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We are as women crying for every single thing, struggling every single day. We have been oppressed, mistreated and even killed but we will never ever give up.
I am asking you man! That is enough. I am sick of it.
له ههشتى مارسدا!
له ههشتى مارسدا، ژنهكان دێنه سهر جاده و يادى ههشتى مارس پيرۆز دهكهن، ئهمساڵيش دروشمهكان بهرز دهكهنهوه.
له ههشتى مارسدا، ژنهكان منداڵيان دهبێ، به ژانى قورسهوه هاوار له سينهياندا دهتاسێ، ڕۆح دێته سهر كوونه لووت و دهرناچێ، ئارهقهى نێوچهوانيان ناسڕن و كۆرپهكانيان به سنگيانهوه دهنووسێنن.
له ههشتى مارسدا، كچهكان له دايك دهبن، دايكهكان له ترسى تانهوتهشهرى ماڵه خهزووران، له تاو چارهڕهشى بهختى كچه ساواكان كاتێك گهوره دهبن، به نيگهرانييهوه له ڕووخسارى كۆرپه كچهكانيان دهڕوانن و ميهرهبانانه گۆى مهمكيان دهنێن به دهميانهوه.
له ههشتى مارسدا، كچه بچووكهكان، گهڵاو گهڵ ڕێ دهكهن، ڕهنگيان پهڕيوه و ناوگيانيان خوێنى خهتهنهكردنى لێ دهچۆڕێ!
له ههشتى مارسدا، ژنهكان له نهخۆشخانه نهشتهرگهرى دهكهن، ژنهكانى هاوڕهگهزيان له وهرهم و مردن ڕزگار دهكهن، له سهر دهستى ئهواندا ژيان له دايك دهبێ و واقهى منداڵى ساوا دهبيسترێ.
له ههشتى مارسدا، ژنهكان ئهلف و بێ فێرى منداڵ دهكهن، فێرى گۆكردنى وشهيان دهكهن، دهستييان دهگرن و ترسى يهكهم ههنگاونانيان دهڕوێننهوه.
له ههشتى مارسدا، ژنهكان، پهراسوويان دهشكێ، بێ لووت و گوێ دهكرێن، به فيشهك و چهقۆ جهستهى ناسكيان كوون كوون دهكرێ. ژنهكان له نهخۆشخانه كهوتوون، وهك قهقنهس جهستهيان ڕهش بۆتهوه، تهنيا كوونى چاويان و نيگاى نيوه مردوويان دهبينرێ و نووزهيهكى لاواز له گهرووى تام دوكهڵاوييانهوه دهبيسترێ، ههر لهوێ دوا ههناسه دهدهن و منداڵهكانيان به ئهمانهت به خوشك و دراوسێ باشهكان دهسپێرن.
له ههشتى مارسدا، ژنهكان بۆ جارى سێيهم و چوارهم تۆراون، لا چاويان شين بۆتهوه، دايكهكان دايكانه ئامۆژگارييان دهكهن: ڕۆڵه قهيناكه ئهمجارهش لهبهرخاترى منداڵهكانت بڕۆرهوه.
له ههشتى مارسدا، خوشكهكان دڵسۆزانه چێشت بۆ براكان گهرم دهكهنهوه و گۆرهوييهكانيان به ئاوى گهرم و سابوون بۆ دهشۆن.
له ههشتى مارسدا، ژنه شاعيرهكان مهستانه شيعر دهنووسن، لهگهڵ پهپوولهدا قسه دهكهن و نازى گوڵهگهنمهكان ههڵدهگرن. ئهوان له سهرزهمينێكى دى دهژين.
له ههشتى مارسدا، ژنهكان بهرگرى له نيشتمان دهكهن، خوێنى گهشيان به سهر سهوزه گياى به هاردا دهڕژێ، ئهوان له ژنێتى خۆيان بووراون، ژيانى خۆشگوزهرانيان كردووه به سهدهقهى خاك و نهتهوه.
له ههشتى مارسدا، ژنهكان له ههموو شوێنێكن، له ههموو فهرمانگه و نهخۆشخانه و كارگه و قوتابخانه و ماڵ و كونج و پهنا ديوارێ، دهجوڵێن، كار دهكهن، دهگرين، شههيد دهبن، دهژين و دهمرن.
ژنهكان له ههشتى مارسدا، ميهرهبانانه خوێن و خۆشهويستى دهبهخشنهوه، بوێرانه خهبات دهكهن.
ژنهكان له ههشتى مارسدا، دنيا وێران دهكهن و سهرلهنوێ بنياتى دهنێنهوه.
ههشتى مارسى 2017
مامۆستاى بهڕێز و هاوڕێى ئازيزم
له ساڵى 2009 دا، له ڕۆژێكى وهك ئهمڕۆدا، 8 ى مارس، تهنيا چهند سهعاتێك بهرلهوهى سهفهر بكهيت، وهك عادهتى ههموو ساڵێكت، به بۆنهى ڕۆژى جيهانى ژنهوه، نامهيهكى پيرۆزباييت بۆ ناردم، ئهو ڕۆژه وهك ههموو ساڵێ، كاك شێركۆ بێكهس وهك ڕێزلێنان له ژن كردبووى به پشووى ڕهسمى له دهزگا، بۆيه ئهو ڕۆژه بهيانييهكهى نهمبينيت، له كاتێكدا دڵنيا دڵنيا بووم، سهعات چوارى عهسر له كۆڕى شيعر خوێندنهوهكهى كاك شێركۆ دهتبينم و به نامهش وهڵامى پيرۆزباييهكهم دايتهوه، بهڵام ههر تێلفۆنم بۆ كردى. وهك عادهتى خۆت به گهرمى ههواڵت پرسى، منيش وتم خهريكى چيت؟ وتت بهڕێوهم دهچم بۆ كتێبخانهى گشتى بۆ پێشانگاى كتێب (دهبێ دواههمين كتێب كه كڕى بێتت چى بووبێت؟)، بۆ نايهى؟ وتم تازه درهنگه، دوانيوهڕۆ دێم بۆ كۆڕهكه…ئيدى ئهوه دوايهمين جار بوو گوێم له دهنگت بوو، سهد مهخابن، چوارى عهسر له نهخۆشخانه تۆم به خهوتوويى بينى، له خهوێكى قووڵدا بووى، خهوێكى ههتاههتايى!
مامۆستا گيان، مردنى تۆ بۆ من، تهنيا له دهستدانى مامۆستايهكى بليمهتى لهخۆبردوو نهبوو كه ههموو ساتێ ئاماده بوو بۆ وهڵامدانهوهى ههموو پرسيارهكانم، مردنى تۆ، تهنيا لهدهستدانى سهرنووسهرى زانستى سهردهم نهبوو كه دهلاقهيهكى دهوڵهمهندى ڕۆشن بوو بۆ خوێنهرى كورد، مردنى تۆ، تهنيا له دهستدانى هاوڕێيهكى فره ئازيز نهبوو كه ههميشه دڵى لام بوو، مردنى تۆ، تهنيا له دهستدانى باوكێكى ڕۆحى دڵسۆز نهبوو كه تهنانهت نازى منداڵهكانيشمى ههڵدهگرت.
مامۆستا گيان، به مردنى تۆ، من ڕوونتر له مردن تێگهيشتم، قووڵتر ههستم به ئازارى ئهو كهسانه كرد كاتێك كهسێكى ئازيزيان له دهست دهدهن، دركم به سهختى دوورى نێوان مردن و ژيان هاوكات نزيكى نێوانيشيان كرد. ههر لهو دهمهوه و تا ئێستاش ههميشه دهڵێم خۆزگه هێڵێكى تێلفون له نێوان ئهمدنيا و ئهودنيادا ههبوايه، خۆزگه ئيمهيلێ، يان فاكسێ، يان هيچ نهبوايه تێلگرافێ ههبوايه تا جارناجارێ ههواڵێكم بپرسيتايه.
ههشتى مارسى 2017
Apple trees are waiting Spring
with more white and pink flowers.
This morning I said to her: Welcome the nice lady I missed you so much since you leave me nine months ago. Oh, woman, it is a long time I missed your golden hair and your amazing sad face in the evening. I am talking with you Miss Autumn.
The darker the night
The earlier the sun will rise
I want to inform the entire world about the current situation in my homeland of Kurdistan, though it is difficult to do so. I do not like to speak negatively of Kurdistan, yet there is much injustice taking place there.
In my homeland people live under hard circumstances; no salaries paid for work done, no electricity and a lack of clean drinking water. We are in a continuous state of fighting against ISIS.
There is no freedom to speak about the government and the parties that control life in the country. Any journalist who attempts to expose the many corruptions of the government is threatened.
The brutal murder of yet another Kurdish journalist, on August 13, 2016, rekindled anger inside of me. It is like pouring salt on a wound.
He was a young man by the name of Widad Hussein. He was killed due to information that he had written about the Kurdish authorities. Though the information was concise, the authorities apparently deemed it worthy of death.
Maybe it is not a good time for Kurdish journalists to say what should be said.
I wonder when times will be good for working and living a normal and free life as a simple human and as a journalist in Kurdistan.
I see my mother wearing a long white dress with an old black jacket, sitting with a group of women from Arbat refugee camp in Kurdistan. All of them are crying, my mother is raising her hands toward the sky; she has no idea what has happened to me. “Mom, mom why you are doing that?” Mom asks something from God, but because of all the women’s sobbing, I cannot understand what she is saying. I know all the other women, but I am surprised that they’ve become much older in about two years and misery and deep sorrow can be seen on all their faces.
A batch of children are sitting in front of the women. Some of them are confused, others are crying without knowing what is happening, but none of them were playing. “I miss my doll!” Those little girls are lucky because when the ISIS attack on Sinjar started they were not old enough to endure the same fate as us; our sins were to be female, young and beautiful. According to ISIS’s belief, our body and blood are allowable.
We had been tortured by ISIS. They hit us with sticks, whips, electric shocks and, without food and water, we had been imprisoned inside the bathrooms. And with different prices, in different places, to different people they sold us. Light skinned girls with blue eyes sold above 500 dollars, the others sold for from 30 dollars to 400 dollars with the customers all testing all our bodies, even the Intimate parts! Ah, mom thanks to God that you do not see us in this disaster. What am I talking about? They raped little girls and even those girls delivered their babies. I do not like to say anymore, I know you cannot bear all this.
Mom, mom, why you do not answer me? I feel fine now, no pain. Neither the pain of my broken tooth which was broken by the ISIS who were guarding us nor the pain in my leg which was twisted when I was trying to escape and jumping over the wall. And my hands, why they are so nice white and clean? I am surprised because they became ash, and my legs were like two burned twigs. Ah, mom, I wish you knew that I am fine and I wish you could see me from somewhere to know how I am gorgeous and wonderful.
But still, I am afraid. Fire, the iron cage, my friend’s smell of burnt meat and burnt hairs, is that all a dream? Or is what I feel now that I am fine a dream? I am worried, mom. I am afraid of when I wake up, and seeing myself with my friends again inside the iron cage and seeing my hand’s skin burnt on the bars (the bars of the iron cage). Ah, what is a terrible pain when your body is burning, and you see your friends who were suffering before from the pains of broken teeth and broken legs and broken heads, hungry and thirsty, and now are suffering from being burnt alive!
I remember when an ISIS came and said in Arabic: “Before maghrib prayers and breaking fasting, we will burn you all alive. This is a good preparation for your second life in the hell, though still, you have time to repent. God is merciful and forgives his slaves”. I did not respond even then because we have no issue with God.
We, all 19 girls, we stared at other, our tongues were too dry to say even one word but with our eye gaze and our hearts we said to each other: “If we die one day sooner we will feel peace more quickly”. We felt more courage than fear of burning and death. We inherited the soul of the resistance from Melek Taus. My God you are the witness that when you instructed all angels to bow to Adam, all the angels obeyed except Melek Taus. He said: “How can I bow to another being? I cannot bow to anyone except you and your merciful face”. My God, you are the Creator, you are all-knowing, and you are the witness, you created Melek Taus from your light, he was not evil and we do not worship evil. This is 73rd genocide for the extermination of Yazidis. Grandpa Adam and Melek Taus, please say something.
When one of the ISIS men came holding a flame, in our customary way of prayer we kissed the ground three times. I said in my heart: “Bless the resistant soul who is standing in front of her God”, “God let me live doesn’t matter it is short or long”. I could hardly stand up. About one year ago every time when I ended my prays I said: “Oh my God, do anything to give me a chance to marry my lovely one who is a Muslim guy, and however it turns out don’t make my fate similar to Dua’s fate(*). But now I change my supplication: My God, please avenge us!
When I turned my head I saw one of my friends who was standing with fire all over her body, she was like a Pomegranate tree with bunches of a fire flower. We stared each other; this scene of the fire tree was the last thing I could see because my eyes and my lashes were all burned. We all had been burned. We became ash.
When the dying day of a phoenix birds is approaching, they will know that they are dying, while they sing the fire will come from their beaks, they will sing with sadness and sorrow over and over and finally they will burn and become ashes, but another phoenix bird will come from the ashes and fly up towards the sky.
We were the same as Phoenix birds. We were 19 Phoenixes, we made a deal to sing together, and to say to ISIS: “No, we are no longer your slaves, we do not do sex with you”. We sang our dying song, we sang and fire came from our soft throats. 19 Phoenix birds burned and 19 Phoenix birds were born and flew toward the sky.
Mom, my mom, promise that we will come back to Lalish(**). One day we will come back and we will pray at dawn toward the sun. We will come back with the seven colors of light to Lalish but our light will spread over the face of the earth. A new earth with new flowers, birds, sky and sea will be created, another earth whose light is strong enough to blind the ISIS monster and makes them deaf or unable to speak until they kill themselves.
Melek Taus, you are God’s chosen on the earth, I do not want anything more than this: my mom does not hear me, so please tell her, “Maria is very well, and she just misses you a lot.”
It is believed that she was killed on April 7, 2007, but the incident did not come to light until a video of the stoning, apparently recorded on a mobile phone, appeared on the Internet.
(**) Lalish is a small mountain valley village situated in the Shekhan District of Dohuk Province in northern Iraq. It is the only and main temple of Yezidis in the world. The temple belongs to ancient times wherein many archaeologists and historians agree upon the fact that the temple was a part of Sumerian and other ancient Mesopotamian civilizations. Later it became the location of the tomb of Sheikh Adi ibn Musafir, who is a central figure of the Yazidi faith.