hell with him! The only thing he can do is to frighten me with his raucous voice: 'Go home and eat, Fatih! Don't be late Fatih! Leave the doves alone, Fatih!'" Fatih kicked a large stone that lay on the path. "That bastard thinks that he owns me, that I'm his errand boy and that he can do what he wants with me, the skinflint! One day when I grow up I'll kill that godless donkey!"

That afternoon Fatih began to think about things since he noticed that the town looked different. Many armed men that he didn't recognise were wandering around and talking out loud. When he got to the little alleys near Basha Street he felt relieved when confronted with the fragrance of rice and home-cooked chicken.

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He went into the house and sat on the kitchen floor. Narin served the meal and he ate quickly and gluttonously. After the meal was over he forgot as usual that the tailor had warned him not to be late getting back. He went up on the roof and threw his doves up in the air, one after another. They flew high up and turned summersaults and then landed on his shoulder. Time passed and he was happy until the tailor's face popped up in his fantasies. He got scared and hurried down the stairs and headed straight for the shop. He had a vision of the tailor looking at his watch and getting furious over him.

When he got there, he went into the tailor's shop and immediately realised what was waiting. The tailor shouted out loud and rushed at him: "You good-for-nothing!" he shouted with rage. "I'll teach you to obey! I'll teach you what order is! I told you to come on time!" He rushed at Fatih and grabbed his shirt. "Why are you late getting back? You're not working here for nothing, you get a dinar every week! I'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget and then I'll deduct it from your pay. I warned you! I'll teach you, you little scoundrel, how to obey orders! You can't become a tailor just any old way!" Otman held him tight in his grasp and shook him while shouting so much that Fatih felt the earth shake. "You idiot, you damned idiot!" Fatih had to take blow after blow form the tailor who hit him all the harder. All of the disappointments and aggression that were so hard for him to bear were taken out on the poor kid. He shouted every time he hit: "You are more than two hours late, lunch was only a half-hour!" Fatih cried out in tears but Otman hit him even harder and made so much noise that the neighbours, led by Omar, came in to rescue Fatih from his clutches. Omar was furious when he saw what had happened. "Stop it you godless bastard, can't you see that he's only a child! Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Think if his father finds out about this!" "I hit him to help bring him up, I hit him for his own good!" "Fatih is Waly's little darling," said Omar, "And that's why he never remarried. He would bash your head in if he saw you hitting him like this! Have you gone mad? What difference does it make if Fatih is late? You don't even have any customers! Do you think that by beating this poor boy you'll get back the income you lost today? You have no fear of God." Otman turned red, containing his rage. "That boy is driving me crazy, he has no respect for adults."

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Omar got so irritated by Otman that he felt like hitting him and he shouted so that all the neighbours came: "What's wrong with you? You have beaten every single apprentice you ever had over the years. Ahmad became a Peshmerga because of you and he came close to killing you. You simply have no shame. You promised Ahmad you would never beat your apprentice but now you're doing it again!" Otman was so annoyed when he heard Ahmad's name mentioned that he lost all his self-control and lunged at Omar but the neighbours intervened and held them apart. He hissed at Fatih: "This will cost you dear, all this is your fault. You disobedient dog!" Fatih sat crumpled up from fright in a corner and covered his face with his hands.

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Kadir had changed, his years in Baghdad had been fruitful and he had matured and developed a broader outlook on life. He abandoned his fanatical thinking, became more open and developed more and more tolerance for the thoughts and views of others. With the passage of time he lost his faith in politics and he doubted more and more that war could solve Kurdish problems. But resistance to such thinking was so strong in the party that he could not openly reveal his doubts. He kept what he thought and felt about the Peshmerga war to himself and his closest friends. He kept to himself and tried to be as invisible as possible. He went to some political meetings but was otherwise more or less passive. In the evenings he hid and avoided people that had questions about the critical political situation. But he got little peace and quiet at home and decided to go visit cousin Omar's family. Kadir went slowly through the streets of town. He saw a group of armed men that he didn't recognise. They got into a car and drove out of town. he stared at them for a while and then felt disappointed. Aggressive impulses overcame him when he looked about him on the desolate street.

That same evening Karim Bey was sitting on a bench in front of his house, enjoying spring's fresh air, outwardly unconcerned about the country's political situation. Karim Bey who was sixty years old was now retired. He was one of the town's best liked people. He was big and had a bright round face and hair that had become thin and white. He was always well dressed in suits of older vintage. Karim Bey was always friendly and in good humour. His house was open to guests, invited or otherwise. He helped all who turned to him with his good advice. His quick wit and his stories about

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love, life and death made everyone like him. He came of a well-known rich family since his father had been a prominent person in the Ottoman Empire. Karim Bey had no children and had never married and no one knew or asked why. With his status he could easily have been married to several wives at the same time.

When Kadir came towards the Peshmerga headquarters he heard someone call out his name. "Kadir, Kadir!" When he turned around he saw Karim Bey. He went up to him quickly. First they shook hands, then Kadir kissed his hand. Karim Bey kissed Kadir's head and asked with a smile on his face: "Are you still here? I thought you'd have gone to the Peshmergas' central command." "No, my Bey," said Kadir respectfully, "I'm staying here and still waiting to see what happens." Kadir inquired in a friendly and respectful manner: "How are you feeling tonight, Karim Bey?" "I feel as usual, nothing special. Come, my son. Don't just stand there, come sit with me. You must have a lot to tell." He turned to the house and called out: "Fata! Fata!" Fata came out. She saw Kadir and greeted him. "How are you and your family? It's certainly nice to see you, we didn't know that you were still in town!" "Thank you, all is well. I came a week ago. I haven't even seen Colonel Ahmad. Where is he?" "He's in Tawela, he wanted us to move there but we said absolutely not. We can't spend all our life fleeing, I don't think the regime will bomb civilians any more." She turned to Karim Bey: "Would you like something?" "I could use some tea and some of your excellent cakes, dear Fata." Fata smiled jovially and said: "Of course, my Bey," and then went in the house.

Karim Bey turned to Kadir and looked at him with his bright lively eyes and asked: "How is your family doing? Your mother?"

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"Thank you, they have fled, she and Narmin went to Sirwan in Suleimaniya and they'll be there for a long time. I'm relieved now that they're gone." "How is the little trouble maker, Little Brother?" "He's already in Suleimaniya, Little Brother is afraid of war and killing. He said he doesn't want to live in an area where two armies are constantly at war with each other. Karim Bey was silent for a moment and then said: "For once that brat is right. To live in these desolate parts is like committing suicide. We have been through a lot of misery and still we love to live. We try to flee and save our lives and Little Brother is doing the same thing." He went on in his very calm and gentle voice: "I intend to stay here even if I know that my house will be hit by a bomb and bury me underneath it. I feel a powerful force keeping me here in this town, something I don't know how to explain. I have responsibility to myself, to Fata and to all the good people that I've spent a whole lifetime with. How could I leave them?" Kadir listened to the old man and was surprised that he had decided to stay in the city. Karim Bey was silent a while but then said: "Listen carefully, my son, to our Kurdish proverb: 'Even a stone belongs in its own place, if you move it then it will never get its old place back again.' Life is so complicated, I have my roots here and I've spent my entire life here. I would like to turn the clock back to the good old peaceful times we all had together here. What hurts me most is that in my last days I have to see all the suffering that is engulfing my people." He took a deep sigh and then continued: "In some way I'm tied down here. My mother told me that when I was born in this house a party was held that lasted for seven days and seven nights. I grew up in this town and here I've had my good times and my bad times. In this town I lost my betrothed in an accident and I promised myself that I would never again commit myself to a woman. I've lived so many years with these warm, friendly, spontaneous people. If I flee or am forced to flee I can just as well die." Kadir felt pressed for time and glanced furtively at his watch. Karim Bey noticed this. "Where are you off to, my son? Maybe I'm holding you up." Kadir turned red in the face. He was so embarrassed that he felt like sinking into the ground. This was not the way to behave when the elderly were talking. One always had to show respect and commitment. As long as older people spoke younger people had to listen and show their interest. He realised he had made a mistake. With his head bowed towards the pavement he answered:

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"No, my Bey, I am not going anywhere. I just thought it would be nice to visit someone, perhaps Omar's family." "Which Omar?" Karim Bey asked "My cousin." "Ah yes, give him my regards. It was nice talking to you. Stop by again if you have the time. Now it's growing a little cold outside. I'll go to bed early tonight, maybe after the news!" They shook hands with each other. Kadir showed his respect by putting his hands on his chest and nodding his head slightly before Bey went back in the house. Kadir then continued walking to his cousin's house.

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It was a sunny afternoon and the women sat in front of their houses in small groups. Every now and then horse-drawn carts, cars and lorries passed by on their way out of the city. The women looked worried and serious but they found security in each other. Just at this moment they had very little to do and gossip was their rescue. Today Shama was happy about Komri having fled and the fact that they might never see each other again. Now she could speak unfettered without having to worry about being interrupted. When Komri was not there was no one among the women who could challenge her. Shama sat on the ground and had her son Toana and her youngest daughter on her lap. She spoke in a loud and clear voice to the other women. "We are at the same starting-off point again. What we feared the most is coming true. Fifteen years ago the Peshmergas said that they were fighting to liberate us. Now, fifteen years later we are sitting in the same position and they want to fight for us once again." She shook her head and the women listening to her noticed that she was in her best form. "Those young cubs," she said, "that bear arms and ammunition were little boys fifteen years ago. If things go on like that then today's little boys will be the future's Peshmerga in fifteen years' time." She pointed to Toana. "This big donkey on my lap will be one of them!" She let off an affected and exaggerated sigh and looked at Komri's house. She pointed at the house and laughed again. "And where are they now, with their big mouths? And where is our darling, Komri's husband, Eagle Nose, the war hawk? He who wore Kurdish clothes for the first

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time and was covered from top to toe with ammunition and grenades. That was surely more than thirty kilos. I dont understand how he managed to carry them all, that goodfor-nothing! Where is he now? Eagle Nose who thinks he can do everything! His little brain has the key to all locked doors and who always thinks he knows best."

Toana pulled his sister by the hair and wanted to take a toy away from her that she was holding tightly in her hand. She groaned and Shama interrupted herself quickly and pushed Toana away. "Leave her alone, you dog. Go and play with the other kids!" Toana did not want to leave, instead he cried and stamped his feet on the ground. "My toy, my toy!" "Stop whimpering, or you'll get a hiding," said Shama and lit up a cigarette while she turned to Assim, one of the older women: "God has forsaken us and have only ourselves to blame. We are the ones who are the problem, before the war we lived in harmony, Kurds and Arabs together. There was law and order, there was food for everyone. Now people have changed, we solve a problem but we create a thousand other ones instead. We talk about oppression." Shama put out her cigarette butt and raised her voice when she saw the others listening attentively. "Who oppresses us the most? We Kurds among ourselves or Arabs against Kurds? Most of those in these gangs of bandits are all ruthless idiots who are only interested in their own ends, whether you call it struggle or revolution. We've seen it with our own eyes - no one, neither the Peshmergas or the regime, are any better than anyone else!" Shama got up and pointed out at the street. "Look at those strong men who spoke so well about war and liberation. Where are they now? Now is when we need their revolutionary help. Why do they leave us and flee like rabbits? I wish I could strangle the cowardly bastards. If they can't protect us, why do they throw us to the regime's hungry hounds? Do you think that all those young people bearing arms know what law and order and rights mean? They are just children and the war destroys their lives. Many of them have grown up without parents and many of them have lost a limb. How many families have now lost their children or all of their property? Have we forgotten them? My sister could still be among us but now she lies buried deep down in the ground. We are blind and our leaders are blind and cannot see for us." Assim pitched in in a gentle voice:

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"I don't want to be struck by misfortune. Who do you think is worst affected if war comes?" She provided the answer herself. "It is only innocent women, old people and children. We are the ones who have to pay for their experimenting and their insanities. My neighbour's son Adil was only a little squirt and now he's a section leader with the Peshmergas. And I pray an extra prayer every day that he won't be wounded or killed."

One of the younger women felt pressured to put in her pence worth. She felt that Shama had gone too far since she only complained about the Peshmergas and believed that it would be the Peshmergas' fault if war broke out again. "Do you think that the regime are our guardian angles?" she said. "Each and every one of them has blood on his hands. Murderers and criminals are the ones in government. They throw people into prison without a trial, torture people to death and fire people for no reason. No on can trust them. It's not the Peshmergas' fault that the regime is led by ruthless and criminal people. The war has been forced on the Peshmerga, they simply have no choice." She looked around and went on: "It's unjust to accuse only the Peshmergas and not the bloodthirsty murderers in the government." Shama was irritated but tried to control herself. She quickly cut the woman off: "What are you prattling about, do you dare question what I say, you good-fornothing woman, who asked you for your opinion? If you can't understand what I say then shut up!" She took a step towards the woman who looked terrified. "Do you think that I'm an idiot that doesn't know what she says? I used to say that those who ruled the country here should be sent to prison if they behaved this way in a civilised country. But now they're heroes and make their own laws. What difference does it make who is more guilty or not, ultimately we are the ones who have to pay the price. We, Arabs as well as Kurds, have no choice when we live in a country with such rulers." The young woman felt paralysed and the words dried on her tongue. She was white in the face and she nodded in agreement the entire time as if she had changed her views. "You are right, Shama." Assim came up with a rejoinder. She felt that the regime would bear responsibility if war broke out. "We have to defend ourselves!"

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"Only the innocent die!" Shama interrupted her. "To whom are we to turn, there is no safe place where we can feel safe! And even if there was such a place, how could we find it? For more than five years altogether I have been pregnant. I already have six children and I may be pregnant again." She quickly lit a cigarette ad continued: "What is the use of taking care of children and bringing them up for such a dismal future, if I or my children are only going to die? Do you know why we are sitting here today? We our mourning our fate! That is what we are doing, my ladies! We harp on our old wounds and mourn the city. The godless pilots may appear again at any moment. What do you say about that, Assim?" Assim didn't know what to answer, she was afraid of upsetting Shama. "Only God can come to our aid!" "God's help is on the way, Assim!" Shama said ironically. "Every day is a new struggle for us, to clean with a hand-rolled bunch of twigs, to wash clothes by hand, cook meals for fifteen people and in between to go to bed with our husband to keep him in a good mood! Day after day the same thing and no benefit from it all. To hell with those that don't appreciate life and who play with people's fate! Those of us that are poor can't afford to flee. To whom should we turn?" Shama's eyes were black with rage. "I haven't forgotten about my dead sister, she wasn't just a sister, she was my best friend as well. She was worth more to me than my own eyes. How many more people like her are we to sacrifice and for what good?" She sighed deeply. "We are the only ones, women and children, who have to pay such a high price! After every attack everything returns to normal but not for my sister, my friend that died. What do you think awaits us if war breaks out?" Shama asked. She gave the answer herself: "Death awaits us. If we are bombed many people will die. How many and who only God can say! It may be me or you, Assim, or someone else or all of us! I feel the scent of Iraqi fighter aircraft!" Shama wept. Assim patted her on the cheek. "What a world we live in. Before we all took care of each other and every one pitched in. Neighbours as well as members of the family, but now only money and riches count. Everyone is trying to earn money with everything, with fear, torture and even with death. When the shopkeepers heard that there might be a war they started raising prices." The other women agreed.

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"Yes, of course, everything is much too expensive nowadays. How can you afford to pay twice the price for the what you have to buy? Where should we scrape up the money for food and necessities?" The Widow sat in silence. In one of her hands she was holding a tashi, a device used for spinning wool, while she simultaneously fastened a thread in the other hand. Nowadays she was both hard-of-hearing and had poor eyesight. She frequently kept to herself and didn't care what the others talked about but when she heard the words "death" or "war" she became yellow in the face and shook all over. The younger women were irritated by her and felt that this old woman had already lived her life and yet she was more afraid for her life than the young ones were. They felt she had lived a long time and no one could live for ever. Several of the women were dissatisfied with the fruitless chitchat but they couldn't express what they felt in Shama's presence. They nodded in agreement as they always did. Toana snuck up on his younger sister and suddenly a groan was heard and he ran away. "That's for you," he shouted triumphantly while he pulled on Shama's shawl. Shama became angry and shouted at him. "Stop it, you bastard!" But Toana kept up teasing his sister until Shama lost her patience and ran after him, shouting: "You are almost four years old and I still nurse you! You monster!" Toana ran away towards the new doghouse and Shama sat down again and everyone squirmed as if they all wanted to get up to show their respect. Shama lit another home-rolled cigarette and went on with her lamentations. She shook her head and said: "We don't have it easy in this life. We can't control what happens but we are affected by it nonetheless. It makes no sense for us to talk about it. It would be better for us to bury it and put ourselves in God's hands." The women responded with in a relieved tone of voice: "Yes, that's what we should do!" Someone asked if anyone had seen Fatima recently. "She's at home preparing food and washing clothes, the poor thing." "Do you know, ladies," said Shama, taking a deep breath, "I feel so sorry for her and her miserable life with that bastard of a man. But I have promised God that I won't bother about her. If she doesn't listen to my advice then I don't care about her. It serves her right, she wants to be beaten, doesn't she?" "You know best, Shama, you are right in saying that, one can't keep up helping others, she has to do something about her own situation. Look at Sabri, how she got

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divorced from Aha Moustache-Less and forced him to pay her support. She was only with him for a week and then she left him for good. Shama interrupted her: "Sabri, I know her, she's brave and has an army of brothers behind her. What could Moustache-Less do, just pay to get rid of the problem! But now I dont care about her and the whole lot." The gleam returned to her eyes when she asked insinuatingly: "Do you know what I heard the other day?" "No," the women answered, full of expectation. Shama giggled and gleefully went on: "There are rumours going about that Nihayat who lives in Kanyaskan has been unfaithful and that she has brought shame on her entire neighbourhood. "I knew it! That whore always has new clothes on! Where does she get all the money from? And all those fine presents? She is always elegant and clean like a princess. I always wondered where she got all the fine dresses from!" "She has earned them," said Assim, "With her own sweat in many a bed!" "Dear people, Nihayat has been unfaithful for many years and the whole town knows about it, even her own husband knows. That's nothing new. She has gone to bed with everyone, and she's particularly charmed with those of them that have something to do with the Peshmergas. That's why she can do what she does!" "She's just a cheap whore that screws with everyone!" said a newly wed young woman who looked enraged. "What a husband!" said Shama, "A real pimp, that's what he is, finding all these men for her. If he were a real man he would do something about it. If he had been a real man, she would have been dead long ago!" "Just kill her!" said the newly wed woman. "She brings shame on all of us women!" Shama shook her head. "I remember that she was the most beautiful woman in the whole neighbourhood and she flirted with everyone when she was young, she wasn't shy like you should be. Where is she now, by the way!" "She's in Suleimaniya, trying out government men!"

Hapsa's husband came out and cautiously closed the door behind him. As he passed by Shama and the other women he had an uneasy feeling. The women sat there completely silent and he blushed and passed by with his head down, looking at the ground. He felt

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twenty pairs of prying eyes and quickly disappeared out of sight for the women who just as quickly started gossiping again. Shama asked out of curiosity: "Where is Hapsa?" "At home." "What is she doing at home?" She said nothing for a short while and then went on: "Some people are born under a lucky star. Hapsa has a husband who's the nicest man in the world and he can't do anything without asking her permission. Everyone knows that he can't even move his little finger unless Hapsa says so." Assim lit up a cigarette. "What a husband. To hell with him! He doesn't have a moustache, a husband who cleans, washes up, cooks meals and takes care of children isn't a real man! Hapsa has got her claws on him!" Shama laughed out loud. "Or she's got him between her legs. For years she's been riding on him. Just right is best, not like Fatima's husband and not like Hapsa's!" The women began to feel a little bit nervous when Hapsa came out a greeted them cordially. "I heard my name, have you been talking about me?" "Of course, my dearest sister," said Shama, making way for her to sit down. "Of course we've been speaking of you!" "I hope you've been speaking well of me," said Hapsa, sitting down. "What do you think, my dear sister. God knows how much I like you. I'll cut off the tongue of anyone who speaks ill of you. We've been living as neighbours on the same street for so many years, we are more than sisters to each other!" The women shook their heads and said in unison: "All those of us who live on this street are like one big family. We like you so much, Hapsa!" Hapsa contented herself with the explanation given by the women but deep down inside her she had a feeling that they had been speaking ill of her. She patted Shama on the cheek and whispered in her ear: "Your archenemy isn't here today. Don't you miss your best friend, Komri and her husband, Eagle Nose?" "Haven't you heard that they fled to Suleimaniya, back safe in the enemy's lap." Shama flared up when she heard Komri's name. "My dear sisters," she said, "What can we expect of a woman with such a long tongue. Komri's mouth is full of word like "morality," "struggle," and "freedom" and I

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knew that Eagle Nose wasn't the type of man to keep his word. He just had a brief exhibition with arms and ammunition. That ungrateful little rat Eagle Nose fled with his family as soon as he saw that things were getting serious. People like that never loose anything. It's written on their forehead that they're going to make money on everything. Otherwise they could have stayed here with us. This isn't the first time. Komri's life is not worth any more than ours is. She's let us down, the cantankerous old bag. The only thing she has is a big mouth!" Shama saw how the women around her reacted to what she said and she had a feeling that she may have gone too far and that some of her words should have been left unsaid. She was silent for a brief moment and thought to herself: "I should have thought about it before I said that. But a bullet fired never returns to its pistol!" She knew that Komri would never forgive her if she heard what she had said and certainly some of the other women would report it back to her. She decided that attack was the best defence and now started to disclose more about Komri and her family secrets. "You know, when they moved here they had no property. Eagle Nose was a teacher in a conventional school. They were very cheap and saved money all the time. That's the type of people who get rich and famous," Shama said in a convincing tone of voice. "Her husband isn't called Eagle Nose for nothing. He hunted up good business as well. He knew how to bribe the police and any other official. He always had two sources of income, one from the school and the other one from smuggling. He was constantly opening up new businesses and buying new properties. He made money off times of crisis and off farmers. He gave the farmers credit and they bought goods from him for high prices or paid with products that Eagle Nose in turn sold at high prices." Shama pointed to Komri's house. "How do you think they could afford building that castle there?" She answered herself: "It was done at the expense of the farmers. Komri felt she was better than the rest of us. Everything she had was so important and her children were the best in school, her relatives were of royal birth, her jewellery was of the noblest kind and she was richer than the rest of us! Thank the good God that she beat it, now that she's gone there's peace and quiet here on this street. We're together and we stick together. This is not the first time that we manage by ourselves. It's not so certain that those who fled will survive. No one has his life under control if he lives in a country like ours!" "Mama," cried little Toana, "I want to buy sweets!" Shamara answered: "I don't have any money on me."

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"Toana stamped his feet on the ground and threw a mighty tantrum, whining and moaning. "I want some sweets!" Shama felt under pressure. "Can't you hear what I said, little bastard," she shouted, giving him a good slap. "That boy never leaves me alone for a minute. What a problem kid!" Toana cried even louder. She held him tight in her lap and shouted: "Calm down, boy!" Toana struggled for awhile but then fell asleep, exhausted, in her lap.

Shama now had the situation under control and felt increasingly secure. She felt happy and saw how attentive the women were when they listened to her. "Today we don't have to see beak-nose's ugly face. Komri's is no longer around, thank God, it's good that they moved! Otherwise we would be forced to spend hours listening to her problems, her fine family, her parties and suppers. I swear on the Koran that I'll never speak to her again. I'll renounce acquaintance with her. She thinks that the rest of us were all born in caves!" Assim thought of saying something good about Komri but the words dried in her mouth and she felt her blood pounding in her temples." "Are you crazy, Assim?" she thought to herself, "Would you dare stand up to Shama? Do you have enough courage to face her fury and nastiness? Think of yourself before you defend others!" Assim imagined that Komri heard what had been said about her. Shouldn't that lead to a fight such as they had never seen before on this street? The highly temperamental Komri had an even sharper and more venomous tongue than Shama did and the best thing one could do was to avoid it. She felt satisfied that she hadn't made any comments and wondered what concern it was of hers. "Let them squabble for eternity." She actually disliked both of them but didn't dare show it. Now she was happiest that they were at odds again and she would enjoy that situation as long as she could. Shama aroused Assim from her thoughts and patted her on the shoulder. "What have you been thinking of? You seem to be lost in thought. Come back, my dear sister." "It was nothing," Assim replied. Toana woke up and started to cry and bawl again. He kicked his legs around him. "I want money!" Shama felt constrained to give him something because of the presence of the others. She pinched him and gave him a coin. Toana was surprised but took it and ran off

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as fast as he could to little Osman's shop. Shama stared at him until he disappeared out of sight. "I'm envious of children," she said, "They have no idea what's going on around them. I like their honest and forthright attitude. They get straight to the point and say what they're thinking without beating around the bush." Suddenly, she paled as if she realised she had forgotten something. "I don't know, good God, why we bring children into these hard times. Last night I didn't get a wink of sleep. I brooded and prayed to God the whole time. Tell me, how can anyone sleep peacefully when death dances in front of our eyes?" The sound of children crying was heard from Assim's house but she didn't seem to notice it, until the others reminded her. "Assim, Assim, your daughter woke up!" Assim rushed in to her daughter who was in her cradle. "My little black angel, are you hungry?" The baby lay in the cradle, crying. Assim lifted her up and gave her a gentle hug before putting her to her breast. She nursed the little girl and started singing gentle Kurdish songs in a low voice while simultaneously combing the baby's thick black hair with her fingers. Afternoon prayers were called out from the mosque's loudspeaker and all the women rushed to their homes to pray.

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75

Those who stayed on in Halabja were on the verge of collapse. They worried about what would happen and their disappointment was obvious. They grew ever more restless and impatient, a slight misunderstanding sufficed for people to lose their temper and have them vent their anger and desperation on others. They attempted to suppress their thoughts by speaking and gossiping with each other or by playing cards. The population was divided up into different groups. Some were for the war and others were against it and everyone advanced his own particular arguments with intensity. On the other hand, no one could stand to hear anyone else's views so that debates seldom bore any fruit. The whole situation was without any rhyme or reason. Emotions ruled and arguments were more often than not without any logic. What appeared to outsiders to be arguments for this or that frequently concealed a strong inside fear of chaos and destruction. It was like a [raw biting whirlwind] taking everything with it in its path.

Some shops and stores were open without being able to sell anything. The barber Baktiar had no customers and instead sat in the cafe with Mahmod. At lunchtime Hairless, together with Fatso and his bodyguards, walked towards the centre of down and when they got to the cafe the older men got up and offered them a seat. Mahmod welcomed Hairless but he barely responded. Mahmod had never liked Hairless. He felt he was a moody individual who for one moment could be friendly and level-headed only to behave like a complete bastard the next minute. Mahmod's white hair and his thick eyebrows framed his warm brown eyes. His socialist thinking and ideas had led him to spend many years of his life in prison or exile abroad. His wife Halima and his son Raza had struggled hard to manage during the periods when Mahmod was not there.

When the tailor Fadil saw Behram Bey he felt relieved and called out to him as he passed by: "Listen, Behram Bey, would you like to play a round of tauli." Behram Bey came from a well-off family and had spent many years in prison with his friend Mahmod. He was one of the few who stood up for his views and openly defended socialist ideas. Fadil took out his tauli board and went to the cafe where he carefully laid it on the table. He sat down across from Behram Bey. They were among the best tauli players in town and it was always exciting to see them play against each other. This particular day, a new round would decide who was best and the loser would take his defeat so hard

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that he would prefer to disappear into the ground. Losing could result in the loser being harassed both by his opponent and by the spectators. The dice were thrown and guided the movements of the markers. Each cast brought more excitement and further hope of winnings not just for the players but for the spectators as well. Those who sat in the caf forgot about all the misery around them and tensely awaited the outcome. The game got underway and Fadil lost three games in a row. He felt his blood boil and his heart pound all the harder when he caught a glimpse of the malicious pleasure in Mahmod's eyes, staring at Fadil without saying anything. Behram Bey's eyes gleamed of pleasure, just as he at the same time tried to keep a mask on and not show Fadil how he felt. The silence was unbearable. When Fadil saw that he was on the way to losing his fifth game he began to scowl. He couldn't stand the thought of being defeated and therefore he broke off the game. He took the tauli board and went back to his place and slammed the door so hard that the glass pane in the door rattled. This had all happened so quickly that the spectators had not fully grasped what was happening. After a while they started to show how they felt. Mahmod turned to Behram Bey and said gleefully: "Your hands are worth gold!" "May God preserve them!" said Baktiar gleefully. "The impossible has happened." "There is no more fun than seeing Fadil beaten." "He who almost never loses." Hairless who had also been watching the game was not as delighted by the outcome. "Fadil lost because his thoughts weren't concentrated today otherwise he's a much better player then Behram Bey." "I'm not so sure about that," Mahmod replied.

When the game was over, thoughts and speculation returned to the uncertainties of the present situation. Mahmod turned his gaze towards Baktiar and said in a sad voice: "The war has started and where do we have to go to? Do you call this a life? The animals live better than we do. We just eat and sleep and can't change anything in our existence. Each of us has his own guardian and we have to adjust and swallow everything. We have grown accustomed to misery. Did God create us as soldiers and nothing else? We have been fighting for years on end but we still haven't got anywhere!" One could clearly read from Fatso's expression that he didn't like what Mahmod was saying, he looked at him angrily and didn't quite hear what was being said. But he grasped that Mahmod had gone too far. Fatso, who was easy to goad, felt himself

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vibrating inside. Hairless rocked on his chair and looked condescendingly at Mahmod. He spoke slowly and clearly: "These days, at this historic moment, the people must show their support and solidarity! What can we do, we are on the verge of an unjust war that can be foisted on us? Watch your tongue and don't look for trouble!" He raised his voice so that passers-by clearly heard what he was talking about. "Anyone who doesn't want to become a flower shouldn't become a thistle either! For your own sake, I'm telling you to be careful what you say." Hairless stared at Mahmod with a sharp gaze. "Don't fire a shot out into the dark. Are you with us or against us? The only thing we demand is that everyone weigh their words and think again before they speak out! Nobody should underestimate our struggle or speak ill of it. I don't want to hear any dissatisfaction or baseless rumours!" Mahmod looked surprised and did not quite know how to get out of this crazy situation. Should he keep quiet and swallow everything? Should he nod his head like all the others? He was disappointed that no one intervened to support him. He turned to Hairless and said in a calm and clear voice: "I don't intend to keep my mouth closed. You can surely find many people elsewhere willing to dance to your tune but not here with us! Tell me, what have we gotten in this life? No life, no dignity and no pride. The only thing we have left are our thoughts and our feelings. Do you want to take them away from us?" Mahmod suddenly burst out laughing. Hairless became furious and got up and shook Mahmod. He shouted: "You've gone too far, you bastard! You should thank God that you're related to the martyrs Doran and Brahem." Bystanders now intervened and kept Hairless and Mahmod apart. Fatso who had stayed calm after Hairless's outburst drew Hairless aside. Mahmod sat down with his friends again. He mumbled to himself: "Tomorrow I'm leaving the liberated zone. Maybe for good!" Fatso waited for Hairless to give him a signal so that he could go after Mahmod. "Should we haul in the spy," he whispered to Hairless, the evil clearly showing in his eye. Baktiar looked scared and would have preferred to leave. He was afraid of being subjected to Hairless's wrath and feared that Hairless would become furious and take revenge on him. He had a feeling that this discussion would lead to unpleasant ramification and that a single word could bring Hairless to the boiling point. What saved

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the situation was a loud noise coming from above. It sounded like a jet fighter. Baktiar called out: "They've come!" Everyone threw themselves down on the floor and lay still there. Hairless showed no fear. He remained standing and looked at them. It turned out after a few minutes that it was a false alarm. Baktiar took the opportunity to end the discussion by saying: "We have to close the shop. It would be pure suicide to stay here when the bombers come." Mahmod and Behram Bey looked at their watches and said: "We have to go home now, otherwise we'll miss afternoon prayers."

Hairless remained sitting on the bench with his bodyguards and thought about things. The bodyguards sat rigidly like obedient dogs without letting out a word. Hairless was angry and taciturn. His thoughts revolved around the ungrateful people who couldn't understand that one had to fight for freedom and independence. He turned to Fatso. "I know the bastards, they're against us. What should we do with them? There are thousands like Mahmod, they grow like weeds and are everywhere. They're worse than the enemy. Who forced them to live in the liberated zone? Ungrateful traitors who spread baneful rumours! What do they think?" Hairless spat in front of himself. "God hasn't given us our freedom as a gift. We had to fight to the last drop of blood. Every stone, every bush, every tree, every valley and every mountain is dyed with blood and reminds us of our struggle for freedom. What are those bastards doing here if they're not satisfied with us? Who has prevented them from fleeing? We have always stayed, we intend to defend what we have made sacrifices for. We will fight to the last man!" Fatso chimed in: "We never question the path of struggle! We do what we have to do. Let us teach the traitors a lesson." Hairless could not get his mind off Mahmod's provocative speech. He was working up a fury that was reflected in his rigid face and his tightly closed jaws. "I'll pick him up tomorrow when he travels to Suleimaniya," said Fatso to calm him down. "He'll see hell with his own eyes!" "I didn't hear anything," said Hairless. "Do what you have to, but I'm warning you not to kill him." "I promise, but I'll scare the shit out of him, I promise you that!" "Do what you have to!"

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Hairless laughed quietly and patted Fatso on the shoulders.

The following morning Mahmod went to Suleimaniya together with several women that were to be reunited with their husbands. Fatso and his men were standing at the last roadblock outside of town. They searched everyone that looked suspicious or who might be an enemy of the Peshmergas. When a car came up to the roadblock and Fatso saw Mahmod in the front seat he perked up. "Where are you off to, my darling?" Fatso twirled his moustache. "Get out of the car please," he said with affected politeness. Mahmod got out and Fatso looked at the others in the car, all of them with a single exception being older women. His eyes caught sight of the younger woman and her honey-coloured eyes. "Where are you going?" "To Suleimaniya!" The woman with the honey-coloured eyes showed her pass signed by Hairless. Fatso read the letter and felt somewhat disappointed. He went up to Mahmod who was standing as stiff as a statue. "And where are you headed for, spy?" "I'm going to get my pension in Suleimaniya." "Going to get your pension?" Fatso looked him straight in the eye. "Or to give information to the regime?" Mahmod stared at him and shook his head without saying anything. He realised it made little sense to argue with Fatso. "You can go!" said Fatso and turned to the women. "But you, Mahmod, can't leave the Halabja area." He waved to the others to let the car go and called in a loud voice to one of the other men. "Get a car, we'll give this gentleman a lift home again!"

On his way to the dungeon in Tawela, Fatso drove the car himself and he warned his men not to tell anyone that he had taken Mahmod prisoner. "I don't want his relatives to find out that we have him." Before they threw Mahmod in the dungeon, one of the guards hit him with a rifle butt so that he staggered. They pushed him into the cell and he fell on the floor before

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they locked the door behind them. Behram Bey, Hama Rashid and several other socialists who were already imprisoned rushed up and helped him get up.

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Three weeks had passed and the regime and the Peshmergas were still engaged in negotiations with little progress being made and things looked even bleaker than they had before. In Halabja there were few who believed in the agreement any longer. Rumours about the deadlock and the impending war were constantly circulating. Government supporters, teachers, students and others who were not welcome with the Peshmergas or who feared for their lives had already fled to Suleimaniya. The Peshmerga families were the first to flee towards the Iranian border with Hairless's three wives and all of his children in the van.

The city turned into a gigantic meeting and parting place. People were constantly leaving town and everywhere one could hear women and children crying and mourning. People embraced each other tightly and read hymns out loud as if they were leaving forever. And, at the same time and alongside of these farewells, a steady stream of recently arrived men, armed or unarmed, could be seen arriving, coming in a constant stream from the government controlled zone.

It was late in the afternoon but Kadir still lay in bed with his thoughts constantly wandering back and forth. In Baghdad he had felt alive but here in Halabja life had stopped for him. All he did was take part in boring meetings and fruitless debates during the daytime. As chairman of the Kurdish students he was obliged to side with the Peshmergas. He didn't dare open up and talk about his doubts or his feelings. It would have been unthinkable to mention how much he longed for life in Baghdad, for life as a student, for bars on the shore and nights in nightclubs with all their women. He lay there for a long time and turned in bed and it was close to lunchtime when he got up. When he looked out the window he said to himself: "Oh God, I must have slept too long. I have to get out of here, I can't stay here and dream much longer." He put on his clothes and took a German revolver with him, one of a type that was popular with the Peshmergas. He went straight to a restaurant and ate his lunch and then headed for the caf.

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The caf was filled with people and heated debate. An older man sat and listened in the background. He became irritated with the young people when he heard their reasoning about the war. He turned to his son sitting alongside him and said in a low voice: "Look at those cubs, they don't know what they're talking about and what they're letting themselves in for. I have been affected by the war and I know what I'm talking about. The war has bitten me like a snake and simply the word war# terrifies me after that. Nothing is worth a war, not with the suffering it entails. My life has been over ever since the day when my two little kids were taken away from me." The man look very depressed. He stared dejectedly at Fatso who was standing there, surrounded by his armed men. He pointed discreetly at him and said: "How can they reason so that they sacrifice their entire future in order to participate in a senseless hell? People move around without understanding what pawns they really are in this game. Some of them go to Suleimaniya and others to the refugee camp in Iran near the Iraqi border. Is Iran supposed to be a friend of the Kurds? How is it that the shah of Iran helps us while the Iranian Kurds don't even have the right to read and write in their own language? Everyone knows what Iran's intention is with this. It is a matter of the islands that Iran demands and Iraq refuses to give up." His son sat silently with his thoughts elsewhere. It appeared that he had heard this recording many times before.

During the next few weeks Fatso popped up everywhere in town. He strolled through Halabja's streets and markets and showed himself off in the daytime. His automatic rifle was always cleaned and so shiny that you could see your face in it and it fitted his large body build very well. He looked good and he had several Peshmergas with him who all walked a step behind him. Fatso looked happy and his eyes gleamed.

Fatso sat smugly in the caf. He took out a cigarette and immediately one of his men came up and lit it for him. He spoke so loud that everyone turned towards him to listen. "We have been forced to seek support from Iran, we have to be as crafty as they are and exploit them for our own advantage. As the proverb says, "The enemy of our enemy is our friend!" Iran is exploiting us in its conflict with Iraq and we exploit them in turn, we get everything we need, all military and humanitarian assistance in our struggle. Now the Peshmergas look like a real army, armed with modern weapons." When Fatso saw Kadir pass by he got up and shook hands with him. "It's been a long time!" Fatso's men likewise got up and greeted Kadir amicably to show their respect. "I thought of inviting you out but you were never around."

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"I'm at home most of the time and right now I'm on my way to the village to see Raza." "Come and sit down, drink something before you go," Fatso said in a friendly manner. Kadir sat down and Fatso motioned to the waiter who rushed forward. "A Coca Cola for my friend! These are hard times," Fatso said, scrutinising Kadir. "We can't do more than to wait to see God's will be done! Won't you be going to see the leadership?" "I don't know," Kadir replied in a low and restrained voice. "It depends on what happens but I would prefer to be a Peshmerga and participate in a real way. I haven't decided yet. We'll have to see what happens!" The waiter came with the chilled drink and there was a brief moment of silence before they continued. "There'll be war," said Fatso and his eyes gleamed. I don't think that Saddam and Bakr will agree to our conditions, they will never give up Kirkuk." Fatso stopped as if he were searching for a way to express things and then raised his voice. "They'll live to regret it, we'll never give up. This time we'll crush the enemy. No one can force us to yield. We will fight and defend ourselves." Kadir had only drunk half of his drink when the news blared out from the mosque's loudspeaker. "War has broken out, the city must be evacuated. The town of Kaladeza has just been bombed and many have been killed or wounded. It may be our turn next. We have to evacuate the city immediately!" The announcement was repeated time after time from the loudspeakers. Fatso got up and applauded. "What did I say?" Everyone sitting in the caf got up, they looked serious and tense and left the caf on the run, each going his own way. The news spread and panic was a reality. Fear of air attacks got the upper hand when everyone heard what had happened in Kaladeza. The streets were filled with people, old and young. Shouting and loud noises mixed together so that it was almost impossible to understand what was being said. People waved their arms and hands. "Do you know what has happened?" Everyone stared at the sky and every unexpected sound could have scared them to death.

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It wasn't long before the first families already started to leave in their own cars or horse-drawn carts. Those families that had access to cars or horse-drawn carts slowly moved along the roads. Women, men, old and young, with whining children holding their hands; everyone wanted to flee the city.

When Shama heard what had happened she rushed out and left her little daughter at home, she was hysterical from fear and when she didn't find Toana she panicked and tore her hair and beat her chest. She cried in desperation: "We have to get out of here, I have to find my kids! We have to leave, we'll die if we stay here! We won't stay for a second, we must get out or otherwise we'll meet the same fate as the people in Kaladeza!" Shama ran around like a mad woman and shouted and wept out loud to every other person she saw: "Have you seen my son?" Kadir saw her and rushed up to her. "I can't find Toana, where is my Toana?" She beat her chest even harder. "We have to get out of here, they're coming soon and we'll be bombed. Where are you, Toana? God take you, you bastard! This is the day we lived in fear of!" She search further away in the neighbourhood and in every possible place and asked passers by if they had seen a boy all alone. When Kadir passed by the new doghouse that Little Brother had built for the neighbourhood kids he had an inspiration that proved to be correct. "Your mama is beside herself!" he said and picked up Toana who was scared to death. Just at that moment Shama came from behind the neighbour's house. "You damned disobedient boy, you never listen to me!" she said, grabbing the boy. "Let me go, don't hurt me!" "Hurry, you rascal!" Shama shouted and spanked him a few times so that Toana burst out crying. "Stop crying, you devil," Shama went on hysterically and gave him a few more slaps. "Listen to me, you devil, just for once, we don't have time to argue!" Shama tweaked Toana's cheek and dragged him home crying the whole way. "We have to get out of here," Shama sobbed. "This town smells of blood, it's suicide to stay here."

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It wasn't long before all of her older children had gathered and they quickly decided to flee the city. They packed up the bare necessities. Shama had her two-year-old daughter on her back. She held Toana in one hand and carried a bag with food in the other one.

Time passed and more and more families clogged up the roads. People struggled to move forward in the heat. Most of the children had something on their backs and walked together with their parents. The crying of infants and whining from hunger was heard everywhere. The small kids were completely upset by the sudden changes that they couldn't understand. That day was one of the first sunny and warm ones. Worst off were infants and elderly people who suffered from the heat. The fear of attacks from the air never left them and every unidentified noise prompted people to gaze up at the sky nervously. Shama walked with her children. She was scared and irritated by the kids, which meant that she quickly hit them if they didn't listened to what she said. Occasionally she stopped and stared speechless at the clear blue sky. Toana cried. "I'm tired, I can't go on any more!" "Hurry up, you good-for-nothing, if it were a question of sweets you'd be quick enough." She slapped him. Toana stopped altogether and lay down on the ground. He couldn't go on. Shama cursed him but was forced to give in. She lay down on the ground alongside him. "We'll rest a little while. We don't have much more to go to get to the mountains." She drew him to her and was moved to tears when she saw how unhappy and scared he looked.

Many families that fled and sought shelter in villages and other areas soon tired of life on the run. When days went by and nothing happened they started to believe that the regime had changed its mind and no longer intended to bomb civilians now that they knew that all the armed men had left town. Assim and her family were among them and she said, convincingly: "We'll go home now, we have God with us, what is written on the forehead has to happen. We aren't wild animals, what should we do out here in the cold mountains, let's turn around, death is better than this life."

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She returned home with her family and by the next morning they had reached the neighbourhood where they were met by the Widow who gleamed with delight and rushed to meet them. "Welcome home!" The neighbourhoods were almost empty and only a few kids were about. One could see fear and emptiness reflected in their faces. They had picked up their parents' fright and understood that something horrible could happen. Children were much quieter than they normally were. The usual bawling and shouting was no longer heard. Those who were left in the city sat or stood on street corners, chatted and debated with each other. Only a few had opened up their stores and shops as if nothing had happened, including Baktiar the barber. They lived on hope and had faith in their ability to survive. They did not realise that for some of them this would be the last day of their life. Like so many times before, they abandoned themselves and their children to God and fate. The Widow, who sat in front of her house, sent a woman to Assim with a message that she should come to her home. When Assim came they sat together and mourned and expressed their feelings.

Kadir sat on one of the benches in the park together with Raza and saw how families that had previously fled were now coming back to town. The two friends sat in silence, immersed in their own thoughts and worries. Raza was now a reserve Peshmerga and he too was carrying an automatic rifle and ammunition around his back and waist. Kadir had volunteered to join the fight. They were awakened from their thoughts when they got a glimpse of a fully loaded horse cart approaching them. The driver looked contented and next to him sat a middle-aged woman and several kids perched on a pile of mattresses, laughing as if they were going on a picnic. The driver had a whip in his hand and a rolled cigarette in the other one. He seemed contented and not likely to complain about the situation. He was making extra money that day. Every round of helping a family to flee to safety was an welcome addition to the cashbox.

Aha Big-Head showed up on the more or less empty street. He walked slowly and looked pensive and seemed to be surveying the surroundings as if he had dropped something. He was wearing his usual dirty sharwal trousers, an ugly old-fashioned jacket that had been patched in many different places and big shoes of plastic with dried clay on them. Aha's face was full of wrinkles and he had a long white beard, a favourite haunt of insects. His hands were rough and covered with wounds. Nobody believed that he had had a bath in years or that he even knew what soap was. When he approached, people got out of his

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way. He gave off a stench and maintained an army of lice, enough of them to infest the whole town. People threw a coin or a piece of food at him as if he were a dog. People didn't care where he came from or why he was the way he was. He had found his palace, a hovel in an abandoned place outside of town, full of refuse and homeless cats and dogs. He could thank God that there weren't so many kids out and about that day as they tended to tease him and throw stones at him. Aha looked surprised as if he for the first time missed seeing people and wanted to know where they had gone. When Kadir caught a glimpse of the beggar he shouted: "Look who's coming, it's the king of beggars himself!" Before Aha got to Kadir and Raza, Kadir had thrown a coin at him, saying: "Aha, go to the Permohamad area! There are many families who remain there. You will surely get something to eat from them!" Delighted and with many prayers, Aha opened his cloth wallet and put the coin in it and tied the bag up again. He turned his face to Kadir: "God save you, God save you!" he mumbled, continuing on his way towards Permohamad. Kadir watched him disappear out of sight and then said: "Aha too has been affected by the town's misfortune since many people have fled from here. Today he must have knocked on a hundred doors before anyone opened to give him something." What a life," said Raza. "Who would miss him if he were to die or become ill? Who cares if he exists or not?" "Presumably no one," said Kadir. "He is treated like air! What joy does he have in the life he lives? Lonely and isolated among cats and dogs." Kadir felt uneasy about the discussion and tried to change the subject to something positive. "Who knows, his life might just make more sense than the one we are now living through. He owns nothing, nor can he lose anything he doesn't have."

A lorry drove by along the practically empty street. The street's accumulated dust was picked up several meters in the air like a giant wave and then slowly settled down on Kadir and Raza who got it on their heads, their faces and all over their clothes. "Those bastards could very well drive a little slower! It's only a question of seconds, they'll get there anyway." "Relax. We should blame ourselves for sitting here. It's not their fault that piles of dust collect along the roads. It's been at least a month since the streets were cleaned the last time."

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77

It was just coming up to five o'clock when bombers appeared over the skies of Halabja. The air raid sirens wailed incessantly. People threw themselves on the ground in panic or sought protection in shelters and trenches. Sobbing women, screaming kids and calls for help could be heard. "They've come!" The bombs fell and bullets rained down over the city, exploding bombs formed a great black cloud of smoke across the sky. Stones, bricks, broken glass mixed with thick dust flew up into the sky and then rained down again. The air felt under pressure and it was hard to breathe. The Widow ran sprightly towards the shelter as if she were suddenly ten years younger. She was the last to get to it and closed the door behind her. She was shaking all over and read hymns in a quivering voice: "God, we will all be buried, we won't make it!" She held her hands tightly to her ears.

The bombing continued and each time a bomb hit the ground in the vicinity it triggered more weeping and invocations of the Divine's name. Inside the shelter it seemed like an eternity and death crept up ever closer. When an explosion was heard from Shama's yard, the entire shelter shook violently. The air seemed to disappear and the pressure was so great that it was hard to bear it. Stones flew loose and a wall collapsed against the shelter and those inside were trapped. The Widow couldn't stand the pressure. Her heart pounded so hard that she thought that it would tear out of her chest. Assim had trouble breathing and she held her children pressed tightly to her body as she reproached herself: "God help me! This is my fault that my kids are here. Why aren't we sitting safe somewhere else?"

The air raid lasted several minutes but for those trapped it seemed like an eternity that would never end. And when the bombers finally disappeared, the alarm stopped its wailing but the petrified people inside stayed put where they were and didn't have the strength to move. Several men from civil defence began to search the streets and quickly removed blood-stained body parts that lay spread out on the street. They put blankets over the dead and helped the wounded to get up. Kadir and Raza has observed form the park how the bombers descended upon the town and when the attack was over they ran as fast as they could towards Kadir's neighbourhood.

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Before they got there, they saw a boy staring at the blue sky and bathed in his own blood. Kadir went up to him to examine him and said: "Poor Fatih! It's Fatih Green Eyes!" He went up to Fatih and felt his pulse. "Is he alive?" asked Raza and a wave of nausea overcame him so that he almost vomited. "He's alive!" Kadir felt a weak pulse and saw that Fatih's gaze was not dead. Fatih had been hit in the chest and had lost a lot of blood. Just at that moment, an ambulance appeared that Raza stopped. The ambulance attendants gave Fatih first aid and then quickly got him to hospital.

When Raza and Kadir reached the neighbourhood they discovered that Shama's house had bee hit by a bomb and that it was still burning. A little way off a heap of stones and bricks was lying, blocking the entrance to the shelter. They quickly began to move the stones away since they could hear screams and calls for help from inside the shelter. "They're trapped inside!" said Kadir. "Hurry, go and get help!" The rescue work progressed quickly. It took a half-hour to remove the stones and open the door. They went in and immediately saw that Assim was lifeless and couldn't move. She as unconscious and her children were clinging to her. They took her out with her terrified children. "Assim is alive," Kadir told the kids reassuringly, "She has just fainted!" Kadir searched through the shelter room and suddenly shouted to the others: "There's a woman here, she isn't moving!" He touched her body and tried to check her pulse but the woman had collapsed. He carried her outside and in the daylight he saw that it was the old Widow. "The Widow is dead!" The carefully laid her on the ground and covered her up with a blanket. Several civil defence workers passing by put her on a stretch and carried her to the mosque where the dead were being collected.

People from the villages close by rushed into town. They looked for relatives and wherever one looked one could see terrified human beings openly showing their feelings in the middle of all this chaos. Kadir and Raza hurried to Omar's house, which had not been hit that seriously in the attack. From a short distance away, they heard a faint noise in the ruins. They went towards the sound and saw a woman lying pinned down under

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several collapsed beams. She was calling for help. Several other men came running and together they lifted up the beams and carefully dragged the woman out and laid her on a stretcher. She was almost unconscious from pain and her legs had been broken. Blood from her wounds had dyed her clothing red. Kadir looked for more survivors and continued to dig among the ruins but he didn't find any. On his way to the next heap of ruins he saw a woman running away, sobbing uncontrollably with her lifeless baby in her arms. Her women neighbours ran after her and took the child away from her. The woman struck herself in the face with her hands, scratched her cheeks and tore her hair. "My child!"

Civil defence workers ran up and down all over town med with their stretchers, picking up the dead and the wounded. Those that were most seriously wounded were driven to hospital in ambulances and private cars. Everything happened quickly and mechanically. Everyone was in a state of shock. They were dusty in the face and hair. Blood and dust covered their clothes. The smell of fresh blood and burned flesh hung heavily all around them. There was not a single neighbourhood where no one had died. Many saw their close relatives die or suffer in front of their eyes without being able to do anything about it. The hospital looked like a slaughterhouse with amputated limbs and other body parts all over. Fatih lay on the floor with several others. Many of them cried out in pain. The hospital staff was unable to manage with everyone and they had a hard time choosing among the wounded. Many seriously wounded people bled to death because the bleeding could not be stopped in time.

Kadir was in shock and it was the same thing with Raza. They went up and down and checked ruin after ruin. Suddenly they heard a child crying in one of the houses that had been destroyed. They rushed over to it and removed all the stones and broken windows in order, finally, to be able to dig out the infant that was screaming hysterically in its cradle. Raza carefully picked the baby up and laid it on his lap. He tried to console it and rocked it back and forth. Just at that moment an hysterical and terrified mother came rushing in. She had torn her hair and scratched her cheeks with her nails. She shouted: "Where's my son, where's my son?" "Here he is, and he's unhurt!" The woman took the baby in her arms and pressed it to her. Tears constantly ran down her cheeks. She felt extremely thankful that her child had not been hurt. With eyes filled with tears she turned to Kadir. "I was just away for a short while at the neighbour's!"

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She repeated this several times as if she felt guilty that in her panic she had forgotten about her child. "Thank our good God that he's alive!" "It's a miracle that he made it in the middle of all that broken glass." "Yes, it must be a miracle, thank God!" She turned to Kadir and Raza before they went on. "God be with you!"

They continued along the road. Someone called out Kadir's name and he turned to find Omar come half-running. Omar, all out of breath, said: "Now the dead are to be buried!" They went to the burial grounds and all the while people joined the crowd so that it continually grew. Most of them moved forward mechanically without feeling what moved inside them. They walked forward with silent steps without saying anything. The shock rocked them forward and their gazes passed over heaps of ruins, bent steel beams, ashes, fallen down trees, traces of blood and parts of birds and dead animals. They kept getting closer to the burial grounds and finally they reached it. Omar took in everything with darkness in his eyes. Then he took a deep sigh. They saw who many different body parts were being mixed up together since no one knew which parts belonged together. The dead included some unidentified people who had come there from other parts of the country. The corpses had to be interred quickly since the stench of rotting could become unbearable and it could be expected to set in soon due to the hot weather. "Do you know how many have been killed?" "Plenty, but I don't know exactly." "Every neighbourhood has been struck and people have still been left lying out on the streets." "Thank God that the city was evacuated. Otherwise it would have been even worse." "Is there anyone that we know among them?" ""The Widow from our neighbourhood is dead," said Omar. "She's lying there next to the beggar Aha Big-Head." When Mullah Jalal came they began to lay the dead, one after another, into hastily dug trenches so that they cold then be covered over with soil. Everything happened very quickly, the dead aroused fear and hopelessness. When an infant was buried nobody was able to contain their tears. The innocent face could be seen briefly

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before the baby was lowered down and covered with sand. The mother wept hysterically and beat herself in desperation. The graves were arranged next to each other in rows. Each grave was bordered by two stones where a name could later be carved in. At the grave of the Widow and the beggar Aha, Omar wrote the names down and read a hymn silently to himself. Mullah Jalal read prayers by heart in a monotonous and consoling voice: "As quickly as possible your bloodied bodies are being buried, with wounds that will never heal, with longing that will never be satisfied, parts of bodies mixed up with blood-stained clothing, without any ceremony. You have been forced to die, you who are no longer with us. Your night will be a long and eternal night and soon your name will be erased from life. You have been taken by the forces of darkness. There will be more and more of you and no one can prevent the advance of darkness. You must know that you are martyrs and that you will live in paradise where you will have your eternal dwelling. God will give us the strength and consolation to bear the suffering and grief after you!"

After the burial, the crowd turned back to the city. Powerlessness could be seen reflected in their naked faces. They were so tired and exhausted that suffering no longer frightened them. They looked like prisoners released from a torture chamber who longed to returned to their miserable cells. They smelled of sweat, dust and blood. They walked slowly onwards like bodies without souls. They were still seized by shock but the sea of grief with its storm waves waited for them.

Nadia sat terrified at home, weeping uncontrollably and constantly vomiting. Her daughters, Hana and Delba, hugged her tight. The children were in despair. It was the first time they had seen their mother like this and they didn't know how to help her. "Where's papa, go and look for him, something will happen soon, we have to get out of here, hurry up Hana." Hana ran out to try to find Omar. She felt that Nadia's words were incoherent and could not understand what was going on. "We were buried alive here, we must get away. Where are you, Omar?, why have you left us by ourselves?" Nadia rocked back and forth. After awhile Hana came in the door and Nadia got up. "Did you find him?" "No, everyone is at the burial site." Nadia began to cry. "Burial and burial! We have to get out of here!"

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Little Tara cried louder and louder and was now almost blue in the face. Hana picked her up and carefully passed her on to Nadia. "Mama, she's hungry, you have to nurse her!"

When Omar came in the door Nadia ran up to him and cried in despair. "Where have you been?" "Take it easy," Omar consoled her. "I was at the burial site." Nadia wept. "We must leave here. They can come back at any moment. Look at your children, we have to get out of here!" Omar held her tight. "We'll be going!"

Fright did not release its hold on Nadia and Omar who were forced to seek shelter in one of the villages in the mountains. After a hour's drive they got to the village and the family settled for the time being in an uninhabited cave outside of the village. Omar borrowed a donkey from a farmer in the village and used it to get food and necessities to the cave that was to remain their home and refuge for a while to come.

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Just before the bomber attack, Fatso had an inkling of what was coming and called his men together: "We have to get out of here quick unless we want to be a target and maybe lose our lives. The situation is bad and things don' t look good for us unless we leave the city." The men got into the American jeep and drove through the city and out in the direction of Tawela. When they got there they heard from the mosque's loudspeaker what had happened in Halabja. "More than a hundred dead and wounded, several houses razed to the ground." The people were exhorted to conduct a holy war against the regime. The call was repeated time and again.

Fatso became furious and lost control of the car which drove off the road. They came close to running down several pedestrians but were able to steer it clear and came to a stop when the car hit a tree. "My mother may have been killed," he cried. "I told her several times that she should go with my wife and my kids but the damned old woman insisted on staying, it will be her own fault if something happens to her!"

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He turned to one of his men. "What are you staring at? Get to Hairless quick and pick up a jeep!" Like an obedient dog, the man ran off to the station. It wasn't long before he came back with an Iranian military jeep and they got into it and drove to Halabja.

Towards evening they arrived at Fatso's house and he felt relieved when he saw that the house had not been damaged. They went in and saw Naffe crying uncontrollably and beside herself. She gave him a big hug. "I almost got killed. I can't stay a second longer, they can come back at any moment, I must get out of here, my heart won't make it if this happens again." She beat her breast with her arms. "I have to get out of here," she said with quivering lips. Fatso was ashamed in front of his men since his mother showed her uncontrolled fear. "We'll leave here soon." He took out a cigarette and lit it. "Pack your things quickly. Now we'll drive to the Iranian border and you can stay there with my family until the war is over."

When Ahmad heard the news of the attack he was on his way to the Iranian border since he was supposed to take part in a meeting in Iran. He turned around immediately when he got word of the attack and drove to Halabja. He drove so fast that he was several times close to driving off the steep slopes or colliding with cars going in the other direction. He arrived towards evening and he saw then that the house had been razed to the ground. All his strength left him. He stared in front of himself as if he were paralysed before falling down and lying there in front of what had been his home. Ahmad blinked as if to keep reality out of his sight. On the streets and in the narrow alleys loud human voices could be heard as well as cars rushing by. Many fled and sought shelter in the mountains. Panic reigned and people left everything behind them. Looters moved around freely and unhindered in the unguarded houses. They had no need to rush but searched the houses calmly until they found what they wanted to have in the way of valuables and useful items.

When Ahmad opened his eyes he mumbled in a weak voice to himself: "Mother Karim Bey!" He got up with difficulty and went up to the heap of stones. Suddenly he rushed forward and began frantically to rummage through the stones and the rubble. He had

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grasped that people could be buried underneath the house. He found a shovel and began to dig. He dug for hours, far beyond the fall of night. Nobody in the vicinity paid any attention to him. He looked for Fata and Karim Bey and early in the morning he found their dead bodies. Ahmad took Fata's hand and pressed it to his lips. He laid Karim Bey's hand on his forehead and sobbed out loud like a little child. Ahmad looked up at the dark sky as if looking for a logical explanation or a sign but the empty heavens provided him with no consolation. Ahmad laid Fata and Karim Bey each in a black bag that he got from a civil defence worker further away in the neighbourhood. Then he sat with his gaze set on the bags and waited for dawn. Tears were caught in his eyes, unable to come out into the open since they were held back. Grief with its black wings would descend on his world for many years to come. Shock lay on him like a numbing layer and images of the dead persisted in circulating inside him. He thought of Fata and inside him revenge burned like a fire sending smoke up to the sky above him from where it rained down over everything he perceived. The pain had opened up old wounds and the clamour for revenge grew like a mountain inside him.

Early in the morning, the barber Baktiar walked towards Permohamad mosque to say his morning prayers. When he drew closer to Karim Bey's house he discovered that it lay in ruins. He was upset when he saw Ahmad by himself alongside the dread. "Oh God, great God!" His eyes were filled with tears that ran down his pale cheeks. He went up and embraced Ahmad. Finally he said in a sobbing voice: "I'll go get help." He turned back and got Kadir and the nearest neighbours.

At the burial grounds there was neither a mullah nor any other people. They buried Fata and Karim Bey in their bags without any religious ceremonies. They lowered them down into the same grave and when the grave was filled in Ahmad stood still and looked on as if it were all a bad dream. He chanted to himself: "You are no longer, Mother and Karim Bey. It was the evil work of destiny that destroyed you. The only thing that can provide me with a little solace is the thought of revenge. As long as I'm alive I'll take revenge on all living things, on innocent and guilty. What life do I have to live now? I curse everything. God, region and people! You have been buried in the earth but you rest in my bleeding heart. I promise you that hate will be my weapon! It grows inside me! Hate will

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be my only consolation until my revenge is accomplished. I promise, as long as I live, as long as I have weapons in my hand that I will avenge your innocent souls. Revenge and killing will be my only guide! I will kill until I am killed myself." Ahmad got up, looked at his weapon and said: "I will join the commando group!"

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Fatso was becoming increasingly bored. His mother, Naffe, was bedridden and complained all the time that she had pains in her entire body. His children screamed and squabbled and his wife complained about everything. "To be driven from your home and live on the run like this, how long will we be here?" She turned to Fatso: "And you who never comes home and when you do come home you act like this was a prison." "Shut up, you old bag," Fatso shouted. "You are never satisfied with anything! Everyone else in the refugee camp lives in a tent while you live in house and can afford everything. And still you not satisfied!" He raised his voice so that his kids fled the room. "The only thing I want to have is peace in my own home." Now their infant child woke up and began to cry. His wife rushed to pick up the baby to console it. Fatso's restlessness grew. When he was home he smoked one cigarette after another. He was always on tenterhooks and lost his temper over nothing. One evening he couldn't take it any longer and got in his military jeep and drove to Tawela.

The town of Tawela nestled in a safe place in between the mountains. Here in the border zones it was impossible to bomb without going over into Iranian territory, something that Iraq tried for the longest time to avoid. When Fatso got closer to Tawela his mood darkened even more. He was in a mood for trouble and he was looking for something to let off steam about. When he got to the party's dungeon he cursed the socialists and called them spies. "They'll get what they deserve. All of the traitors will pay the price!" Deep inside the dark corridors of Tawela's prison, Mahmod was imprisoned and his friends were fighting for their lives, unsure if their families had managed to survive or

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not during the attack. At any moment their fate could be decided and Fatso would take his revenge when he felt like it. Fatso's words were sharper than a knife. His orders and his wishes could be carried out in the prison with only a sign of the hand. With only a mien he could have his whims satisfied. Tonight Fatso could do what he liked with the prisoners, no one would be able to protest or raise a finger against him. He could trample on his victims, beat, torture, humiliate or execute them and they could only sit and wait their turn.

When Fatso came into the cell, Mahmod got up, went up to him and said: "Please, have you heard anything from my family, do you know anything about the attack on Halabja?" Fatso pushed him away and hit him so hard with his rifle butt that he fell over. Mahmod screamed: "Beat me, kill me, do what you want with me. But just let me know something about my family, whether my wife survived the bomb arracks." Fatso responded by hitting him even harder with his rifle butt. He foamed with rage. "You damned traitor," he shouted. "You damned spy! You won't find out anything! You can take your worries with you to the grave!" Mahmod got up but fell again. One of Fatso's men lifted him up and Fatso beat him till he fainted. When Mahmod fell down, Fatso turned to Behram Bey and Hama Rashid and threatened them with the rifle. He shouted and screamed and his eyes blackened. "The blood of martyrs will not be wasted! It's your fault, you damned socialists and spies. I'll show you what a socialist is, I swear on my father's grave that if you live through tonight I'll send you to the Kalakan prison where you can look God in the eye!" Fatso kicked the men who had fallen down. "You'll experience a hell you'll never forget, you damned traitors. You who have ruined the entire world!" The prison guards stood outside the cell door. They didn't understand what had got into Fatso that evening. They saw the older prisoners lying still on the floor while Fatso continued to trample on their dignity and pride. He shouted at them and kicked them before going back to the office. There he sat down in a rocking chair in front of a kerosene lamp and lit up a cigarette. He tried to calm down but couldn't. He put out his cigarette and hastened back to his prisoners whom he now beat with a leather belt until all his strength deserted him and he could leave, relaxed and exhausted.

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Seated again in the chair in front of the dim light coming from the kerosene lamp, contradictory thoughts shot through him inside and for a brief moment he felt a vague feeling of shame which he quickly suppressed again. "Those bastards have only themselves to blame! Why do they slander the Peshmergas and the revolution? It was their fault that I beat them to a pulp, they're asking for it, they could learn to keep their mouth shut like everyone else! Who are those damned parasites? They deserve to be treated like this. If I hadn't imprisoned them someone else would have. If I hadn't hit them then someone else would have done it. It's my duty to crush them. If I let them go they'll be seized again by someone else. This damn rat's hole has never been without any prisoners." Fatso felt powerful and satisfied. "No one will question what I did."

After collapsing from pain, Mahmod and Behram Bey lay on the floor. Their bodies were covered with open wounds, black-and-blue marks and blood. Hama Rashid tore up his shirt and bound up his wounds before moving over to the others. "Mahmod! Mahmod! Behram Bey!" There was a weak rattling noise which Hama did not understand from the older of the two men. Hama Rashid was young and well-built and normally of robust character, he could take a lot more than the old pensioners who shared his cell with him. Hama forgot his own pains when he looked at them. He took a deep sigh and thought: "What a demon! How can a reasonable human being turn into such a madman and assault old people like that? Look at Mahmod, lying here bathed in his own blood. He couldn't even hurt a flea. Who knows, maybe they won't get out of here alive. They are old and may not make it, they'll go to their grave without even knowing what happened to their family, whether or not they survived the bomb attacks." Hama Rashid promised himself: "I swear to God, if only I survive for this once, I'll cut up that bastard Fatso's body into a thousand pieces and throw them to hungry dogs!"

The following morning Fatso woke up, looked at the clock and stretched. Then he put out the kerosene lamp that had been burning the whole night. He shouted to wake up the guards: "We have a job to do, you lazy bastards!"

When Hairless met with the Peshmerga leader, he heard that the leader was unhappy about the seizure of Mahmod and the other suspected socialists. He ordered them to be

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released. Hairless's eyes lit up when he left the leader and was on his way to the prison, thinking to himself: "He got what he was asking for, the damned socialist." At the same time he thought of about Fatso. "That bastard can go too far if I don't clip his wings!" He repeated said to himself: "Your days are numbered! I'll kill two birds with one stone, that fat snake will be stopped before he gets too big." He hurried towards the prison. Fatso came rushing up to him, wishing to welcome him but Hairless looked angry. He shouted and pushed him aside and then lunged at him. "You bastard, what have you done with Mahmod?" Fatso didn't understand what he was talking about. Kicks and slaps rained down over him. Hairless shouted so loud that he could be heard outside of the prison: "Who gave you the order to arrest socialists? Have you opened up your own prison, maybe? Read this telegram from the leader and release them immediately!" Hairless rushed to the prison cell and gave the order to open it up. He went up to Mahmod and told him in a rough voice: "I learned today that this idiot acted without my knowledge but I'll show him, he'll be disarmed and transferred!" Hairless called for a medic when he saw what condition the old men were in. The medic came on the rush and carefully bandaged up the men's wounds. Mahmod was quite overwhelmed by all the flip-flopping and didn't understand what was going on. Hairless explained: "Fatso will pay for what he did, I'll see to it that he gets punished." Mahmod's gaze was riveted on Hairless's tense expression and said in a firm voice: "Leave Fatso as he is, I'll teach him a lesson myself! Just tell me how my family is, do you know anything about my Halima and my son Raza?" "They survived, none of them were hurt, thank God!" Mahmod's eyes lit up and he forgot his pains and shook hands with Hairless who ordered a jeep to drive Mahmod and the others home.

Hairless went to Fatso who was upset like a little child. He patted him on the shoulders and said: "Those bastards got a lesson they'll never forget but whatever the case with these things you have to ask me first. You were an idiot to go after Mahmod who has several

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Peshmergas in his family. Kadir is a powerful man and has a great future with us and Raza is also a Peshmerga. They'll tear you to bits if they find out what you've done. You have to get out of here, at least for awhile until we find some sort of a solution. I'm sending you to be commander of the prison at Kalakan!" He grinned: "You can do what you want with the prisoners! Take this letter and beat it!" Fatso was livid with contained rage and without saying anything he disappeared from Tawela.

Towards afternoon the medical staff helped Mahmod and the others out into the car that was to take them home. Before they got going, Hairless rushed out and said: "Stop!" Mahmod felt uneasy and his heart pounded. What was going to happen now? He couldn't trust Hairless however friendly he might seem to be. "Before you leave here, I just want to say one thing. What Fatso did to you is unforgivable but he regrets it and is ashamed of himself. I want you to give me your word that you won't take revenge on Fatso, he's young and inexperienced!" Mahmod sighed. "I forgive the brat, I'll give you my word if that's what you want." Mahmod's body ached all over where he sat in the car but, nonetheless, he had an indescribable feeling of relief that Halima and Raza were alright. He was on his way home, something he could not have hoped for as late as a few hours ago. When they got to the village, the kids were the first to come out to meet him. They ran after the car. Halima rushed out and Mahmod's eyes lit up with joy when he was reunited with her. "What happened to you?" she said, upset, when she saw his bandages. We thought you were in Suleimaniya. Mahmod looked up at the house. "That's a long story."

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A few days later the sun was high in the sky and the wind was blowing so faintly that it hardly sufficed to get the leaves that had just blossomed out to move. The birds were busy with their activities and flew back and forth but in Halabja a crushing silence reigned. Ruins, stones, bricks, power lines and fallen trees lay everywhere. There was no life on the streets and no shouting was heard, no loud noises and no swearing. Here and

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there adults and children could be seen sifting through the ruins. They looked as white as ghosts as if they had been bathing in the sea of death.

Shama was on her way to visit Halima, she was sad and upset over having lost her home at the same time that she was tired of fleeing and hiding in nearby villages. Halima rushed out to her and the two women wept. "God, what a life, we've lost our house!" Shama sobbed. "What is God trying to show us? What is the sense of his work? Is He trying to punish the innocent among us?" Halima consoled her. "Thank God that you and your children are alive, property comes and goes, thank your God, woman, you people are unhurt!" She went to the kitchen and served them tea. "Thank God, woman," Halima continued. "Just in your neighbourhood alone, many were killed. Think of the Widow who was alive only a few days ago and look what happened to Fata and Karim Bey! It took a whole night to dig them up" "I know," said Shama, "but it's still so hard, why is it that precisely we have such bad luck? The bomb hit my house, but not Komri's. God only punishes the poor, never the rich!" She fell silent and looked at the table, ashamed. "We have no choice, we can only wait for God's blessing. Tell me, Halima, where is Mahmod, how is he?" "He's recovering very fast and is out taking part in debates about politics!" Halima sighed. "The world is on the way to demise when people like Fatso get power, how could he dare go after Mahmod?" "The world will be filled up with such people if God doesn't come to our assistance." "Raza and Kadir have promised to avenge Mahmod, but Mahmod says he gave Hairless his word and swore on the Koran that he would disown them if they take revenge against his wishes."

Raza came in together with Kadir and when they saw Shama they went up to her and welcomed her amiably. Shama was relieved when she saw Kadir. "I looked all over for you!" Kadir was taken aback. "Tel me if there's something I can do for you." Shama wept for a long time and Halima consoled her.

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"Take it easy, my sister, take it easy!" "As you know," Shama said to Kadir, raising her head with eyes full of tears, "we have nowhere to live and we thought of moving into your house." Kadir responded without even thinking about it. "It's your home, aunt Shama, you can move in whenever you want!" Shama could not believe her ears, she got up and hugged Kadir. "God bless you, God preserve you! I have to go back to my kids who have been left with Assim." "Stay and eat lunch with us," Halima invited her. But Shama declined and rushed off.

After lunch Kadir went out with Raza towards the centre of town. Thoughts of all kinds went round in their heads and they didn't know what they really should do, they just strolled around. They wandered together throughout the entire area that had been hit and stopped at every ruin and stared at the houses and the stores that lay razed to the ground. A wave of nausea went through them. Every time they saw dried blood on the ground the took a deep sigh. They were full of contradictory feelings and wished they could turn back the clock and that they had magical powers of restoring life to the dead. The town was full of dogs and cats eating their way through all of the rubble and the supplies of food that had spilled out. Suddenly, without any warning, two jet fighters appeared splitting the town's blue sky in two. Kadir and Raza ran in panic and sought shelter on the ground behind a wall. They waited impatiently. "The heathens will drop their bombs at any moment!" thought Kadir and wondered what it is like to be hit. The planes flew around the city several times and then flew off without having fired any shots or dropped any bombs. Kadir and Raza stayed down on the ground for awhile after the planes had disappeared. Raza got up slowly, dusted the sand off his clothes and raised his head to the sky as if he wanted to complain or seek an intelligible explanation. He said sadly: ""We have to get out of here, I don't want to stay a moment longer, come with me to the village, I can't take this anymore!" Kadir was stiff from fright. He patted Raza on the back and the two of them walked slowly on.

Like drowning people clinging to life-buoys, people sought causes or explanations to cling to. Desperate voices were heard wherever one went.

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"What should we do, we have no choice. What should we do in this spook-like town cut off from the whole world. What is the meaning of all of this? Should we go back up into the mountains or should we stay here and wait for a new bombing raid? Should we place our weapons on our shoulders and join the Peshmergas? Should we give up and turn ourselves in to the regime? Do we have any choice at all?" Baktiar the barber sat on the pavement. He took out his cigarette case and lit a cigarette. His thoughts went in circles with the rings of smoke. "If it isn't God, then maybe it's fate or a coincidence that decides who is to live and who must give up his life. Why me exactly and not Karim Bey? Why was Fatih Green Eyes standing exactly where he was when he was hit. If he had not run so fast, maybe he would not have been wounded! And if school had not been closed or if Fatih's family had not been so poor then he would not have had to work for Osman the tailor. If the Widow had left town then she would now be alive. Tell me, my God, who is it that decides on life and death?" He got up and walked slowly, staring at the ruins and when he suddenly saw dried blood on the street be began to talk to himself: "Whose blood is that? Is it from an animal or a human, injured or already buried?" He looked at the blood for an instant and then mumbled to himself: "Not even the flies want to have it!" He raised his head to the heavens. "Why all the killing, for what purpose? If they hadn't bought jet fighters, if they hadn't been allowed to buy jet fighters from abroad. If it had not been for the war many lives would have been spared!" He turned around to go home. "Think of yourself," he said in any attempt to make some sense out of everything. "Be glad that you have survived, that you and your family are not among those buried yesterday."

Time passed and Kadir and Raza were closer to home. Kadir looked at his watch. "It's late, I haven't eaten in a long time. There's plenty of food to choose from all that is lying in freezers and thawing out. It's best to take the opportunity before it gets destroyed. A wave of hunger pangs overtook them. Kadir opened the door and went in. Mattresses, bedclothes and dirty linen lay spread throughout the whole house. The kitchen was full of pots and plates that had not been washed up. Kadir picked up a thawed out package of chicken and rice from the freezer. He heated the food on the gas range and

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they ate it directly out of the pan. They went into the living room and lay down on the mattresses and fell asleep very soundly. Kadir saw the city in front of him in his dream:

The city looked like the most beautiful bride among the mountains and valleys. There were plenty of people on the streets. An ocean of flowers in magnificent colours had invaded the town. People had never been happier. They embraced each other, shook hands, sang and danced with each other. It was a beautiful sunny day and there was not a trace of clouds in the sky. Big white birds twittered and flew up and down. The toh trees had grown incredibly tall and a mild wind danced gently over their green leaves that suddenly rattled as if they had been made of metal. The rattling noise of the leaves got louder and louder and an ominous mood suddenly overtook Kadir. The Widow, Karim Bey, Fata and many others rode black horses through town. Their faces were completely expressionless. Behind them a great cloud of dust blew up. Kadir was standing behind a wall without anyone seeing him. In his hand he had an apple that suddenly looked old and dried out when he tried to eat it.

Kadir and Raza woke up when Shama and the kids arrived late in the afternoon. Kadir carried a strange feeling over from his dream. "My God," Shama said, "It looks like a pigsty!" Kadir lowered his head and said nothing. He went to the bathroom to clean off all the dried dirt from his face and his hands. He took off his clothes and threw them down and put on fresh clean clothes. He enjoyed hearing Shama's voice fill the house with life and motion. Shama went around like a madwoman and cleaned up the house in order to make it fit to live in. "There's a lot of food in the freezer," Kadir said, sitting down to clean his rifle. "Do what you want with it! I'm going to the village with Raza tonight.

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Shama and her three children had now moved into Kadir's house three weeks before and had been living there ever since. The best thing about Shama's moving in was that Kadir's house was not empty when thieves roamed about looking for other people's property to steal. The house was in constant motion and violent squabbling between the kids was part of everyday life. Shama was very often grumpy and hit her kids more often than she had previously done. She was in addition angry and disappointed over her husband who chose to work in Baghdad rather than be there with her. Time passed and Shama assumed more

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and more responsibility in the house until ultimately she was in charge of it all and Kadir had very little to say. The few times he came home he got almost no peace. Shama's kids could not sit still for a single second. They ran in and out and fought and teased each other the whole time. Kadir was often forced to mediate. The house was always filled with life, screaming and crying mixed up with Shama's raucous voice: "Knock it off! Stop! How many times have I told you to leave it alone!" Kadir got used to hearing Shama's shouting. In addition, she had a habit of beating her chest hard with her hands and in that way attracting even more attention. "May God take you, Toana, you horrible kid! May God cut your heart up into a hundred pieces. I will poke your eyes out of your head!" Kadir laughed at her to himself but didn't dare show it openly for her, but instead said: "What are you complaining for, God gave you very nice children. Children squabble and then make up again. It doesn't mean anything, they're just kids. Why are you so angry with them? Kids spread joy throughout the house. I like them as if they were my own brothers and sisters." Shama shook her head and said: "You don't know everything, I have brought up five like Toana all on my own. God only knows how these cubs have run me ragged inside!

Long before the dawn came, morning prayers were heard from the loudspeaker at the mosque. The mosque lay only a stone's throw from Kadir's house and he was awakened by the loud monotonous sound: "Wake up, all good Muslims, it is time for morning prayers!" Kadir stayed in bed and struggled to drop off again but it wasn't long before he was awakened again by a violent argument and loud screams. He tried to press the pillow to his ears and turned and tossed in bed. At the breakfast table Toana pulled on his sister's long pigtails so hard that she screamed enough to make the earth shake. Toana ran up the stairs and his sister ran after him. Shama ran after them both, shouting: "Don't wake Kadir up, for God's sake!" The sister pushed Toana and hit him hard and when she finally got up and left him she was hit by a heavy toy in the head and burst out crying. Shama went mad and screamed, twisting the two kids' ears so hard that they thought she would tear them off. "Hey, hey, that hurts, please stop it, mama, it hurts!" they shouted. Kadir could no longer manage to stay in bed, getting up and looking all around him with his teeth pressed together.

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"First the mosque's morning prayers and now all this bawling and shouting, constant fighting between them, I'll have had it soon! I have to get out of here, this is no longer my house but theirs. What a mess I've got myself in! I swear I'll never marry and have children in such misery, what a hell they live in!" He wished at that moment that he could throw them out but he couldn't very well do so when he thought of the children. Kadir ran down to the kitchen and freed Toana from Shama's grasp. Toana was all red in the face and cried uncontrollably. "Help me, she'll kill me!" Shama sat down on a chair without saying a word, but suddenly she raised her voice: "I can't stand them any longer. I'm only a human being. Who wants to beat his own kids but I have no choice. God only knows that I've told them to take it easy, 'Kadir's sleeping!' I said, 'Let him sleep!'" She looked down at the floor. "As soon as I turn my back for a second then they start! They're good at squabbling but not at listening to me." Kadir thought the whole situation was depressing. Toana was sitting on his knees and mumbling: "It wasn't my fault, I'm innocent!" Kadir gave him a coin and he darted up. As he went out, Shama shouted: "You brat, buy yourself a poisoned caramel!" Toana ran out without paying any attention to his mother's threats. "I swear I'll give Toana a licking he'll never forget, it's his fault, all this fighting at all times of the day." Kadir interrupted her, pleading: "Leave him alone for my sake, just this once." Kadir liked Toana who in some ways reminded him of his younger brother when he was a child. "No," she said firmly, "I have to bring him up, he won't obey me, the little bastard!" She beat her chest: "Ayaroh! Here I am, sitting and just talking, I should be making breakfast." Shama went to the kitchen.

After breakfast Kadir wandered around as if he were looking for something that he couldn't remember and then he went up to his room and out on to the balcony. "Now I remember what I was looking for."

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He got a pack of cigarettes and pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He got lost in his thoughts. Kadir began to realise that he had landed in a dilemma: He had lost the spark that he had had in Baghdad, he hated what he was doing and he was tired of all the political meetings and debates that he took part in but he went there and did not dare to open up for anyone. He regretted the day when he joined the Peshmergas, that he was involved in the war and that he acted as political advisor when certain decisions were made. The bloodshed and killing had scared him and he was no longer the same person. He increasingly drew back into himself and felt forced to participate in what was going on. Contradictory thoughts came to his mind. "What am I doing?" he complained to himself. "If I had only a little brains I would have moved thousands of miles away from this damned area, but now it's too late, I should have realised that earlier. I have thought and thought but I never find any answer. What is so unusual about this damned country, about any country, about peoples and languages and nationalities? Why can't they live with each other?" He looked up in the air and, although he wasn't religious, God's name popped up in his thoughts. "Oh, God, if you have created everyone, then one has to be born somewhere, one doesn't drop out of the sky, one has to have a language, one has to look the way one does, white or black, handsome or ugly. Why should people fight about that? Why should one give one's life for that? Is it my duty to defend insanities? To defend the people, the faith and the fatherland? Or is it my duty to defend my life?" He sighed deeply. "Kan you give me an answer, God? What do the people gain if the Peshmergas on their wanderings climb up and down the mountains a thousand or a million times? How do the people benefit from the thousands that have died to defend some Kurdish mountain summits? What we're living is not even life!" He took a deep sigh and continued: "It is not as I dreamed, I regret everything, and I regret that I exist. What kind of a life is this, to see people die every day, to see senselessness govern everything? This will slowly be my death if Saddam doesn't get there first! I have to show that I am doing something!" For the first time it dawned on him that he should take part in the fighting, to volunteer for the front. "Anything else is better than all this waiting," he complained to himself. "To take part in the war is like being invited to die!" Time passed and doubts took hold of him. He got up and remained standing for a while. He stared at the broken glass on the ground outside and then he went back to his

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room. He was overwhelmed by his thoughts again without being able to dispel them, now all the stronger. Kadir rocked in his chair and the bloody events and undigested problems started to ferment inside him.

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Behind Seye Amodaka, the meeting place for the neighbourhood's kids and teenagers, lay portly Osman's sweets shop. Osman was in his forties, his little light eyes gleamed like pearls in his fine little face. He always wore a cap and a shawl wound around his head and he was dressed in a jacket and Kurdish sharwal trousers and brown sandals. Many people called him the "friend of the little brats." The kids thought that he was nice and friendly to everyone and they saw that he was always in a good mood. In case of arguments and conflicts or bullying he would intervene and prevent them from hitting each other. The kids knew where they got the most for their money and every day throughout the year they gathered around his store and snacked without paying for it.

This Friday morning Osman was sitting lonely and abandoned. He was not the type to complain about his life but now his thoughts involved his store's ability to survive. "I've sold all that can be sold and even kids from other neighbourhoods shopped at my store. Now I sit here with empty hands again," he said to himself. "How could I have been so nave? What have I made of all these years? How can I earn money if I was so stupid and didn't care about m profits? How can I become rich when I sell everything so cheap or let the little jokers eat their fill without paying? What can I do now about the time I've lost, everything has been my fault and not the kids'" Osman glanced left and right as if someone were listening to him. He stayed silent a moment and felt anxious about complaining about the kids. "The war is responsible for everything, now war has destroyed everything again, it divides people, comes between lovers, between a mother and her kids! What good does it do now if I'm rich or poor? I did the right thing when I didn't stop the nice, noisy, lively and cunning little boys that put more in their mouths than they actually paid for! I live for today as I've always done, I only live once and children are my source of livelihood. Why shouldn't I be generous and kind-hearted to them? The Great One in the heavens will come to our aid. He is everywhere and He is in my heart, therefore I shouldn't worry, I place my fate in His hands!"

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Osman dusted off the sweets counter and laid thin transparent plastic over it while his thoughts turned to the past. A profound sad feeling slowly ate into him when he remembered the kids that were killed by the war, a feeling that was unusual since he was generally optimistic. He sat there on the verge of crying when he thought that Blue Eye was killed by artillery. Grief cut like a knife into his heart and tears welled up in his eyes. He mumbled to himself: "They don't have any easy time of it either, the kids, oh God, I mourned for Blue Eye as if he were my own." "His place is in paradise!" Suddenly his thoughts returned to everyday things. He reasoned to himself and became increasingly worried that his business was not doing well since after the bombing there were few kids left in town to shop at his store. He was terrified by thoughts of the future. He went on thinking: "Where have the peaceful times gone? What will happen to me and my family? Will we be killed like those they buried after the attack? Should I flee and, if so, where to? How can I leave this town, I don't think I could manage to live outside of it. If God takes me then he will do so with or without my cooperation. What do I have to be afraid of? We have food and no one is starving, and that is what counts!" His positive side got the upper hand. "Where are my brats," he said and smiled when he thought of how the kids tried to fool him. Just then Little Brother's face came to mind. He remembered how Little Brother would quickly and enthusiastically stoke in a few pieces of juicy fresh fruit, he would eat at least ten fresh figs and when Osman asked him, "How many have you eaten, my little friend?" he would always respond as he was wont to do. "I swear to God and the saints that it was only two pieces and with the one in my hand that makes three." Osman silently laughed to himself when he thought of why others became richer and richer while he became all the poorer. "How could I have become rich when I have hundreds of customers like Little Brother?" He shook his head. "To hell with all the world's riches? What does money mean when we all face the same fate?"

A fresh wind danced gently through Toana's long curly hair as he ran towards Osman's store. Toana's pretty eyes sparkled with joy. He felt the coin he was holding in his hand

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over and over again. He ran on and his thoughts swirled like feathers around portly Osman and his sweets shop. Osman's eyes beamed with joy when he saw little Toana come running and said out loud to himself: "Welcome, my little Toana! Welcome, my son!" Toana was sweating over his entire body and when he got there he caught sight of the delicious red caramels. "What would you like? Would you like some red caramels?" "Yes, yes," said Toana and handed over his coin. Osman took the coin, kissed it and put it in his pocket. "Thank God! My first customer today, how is your mother?" Toana didn't care about what Osman asked. The only thing he was interested in were the delicious red caramels. He got a little bag with sweets and ran home. Osman followed him with his eyes until he was out of sight, then he lifted his head to the skies and looked at the sun shining. He suddenly realised that he had not said his afternoon prayers. He looked at his watch and thought to himself: "No hurry I have lots of time!" Toana ran home and when the other kids saw that he had a bag of caramels they came running up to him and tried to take it from him. Toana started to bawl loudly and Shama came to his rescue. She gave the biggest kid a slap and twisted the ear of another one. She shouted at the others: "Let Toana alone, you brats!" The kids wept and stamped their feet on the ground. They threw little stones around them and shouted that they too wanted some money to go buy sweets. Their mothers were ultimately forced to give the kids some coins. They then ran off to Osman's store and their shouts of joy were heard throughout the whole neighbourhood.

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Shirin's family had fled in time, going at first to Tawela near the Iranian border. After a while they were forced to join the thousands of refugees that lived in the Saryas camp on the Iranian side of the border. The camp consisted of thousands of tents spread out around the hills at the foot of the mighty Saho mountains. The weather was very cold. Spring was always late in coming in these parts. In some places snow remain on the ground for a long time, especially on the mountain tops. Shirin's family had been fortunate, they were able to live in a large white tent on a fairly high hill that was protected from flooding. The family had begun to adapt to their new conditions. They had to fetch water from a spring and carry it up together with other

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necessities to the tent. In all the misery they lived in there were certain bright spots. At least they could sleep safe and secure at night. No more bombing or shooting was heard here.

Shirin had all the time in the world to think about Raza. She was worried about their uncertain future and asked herself how long they would be living there and when they would return home. How long could you be away from your lover? How long would they have to live as beggars without pride and in constant humiliation? How long would they have to live off the food and necessities they got in the camp? How many children and, especially, how many infants would be buried in foreign soil? Shirin was full of worries.

For the first time in a long time her eyes radiated a little bit of joy when Halima and Mahmod came to visit to try to get her parents' consent for the wedding. Nadir, Shirin's father, was hesitant. "How can one marry in times like these?" He was afraid that something would happen to Shirin, he felt it was risky living in the village as long as the war went on. "We didn't find our daughter on the street," Shirin's mother said. "She is my darling and all I have in life." "We have grown up with war but that never prevented Kurds like us from getting married, we've been doing it as long as people can remember," Mahmod answered. "You should know that we live safely and, furthermore, who'd be interested in an obscure backwater like our village? If they come, they'll bomb Halabja instead. It's safe where we live. Don't worry about that matter!" "I don't know what to say," Nadir said, "It's so difficult!" Halima came up with a contribution to the discussion. "I've spoken with Shirin, she's in agreement with this and I hope you don't have anything against the idea." Nadir was a God-fearing man who kept his word and he liked Raza very much. He turned to Halima and said: "Yes, let's say so, if that is what my daughter wants!" Halima's entire face gleamed when she said: "God be with you, Nadir, God be with your family!" The men left the tent and the women discussed the practical issues.

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At home in the village, Raza was obsessed with all his intoxicating thoughts revolving around Shirin and he was worried that his parents would come home without any good news. He hated the war that had brought obstacles to their happiness. Time passed and sinister thoughts went through his head and he sat tensely with his gaze fixed on the road so he could see them when they came. When they finally came back, Raza lost all the colouring in his face and asked in desperation: "How did it go, did they give their permission, yes or no?" He raised his voice without noticing it himself. "Yes, son, they've agreed to everything," said Halima happily and embraced him. In a few weeks you'll become a real man and Shirin will be yours!" Raza stiffened. He didn't know if it was a dream or reality and he was so shocked that he just stared straight in front of himself. "Aren't you happy, son? They've agreed to the marriage," said Halima, "in a few weeks she'll be yours!" Raza lit up with his whole face and was so excited that his heart felt like his chest could hardly contain it.

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Time had passed and Omar's family was still there in the cave without considering fleeing to Iran. They had been lucky and managed to avoid the diseases that lost the lies of so many other refugees. They did the best they could in the cave. It was a very uncomfortable existence, fetching water, preparing food and collecting firewood were part of their everyday worries. But none of them got killed and they thanked God for that. Nadia had recovered and she felt happier and safer compared with how terrified and anxious she had been just after the bombing raid. With the passage of time she became more accessible to herself and her children. She started to think about other things and realised that hiding from death was no real solution. "If God wants to take my life, then He will do so, regardless of where I am!" In the evenings when Omar and Nadia were alone they had time to think back to what had happened and to think of those who had lost their life. They often spoke of Karim Bey and Fata and they even mourned for the Widow. With every prayer Nadia wept and asked God to forgive their sins and grant them a place in paradise.

In the daytime, the daughters Hanna and Delba helped out, but not very willingly and arguments were constantly going on between them. Hanna was temperamental and lost her self-control when she felt that she had been treated unjustly, she flew into a rage and

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pounded her feet on the ground and accused her mother of discriminating among her children. "I'm the only one who fetches water and firewood," she wept, "while Delba does nothing, she just plays and thinks she's a princess!" "You lie up to your ears," Delba replied. Their parents had to act as mediators and they often lost their balance and swotted the one of them or twisted the ears of the other one.

When dusk fell, Hanna and Delba used to lie in their places and little Tara would lie on Nadia's lap while Omar told fairy tales until they fell asleep. Late at night the two parents would sit in front of a kerosene lamp and Omar sat on his knees at the radio and for hours was busy trying to hear the news. He always looked pensive and could never stop thinking about what could happen to the family in the next few months. "Do you know how much time has passed since we left home?" said Nadia one evening. "No," Omar replied a little absently. "It's been exactly five weeks if I include tomorrow!" "Really," said Omar and continued to turn the knobs of the radio, something that annoyed her. "I'm talking to you and you're not even listening to what I have to say, what a fate!" she started to cry. "To live like wild animals even though I have everything I want at home." "You were the one who wanted to flee, not me," Omar interrupted her, "and now that we're here you complain about everything. I wasn't the one to decide on war, what should I do, where should I turn?" "Don't you understand that I'm homesick," Nadia sobbed. "How could I have known that it's so difficult to live like this, I thought we would hide for a few days and then go home again but we're stuck here. Excuse me for being concerned about my family, I'm afraid that something will happen to us!" "Don't cry," Omar consoled her. "Everyone doesn't die all at the same time, only some do. Why should we think that we will be among them? Don't be afraid. We too have our shelter or 'God has created moss even for the baro fruit,' as the proverb goes. Don't worry, there'll be peace soon and we will return home. We have to hold out for now!" "We live here like wild animals," she sighed. "May God take you, Saddam, why don't you give us our rights, why, why? Tell me, Omar? What kind of a life is this?" she said angrily. "Do I lie if I say 'What kind of a life?' It is only misery on top of misery.

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Let's go home, I think the bomb raid on Halabja was a one-off event, they just wanted to teach us a lesson and it won't be repeated." "You never learn anything, you just complain about everything and are dissatisfied with everything, I hear the same thing every night," said Omar grumpily. "It sounds as if it's all a matter of you and your needs that decides everything, I want to be left alone!" He sounded very irritated and added: "Now be quiet! I have to listen to the news!" Nadia sat silently by and Omar listened very seriously to Baghdad's frequency that reported on the war. Nadia, who couldn't understand Arabic, became curious and asked: "What did they say, what did they say?" "Stop, woman, I'm missing everything!" The Baghdad channel was reading out new victories and one spoke of hundreds of dead Peshmergas spread out in the fields. The last news was that the regime was granting amnesty to all armed Peshmergas with the exception of their leadership. Omar shook his head and said: "This is the fourth time the regime has granted amnesty!" "Really," she said in desperation, "But I heard a few words on the number of dead, I don't know Arabic but I did hear the word for dead." "Who should we believe? If what they're reporting is true then soon half the population is dead, they're exaggerating as usual," he said. "Neither side will come out victorious that easily. The Peshmergas are well equipped like the regime is." "But what did they say?" "Be quiet, woman!" Omar raised his voice. "They say that they have killed thousands of Peshmergas and will shortly exterminate the rest." "Don't be angry now again," Nadia pressed him, "Try to find the Peshmerga radio frequency, we'll see what they have to say." Omar was tired of so much searching for radio stations. He hardly heard what the reporter was saying, the regime had now started jamming the transmissions and it was only with the utmost effort that Omar heard Ahmad's name and that he had beaten off the Iraqi army. Nadia was upset. "What did they say? What did they say? I heard Ahmad's name mentioned, is he alive or has he been murdered, the poor man." Omar was irritated over being disturbed once again.

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"Your mouth is busy all the time," he shouted. "Stop, damn it, you have your own ears! You can understand Kurdish as well as I can!" The jamming got worse so that they could almost not hear anything and Omar lost his temper and turned the radio off. "It will be difficult this time," he sighed, "I wonder why they can't reach an agreement. Do they know what we're going through?" Nadia turned pale and said: "I heard them talking about Ahmad. What is going on with him, is he wounded or dead?" "No, woman," Omar hissed. I only heard his name and the fact that he had beaten back the army. And that they killed many soldiers."

Everyone was lying asleep in the cave when Tara suddenly began to cry so loud that her mother took fright. Omar lighted the kerosene lamp and asked in a sleep voice: "What has happened to the girl, has she been bitten or something?" "Oh God, she has a fever," said Nadia desperately. "We have to find a doctor, she's boiling hot, she'll die if we don't get medicine." She beat her chest and wept so desperately that she woke up the other children. Omar could not think straight. He thought that he was losing his children. He picked up the girl and quickly roused the other children. "She has to be taken care of, otherwise this can get dangerous!" Omar panicked when he picked up his baby and he lamented: "Where am I to find a doctor in these damned mountains, I have to get to the village, there's a nurse there." "This is my fault," Nadia burst out and beat her chest, "If she dies it's my fault that we left town. We have to get out of here. If we don't perish of diseases we can be bitten by snakes and spiders. We survived the bombing but if we stay here, we risk dying of diseases." "Yes, we will go home, but first we have to find a doctor, or my little daughter will die!"

Omar hurried through the night. He got to the nurse but no one was home there. Crushed, he returned to the cave. "We have to get to Halima," Nadia said, feeling the girl's forehead. Little Tara was numbed from fever and looked lifeless. "It's only a half-hour drive there by car."

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They made their way to the village where they had parked their car. They got in the car which started immediately and Omar drove towards Halabja.

Omar knocked on the door as hard as he could. Halima was awake and was just getting ready to say her morning prayers. She could hardly believe her eyes when she saw Omar and his family and, delighted, she greeted them: "Come in, how nice it is to see you! It's been some time." Omar and Nadia were so frightened that they hardly heard what Halima said. "We have to get to a doctor, my little Tara is dying, she has no strength left, she has such a high temperature! She has had diarrhoea for two days." Halima took Tara from them and calmed them down. "This is not the whole world. There is no doctor in town. Leave it to me!" Halima quickly heated up some fresh water which she mixed with juice form a dried plant and put several drops of this mixture on a spoon for Tara. Nadia put her to her breast and then it only took a few seconds before Tara ate a little and then went off to sleep in Nadia's embrace. Halima was a calm person and had lots of experience, Nadia knew this and felt secure in her presence. Tara's fever went down again after a few hours and she quickly got better and showed definite signs of being hungry. Soon she regained the colour in her cheeks and joy could once again be seen in her eyes. Mahmod joked the whole time: "I'm married to a doctor, God preserve your hands, Halima." "Are you pulling my leg?" Halima asked, smiling. Towards evening when Tara had regained her colour and started to babble the whole time, Omar said happily: "The danger is over now, and tomorrow we'll go home." Mahmod offered to have them stay for longer but they decided that they had had enough and that they would go back to living in town.

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85

It was just before nine in the morning when Omar drove into the neighbourhood causing so much commotion. Toana ran out with the other kids to follow his car. Assim got up and, together with the other women, she walked to Omar's home. Assim's eyes gleamed and she rushed up to them. "Welcome home!" Assim kissed Nadia several times on the cheek and hugged her and sobbed out loud. The neighbouring women gathered around them. "How nice it is that you're back," said Assim, "It seemed empty without you!" Nadia cried and embraced all those around her. "We almost lost little Tara." She dried her tears. "She would surely have been dead if we had stayed another night!" "Thank God that you are back unhurt," said Assim and called out: "What are you staring at? Give them a hand and carry something!" Toana took the opportunity to sit down in the drivers seat and disturbed everyone by constantly blowing the horn. Finally, Assim could stand it no longer and pulled him by the ears and threw him out of the car. "I'll tell Shama, you little bastard!" "Let me go, that hurts," Toana pleaded. When Nadia got into the house she was surprised. It was a mess, a thick layer of dust lay on the floor and she was stunned by a strong odour coming from rotten old food." "One can't live in this," she said. "Oh hell, the way I stink," said Omar, "Dirt and sweat all over and I haven't used a toothbrush for a long time now." "You're not the only one," Nadia cut him off, "We all stink but first we have to sweep up the dust, then I'll heat water so that we can wash." "To hell with all the dust," said Omar, "What difference does it make if the house is cleaned up or not, if we have any order here or not?" "Of course it makes a difference," she said. Shama hurried across to Omar's house, rushing in and speaking in her usual loud raucous voice: "I rushed over here as soon as I heard the good news. Welcome home, dear sister! Now you've been away for a month and God only knows how I've missed you. Tell us where you've been!"

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"To put it briefly, we had a real hell of it out there in the mountains," Nadia said. "It was only five weeks but it just as miserable as if it had been five years." Shama looked at the mess and the dust. "You can tell us later, right now you need help with the cleaning, give me a broom!" she shouted. "Now, we'll do something about this. You can't take care of this by yourself, Nadia, and you can eat lunch with us when we're through cleaning up."

When the worst was over, Shama said before leaving: "Now I'm going home, but don't forget to come for lunch!" Nadia got a large pot with water and put it on the stove. "You can take a bath first, Omar," she said. "Yes, darling," Omar replied. It wasn't long before he took the pot with her to the hamam, a type of sauna, and took a long time carefully bathing and shaving. Then he got into his best clothes and went out onto the street. "God, it's wonderful to get rid of all that dirt and that disgusting beard," he said to himself. "Now I feel like a new person. I stank all over, my hair was so tangled up that you couldn't get through it and my beard itched constantly so that I had to keep tearing it."

The evening was unusually quiet, no TV, no electricity, no squabbling and shouting or tantrums from the kids, the mood was calm and quiet. Hanna had taken out her paper and colour pencils and started to draw. Delba sat next to her and looked admiringly at what her older sister was drawing. "Will you draw one for me!" "Yes, but you won't get it until next week." "I know, I'll be six years old then," said Delba happily. Hanna turned to her other and asked: "Do you know what day Delba was born? I remember it like it was yesterday, it was a Tuesday morning, wasn't it, mama?" "How am I supposed to know what day she was born," Nadia quickly answered, "As if we didn't have enough problems as it is." "I swear on the Koran," Hanna insisted, "It was a Tuesday and when I got home they told me that I had a new little sister." "You lie just like you always do, even though you say 'I swear on the Koran.'" Hanna became angry and pulled her sister's hair. She burst out crying and Nadia quickly intervened.

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Nadia said to Hanna: "You are big like a donkey but you don't help at all, take all that paper away and help me in the kitchen. Set the table! It's the least you could do!" Hanna got up reluctantly and cast a dissatisfied gaze around her. "This is unjust, I have to do so much and it seems like only Delba is your daughter, but not me."

With a gleam in her eyes, little Tara tried to make contact with Nadia, but Nadia was so busy with her work that she hardy noticed it. With a mighty yell Tara interrupted the discussion and forced her mother to rush to her. Nadia carefully picked up the girl from the cradle and put her to her breast. "Right, my little dove, you're really hungry, my little princess." She took out her breast and nursed the baby who sucked and gently held the breast. There was a knock at the door and she called out to Delba: "Go and open it!" Delba happily ran to the door. When she opened it, she was overjoyed and called out gleefully: "It's Kadir! Come in!" The kids showed their delight that a relative had come and rescued them from a dull evening. They livened up. "It's been a long time," said Nadia in a sad voice and if you really want to know, we've been through hell." She wept and shook all over. "I'm still scared when I look at my little Tara." "I know," said Kadir, "Raza told me. He visited me, just then I was busy with writing at the Peshmerga centre." Only a little while later Omar and Raza came in. "My darling!" Omar said to Nadia, "What do we have to eat tonight? I'm so hungry!" "You are always hungry and that's normally mostly what you're thinking of," Nadia muttered. After a while Nadia served chicken and rice in the kitchen and called out: "The food is ready!" The entire family rushed to sit down at the dinner table and started to eat. They were silent and within a few minutes all the food had disappeared from the table. Omar said:

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"Now I'm completely full. God preserve you, Nadia. Thank you for your hands that can cook such a good meal." "You have to excuse the fact that the meal didn't turn out as I planned," Nadia said, "But it's your own fault. If I had known that you would be coming I would have prepared even better food." "We haven't eaten food this good for a long time," said Kadir. "Believe me, I ate a little bit before I came." "Noshi geant beh," said Nadia happily, which means "May the food be my blessing.." Then she cleared off the table with some assistance from Hanna.

After dinner everyone gathered in the living room. Raza looked happier than he had ever been before, one could see the joy radiating from his eyes. He had become completely different and they all knew why since they had heard that his parents had been to visit Shirin's family at the Saryas camp and that they had decided on a date for the wedding. Most of what was on Raza's mind had to do with Shirin and everything else was of no interest to him. Hanna served tea, they began to drink in silence. After a while, Raza snuck into the children's room and picked up little Tara from her bed and Delba and Hanna sat down beside him. He began to rock her and sang a Kurdish lullaby that Tara listened to with her big black eyes gleaming like pearls. Delba asked Raza: "Are you going to sleep over tonight?" "We'll have to see, I don't know," he said, stroking Delba's hair. "Look at Raza, he's already practising being papa," Omar whispered to Kadir as they passed by the children's room. "He has got caught in the spider's web like everyone else and that's where all the worries start." Omar called to Raza: "When are you two going to get married?" "In twelve days and twelve nights," said Raza happily and lifted Tara up to the ceiling. Omar looked at the clock and called out: "Hurry up, Raza, the news will be coming on soon." Raza sat down next to Kadir, he looked happy and contented. They listened attentively to the news at ten while Nadia washed up and asked from the kitchen: "Is anything new?" "No, nothing has happened. The war simply goes on."

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"Damned murderers," Nadia shouted. "We are supposed to suffer and sacrifice our lives, this is written in our foreheads in this hell that they call a country. God, the only thing I want is to be left alone. What do they think happens when people live on the run?" "How did you live?" Kadir asked. "Don't ask, we found a cave in the mountains. What's done is done," she said, "The most important thing is that we have decided not to move again no matter what happens." Omar said in a sad voice: "Obviously I sometimes have doubts about staying. I am so upset about all this and I don't know if we're doing the right thing or the wrong thing. Think if something happens to my family, then I'll never be able to forgive myself. Staying here is better than living in refugee camps in Iran," said Omar, "or living like wild animals in the mountains. We almost lost Tara!" he said, his voice cracking. "Oh God, what have we done wrong? We want to live in peace with our families, children, relatives and friends. What do we have to do with the war? God only knows that when I walk along the ground I even think about not trampling on plants and insects. Now the world is closed for me. I don't know how we'll manage." "There is always hope," said Raza. ""Heaven's roof is not made of straw!" "Why do you believe the worst will happen? Kadir wondered, "You have a good shelter, others don't have that." "I know, but still" Omar fell silent and took a deep sigh before going on: "Nadia and I have struggled so hard to have what we have. How can we leave all this and simply disappear? I don't want my children to experience war and humiliation, to grow up in a world created with violence and killing. We want to live. We don't want to be slaves to the terror of war. Why do we have to kill each other, what good does this do?"

The evening passed and they spoke of all their experiences and of the events and they discussed current news and rumours. Everyone was busy with these discussions except for Nadia who was busy getting things in order in the kitchen and when she came into the living room she was beside herself: "Are you blind," she burst out, "You simply talk and talk, don't you even see your daughter, haven't you got the hands to take her up to bed?" Delba was sleeping peacefully and grasping her favourite doll tightly in her arms while Hanna sat next to her, drawing on paper after paper from her fantasy while little Tara slept soundly in her cradle.

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Omar got up and carefully carried Delba up to bed. When he came back with a smile on his lips he turned to his wife and said: "My darling, my sweet Nadia, my Nadia. Don't get angry over such a small thing, I didn't see it and it's not so dangerous that she lies a little longer on the mattress. Tell me, darling, have we any pomegranates left?" Nadia turned around quickly and went out into the kitchen. She had a good mind to snap back with a stinging commentary but she decided to hold off on this since they had guests. After a while she laid out the last pomegranates and everyone rushed to have some of what was their favourite fruit. When Nadia had served the fruit they sat for a long time and talked about everything possible between heaven and earth. One could tell that Kadir was so sleepy that he could hardly keep himself upright in the chair. He looked at the clock and said firmly: "I have to go home now, are you coming along, Raza?" He met up with considerable resistance and both Nadia and Omar said: "Never on my life! You can't go. Have you left your wife and children at home? You'll sleep here!" Nadia said: "I'll make the bed for you!" "As you wish, sister Nadia, I'll sleep over," Kadir replied a little bit reluctantly.

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The heat of May was on the way, the sun shone. Vegetation entered a new phase of splendour. Mosquitoes and other insects filled the air with their buzzing and made life even more difficult for the people of Halabja. Life was on its way back to normal in the neighbourhood, many families that had hid in the mountains for weeks grew tired of life on the run and returned to town. Some of them had lost their homes and now lodged with other people. Shama recovered from the bombing raids but she was subdued and the glow had gone out in her eyes. She generally look absent-minded and she was tired of Assim's nagging which aroused discomfort and fear in her and disturbed her. For the last month, Shama and her three kids were living lodged with Kadir on the ground floor. Toana and his sisters frequently had fights and they ran up and down the stairs screaming and crying. With their bad behaviour, they constantly woke Kadir up and each time Shama got annoyed and gave Toana a whack if Kadir did not get there to stop her.

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After a late breakfast, Kadir seemed a long way off and Shama patted him on the shoulders and said in a loud raucous voice: "Where are you, Kadir, what are you thinking about?" "I don't know," he said, "I had a nightmare last night." "Life has become a nightmare, my son!" Shama sighed de profundis. "There is no end to the killing as long as crazy idiots are in power!" Suddenly, she felt that she had gone too far so she tried to repair the damage. "I don't mean all of them, Kadir, I mean those that rule the country and not our Peshmerga fighters. The Peshmergas want to have peace, but not Saddam!" Kadir looked at her in silence. A woman neighbour came into the house and interrupted the discussion. She said happily: "Fatih is back, he's as healthy as the kernel of a nut, everyone should visit him, people are heading there in long queues to congratulate his papa, Waly." "Yes, we'll do that, but sit down first," said Shama and pour her a cup of tea. "Have you bought a new dress?" Shama asked in order to get their discussion off the previous subject. "No," said the woman neighbour, happily surprised. I have had this for a long time." Kadir felt ill at ease and went up to his room.

Like so many times before, Assim and Shama and the other neighbourhood women were sitting in front of their houses and Assim took the opportunity to tell them how she felt when she was trapped in the cellar. Her face lost its colour and she began to speak in an emotional voice while she moved her body back and forth gently at the same time. "God doesn't even want a heathen to experience what I went through. We just sat there close to death and thought we would be buried alive and that it would be the end of everything. But if God doesnt kill you then you won't be killed. I just sat there paralysed and didn't know anything, thinking that now my days on earth were over but God didn't want to take our lives." Assim was on the verge of tears and Shama listened to her with some irritation but for some reason she let her continue all the same. "I miss the old Widow, God forgive her and may she have an eternal place in paradise!" Shama seemed restless and started to fidget. Talk about getting killed upset her but at the same time she wanted to be generous to Assim. However, her patience came to

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an end when she had to listen to the same thing too many times. This upset her inside equilibrium. "Listen, Assim," said Shama, Now stop crying and talking about what happened in the past. Do you think you are the only one who has gone through this, that you're the only one putting up with so much misery. You are not alone, you should know that. We are all sitting in the same boat and awaiting the same fate. Now the times have changed and don't think that we will have to go through that hell a second time. Don't worry, I don't think that Saddam will send more planes to bomb us, that was just a lesson and it's over. They're not so crazy that they'll force people to flee to Iran."

Anxiety and uncertainty led families that stayed on in town to rejoice whenever someone moved back. In the neighbourhood the atmosphere was mellower between the women and they had more understanding for each other. They felt almost like one big family and they experienced a new type of togetherness in the middle of this misery. On the streets people could be seen wandering around hesitatingly, they sat in circles, talked loud and occasionally shouted at each other. They came together to harp on their disappointment and despair and outdid each other in describing the misery they had been through. Just this afternoon they seemed to be in a better mood, wishful thinking and new rumours provided hope and they turned away from reality for a short while. "Just now we are sitting at the negotiating table with the regime," a tall red-haired man said while he twisted his moustache. "Should one believe that?" asked another, a short stooped-over man, shaking his head. "I am quite sure that the killing is over. At any moment the agreement will be read out on the radio and everything will be as before." The Peshmerga supporters had their own view of the war and they saw a motive for all the killing. "We have to defend ourselves and when we do so people die. We can't hang ourselves on the tree of grief. People die and that happens in all wars. There is no just war without martyrs!" "I have learned not to climb too high on the tree of truth," said an older man. "We have nothing to say about things. The parties involved in combat don't understand how hard it is for us. Who listens to us? We don't exist. We do what we're told. We are merely the whistles that the leaders blow on." "Don't go too far, here's the borderline," said a Peshmerga supporter. "The war isn't our fault, we are forced to do something and we have to crush the snake's head before it gets too big. We still have the opportunity to do it."

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One man who had lost his brother was appalled and repeated several times: "This is all a lot of lies, they are a race of liars, they lie all the way up the walls! That everything will be like before," he sighed, "well not for my brother in any case. He's dead and buried. Will he return from the dead? What will happen to his family? Do they have food for today?" Tears ran down his cheek.

In the afternoon Omar was headed for the centre of town. Very few shops were open and one of them was that of Baktiar the barber. "Are you back in town, how nice to see you! Mahmod told me what happened. Would you like to have your hair cut, Omar?" Baktiar asked. "Let me offer you a haircut and shave." Omar sat down in the chair. Inevitably they got involved in a long discussion about the war. "What can you expect?" Omar said. "The good old times are gone, life has become more and more complicated and we are making little headway in poverty and misery. Thanks to this damned war, we are slowly losing our humanity." "Look at us and the other people living through a war," said Baktiar, "What have we done to deserve this fate? What sense does such a life make? Every day, every hour, every minute, every second another man is sent to his grave. His blood collects on the ground and soon dries out. I can't understand and I never will be able to understand it even if I live to be as old as the Shaho mountains." Baktiar stopped talking when he heard footsteps and he cautiously looked around him as if looking for nosy ears that might pick things up and report them. "What kind of insanity is this?" he continued in a calm voice. "Is it worth it, slaughtering each other, what difference does it make who's the winner and who's the loser? Even in this short period of time the war has claimed thousands of human lives. What would have happened if they had been allowed to live? What good does their death do? Who cares if millions of people like mother Fata get killed? She couldn't even write her own name."

Omar nodded in agreement and said: "How can I stand so much sorrow? What misery to be living? Fear grows like weeds inside me, I am so afraid of being shot, I have trouble sleeping and wake up at night if I hear anything, and then I feel so sick that I have trouble getting back to sleep. And that's only the beginning," Omar said. "We'll have to see what happens in two or three years. How many more will have to die?"

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Baktiar saw a Peshmerga passing by and quickly warned Omar and they changed the subject until he had disappeared out of hearing range. "Okay, green light again!" Omar went on with his lamentation: "I say what feel, if the war goes on like this then the day will come when we only mourn the living and not the dead! Who is better than the next man? Which language is better or richer than the others? Which damn national group has more pride in itself than the other one which nations are braver than others? I get sick simply thinking about this! We live in an insane part of the world where people are constantly at war with each other."

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After the burial of his mother Fata and Karim Bey, Ahmad withdrew and waited to be called to the front. The whole time he constantly received people who came to express their condolences. Finally it got to be too much for him and he told his men that he wanted to be left alone and, if anyone came, to tell them that he had gone to Iran. He became taciturn and isolated. Little more was heard of him and he was always immersed in his thoughts. And if he was disturbed then he threw a tantrum with his bodyguards. He didn't allow anyone to get closer to him and no longer opened up for anyone. He didn't show any weakness in front of others and never told anyone what he really felt and went through. In the evenings he lay for a long while on his bed, plagued by grief that consumed him and tore him apart. The thought of revenge kept a spark of life going in him and his only consolation was that he and his troops would be fighting at the front.

Akram Rash, Ahmad's assistant, hurried to him with a telegram from the Peshmerga leadership in his hand. "The day we've been waiting for has finally come!" "Really, when are we to be there?" Ahmad asked in a serious tone of voice. "As soon as possible!" "Only one more day and I'll be there, thank God, you've come to my rescue." "They're waiting for us on the other side of the mountains with military transporters, it'll only take a few days for us to arrive at the front."

Towards evening Ahmad gathered his troops that had kept themselves in readiness for about two months. The news was a shock for most of them, even thought they had been waiting for the order to go. In some way or other many of them had still isolated

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themselves from the thought of what was on the way. Everyone knew what was involved, that a hell awaited them at the front. Silence among the Peshmerga soldiers revealed that most of them were afraid but that they concealed it in front of each other so as not to lose face. At the same time, there were a few of them that were uncontrollably chatty for the same reason. They all thought of their families and felt very worried for their safety, whatever the outcome of the fighting.

After a half-hour's hike they got to Iranian Kurdistan where Iranian military vehicles waited to take them to the front. Before getting on the lorry, Akram loudly said: "What a luxury to be driven there instead of climbing up and down along the mountain paths for days and nights with all the risks of ambushes and other misery." "Yes, we're saving both time and safety!" It only took a short while for the Peshmerga soldiers to get into the military vehicles and wait to leave. Ahmad sat in the front in a jeep, he gave a sign and the convoy of military lorries started off. The driver, an older grey-haired man, was curious and inquisitive. Ahmad was cagey but the driver continued his questioning until Ahmad finally lost his temper. "Stop asking, for God's sake, you certainly know where we're going, we're going to the front." The driver felt hurt by Ahmad's snub and he then remained silent throughout the trip. Ahmad noted this and felt some remorse, he turned again to the old man and broke his silence: "Forgive me for being rude to you, but the last few days I haven't been in the best mood, I hope you'll excuse me." "That doesn't matter, my son" said the driver, who nonetheless remained silent for the rest of the trip. It was well into night when they arrived at a village on the border. The driver said tersely: "Our assignment is completed here, God be with you! After a day's hike you'll be where you're headed for." Everyone got out of the lorries and after a short rest then crossed the border into Iraqi Kurdistan on their way to the front.

From the very first day Ahmad was one of the leaders of the commando groups and he had not a second free to think of anything else. For days and nights in a row machine guns and thousands of artillery guns thundered incessantly. None of the combatants achieved any ultimate victory at the front and every day new fighting broke out.

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Peshmergas armed with the latest types of weapons sat on guard in their positions. It was more difficult for the Iraqi soldiers who were unfamiliar with the area. They were easy targets for Peshmergas when they tried to attack through the inaccessible mountain zones that stretched out as far as the eye could see. The Peshmergas often waited in their secure positions and killed the attacking soldiers. The air force was without assistance and had difficulty hitting its targets, they were highly aware that they could be shot down with the Peshmergas' new weapons. The few Peshmergas who were killed died when they got in the way of artillery fire that hit them by accident. Every morning the Iraqi army attacked and in the evening they were forced to withdraw again.

Even early in the morning, Ahmad and his troops retaliated and forced the army to retreat. In their wake they left dead bodies, damaged tanks and large amounts of arms and ammunition. Many of them were never buried but became the victims of scavenger animals and birds. In these highly inaccessible mountain areas the army had always been at a disadvantage. It had difficulty in gaining ground. Ahmad was close to death several times but he had luck on his side, the fire from machine guns and artillery rained down on him killing other Peshmergas but not him. He was not even wounded. He killed so many soldiers in battle that he himself lost count. On the other hand he never killed anyone who was captured. He helped those that were wounded and saw to it that they were treated. It wasn't long before Colonel Ahmad became the leader of the commando centre. He was completely absorbed in the fighting and killing which provided him with a fresh impulse. He attacked fearlessly and was himself out in front of the commando group. His name became known and was soon on everyone's lips. The Kurdish leader honoured him and called him "Ahmad the Great."

Ultimately Saddam lost his patience and called in his military men and warned them, demanding final victory. He expected them to crush the Peshmergas. "They are superior," said one of the experienced military men, "We can't gain any ground, it's almost suicide to go there at all." Saddam was so enraged that he felt like tearing the man to bits, he ridiculed him as a coward and told him he wasn't worthy of wearing a military uniform. A few days later the man's corpse was sent to his relatives with a letter that said that he had been a milksop that denigrated the army's reputation.

One week later the army started an offensive such as one had never seen before and this time the Peshmergas suffered serious losses. The army was on its way to gaining more ground and penetrating deeper into the Kurdish region. The Peshmergas put up stiff

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resistance with Ahmad in the van. They held up the army until dusk. When the Peshmerga reinforcements came Ahmad had only a little ammunition left. He mobilised a strong counter-attack. That same night the army was once again forced to retreat and thousands of dead and wounded government soldiers were left on the battlefields. From that night on Ahmad was made a member of the Peshmergas' central leadership by the Kurdish leader. Rumours about Ahmad spread light brush fire and blew up like a wind passing between a mountain and a valley. Many of those living in Halabja or who came from there and lived in refugee camps were proud of Ahmad and his name was on everyone's lips, men women and children. They spoke of him and his courage: "Ahmad is avenging his mother, his family and all innocent people who lost their lives, he is a symbol for all martyrs." "Ahmad's name terrified the enemy," said Otman, the tailor, "He has taken part in many battles at the front, he is as brave as a lion!" "He is a lion cub that only kills in battle," said another. "Nowadays he always has bodyguards to accompany him." "No one can compare to him in strength and the Peshmergas only have a handful of men of his calibre."

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Finally the day came that Raza had waited for for so long. The entire village was bathed in a golden light, the villagers woke up and impatiently waited to celebrate Raza's wedding. For them it was a day when they had the chance to shake off everyday misery and worry, to dance together hand in hand. It wasn't long before women and men, oldsters and children went to the wedding hall to celebrate the first wedding day. They wore their best clothes, golden rings and jewellery. The famous folk singers Tarik and Tali sang and played the dahol and the zorna. Their singing got the villagers going. Women in their most colourful dresses were drawn to the dance like bees swarming around flowers. They danced and sweated for hours. The celebration had forced their sorrows to recede into the background and their joy knew no bounds. They danced and sang as if nothing had happened. No one would have thought that a war was going on in the country. Happiest of all were Raza and his family. Cakes, tea and sweets were served the entire time. The kids wandered around and filled their pockets with sweets, it was like a holiday for them. Raza danced the time away and all eyes were fixed on him. Most of the guests abandoned themselves to dancing while Kadir sat there and looked at the people and admired the spontaneous

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happiness that spread among them like a brush fire. They lived their life and were happy to be together, what did they care who ruled the country?

Kadir often focussed his gaze on Raza who was surrounded by beautiful women. He was jealous of him and wished he could be more like him. He felt anxious about hiding himself but he did not dare to talk about what he felt and how he always got dragged into the empty fruitless discussions of ideologies and the accursed false books and theories. "Look around you, see it with your own eyes," he thought, "They are happy people and haven't planned anything. They have been that way for thousands of years. See what a peaceful and harmonious mood prevails. Everyone is taking part in the celebration, big and small. All of them are lending a hand and doing something. With the type of thoughts that grind around in my poisoned brain, I won't get far and those thoughts may even hurt others rather than be of help to any human being. What do I know about how people, the nation or society functions? How can I know if what I believe in is true or false? How can I know that what I'm doing is right when I can't even manage to solve my own problems of life? How am I supposed to shoulder the sorrows of others when I can't even see life with the eyes of reality?" He spoke silently to himself: "Imagine being able to dance like he does! I can't dance at all, I get red in the face when somebody invites me to dance. How can one be a real Kurd without being able to dance and to miss out of so many great happy and warm human moments? Here life is simple and I'm sitting here alone and looking back on all that has been lost." Kadir deeply regretted this but didn't dare to admit it. He longed to have a girl, to hear her voice, be close to her, have her standing at his side. He was angry at everything. What did his poisoned thoughts do with him? He thought of what he had missed in life. He missed the happy times together with his friend Assad. A girl with pitch-black eyes, curled black pigtails and glittering gold rings and necklaces moved slowly and timidly up to the dance. She began to dance and her gentle pointed breasts shook up and down and attracted everyone's gaze like magnets. She had caught Kadir's gaze as well and he felt a fire inside. He longed so much to go dance with her and take her in his hand, to perceive her fragrance. Kadir's gaze was stuck to the girl. He forgot his brooding and suddenly noticed that he was blushing. Kadir fell in love with the girl at first sight, he melted from admiration and quivered with excitement. Omar who had come up to sit beside him could read his thoughts. He whispered: "That's Aula's daughter, I can see what effect she's having on you!" "Stop!" said Kadir and blushed even more.

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Mahmod interrupted their conversation when he came up and asked why they were not dancing. "We'll get to that later," they said, with a friendly smile for Mahmod.

Tarik and Tali played dahol and zorna and happy songs flowed from Tarik's mouth like a tidal gulf hitting the beach. The sound of the dahol was so loud that it could be heard as far away as the next villages. The celebration was already into its third day, the dancing continuing hour after hour. People took turns on the dance floor. Those who stood around it or sat near the scene of the festivities clapped their hands and shared in signing the festive songs. The smell of melted butter and the most delicious dishes filled the entire village.

The following evening, some of the villagers had put festive decorations on their cars. Friends and relatives were supposed to go along when they drove to get Shirin. Omar and Kadir were among them. Raza himself stayed there and waited for them to come back with her. The celebration was supposed to liven up when the bride got there.

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Shirin's mother Salma was the first to wake up and said her morning prayers sitting on her barmal. She sang her prayer in a gentle and low voice that was barely audible. "God, you who have created heaven and earth in only seven days, can you not hear our call, can you not put an end to all the killing and let evil disappear from our lands so that we can go home to my beautiful home. Great One, can you see what we have? Is this my reward? I have never missed a prayer, I have lived according to our religion and conviction. Can you not hear our call? What have we done to bring us here to where everything becomes a struggle for life? A simple cold in this cold weather can be the death of many if you don't come to our help. You are our last hope." Salma took a deep sigh and for a moment her forehead was wrinkled with serious worry. "For me this morning will be a morning I'll never forget, the wedding day of my only daughter." She turned her hand and raised her face to God and said: "My God, I am celebrating my daughter here in a tent in a camp. Today is the last day she will live here. Who knows, we may never see each other again? Tomorrow Raza's family will come and take her with them. How can a mother like me rejoice when we don't even know what our future will be? Tell me, dear God, what did I do? How can I

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rejoice that my darling's wedding preparations take place in a refugee camp on foreign soil? What misfortune my most beautiful daughter has!" Salma became sadder and sadder and continued her lamentation. "Good God, help me, give me strength to manage this day, to overcome sorrow and the great loss. We have lost everything we struggled for for so many years. This suffering that we are going through, isn't it punishment enough? God, give me strength and let me see my daughter again. Yearning for her is already growing like a mountain inside me." After her prayers Salma got up, put the barmal aside and went to Shirin and said to her in a motherly voice full of warmth: "Wake up, daughter, wake up, today is your big day." She kissed Shirin's forehead. "You can't sleep this late in the morning, not on your wedding day. Wake up, my sweet girl!" Shirin drew back the covers slowly and got up and sleepily asked what time it was. "It's almost seven in the morning. We have to eat breakfast and then quickly get you ready." Salma awakened the rest of the family. They ate breakfast together but all of them were unusually silent. Salma set the table and said to papa Nadir and son Addo: "I will get Shirin ready you have to leave we don't have very much time, they'll be coming soon! Halima and the others will soon be here." Nadir was taciturn and seemed to be sad when he kissed Shirin on her forehead and wished her luck while Addo went out without saying anything. They rushed out to go down to the meeting place.

Shirin was completely busy with herself and therefore not open to contact. She had mixed feelings and was both happy and sad that she was now a girl but that she would be a wife by tomorrow, this even though she loved Raza. To wait for years to get a first kiss or hug and now finally become a wife felt both exhilarating and frightening. Now she was stuck in the damned camp and would soon be away from everything, home and relatives. Suddenly she felt great emptiness grow inside her. How would she manage with homesickness for those she was leaving behind her? The neighbour women knew what was going on and rushed to the tent and gathered around Shirin. And what a Shirin! Her beauty was beyond comparison with that of most others. She wore a light green Kurdish dress instead of the bridal gown that had

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been left behind in town when they fled. She had her gold rings, necklaces and earrings on. She sat on the mattress and in a silent moment one could see her mixed feelings of joy and sorrow reflected in her beautiful black eyes protected by long black eyelashes.

The convoy of decorated cars came driving up, sounding their horns, the songs and celebration as if nothing had happened in the country. The kids ran out after the cars and got bags of sweets thrown out of the car windows. Expectation and curiosity were visible in their innocent faces where they ran and pointed the way to Shirin's tent. The cars stopped and the girls got out and rushed into the tent. There was a warm and emotional welcome. They embraced and kissed each other, tears ran slowly and wet their powdered faces. The women sat down around Shirin. Tea and cake were served. Everyone was curious and wanted to see the bride. In the neighbouring tents many others were waiting, both young and old, for the bride to come out. Loud noise, children's shouting, crying and fighting were heard as the kids chased each other and swiped sweets from each other. Adults all spoke at the same time and nobody could or would listen to anyone else in all the chaos and noise.

Halima kissed Shirin's head over and over again and said: "I'll tell you everything, you needn't worry about anything. It isn't as dangerous as it looks, the entire trip will come off like a lark. People have always done things like this, even in war, we manage to stay in our village. It's as easy as anything don't worry it's as easy as anything else. We didn't want to drive in daylight. This is just for safety's sake. It was better like that. You are taking a big risk if you drive by car in daylight. We got to the border and showed our permit to the border guard. They let us through without any problems. Don't worry, beautiful pretty Shirin. We got here. Everything is in order at home and you will get the welcome the befits you. There's a celebration in the village and everyone is dancing to celebrate your arrival. Shirin sat shyly with her head bowed, unable to look people in the eye. For her this was an emotional moment and she hardly heard what the women were saying since they constantly kept interrupting and drowning each other out. She wished that the whole thing could be over soon. Her cheeks were dark red despite the white powder and her tears slowly dried in on her cheeks. One could easily distinguish the jovial and talkative women who had come to fetch Shirin from her own close relatives who were sadder. Halima hugged Shirin and said: "Now its time, it's three o'clock. Now it's time to go, otherwise we'll arrive too late!"

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Salma lost control of her feelings, an outburst of crying and sadness shook her and in a loud voice she began to chant the lament that a mother usually does on a day like this. "How will it be now, how will I manage with my longing? How can our life be so cruel and inhuman? How can I let my darling go just like that? I'll die of sadness and worry. I can't believe my eyes. How is that she can just leave. We may never meet again!" She embraced Shirin with eyes filled with tears that said more than any words could for Shirin. "Now we must part, beloved daughter, may God be with you!" Everyone in the tent got up and accompanied Shirin to the car. Fragrant flowers of various hues rained down over her. She was confused and saw her surroundings like disjointed images dancing in front of her. She got in one of the cars and they drove off.

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They drove carefully along winding mountain roads. It was very difficult to stay seated in the car the entire time. It was daylight and the beautiful scenery in the mountains caught Shirin's attention. What would her future be now? She would now become the wife of her big love. In silence, she enjoyed the thought of Raza while everyone else in the car talked almost incessantly.

After driving for two hours they got to the Iraqi border. It was still light out and nobody dared cross over in the daytime. They stopped and everyone got out of the car, one of the women turning to Halima and saying: "We're starving, let's eat our dinner here." "We are all hungry," several others said. The laid out all that one could wish for on a flowery tablecloth: fried chicken, Kurdish meatballs, salad and flat unleavened bread. Halima sat down next to Shirin. "Eat up now, daughter you are just as hungry as we are." With considerable effort Shirin put a little food away while the others ate so fast and with such an appetite that they couldn't be stopped. In a few minutes all the food disappeared from the cloth. Then they stretched out on the ground, very much exhausted after the long journey. One of the men said: "In three hours it will be dark, we'll stay here that long. Then we'll drive across the border, we can't risk anything. Iraqi fighter aircraft always patrol the border in

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daylight. We have to avoid that if we are afraid for our safety and want to get there unhurt. "You're right, brother."

They stretched out on the ground while Shirin took a seat by herself in the car, abandoned to her thoughts. She was as silent as a stone wall. Her silence was mixed up with crushing worry and yearning. Now she suddenly understood where she was off to. "Yesterday I was just a normal girl, tomorrow I'll become a wife with responsibilities for family and future children. Will we live together with Raza's family or will we live in our own house? How will we afford that? Raza's mama is rich, she'll do anything for him, he's her only child." Before she could only think of being allowed to meet Raza and be in his embrace. Now other thoughts, worrisome and bitter, revolved in her head: "What is he doing now .. is he going to be my husband or a patriotic hero? I will marry him, I want to have him for myself and my children. How will I put up with waiting for him, evening after evening? When will he come the next time? Is he alive or not? To have my hand on my heart the whole time. No, I don't think I'll manage it. He should stay with me and support me and my family. Let the fatherland get along without him. How will I be able to convince him to stay with me? I want to have him for myself." Suddenly it dawned on her: "Today is your day, don't worry about what happens tomorrow, live for your life, your love and forget completely about everything else. Tonight you will become Raza's woman, you are on the way to making your own home. You will give him and his family all your love. For years you have waited to be able to wake up in Raza's embrace. you dreamed and longed for it without telling anyone. You kept your secret to yourself. But now your wish has been fulfilled, what else can you wish for? You are only a human being!" She felt joy come on and happiness well up inside her.

Shirin was awakened form her thoughts when she heard that it was now time to start off again. They all got into their cars and drove towards the Iraqi border where they were stopped by the Peshmergas. It didn't take much time for them to be given permission to return to the country. The convoy reached the village around ten o'clock at night. From far off one could hear the rhythmic sound of the car horns. Lots of people had gathered around the wedding place. Children shouted and laughed. Women crowded into the door openings along the whole street. Older people remembered their own wedding celebration and the

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younger ones dreamed of the day when they themselves would sit in the front car in their white clothing. When the bride's car arrived, joy overwhelmed everyone. Flowers of different hues were thrown at the car. Raza was the first to come out on the street. He helped Shirin who did not even dare to lift her head. She stared shyly at the ground and hugged Raza's hand. In front of the bridal couple two little boys bore a mirror. With music and Kurdish songs the whole village accompanied the couple to the wedding hall. When they got there, Raza and Shirin entered the large hall where they sat down at a table covered with flowers. Over the table chains of paper and balloons were strung out. Someone had written "Raza and Shirin" on a festively drawn tapestry. All the relatives came up to the couple and congratulated them. The men shook hands with Raza and the women kissed Shirin on the cheeks. Out in the garden rhythmic and festive Kurdish music was being played. Several girls had gotten up and started to dance. Hand-in-hand and shoulder-to-shoulder they moved around rhythmically in a semi-circle around the yard. Several girls and younger women went around with trays filled with drinks and pastries. After a while Omar got up and joined the dancing. He got three younger men with him and showed off a few of the more advanced steps. When the singers sang one of their more popular songs almost everyone started to dance, including Raza and Shirin. When the bridal couple danced one could hear the older women's shouting for joy in time with the music. Kids jumped and danced around, clapped their hands and swiped sweets from each other. It wasn't long before mother Halima got the jewellery. Shirin stretched out her hand and was given thick gold rings, earrings, necklaces and finally a broad belt of gold that Raza tightened around her hips. Shirin felt overwhelmed. Her cheeks heated up and she saved her visual impressions as inner photos. The celebration went on the whole night but gradually the guests began to leave the hall. Before they left, they once again shook hands with Raza and Shirin and wished them luck.

Finally the last guests had left and Raza and Shirin were left alone in their new home for the first time as husband and wife. A whole life's worth of yearning burned inside Raza and Shirin like a fire. Since any love life had been so covert and forbidden, the yearning inside them had grown strong and explosive. After years of fantasies and self-control Raza was finally alone in a bedroom with his beloved Shirin. The tension that had lain heavily on them the entire day now gave way to extreme exhaustion. The embraced each other, lay down on the bed and simply fell asleep.

Shirin awakened from Raza caressing her forehead. Slowly they undressed each other with a feeling that what was now about to happen was something sacred. With a mixture

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of excitement that bordered on fright and yearning and passion they felt each other's bodies. Neither of them felt sure of what the other one expected but for the two of them it was a sensation just to lie skin to skin. Raza and Shirin lay in each other's arms for a long while. Raza buried himself in Shirin's long hair and Shirin closed her eyes. The pain she felt was for her a seal and a transition to something new. Long after Raza had fallen asleep Shirin lay awake. Through the curtains the sky could be seen as it slowly lightened up. When the last stars had disappeared Shirin was asleep as well, her face turned to Raza's breast and her cheeks warm and red.

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In Baghdad, fat little Sali had grown up to be a well-built blond lad of twenty-five. He always had short hair and was fond of wearing military clothing, preferably freshly ironed and of the latest model. He left school early and instead was admitted to various training camps arranged by the chief of security in Baghdad. He and his gang played an important roll in the struggle against communists and dissidents and the gang got the name of "terror group." With the passage of time he became an officer in the secret police and met up with respect both inside and outside of the Baath party. He was always surrounded by loyal men. Many Baath supporters in his neighbourhood were proud of him but proudest of all were Ama and his stepfather. For some years Sali lived with what he and his mother had been subjected to in Halabja, he could not forget those that had hurt them and he constantly saw their faces inside him. He longed for revenge. He wanted to be bigger and stronger than the baro tree. He looked forward to the day when he would kill the mathematics teacher Fahmi, when he would crush Fatso's skull, and do the same with the Widow and all the others who had hurt him and his mother.

Now that the Baath party had purged Baghdad of any resistance, it was time to do the same thing in other cities. The Peshmerga supporters were also on the list, the Peshmergas were hated and called terrorist and sinister forces. One early morning, Sali was sleeping deeply in his room and was not awakened by his half-siblings' constant running around the breakfast table before they left for school. Ama whispered to them several times: "Sali is still sleeping, don't wake him up, you rascals!" But after a short while the kids started to squabble and scream again. "It was your fault!" "No it wasn't at all, you took my piece!"

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"No, it was mine!" "Stop it," Ama shouted. "That's enough now, leave the table, otherwise you'll get there too late!" Just at that moment a military car stopped outside. The driver, Adel, came in and the kids came running up to him. They ran out to the car and sat behind the wheel and blew the horn persistently until the neighbouring women and the other kids in the neighbourhood came running out, all curiosity and with their gaze on Sali's house. Ama turned to Adel and spoke in Arabic: "I hope that you're hungry, sit down son, I'll make breakfast for you!" He thanked her and said: "Some other time, I'm in a hurry, the security chief has called for officer Sali. Where is he?" Ama went into Sali's room and yelled: "Sali, Sali, wake up, son!" He paid no attention to his mother but turned over and drew the blanket over his head. Ama went up to him, shook him and said: "Wake up, son, the security chief is waiting for you, your driver is here." Sali bolted up, quickly put his clothes on and was immediately ready to go. It took them a while to get his siblings out of the car. The kids pleaded with them: "Please Sali, can you give us a lift to school?" "Get away now, not this time, I'm in a hurry!" Adel drove the car off with difficulty. The kids ran after it and several of them tried to cling to the car before they pushed themselves free. The women waved amiably, they were on their way to Sali's house. They greeted them and their eyes gleamed with pleasure and curiosity: "Where is he off to so early, something important must have happened?" one of them wondered. Another woman quickly chimed in: "This is the first time I've seen him going this early, where is he headed?" "He has been called in to the security chief," Ama said, with pride in her voice. "To him?" one of the women burst out. "We are all proud of him, almost the entire neighbourhood. He is not just your son, he's the neighbourhood's pride. They went in and sat in the kitchen and talked for a long while. When the women went home again Ama shook her head and thought: "Such is life, in Halabja I was a whore and my Sali was a whore's son, but now we're the pride of the neighbourhood!"

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She quickly shook off those memories. She was paralysed of fright every time she thought of the past and anxiety threatened to get the upper hand. Sali woke up in the car and said to Adel: "Why do you think he called me? I have never seen him, have you heard something?" "No, I haven't, but it must be something important since he sent for you, it's surely something good. It's not everyone that gets the chance to meet such a great man." When they got there, Sali got out of the car and said to Adel: "Wait for me!" He went into security headquarters and after waiting a half-hour he was allowed in to see the security chief.

Sali got a warm welcome from the security chief who shook his hand and said: "Please, have a seat!" Sali nervously took a seat, amazed at what he saw in the huge room. Two large portraits of Bakr and Saddam with frames of silver and gold and many other paintings. The easy chair was so comfortable that he could easily have gone to sleep in it. "Do you know why I called you in?" "No sir," said Sali with respect. "You are our first Baath generation. I've heard so many good things about you and your work for the party is irreplaceable." He spoke quickly and Sali had trouble following him. "The reports we have about you are more than convincing. We never forget the loyal and the capable. I previously thought of having you as my own bodyguard but I felt that people like you are needed elsewhere. You showed so much courage when we mopped up all the Baath opponents in Baghdad. Now we are once again facing our enemy in the north of Iraq, more specifically in the city of Suleimaniya which is overflowing with suspected Peshmergas and their groups of killers. We have to show them that we won't give in to their demands and, instead, will teach them a lesson. We have to purge the city of all suspected Peshmergas and their supporters. He lit a cigarette and held out his hand to Sali. But Sali said: "Sir, how could I smoke a cigarette in your presence?" "Do it, son, you are the party's backbone and pillar and your achievements have been worth gold. Do you know why we chose you?" The security chief answered the question himself: "Your faith in the Baath is a faith which is rare, not here in Baghdad but in other places where our future is in danger. In Suleimaniya the issue is that you speak Kurdish,

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your work will be irreplaceable. Tomorrow you'll be going to Suleimaniya. You can pick your men, you will be in direct contact with me and you are to create law and order in the city. The security chief raised his voice: "Throw suspects into prison, execute them if necessary, it matters little if they're guilty or not, we have to strike terror into them, this is the only language they understand. One more thing, all those who have a Peshmerga in the family are to have their property confiscated and be expelled from the city. Drive them off to the mountains where they can be reunited with their Peshmerga sons! When the day comes and we've crushed the Peshmerga then you'll come back to us here and then even higher assignments will be waiting for you. Sali's eyes gleamed with joy, he couldnt believe his ears and was embarrassed like a little schoolboy. The security chief turned to him and said: "You're silent and you aren't saying anything!" Sali said in respectful and correct Arabic: "Sir, I'm speechless, overjoyed, I can't express my joy! I promise you just one thing and that is that I'll sacrifice my life and that I won't disappoint you!" He got up and went up to the security chief who nodded and shook his hand. He patted Sali on the shoulders and said: "God be with you!" "One more thing," said the security chief just as Sali was about to turn to go. "Form terror groups, create collaborators and search out suspects who have had contact with terrorists." Sali's eyes lit up, he felt so light that he could almost fly. The security chief saw this and smiled in satisfaction. "Go and may God be with you!"

On the way home, Sali's face was shining like the sun and the only thing that went around in his head was the assignment in Suleimaniya. Adel interrupted him with his prying questions: "What did the chief say to you, tell me! I'm dying of curiosity." "You're going with me to Suleimaniya, you'll be my driver, were going there tomorrow. And, by the way, not just you but everyone in my gang, everyone must be ready at our meeting place at eight o'clock." "This came as a surprise but a nice one. What do I have to lose, I'll go with you wherever you go, I'm your loyal soldier!"

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Sali thought of the possibilities that this would entail and old unpleasant memories from his past started to make their way up to the surface. When he came in through the door at home he rushed up to Ama and hugged her. He lifted her up in the air several times and walked around with her. The kids cried out in delight and all hell broke loose with them. "Put me down, you good-for-nothing boy, put me down! What has happened? Tell me, I can't wait any longer! Tell me!" "I'm going to Suleimaniya with my group." Ama went stiff and couldn't believe what she had heard. Her voice sounded as if she were saddened. "Have you been transferred to Suleimaniya? Why? I'll miss you, I'll die if anything happens to you!" "This is good news," he said, his eyes shining with joy. "I've been promoted, little mama, I will be deputy chief to the security chief in Suleimaniya where I'll be in direct contact with the chief in Baghdad. Don't you see what an opportunity your son has been given? He furthermore promised me that when we've crushed the Peshmergas I'll get an even higher job. Soon I'll be just as big as the big leaders, I have a feeling that luck is blowing in my direction! Our day has come and now that I'm going to be serving there this will be my life's big chance, this is the day I've waited so long for - to take revenge on all those who were such bastards to you and me in Halabja. Now the day will come that we waited so many years for, now I'll give it back to them, teach them a lesson they'll never forget!

Ama sat in the kitchen and seemed depressed. This came as such a surprise that she needed time to digest the news and gain a little clarity in her thoughts. Sali came up to Ama: "Listen, mother! This is the chance of my life and it is my duty to be loyal to my party. Don't worry, I'll give it back to all those that hurt you, I'll track them down one by one, they'll do penance for their sins and all the misery we went through thanks to them. I haven't forgotten a single face. I'll have everything in my power and they'll find out who they're dealing with." "I'm only afraid that something might happen to you, I moved away from that damned place for your sake and now you want to go back there!" "I'll come back but not with my tail between by legs, I'll come back with power in my hands." Ama interrupted him:

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"I know that an opportunity like this only comes once. I am both happy and sad at the same time but we will all miss you. God be with you whatever you do but promise me that you won't touch innocent people and that you'll only punish those that made life so tough for us in Halabja! The old Widow should not escape her punishment. Track down that teacher bastard and kill him, the day I hear the news about that I'll praise God! You should kill him, not the others, but teach them a lesson, let them eat their own shit! "The bastards won't get away. I promise you they'll get hell. They don't recognise me, maybe they don't even know that I exist but I know them, I haven't forgotten them. Tomorrow I'm going with my gang to Suleimaniya and in my own struggle for my honour all means are allowed." "I'll miss you," said Ama, bursting out in tears. "It's only a few hours drive by car, I'll be back for a visit often."

The news spread quickly throughout the neighbourhood and the neighbours rushed to Sali's house to wish him luck.- They sat for a long time that evening and discussed the situation in Kurdistan and it was already past midnight when they all went home.

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The war went on and on and every day many people lost their lives. Mourning was far too common and people were forced to repress their awareness of all the misery and to go on living. In Suleimaniya, local government was divided between the army and the Peshmerga. In the daytime the army had full control and at night the Peshmergas had it. The army changed its plans for retaking the small towns which the Peshmergas had under their control and instead decided to establish law and order in Suleimaniya even in the evening and at night. Every day hundreds of exhausted Peshmergas and deserters handed in their weapons. In most houses people hung up pictures of Bakr and Saddam on the walls in their living rooms. People learned their standard replies and knew what they were supposed to say or do in order to keep up with the rapid flip-flopping. Many businessmen had amicable relations with the new government and frequently bribed them with presents. Many unemployed people became informers for the regime in order to support their families.

When Sali came to Suleimaniya with his gang they drove straight to security headquarters. Sali was received like a senior official and the chief introduced him to his employees and demanded that everyone carried out his orders to the letter. The very next

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day Sali demanded to be shown all registered Peshmerga families and other suspected persons. Sali began to fit in to his work very well and he kept at it until he fell asleep. Suddenly he was awakened by the sound of heavy gunfire. It was the Peshmergas who were shooting their anti-tank grenade launchers and it lasted for several hours.

The following day people went out as usual and schools, shops and restaurants opened up. People swarmed about the streets and most of them had no business to do but simply talked about the previous day's shooting. Suddenly the noise started again and they desperately rushed into some place or threw themselves on the ground. The shooting lasted for five minutes and when it ended a collaborator lay dead and one passer-by was wounded in the middle of Suleimaniya, lying in his own blood. When Sali heard the news he became so enraged that he trembled with anger. He gathered all of his security men and gave them the order to get everyone who was a supporter of the terrorists or had anything to do with them. They spent the whole day chasing around with plenty of kicking and beating until they finally had rounded up several hundred women, men and children. Towards evening the people were driven out to the outskirts of town. Sali sat in the back seat of a Mercedes, his face tense and with a mien of seriousness on it. When the vehicles stopped Sali once again shouted at the people: "Get out, all of you!" Scared to death, they all quickly got out of the vehicles, except for one elderly man who couldn't stand the pressure and collapsed on the lorry's platform. One of Sali's men checked the lorries and he shouted when he saw the old man lying on the platform. "Get out, you bastard!" he shouted and climbed into the lorry and threw the old man down on the ground. The man hit his head on a large stone and died immediately. His blood ran out in a broad stream on the dry sand. All of those that were gathered together thought that they would be shot at any moment, they started automatically to say their prayers and recited hymns with quivering lips. The old man's wife and his nearest relatives cried uncontrollably when they saw him. Sali came up to them and shouted in Arabic. Many of them couldn't understand what he said. "We not going to kill you, just get out of here," he shouted. "Go back to your damned terrorists, run as fast as you can, you bastards!" Everyone ran away as fast as they could with bullets raining down on them the whole time. Many were wounded. When everything was over, Sali's group intended to leave the dead man's corpse on the ground.

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Sali changed his mind and quickly got out of the car and ordered his men to pick the corpse up and put it on the lorry. "Drop him off at the mosque in the city!" They bolted off and several of the men hung out of the lorry's window and shouted and fired one shot after another into the air. "Now we got rid of them, we quickly purged the entire town, the next step will be to break up the group of murderers and their accomplices."

Time had passed and it had become more or less safe to live in Suleimaniya. There was electricity, running water and TV. Few traces of war could be seen. Everything could be bought in the market and no one dared raised their prices by a single fils. People got used to knowing who were their friends and who were their enemies. They talked, and always about the war, about how many had been killed and who they were. But they could not talk without being disturbed. The regime had many spies and just as many volunteers who reported to them. When a suspected government supporter appeared, people automatically fell silent and on their guard and said nothing bad about the regime.

Amina, Little Brother and Narmin had long since been living with Sirwan. They lived in a fairly quiet neighbourhood and the Peshmergas seldom succeeded in penetrating so far into the city. They were safer there than in the neighbourhoods that became the Peshmergas' stamping grounds when night fell. Amina was nonetheless afraid and Brahem's death had made her so sensitive that she tried to persuade her children not to take sides. "Now misfortunes descend on us. We have to watch our tongues. There are scads of traitors who report everything. You are never safe anywhere. It's not worth it, just for the sake of a few words, to end up in prison and perhaps be tortured or humiliated. We have families to support. We have nothing to do with those that win or lose."

Several days later the Peshmergas' retribution for the deported families came. A large charge of explosives was set off near the security service's building and Sali lost his patience and gathered his men again. His eyes were like fire and he cast dissatisfied and angry gazes at them. "We have to search homes in this damned town," he shouted so that the ground shook. "What kind of people are you? Are you going to let terrorists destroy and control the city in the daytime? I swear that within a few weeks we'll find the guilty, from now on we'll be carrying out house searches with all suspected Peshmerga supporters. Ultimately, we have to find something, some weapons or some flyers."

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He went silent and everyone sat deathly quite and waited expecting him to go on but instead he became angry and shouted: "What are you waiting for, aren't you going to start now," he screamed, and everyone rushed off. They took with them lists of names and split all of the neighbourhoods up between them. At the same time the military police searched for anyone who had deserted. It was late in the afternoon when Sali started his campaign, and when he came in with his men and was about to search a house Amina came at him with the Koran in her hand. Sali was surprised. He immediately recognised her and Little Brother. He instinctively would have embraced them. He looked at Amina and then noticed Little Brother who paled and trembled in fear. "Imagine, the neighbourhood troublemaker shaking, now the roles are reversed," Sali thought to himself when he went up to Little Brother and asked in Arabic: "What's your name?" Little Brother gave his name in a quivering voice. "Youre a Peshmerga supporter, we have a report on that!" Little Brother was so scared that he couldn't breathe, he shook like as an aspen leaf. "No, you're mistaken, I don't care about politics at all." Amina became shaky and took the Koran in her hand and said: "For the Holy Book's sake! Spare us!" She was shocked and didn't quite know what she was saying. Little Brother collapsed and felt all his strength leave him. Sali's men began to question them but Sali shouted: "Stop! It's not necessary, I know them." He turned to Amina: "Don't worry, and just let me know if you need anything." Sali collected his men and rushed off.

In one of the houses they seized Big Head who had deserted from the army and hidden at home. When Sali's men seized him he became so frightened that he threw up. He knew what awaited him. His mother screamed and groaned and held onto Big Head and the men hit her and pulled her hair and kicked her till she fell. "Beat it, you old whore, we're only going to execute him! It doesn't take long!" They tied up Big Head in front of his house and gathered everybody in the neighbourhood. Big Head's parents couldn't keep themselves under control and they threw themselves in front of the men but this time Sali's men kicked them even harder

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and hit them with their rifles. The tied up his parents and told them to watch while they sent their traitor of a son off to hell. The parents screamed in desperation. It was only a few seconds before they had executed Big Head in full view of everybody. Later that evening the security men collected about fifty suspects and confiscated a large quantity of guns and ammunition.

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The next day when Little Brother went to school and heard what had happened to his childhood friend Big Head he lost his self-control and got into a heated argument with those students who sided with the regime. He lunged at them, thrashed wildly about and banged their heads on the ground. He was close to killing one of the boys but other students came between them. Little Brother's eyes were blind with rage and he spat on the boy lying on the ground and when he got up he noticed the president's portrait hanging on the wall of the classroom. Without thinking, he spat at the picture.

The same day everything was reported to the security police and they came to the school to take Little Brother who was then seized and thrown into prison. "Do you know what you've done, you idiot," the lead interrogator shouted, "You've spat at the president's portrait, do you know what the punishment is for that?" "The punishment is death," shouted one of the other men in the room. "I don't care about that, I know you're going to kill me, death is better than everything else. You killed my papa, you can kill me too, I want to be killed, I don't want to live anymore, I hate everyone, I hate you." He screamed, completely out of control. "I confess, do what you want with me!" The lead interrogator smiled at his colleague. "Quite a tough guy, youll soon be pleading for mercy on your knees! Take him to the torture room!" His voice echoed through the room. For two days Little Brother took a beating and his whole body was covered by black-and-blue marks. He didn't have the strength to stand on his own feet, and they shouted at him: "This is your punishment for disobedience and disloyalty! Next we'll send you to join your dead father."

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Several days had passed and together with the lead interrogator a few guards let Little Brother go to Sali. Sali looked at him and in certain way he was moved. Seeing Little Brother in this condition aroused something in him. The lead interrogator turned to Sali and said: "Sir, he's confessed, what should we do with him, should we get rid of him or should we throw him into prison?" Sali quickly replied: "Not death, but twenty years in prison can be a good lesson for him."

The days passed and Amina was confused. She tried several times to take her own life and if it hadn't been for Sirwan and other relatives she would certainly have succeeded. She became like a mad woman and spent the whole time waiting for her son without knowing what had happened to him. It was late in the morning when the postman came with a letter for her. Sirwan read the letter and his eyes lit up with joy: "He's alive, he survived but he's been sentenced to twenty years and is in the prison in Mosul together with several others. He wants us to visit him." Amina felt an indescribable relief as if Little Brother had been born again while at the same time she could hardly help but cry over the thought of what he must be going through in prison.

One week later Amina, Sirwan and several others drove to the prison in Mosul. Early in the morning they reached the prison area. It was a cold morning and the sun could hardly warm them up that early. They were forced to wait in the car until it got warmer. When visiting hours came they went into the prison area and it wasn't long before thousands of visitors came in and queued up in long queues across the prison yard. They waited standing up until the afternoon and the sweat was running down their bodies. Many of the older people couldn't stand such treatment and fainted. When Sirwan went into the prison he was stopped by the guards. First they searched him thoroughly. Then they asked time and again: "Why are you visiting that terrorist, why?" "He's my brother." The guard spat at him and shoved him so hard that he fell over. Then they wrote down his name and address and threatened him the entire time. When Amina come after Sirwan, she too was stopped. When they looked at her identity card they found a misspelling. They shouted: "Get out of here, you're not related to anyone." They pushed her away and said:

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"Beat it, you don't belong here! Beat it, or we'll give you a good thrashing!" Amina wept hysterically and pleaded, but with no success. Finally she went out to the car in tears. She stared at the boiling sky and said several prayers. It wasn't long before she ran in again. She beat her chest and cried: "I swear on the Koran that I am his mother. God keep you, let me come in, I've come from so far away." "Alright," one of the guards sneered. "Go in and say hello to your whore's son." On their way into the prison yard the visitors had to take the kicks and blows that the guards constantly dealt them to get them to hurry up. "We haven't got all day!" When the guards finally let the visitors in the prisoners rushed up to them. They embraced and kissed each other's hands.

Little Brother wanted to weep for joy when he saw Amina and Sirwan but the tears stuck in his throat. They embraced hard and long. Amina said time and again: "What have they done with you, you are just skin and bones." No one of them could believe that in this crowded place there was room for over two hundred men held as prisoners, both young and old. Many of them were condemned to death and had little time left unless some miracle was to occur in the next few months. There were more than one hundred persons who were to suffer that fate. A woman, together with her five children, visited her husband. They sat next to Little Brother. The kids clung to the father and hugged him tight. The man looked sad and was on the verge of tears. Little Brother whispered in Amina's ear: "The day has been set, in two weeks they're going to hang him." Amina looked at them with sadness in her eyes. She saw herself reflected in them. How would a single woman manage to support herself and her five children?

After a little while the guards came back. They bawled and shouted. The visiting hours were over. Some of the visitors didn't move. Among them were Sirwan and Amina. The guards became enraged and lunged at them. The shouted and used obscenities. With kicks and blows to the face they threw the visitors out through the prison gates. On the way home Sirwan drove the car. He sat silently while Amina couldn't stop crying.

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"The godless guards have hit so hard that I have black-and-blue marks all over my body, it hurts so much. May God take them, they too have children, nobody forces them to be so ruthless and treat others so badly. They have no feeling in their bodies." Sirwan broke his silence and consoled her: "Pray an extra prayer and thank God that Little Brother is alive. He has been sentenced to prison and not to death."

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A few weeks had passed in Suleimaniya and the number of terror bombings and explosions fell significantly. Sali, with the assistance of his men, increased his control over the city which was now quite calm in the daytime. After several house searches they seized hundreds of civilians and suspected Peshmerga supporters who were imprisoned without there being any evidence against them and several others were executed in front of their relatives. Everyone in town talked about Sali and rumours about him were rife. Many rich inhabitants of Suleimaniya tried to make his acquaintance. He was inundated with gifts, sometimes without even knowing where they came from. No one knew anything about him, they would never have believed that he was fat little Sali and that, actually, he was just as much a Kurd as they were.

One early morning when he woke up, Sali thought of the mathematics teacher Fahmi. He called Adel and said to him: "Go and get the school principal!" Adel drove off as fast as he could towards the administration building. He entered and, without knocking, he made his way on to the school's principal who looked scared and asked: "What would you like, sir?" "Follow me to the security chief." The principal was terrified and several times said that he hadn't done anything, he even protested that he was a Baath supporter and that was exactly why he had become principal. "I don't know what you did, but it must have been something since he's sent for you." The principal went with Adel, his heart pounding and several times praying to God that it must be some misunderstanding or mix-up. When he went in to see Sali he was so tense that he could neither see or hear him. He just stood there like a statue without being able to open his mouth. It took him a while

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to realise that Sali politely asked him to take a seat, something he had not expected. He sat down and Sali stared at him and clearly saw to what extent fear had its grip on him. He turned around and said in a friendly manner: "How is our principal doing, I have for some time been thinking of meeting you, you that have such an important position and can give us the information we need about all suspected teachers and students in the city. I want to have the names and addresses of all teachers within a few days." The principal regained the colouring in his face and drew a deep breath of relief. "I'll get them at once, cooperating with you is not just my duty but something that I am happy to do." "Good," said Sali, "and one more thing: I want information about a teacher, Fahmi who taught mathematics in Halabja in 1965." "I know him well, he's the principal of one of our schools in town. But he's reliable." "That was all I wanted for now!" "I'll provide all the information you might need," the principal insisted as he went.

Sali thought of Fahmi and his anger boiled over inside him. He said to himself: "Now I've found you, you won't escape my power, I'll demand your head on a plate. I'll surprise you, torture you, kill you for the misery imposed on us because of you." It was seventeen years worth of hatred that smouldered inside him. He cursed the memory of Fahmi and spat in front of himself.

Several evenings later Sali drove to Fahmi's neighbourhood and stopped in front of his house. Without knocking he stormed into the house and Fahmi, who was dressed in pyjamas, came up to them and tried to welcome them in a desperate attempt to avoid what appeared to be in the offing. Adel hit him with the machine gun and he fell over on the floor. He cast a pleading gaze at them and said: "What have I done? I'm a supporter of the regime, I'm clean, I have family and children, some mistake must have been made. I am principal of a school, you must have got the wrong person." "No, Fahmi Effendi, I know you well," said Sali in correct Arabic. "Follow me and don't say a word, otherwise I'll kill you right off the bat." His wife moaned frantically and threw herself in front of Sali's feet and shouted: "Spare us for our children's sake!"

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"Not traitors, we have information on him, he's been involved in the bomb attack and he has been in contact with terrorists." When Sali saw the woman, he felt a twinge in his breast and for a moment he considered freeing Fahmi, but when he heard Ama's voice inside him, ' Kill the bastard!' he was unable to forgive him. They put handcuffs on him and threw him in the car while his wife and kids looked on. Everyone in the neighbourhood heard everything but didn't dare to venture out. When they drove away, the neighbours gathered at their house.

Fahmi was thrown into a crowded underground cell where there wasn't even room to lie down. He couldn't believe his eyes and he didn't understand why he had landed there. He just barely managed to find room and inside himself he chanted without interruption: "There must have been some mistake, they have seized the wrong person, I haven't done anything." Time passed and he waited for hours on end for four days but no one asked him for anything. In the end he was devastated by all the waiting and from the prisoners' cries of pain which could be heard outside the cell when they came back from interrogation.

Sali sent several guards to fetch Fahmi. Accompanied by kicks and blows and under the threat of a machine run he was led up to a large room where Sali waited for him. He threw himself at Sali's feet: "Save me, I have a wife and kids. God knows that I haven't done anything, I never hurt a flea!" Sali's eyes went black and he kicked him so hard in the face that his teeth were pushed in. "You very well have done something! I know you well but you obviously don't recognise me!" He beat Fahmi with a cane so hard that he grew tired and began to sweat. "I'm going to kill you slowly, you won't get away so easily, I've waited for this day for years. You don't know who I am but you must know it by tomorrow, otherwise you'll come back the day after." "I have never seen you, sir, I swear on the Koran. Let me go!" "Never, you bastard!" Sali screamed and turned to the guards. "Tie him up to the torture table, give him as much as he can take, this teacher has some home work to do, but don't let any bastard kill him! But he should get a good beating!"

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Sali could hardly recognise himself, he saw how this man stirred up anxiety inside him and he felt terribly sick. He left the room. "Treat him afterwards," Sali shouted, "He shouldn't die! He has to confess first. He should come back in three days, and he must be thinking clearly before we meet again.

Fahmi lay and writhed in pain, he didn't have the strength to cry out, it was as if he had been numbed by his own pain. He regained consciousness and thought back to his days in Halabja. Suddenly Sali's image appeared to him. He remembered fat little Sali, Ama's son. "It can't be!" he whispered. When they went to get Fahmi he was so feeble that he couldn't stand up on his own legs. Fahmi's raucous voice was gone, he was now barely audible when he spoke. He just stood there a short moment then he sank to the floor. "Get a pail with some ice water!" said Sali. When he had regained consciousness, Sali shouted at him: ""Do you know who I am?" Fahmi shook his head. Sali felt crushed, this man who had inflicted so much pain on him and his mother did not even recognise him. Things went black for him and in an instant he shot a bullet through Fahmi's head.

The days passed by but the death of the teacher did not provide Sali with any peace, his anxiety did not grow lighter, on the contrary he felt almost stifled to death. Fahmi constantly reappeared in his dreams. He was the only person that Sali had killed with his own hands. For a while he sought solitude most of the time and avoided all the parties and celebrations that were organised.

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Several weeks had passed since Raza's and Shirin's wedding and they were living in the guest cottage next to his parents' house where they were left to themselves. Now it was their turn to organise a party for relatives and friends and the whole day they were busy preparing for it. Shirin felt lonely and jittery in her stomach among Raza's numerous relatives, she was still not close to any of them. Raza consoled her and hugged her and told her that she had him. But Shirin still longed for her family and felt that it was difficult being alone on such an important day. She wondered what the party would be like and was at the same time curious about what kind of presents the guests would bring.

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Towards evening acquaintances and relatives gathered at the couple's home, they ate and presented their gifts and wished the couple luck. When all of them had gone home again, the immediate family gathered in Halima's kitchen. Raza look content while Shirin was somewhat reserved and taciturn. "It went well and it's nice that it's over," said Raza. "And we got some nice presents." "Yes, there were many good things," said Halima, "but I was disappointed with the Attah family that brought along such a worthless present that we can hardly use." "You are completely right," said Mahmod, "And if I were you I'd send it back to them!" He grinned: "We've known them for years, they don't know any better and they're also very stingy." "I know," Halima interrupted, "But one has to have some class, it's something that one has to have under any conditions. When his sons married, I bought the best presents but when my only son married they brought something used with them. If they were poor it wouldn't matter but they have money." "It doesn't matter," said Raza, "They wouldnt make me happy whatever they brought. Shirin and I are happy and that's what's important." Shirin served tea one more time and Raza and Omar answered in unison: "No, thanks, we can't drink any more."

Mahmod had grown tired of the women's nagging and dissatisfaction and turned to Omar and said in a loud voice: "You know, tomorrow I'm going to Suleimaniya to get my pension!" "Yes, I know," said Omar. "How do you know that?" "Half the town knows it! The barber Baktiar told me that at present there's an amnesty and Suleimaniya's gates are opening up for those that surrender or visit the town." He was silent at first but then continued: "And one more thing, many people will come to you tomorrow and give you letters and other important papers for their relatives who've fled to Suleimaniya." "Are you going to be a postman for others?" Halima hissed. "You're putting a sharp knife around your neck, how can you at times like these have other people's identity papers on you? Are you begging to go back to prison?" Mahmod cut her off:

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"You're making a hen out of a feather, what 's the problem?" "The problem is you and what goes on in your head! I know you promised people, you did, but you're stupid like you've always been, you'll sacrifice yourself and us for others, we always come second." "What's wrong with you, Halima? I'm only going there to get my pension." He grinned and teased her and said he might just stay there. "Stay there, if that's what you want. It won't be the first time! I get so upset and disappointed every time I think of why everything you do has to effect us. You've been in prison and in banishment for half of your life, isn't that enough? Not a single damned person came to us at home when you were in prison and asked how we were getting along or what we needed. But I know you, it's no use teaching old dogs new tricks." Mahmod took no notice of her feelings. He poked fun at her in front of their guests and laughed at her. When he saw how her eyes started to water he stopped and said a little bit more seriously: "You are right, my darling." Halima wanted to say more but since she was so upset she decided to keep quiet instead. She later turned and said to him: "You are not so young and strong anymore! You are an old pensioner that's soon going to die. Wouldn't it be better to turn to Mekkah than to get involved in politics? Only a few weeks ago you managed to get out of Fatso's claws." Omar tried to change the subject by making an input: "Don't worry, he'll manage!" "Obviously I get worried with such a husband. He'll never learn to mind his tongue and constantly meddles in other people's business. Just tell me why is he taking the whole neighbourhood's identity cards and documents to Suleimaniya?"

The news spread through the village the next day and soon everyone knew that Mahmod was going to go to Suleimaniya. It wasn't long before all the relatives and friends got together with him. Some of them wrote letters and others gave them identity cards that Mahmod was supposed to give to people in Suleimaniya. Halima was dissatisfied and felt uncomfortable when she gave him their things and she reminded him that it was dangerous and that he might be stopped. "You are afraid of everything!" She shook her head: "You think you know everything, old woman, you can even see into the future. What is so dangerous about this when those are letters and papers for people who live there!"

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"I warned you, stubborn old man, you have only yourself to blame!" "Stop for God's sake!" said Raza who had just come in. Shirin was astonished at the heated discussion while Raza didn't mind it very much since he was used to this.

Mahmod left and around lunchtime they got to the outskirts of town where they saw a huge and distinct stop sign in Arabic. The car stopped and several plainclothes security men got out of the car in front. They shouted: "Yalla, hurry up. Get out!" Everyone quickly get out and were pushed up against a wall where they were searched one after another. The search was conducted slowly and thoroughly. When it was Mahmod's turn, they found the identity cards and the letters written in Kurdish. They called out to the head guard: "Look what we have here!" "What's that?" the head guard shouted and punched Mahmod in the nose so that blood flowed out of it. "Take that damned smuggler and terrorist aside." Mahmod covered his face with his arms and tried to explain that there had been a mistake but his Arabic was so bad that no one understood what he was talking about. He had to endure several kicks and was pushed aside. One of the security men shouted at him: "Damned old man, shut up or I'll break every bone in your body!"

On his way to the military prison, Mahmod had to take so many blows that he fell over on the ground. "I'm innocent!" he tried to say in Arabic. "Get up, you bastard," the guard shouted, "Otherwise I'll snap you off with a worthless bullet. You were carrying a lot of identity cards and are a messenger for the terrorists. You smuggle persons who are wanted and forged documents." Mahmod was thrown into a room where there already were several other people waiting to be taken to the security service's underground headquarters in Suleimaniya.

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Summer 1974

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96

Days passed and the people of Halabja abandoned any hope for peace. Life got more and more difficult, every day people were murdered and thrown into prison, for good reasons or for none. Houses were burned down, pillaged and levelled with the ground. Insecurity and the feeling that everything was meaningless brought life almost to a standstill. Everyone expressed their anger and disappointment. The whole time people were pressed to the limit. Hell could break loose at any moment, slander and personal attacks became part of the everyday routine.

Raza had not bothered about anything except entertaining Shirin and spending time with her. Their love grew for every day that passed. Raza felt the waves of delight dance through him when he pressed Shirin's soft cheeks to his own and when he kissed her. When they embraced each other their hands glided gently and slowly. They had found themselves in each other. People began to gossip and speak ill of them. Close relatives felt pressured and felt unease when they heard angry villagers openly gossiping about them. In the caf the villagers sat and spoke ill of them, showing their dissatisfaction and disgust as if the couple had committed a crime. "We never would have believed that about him," said one large-framed man with big yellow teeth. "What does he think, that idiot? Maybe he thinks that he's the only one who has a woman!" said another. "May God take him! He's bringing shame on us men! He's a scandal for the whole village! He thinks he's the only one that has married in the whole world." Some men became even more irritated when Raza shaved of his moustache. "That bloke has gone too far," said someone. "From now on I'll be calling him the "bastard without a moustache!" "Anyone hiding between his wife's legs isn't a real man!" "The hell wit him, what an idiot! He never comes out and is only together with her." "Mahmod who thought he had a son that he could be proud of," the large-framed man said and smiled. "The worst part of it is that Shirin thinks she's better than us villagers, she's responsible for the fact that none of them will have anything to do with us! She thinks that we're all idiots! A man must know his place and that goes for a woman too. Isn't there anyone who can go and tell him this?"

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The gossip continued but Raza was not bothered very much by what the villagers said behind his back. He repeatedly said: "You can't shut the mouths of these disgusting and far-reaching venomous tongues now that I've seen that men with their big moustaches gossip even worse than women. They don't know me and I have nothing to do with them and I have nothing in common with them except that we live here. They are envious and don't know anything about all of the delightful happy hours that make me feel light like a feather and help me escape from all the misery, from all the killing in this bloodthirsty land." On his way into town he met the bulky farmer but he turned his face away and did not greet him. The man became so upset about this that his eyes lit up of anger. Raza continued on and said to himself: "What score do they have to settle with me? Why are they after me? Let them say what they want, I live my own life, I haven't done anything wrong! I only want to be close to my beloved and wake up in her embrace. What do I care about their venomous tongues. Let them croak as they wish, I don't care. I don't need their blessing, I'm happy as it is. I'm not worried about them but about the war." Raza kicked a stone lying on the road. Anxiety and uncertainty suddenly set in inside him: "How can I live a normal life in such an abnormal and uncertain existence? My fate can change at any moment. I can't get very far with the love I bear in my breast. Sometimes I wonder if I haven't gone mad, being able to behave so normally in such an abnormal situation. Everything I have worked so hard to achieve in so many years can be lost in a single blow. I'm horrified when I think what can happen. They can drag me down, all the way to the bottom of hell. Why this hatred? Why this killing? Why dont they open their eyes? Why should I go up to the mountains? Why should I leave the person I love more than my own soul?" He didn't want Shirin to know about the concerns gnawing away at him inside. What would he do if he were drafted into the war? Should he leave Shirin alone or abandon the Peshmerga? If he left the Peshmerga he would be thrown into prison in Kalakan and be branded a coward and a softy for the rest of his life.

When Raza came to the neighbourhood in Halabja he was awakened from his brooding when Omar tapped him on the shoulders and said: "Tomorrow you two are invited to our place, we are waiting for you but right now I'm off to see Behram Bey, he's seriously ill and might not make it." "We can do that, but first I have to talk with Kadir, he's waiting for me and then we'll go and visit Behram Bey."

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They walked together towards Kadir's home.

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There had always been tensions between the Peshmerga and intellectuals. The Peshmergas were not enthusiastic about students and called them cowards and said that they had big mouths and hid behind eloquent words. At every meeting where Kadir was present the tension grew so strong that he became indignant and threatened to stop altogether. Hairless openly showed his disgust at students: "Students do no good," he said with a sneer. "They're only a burden on our shoulders. We don't need words, we need action, we need people for the front and at the same time we have thousands of students running around doing nothing. We sacrifice our lives and they harvest the rewards, we face death in battle and they simply talk about it." Kadir felt so enraged that he was close to lunging at him. "No one is going to call me a coward, I've been close to getting killed several times. I'm going to join the fighting, I'm reporting to the Peshmerga base tomorrow." Hairless looked contented and patted Kadir on the shoulders: "I don't mean you, I mean the others, how could I have been referring to you when your papa is among our best known martyrs. The other students think that war and heavy fighting are a game, they don't know that it takes courage."

After the meeting, Kadir came home so annoyed that he could hardly see in front of his feet and he met Shama who was in a talkative mood, as usual. "How are you?" Shama asked. "You look like fire, tell me what happened!" "Nothing unusual;" said Kadir going up to his room. "Damned murderers!" he complained to himself, "Isn't it enough that I destroyed my future by getting involved in this hell? I was captured and tortured by the dissidents, the regime has me on their black list. How stupid I've been! I thought I would find happiness and justice with these crazy people!" "Hairless wants our blood," he sighed. "Now I've given my word and I can't back out, what an ass I've been, what have I done to myself! I've missed out on so much that was important to me. Now it's all too late. I can never get back what I've missed out on!" Just at that moment other thoughts occurred to him on what it must look like at the front. "It will be the first time!" He was worried by the thought and felt fear about being drafted. "They have my life, it isn't mine anymore, what can I expect?"

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Several nights later he sat at home when he heard the news on the Peshmerga radio that reservists and volunteers should report to the Peshmerga base within twenty-four hours. He looked for a pack of cigarettes. He soon found one but finally he was able to light up and old butt. "May God not subject my worst enemy to such conditions! There is no excuse for me to get out of it, now I have to stand on my word! He regretted that he had been so hasty in volunteering in front of Hairless. "And now it's too late to back out again!" Kadir felt queasy in his stomach. He felt he was being dragged down a slope.

Finally he fell asleep and dreamed that he was standing in front of Alan's house in Baghdad.

It was dark, silent and quiet and the whole neighbourhood was fast asleep. He rang the bell and had to wait a long time before Alan opened it. Alan was surprised, paled and said coldly: "What are you doing here, what misery, what are we to do now? Get out of here!" But Kadir went inside and Merem and the kids woke up, all of them looking at him in astonishment while their gaze slowly turned to Kadir's rifle and ammunition but they didn't say anything. Kadir felt wounded and offended by their cool reception. He said in a low voice: "I who longed to see you, I wanted to be embraced by you and I counted the days and nights till I would be able to meet you again. Now I see that instead you are driving me away, I who thought you would be glad to see me again. I who risked my life!" Alan got up and came up to Kadir, shouting: "Imagine if anyone saw you in the neighbourhood! There are scads of people who like to report others! We don't want any problems, what do you think will happen to us if they see an armed Peshmerga in our house? Beat it, for God's sake!" Suddenly there was a lot of noise and the security police stormed into the house. Kadir quickly ran out through the back door into the neighbour's yard and fled from there for his life. He ran straight into a gun battle and tried to return the fire but his rifle wouldn't fire. He looked at it and discovered that it was a plastic toy. He became desperate and threw down his weapon and ran as fast as he could

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but the soldiers pursued him. Suddenly he took off from the ground and slowly drifted up into the clouds.

When Kadir woke up after the dream he was sweaty all over his body. He slowly looked around him. He quickly got out of bed. His face was tense and colourless, he was waiting for Raza to come so he put on his clothes and lay down on the bed and went back to sleep.

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In July the heat was at its worst and the temperature was continuously rising. The heat had already dried up all the vegetation and live leaves or wild flowers were seldom seen. In the daytime most of the townspeople stayed indoors and only went out if it was absolutely necessary. For the farmers working in the field every day this was quite a struggle. All the women, men and children were there in the burning sun helping with the harvest. The war went on and there wasn't even the slightest hope that there would be any peace in these parts. Not a day passed without fighting, even on the religious holidays explosions and weapons could be heard going off. Blood flowed and no one could stop it. The combatants fought out an eternal struggle and slaughtered each other but not as victors and vanquished. In every battle many lives were risked. One day things went well for the one side and another day things went well for the other party.

Shirin had cried out as if she had been bitten by a snake when she understood that Raza would have to report for fighting. "No, this can't be true!" She hugged Raza and tears ran down her cheeks. "You can hide for a few days," she said, "And then it will be too late!" "I don't have any choice, they need people at the front! How can I refuse to take part in the fighting? What will the consequences be? This damned constant killing is like a monster like a black cloud that only rains fear and terror over my head. I didn't want to have anything to do with the killing, but I have no choice!" Shirin had felt a wave of nausea sweep over her and she was as white as a sheet. "To whom can we turn?" she cried and hugged Raza. "May God curse those who invented guns!" "What can I do now?" said Raza. "What can I say? How can I convince them? I'm consumed by love and everything goes black when I see the rifle hanging on the wall.

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If only I dared tell them straight to their faces, calmly and clearly: "I don't give a damn about your war and your weapons, I won't join! Be considerate of my love!" "Why do they want to separate us?" asked Shirin, in tears. "Don't they have any conscience, haven't they heard that God's wrath strikes those that separate lovers?" "Life is full of people who are dying to be able to fire their rifles. Killing is for them just as normal as eating or drinking water!" "Can't they leave us alone?" Shirin looked around her in terror as if someone cold read her thoughts or if someone had heard what she said.

Night fell and at home with Raza one could hear the silence. The atmosphere was like they were holding a wake. Everyone was deeply immersed in their own thoughts. Spontaneous and obvious joy had turned into worry and fear. The news spread throughout the village and it wasn't long before friends and relatives came to call. All of them sat on the mattresses that lay about the yard. Halima served tea and after a moment's silence Mullah Hama spoke. He was an experienced man who weighed his words before he said anything. He told stories of people and religion. People liked to hear him speak. "I detest all of this insanity," he said slowly and clearly in a voice filled with emotion. No one fears God any longer. The fear of God has left our hearts. We no longer feel any sympathy. Everything has grown dark before our eyes and we cannot see. God has created us all different and we are all the children of God, why can't anyone see that? Why can't we share with each other instead of destroying each other? We are all alone in the face of God, alone in our hearts Kurds, Arabs, Persians, Turks." Everyone listened tensely to Mullah Hama who went on: "Every moment of our life has turned into death and resurrection, I prefer to die in God's hand rather than to live among ignorant people. We don't dare to raise our eyes and see the truth with our own eyes or to bear witness to our opinion. My son would be alive if there had not been any civil war." He looked for a handkerchief and dried his eyes. "And now I have another one at the front! God forgive us. Help us to bear the sorrow in our hearts!" Silent tears that could not be held back fell down on his grey beard: "We must see God in our hearts. What he has decreed no man may change. Everything is written in our forehead. No one dies without the Great One up there having decided on it." He turned to Raza:

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"Do you hear, Raza? My son, you who are like a son to me. I pray to God that he will be with you. Youth is beautiful. Sometimes one has to do things that one feels are wrong. This is awful but you are young and have your whole life ahead of you. We pray for you, that you will come back unhurt. You will. You needn't worry! Not everyone is killed or wounded in a battle. you have God with you!"

Time passed and they drank tea and talked about everything between heaven and earth. When it was late in the evening Mullah Hama tried to get up but he couldn't. Raza helped him get up and the others all got up at the same time. "I'll pray for you, that God may be with you. Now I must go home." "This is also your home. you can stay and sleep here." "No, my son we must all leave you alone. You must be alone with your beloved Shirin. You surely have much to talk about." They others hurried off home and left the newly wed couple by themselves.

The two spouses sat alone for a long time, filled with sorrow and enthralled by the dark thoughts that went around in their heads. for Shirin as well, this was a question of life and death, of her future, her loneliness, her yearning for him when it became clear that they would be separated from each other the next day. Raza would bear his rifle and disappear from her line of vision. "No, it's a disgrace to the human race," she thought, "to separate lovers. How can they do this?" They sat for a long time in each other's embrace. When night finally came Raza lay next to Shirin. She lay huddled up in bed with her legs pressed against her body. She gently loosened her clothes and untied the bun in her hair. Raza overwhelmed Shirin with soft kisses and with a sorrowful gaze she drew him to her. She held him tight. They embraced each other in desperation. With a sudden movement they came together in a vain attempt to stop the world. For a short while reality was kept at bay.

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The next day Raza awoke before sunrise and carefully extricated himself from Shirin's embrace. He got up and put his clothes on and went up to his rifle hanging on the wall. Everything felt funny to him, an emptiness, a moment of confusion mixed with uncertainty swelled through him. Shirin was sleeping soundly like an innocent baby. After a while he took his rifle down from the wall and before he left he turned to catch a

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last glimpse of Shirin. Just then she woke up, quickly got up and threw herself into Raza's arms, crying disconsolately. "Are you leaving without saying goodbye?" The hugged tightly and kissed each other. She cried so loud that Raza thought the neighbours would be able to hear it. "Let me go my way," he said, his voice choking with tears. "I can't manage saying goodbye." Just at this moment Halima rushed out into the yard and banged on the door. "Open up, Raza, are you leaving without saying goodbye to your mother?" With plenty of tears they parted and Raza walked through the village in the direction of Halabja.

He was so immersed in his thoughts that it was impossible to come into contact with him. He cursed his fate and wondered why he had been born just in this precise country. "What an idiot I am," he said to himself. "I'm leaving her and why am I doing it? Let the Peshmergas throw me into prison, kill me, what have I to do with the country's problems?" He trod along with a heavy gait and his thoughts were coloured with disappointment. "I should have given up everything in order to be close to my beloved." he reproached himself. "I should have abandoned my country, my people. Where in hell am I headed for? My place is with her. She is my soul and my darling, the air I breathe she is my country and my people, she is the only one that means anything to me. To hold her in my arms, to be allowed to comb her long hair with my fingers. What do I care about the world, it can get along without me. I'll go crazy from longing." He felt an impulse to turn back but he controlled it and continued on.

In Halabja a strong cold wind was blowing, the sky had slowly brightened up and people began to come out to say their morning prayers. Raza knocked on the door. Shama was awake and slowly opened the door. "Is it you, Raza?" she said in surprise. "Yes, it's me. I've come to get him. Where's Kadir?"

Kadir was not used to getting up this early. He snapped at Raza: "This is a hell of a time to come and wake me up!"

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He slowly got out of bed and started to dress. He regretted having behaved so stupidly to Raza and patted him on the shoulder and said: "Now we're on our way to hell, I mean to Tawela." Shama held them up saying: "You can't leave here without eating breakfast!"

With their stomachs full they went straight through town in the direction of Tawela near the Iranian border. They were deathly silent, only their footsteps could be heard. They walked on, immersed in their thoughts and dragged themselves forward, the sweat running down their bodies and cooling off afterwards. They passed many scenic places, mountain tops, cliffs and valleys covered with pretty and fragrant flowers. Raza's thoughts were entirely absorbed with Shirin. His longing for her was so strong that he was once again ready to abandon everything just for her sake. Kadir chain-smoked and began singing the sad Kurdish songs. He stopped when he heard a bird's lovely singing far away in a dried out tree and he stopped: "Listen, Raza, do you hear how beautifully she sings!" Raza was not receptive to the song of birds, his thoughts being obsessed with Shirin and his yearning for her increasingly weighing down on his soul. He responded very tersely. Kadir showed his understanding: "Don't worry, Raza," he said. "I don't think well take part in fighting at the front. We belong to the reserve unit. I recently heard from Hairless that we are free to go home. "How can I not be worried," said Raza, irritated. "In my eyes everything is meaningless and looks dead, I have a feeling in me that I'm on my way to my own death. Where am I going? Life without love is not worth anything, it is love that provides life with meaning! Not war or death." About half-way there, Kadir stopped and said: "I'm exhausted and starving, I can't take another step." He pulled Raza and said: "I can't go any further." They carefully put their rifles on the ground and unwound their cartridge belts. Kadir took out the bag of food and sat down alongside a cold spring of water. "Take it easy, my dear brother," he said, putting the bag of food in front of Raza. "Here you are!" Having such a good appetite by now they quickly ate up all the unleavened bread and the fresh onions. After a short while they washed their faces meticulously with cold water, something that cheered them up a little. Then they got up and shook the sand off their clothes, put their cartridge belts back on and continued their journey. Kadir was

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silent for a long while and he felt a strong sense of longing. Longing for a woman. His anxiety came to the surface and he reproached himself for the life he had chosen. Raza was walking so fast that Kadir couldn't keep up. "You are walking as if you were taking part in a marathon race. Do you know what awaits us at the Peshmerga base? Dirty mattresses and unswept barracks with loads of annoying insects. Slow down on the slopes, Raza!"

The afternoon sun shone high in the sky. The heat was near its zenith and the sweat was dripping as they walked. Raza knew this area like the back of his own hand. When he saw the steep cliff that remained to be passed he stopped. "That steep cliff there," Raza pointed at it, "If we pass it then we'll be there before nightfall."

Towards evening Kadir and Raza had gotten where they were going. They were so tired that they could hardly feel the hunger in their stomachs. Captain Farok, the group commander, came up to them. He was in a good mood and shook hands with them. "Welcome, my lion cubs. Your beds are waiting for your exhausted legs. There's rice and white beans. Eat as much as you want!"

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A rumour was going the rounds that the Peshmergas had sustained major defeats, that the army had captured several important mountain tops that could interfere with the Peshmergas' movement and activities and that the Peshmergas now needed reinforcements at the front. It was said that there were many Iranian military vehicles near the border. They were willing to take the Peshmergas wherever they wanted to go. Thanks to this they could mobilise more quickly and drive back the army.

Early in the morning, Captain Farok walked towards the barracks. In his raucous voice he called out: "Yalla, yalla, we haven't got the whole day. We haven't come here to sleep, everyone should keep themselves in readiness." All the Peshmerga soldiers got up and strung their weapons and cartridge belts over their bodies. After breakfast they spread out around the barracks in small groups. They were aware that the old Peshmerga war was over and that it was now a war between two equal parties with complicated weapons. All of them were tense and looked worried, they were silent and immersed in their thoughts, none of them was able or willing to

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openly say what they felt. Some of them wanted to laugh off their fear, others talked incessantly about previous battles and the number of dead and wounded. All of them felt that their opinions were very important and arguments, irritation and petulant voices were heard here and there whenever other people's interpretations or viewpoints did not correspond with their own. There was a constant struggle going on among the Peshmerga soldiers on who should be allowed to say what he thought and be given more space. Many were on their guard, they weighed every word before they pronounced it in order not to cause any unnecessary arguments.

Raza was silent and looked sad. This didn't quite fit him, the happy and simple lad had been totally extinguished and Kadir, who was sitting next to him, left him alone. When Raza heard Ahmad's name mentioned in the discussion he raised his head for an instant but then quickly returned to his brooding.

Cross Eyed was distantly related to black Nasim and he never forgot what Ahmad had done to Nasim. He hated Ahmad and his successes with the Peshmerga were like a thorn in his side. He slandered Ahmad as soon as he got the chance to. "How is it," asked Cross Eyed, "that an inexperienced kid could get so far? To be a member of the top leadership where the leader has so much respect for him." "He's the youngest among them," said another, "Some of them have good luck, they're born with a silver spoon in their mouth." "Why shouldn't one believe what's said about him," an older man interrupted them. "True, he's young but he's brave, he has fought and hasn't been given anything for nothing. I remember when he first came to us, I told myself: 'Another little brat, they think they've opened a kindergarten here for anyone running away from home.' At first he was given guard duty but he soon showed what he was worth." All of them standing around the man listened to him. "We got involved in a battle," the grey-haired man continued. "Ahmad stood up and fired like crazy and I shouted at him: 'Lay low, they'll blow your head off!' but he only nodded and went on shooting." The grey-haired man shook his head and smiled: "I think God created him for war, he's a good shot and can hit everything he sees. you feel safe with someone like that, he inspires confidence." He took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and asked if anyone had a light. One of the younger ones lit his cigarette for him.

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"What I admire about him is that he's silent, almost invisible. He does his job and doesn't talk about it, I've noticed that the other leaders don't do a tenth of what he does but they brag and talk about it for a long time." "How many has he killed in all these years?" "You shouldn't think that he's a murderer," the grey-haired man interrupted again. "No, he isn't, he's just a loyal Peshmerga. He has good morals, he's never shot a prisoner of war, he's not the type that kills just for the sake of killing but in battle he kills up to his last bullet." The grey-haired man looked at the bulky Peshmerga that had spoken so ill of Ahmad and said, calmly and clearly: "You don't know him, you're just envious of his successes. He isn't a kid, it's rare a man like him gets born. Besides being a fighter, he also avenged his father's death." "But I think Hairless is braver than Ahmad," said Cross Eyed. "He's cold and has no conscience. His eyes are like fire and he inspires fear in people, you don't dare look him in the eye. He's a better shot than Ahmad, he can hit a flying bird with a single bullet. There's never been a man like him born before. He's a genius and a brave hard working Peshmerga leader who knows the mountain region like the back of his own hand." The grey-haired man, irritated at Cross Eyed, interrupted him: "Listen, a person like Hairless can't just be found on the street, he has to be able to offer something, that's why he's powerful and has influence, don't you grasp that, young man? And the same applies to Ahmad!" Cross Eyed said nothing but inside of him he was boiling with rage. Kadir saw this and felt that the situation had gotten critical so he intervened in the debate and calmed things down. "It's all the same shit who's the bravest or not," said Kadir. "The important thing is that we're on our way." "What difference does that make," said the grey-haired man. "There's a war going on in our country. If I'm not killed as a Peshmerga I might just be killed in bed. In war there's no guarantee of survival. I'll live a short life, but I'll live like a real man!" "It's best not to think at all about what might happen," said one Peshmerga. He gave the appearance of being very much afraid even though he sat up straight and spoke in a loud voice. "It's a matter of my life," said Kadir, "The greatest thing I have." "Our lives, the greatest thing we have," the grey-haired man sneered, "They only cost a bullet in these parts, the cheapest thing there is." Somebody said: "You're absolutely right, a life isn't worth anything nowadays!"

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"We may be stupid," the grey-haired man went on, "but we're not blind." He stared at the men around him with his big eyes and then said in a gentle voice: "Among us, many will lose their lives, which ones is something that only God in heaven can answer. This is our reality, whether we want it or not." "When does the battle start?" the grey-haired man laughed. "I'm starting to long for it!" "You're lying up to your ears," Cross Eyed shouted. "You think you have an answer to everything. You've been a Peshmerga for ten years but you've never been promoted, if you weren't sitting among us now you would have been a captain but you are still a simple Peshmerga like all the others!" The grey-haired man felt insulted. He lunged at Cross Eyed but those standing around held him back. "Let me go, I'll kill that bastard!" "Let him go, he hasn't even killed a chicken!" Captain Farok went mad when he came out and saw the argument going on. "Calm down, for God's sake, you are adults, if you want to fight, do it later, not now!"

Raza was depressed and completely absorbed in his own worries. "What's wrong with you, Raza?" Kadir asked, patting Raza on the shoulders. "You're as silent as a stone wall. Tell me, what's bothering you?" "Nothing special." Raza shook his head and went on in a low voice: "I feel like a stranger here. I don't recognise myself among all these armed men who just can't wait to take part in combat. I only feel and hear how death comes and hammers at my eardrums. Look at the automatic rifles. In a matter of seconds they can cause someone's death. Just look at all those strong men carrying cartridges from their hands to their feet. God only knows how many times they've climbed up and down the endless mountain cliffs. We've lost our grip on what life is!" His voice cracked: "I won't get out of here alive!" "Bullshit. How do you know that? Do you think you're God?" "I just have a feeling," said Raza. "The feeling haunts me, it won't let me go. It's combat and some of us won't return. It's written in the stars but I have a feeling that I'm among them. Who arranged this hell?" "It's not our business to think about that," Kadir said. "Right now we're here and we'll soon be involved in combat, we have to wait and see what happens. Who says we're

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needed at all, we belong to the reserves and only a few real Peshmergas are here, we may soon be heading home again." "I don't think so," said Raza, "Now that the regime has inflicted such major defeats on the Peshmergas and is close to capturing the Peshmerga headquarters. I regret now that I didn't flee or that I wasn't delayed. I didn't listened to my mother and let her have me exempted. She gave me her advice and I didn't listen to it. 'Let us flee to Baghdad and live with uncle Alan,' she said but I didn't even listen to her. But I couldn't do that, what would I have done without Shirin, I chose to stay and I never thought that one day the Peshmerga reserves would be needed. I should have known better but my love made me blind!"

Farok gave his men the order and one after another they went through the town of Tawela towards the Iranian border, a mere half-hour's walk before they got there. "Do you see those lorries parked there," said Farok, "We'll soon be driving with them through Iranian territory, that saves both time and energy." "Quite right so," the men said, "We'd only be totally exhausted if we went the whole way on foot."

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Hairless was well known in these parts and simply his name sufficed to terrify people. Rumours about his affairs with women were a favourite subject for conversation. Hairless had gotten older but he was just as strict. His voice was still powerful and in his serious dark eyes there was always a touch of calculating curiosity. At the border the Peshmergas split up into small groups to await their departure. Time passed and they became more and more impatient. Every now and then the complaint was heard: "What are we waiting for, we're just sitting here and nothing is happening.

It was late after noontime when a Landrover appeared and braked abruptly when it arrived. Everyone turned to it. Hairless and his bodyguards got out of the car and everyone got up and welcomed them. After a while everyone had gathered around him. "I pray to God," said Hairless, "that you'll come back unscathed to your families and your children! We have been forced to enter into an unjust war and we have to defend ourselves against the barbarian forces that only kill and destroy. The regime has bombed our towns and villages to pieces. We have to defend ourselves as we have been doing for

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years. Struggle is our only option, if we lose, everyone loses. What little respect the people have they have the Peshmergas to thank for. Without the Peshmergas we are not worth anything. God knows," he said, waving his finger, "that if it was not for the sake of the leadership I would have chosen to be a part of it myself. But now that's not possible." He was surprised when he saw Kadir in the crowd and he stared at him a little bit more before continuing: "All of you know me in one way or another, it's been a long time since I was in combat. Believe me, I really miss that, who else has the honour of being given such an opportunity! What an honour to be killed with your weapon in your hand! The only thing I can say is that those of us in the leadership have always been proud of you and appreciate your indispensable sacrifices. You are our hope and our pride and the knights of our revolution. Welcome to our just struggle!" He raised his voice: "Our holy war is against the criminals and child killers who rule the country, we will teach the enemy a lesson it will never forget. Our forces have already shown them that we are not be trifled with. We have beaten off all of the regime's attacks in an attempt to recapture our liberated zones. We have killed large numbers of soldiers and we have already sacrificed thousands of martyrs who have found their place in our hearts. Their names are forever inscribed in history! The whole world will know that we don't give up and that we will sacrifice our lives if necessary!"

Hairless shook and waved his big hands. He groaned and shouted and stamped harder and harder with his feet until the sweat ran down over his freshly shaven face. It was getting hotter and hotter as the sun rose in the sky and this finally brought him to end his speech: "Good luck to you. Go now and God be with you, we are expecting you to fight bravely!" Everyone rushed to get into the lorries that had long been standing still. Captain Farok's loud shouting and crying could be heard clearly: "Hurry up, hurry up!" Captain Farok was restless and could not stand still anywhere. He walked around with rapid steps. He had a venomous tongue and insulted most of the men in his unit. His words were frequently sharp like knives. He was moody and his moods changed fast. As far as the Peshmerga war was concerned he was an experienced veteran. He knew everything and knew what to do and not do. He had been around a long time without having had a scratch inflicted on him.

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Dark fell and the light from the lorries' headlamps swept across the road. They were hardly able to see anything in front of them, an atmosphere of silence reigned that no one wanted to breach. They tried to sleep or to rest. All of the lorry platforms were packed full of Peshmerga soldiers, they even sat in the driver's cabin. They soon lost their sense of smell and ceased to care about the sour fragrance of dried sweat and unbrushed teeth. The lorries drove fast over bumpy Iranian roads and the soldiers were jostled back and forth.

After six hours of uninterrupted driving they arrived early the next morning, tired and exhausted. The lorries stopped and everyone got out. The took out their simple food bags with bread and Spanish onions. When they had finished eating there was an assembly and Captain Farok spoke: "It's great that everything went as it was supposed to so that we avoided having to walk this whole way. Otherwise it would have taken us a week or two. Thank God that it went so well. But now we're closer to where things get serious. Hurry up now, we have a lot to do, the fun is over. We are now close to the Iraqi border where we have been heading. We have to go by foot and it will take at most four hours. It'll go fast, as you'll see!" After a half-hour's rest they gathered again and began to walk in single file through the inaccessible mountain area seldom trodden by human beings. The path up the mountain wall was so narrow that they had to go carefully and take special care that they didn't fall down and get crushed against the sides of the mountain. The walked one after another, Kadir staying a few steps behind Raza. It was hard going with all the things they had with them, weapons and ammunition and with the sun burning down on their necks. The temperature rose and dug into them with its sharp claws. It felt as if their brains were boiling.

Raza went ahead and his steps became increasingly heavy. Sweat ran but quickly dried in. He was close to slipping and falling several times. For him, this was the first time he had been out on such a hike and he cursed Hairless and himself for having volunteered. He stopped and looked at Kadir who was likewise on the verge of collapsing. "How are things with you, do you need any help?" "I'm almost finished," he whispered, "How much further do we have, I can't go on much more than this!" "I don't know, maybe an hour or two, how should I know that, this is the first time I've ever been in these parts." "No," Kadir said, "I can't take another step!"

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"You have to," Raza cut him off, "You don't have any choice. If Captain Farok sees you he would have another opportunity to chew you out for being the student leader that can't manage a simple hike but has such a big mouth!" "The hell with him, and with me too for having gotten into this situation." Kadir got up and in some way or other felt that he was forced to go on.

For Captain Farok the hike was as simple as drinking water, he liked hiking and was one of the few who had survived Peshmerga life for so long that he was like a cat with nine lives. He looked at his men and a few of the younger boys reminded him of himself when he was younger. He remembered how he completely lost his self-control the first time he saw corpses and wounded men covered with blood and he remembered how he was confronted by anger and suspicious looks from other Peshmergas when he became as pale as a ghost and vomited at the sight of such things. "We don't mourn, only women do that." "Some time has to be the first time," said Captain Farok, "But after a few battles you can handle fear and you get used to those conditions." He was the same person as before but now he could hop over the dead and wounded as if he were jumping hurdles. He had become hardened: Farok did not feel satisfied with his men and frequently stopped for a while and waited so they could catch up. He cursed them and shouted out loud and frequently talked to himself. "What a lot of brats and these are my troops. God only knows where they found them!" He often had acid comments to make if someone couldn't keep up. When Kadir passed by, he said: "What's wrong with our student leader, can't you make it any further? I see that you're having difficulties. Obviously, you students have problems with excursions like this!" "My shoes are bad for my feet and it's so windy," Kadir said. "Can I stop for a moment, I might be able to wrap my shawl around the wound?" "Of course," said Farok in a friendly manner, and he cast a glimpse of his troops and shouted out: "By nightfall we will arrive at the command headquarters, with the help of God. I hope we'll have an opportunity of resting and eating properly before we go on the offensive."

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Everyone lay on the ground or tried to find a bush in the bare yellow-coloured mountains. After a short period of rest they gathered again and continued their hiking. They climbed up the winding narrow mountain paths and it wasn't long before Kadir was so tired that he couldn't even think. They went on and for every step they took they got thirstier and hungrier. They became so exhausted that they blocked out their surroundings; no anger, no rage, no good thoughts or bad thoughts. All that was heard was the tramping of feet along the bushes and stones as the tired men continued on their way forward. During the entire journey they had not met a single human being, not even one that had got lost. When a village finally appeared, Kadir breathed a sigh of relief and felt greatly relieved.

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The village consisted of about ten stone houses up on a mountain. It had existed as long as people cold remember. Every year the same thing happened, when the snow came they were cut off from the rest of the world until spring arrived and the snow started to melt. Many of them had never set foot in a town. Every now and then they might drive to a town to sell their products and to shop for supplies for the winter. They raised animals, planted a little for their own use and recovered sap from rubber trees. The village had neither a mosque nor a school or a hospital. The authorities seemed to have forgot about them and such inaccessible villages had always been a safe haven for many people, particular in time of war. They used to live in love and harmony and were spared wars and riots. They had their own customs and marriage was for them a type of living together. The consent of the parents didn't count. The couple in love ran away and sought shelter with some family in the vicinity. The family protected the runaways like their own children until some solution was found. Normally some symbolic sum had to be paid to the family or to the spouse that had been abandoned. No one needed to feel dishonoured or hurt because a wife or a daughter had run away. If a woman ran away, the husband did not have to hang himself from sorrow. He tried in some peaceful way to convince his wife to return. It had been known to happen that a woman had run away with all the men in the village and been married to all of them - one by one. Often, for married women, such runaway escapades were just a brief love affair before her husband succeeded in getting her back again. When mothers got into an argument with their unmarried daughters they would tease them: "You're not a real woman, you haven't found any man to run away with. you'll never find anyone to be fond of you. You'll die a virgin." It was hard for most of the Peshmergas who had been living in abstinence for a long time to pass through this

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area without trying out the green grass there. Everyone had heard about this special tradition and certainly many Peshmergas wanted to stop off there.

Captain Farok was one of the few who knew the whole area. He knew these people and knew how they thought and he knew their customs. He gathered his troops and spoke to them in a clear and unmistakeable tone of voice: "I have orders from the higher ups to see to it that no Peshmerga gets involved in the villagers lifestyle or tries to take advantage of the situation. One thing you have to know and that is we are just passing through. I dont want any scandals. Everybody has to behave. Life here is different than what we are used to. I don't want any of you to try to run away with a village girl or woman. Do you understand what I mean?" The men grinned. "Does Captain Farok think we'll be kidnapped by the women?" "That would be quite a nice kidnapping!" "How and where can we be kidnapped?" Captain Farok got angry and quickly interrupted them: "How they live is not our business," he shouted out loud. "We only thank them for their hospitality." "Are they good in bed too, Captain?" "Shut up," Captain Farok shouted. "Any bastard that breaks the law will have to deal with me. I swear on my son's grave that I'll see to it that he rots in the dungeon. There he'll be able to see with his own eyes what I can do to him. I don't want to see anyone of you there. You have to show them respect, we're their guests!"

That day when all the Peshmergas came with their automatic rifles the villagers were quite surprised. Perhaps it was the first time that so many strange men came at once. The entire village rushed out and gave the Peshmergas a warm welcome and it wasn't long before the troops split up into small groups and entered the houses. Kadir, Raza and several others went together to one house where they were received by the family that constantly repeated: "Please, feel at home!" They were served teat and then invited to have some soft unleavened bread with fresh cheese and yoghurt whipped up in water. The men shovelled down the food in huge gulps and ate it all up in only a few minutes. When their hunger was satisfied they felt exhausted and tired and would gladly have gone to sleep where they sat. The family asked if they needed any bags of food. "No, thank you, we're full," Raza replied.

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There was a short silence and the family felt both glad and curious to have so many guests. Never before had so many people set foot in their house. Raza broke the silence. He turned to one of the children: "Come here, my little friend. Tell me what your name is, and how old you are?" "My name is Khalid." He was silent a while and then said: "I don't know how old I am, ask my papa!" "How should I know," the father replied, "I never thought of it. I have eight kids, five girls and three boys."

Captain Farok's voice was easily recognised when he shouted out: "Assembly! We're moving on. We have no time to lose!" Kadir got up and slung his rifle over his shoulder and together with Raza he went out . They troops only needed a few minutes to assemble and to march off.

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Several days had passed. Halima had been crying for a long time and her long uncombed hair was moist from her tears. She was terrified that something could happen to Raza. All of her thoughts revolved around Raza and she forgot her husband who had been missing for weeks without anyone having heard form him. One could easily see how fear was reflected in her lovely sad eyes. This woman, normally so full of love and devotion, was changed. She was so crushed by anxiety that she could hardly stay on her feet. She cried uncontrollably and could neither eat nor sleep properly. She read hymns the whole time and asked God to protect her son who was on his way to the front. Halima had grown up with fear; suffering and tribulations were a part of everyday living and ruled her life. Nonetheless, she was generous and giving of herself. Under her spread-out wings Raza had found warmth and security. She had struggled. She had taken care of Raza and the farm all by herself. She had hardly had a moment of rest and not even in the evenings could she feel safe or secure or free of her responsibilities.

This early morning Halima was jittery when she sat on her flowery hand-knit barmal for her morning prayers. She sang her prayer with such an elegant, emotional and moving voice that even a heart of stone would melt if it could hear her. "God, you are my first and last recourse, worry is my constant uninvited guest that is slowly turning my life into one big tribulation. Why have we, of all people, been drawn into this whirlwind of troubles. you are my only great consolation and support, I

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have you and I find peace in my belief in you. My patience is at an end of its endurance, I can't take any more adversity, I haven't missed a single prayer or a single day of Ramadan, I have been your true servant. Protect my son, he is the only person I have! Put light in my stupid husband's head so that he doesn't meddle in other people's affairs, he has a heart that is pure and lovely like gold."

Shirin who had moved in with Halima while waiting for Raza to return sat with the Koran in her hand and read from it. She couldn't hold her tears back. They slowly ran down her colourless cheeks. Pain grew like a mountain in her heart. The prayer was her only way of enduring the pain inside her. After the prayer, Halima got up and went up to Shirin. "Don't worry," she said, "He up there listens to us. God hears our cries and nothing will happen to Raza. He will soon be home, God is great and merciful. Don't worry, everything is written on the forehead and no one can change it. God is responsible for our actions and our life and we can't do anything without the Great One's consent. He is the one who decided how everything will be." Shirin raised her head and said: "My world has crashed." Her eyes welled up with tears again and a few silent tears fell on her dress. In a choking voice Shirin began to talk incoherently and her words were hardly intelligible: "I'll die if anything happens to him! I can't live without him not even a second I abandoned my family for him. He is everything I have in life. Oh, dear God, Great God, why me why can't you help us? Why don't you put out the fire that burns down here? When will you help us?" "Accept God's blessing," Halima interrupted her. "God's will will be done What can we do? You, my dear girl, look so unhappy and sad. I'm sure he'll return. I have a feeling that he'll only be away a week, two weeks - then he'll return. Be consoled, my girl, he'll return he will. You can live with us while he's gone. Relax, don't worry, my daughter." Shirin wanted to say something but held back. She went on reading the Koran and Halima went out to the kitchen to make some tea.

As lunchtime approached and the sun was high and the heat unbearable and only a few people were out and about the neighbourhood, Nala, Shama's husband, came home. for weeks he had been seeking permission to get his family and now he had a week's time to take them with him to Baghdad. Nala became stiff as if he had been bitten by a snake when he got to his house. He stood there, looking at the ruins and his heart was on the

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verge of breaking when he saw that the house had been razed to the ground. He stood there for a long time and it seemed that he was dreaming when he was awakened by Toana. "Papa!" he cried out and threw himself in his arms. "Have you bought me any presents?" Nala hugged his son for a long time and tears appeared in his eyes. "Yes, my darling. Where's mama?" Toana pointed to Kadir's house and said: "Come, papa, let's go home!" Toana ran off. "Mama, papa has come back. Give me ten fils." Shama gave him a coin and he ran out on the street. "Is it you?" she burst out, starting to cry at the same time. "Do you know what has happened? We lost our home but thank God we weren't killed!" "I thank God that nothing has happened to you!" His sisters pushed Toana away, they clung to their father. "How are my sons in Baghdad," Shama asked, "Are they okay?" "Yes, they are working and earn more than their papa does. I'm exhausted and thirsty, the heat practically killed me." Shama called out to one of her daughters. "What are you staring at? Hurry up and get some cold water!" She turned to Nala: "Do you know how much the kids have been longing for you, talking the whole time about you and their brothers. How nice that you've come to get us, finally we can move to Baghdad. We have nothing left here!" Nala felt in a hurry, he said in a clear voice: "I want us to move away from here," he said, "But not just now, I can't afford it. Do you know how much it costs to rent a room in Baghdad? It costs an arm and a leg, my whole wage goes for rent. What are we supposed to live on? Do you know that we live in a barracks and that we often eat bread with tea and yoghurt and only every now and then a meal with meat." "Now we have the chance to move away from this damned area," said Shama. "If that's not the case, then why did you come," she wondered. "To see you, and when I go back in a week I'll say that the Peshmergas kept me from getting my family." Shama shook her head and said: "You good-for-nothing, do you intend to leave us by ourselves again?"

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"Dear Shama, not now again, we'll talk about it later on, tell me, where's Kadir?" "He's on his way to the front, may God be with him, he's a pearl and we should be thankful for our whole life that we can live with them, me and my brats." Just then the neighbours came in and congratulated her on Nala's return and they had lots of questions and comments to make. "When did people get the chance to go and when was the road closed most often?" Omar came in and Nala got up and rushed up to him. Omar asked if he had heard anything about Amina or uncle Alan. Nala kept silent and mumbled something that Omar didn't quite grasp and he became fearful that something had happened. "What did you say, Nala, tell me!" "I have to watch my tongue, I'm an ordinary construction worker and I don't want to have any problems. In Baghdad life is as normal as ever, they live exactly as they did before and the way you perhaps do in the daytime. They talk and its always about the war. How many have been killed, and which ones." Omar interrupted him and said: "Don't wiggle out of it, Nala, I asked you the customary question, how are they, have you seen them, are they doing alright?" "I have bad news. Little Brother was sentenced to twenty years in prison." "What for?" "They say that he spat on a portrait of the president in school and he was close to getting hanged but thank God it was only prison they gave him. Alan is doing well, he's very nice to us, we are allowed to do piecework and get paid well, but then to we have to work hard." "How do you know it was Little Brother, haven't you confused him with someone else?" "No, just as surely as my name is Nala. Mahmod has been arrested to, someone who was released was together with him." "You don't say!" "He may be sentenced for smuggling." "What do you mean, smuggling?" said Omar in astonishment. "Mahmod for smuggling, never, he isn't that kind!" "You heard what I said, he had a lot of letters with him and identity documents and they say that he's admitted being a supporter of the Peshmerga." Omar was so upset that he almost hit the roof. "How in the world! He, of all people, is going to be imprisoned for being a Peshmerga supporter, he hates the Peshmergas as much as he hates the regime."

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"I don't know anything and I don't want to know anything, I have a family and kids and there are so many that like to report people for free, I have to be on my guard. There's nowhere where you're safe. It isn't worth it for me, just for a few words, to end up in prison and maybe be tortured and humiliated. I have a family to support. I've already paid a high price, I lost my home, I don't want to lose my head as well when I go back to Baghdad."

Omar rushed off and went straight away to the village. He was so irritated that he could have burst. It was afternoon and he went to Halima's house. She was relieved to see him. "Omar, is that you?" She got up and obligingly kissed his forehead, hugged him and said: "It's been a long time, how are Nadia and the kids?" "They're well, thank you!" "Have you heard anything about Raza?" she said, bursting out crying. "My son is on his way to the front. I'll die if anything happens to him." Shirin consoled her and said: "God is great, He will protect him." Shirin had changed so much in such a short period of time, it was obvious from her bloodshot eyes that she had done a lot of crying and her unkempt and dishevelled hair hadn't been taken care of the way it used to be. She got a glass of water and asked Omar if he wanted to have anything else and rushed out to the kitchen to make tea. Omar was silent for quite some time, something that was not like him. He was hesitating whether to tell it or not. Halima suspected that he had something on his mind since he had come all this distance, so something must have happened. Finally Omar said: "I have some news of Mahmod!" "About him!" "Yes, he's apparently in prison again, he may even be imprisoned together with Little Brother." "What do you mean, Little Brother, he's a Peshmerga supporter, that troublemaker." Halima stopped talking. Inside her she held back her repressed anger that she wanted to let go of. "I had a feeling that something was going to happen to Mahmod. He's a stubborn, imprudent devil!" She hissed:

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"To expose one's self to danger is a matter for men. I warned him but he just grinned and called me a coward. I warned him and told him he still had pains from Fatso's torture. It seems he enjoys being in prison! I had a feeling that he was locked up somewhere." Halima got up and said: "What a life, I've forgotten everything, customs and habits. Are you hungry, I'll cook something!" "No, the tea will be enough for me," Omar insisted. "But tell me, is it true about that poor kid, Little Brother? Who would have thought this about him?" She burst out crying again. Halima took a deep sigh full of disappointment and all of her old anger came to the surface again. "Don't worry," Omar said, "I have a feeling that he'll be released soon, there must have been some misunderstanding. What do the godless idiots want with an old man like him or a child like Little Brother, they only want to scare them, there'll be an amnesty soon? You needn't feel alone. We, my family, our children, are near you." "You should know something," she said, "that in troubled times like these it would be good to hold on to your cap so that it doesn't blow away. For my dear husband my advice goes in one ear and out the other. He must think very little of us who bear the consequences when he gets imprisoned when we need him the most." Omar tried to open his mouth to defend Mahmod but she cut him off again. "Don't defend him. I've been married to that blockhead that can never assume responsibility for us. I know him better than he knows himself. God can't change him, some sunny day he'll die in prison where he feels at home, which he doesn't do here with me." She looked Omar straight in the eye and said: "Don't defend him! I'll tell you, everything he does he does at our expense. Tell me what his friends and his ideas have done for him other than to create problems? Who has come and asked about him when he was imprisoned for long periods of time? Nobody, except for relatives and close friends." In a voice that was on the verge of tears she expressed what she felt: "I have the right to be angry and enraged with him, I get so upset and disappointed every time I think of why we have suffered through all this and why he isn't with us. My only son is on his way to take part in combat but my husband isn't even with me! He has been in prison or in banishment for the greater part of his life. For an old man that will soon die it would be better to turn to Mekkah rather than talking politics."

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Omar listened with an uneasy feeling because he liked Mahmod and felt sorry seeing him suffer. "Mahmod is kind-hearted and wants to help people." "Don't defend him," Halima repeated with rage in her voice. "Everything that is happening is his fault."

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Towards evening the Peshmergas arrived where they were headed and many other Peshmerga units were already there waiting for the signal to start. They were exhausted and therefore completely without any energy and they could just barely stay on their feet. They threw themselves on the ground and took off their jamdans, the shawl wrapped around their heads and laid them out on the ground to serve as soft pillows. Many of them fell asleep immediately. It wasn't long before bread and Spanish onions were served and the starving soldiers quickly shovelled it down and laid down on the ground again.

After a few hours of rest one of the leaders, Abdol, came from the main leadership, surrounded by his armed bodyguards. Abdol was a well-built and well-dressed middleaged man, his face was whiter than snow and it looked as if he had kept himself protected from the burning sun. He had a German pistol in his holster. Everyone got up and then sat down again, they were silent and many of them were happy to see such a well-known leader as Abdol for the first time. "As you know," Abdol said in a resolute and clear voice, "the fact is that the regime has recently succeeded with several advances. We have to retake lost ground and we're in need of reinforcements. We have waited for this day for a long time and we need your help. Without your brave sacrifices, our hope and our pride are in danger." He fell silent and stared for a long time at all of them before going on: "You, who are responsible for saving the people's honour! You, who are to lead the way in death for our country, you are the great heart of our revolution and our leader!" He spoke and every now and then he raised or lowered his voice and the words flowed out of his mouth. After a speech lasting a half-hour he finished: "God be with you!" Abdol looked at his watch and said that it was late. "I have so much to do at the main headquarters so I have to return. He rushed off to wait for the results of the Peshmergas' sacrifices. Captain Farok walked up and down and cursed.

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"And I who thought that there'd be heavy fighting, the hell with them, to come this far just for three damned sentry posts. And I thought that a difficult assignment was waiting for us! Taking three sentry posts is easier than drinking a glass of water!" With his usual shouting, bawling and swearing he got his troops together: "Listen to me," he said in a loud voice, "You should rest now and in a few hours we'll march off to our assignment. We'll split up into three groups. We'll surround all the damned guard posts on the other side of the mountain and attack simultaneously. I'll give the sign and you'll attack. With the help of God it'll be an easy match, it'll go off like a dance, don't forget that!"

Kadir was totally finished and when he heard about getting a chance to rest he forgot everything, the heat., the insects and even his own name. He lay on the ground next to Raza and fell asleep immediately while Raza sat with his back to a toh tree. He could neither sleep nor think, he felt only emptiness inside him and an indescribable fear started to penetrate his body.

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After resting for a few hours they moved on. Slowly but surely, the men climbed up and down the rocky mountain area towards the guard posts. The light of the moon was their guide. It took them two hours to get there. Dawn was beginning to break through but it was still chilly when Captain Farok instructed his men to surprise the enemy by firing several recoilless antitank rifles just as they attacked the guard posts. The men carrying the antitank rifle prepared to shoot it. When Captain Farok gave the sign they all started to shoot. Everything happened so quickly that the soldiers were taken by surprise and fired in all directions in panic.

During the first round of firing Raza was hit in the head. The bullet entered his forehead and emerged directly from the back of his head. Raza lay lifeless on the rocky ground. His black eyes stared at the sky and blood spurted out colouring the ground red. His gun fell beside him, the untouched ammunition staying where it was on his ammunition belt. No one saw when he fell and no one had yet seen the lifeless corpse. As yet, no one wondered what his staring eyes were trying to see.

Captain Farok shouted at the man with the antitank rifle: "Damn it, you missed, give me the damn thing!" Farok took careful aim at the guard post and fired. He hit the guard post and with that the shooting came to an end. Farok and his unit ran towards the post, shooting. Some of the soldiers held their hands up high, begging: "Don't kill us, we have families and children." Captain Farok gave the order to stop shooting and calmed the captured soldiers down: "We won't kill anyone! All prisoners will be treated well." He turned towards them: "What are you waiting for, bury your dead soldiers and bandage up the wounded!" As quick as a wink, the soldiers took out their shovels and some of them emptied out sandbags that they then put the corpses in. They had to use the guard post as a burial ground and covered up the dead there. The soldiers looked frightened and were covered with dust and blood. They had a feeling they might be shot dead at any moment. Afterwards all the prisoners were rounded up. They covered their faces with their arms when they went down to the gathering point. They could not be sure that they would escape being shot.

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Kadir looked for Raza. He called out his name but got no response. He climbed up and down the mountain face and finally heard someone shout: "Raza is dead!" Everything went blank in front of Kadir and all his energy left him, he just stood there, unable to take a step. Then he mechanically ran towards the point where the voice had called out. He stumbled on the jagged stones. When he saw Raza bathed in his own blood it was as if the sky had fallen on him. His heart was seized with a strong feeling of anguish. Words dried out in his mouth. He didn't know what to do. He raised his hands to his head and called out: "Raza, ro-oh, my dead Raza!"

Cries of victory were heard from the other Peshmergas far away. Several of them laughed and talked out loud as if nothing had happened. They heard the captain speaking: "What a victory," Farok was saying proudly, "We lost one man but we killed over fifty soldiers and many are wounded. We've captured another fifty!" Just at that moment he noticed the men splitting up the war booty amongst themselves. It was forbidden to take personal effects from the dead. Guns and ammunition were proudly shared but not money or other belongings of those who had been killed, tradition did not allow that.

Kadir was so much in shock that he forgot where he was. After a short while he instinctively picked up Raza's dead body on his back and climbed down the mountain. "Stop, Kadir! Stop!" Talib called out. "It's impossible to carry him out of here, I'll cut down a few trees and make a stretcher." Kadir stopped with Raza's body in his arms, waiting for Talib to finish making the stretcher. Blood ran from Raza's wounds and stained Kadir's clothing. Kadir mechanically laid Raza's body on the stretcher and continued on. Silent tears ran down over his dogged face.

Some of the Peshmergas guarded the captured post. Captain Farok and part of the unit led the soldiers taken prisoner off to the gathering point. They climbed up and down the same rocky mountain paths they had taken on their way there and this time it took them over two hours to make the journey. When they got there they laid the stretcher out on the ground. "How did everything go?" the leader asked nervously, "Did you capture the post, Captain Farok?"

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"Yes, we did," Farok answered, "But we lost a Peshmerga." "Only one," said the leader, Abdol, happily, "And I thought we'd lost a lot, only one! May God forgive him, he is our martyr, not many receive the honour of becoming one, his family will be proud of him!"

When the exhausted and despondent soldiers were brought forward, some of them became hysterical and completely lost control of themselves. They begged for mercy and wept uninterruptedly. They threw themselves at Abdol's feet and kissed them. Abdol was annoyed and shouted out: "Stop this, haven't you heard that we don't kill our prisoners? When have we ever done that?" He called out simultaneously to the medical orderlies. "You will be treated like prisoners of war. No one will hurt you." The prisoners were so terrified that they couldn't even understand what Abdol was saying. He saw to it that several of the Peshmergas accompanied the prisoners to the prison camp where many of them had already been collected. Abdol felt relieved and slapped Farok on the back. "Thanks to your hands, Captain Farok, you are worth more than gold only one, and I thought that we'd lose several. Thank the Great God for this victory."

When Abdol saw Raza lying on the stretcher, the sight of his blood dismayed him and he wanted to get rid of the corpse as quick as he could. "Go get a blanket," he said, turning to Kadir and the others: "What the hell are you standing and staring at? Why are you standing there like statues? Get a shovel and dig a worthy grave for our dear martyr." Kadir was shocked, he couldn't believe his ears. He stood there without moving, unable to make a sound. He couldn't grasp what Abdol had meant. It took him quite a while to grasp what this was all about and he said in a voice that he couldn't even recognise himself: "He's my cousin and my friend and we grew up together. I can't let him be buried in these desolate parts. I can't abandon him, not over my dead body!" Suddenly Kadir became furious and he felt like shooting Abdol. Just at that moment Captain Farok came up and approached the leader. Farok was experienced and cunning. He knew what one should do and not do. He knew he could lose his position and spoil his image in front of his own men if he didn't do the right thing in a situation like this. He was an unusual man. He would curse his men out while liking them and he had often risked his life to save someone.

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"I felt a lot for him and I knew his family," Farok said in a subdued voice. "He is a childhood friend of our Colonel Ahmad. Ahmad will be very sad to hear of Raza's death, they were like brothers. Let him be buried at home!" Farok knew the right buttons to press, which was why he mentioned Colonel Ahmad's name. "Who's this bastard," the leader said, pointing at Kadir, "who talks with such a lack of respect?" "He's the son of Brahem, the martyr, and by the way he isn't just any old Peshmerga, he's a student leader and he volunteered. He's a brave person." Farok was silent before continuing: "I think the best thing to do is to send him home, you'll be doing me and all the others a big favour." "If two men had to accompany a corpse back every time we lost a man," Abdol mumbled, "then tell me, Farok, who would be left to fight for us? There's no difference between ground and ground." Abdol shook his head, dissatisfied with the situation. Then he said: "We are all Peshmergas wherever we live or die in Kurdistan. Where we are buried in Kurdistan is all the same. These parts are the soil of Kurdistan. It's just as holy wherever it is. A bloody war awaits us and we have to defend our country! It's war and many people get killed. Our Peshmergas die, we sacrifice our lives for our country, what does it matter where in Kurdistan we get buried? We are the Peshmergas of Kurdistan, we must never forget that." He said nothing for a while, then went on, turning to Farok: "Let it be just for this once!" "Take your cousin back to his family. You can take one other man with you." Kadir felt relieved and the pressure inside him lessened. He turned to Talib and said: "You should come along too." "It'll be an honour for me."

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Talib felt quite relieved but at the same time was aware what it would mean to go along on a laborious journey with such a heavy load. But the most important thing for him was that he would get out of the war and that he now had an excuse to leave the Peshmergas in the rocky mountain regions without losing face.

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Around the time for Asser prayers in the afternoon, Kadir and Talib lifted up the stretcher and began their journey. There was a subdued silence among the Peshmergas and many of them silently read religious hymns to themselves while their vapid and despondent eyes followed Kadir and Talib until they were out of sight. They walked with the stretcher between them along the narrow and crooked mountain paths, taking each step at a time, careful not to fall down the steep slopes. The journey progressed slowly, people by themselves had a hard time traversing this territory and they were carrying a heavy load as well as a gun and ammunition. They went on for hours and Kadir could only think of one thing - to keep going on without stopping or resting. He was still in shock and felt neither exhaustion nor hunger. They went on for a while until Talib said: "I can't go on any more, I have to rest. We have to take it easy, we are exhausted, I can't keep on walking any more. We have to stop and rest." "No!" Kadir said without looking at him.

When dusk fell and the light of the stars and the moon was no longer sufficient to light up the path, Talib stopped and said: "Now we have to spend the night here, we can't go any further. I'm not up to any more walking and we could get lost." They put down the stretcher and lay down on the bare ground. They were soon steeped in a sleep-like torpor. At dawn they got up again without saying anything, they drank some water, ate a bit of bread and then continued their journey. Kadir was deathly silent and it was Talib who occasionally interrupted the silence. After an hour he said: "We'll soon get to a village, God only knows what it's called but we have to borrow a mule. We can't go on like this, the temperature will soon rise and we can't carry the stretcher any longer in this dried out rocky environment. If we don't die of exhaustion we'll die of thirst!" Kadir nodded absentmindedly.

It wasn't long before they did get to a village. As they came along with their stretcher, everyone in the village gathered and followed them. The women had tears in their eyes and many of them rushed home and got some food and cold water. Kadir and Talib were served flat unleavened bread and yoghurt with fresh goat cheese. "You have to eat something and drink a little," the villagers insisted as they sat in a circle around Raza's corpse. They knew without asking that another Peshmerga had sacrificed his life.

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"How can we help you? We'll lend you a mule and accompany you to the border. It'll take less than an hour."

It wasn't long before the villagers had put Raza on the mule, covered with a blanket and lashed down with a rope. Talib felt a great sense of relief when the mule took over the heavy task. Many other villagers, young and old, followed them a ways. Women began to cry out loud and sang sad songs of lament. "Have many been killed?" an older man asked. "What happened actually?" Kadir was off in his own world, unreachable. He walked like a body without a soul without answering while Talib began to explain what had happened. "We go the same way," he said several times. "We'll all go down that path some day. We're all headed for death. If it doesn't happen today then it'll happen tomorrow or another day. I don't mourn, not even my own death every day every event is harder to bear than death itself." Talib kept speaking and the villagers listened all the way. "People die and are wounded and there is no time or feelings left to mourn them all."

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In the morning they got to the Iranian border where several military vehicles were parked waiting to transport dead and wounded Peshmergas. "Where are you headed for?" one of the drivers asked. "Are you going to Tawela?" "Yes, we are," Talib answered. "But not all of us, only the two of us and this man," he said pointing to Raza's body. We have to turn him over to his family." "You can get a real coffin." The driver climbed up on the lorry and lifted off a coffin. The villagers rushed up and helped to lay Raza's corpse in the coffin and then lift it back up on the lorry. Talib thanked the villagers for their help and friendliness. Several of them read hymns.

Kadir and Talib took a seat in the lorry while Raza's coffin lay on the platform. Soon the driver started the lorry and drove off. Very shortly Talib had fallen asleep. Kadir began to recover form his state of shock, his shell began to melt like ice he started to grasp what had happened. Depressed thoughts went around in his mind and a torrent of emotions started to come down.

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"Here lies Raza, my cousin and childhood friend who was a part of my life and his life has been blotted out. Here lies a friend who was full of love and was considerate why? He who didn't even believe in what he was doing. Not a single bullet was missing from his magazine. He who was happily married and lived for his love. Why did that damned bullet strike his head precisely? Why? Couldn't he have just been wounded?" Tears started to slowly run down, leaving their traces on his dirty and unshaven face. Images of Raza filled up Kadir's inside. Their childhood and all the happy and bitter memories came to the surface. In his thoughts he saw Raza resurrected again - his radiant warmth, his dark eyes, his happy and carefree face, his warm voice filled with mirth and consideration. Kadir remembered the intense tone of voice with which Raza used to talk about Shirin: "A glowing fire is burning, I haven't seen Shirin for several days. I take every step hoping that she'll show up and that I'll catch a glimpse of her. Tell me, when will I get to see her again?" Kadir shook his head. It just wasn't possible that it was Raza who was lying in the coffin on the lorry platform. He had a strong mind to shout at the driver to stop the lorry and check if it really was true but he controlled himself. He heard Raza's warm voice inside himself: "Listen Kadir, my dear brother, let me tell you something. You only live once. You don't get many chances in life. I have drawn my lot, happiness lives in my veins. It is Shirin's love. Now we have an opportunity to be united forever. I can't let it go by. I can't afford to lose it. You may not tell anyone, you my best friend, for then I'll lose face. I won't dare show myself again. A weakling isn't worth living. You shouldn't tell what you feel. Big strong men have no room for emotions." "Whom should I talk to now?" An icy loneliness went through Kadir like a lance and he had to hold himself back so as not to lie down and cry.

Every now ands then reality knocked on his consciousness again and brought him back from his fantasies. He looked up and turned his gaze towards the light blue sky. It wasn't long before Halima, Mahmod and Shirin appeared in his thoughts: "How should I tell them? That's the difficult question. Oh my God, why did you take him? He who would never hurt a flea, he who was filled with life and energy, so loving and happy, why did you take precisely him from among all of us? He was killed, and we go on living, why didn't you take my life instead? I who am dried up and without love?" Anger rose up inside him:

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"I will throw my damned rifle as far from me as I can, smash it into a thousand pieces. I'll never bear it again. Let people say what they want. Let them say that I'm a weakling, a coward whose life isn't worth living. Never again will I take part in the games. I am neither better nor worse than others, something is wrong. Something isn't right here. We risk our lives but if we get killed we are not even sent home to our families. The leaders sit safely, well behind the lines, and send us off to our death. They eat and drink well while we climb up and down on mountain paths in this hot godforsaken country. We hike thirsty and with a starving stomach while those in the leadership sit on their comfortable couches."

He continued his inner dialogue, mechanically: "This entire bloody history repeats itself continually, we rebel and lose and start off again. Why should I shed my blood? Raza did! And many others will follow him. For whom? To hell with all the guns! Look at Raza, his senseless death. And now I have to turn him over, turn over his lifeless corpse, to his family. God help me! What should I do?" Kadir began to feel real anxiety: "I didn't listen to Alan. He tried in every way to convince me but I chose to stay. I should have given myself up to the regime. I was blind, I couldn't see. I did more good when I was studying than I'm doing now. Look at us here among the insects, the flies and the gnats in the dried out yellow bushes alongside the paths. Who wants to visit this area other than wild animals and idiots like us? I grew up with sorrow, I lost my papa and my friend Blue Eyed. I grew up and saw how the killing spread its poison and how it slowly coloured my view of life. But revenge has broad wings, it can fly and land in anyone's heart and evil tightens its grip and crushes all resistance. Ahmad was only a little boy but now he's known as Colonel Ahmad. Only a few days ago Raza was in his beloveds embrace and now his corpse is lying in a coffin."

Kadir looked around him with big expressionless eyes while Talib snored heavily. It was like looking at his own dead body inside him. The driver drove on and passed through village after village. When they reached a town he stopped at a restaurant. An employee came running out and took care of them. People became attentive and fell silent when they saw a coffin on the lorry. They pointed at the platform, whispered to each other and wondered in their curiosity who it was. Kadir and Talib washed their hands and face. Then they entered the restaurant with everyone's gaze turned towards them. They were served a meal of rice and chicken. When they wanted to pay for the food the owner refused to take any money.

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"You are my guests," he repeated several times. "I am your host." They thanked him for the meal and drove off.

Talib soon fell asleep again while Kadir was plagued with depressing thoughts and ideas. he saw nothing of the beautiful landscape. His gaze was completely turned inward: "My God, what kind of a life are we living? We have no real childhood and as adults our fate is to take part in a war and get killed! Oh God, how can I live with my grief over Raza, the pain is so great that I can't cope with life."

Towards evening they arrived at Tawela and parked near a mosque. Kadir felt terrified inside: "We are getting closer to Halabja, and again a protracted journey in the dark awaits us. If everything goes well we'll arrive there early tomorrow morning. Omar is the right person in a situation like this!" People quickly gathered at the mosque in order to help carry the coffin inside. Curious eyes wondered who it could be, the dead person? Who was it? "Was it someone from here?" a man asked Talib. "It's Raza from a village near the town of Halabja." The driver came up to Kadir and Talib and said: "I am sorry for your troubles. May God forgive him! Is there anything I can still do for you before I drive back?" "No, thank you. Farewell, my brother. May God be with you."

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In the mosque people gathered around the coffin. The mullah sang from the Koran in a voice that brought tears to people's eyes. The song provided them with some consolation and Kadir began to realise the import of what had happened. Without a sound, tears ran down his cheeks. The mullah went on reading and singing until he was interrupted by a voice calling everyone to evening prayers via the mosque's loudspeaker. People prepared for evening prayers and for a prayer for the dead. Kadir and Talib had to go outside, they were unclean and were not allowed to be present. "Do you want me to rent a jeep for you," Talib wondered. "Soon it'll be dark and we have to be on our way." "Yes, you can do that, do it now."

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Talib left to get a car. He understood that Kadir had to be left alone. After prayers, Kadir went back into the mosque and sat down next to the coffin. Neighbours who lived nearby brought them trays with dinner and everyone began to eat together.

Dusk fell and the stars came out in the sky, they bathed in their own light and some of them slipped towards each other. Around the little mosque everything was quiet. Only the mullah's voice could be heard as he chanted his religious message. Kadir sat motionless like a statue with tears welling up behind his closed eyelids and running down his face.

The journey was approaching its end and they were driving towards Halabja. It was so dark that only light from the car's headlamps could be seen. Talib and Kadir sat next to the driver who carefully negotiated the gravelly and narrow mountain roads. It took a lot longer than driving in the daytime, but in daylight it was dangerous to drive here since there was a risk of being attacked by Iraqi jet fighters. The driver was curious and wanted to know what had happened. Had many others been killed or wounded? Who was the dead man? "Raza," Kadir said in a low voice. "He's my cousin." "All of us will go down that path," said the driver. "May God forgive him, may he have his place in Paradise. I don't know him but I do know you, I saw you once together with Hairless, aren't you a student leader?" Kadir didn't listen to what the driver was saying, his thoughts were elsewhere but he was aroused from them again. "How old was he," the driver wondered, "Does he have a family and children?" "He was twenty-five," said Kadir mutedly, "Married but without any children." "I lost my brother," he thought to himself, "May Raza go to Paradise!" "If he didn't have any place among us here in this hell," he said half out loud, "how will he then have a place in Paradise?" The driver thought a little and then said: "You know, God knows that he is a martyr and the place for martyrs is in Paradise. Tell me about the battle, did many get killed? Did you kill many Iraqi soldiers?" "I don't know," Kadir said and closed his eyes. "People were killed from all sides." Kadir tried to avoid continuing the conversation and for a while only responded tersely when spoken to.

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The car jolted over the uneven road like a rocking horse. Exhaustion took its toll and Kadir began to doze off. He woke up when the driver complained about the condition of the road: "This road wears the car out fast, there are always expensive repairs afterwards." "But you get paid well too," Kadir said tersely without being able to care very much about the driver's problems. "Well, yes, but" Kadir shook his head. He couldn't keep awake any longer and fell sound asleep.

Towards midnight after several hours of driving they got to the abandoned Halabja. Kadir was awakened by homeless dogs starting to bark loudly and chase after the car. "Now the moment comes that I'm afraid of. How should I give the family the news of Raza's death?", he thought while he drove through the silent streets. "Everything is quiet now, no one is crying, no one is fighting, no one is beating his brow, tearing his hair or ripping up his clothes. But tomorrow when we get there all hell will break loose, the air will be filled with keening and crying." They stopped the car at the Tak mosque. Kadir thought about whether they should drive directly to the village or not. "The best thing to do," Talib said, "would be to drive first to the Tak mosque where older people will soon be gathering for morning prayers. Older people know how to take care of events like this. The family has to be prepared, we can't drive straight to the village, we would wake up the villagers and they would immediately realise that something has happened."

Together they carried Raza's coffin into the mosque and soon freshly awakened people arrived at the mosque. They then went to Omar's house and woke him up. Nadia woke the entire neighbourhood up with her frantic crying when she heard what had happened, she cried and her children woke up in fright, not understanding anything. Omar raised his whining voice: "My cousin, ro-oh, my cousin, ro-oh." Nadia beat her breast and hell broke loose. Kadir dropped the impassive mask that he had been wearing for the last several days and he too began to cry and hugged the others. The driver looked on and tried to calm them down. "We need your help now, you can cry later!"

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Omar got dressed hurriedly and went out to them. At the mosque Kadir felt relieved when he saw Behram Bey. He went up to him and Behram Bey asked him in a disconsolate voice: "Is it someone we know?" "It's Raza, Mahmod's son, from the village!" Behram Bey started and stood completely silent for a long while. He folded his hands and closed his eyes. Tears welled out of the corners of his eyes and ran down his wrinkled face. His voice was heavy when he laid his hands on Kadir's shoulders and said: "May God forgive him and be a support for his family!" "I'm confused," Kadir said, "I don't know what I should do, how I should tell his family? I'm not used to this, it's the first time, how should I break it to them?" "Don't worry, Kadir my son, we'll take care of that. I'll go to Halima together with Omar, but first I have to say my morning prayers."

After a while Behram Bey came back. It seemed to Kadir that he looked even more bowed than he otherwise did. "Listen to me," Behram Bey said. "We have to prepare the family for Raza's death before we hand his dead body over to them. It will be quite a shock for them. They need some time before they can look at him for the last time. Whatever we do there'll be a lot of commotion in the village and the family will never get over its grief. It will be hard to bear in any case. Behram Bey's eyes were red from crying. He took a deep sigh: "The short period of time those young people were together remind me of my daughter's death, may God be with her soul!" After a moment of silence he said in a heavy voice: "We'll go first, then you come afterwards a few hours later." The driver nodded in agreement

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Omar and Behram Bey drove to the village together. Omar had trouble driving and they almost drove off the road due to the tension. Behram Bey was frightened and reminded him: "Take it easy, friend, and drive carefully. Yu have to take it easy. Dry your face, don't you see yourself what you look like? You have to pull yourself together if you are

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going to be of any support to them. We'll go there and tell Halima and Shirin. Take it easy for God's sake!"

After only a few minutes they got to Mullah Hama's house. The knocked on the door and went in. He embraced them and they kissed each other's hands. "Welcome to my home, God I'm glad that you are visiting my house. I feel honoured." He called out to his wife: "Prepare a decent breakfast for our guests!" "We'll not be eating anything, uh, we've come to" Mullah Hama paled when he saw the seriousness in the two men's faces. His heart began to pound hard. He was paralysed and asked quietly: "Why have you come? Is it my son who is dead?" "No, it's not him!" Behram Bey said. Mullah Hama sighed of relief and collected himself before proceeding to ask: "Who is the dead person?" "Raza, Mahmod's son." "God forgive him! Poor Raza, and he was only just married! He died young. He didn't get to breath the fragrance of life. But God knows best. May God forgive him. His place is in Paradise." Mullah Hama turned to the window and looked out at the garden. "What a misfortune, his father sentenced to twenty years in prison and his son is dead, what a fate!" "It is by the grace of the Great One that we come into this world and it is by the grace of the Great One that we return to Him. This is the fate of all, young and old. Where is he now?" "At the Tak mosque and in an hour they'll be here with the coffin. Come with us to go and tell the family." Mullah Hama nodded and accompanied them out to their car.

Just as they were on their way to Raza's house, Shirin was preparing to say her morning prayers all alone in her bedroom. Unaware of the light that had gone out, she bade the angels to watch over Raza. He got up when she heard that someone was knocking at the door and she rushed half running to open it. She was astonished when she saw Omar so early in the morning. "Is aunt at home?" Omar asked. "Of course," she said.

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They entered and Halima came running out of the living room. "Who is that?" She looked at their faces and knew what it was all about. She lost her balance but Omar held her upright. "Is it my husband?" None of the men answered. They went together into the living room. "We have come to tell you," Mullah Hama said in a soft and clear voice. "God is our creator. No one can prevent what he wants to do with us. He gives us life and he takes it back. His will must be respected every day, every hour. Some leave us and God knows that I wish I were among them. Every day one wishes that one were dead. You are a good Muslim, Halima, we have to accept God's will!"

Halima's heart practically stood still in her breast. She lost all her strength and just sat there completely quiet. Her hands shook. "Tell me what happened!" Shirin listened but her eyes were empty. Mullah Hama started to read a hymn that dealt with life and death, then he explained: "Everything is written in our foreheads, we will all go the same way. If not today then tomorrow or the day after. We only have God, we hope that he will come to our aid. I don't know how to say this, I can't find the words!" The tears welled from his eyes and ran down his cheeks without his losing any of his composure, for that matter. His voice became peaceful and calm: "It is your son, my dear, dear sister."

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Shirin and Halima both froze as if they had both been hit by the same bullet. There was a howl that made the ground shake when Shirin absorbed the message that the men had brought. The neighbouring women rushed in, one after another, and the word spread throughout the village so that ultimately all the women gathered around them and the men left the house. Halima fainted and Shirin beat her breast and her head uncontrollably and scratched her face so hard with her nails that she began to bleed. She tore her hair so that the women had to contain her and stop her from hurting herself. She calmed down but

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every now and then she pried herself loose, got up and hit herself hard while moaning at the same time. More and more weeping women gathered and they picked up handfuls of dirt and threw it over their heads. Halima opened her eyes when the women doused her face with cold water and she regained consciousness. She just sat still and stared vapidly in front of her but when she saw Shirin she got up and shouted: "Who is the bloodthirsty killer? Who killed my son? I'll drink his blood and jab his eyes out. Who dared to go after my son? I'll crush him. My wonderful, dear son! My only hope in life!" She collapsed and started to cry.

Suddenly, Halima ran out, stepping quickly, to take her farewell of Raza and Shirin and the other women followed after her. Mullah Hama and the other men tried to hold them back, but they failed. Behram Bey wanted to be of assistance: "Let the women see him for one last time." Mullah Hama was annoyed and cast a dissatisfied glance at Behram Bey as if he wanted to complain that the latter had invaded his turf. "Women are not allowed to come to the mosque!" Without interruption, Shirin and Halima were tearing their hair and the other women sang keening Kurdish songs. After an hour the women were able to get Halima and Shirin to return home.

Omar and Kadir stood in the garden and Kadir wept out loud and beat his head hard when the villagers washed Raza's body with hot water and wound a white sheet around him. Then the coffin was laid down in the mosque's main room and Mullah Hama read the Koran for all those sitting around the coffin. They waited for the gravedigger to finish his work so that they could drive Raza to his resting place.

People began coming to the village from town and from adjacent villages. There were those who owed something to the family and others who mourned him.

The entire village came alive and when Raza's corpse was carried forward more hysteria broke out. Shirin and Halima ran crying and beat their breasts all the harder. All of them joined together in singing songs of lamentation. "Take the women out of here. Only men are supposed to be at the funeral!" After a long struggle they drove the women out of the burial grounds. All the village's men took part in the funeral procession. Four people were needed to carry the coffin through the village but everyone wanted to take part and they took

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turns on their way to the cemetery. A sorrowful mood prevailed but it was also a feeling of outrage that they once again had to bury a friend. Omar walked slowly and two men held his arms. He cried disconsolately, his voice filled with emotions from an open wound that brought tears to the others' eyes. Kadir walked forward in silence. The funeral procession got to the cemetery. Everyone knew the ceremony and everything went off automatically. They carried Raza's body carefully and laid it down in the grave. On the edges they placed flat stones and then the grave was covered with sand. Most of those who had gone along lent a hand and the entire ceremony was over in ten minutes. Hama then read the final prayer for the dead.

Everyone was silent for a while, even Omar and Kadir. In such a quiet and sorrowful moment people made contact with their feelings. Everyone thought of his own death or that of a close relative and they could decide suddenly to be generous to others or to ease their conscience and do good deeds, at least in their thoughts. When Mullah Hama was finished with the prayers he went on: "We pray to You, God, our Great God, to give him a place among the angels in Paradise. Amen. May God console his family, amen. May it be their last misfortune, amen!" Then he read the hymn al-fateha and everyone read along with him.

When everyone returned to the mosque, having left Raza in his new dwelling, the truth hit Kadir. His cousin was buried and would never come back. He began to weep hysterically and threw sand over his head. He hit himself and several men came up to him and tried to stop him.

Towards lunchtime the village kids walked towards the mosque, carrying baskets with food the villagers had prepared and sent to the guests. After eating, participation in the mourning started. People came in and sat down for a moment. Mullah Hama read the Koran and preached the advice of the Prophet Mohammed. "If death does not come to you then it will come to me, life is just a test, our permanent place is made up of our actions." People came in and expressed their sympathy: "May God be with him, may God forgive him!" Mullah Hama was somewhat surprised that so many people had gathered and the crowd continued to grow all the while. Every time he read from the Koran he also told a religiously uplifting story about patience and Islamic events.

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The women sat in a circle, switching between moments of silence and open weeping. Every time a new visitor came, a stranger or a relative, it all started over again, with the women crying out loud and beating their breasts and singing songs of lamentation. When Shama and Nadia came in everyone suddenly stood up and beat their breasts hard, tore their hair or scratched their cheeks and wept out loud. Shama sung songs of lamentation so beautifully that everyone who heard her let their grief come out. The songs dealt with grief, loss and emptiness. Everyone was reminded by Raza's death of their own life and their own death. Everyone was helped and feuds, squabbling and jealousy were put aside. The neighbouring women did everything necessary so that it practically things could get done. They prepared food and saw to it that all the new guests had a place to sit. Everyone participated in grieving in some way and showed their sympathy. None of them listened to music, no one turned the radio on, not even to hear the news. If they did so by way of exception, it had to be done secretly. For seven days and seven nights people came to grieve for Raza. They wept so hard and intensely that they lost their voices and were ultimately so exhausted that they couldn't mourn any more.

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Mosul prison was an old prison that had been built in the days of the Ottoman Empire. Just the name by itself terrified people since Mosul was associated with much evil and pain. During times of rebellion and war people, both guilty and innocent, were sent there. Now the prison was overflowing and still everyday recently sentenced Kurds arrived to serve their life sentences or to be hanged. The cells were crowded and the prisoners were squeezed together and hardly had room to lit down. In a little corner there was a toilette and a water faucet hidden behind a drapery. The heat was quite unbearable and sweat ran down and dried up. The air was stale inside the prison and everything smelled. The walls were musty and thousands of flies swarmed around. For the newly arrived prisoners the cells were nonetheless like a hotel room compared with the prison they came from. They were content at last to move to a real prison and escape from all the torture and mistreatment.

Little Brother had been held prisoner for several months. He was now a well-built man with broad shoulders. None of the prisoners dared challenge him and very shortly his name came to be respected and he was known throughout the entire prison. Life in prison had changed Little Brother, the same person that had previously got involved in all the fights and conflicts was now quiet except when he was put under pressure or insulted.

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Then he could become furious like fire and struck terror into his surroundings. With the passage of time his status among his fellow prisoners rose and suddenly he had the power to decide things, something he himself enjoyed and he grew into his new role. Everyone looked up to him and he listened to them. There were plenty of internees, from doctors to simple workers, and he learned from them and said openly that in a short period of time in prison he had learned more than he had by going to school. "Prison is the school of life," Grey Salim answered. Little Brother was popular with his fellow prisoners, especially the older ones. They praised him and he was always nice to them and hard on the younger ones when they tried to force their way past the older men. In his presence the old got everything first and the younger ones came second. Little Brother listened to the older men who told him things about Papa Brahem that he had never heard, something that gave him strength. "May God forgive Brahem," they said, "The poor man!" "Like father, like son."

Weekdays were not painless, they were long and filled with monotony and the usual struggle for food, and against disease and general debility. They were spared being tortured but they were still not left alone. The prison was full of criminal Arabs serving time and some of them didn't like Kurds. One of them was Abo Issam, a stocky tattooed man who harassed and bullied the Kurds even when the guards were watching. One could often hear him shout: "Damned murderers!" or "Terrorists! Murderers, heartless savages!"

As time went on there were more and more Kurds and the tension increased. One day when they had all gathered in the yard, Abo Issam started to bother a older man: "What are you in for?" "I don't know!" "Do you know where your ears are, you stupid Kurd, living in Iraq and not being able to speak Arabic!" When Little Brother saw him, he rushed up to him and shouted: "Leave him alone!" "What do you do besides that?" Abo Issam asked with a sneer. Little Brother had no more control over himself when he hit him with a clenched fist. The blow was so hard and came as such a surprise that Abo Issam fell over on the floor. Little Brother grabbed him tight around his neck with his hands and tried to strangle him. If Grey Salim hadn't been there to intervene he would have done it. "Let him alone," Salim shouted, "Don't make matters worse!"

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Little Brother was sentenced to be held in isolation for two weeks and he managed to calm down there for the first time and had time to think about everything, to think about Amina and Brahem and Big Head. Time was hard for him to bear and isolation depressed him and it was worse than the times when he had been tortured and thrown out of the cell. This time he wasn't being tortured but he was lonely and abandoned and had only his morbid thoughts to keep him company: "When I get released, I'll join the Peshmerga and kill the Arab swine!" In his thoughts he hanged them one by one. He felt hatred inside himself. "What am I doing, what am I sitting here for, for having spit at some damned picture. Just for that picture I was nearly hanged!" The long period of boredom in isolation went slowly and drained his energy. He frequently talked to himself and sometimes he sang the sad Kurdish songs that he recognised himself in. After fifteen days in isolation he came back to his cell and was received there with shouts of joy. "That was the right thing to do, Little Brother, now nobody dares look down on us!" "It was a good thing that you gave him a licking, he needed it, but we have to warn you, he can think something up and hurt you!" "Never," said one of the young boys in the cell. We'll be with him the whole time, we don't think he'd dare do anything more." For the first time in his life, Little Brother felt that he had a significant position and he enjoyed it.

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What the prisoners mostly talked about was a general amnesty, visiting hours and their families back home. Their wishful thinking frequently set rumours afloat that suggested that they would soon be free. "Soon well be amnestied," they said happily, "In a month or two." The word "amnesty" was the most popular word among the prisoners and they looked forward to when it would become reality.

The easiest hours were in the evening when everyone waited for Grey Salim to tell the long yarns that he had made up himself. He had both talent and the ability to tell stories

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and if he was ever tired or wanted to be left alone then discontented voices could be heard and everyone tried to talk him into telling his stories. "Please, we're cut off from the world and don't know what's happening outside the walls." "We don't even have access to a radio." Frequently he was talked into telling by Little Brother who waited impatiently to hear his stories. In the daytime they were busy playing cards. There was a lot of yelling and shouting among the players. When a condemned man was hanged the prison was turned into a silent cemetery and they all lay still in their places without making a sound.

Every time new prisons arrived there were some of them who couldn't keep from telling what they had been involved in. People worked off their anxiety together. Frequently they talked about how much and how long they had been tortured. "Prisons are for men," said Grey Salim. "We aren't thieves or criminals, we have to stick together, don't think so much about what we left behind us. I was down on the ground! God only knows, I was whipped so that my skin flaked off. I couldn't take it and fainted form exhaustion." "I never thought I'd make it either," said one of the newly arrived cellmates. "They shoot people for the slightest thing. A simple guard can almost beat you to death. I pretended to faint several times but the bastards poured pails with ice cold water over my head to wake me up again. I was tied up and suspended from the ceiling fan with the electricity turned on. They beat me with batons until I bled. "They use electricity!" said another and cast his eyes down. "They let the rotor blade from the fan turn just over your head and threaten to scalp you!" "Look at my nails, they pulled out all my nails with pliers and burned my body with cigarettes. The pain was unbearable! I don't think anyone could stand torture without fainting. Every time the guards came to the cell they took a prisoner with them that later came back lifeless after a few hours. Some of them never came back." "We are all in the same boat," said Grey Salim, "You're not alone in this, thank God that you're alive."

It was a day in September when word came about a new shipment of prisoners. Little Brother was sitting together with several others of his own age playing poker and it was clear from the expression on his face that he was in a bad mood.

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"So what, new prisoners? This is nothing new. Beat it, soon we won't have any more room to lie down on in the cells." "Youre quite right," the others said in agreement and guffawed. Around noontime the gates were opened and everyone rushed into the yard. Suddenly Little Brother stopped and took a closer look at the new arrivals. "I think there's someone that I know!" In a corner of the prison yard sat Mahmod, immersed in his own thoughts, using his hands to ward off the sun. Little Brother's heart pounded as he rushed up to him and called out: "Mahmod!" Mahmod was so far off in his own thoughts that he didn't hear it. "Don't you recognise me?" Little Brother said. Mahmod was awakened form his thoughts and looked closely at Little Brother. He burst out crying and embraced him tightly. "Is that you, Little Brother? How did you end up here?" Mahmod was so sad that he forgot about himself and his pains. "Thank your God," said Grey Salim, "We're alive, that's the most important thing. Just look at them, they're condemned to death and each month a few of them disappear! Pull yourself together now, Mahmod, say an extra prayer to God that we won't be sentenced to death!" Mahmod sat in silence and tears filled his eyes. Little Brother looked sad, on the verge of crying but he remained calm. Mahmod could hardly believe that Little Brother had grown up so much, from being a little pest to someone who could understand other people's feelings. He raised his head for the first time and patted him on the shoulders and a ray of hope could be seen in Mahmod's dirty face. "Well make it together." "I'll arrange a place for you!" One could clearly hear the guards' shouting and yelling when they opened the gates: "Hurry up back to your cells!"

The next day Little Brother arranged a place for Mahmod next to him. Little Brother saw that Mahmod was weak and sad and he sat down next to him and they talked for a long time about all their friends and relatives. "Haven't you heard anything from home?" "No, but in a few weeks my mother and Sirwan will be coming to visit." "Have you heard anything about Halima and Raza?"

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"No, the road between Halabja and Suleimaniya is closed off, it's impossible for Halima to get out of there." Another older man was listening and he joined the conversation: "I haven't heard anything of my family for four months, I send one letter after another but I don't know where the letters end up, or if they get to the right person. We have visitors once a month. Otherwise we're cut off from the whole world." "Thank your God that you're alive, look at the other side where they're all waiting to be hanged, we're lucky and we have to keep our spirits up." "Tell us how the godless bastards treated you!" said Grey Salim. Mahmod thought of telling what it had been like but when he saw that Little Brother was listening so attentively he toned it down and said: "I went and got my pension and I had letters with me and some personal data and identity cards. They accused me of being a Peshmerga messenger and of trying to smuggle Peshmergas around with the aid of those documents! Whatever I said, they wouldn't listened to me and finally they sent me here for life. Now we're here together and are waiting for amnesty so that we can rejoin our families. When is the next visitors' day?"

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A month had passed since Raza's death and Shirin was so changed that one could hardly recognise her. Her pale and embittered face easily betrayed how much crying she had done every night and her long uncombed hair was wet from her tears. She could neither eat nor sleep and it was only thanks to the neighbouring women who forced her to eat a little that she survived at all. She had pains from all the black-and-blue marks she had picked up all over her body during the days of mourning and she was totally exhausted. In the evening a silent and ominous mood pervaded her where she lay curled up in bed. In her memory she recalled Raza's calm breathing at her side. She so much missed being able to snuggle up to him and feel his warmth and tenderness. At night she dreamt that she lay in his arms and in the daytime she was intensely preoccupied thinking about him. A month had passed and she could still not accept that Raza was dead and buried. Her big consolation was that there were always friends, relatives and neighbours around her during the day. It was only late at night that they were alone.

Time passed and grief absorbed all her energies, she felt worse and worse for every day that passed, she cried and couldn't keep any food down. Halima was so worried that she

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sent a message to Shirin's family in Saryas camp. Shirin was upset when she heard this and wept in despair, repeating many times over: "They'll come and get me, I don't want to leave here." Halima held Shirin in her arms and tried to console her like a little child. Tears were once again in her eyes and several silent tears ran down Shirin's cheeks. She felt an emptiness inside her that made her depressed. Nothing could be of any help to her at this time when she was so much weighed down with despair.

One day in September the sun was already far up in the sky. Shirin was once again on her way to visit her beloved's grave. She walked with a depressed expression on her face while she dreamt of being able to turn the clock back and undo what had happened. She couldn't cope with the thought that Raza was dead. Raza had been the only thing that Shirin had and now she had nothing more to live for. She considered doing herself in in one way or another. She fantasised about hanging herself from the toh tree where she and Raza had sat in their moments of happiness. At Raza's grave she first read a hymn and then let her feelings go while she sang her lament in a said voice. "I'll wear mourning clothes as long as I live, how can I live a life without you. After so many years of cold nights spent waiting, then I only got to have you for such a short time. Why, my God? What have we done to be struck like this? I don't want to live anymore without him, he was my life, we wanted to have many children together and grow old together. Why did he have to die? What do I have to live for? Nothing in life was worth more than my Raza and now he's dead!"

In all this suffering and darkness a gleam of hope appeared and grew day by day until it became reality. A few days before Shirin's forty days' remembrance the village nurse came with news that Shirin was pregnant. She herself could hardly believe it was true, that part of him would go on living. Suddenly the grief subsided and life returned to her. Halima wept like a child and thanked God for this gift. The night after she learned that she was pregnant Shirin was lying in bed with her gaze fixed on the stars. They glowed in the endless darkness outside. She thought of the man she had loved more than her own soul. Shirin missed Raza but she also felt anger towards him. How was she to bear, bring up and feed a child on her own! A child that would never see its father. Anger was aroused for a while after she learned that she was pregnant but it passed when she started to think about the miracle that she had a piece of him left in her. She instinctively realised that she would have to take better care of herself so as not to hurt the child and she started to eat and sleep the way she should.

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The news spread fast and acquaintances and neighbours hurried to congratulate her. The whole village was talking about it and everyone said it was a miracle. People had sympathy for the family and felt sorry for Halima with her husband Mahmod imprisoned, living without knowing that Raza was dead and buried.

At first Shirin was worried that her family would come and take her back after Raza's forty-day remembrance. During preparations for the ceremony she for the first time felt some strength returning inside her. She held her hand over her stomach and thought about the fact that a part of him would live on. Halima turned to God and said: "Thank you, you have performed a miracle, I don't know how we can thank you." She turned to Shirin and said in a motherly voice: "You must think a little bit more about the little one growing inside you, and think of yourself, my daughter. You have to start eating and you have to eat for two people. A life that is growing is in your hands and you have to take good care of it. You may not move around even a little bit. I'll do everything, I'll go every day to the cemetery and visit him. Think what you're carrying inside you. I'll do everything for you." After the ceremony for Raza's forty-day remembrance, everyone gathered at Halima's house, Shirin's father and her brothers and Omar and Kadir. "We know that life lies in God's hands," Shirin's father said. "I mourn for Raza's death. It's as if he were my own son, may God forgive him. We came to fetch our daughter but the situation is different now that she's pregnant and she can decide if she wants to go back with us or not." "God knows that I like you so much," Halima wept, "And you are like a daughter, and sometimes I think that you might leave us. This is your home, I would like you to stay here with us as long as you want, but I won't force you, that would be against my faith and I want you to decide by yourself. We'll be thankful if you stay, you are our darling, you are the one that Raza loved the most." There was a short moment of silence and then Shirin said: "You are my family now, you are like my parents," said Shirin while smiling at Halima. She went up to her father and kissed his hands with tears in her throat. "I'll stay!"

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Winter 1974-1975

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The winter was in the process of giving way and spring was making its way forward without anyone being able to stop its progress. The good that the winter had brought would now stop and the army would once again have the opportunity to re-launch its offensive in the difficult mountain regions that had been covered deep in snow. People in Halabja were worried about new rumours that Saddam had changed his plans and had now decided to recapture cities and villages under Peshmerga control, including Halabja. The Peshmerga would retreat to the mountains. Even now a few families had begun to prepare to leave for camps in Iran when Hairless confirmed the rumours. "We are withdrawing our troops," Hairless told his associates. We will allow them to penetrate deeply and spread out over large areas. Then it will be easier for us to attack and drive back the Iraqi troops, we'll bomb the military installations with heavy artillery. We can wait to ambush them and plant mines under their vehicles.

Life in Halabja went on. Besides fear of being killed, people now had neither electricity nor clean water and the streets were littered with piles of dirt. A few stores and businesses opened while people with nothing to do sat around in small groups, spread out throughout the town. Some of them played cards while others talked and fed the rumour mills, providing a glimmer of hope that soon ebbed off again. They shouted and stared at each other and sometimes they fell silent as if they were in mourning. Time passed and most people had in fact adapted to existence in the insecurity and crisis that affected the city.

Kadir took Raza's death so hard that his memories of the events left him. The lifeless bloody body, how the bullet had bored its way in and how blood flowed from his wounds and the staring gaze incessantly returned to haunt him. He berated himself for Raza's death and nightmares would not leave him alone. He could not forgive himself for having been jealous of Raza, for having had everything that Kadir had not had. He remembered how he cut Raza off every time he wanted to talk about his feelings for Shirin and he was ashamed of himself. He remembered how jealous he had been when Raza's father was released and Kadir had been overly engrossed in his own father's death. Raza's happy face and his successful love had been like a thistle in his eye. Kadir visited Halima and the gravesite as often as he could, overcome with sorrow, brooding and feelings of guilt. The days passed and Kadir's sorrow penetrated even deeper and he began to have trouble sleeping. He was constantly tense and wrapped up in himself and was easily irritated when things did not go as he wanted. The most difficult thing for him was that he

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couldn't tell others about his feelings. Nor was it easy for him to give up and lay down his arms without losing face. He was scared to death of becoming a Peshmerga again and became even more frightened when he thought of how Raza had been shot high up in the godforsaken mountains. Kadir felt as if he were fighting against two different storms blowing in opposite directions inside him and sometimes he tried to convince himself: "Why should I sacrifice my life for something I no longer believe in?"

Several days later, one sunny and warm spring day, he got up out of bed, turned on the radio and listened to the news. "Fighting has broken out again and many have been killed or wounded, neither side has made any important advances and no one can foresee any final victory for either side." "They will never reach agreement, there'll never be any peace on this damned earth," Kadir mumbled to himself. It makes no difference who is telling the truth, our side or theirs, as long as people are dying. Neither is a winner or a loser. Every hour, every day many people like Raza get killed. He turned off the radio and threw himself on the couch, taking out his pack of cigarettes but without lighting one. "To wake up to such a dreary life!" He shook his head: "I'm alive and burning with a lust for life. How will I regain my humanity and dignity? One more day has to be gotten through! When will I get back my right to my life?" Kadir went out and sat on the balcony, staring around. He slowly looked at the ruins and after a moment lit up his cigarette and inevitably his thoughts turned to Raza. His eyes were about to well up with tears: "He got killed," he thought, "but I didn't. I feel nothing, I'm simply shaking with anger!" He got up and looked out over the neighbourhood and said half out loud: "You live in me, Raza, wherever I go!"

Kadir looked at his watch and said: "It's time to go visit Halima and Shirin." He rushed off to put his clothes on and went down the stairs but was stopped by Shama: "You can't leave here without eating lunch," she said, "and that's an order." "No, thank you, I'm on my way off to the village. Turn the radio on! Baghdad reported that the Peshmergas have suffered heavy casualties."

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Just at that moment, Toana rushed in with the neighbour's kid, Black Abba, running after him. "What is it?" Shama shouted and rushed up to catch Toana. "What have you done this time?" she asked, landing a few hefty smacks on Toana's face. Kadir quickly came forward and picked up Toana." "Leave him alone," he said. "Ayaro," Abba shouted. He took my slingshot and hid it, I want it back!" Kadir was not in the mood for any more fighting so he snuck out and hurried off to the village. Assim who was sitting there with several women lifted up her head and looked Kadir straight in the eye so that he was forced to greet the women. Assim said: "Haven't you heard the new rumours? Fatso is back and now he's in charge of the Halabja area, he has something important to tell the people of Halabja, some message from the leadership." "I don't know anything about it," Kadir said, rushing off. He felt hatred inside himself just from hearing Fatso's name.

On his way to the outskirts of town he was stopped by an old acquaintance. "Hey there, where are you off to? We're having a meeting, plenty of people are coming!" Hairless had just recently come from Iran, he was well groomed and looked happier than usual. Fatso, standing beside him, was even happier. Hairless turned back to Kadir and said: "We have orders from higher up that Halabja is to be evacuated, everyone is to go to camps in Iran. We have reliable information that the army will soon be here."

Fatso walked quickly down to the centre of Halabja, surrounded by his men who were all one step behind him. He looked a little bit more closely at girls passing by and felt quite handsome in his new military uniform. It didn't take long before he was able to collect quite a crowd. "I only want to describe the situation realistically, the Iraqi army will be here soon and we have to retreat from the cities," he said, waving his hands. "You have to flee as quickly as possible, and that's an order, otherwise you have only yourselves to blame if something happens." He stopped talking for a second to note his audience's reactions and then went on:

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"We have to think of the innocent who stay on. That is why we're retreating into the mountains. The best thing for you to do is to evacuate the town. Flee so that you can live safely in refugee camps in Iran where there's food and medicine." He tried to convince people and towards the end of his speech Fatso started to sound sterner and waved his forefinger. "I'm warning you" he shrieked, "We can no longer defend you. For your own sake, you have to leave the city. Government troops are on their way, they may be here at any moment! Iraqi planes will soon bomb the town! Anyone with a son serving with the Peshmergas will be executed, they will take revenge for our victories. If you stay here the army will burn you alive in your home! And if you stay behind you'll be obstructing us in our struggle with the invaders who are occupying our holy ground and you will end up being the army's hostages." The spectators looked terrified. "Tell me," Fatso continued, "Have you forgotten the bomb attack? That was nothing compared to what's coming. We can't defend you if you stay behind." Fatso stamped his feet and tried with terror in his eyes to spread more fright and hysteria among his listeners. "If you don't flee from here to a refugee camp we won't be able to make life hell for the damned heathens who will be soiling our city and our sacred soil. I'm just telling you what it's like. If you stay you'll have only yourselves to blame. One thing you have to remember, we Peshmergas don't intend to give up. We are only changing our tactics. Thanks to the great Ahmad, may God protect him. Just look at our prisoner camps which are filled with Iraqi soldiers! His new tactic has inflicts more casualties on the Iraqi army than we had ever been able to do before."

Many families had a member who was with the Peshmergas and they were the first to flee since they sensed what it was all about and understood what Fatso meant. They were sure that, if the soldiers came, they would first take their revenge on families that had something to do with the Peshmerga.

Halabja came alive again. People talked and debated what they should do. Should they flee or not? Cousin Omar, Baktiar the barber and many other families decided to stay put and to rely on God and their fate. "The war is spreading its wings," they said. "At any moment, Iraqi planes can come and drop their bombs and lethal rockets, but wherever we flee we can't escape them."

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Months had passed since Raza's death and his grave had become a holy site for Halima. She visited him almost every day and she recognised all the trees, bushes and even the position of the trees on the road there. One early autumn morning she was preparing herself once again and when she looked out the window she was reminded of the previous day's heavy downfall. "Now it'll be a hell to walk," she thought. Her shoes would get stuck in the heavy clay. "Nothing will keep me back," she went on in her thoughts, "even if I have to crawl there, I'll do it." Shirin was still sound asleep when Halima snuck out of the house so as not to wake her up. She was wearing black clothes from head to toe, it seemed like she had been crying for a long while and she looked older than before. "If they had any heart in their body," she said to herself, "they could have thought of us and paved this damned road here!" When she got there she took out a bouquet of wild autumn flowers and laid them on the grave. She read a hymn, then she began to inspect the plants and bushes, the toh trees and all the vegetation in the vicinity. "My son's grave," she said, her voice choking with emotion, "will be the prettiest of them all." She squatted down near the headstone and hid her face in her arms. Grief and yearning for Raza took up all her energy. She thought of everything that had happened from the day Raza was born till he disappeared. She remembered and conjured up Raza's innocent baby face in her memory. "Nine months," she sang, "I bore you in my belly. You were my only child, my only son. You came into this unjust world, without asking anyone you just came into the world. We named you Raza without asking you. I gave you all the love one could give a child. You grew up and you were always happy and considerate. I remember how you came running home when you went off to first grade, out of breath you had been running the whole way from town to the village. 'Mama, mama, I have to have a school uniform, otherwise the teacher will beat me!'" Halima's had had tears in her eyes for just at that moment she had not had enough money to buy him nice clothes. "Now it's too late," she wept. "I remember how every morning you wanted to sleep a little bit longer, but you had to walk such a long way to the school in town, every

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day, autumn, winter and spring. In the evening you wrote and did your homework. Only God knows how much I loved you. I would sacrifice my life a thousand times over if only I could have saved you. And now you are gone and nothing can fill your place. You were my darling, you were irreplaceable." "'Your son is a martyr, we are proud of him!' said those damned bastards who murdered my handsome son, ' It was his duty to sacrifice his life for his country!'" Halima spat in front of her. "I damn you," she said slowly and clearly, "I didn't need any dead hero. I wanted to have Raza alive, I need a son and now he's gone!" Suddenly, Halima began to weep hard and raised her voice: "One drop of his blood is worth more than your country! You have ruined our lives. May God destroy you! My son rests in a dismal trench and the murderers go free! Why, my God, did you take him from me? Why do you take the lives of the young? He who had never hurt anyone! He who never fired a single shot, why did that accursed bullet have to bore into his body? Why didn't you take my life instead? Tell me, my God, my great God, how will I be consoled and how will I cope with missing him?"

Halima sat there and poured out her wrath, her sorrow and disappointment. Tears ran down her cheeks. "Shirin and their unborn child will need him! Why should the little one grow up without a father, what did the little one do wrong? Good God, why have you done this to us?" Halima sat with her head pointed towards the edge of the stone, every now and then reading religious hymns. "My wonderful Raza! Death cannot separate us, you are inside me and I will never forget you, your death will always burn in my heart!" She lifted her head up to Heaven. "I curse all weapons," she wept, "Everything that destroys other people's lives. God destroys the life of those who send other people's children to die in war!" Halima was silent for a moment and looked around her with a disconcerted expression, feeling that she had gone too far and carefully picked up the Koran in her hand. But before she began to read, she said: "No one should interfere with what God does, even if it is painful. Did I lose my temper? Here I sit complaining about God's deeds!" She cursed herself: "Read the Koran, woman!" After a moment she took out her long string of beads with a hundred beads and began to say her Katem, a religious prayer that frees the dead from their sins. The custom

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is to say "God is Great" and move one of the beads for each time, repeating this for weeks and months. She moved the beads, finishing several rounds before she calmed down. Finally she dozed off. When she woke up she rushed back home. With her head bowed and her gaze fixed on the road she slowly passed by other women sitting in front of their houses. They talked in a low voice but when they saw Halima they disappeared into their houses and when she had passed by they came out again. "Every time I see Halima, I feel uneasy in my body," said a woman clad in black. At least she has a grave to visit. I have no grave to go to and don't even know where my husband is buried. Where did I get the strength to mourn?" the woman said. "Grief can kill you, and you can't do anything about it. I've become ten years older than I really am and will become older and older and have to live with grief for the rest of my life." "I feel sorry for her," said an older woman, "The poor thing!" "Look at her," said another. "you wouldn't believe that it's the same woman who danced for days and nights on end at Raza's wedding. How will she cope with her grief, he was her only son! May God prevent such a tragic misfortune from striking anyone else!" "What does she have to live for? Her husband Mahmod is in prison. It's said that he's alive but one never knows, maybe he too is dead and buried." "It would be better for the old man, it would spare him much misery," another woman went on. "They've lost a son and nothing can replace him." "I liked Shirin, she was quite a Kurdish dish," said a young woman, "and now she looks like an old woman! I often hear her mourning at all times of the day!" "It's not easy for you, living so close to them." The woman clothed in black felt offended that the woman spoke the entire time about Halima and Shirin but not about her husband and she interrupted them angrily: "What was wrong with my husband, you haven't said a word about him and you've been talking the entire time about others in front of me!" She burst out crying. "Calm down," said the older woman, "That is what we were doing, but your husband died ten years ago and Raza died so young." The woman in black felt that she had been wronged but didn't say anything. The older woman consoled her, saying: "We don't care about all this death and misery!" she tried her best. "What will now happen to that girl Shirin?" said one of the women who was still not finished with the subject. Is she going to give birth to her baby living with Mahmod's family? The poor fatherless baby."

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"Yes," the young girl answered, "She's staying on. I've heard rumours that Shirin has said that she'll never remarry and that she'll bring up Raza's child herself. The poor little unborn baby." What do you mean, poor baby?" the woman in black interrupted her angrily. "They have money, it's a pity for me and my children who don't have food every day. We are the ones you should feel sorry for, nobody comes to me to ask what I feel or what I need. But I see how Halima's fat clan are always around them, every day there's one or two cars parked there. Don't waste your sympathy on her!" She burst out crying again. "God makes a distinction between those that have wealth and money and those that lack them!"

When Halima came in the door, Kadir and Omar were sitting at the kitchen table. "We have been waiting for a long time." Omar said. "I fell asleep, my son," Halima said, "And when I woke up it was already so late." "Now well drive home to our place," Omar said. "Nadia is waiting!" "We were at your place last week," said Halima. "You have to come," said Omar, "You shouldnt sit here all alone and, by the way, we don't have time to wait. Nadia has cooked a meal for us."

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In Halabja Ahmad was the person most frequently discussed, he was regarded as a hero and held up as an example to many young people who admired him. As residents of Halabja they were proud of him and felt sympathy for what had happened to him. They enjoyed telling of his victories and they frequently exaggerated and bragged about battles that had never taken place. "Such a courageous man as he is will always be there," said the tailor. "Rockets and bullets rain down on him but he still manages to escape with his life. He's the pride of the town and the backbone of our people!" "He was the one who killed his father's murderer, Black Nassim, and now he's avenging his mother Fata and Karim Bey. He is such a fearless man and the great leader calls him Ahmad the Great." "He never has enough of battles, what astonishes me is that he only kills in battle. He even helps those that are wounded or captured."

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It was the usual story, when they wanted to raise a man up they praised him to the skies and when they wanted to get at someone then he was completely worthless.

Months had gone by and Ahmad had had a quiet time at the front. The winter had been in the way, snow having closed off all the mountain roads and it was impossible for the army to get through. In that way there had been a type of cease-fire even though there were occasional gun fights and the warring parties shelled each other's positions. In the evenings Ahmad sat in the command centre in front of an oil lamp and for the first time in a long time he got the opportunity to think about himself and others and he was suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of longing and emptiness. He thought of Raza and felt regret that he hadn't expressed any consolation to Halima. Raza had been his closest friend. The tears were locked into his silent sad eyes and memories grew up inside him like weeds. Raza's childish face and Fata's weeping confronted him, both in dreams at night and in constantly recurring daydreams. "I wonder why we are born as people?" Ahmad thought where he was sitting. "Hatred and my search for the delightful revenge make me a monster. Revenge is the only thing that keeps me alive. Am I therefore a human being if I feel this way?" He tried to shake off that oppressive feeling as if it wanted to snare him. "I'll avenge them as long as I live, right or wrong. Why did Black Nassim kill my father? I have sought an explanation for many years and never found one. I have drowned in an ocean in my thirst for revenge. Fata and Karim Bey were the only people who cared for me in this life. They are dead and now the world will have to pay!" He got up and looked out the window. He began to talk to himself: "Why, Great God, you who created heaven and earth? I am closer to death than death itself. Raza was like life and true love, he lived for it and I am revenge and I live for that. He lived in his love and I live in my revenge, but Raza died and I am left. What kind of justice is that?"

Footsteps could be heard and Ahmad was aroused from his thoughts. Curious, he waited to see who it was. "Are you here?" one of Ahmad's bodyguards said. "I've looked all over and here you are, sitting alone, I have someone with me that has been looking for you all day!" Ahmad got up and went up to a short chubby boy who looked familiar. "Are you the son of Sami, chieftain in the village?" "I am," said the boy putting his heads on his chest as a sign of respect. "It's such a small world," said Ahmad amicably, patting the young man on the shoulders before they sat down.

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"Tell me about your father, how is he doing?" The boy was silent, answering in a quivering voice: "He's dead and that is why I have been looking for you, I need your help to get leave." "You don't say, he was in such good health!" "It cam very suddenly, he was bedridden, although he had never been ill before. That may have been his death." Ahmad sighed and said: ""May God forgive him, may he have a place among the angels." It was a sad mood, as was usual on such occasions, and then Ahmad broke his silence: "Of course you can have leave, you can come with me, I'm on leave as well." "May I come along," he wondered in surprise. He couldn't believe his ears and repeatedly said: "May God be with you!" "Come at dawn," said Ahmad. Ahmad's bodyguard was surprised when he heard about this leave and said: "Colonel Ahmad, that sneak thought the whole thing up to be able to get away from the fighting and go home!" "No, I don't believe that, you don't know them, I do. His father was a good man and I owe him much, so what I'm doing is nothing! We'll be leaving early in the morning." The bodyguard nodded. "As you wish." Ahmad thought of Halima: "I have to visit her and express my condolences."

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Life in Baghdad went on as usual, people adapted to the ruling group and no one dared show any discontent, not even those families that had lost sons in the war. In all workplaces, along Baghdad's streets and in the markets people hanged Saddam's picture up. In time the Baath party and the secret police came to have total control over Baghdad. Families with children joined, a new generation of Baath party members grew up and everyone with connections to the party got various positions in governing bodies. Those

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who were suspected of being opponents of the Baathists or who did not cooperate with them were ostracised or thrown into prison.

At the beginning of the war Alan had not noticed any difference but things changed in time. The attitudes of both neighbours and acquaintances changed not just in regard to him but to most Kurdish-speaking people in Baghdad. Alan became increasingly depressed and lost much of his interest in going to his business every morning. He was considering selling the business and moving to an area where there were more Kurds. An older man who had his business next to Alan's turned away every time Alan went by and occasionally told other neighbours out loud: "He supports terrorists. Thanks to the money he sends the terrorists our sons are getting killed. With his money they foment riots in the north, people like him should be skinned alive. What is he doing here, why doesn't he go back where he came from." Some times the neighbours called out: "Murderer!" That Alan was doing well was a thorn in his side.

One evening Alan came home. He had bought an oil painting of Saddam, framed in silver with a pretty pattern. He hanged the picture up in the living room and said: "From now on he'll protect us better than the saints do." Merem said nothing and looked unhappy but she understood why he had spent so much money on the painting. Several days later he came home looking very worried. "Do you know what's happened," he said to his wife with tears running down his face. "Our neighbour's son, Hassan, has been killed! Any time now his coffin will be coming home, there'll be a lot of commotion in front of their house." "You don't say!" his wife burst out and started to cry. "Poor Hassan, he was so young and so nice. May God give him a place in Paradise and provide consolation to his parents!" "Tonight I'm, going to visit them," but was interrupted by his wife: "Don't go, I have a feeling that something bad can happen, he was killed by Kurds, now maybe they'll take all their rage out on you." Alan was silent, and then said: "I have to go there, they have been the very best neighbours, I have to go there and show my sympathy. God knows that I liked Hassan as if he were my own son, now I grieve for him."

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Alan went out to Hassan's house but when he entered it the whole family became so furious that they lurched at him and hit him until other neighbours came to separate them and took him out again. The family wept and cried disconsolately: "How can you dare show yourself here, get out, you murderer of our son!" Discontented voices were heard: "Have you lost your mind, how can you do that? Alan would never hurt a flea." The blood ran down from Alan's broken nose and covered his face.

The days went by and life became a hell for Alan and his family. In school Awat was harassed and got beaten both by teachers and by Arab kids. It was late in the evening, the children were sleeping and Alan and Merem were looking at TV when suddenly from outside a stone was thrown at Alan's house. The windows were smashed and the children woke up. Voices were heard: "Murderers!" When things had quieted down, husband and wife sat and talked. "We have no choice, we have to move, things get worse and worse, this is no better life, it is just as well that we move back and meet the same fate as all the others." "Wherever we flee to we can't escape," Merem sighed, "As soon as we open our mouth they know we're Kurds. Should we just keep fleeing?" Merem turned to Alan. "You have helped many people, when is your money going to be worth anything if not now. Go and visit Ama, her son who is a bigwig now, you helped him once! We might get something. If you won't do it then I'll go to her myself. We can't simply flee and leave everything behind, listen to me for once!"

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The next day Alan visited Ama and she was glad to see him. "Is that you, it's been a long time, come in, sit down." The neighbouring women sitting in the kitchen began to serve tea. "How is the family, Merem and the children?" "All well, thank you, she sends her regards." Ama sensed that Alan had something on his mind but she didn't ask. "I thought of coming to visit you before," Alan said, "But I'm always very busy and something always gets in the way. How is Sali, by the way?"

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"Doing well, he's home on leave! Just tell us what we can do for you," said Ama. "We haven't forgotten what you've done for us, we don't forget our friends, nor our enemies either."

Sali was curious when he heard Kurdish being spoken in his house when he came back and wondered who it could me. "Is that you?" Alan got up and went to meet him. "My God, you've gotten big, what are you doing nowadays?" Sali sat down: "I'm in Suleimaniya" he said and turned to Alan. "I'll tell you something and I want it to remain between the two of us. Both Little Brother and Mahmod could have been executed if I hadn't commuted their sentences." Alan spoke with emotion in his voice: "May God preserve you and protect you from misfortune, I'll never forget that." Sali gave Alan a hug. "I'll never forget what you did when everyone turned their backs on us and harassed us. I remember it as if it were only yesterday when I and my mama fled to Baghdad. We got to borrow one of your houses, in addition you told us to come if we needed anything. If there's something I can do for you, I'll be happy to do it, just say what the trouble is." "I don't know what to say. We are being harassed both in the neighbourhood and in school, yesterday stones were thrown at us. I've bought new glass for the windows more than ten times and they shout at us: "Get out of here, you murderer of our son!" and some of them beat Awat so that he had to stay in bed for several weeks. The neighbours have sworn to avenge their dead son! Now I've decided to sell my house and my business for half the price and to return to Suleimaniya. I don't understand it all, we used to be the best of neighbours and were like one big family. God knows that I never cared if someone was an Arab, a Kurd or whatever, but now our lives have changed and we can't sleep safe at night!" Sali recognised the situation he and his mother were once in when he heard Alan's story. "Is it true what you're saying? I'm appalled when I hear something like that, you who were always helpful, meek and a popular person. Don't worry, no problem," said Sali, "I'll be more than happy to do it. I'll show them who decides things in Baghdad, they or we!"

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Towards lunchtime Sali gathered his gang and drove first to Alan's business and parked in front of it. He sent for the neighbour and shouted at him: "What do you have against Alan? You shout and call him a murderer." The man shook all over, his mouth dried up and he couldn't get a single word out: "Nothing, there must have been some misunderstanding!" "I'm warning you, you bastard, I swear on the Koran if I hear one word then I'll break every bone in your body, do you understand, you idiot?" He threw him out on the street and then they drove to the neighbourhood school where the headmaster was scared, saying: "What is it that's happened?" Sali paid no attention to what he said. "Where is my friend Awat's class?" He looked at the photos of all the school's pupils and finally found the right class. he went to the classroom and everyone was silent. "Do you know what I'm doing here. Which one of you is Awat?" Several pupils in the class cried out: "Here he is!" Awat lost all his colour. What was going to happen to him? Sali said: "Awat is my relative and I'll cut the throat of anyone who says a dirty word to him, I want you to know. Anyone bothering him will have to deal with me, do you understand?" Everyone nodded in unison. "Of course, no problem." The left the school and went straight to Alan's house and he called for all the neighbours. The news spread fast and Alan regained his position in the neighbourhood. From that day on life went back to normal for him.

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In Suleimaniya all schools, businesses and restaurants were open and there were few signs of any war. The hustle and bustle of traders filled the marketplace and the streets and pavements were full of unemployed farmers wandering around without doing anything, sometimes it was even hard to make one's way through these crowds. Before the war it had been almost impossible to find a place to live but nowadays there were

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plenty of empty flats that the regime had confiscated from relatives of Peshmergas and then rented them out to newly arrived supporters of the regime. People quickly adapted to the new changes in the city. What people used to do happened in Suleimaniya as well. People were careful and watched their tongues. Some were vigilant and used indirect expressions if a suspicious person was in the vicinity. They were aware that the town was full of people who would love to be able to report something to damage someone and for that reason they avoided the risk of being thrown into prison or being manhandled just for the sake of a few words.

Sali and his gang were the most hated and most talked-of persons in town. After Sali arrived the town quieted down. He was successful with his assignment and after only a month he had total control over the city. It had been a long time since anyone had heard a bomb explode or rumours of any assassination. The Peshmergas had more or less stopped doing that, out of fear of Sali's reprisals against their relatives. But when dusk fell in the evening the Peshmergas occasionally came into town and heavy fighting occasionally broke out, lasting for several hours.

For Komri and her husband things had gone well and now he was a well-established businessman. Eagle Nose was so sly that he bribed both the Peshmergas and the regime. His family lived in the same neighbourhood with Amina and she was often there visiting. Komri was very annoyed that One Eye's old wife Rabia lived in the same neighbourhood. Both Sali and his gang went to visit her often. Komri was appalled but didn't dare show this openly, each time it cut her like a knife when they came into the neighbourhood. She boiled with contained rage but she showed no emotion. In the neighbourhood things were not like they had been in Halabja and women did not sit in front of their houses, something that depressed her no end. Occasionally she even longed for her archenemy Shama and her gossip gang.

Late one afternoon when Komri was on her way to visit Amina, just at the intersection where she turned to enter her house, a car came along, driving at high speed. It was one of Sali's gang coming back from Rabia's. Komri was almost squashed by the car. She became so frightened that she fainted and fell over on the ground. People quickly gathered and poured water on her. Amina and Sirwan rushed out and helped her get up and make her way home.

Komri lay on a mattress and Amina sat next to her. Komri looked terrified and read hymns with quivering lips the whole time.

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"God, he was really speeding, the idiot," said one of the neighbours who had come in with them. I swear on the Koran that I saw that he wanted to run you over, you were lucky, you'll have to sacrifice a lamb because you survived. We all have to be careful so as not to be driven over on our own street. What inconsiderate bastards, he came out from visiting that slut. She's bringing shame on the entire neighbourhood." "Please, can't you stop!" Amina interrupted him. "We have enough problems as it is, I don't want any more. There are loads of people that report things for free, let it be, I neither want to know or hear anything. It is God who can punish her." She said nothing but then continued in a mild voice: "I don't want to be impudent to you, but I have to protect my family, what I have left of it." Amina was on the verge of crying. "I have already been struck hard, my husband and now even my son has been sentenced to life imprisonment, I hope you understand." "Yes, of course," said the man, "You are quire right but I was so enraged that he deliberately tried to run her down. I too have a family and children that I have to think of," he said, leaving.

What made the disgrace even greater as far as Rabia was concerned was that Kurds do not like to mix their blood with Arabs in marriage and, especially, do not like to marry off their girls to Arabs. If someone did that, that person lost much of his social position and became the object of gossip for the whole town as well as a target for denigration and wagging tongues. If a Kurdish man married an Arab girl it was less of a scandal but he frequently would meet up with resistance and parents rarely gave their consent. What bothered people most was that Rabia slept with Arab secret policemen. On every street in Suleimaniya people talked first about Rabia and then about the war. Rabia had gone beyond the pale. "That slut, she's done what not very many even dream of doing. Sin is more detested than treason." "That slut must die! You should kill the snake before it gets too big, she's not just destroying the town's reputation but the entire Kurdish people's reputation. How can she dare to spread her legs for Arab secret policemen!" "It's not just her fault. Her man is a pimp, he solicits her customers!" "She's pretty, that slut, but that doesn't suffice with the Peshmergas."

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Rabia's house became a meeting place. People often saw Sali's car parked outside. Rumours claimed that Sali was more or less her husband. The entire neighbourhood was filled with pent-up aggressiveness waiting to be set off. When the neighbourhood women gathered at Komri's house, they were preoccupied with talking about her. "I can't stand for it any longer," said Komri. "I curse the Peshmergas for not yet having done anything about it and letting her do what she wants and bring disgrace over the entire town! I pray to God every morning that Rabia will be struck by God's wrath, I wish I could see her dead or murdered by someone!" "I'm ashamed of being a woman when I see her," said Komri, shaking her head. This is that damned One Eye's fault that he didn't kill her when she was unfaithful with Black Nassim. Now sin punishes itself!" "She's become a fallen woman who sleeps with anyone," said another woman. "Once a whore, always a whore!" The women were so indignant that they could have torn her to bits if they had been given the opportunity. When Rabia went out wearing provocative clothing, the neighbouring woman opened her door and called out after her: "Put on something decent, we're not living in Europe." Rabia pushed her away. "Beat it, you witch!" she snapped angrily. "This is my body, I'll put on what I want." She sneered: "If you're dying for a bloke yourself then put on something better than those damned rags, you fucking witch." She just laughed and the shocked neighbour didn't know what to say. Rabia rode roughshod over all mores and customs and put women who attacked her in their place.

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Hairless was livid when he read the report about Rabia and was crimson with rage. "This is the fifth report we've had, we have to get rid of that damned woman!" When Fatso entered he heard Hairless lecturing on morality. Fatso stood still for a moment, not grasping what Hairless was talking about. "That he's talking about morality, of all people," he thought with a snicker. "What are you talking about?"

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"Read this report!" Fatso read the report and shook his head. "Here we are, sacrificing our lives for her and she's spreading her legs for our enemies. How dare she sleep with Arab idiots?" "Why," said Hairless, "did I prevent One Eye from killing that slut?" "Are you referring to One Eye's ex-wife Rabia?" Fatso said. "I've ridden her, she's a real piece of Kurdish pussy," said Fatso proudly before laughing: "What a couple, she's a whore and her new husband is both a pimp and an informer!" "The worst thing," said Hairless with a serious mien, "is that what she's doing will ensnare other women, home will become a whorehouse." "Why are you so angry, we can kill her tonight!" "You're quite right. Let's do it tonight, that slut's going to die," Hairless repeated several times.

Fatso regretted that he had returned from leave in Iran where he had been living like a caliph. He had been drinking and playing cards at night and repeatedly tread a path to the local whorehouse. He had only had time to visit his wife and children, whom he had left behind at the camp in Saryas, a few times. He enjoyed having fun in bars when he was on leave. Now he was obsessed by an insane desire to have a last violent go at Rabia and feel her ample breasts." "Are you dreaming?" Hairless shouted. "I'm standing here telling you what we have to do and all you can do is dream!" Fatso woke up from his thoughts and said: "We have been Peshmergas a long time, if we're going to kill the women we've slept with we'll have to kill over two or three hundred." "Shut up!," Hairless shouted in rage. There is a big difference, we're Kurds and, furthermore, we haven't forced anyone. For God's sake, she's sleeping with our enemies, don't you understand? Donkeys from the south where you don't even know where they come from, can such people be allowed to fuck our women? This crime is worse than treason, I won't be left alone unless I kill that whore. A whore who spreads her legs for the enemy has no right to live!" "Soon she'll open up a brothel in Suleimaniya, she's a security risk. I'll kill her myself with my own two hands!" Fatso listened and waited impatiently to say something and he turned to Hairless and said:

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"I have a good idea, I have one man in my group that has no fear of anything. He's courageous and can kill as easily as he drinks water, I trust him, it can be an easy match for him." "Do you think he can manage it?" "Yes, he can, he should hide in Suleimaniya with our friends and some evening he'll make his move." "Hurry up and get him!"

Several days later, the whole town, men and women, was, as usual, talking about Rabia, repeating what was true and what was untrue. It sounded as if the men condemned her but actually they were angry that she was sleeping with Sali and not with them. Their manliness had been wounded. When they heard about her death, there was plenty of spiteful rejoicing. "The slut got punished, just what she deserved." The neighbourhood women were jubilant and thanked God over and over again that they had gotten rid of her. Komri was jubilant as well: "Sin punishes itself and now that pest is gone!" Everyone who passed by Rabia's house heard that her seven-year-old son was weeping disconsolately. "Poor kid," they said, "Imagine, having such a woman as a mother."

At the cemetery on the other side of town Rabia was buried with only a few people present. Her death did not change that much. It wasn't long before the secret policemen had found other women to amuse themselves with.

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Shama was afraid. She wasn't happy that Kadir stayed in bed half the day, that he avoided her and that he was terse in answering when spoken to. She was worried about him and therefore went to see Omar's family. "Listen Omar," she said, "Ever since Raza got killed, he hasn't been himself, he's taken Raza's death very hard. He frequently talks to himself, he's stays awake at night and sleeps in the daytime. Help him, he can't get out of bed and, another thing, I've found lots of tablets." "What kind of tablets?"

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"How should I know, I can't read, but I threw all of the damned tablets in the waste bin and I think he's angry with me. But he's been so good to us and therefore it's my duty to report what's happening to him." "I haven't noticed anything," said Omar. "I met him yesterday at Halima's and he seemed to be okay. It has now been decided that he'll remain with the political branch in Tawela." "He rarely goes to meetings, he doesn't care what happens! He's given up," said Shama, "And he's suffers from anxiety, he blames himself that Raza got killed instead of him. He says he can't stand it." "Who can stand anything, now that there's no safe place left to live in," said Omar gently. "To live in this ruthless time that the war has brought. What difference does it make whether we are good people or ruthless people now that we are governed by criminals and murderers."

Several days later, it was late in the afternoon, Kadir was sitting in the rocking chair and fingering his big black moustache. The eternal pain ate away at his soul and constantly came back in different shapes and forms. It was so strong that it dominated his entire life, he was completely paralysed. He was alive but he lacked everything that can be called life. He sat there, in deep anxiety that threatened to burst his heart when he came into contact with it. When Omar went up the stairs, Kadir was torn from his thoughts and they said hello. "I was thinking of arguing with you," said Omar in a voice that sounded upset. What the hell are you doing most of the time? You lie in bed all day and haven't aired the room in a long time. It really stinks here! Raza was not just your cousin, he was mine too, but life must go on. I know how it feels to lose a friend, I know how you feel about him, but he's dead, he's gone and if we grieve, weep or hang ourselves he still won't come back. Omar wept: "May God give us the strength to stand it, may God not send us any more misfortunes. Now you have to come home to us, you shouldn't be here all alone!" "But" "Not buts, you have to move in with us!" Kadir was touched and just stood there without knowing what to say. He hugged Omar and finally said: "Thanks. I'm not in any danger, I'll stay here!" "Come right away," Omar burst out in an indignant tone. "Nadia has prepared food today, and do you know what food? Turkey. She specifically said she wouldn't even taste it until you came!"

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Nadia had set the table very nicely. Delba sat restlessly on her chair, trying every now and then to grab a piece of the meatballs. She got scolded when her mother saw this: "Leave them alone," Nadia warned her and lifted up her finger as a warning. When Kadir came in Hanna and Delba happily ran to meet him. Nadia said: "Welcome, my dear brother! It has been a long time, now first we have to eat our food and then I'll tell you why I'm angry with you. We can argue later. Shama told us you won't eat anything, just bread and yoghurt. How long will this go on? You have lost weight. What's the purpose with relatives? I prepare food for my family every day. Do we have to come and get you every time? Don't you have your own legs that you can't come by yourself and eat with us? We have said more than a hundred times that you should eat with us but we haven't seen you for a whole week. What's wrong with you nowadays?" Kadir cared more for what he saw on the table than he cared to listen to her. His eyes were wide with astonishment and he was dazed by the roast turkey together with a slew of side dishes. He sat down and said: "I had forgotten that there so many good things to eat!" "One more person doesn't really matter, and furthermore everyone in the family wants you to eat with us. Come live with us!" Kadir was moved by what he heard. "I promise to come more often. You shouldn't worry so much about me, I'll manage, but I must say that I am touched when I hear that you care about me." "What is the political situation like, actually? Do you believe the leader's warning?" "I don't know what's going on in his stupid head," Kadir said, "We ignore him and all the other idiots in this world." Kadir went up to Little Tara lying in her cradle. He picked her up and kissed her tenderly on the cheeks. Then he called out: "Come here!" Delba and Hanna lit up of joy and knew what was coming, that it was time to play. They played for a long while and Kadir ran around and chased them until he grew tired and started to sweat, in addition he felt very relieved. The children were on top of him, crying 'One more time!'" When he lifted Delba up in the air and caught her she said: "You have to tell us a fairy tale, do you remember that you said you'd tell us the rest?" "The rest of what?"

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"Of 'The wolf and the lambs.'"

"Uncle Kadir, just one more time!" they called out as soon as he got to the end of a fairy tale. Joy was back in Kadir's eyes and he enjoyed seeing the happy expressions on the children's faces. Time passed and Nadia made up a bed for Kadir. "Not today, but we'll sing!" They sang together and the children wanted Kadir to tell them fairy tales when they were about to go to sleep. Kadir told a fairy tale but the children wanted to hear several. Like many other evenings, Kadir stayed over with Omar. "You must stay over, they insisted, and it wasn't long before they all went to bed."

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Around about midnight they were woken up by the sound of artillery shells landing. Nadia quickly took Tara, who was sleeping, in her arms and Omar put his arms around Delba while Kadir held Hanna in front of him as they rushed down into the cellar. "Don't be afraid," Omar said, "We're safe, don't worry, it'll be over soon. We have a good cellar, we'll manage!" Omar read hymns continuously and had his arms around them. Sometimes he hugged them tight and said: "There's no danger!" Every time a bomb fell in the vicinity the children started and wept. The artillery thundered on but after an hour it fell silent again. Shouts could be heard in the dark of night, as well as weeping and cries for help. Cars could be heard as they drove fast through the streets.

Nadia and the children remained lying on mattresses in the cellar and soon passed out from sheer exhaustion. Omar went upstairs and got a few more blankets for them before turning to Kadir: "It seems to be serious," he said, "We have to get to the hospital. Somebody might need something." "Yes, that's right!"

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They left for the area of the hospital and along the way they met passers-by that told them that there were both dead and wounded. When they got there, the hospital looked normal. It seemed that the bombing had not done such serious damage. When they got to emergency admissions, one of the staff rushed up to them and shouted: "We need blood! It has to be blood group 'O'. Quick, quick," they called out.

Omar and Kadir rushed to donate blood and then sat down in the waiting room next to some of Fatih's neighbours and said hello to them. "Where are Waly and Aunt Narin?" "They are both dead, the neighbour sighed, can't you see my clothes that are covered with their blood? In the dark I heard a big bang from their house. I ran over to see what had happened. I heard a slight noise from inside. It was Fatih who lay motionless under a pile of bricks and was bleeding heavily. I carried him to my car and drove fast to the hospital. "That was well done, may God be with you!" "It's my duty, we're neighbours! I hope that hell make it. Fatih is now the only one in his family that is left. God, I promise that I'll adopt him if he survives." "He made it through the bombing raid and he'll make it through this as well." "It's very quiet, there don't seem to be too many injured." "It's hard to say, tomorrow morning we'll find out how many there were when everything calms down."

Towards the break of day a doctor came out of the operating theatre and everyone got up and went to meet him. "Unfortunately, there were very serious injuries, we couldn't save him!" With expressionless faces they carried Fatih to the mosque where people had already gathered around those parts of Waly and Aunt Narin's bodies that had been collected into two coffins. Some of those who came said their morning prayers. Kadir and Cousin Omar were so exhausted that they couldn't stay with the dead at the mosque but each went back to his own home with the idea of returning later for the burial.

The day after the bomb raid people woke up and they all knew what had happened during the night, who had been killed or injured. Preparations were made for more burials. The attack set people off and a hysterical atmosphere was created when many families decided to set off for one of the refugee camps. Nobody doubted but that the regime was behind the attack and that it was in reprisal for their losses. But a little bit later people started to believe something else when they saw remnants of the shells. There

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were furtive remarks that the shells had been fired from close range and people began to doubt more and more. Some of them defended the Peshmergas: "That's just bull," said those who were on the Peshmergas' side. "How can one doubt the Peshmergas, why should the Peshmergas bomb their own kind .. why should they do that? We won't believe that unless we see it with our own eyes!" It was risky to openly say what you thought, it was best for everyone to keep their mouths shut. Everyone accused the regime although deep down inside they knew that it wasn't true.

After several hours' rest, Kadir awakened, put his rifle over his shoulder and went downstairs. He was stopped by Shama. "You can't leave here before eating breakfast!" He was forced to shovel in the food that Shama had made. Shama beat her breast: "Have you heard what happened? Poor Fatih, his whole family rubbed out. My God take back take those murderers!" "Relax, Aunt Shama!"

Kadir went straight to Fatih's house. In the bedroom everything was destroyed and he saw blood and scraps of flesh spread all over the room. Out of the street several children were playing with shell shrapnel. "Where did you find that?" Kadir asked. The children pointed to Fatih's house. Kadir looked carefully at the shrapnel and could very well guess who had been behind the night's shelling. He cursed Fatso. "You bastard, you stupid bastard!"

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When Hairless heard the news he and his bodyguards drove to Halabja and Fatso met them there when they arrived. In the morning, all of those still in Halabja were to accompany the funeral procession in a silent march. Hairless, his bodyguards, Fatso, Omar and Baktiar the barber walked in the first row. At that moment of grief no one cried and no one sang songs either. No woman scratched her face or wept aloud. People no longer mourned the deaths of others as they had done before, now it was only relatives who did that. Who was there to weep for someone who had no relatives left? All of

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Fatih's relatives were to be buried with him. Who was there left to mourn him? Their names would be blotted out forever. All of them marched on quietly and slowly towards the cemetery. It only took ten minutes to fill up the graves and Mullah Jalal started to read the Koran with a voice filled with emotion. He prayed that the dead may find their place in Paradise and he read out the hymn Al-Fateha. Before he turned back home, Hairless took advantage of the situation and spoke to the people at the gravesite: "The regime does not leave anyone alone, they kill and they make no distinction between the innocent and the guilty. You did not listen, I warned you time and again, but you stayed on and waited to be killed. Why didn't you evacuate the town? Today it was the turn of the innocent. Today we are burying a family that was rubbed out by sinister forces. The buds of spring were blown away by a [raw biting wind]. Today we are burying Fatih and his family, and with him we are burying the childhood of all the children."

Kadir looked at Fatso and boiled over with rage. He suddenly went blank and lost control. he aimed his rifle at Fatso but when he pulled the trigger Omar had lifted the gun up and he simply fired a shot into the air. Most of the people panicked and threw themselves on the ground. "Let me kill that damned murderer," Kadir shouted. Hairless's bodyguards disarmed Kadir immediately, and Kadir shouted several times: "I'll kill you some day, you bastard!" Fatso was so shocked, he could hardly believe that he had been so close to being shot. He was as white as a sheet and looked tense, while saying in his monotonous tone of voice: "This won't go unpunished, I'll show you, you bastard, you worthless students. You'll have to deal with me!" "Now I'll take care of this," Hairless shouted, pushing Fatso away. "What's happened to you, Kadir, have you gone mad?" "Fatso should take responsibility for this poor man's death," Kadir retorted. "That shell was fired from a short distance away!" "Stop it for God's sake, do you want to scratch your neck with a sharp knife?" "He has to be punished, I demand an inquiry!" said Fatso. "You have no brains left in your head," Hairless shouted, on the verge of exploding. "Do you know whom youre accusing? You're accusing the Peshmergas. What do you know about that?"

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He turned to the people gathered in front of him: "You students of today! Is this the way you honour father Brahem? We'll settle this matter at our office!"

Kadir was placed in a car, he was silent and upset that he had missed Fatso and at the moment he was in a state where he didn't care what happened to him. Everyone in the car was silent while the driver sped to the Peshmerga office. Before Fatso got out he threw himself over Kadir but a few Peshmergas quickly came between them and calmed the two of them down, both Kadir and Fatso. "You shouldn't get involved in this," Hairless shouted at Fatso. He was quivering with rage: "Stop, I'll take care of this the way I want. I don't want to hear another word. Now leave me alone with Kadir." He sent them all off. Hairless's anger and rage disappeared when he was alone with Kadir. "What are you trying to do?" he said in a gentle voice. "I who admired your family, I've always had such respect for your family, you know that you're the son of Brahem and not just anyone's son. You come from the martyr's family, what would your papa say if he saw what you were about to do today. You were close to killing Fatso. Tell me, how can you destroy your future, you have a future among us!" Kadir sat silent and combed his moustache with his fingers and Hairless was annoyed: "Say something, I'm sitting here talking to you!" Kadir raised his head and said: "Ask Fatso, your right-hand man, what he was doing last night. He was the one who killed little Fatih, he was the one, I swear on the Koran that it was him!" "Do you know what you're saying, you're accusing us of killing our own kind! Do you understand what it is you're saying, if others hear you they'll laugh at you." "Just between us, you know that I'm right, it was that idiot that acted up and shelled the city. You should shoot him! You know about these things yourself, the shells were fired from close range. The regime is an hour's journey from here by car." "Don't you understand, this is serious!" Hairless cried out and tried to shut Kadir up: "If you can listen at all you should listen to me, you're digging your own grave. You're under house arrest, I'll see to it that you don't move a step away from your home, and no one will come to visit you. Now that's enough! I've had lots of reports about you," said Hairless, agitated and waiving his forefinger, "You say whatever you want openly.

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Fatih was killed on Iraq's account, but I turned a blind eye on that, how can I turn a blind eye anymore. If you were anyone else I would send you straight off to hell. You are only one of those on the liberal left who slanders the Peshmerga and what they do, I've kept quiet about that, I'm looking at the future." He shook his head. "I have lost my patience. How long should I protect you? You accuse us openly in front of a hundred ears and were close to killing a prominent Peshmerga. You're begging to be killed!" "I am," said Kadir. "I have nothing to live for, I've lost my faith. Do what you have to, I don't care! Fatso feasted with the wolves and mourned with the lambs." "You students, damn it," Hairless cut him off and waived his fingers, "You think you have answers that will solve everything, you're distorting the whole truth and poisoning the thoughts of other people. It is your fault that all this misery descended upon this country. I'll let it go for this once if you ask Fatso to forgive you and regret what you did!" "Never in my life," said Kadir "You don't even give me a chance," said Hairless angrily, I'm now going to put you under house arrest and send a report to the leadership, they can do what they want!" "Do what you want, I don't give a shit. Murderers go free and you put me under house arrest, but I'm not alone and I have the people behind me!" "Close your trap again," Hairless shouted, "Now-one will be allowed in or out of your house from today onwards!"

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After the attempt to murder him, Fatso became so upset and enraged that he several times tried to shoot Kadir. Fatso felt so insulted that he couldn't even bear to appear in public. When he was accused of killing innocent people he screamed and stamped his feet on the ground. "I'll kill that bastard, I'll tear the tongue out of that bastard and pull out his eyes. Fucking student bastards that slander us and our leadership.!"

When he heard from his men that Kadir's punishment was nothing more than house arrest, he lost all his control and hurried over to Kadir's house. He shouted so the ground shook: "I'll kill that bastard, I'll show him who I am."

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He kicked in the door and ran into the living room. "Where is that bastard, come out you damned student!" Shama was enraged when she saw Fatso who had a rifle in his hand. She stood in the middle of the steps and shouted: "You'll have to kill me first if you want to go up, or else you can beat it." Kadir loaded his German pistol as quick as he could and raised it with a quivering hand, aiming it at the stairs. "Come up you bastard and I'll kill you!" "Get out of the way, Shama," Fatso shouted, "I've lost all patience now!" "Come up, you bastard, if you dare," Kadir shouted back, "And I'll blow your head off!"

Hairless could hardly contain himself when he heard what had happened, and he drove directly over to Kadir's house. When he came in he shouted at Fatso: "Do you dare defy my orders." "Leave me alone, I have to kill that bastard. I can't take this," Fatso shouted. "He won't get away with it that easily, I take as a gross insult. I only did what I was told to do, but that damned dog came close to shooting me!" "Stop your foolishness," Hairless shouted, "You'll do as I say, that's best for all of us, understand?" "I understand!" he shouted back. "But I won't stand for such humiliation, he has to stay arrested until he gets sentenced." In the end, Hairless gave in to pressure and changed his old decision. Kadir was immediately arrested and sent to the Peshmergas prison in Tawela to await the outcome of an investigation.

After two weeks Kadir had gotten more and more used to life in prison. He was treated well by the guards and they turned a blind eye to the fact that many people came on the sly to visit him and brought along all he needed in the way of food and cigarettes. He lay around with nothing to do during the day and could only feel anger and outrage. He felt inside him that he had done something right and therefore he felt exonerated. What kept his spirits up was the thought of revenge. In addition, he had all the time in the world to think of his life and his thoughts knew no bounds. Memories came back to him of the capital and from his messy room and his friend Assad. It was about five o'clock in the afternoon when the Asser prayer was called out from the mosque. Kadir was awakened form his thoughts and, as every other time, went

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over to the window and looked around. It was almost spring and the birds came to sit on the trees in bloom or flew back and forth. "Spring always arrives with a misfortune," he mumbled, "We'll have to see what it brings this time." He started to dress and it occurred to him that he hadn't had a bath in a long time. The clothes he had on were the same he had been wearing when he was arrested. He sat down and looked for vermin in his clothes. "It makes no sense to kill them," he said, "The whole prison is full of them. I don't remember when I last brushed my teeth. I must be stinking all over although I can't tell it myself since my big nose has lost its sense of smell. The hell with me, I'm so crazy that I get into trouble! Fatso, you swine, just wait, some day you'll be killed."

Time passed and he smoked one cigarette after another. He would stop every now and then but then he would start again: "For God's sake, I'm so stupid," he said. "I'm sitting here and I said what I thought, that the Peshmergas were killing their own kind. I tried to kill the bastard that did it but instead they put me in prison, the bastards. I won't give up. I grew up in this damned city and there isn't a family that hasn't lost a member or an acquaintance, there are constantly more and more black-clad mothers. Every family is split up and some of them live in refugee camps and others have fled to Suleimaniya. There are plenty of Halimas who visit their sons' graves and weep and read hymns. He raised his head to the ceiling. "Did I ask You if I wanted to be created, why could You not have created me somewhere else? What did I do wrong to be born here? It would be better if my mother had had a miscarriage when she was expecting me, I live but I see only killing. How much longer will I have to go through this? How much longer will I mourn or simply cope with living, can't you take my life back?" Kadir's lament was coloured by hopelessness and his experiences would not let him alone.

He lamented to him until he fell asleep and dreamed. Terrified crowds of people rushed towards an abandoned port and Raza and Kadir were among them. There were more and more of them. It was early in the morning and the sun was bright red and the water in the harbour was a beautiful blue colour. The people stood and waited impatiently to sail, they were freezing and the cold wind brushed against their cheeks like sharp sewing needles. There was complete silence and they all stared at each other. They went onboard an old

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ship and the boat sailed off towards the horizon. All of those along, men, women and children were dressed in the same clothes. They stood and stared at the horizon. Suddenly the boat was sucked down in a maelstrom. Shrieking, they all jumped into the water. Kadir and Raza were among them. Raza sank deeper and deeper and Kadir tried to pull him up but he kept losing hold of Raza's hand that had become cold and slimy like a dead fish. Kadir woke up, covered in cold sweat and shrieking: "Raza, Raza, Raza!" The guard came running. "What are you shrieking for, shut up, I thought you'd been bitten by a snake or a spider, keep your mouth shut!"

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Spring 1975

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It was at the beginning of March. One day, early in the morning, the army resumed what it called its "major offensive" and the heavy artillery thundered on without interruption. Iraqi jet fighters dropped their bombs and fired missiles. Saddam gave the order to crush all Peshmerga resistance. The Peshmergas tried to make preparations in their current positions. The army attacked, supported by the air force. Every little step forward cost a lot of blood, mines exploded under military vehicles and anti-tank mortars hit tanks. In addition soldiers were targeted by marksmen hidden in safe positions in the mountains. The Peshmergas destroyed military vehicles and tanks that blocked the narrow mountain roads. For every minute that passed, casualties increased but the army continued its advance. But when dusk fell, the Peshmergas carried out surprise attacks. The army suffered heavy losses and was forced to retreat. Piles of bodies were left lying on the ground, both Peshmergas and Iraqi soldiers were among the dead and wounded. No one had time or any opportunity to tend to them.

After these heavy casualties, Saddam called the members of his government together for an emergency meeting. He realised that it was impossible to defeat the Peshmergas militarily and so he proposed negotiations and nobody dared to oppose what he said. Unanimously, accompanied by loud applause, the decision was taken to negotiate. "We'll agree to Iran's conditions and sign a treaty with them," Saddam sneered. "They can have the three oil islands but when we've taken care of the Peshmergas we'll go back on our promise. No bastard will be allowed to take a metre of Iraq's soil," he said indignantly in a voice that terrified his entourage. "Just now we have no other choice, we are fighting Iran by way of the Peshmergas. They are Iran's way of applying pressure, that is the blunt truth of the matter." The same day Saddam contacted the president of Algeria. The latter became the mediator between Iran and Iraq and it took less than a week before this started to show results. The people were shocked and began to wonder how it was that Iraq was negotiating with Iran but not with the Peshmergas. The Peshmergas confirmed these rumours and condemned the whole thing in advance. "They'll get nowhere. Saddam will never give up even a little piece of Iraqi soil to Iran, they must be dreaming!"

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Time passed and the parties to the conflict sat in negotiations. According to independent sources the parties had been drawing closer and very shortly a joint treaty was announced on both Iraqi and Iranian radio. The people of Halabja awaited the outcome of the negotiations with fear and people had different views on what would happen if agreement were to be reached. Debates broke out between Peshmerga supporters and the rest. "I have a feeling that something serious is going on," Omar said, but I don't know what. I saw Fatso the other day, he said he'd been called in to Hairless. He said it was extremely important but he didn't mention what it was. He drove there in his Landrover, he was driving so fast that he almost ran over a woman on the street." "It doesn't look good," said Baktiar and shook his head, "Imagine, if they reach agreement, what'll then happen to the Peshmergas?" Fadil the tailor who sided with the Peshmergas joined in: "When we started the Peshmerga war," he said, "we didn't ask Iran or Iraq for permission. The treaty has no significance, the Peshmergas will remain where they are. We've now become like a real army. There won't be much difference, things will be as they were before, we'll stay in the mountains and the regime will stay in the towns. We managed to survive for years in the mountains, and we'll do so for years to come. We have so many armed men and so many weapons that they'll be enough for years. We'll go on as usual, since no one can defeat the Peshmergas." "We'll have to wait and see," said Omar. "We've been here in our mountain regions almost forever and we'll be staying here forever too! There won't be any difference, I don't think." Fadil interrupted him: "We don't care if Iran and Iraq reach agreement but I don't think Saddam will ever give away even a little piece of Iraqi soil, no, I won't believe it unless I see it with my own eyes. He makes promises but then he breaks them again, he gave us autonomy but then he took it back again. What is it we're fight for now?" The debate between them continued on until mid-morning prayers were called out from the mosque and everyone went home to eat lunch.

The following day was the first anniversary of the outbreak of the war and all TV channels and the Iraqi radio broadcast a reminder of an important news item. Towards noon, Saddam's picture was shown on the TV screen as was customary. Then Saddam came on and started to talk of the interests of the nation which were in jeopardy. His speech was coloured both by fancy language with occasional threats woven in against those who had betrayed the country to American and Jewish interests. He gave an

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amnesty to everyone who was imprisoned because of the unrest in Kurdistan and those among the Peshmergas who surrendered unconditionally. "Everyone will be given amnesty!" He waved his finger imperiously and simultaneously raised his voice. "Except for the Peshmerga leadership." He sharpened his tone, saying: "We will not forgive those who consciously betrayed their country, we will not engage in any negotiations with those who betrayed their country." He repeated this several times. Then he began to read the treaty item by item and at the end he thanked the Algerians for having helped end the conflict between Iraq and Iran. "As of now the war is over and Iran and we are now like brothers. A holy treaty has resolved the conflict."

People reacted differently, most of them took the news with a grain of salt, some laughed out loud and said: "He's out of his mind, how could it be true that the Peshmergas simply lay down their arms, this doesn't even happen in the wildest of fantasies!"

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Most of the Kurdish leaders had already fled to Iran and others intended to surrender to Iraq. Some of the leaders who had control of Peshmerga money took the opportunity, before total chaos ensued, of expropriating bags filled with money and disappearing.

Ahmad now sat alone in his room, bursting with disappointment and anger at the leadership. He sat there and could not comprehend how the Peshmergas, who were ahead, could capitulate to an army that was worse off. "And why should we do it, it's the regime that's desperate, not us! All this blood has been shed in vain and we are now supposed to lay down our arms and go home!" He just sat there and thought about his fate and what he would do. The end of his days as a Peshmerga triggered his emotions and his experiences came back to him. The faces of Fata and Karim Bey, the black bags and the funeral, all of the bloody battles that he had been through, all of the lives he had put an end to himself, the wounded shrieking from pain - all of this stuck in Ahmad's insides like sharp knives and shook him. He felt like a helpless victim. The killing and thirsting for vengeance had kept him alive. Now

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that would be gone and he would have to come to grips with his inner emotions. The thought occurred to him a few times that he should take his own life and several times he took out his pistol and pointed it towards his head but at the last moment he decided otherwise. It was the thought of a new Peshmerga war that prevented him from doing this. "What will I do," he mumbled and after several hours of brooding he still had difficult deciding whether to head for Iran or to start his own Peshmerga war. He was now in a difficult position where, on the one hand, he wanted to continue the war and on the other hand he had given his word to follow the great leader wherever he went. "I have decided," he told his bodyguards, "I'll go with the great leader to Iran. Iran will take us in as refugees, we can wait and see if a new Peshmerga war breaks out. You are free to come along or not. Anyone who wants can go home and surrender. May God be with them!" The men needed no time to answer: "We'll go to the death with you, we'll follow you. Surrendering to the Iraqi soldiers is out of the question." "We prefer suicide to surrendering to the military. We have nowhere to go and our families have been wiped out." At that silent and painful moment, Ahmad was touched and had a strong feeling of belonging to the group. After a while he took a seat in his Landrover and they all drove towards the Iranian border.

Hairless lay on the sofa, surrounded by his men, in Tawela and waited impatiently for Fatso to arrive. Hairless was this time not mourning the decline of the Peshmergas but his own personal losses. Everything that he had fought for would now be lost in one blow. He tried to imagine what awaited him if he stayed. He realised that his days were numbered and that many people would be only too happy to tear him apart if he remained. His men could hardly recognise Hairless, he seemed sad and pensive. They had a feeling that something serious had happened but none of them had ever thought that there would be a capitulation or that Hairless' time as a man with the power of life and death over others would soon be over, that he would be alone with many enemies on the prowl, enemies that would like to skin and burn him alive if they could. He would be just as helpless as others had been when at his mercy. "I have to think of myself, how to get out of this fix," Hairless tried constantly to think about and analyse his situation. "I can't trust anyone but Fatso. I have to be on my guard so that no-body shoots me. There are plenty of people that would like to, even my

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own bodyguards if they had a chance. Where are you, Fatso, the two of us are in the same boat!" Fatso's fate was no better than his own, Hairless thought, sneering. "What will happen to him. Everyone they mistreated, humiliated or tortured? Those that he had kicked and thrown into prison without a trial?" He thought of all the reports he had written about suspected persons who had another opinion, reports that had landed people in jail. "Most of them are alive and certainly don't intend to forgive any of us without further ado!"

When Fatso got to Hairless, he said: "What's the matter?" Hairless shouted at his men, saying: "Leave us alone! We have to leave for Iran tonight, if we stay they'll tear us apart. Do you think Kadir is going to leave us alone, he's just one of those that you mistreated. You have lots of enemies, come with me to Iran, its over now, I'm telling you this because I feel sorry for you and you're the only person I trust. The Peshmergas are capitulating tomorrow when Iran and Iraq sign the treaty in Algeria. Fatso was shocked and thought Hairless was joking. He shook his head. Hairless explained things even more pointedly. "Don't you understand what I'm saying, I've been to see the leadership and I know what I'm talking about? It's over!" "Do you really mean that?" Fatso said, losing the colour in his face. He tried to say something that escaped him. "It's true, tonight we'll leave this shit behind us and flee to Iran. We'll take the cash with us and split it, we have families and children to think of and, in addition, we've fought for it with our own blood. We have to save ourselves, soon a new Peshmerga war will start and we'll get our positions back. Don't think Iran and Iraq will ever agree forever. Soon Saddam will go back on his promises as he did with us. Imagine, then the Peshmergas will need us and our experience is worth gold, we have to watch out for ourselves!" "Then let's go, we have nothing to lose," Fatso answered in euphoria. "Now we have to rely on our own efforts, not tell anyone anything. We are totally crazy if we stay here any longer! If we don't flee you will soon be a target for a thousand bullets. We have to hurry before it's too late." When dusk fell, Hairless and Fatso were already sitting in a fully loaded Landrover driving out towards the rocky mountain roads in the direction of the Iranian border.

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Early in the morning when it was time for the radio's Peshmerga broadcast, they started by reading from the Koran while all the time including reminders of an important announcement. It was about eight o'clock when the radio announced that the Kurdish leadership had agreed to unconditional surrender. The revolution had failed this time. "All Peshmergas must hand their arms in to either Iran or Iraq!" A feeling of despair broke out and everyone was so appalled that they could hardly believe their ears that such a large army as their Peshmergas had been was giving up its weapons. "This isn't right, how did this happen?" Many openly wept and others ran back and forth aimlessly. It wasn't long before thousands of people came back to town overnight and towards dawn the Iraqi army returned to Halabja. Many queued up to hand in their arms.

After morning prayers Halima decided to first visit Raza's grave and then to go into town and pay the blind Mullah who performed a Katem for Raza. Halima's belief in God and her conviction that she would see her son again in Paradise made it possible for her to cope with all the grief and longing that she felt inside. She felt lonely and abandoned and was very disappointed with her husband Mahmod. She needed him at her side but instead he was incarcerated somewhere in the regime's prison. She could not forgive him for what he had done to her and the family but still she prayed for him in her morning prayers. First she went straight to the cemetery and there she stayed for quite a while reading hymn after hymn before going back to Halabja. She walked with a slow and depressed gait and inside her she was lost in the past. Everything reminded her of Raza places, pictures, friends, playmates, the road in to town with a slow gait and a broken heart she carried her thoughts inside her. When she got to town she was astonished at how much was going on and the commotion and the fact that restaurants and shops had opened up. Peshmergas and thousands of families crowded into the city, coming in cars, buses, lorries and horse-drawn carts with families crowded on or in them. Many adult men were openly crying. A black-clad woman beat her head and her breast with her arms. Children ran back and forth. Some of them were carrying rifles and pistols. She approached the crowd with her gaze fixed uneasily on it. Halima could not understand the sudden change in town and waited impatiently to find out what had happened.

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"What could it be?" she wondered. "What a lot of commotion! What are all these people doing here? So many strangers! What can it be?" "What is going on, what has happened?" She asked passers-by preoccupied with their own affairs who merely rushed by and shook their heads. Who cared about an old woman, who had any time to listen to her? But Halima was stubborn and went around asking for Omar. An angry young man shouted at her in a loud voice: "Beat it! What are you doing here? Who the hell is Omar? We've never heard about any such bastard! It's the end of everything, don't you get it, can't you see with your own eyes, what did you want to know, you old bag? Get out of here!"

Halima grew increasingly sad and nervous and at the same time she got to visiting the old neighbourhood where Shama might be able to tell her what had happened. On her way there she saw Omar and they rushed up to each other and embraced: "How nice," she wept, "Please Omar, tell me what has happened!" "The Peshmergas have capitulated," he said in a sad voice. The war has been lost and everyone is to surrender to government forces!" "What do you mean?" she asked in despair. "Is there a cease-fire?" "No, the Peshmergas are laying down their arms." "I don't understand anything," she said in astonishment. "How can fifty thousand Peshmerga soldiers simply hand in their arms?" "Iran had its demands satisfied," Omar said. "They have signed a treaty in Algeria about the islands and Iran has in turn obligated itself not to support the Peshmergas any more." Halima was totally crushed, she remembered the day when Raza's blood-covered body was brought home. She could not see or hear anything, she simply stood there like a statue with the words drying on her lips. After a while Omar spoke to her: "Come, we'll go home, Nadia is waiting for you!" "No, I have to go back to the village." She tried to say something but couldn't bring it out and rushed off to return to the village. She ran and wept and felt an enormous need to grieve out loud just as she had done that day when Raza died. In a loud voice she began to sing songs of lament. With a bleeding heart and with all her grief and disappointment inside her, she trod the path to the village all by herself. She beat her head: "You godless people who have no feelings. I lost a son Raza and you flee, you monsters with no feelings, you henchmen! Your children live in safety! You sacrificed my only son, my flesh and blood. You have made a hell of my life and that of Shirin and

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now you're leaving the country. What is the point of my life without him, tell me my God. I'm crushed! I don't know anything and I don't want to know anything. I still don't know why my son Raza had to die. You have sent my son to the grave and now you are laying down your arms, where has the revolution gone?"

She approached the village where people had by now heard the news. With her head bowed, she slowly walked towards her home where the neighbouring women came forward to meet her. Shirin was pale and looked sick. They hugged each other and their crying and keening caused many others to gather around them.

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On this early weekday the sun was already high in the sky and Kadir was lying on a dirty mattress in his cell. He suddenly perked up when he heard footsteps. He became curious and quickly looking out the window he saw something unusual. The entire place was in commotion, Peshmergas were walking up and down, shouts and curses battered Kadir's ear like a wave on the shore. He had an inkling that something had happened but did not know what. It wasn't long before the guards opened his door and told him: "Hurry up, you're free, you can go where you want!" "What's this," said Kadir, taken aback, "Are you kidding me, what do you mean, what's happened?" "Haven't you heard yet?" the guard said, raising his voice. "Get up, the mill is being closed." Kadir looked inquisitively at him, not grasping anything he said. "What are you talking about? Do you think I'm a peasant, what do I care if the mill is open or closed!" The guard slapped him on the back. "Come out, that's just a saying, you say that the mill is closing when everything has been lost. The Peshmergas have capitulated. The war is over. Everyone is heading off, some to Iraq, some to Iran. Can't you see that everyone wants to filch something, we've cleaned out all of our stocks. There are no more Peshmergas here any more. They've closed their offices and shops, we're going home. There's no more to it. I have no time, time is money!" Then he rushed off.

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Kadir was so bewildered that it took quite a while before he took his first step. On the way out he found some rifles that lay thrown on the ground. He picked one up and checked that everything was in order. "Where are you hiding now., Fatso?" He started to talk to himself: "I'm coming now, you damned murderer, I swear on the Koran that I'll empty the whole magazine into your fat carcass. I'll take revenge, everyone from Fatih to Mahmod and all of those you've mistreated. Now I have the chance, you damned idiot, you're going to be punished!" He went straight to the centre of Tawela and there he walked around looking for Fatso. He became increasingly tense and angry in searching.

All Tawela was on the move. Some were angry and desperate and openly complained: "How can an army like the Peshmerga give up without a fight and simply surrender with their tail between their legs to the Iraqi regime or flee to Iran?" For many faithful Peshmergas this was a humiliation worse than death, to throw down their arms without fighting was the worst thing that could happen, a weapon was an important part of a person's honour. For other Peshmergas who just went with the flow the situation was different. Captain Farok and many others were among the first to plunder the Peshmerga commissaries and military inventories. Farok in addition bought up guns at a cheap price with an idea of later surrendering everything to the Iraqi army and thus getting more compensation for every gun he handed in. When Kadir passed by him he became red in the face and cast his eyes down like someone caught in the act. "I don't like what I'm doing," said Farok softly, "But I have a family to support and if I don't do it, others will." "What are you doing with so many weapons," Kadir wondered. "Look around you at all these Peshmergas. Everyone who bears arms is trying to get rid of them. I'm taking the opportunity to try to do some business with a little profit." Kadir couldn't believe his ears and for a second he thought he was dreaming. How was such a thing possible, he looked disgustedly at Farok and said: "Do you know whom I'm looking for? I'm looking for Fatso, have you seen him?" "That idiot knew in advance what was coming. He and Hairless cleaned out the Peshmerga treasury and fled to Iran. You're not the only one looking for him, but he was ahead of everyone else." All of Kadir's strength left him, he just stood there, rigid, not knowing what to do.

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"I swear I'll kill you someday, you bastard," he shouted into the air. Just at that moment someone shouted in his ear: "One dinar for your rifle!" Kadir looked at the boy with anger in his eyes: "Beat it, otherwise I'll empty my magazine on your!" The little boy got scared and rushed past. "Why do you get angry, I just want to do business with you, labour is God's work, why did you get angry with me?"

In this chaos and confusion Kadir stood there and didn't know where to go. Should he surrender to Iraqi soldiers or live in exile? He looked around him. He saw how others were trying to steal property. In a state of shock he wandered across the whole town, filled with rage, trying to find something to direct his anger and aggression at: "Where are you now, our clever, far-sighted leaders? Now you are nothing. You've cut off our moustaches and forced us to look at ourselves in the mirror. Tell us how we're to cope with this humiliation! Now we're marked for life!" Kadir's heart pounded with disappointment about this great loss. "In every town, in every village," he thought, "in this country there are so many like Halima and Shirin, immersed in grief. Who cares about them? What will the Peshmergas say to them?" He wandered around aimlessly, looking like a beggar that hadn't washed for a long time, his mussed up dirty hair and long beard stinking, with rings from old dried-out sweat on his clothing.

Towards evening he got a lift with a lorry heading for Halabja, overflowing with Peshmergas that wanted to turn themselves in. The mood was silent and depressed, everyone looked sad and their hearts were filled with bitterness and disappointment. They were trying to prepare themselves mentally for the sudden shifts, with their heads bowed in their arms, thoughts turning in their heads: "What will we say to anyone that's lost one or more people in their family. Families that have had their houses or their shops destroyed. What will we say to fatherless children or homeless families? Who is guilty, who is the traitor? Where are you, our dear leaders? We miss you. Don't you have any heart or any feeling in you? You played with our lives, but where are you now, you cowardly and shameless bastards? Why have you done what you did? Why did you risk the lives of these people? Why did you then capitulate?"

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When they got there, a long line of vehicles was already queuing up in front of them and all of the cars, busses and lorries were packed full. Near the guard post at the city limits there stood a huge sign, in Arabic: Alaidon Huma Almuntassiron, Saddam Hussein - "They who surrender are also victors, Saddam Hussein." All of them got out of their car and threw their weapons down in a pile, each one shouting his name and his address and then they drove to Halabja.

The same day Amina drove home to Halabja together with Narmin and when she got to the neighbourhood Assim came running towards her. She wept uncontrollably and said: "Welcome back, how is Little Brother?" "He'll be released soon." Toana ran inside and announced that they were back. Shama rushed out and Amina was given a warm welcome. Shama turned to Toana and said: "Run and tell Nadia and Omar that Amina is back, then I'll give you a coin. Toana ran like the wind and it wasn't long before Omar, Nadia and the family were all gathered around Amina, asking where Kadir was, but none of them said what they knew: "He's in Tawela, he'll be here any moment!"

When Kadir came in the door he was met by Shama saying: "Are you back?" She came up to him and kissed his head. "You mother is back with Narmin." Kadir did not act like himself, at that moment he felt only anger. Toana and his sisters quickly ran to the door, shouting: "Kadir's back." Amina rushed up, with tears in her eyes when she gave Kadir a motherly hug. "Thank you, Good God that you brought my son back to me! Thank you, Good God, that he's unharmed. Let me see" She mustered him carefully. "My son, you've grown quite thin. You haven't eaten properly for some time." A warm feeling went through Kadir when he hugged his mother and his sister. He realised how many wonderful moments he had missed out on during the time when they were separated from each other.

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Amina called our for Shama: "Set the table and serve the best food you've made, my darling is hungry." "I can't eat," he said. "I've lost my appetite." "But you are forced to," Amina said. "Okay, but don't you see what I look like, I haven't had a bath in weeks, I stink like hell and am full of lice." Shama quickly put a pot of water on the stove and Amina took out a fresh set of clothes. Everyone waited for Kadir and when he finally came they all sat down together at the table and ate their dinner. Kadir was subdued and they could all see that it wasn't the same Kadir that he had been a year earlier. He preferred to remain silent and he sat there with his own thoughts. Even Toana had discovered that Kadir was depressed since he did not want to play with him or tell him any stories.

That evening was unique and discontent and complaining about the situation in the country was inevitable. They had hardly sat down in the living room before the debate started. Amina had never been as uneasy as she was this evening. She saw the emptiness in Kadir's eyes and she recognised the expression on his face from the day when Blue Eye had been killed. "Do you know, Kadir, that tomorrow Little Brother will be released together with Mahmod. Sirwan will drive straight to Mosul and will meet up there with Alan who's coming straight from Baghdad. Tomorrow they will all be coming home." "Poor Mahmod," said Shama. "I feel sorry for him. Imagine, he'll be coming home to find out that his only child Raza is no longer alive. My heart is bursting with sadness when I think of him." Kadir simply stared around him, saying nothing. "You don't look happy, my son, I who prayed to God today that he would protect you and now I see that you're crushed with sadness." Kadir broke his silence: "You might instead have asked him to have me killed and spared me from getting through this miserable day."

Shama served tea and then she sat down next to Amina and took the opportunity to say: "No one can describe what we've been through. As our wise prophet says, 'There is always a way out, some sense and in victory or defeat life goes on.' Now the point is to look to the future and save what can be saved, one can't undo what has been done and we are only ordinary simple people. Who asks us or sees that we exist? Did anyone ask me or my family when the Peshmergas started the war, did they ask me when they capitulated?

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Believe me there is always a ray of hope. I lost my house but all my children are unharmed, that is what is important, everything else is just air!" She took a deep breath before going on: "If the Peshmergas had not capitulated, what would have happened to Little Brother and Mahmod who will now be released shortly. Halima has had luck in all her misery!" "It is easy to say that," Kadir interrupted her, and it seemed as if he was back in form. "To go on living, I'm a human being and I have feelings, I'm not a stone, I have a heart, how can I look people in the eye after this defeat. My papa gave his life and thousands have done the same. And now everything is finished! I feel crushed, deceived, raped, in addition I'm guilty too, my hands are just as bloody as theirs are! This is what I feel," he said, on the verge of crying. Unfortunately I have this feeling and I can't get over it. I lost my cousin who was like a brother to me. I risked my life and was close to death many times. Unfortunately I had luck on my side all those times! I'm enraged and I don't know how the Peshmerga leadership reasoned and how they let an entire army capitulate without fighting. It would have been better to have taken my life than to see and experience this defeat!" Shama shouted at Toana: "I've told you a hundred times," she said, twisting his ears, "Not to draw with white chalk on the walls! You've destroyed every wall in the house!" Toana cried form the pain and tried to slip away from her grasp. He sat down on Kadir's knee and Kadir patted him, combed his hair and said: "You brat, listen to what your mama says!" "What did you say, son?" Amina said angrily, thinking about what Kadir had said, that he should have taken his own life. "I'm not deaf, I hear you, sometimes you're not all there. Why do you bear other people's problems on your shoulders? You are not the only one who was a Peshmerga, there were thousands of them, who cares about what you did now that everyone has been amnestied? Thank God that we haven't lost even more, only Raza." She burst out crying uncontrollably. "May God forgive him." She dried her tears. "It is not too late, you can be an uncle to Raza's child, that is what is important, that his name is not extinguished, thank God." "I don't thank Him, why should I do so? For not having taken my life? No, I'll never do it, my life is complete chaos and a mess. My life was ruined a long time ago, that day when I was born in this forsaken country."

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"You are very angry about what has happened," Amina said, "about the Peshmergas losing and because we all have a depressing time ahead of us. I recognise you. You have had experiences that you were forced to go through. This is too bad, but that is what war is and we can't influence it. We have to think of the future and you have only a few months left to your exams. I know that it's hard to go back to university." "There are events that are beyond our control," Omar interrupted, "They occur with or without help but they affect us in our lives. The Peshmerga war went on with or without your assistance. It is not your fault that Raza was killed and you were not the one who forced him to take part in the fighting," Omar reassured him. "As long as there have been Kurds, there has been killing and if it were not against the Arabs then it was against the Persians or the Turks!" "I feel like a traitor to my own people. I have my hands coloured by Raza's blood and with the blood of many others and I can't suppress the thought that I have been responsible for other people's death. The Peshmergas have lost and the regime can do what it wants with us. There were a lot of casualties but what can we do about that? We have no choice. They are laying down their arms, Iran and Iraq have reached an agreement. What can we do about that?" "You, Kadir, listen to what I have to say, you had no choice, you were forced to go with the Peshmerga. You are not responsible for anyone else's death. What difference does it make, there has always been killing. You must know something, Kadir, it is not anyone's fault," said Omar before turning to Nadia: "Can you get the matches, I want to smoke a cigarette," he said, going on: "You inherit war in our region, it sits in your genes. It has been that way in this country and it will continue for a long time. I promise you that soon a new armed group will arise with new ideals and a new Peshmerga war will start in the mountains. Listen to me! Raza is dead and nothing can bring him back to life, but thank God that Shirin is pregnant and her baby will soon be born." "I know you've taken Raza's death very hard," Shama said, "I know it if no one else does."

Kadir sat silent and depressed, he had an urge to flee from where he was back to the mountains. He felt like a stranger and felt that he no longer had anything in common with the others. He wasn't the same person and he didn't recognise them anymore. Amina became worried when she saw how Kadir was. Everyone tried to console and encourage him but he was absent and depressed. He answered only very tersely and unwillingly.

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The family debate was interrupted when Assim came in with a few neighbours, staying until late at night. Amina looked at the clock on the wall and wished that the guests would go home so that she could visit Halima in the village. She sat there on tenterhooks and Omar understood what she was thinking, her face was sad and she recalled that she had not gotten permission to leave Suleimaniya to be present to mourn for Raza. When all of the guests finally went home, Omar asked Amina how things were with her. "I can only think of Halima," she said on the verge of tears. "I want to visit them, I feel so guilty that I wasn't present when she needed me most, the poor woman. Drive me over to her, Omar, I have to see her!" "Yes, of course," Omar said, waiting for her while she got ready. Amina walked around as if she had forgotten something but then she remembered what it was. She turned to Kadir and kissed his head before she left. When night came, Kadir went up to his room. It looked exactly as when he had left it, everything was in its place, except that where before there had been a picture of the Kurdish leader now there was a picture of Saddam Hussein. He lay down on the bed and let his memories file past him from the unlimited reserves that had collected inside him. He tossed and turned for a long time before he fell asleep.

It was dark outside when evening prayers were called out from the mosque. Halima began her evening prayers and remained on her barmal reading the Koran, hymn after hymn. Then she finished her prayers with the usual lamentation. She sang it out in a mild voice so that she could hardly hear herself and suddenly she burst out crying out loud: "Oh, my God, what have I done to deserve such pain," she wept, "May death come to my assistance! Do you know, my Great One, what pain I have gone through and I will have to live with it as long as I live? The torrents of sorrow falls so heavily on me that I can no longer bear it! I am lost without your help, will I make it without that? My almighty God! I lost my son and not only that - now my stubborn husband is serving a sentence in Mosul prison."

Halima kept up with her lament for a long time and Shirin lay exhausted on her bed. She was in late pregnancy and her belly had now stopped growing. The baby inside her was kicking this way and that, complaining about the lack of room inside. Shirin was nervous about the delivery and prayed to God that she would have her baby without any problems. When Omar parked his car outside of her door, Halima at first took fright and got up quickly and went to the door. "Open up," Omar said, "It's me and aunt Amina."

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They started to cry so loud that the attracted the attention of the whole village. They embraced each other and wept for a long time without saying anything. After a while, Omar drove back and left the women alone in the house. "God only knows how much I missed you," Amina said in tears. "God only knows how I grieved. The godless ones did not give me permission to leave town to come to you," she went on, weeping. "Believe me, I haven't missed a prayer for Raza a single time." "Pray to God that it doesn't get worse, we should never complain about God's work, that brings misfortune."

After a while they sat down on the mattresses that lay about in the room. A sad atmosphere pervaded their get-together. Every now and then they cried until they fell asleep. Towards dawn when they awoke they heard Shirin crying out in labour: "It hurts, it's time!" Halima rushed out to put a large pot of water on the stove and Amina ran out to get the village midwife to come. "Don't worry, with God's help everything will go well!" said the experienced old woman when she arrived to take care of Shirin. It wasn't long before several of the neighbouring women came.

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The next day when he woke up Kadir had such violent emotions that he cried for a long time in his room. He gasped from disappointment and emptiness, for hours on end he didn't know what he was to do or where he was. Shama called Toana: "Go, you little donkey, and wake Kadir up, tell him to come down and eat." Toana immediately ran to Kadir's room. "Wake up, Kadir, mama says you should eat. Can we play then?" "We'll have to see," said Kadir, patting him. "Where have you been, Kadir, you've been away for a long time?" Toana asked, looking innocently at Kadir. "Nowhere, my little friend," Kadir said. "You don't play with me anymore!" Toana complained, "You just lie here and sleep!"

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Shama put breakfast on the table with all the goodies one could imagine. Kadir ate little, thanked her for the meal and then went back to his room. It was twelve noon but Kadir was still in his room and Toana rushed to race up the stairs. Shama stopped him: "Leave him alone, he's a little sick and doesn't feel well." Shama understood that Kadir was having a hard time. Kadir took a pack of cigarettes from the table and talked to himself the entire time. He felt completely crushed from grief and hopelessness and disappointment gnawed inside him: "I should have known better but now it's too late. Now hatred has cast its anchor and darkened my vision, how in the world will it end with people like Fatso and Hairless who only know a single thing - how to kill and get killed. Those bastards didn't even hesitate to bomb their own kind! Fatih Green Eye and his family were sacrificed - for what good? Where are you, you bastard, Fatso?" he said in an angry voice. "If I ever just find you I'll tear you to bits!" Suddenly friends from his childhood appeared before him in his thoughts and tears welled up in his eyes when he remembered Blue Eye's and Big Head's faces beaming with joy when they were told to go find leftovers for the dogs to eat. Anger took hold of Kadir when he remembered Dog Killer's pale face with his rifle in his hands and the Widow's rejoicing over the slaughter. "They always killed all joy!" He lit another cigarette and sank back again into his thoughts. "To hell with all struggle and revolution, as long as you fight for something, be it religion or the fatherland. We follow the wave, my father sacrificed his life for his damned fatherland. Why do I have to follow in his footsteps? Revolution, just a damned cog in the machinery of death, the hell with it!" "What do I have now, almighty God?" he asked, turning towards heaven and continuing on in an indignant voice: "Everyone who meant something to me is gone, the only thing I have left is my anger, my wrath and my hatred. I feel only emptiness. Just tell me, do you know what it's like for me now? I'm scared, fear is lodged in my breast! Where will I get the strength to live? Where does the limit of suffering run? What is the sense of such a life? Everything I have experienced is senseless! I live, but I have lost my soul. There is no place for me where I can find consolation, I'll give my life back to you." Kadir stood up and looked at some kids playing in the ruins and he thought of the lines he knew by heart: "We are born from the bosom of darkness. We become evil and the forces of darkness ourselves! It is only they that hold the world together. We live in it, we are born

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into it and we can't see in front of our faces. We are drawn in with the wave and the security guards controlled us as they liked, they had eyes everywhere, even the trees and the walls grew eyes and ears. We had to close our mouths, our ears and our eyes."

Afternoon prayers were being called out and Kadir was once again awakened from his thoughts. He quickly got out of bed and put his clothes on and was on his way out. He had hardly put his foot beyond the door when Toana came running to him crying: "The bastards, they want me to play with them," he cried and stamped his feet. "They're nasty to me!" He found a few stones on the ground that he threw at the children. Kadir held him back and took the stones away. "Stop that," Kadir said gently. "Stop crying, here you have ten fils, go and buy sweets from Osman." Toana forgot all the squabbling and rushed off to Osman's store. Kadir turned to the other child and sternly said: "You have to be nice to each other, you brats!," he told them as he went off.

On the way into town he first stopped to buy a pack of cigarettes and then some fresh orange juice from street vendors in the market. Kadir was forced to say hello and to chat or drink something with many of them that had returned to Halabja. Time passed and when Kadir looked at the clock on the wall, he said: "My God, that can't be, it can't be that late." It was almost three o'clock and a strong pang of hunger went through his body. His desire to eat some kebab made him forget all the killing, war and hell. He went to Hamala's restaurant where he frequently went to eat since the kebab there was the best in town. After eating he was unconsciously drawn to the village. He went on walking with a determined gait, feeling nauseous when he realised what was waiting for him. He would soon go back to Baghdad and finish his education. It was a difficult decision to go back with his head bowed as a loser. "What do I care, my cousin Raza is dead and Ahmad is doomed to live for revenge," he thought. He regretted everything and cursed the Peshmergas. "I trusted you blindly and I followed in my dead papa's footsteps. You have destroyed my life and everyone else's life, you damned traitors - to just give up without any explanation, fifty thousand armed Peshmergas handing in their arms! Now I don't give a shit about it all, this life scares me, it makes me sick. Why don't I ever learn

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anything, I have only other people's problems on my shoulders, now I need someone to listen to my heart but there is no one. I thought I could do everything and never listened to anyone, why am I like this, what do I have to do with the country and the nation?" He felt a wave of nausea when he remembered how he collapsed and lay there when they assaulted his father Brahem, he remembered the day when Blue Eye died and finally when he found Raza dead in the mountains. These images would always come back to him every day for the rest of his life. And every time they would overwhelm him with pain and helplessness. "I grew up and lived with fear in my heart the entire time. When will it be my turn? I have run all my life and there was no place for me to run to. I put the finger on Fatso but they threw me into prison, instead of him. Some day I'll kill him, that damned murderer!" Every step he took was full of anxiety and yearning. He became more and more depressed as if he was going to his own funeral. "Freedom demands our lives," he said indignantly and spat on the ground. "Just empty words and in the name of freedom so many insanities are committed! My papa sacrificed his life, my cousin did it, many others did it. Some fight for it and some against it, what is it they really want to prove? What are they out after? There is food and money for everyone, why do we devour each other? What is freedom after all? If we had not been blinded by freedom then so many innocent people would not have died fighting."

He continued on and couldn't think of anything else, he felt he shared the guilt and that he had betrayed his people, that his hands were coloured with other people's blood. There was a lump in his throat. "You damned idiot, you fought for a free Kurdistan, now you don't exist anymore, you fooled others into taking responsibility for their country and their people and they got killed and you survived. What will you say now to aunt Halima?" Kadir wished he had never existed or that he had died in Raza's stead. "I know my people," he thought and shook his head. "We can't live without rebellion! We rise up and are beaten down again. It's been that way as long as we can remember and it will continue to be that way as long as we live. I curse it all, now I will freely say what I feel about everything!" He spoke loudly to himself: "My pain is nothing compared with that of others, but it is still pain for me! Everything I tell you makes no sense. I've been to more than a hundred funerals. I have seen ruined cities and villages, everything in ruins in just one year! Now I am back to the memories I wish I didn't have. I remember when I was a child and saw a dead person for

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the first time. I wished that I could breath life back into him. As an adult I would like to turn the clock back. I'm living but I've lost my soul! Thanks to the Peshmerga war! Damned cowards, blackguards who started the war and then fled without any reason. To simply give up their weapons, you are all alike, there will never be any difference. I followed in my papa's footsteps and you betrayed me, you believed Fatso, the coldblooded murderer and threw me into prison and I thought I would never live to see life outside it again." Deep mourning for Raza gnawed away at him inside.

On his way to Halima's house Kadir was met by the villagers congratulating him. They cried out happily. "Shirin has had her baby!" In an instant Kadir's faced changed. His eyes were filled with tears of joy and he repeated to himself: "Thank God!" Before he entered the house a chubby little boy came up to him with his hand stretched out. "Give me a coin. Shirin has had a little girl."

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Epilogue (2004)

Then sixteenth of March 1988 is a day that Kurds will never forget. The city of Halabja where I was born and raised was gassed by Saddam Hussein. Everyone that I knew, loved and hated lived in Halabja. I listened to the news in tears, all the experiences that I had tried to forget for so many years reappeared from their hiding places in my soul and danced in front of my eyes, a dance of despair. My thoughts flew back and forth and bolted forth like wild horses running aimlessly. I heard people's voices crying out inside me: "What happened to my family? Can I get any news? Can I know definitely?" I kept looking at the same TV footage over and over again. "My God. May it not be true!" was the only comment I could make. "My God! May it not be true!" Thousands of people, adults as well as children, lay dead on meadows in bloom, in houses, among the ruins. Some of the dead tightly clasping their children, people that had been fleeing, they were lying pressed against walls or in shelters or had crept together in a closet in their bungalows.

Four years later I visited the city of Halabja. At first sight the city looked as if it had only been bombed the day before. I could not believe my eyes. It was not the town that I had once left, where I had grown up, it dawned on me: where are the people? I walked past ruin after ruin, wandering up and down streets, in all of my own neighbourhood I could not see a single house that had survived, including the house where I spent my childhood of which only the wreckage was left. I searched through the wreckage and found my boyhood room, a path that had survived. I recognised the wall drawings I had made when I was a child. This was all that was left of my childhood. I sat down among the ruins and tried in my mind to turn the clock back to the town and the people that had once lived there. I looked inside me to see my old neighbourhood. I heard the voices of kids, shouting and joking, I heard their happy voices and I heard the women sitting in front of their houses, complaining and gossiping, I saw the neighbourhood peddlers driving by, their voices could be heard far away. That was when I decided to write a novel about those people, about peace, violence and senselessness, love and hope, good and bad, fear and war.

The later fate of some of the novel's characters

Cousin Omar and all of his family (Nadia and the children Tara, Hanna, Delba, Narin, Shadi, Awat and Heva) were exterminated in the gas attack. A widely publicised

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photo from Halabja showed Omar where he lay dead together with his infant child in his arms. His son Heva protruded out from under his father's protective arm, his face petrified while crying out.

Assim, her six children, the writer of the petition Sharazori, his wife and his son Shanjar all died in the gas attack. His daughter Roshna was the only one who survived. Her father, the photographer Omar, her mother and five siblings were killed in the gas attack. She lived with the dead bodies for three days until Kurdish guerrilla soldiers rescued her.

Amina died in her home in Suleimaniya in 1993. Sirwan and his wife and five children were deported to southern Iraq in 1988. They are almost certainly dead. Little Brother is Alan's assistant and takes care of his business, most of which revolves around smuggling. Narmin lives in Suleimaniya with his family, he has five children.

A few of the victims of the gas attack now live in Sweden. Mahmod the socialist died in Suleimaniya in 1989. Halima practically went blind from so much crying after Raza's death, she herself died in 1991. Shirin remarried. She now lives with her new husband and their two children. Fadil the tailor still lives in Suleimaniya; the barber Baktiar has a salon in Suleimaniya. Shama lives with her son Toana in Suleimaniya. Hairless and Fatso were killed in battle. Ahmad is still alive and plays an important role in Kurdistan.

Halabja today

No other city in Kurdistan was hit as hard as Halabja. The town lies near the border between Iran and Iraq. The people of Halabja lived under terror, oppression and killing for 43 years before they were liberated in 2003. Every year a little bit of the city died until it was completely wiped out in 1988. A tragedy like this can only be compared with Hitler's destruction of the Jews, Saddam having turned the town into one huge gas chamber! The long-term effects of the gas attacks with genetic mutations, not just with people but with fauna and flora as well, have increasingly been the focus of attention. For the injured who survived the gas attack, the tragedy goes on with maimed or deformed bodies, skin eruptions, spinal complaints and breathing difficulties, increased frequency of miscarriage and a high frequency of lung cancer. Thousands of Halabja residents fled to Suleimaniya and were seized by Saddam's men and were deported from there and suffered an agonising death. Other survivors fanned out and now live

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throughout the entire country, some became refugees in Iran and other countries. It was for that reason that people are still not certain who managed to survive and who did not.

Halabja is living historical evidence of Saddam's use of weapons of mass destruction and genocide against civilians in Kurdistan. Saddam and others who were responsible have been seized and will soon be brought to trial for their crimes. It would be an act of justice if the trials of such persons were held in Halabja. Halabja attracted the world's attention and a dignified monument for Halabja's victims has now been built so that future generations will not forget that sinister chapter in Iraq's history. But today, after 16 years, very little has been done for Halabja. Traces of war haunt the town and the ruins still stand where they were and destruction is unusually widespread. Iraq as a country is responsible for the horrible things that happened in Halabja. Iraq as a country bears responsibility for the victims in Halabja and for the suffering of the survivors and for the 15,000 homes and businesses destroyed in Halabja. It is also Iraq's liability to compensate the victims and the survivors and to build the city that was destroyed. Reconstruction is not the responsibility of the local Kurdish government but that of the central government. In order to carry out such costly reconstruction, Kurdish leaders led by Masood Barzani and Jalal Talabani would have to be more assertive than they are at present: They should demand that the central government decide on a special budget for Halabja's reconstruction. That would be the least one could do to honour the city and its victims.

I dedicate this book to all who fell victim to war and all those survivors who suffer from painful memories and losses, in Kurdistan and other war-torn areas around the globe.

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Abbo Issam Abde Abdol Abdulbast Addo Adel Adil Aha Big Head Aha MoustacheLess Ahmad Akram Rash Alan

Arab criminal in Mosul prison Kurdish student, dissident supporter and stool pigeon Peshmerga leader A singer, a cassette of hymns sung by Abdulbast is played in Alans car on the way to Kurdistan Shirin's brother Sali's driver Boy in the neighbourhood, becomes a Peshmerga Beggar Husband of Sabri

Good Peshmerga commander, father killed in feud Ahmad's assistant Kadir's maternal uncle, brother of Amina, successful businessman in Baghdad Ama Sali's mother, treated by everyone as a whore, she later goes to Baghdad and lives there as respected wife of an Arab Amina Kadir's mother Assa Noselength Wife of the butcher Assad Friend of Kadir at university Attah family Gave Raza a useless present Aula Mother of the girl Kadir is attracted to Awat Alan's son Aza-Nagma Woman (?) Azi Violent killer, dissident Bakr Historical personality, Saddam's co-ruler in the beginning Baktiar Barber Barzani Historical figure, Kurdish leader Bastard Name given to Sali Behram Bey Socialist, tauli champion Bery Daughter of Alan and Merem Big Eared Big Head Neighbourhood boy Black Abba Kid of Kadir's neighbour in Halabja Black Nasim Man who killed Ahmad's father Blue Eyed Brahem Kadir's father, killed in prison Captain Farok Peshmerga officer Cross Eyed Used only as an example Delba Daughter of Nadia Doctor Jamal Doctor in prison with Mahmod Dog Killer Man who kills dogs at the behest of complainants Doran Peshmerga captain, Kadir's cousin Fadi the Doctor Physician, doctor with the breakaway faction Fadil Tailor Fahmi Math teacher, sexually abused Sali Fat Tala (play on word talaq), Husband of Nasrin, they divorce Fata Ahmad's mother, Karim Bey's housekeeper Fatih Boy in the neighbourhood, later killed when Peshmerga shell Halabja Fatih Green Eye Boy, wounded in bomb attack Fatso Neighbourhood bully, follower of Hairless (brother?)

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Fatuma Fox Eye Gorilla Grey Salim Hairless Halima Hama Rashid Hamala Hana Hapsa Hassan Hook Nose Hussain Ibrahem Issa Arab Kadir Kala Karim Bey Khalid Komri Little Brother Long Green Eye Mahmod Menig Merem Mohamed the Profet Mullah Hama Mullah Jalal Nadia Nadim Nadir Naffe Nagma Nala Narin Narin Nasrin Nazmi Nihayat Omar One Eye Osman Otman Portly Osman Rabia Rashid Raza Sabri Saddam Hussein Sali

Intended victim of Hairless and Fatso, outsmarts them Breakaway faction's security gorilla Fellow prisoner with Little Brother in Mosul Fatso's protector (brother?) Mahmod's wife, Raza's mother, sister of Amina, Kadir's maternal aunt Socialist, imprisoned Restaurant owner in Halabja (apparently also spelt Hanna), Daughter of Nadia Woman in the neighbourhood Son of Alan's neighbour in Baghdad, killed in war Teacher in Halabja, sadistic Fatima's husband, wife beater Main character, known as Big Mouth as a child, taunted as Kadir the Suitor for writing a love letter Baker Respected older man in the neighbourhood Little boy in mountain village Gossipy woman neighbour, rival of Shama Kadir's little brother, imprisoned Narin's husband Raza's father, eternal rebel Neighbourhood woman in Halabja Wife of Alan Historical figure Mullah in Raza's village Local mullah Omar's wife Spy, killed by the Peshmerga Shirin's father Fatso's mother Hairless's wife Shama's husband (or Narmin?), Kadir's sister Wife of Long Green Eye Wife of Fat Tala Butcher's nephew Woman in another neighbourhood, unfaithful Cousin of Omar Dissident soldier, involved in murder of Doran Storekeeper, owned a sweets shop Tailor, beats his apprentices (including Ahmad) Storeowner One Eye's wife, victimised by Black Nassim Clothing store owner Mahmod's son, cousin of Kadir, killed as Peshmerga Wife of Aha, divorces him Historical personality Neighbourhood boy, scapegoated and mistreated by all the others, he later becomes a Baathist gangster in Baghdad

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Salma Salman SnakeEye Salumi Sami Shama Sharmin Shera Shirin Sirwan Susan Talib Tara Tarik and Tali The Blind One The Lame One The Widow Toana Tofik Waly Zhian zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz

Shirin's mother

Friend of Mahmod from prison Acquaintance of Karim Bey Neighbourhood woman, gossip, stays in Kadir's house after being bombed out Young woman teacher Little Brother's dog Nadir's daughter, Raza's wife Kadir's older brother Neighbourhood girl in Kadir's childhood Peshmerga, helps to bring Raza's body home Youngest daughter of Omar and Nadia Famous folk singers

Domineering and gossipy old woman, killed in bomb attack Shama's son Ama's husband Fatih's father Raza's posthumously born daughter

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The novel "Black Wind from the Kurdish Hills", was published first in Swedish language. The first edition of this novel is sold out in Sweden. At May 1, 2005 was my novel "Black Wind from the Kurdish Hills" published by Janus Publishing Company in London. Black Wind From The Kurdish Hills

Paperback: 506 pages Author: Hama Dostan Paul Conlon: Translator Publisher: Janus Publishing Company (May 1, 2005) ISBN: 1857566157 Classification: Fiction/Ethnic interest

This moving story tells of the struggle for survival of a Kurdish community living in Halabja in northern Iraq. Events from the early 1960s onwards, the various stages of the Peshmerga war and the gradual rise to power of Saddam Hussein, are followed through the eyes of Kadir and his extended family. The book opens with Kadir growing up full of life, although often getting into trouble finding his way within the traditional structures of Kurdish life, together with his cousin Raza and friend Ahmad. As the years pass, we follow the fortunes of these three boys as they are forced to face the tragedies that war inflicts on those around them and are drawn into the conflict from that, by virtue of their birth, they cannot escape. Hama Dostan provides the reader with a real insight into how it feels to be caught up in a war-torn region of the world. His portrait is both intimate and harrowing, giving a powerful impression of the human cost of all such senseless violence. The Author Hama Dostan is a former resident of Halabja, Iraq. He was a teacher in agronomy at the University of Suleymania in Iraqi Kurdistan. From 1981-1986, Dostan was a teacher for Kurdish immigrants, an interpreter, a translator, and a family educator. In Sweden in 1991, he received a Swedish B.S. degree in sociology. Dostan was invited by the congressional Human Rights Caucus (CHRC) to speak... to testify before a U.S. Congressional committee. 45 Swedish newspapers have reviewed the book. What Swedish newspapers say: "Black Wind from the Kurdish Hills" is a novel about children growing up against the backdrop of war. It is the story of people whose lives are formed and changed by war. It is a story about living. Life is all that matters.-NorrbottensKuriren

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"Convincing documentation about Iraq's Kurds in their confrontation with the Iraqi regime." Gunnar Andersson, Jnkpings-Posten The characters in "Black Wind from the Kurdish Hills" are ordinary people. Hama Dostan gives them distinct personalities each has a name and a face. The novel tells us something important about the consequences of violence for unique individuals. Dostan makes it easy for neither the enemy nor people on his side. - Hudiksvalls Tidning "Halabja has now been given its own epos and in Swedish at that. The complex issue of Kurdistan's situation has been disclosed through the story's throng of individuals, families and their fate. The individual and the collective reflect each other and are woven into a shifting and fateful panorama." Maija Niitymki, Nerikes Allehanda "In countries where violence prevails, the desire for revenge becomes in time the driving force for many people. This is shown by Hama Dostan (born in 1952) in his powerful debut novel "Black Wind from the Kurdish Hills", a broad contemporary epic portrayal running from 1961 up to 1974 - a brutal insider's description of the seemingly impossible struggle of the Kurds for freedom. Hama Dostan successfully combines a sceptical attitude to the game of politics with a wary attitude to the fate of individuals. He has created a gripping and timely novel about our time, ravaged as it is by ethnic conflicts." Peter Grnberg, Bors Tidning "What is being told here is contemporary history. About nationalist struggles and national repression, about violence that deforms young people, about the Kurdish nation's answer and violent path. What makes the strongest impression, however, are the final pages where Hama Dostan shows what a stark background in reality his book has." VLT Tidning "Convincingly fresh: The author's description of the contemporary history of the Kurds possesses an authenticity that is difficult to resist. That is where Hama Dostan has found his style. In the mixture of an epical and a documental novel format." Ulf Malmqvist, Nordvstra Sknes Tidning "Literature offers a way to prevent forgetfulness, it can preserve memories and cultivate consciousness. "Black Wind from the Kurdish Hills" is a powerful attempt to achieve just that for a city, a region, a nation with this 500-page novel from the near past is something more than just an ambitious history lecture." Karl Steinick, Helsingborgs Dagblad "This is a superb manifestation of how a human being from a completely different language zone has succeeded in making Swedish his trusty instrument. It is also a document about the war's insanity where the individual can never be anything but a loser." Inger Dahlman, Norrkpings Tidningar Dostan does not make war romantic. - Norra Vsterbotten Dostan helps us understand todays world. - Falu Kuriren Of indisputable value. Svenska Dagbladet. Through reading, gain a better understanding of people. -Gteborgs Tidningen

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Dostan writes from the best point of view. - Norrbottens-Kuriren The story is a strong testament to how fear and war dig their way into the human soul. -Bibliotekstjnst The book also gives a badly-needed picture of another way of life. Vestmanlands Lns Tidning There is power and life in the description of childhood. - Gvle Dagbladet A novel that tells about many things about life. - Norra Skne Dostan has written both an emotionally touching and constructive novel. Jnkpings-Posten Dostan, in his debut novel, has succeeded in telling a very strong story. - SSRtidningen Dostan wants to make the people in the book real, even if it is a novel about war. - Alla tiders bcker This is a book that needs to be read. - Skaraborgs Allehanda

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