Humans of Kurdistan
The "Humans Of Kurdistan" project aims to present the cultural diversity of the country. A look at the faces but also the stories that lie behind each of them.

March 2, 2023

When I returned to Hawraman from Tehran, I pursued change in handicrafts art. At first, they stood against me and my first artworks, which I put on display in an exhibition in the village. They said I’m worshiping statues and propagating worshiping them with the woodwork I’m doing. Back then, they were building a dam and wrecking all the land, so I started collecting the trees with their roots and working on them. Gradually, my work became more acceptable among the people, and they became keen on it. Nowadays, when they see a tree, they send it to me and say use it for your artwork. ...

March 6, 2023

“It's been half a century since I’ve worked as a textile repairer in Khanaqin; I wanted to quit a couple of times, but my love for my customers made me continue. Some families bring their mattresses, quilts, and pillows to repair or buy new ones from me. They’re used to these authentic materials, but unfortunately, people are slowly favoring exported goods. As long as those are available, people don’t want to wait three to four days for handmade ones. Our work is mentally and physically tiring; your brain is always tired because you focus on each stitch you sew. And it messes up the eye for concentrating on the needle for too long. I feel like my eyes are too tired, but this is life. I have lived it this way and will continue to do so.” ...

March 12, 2023

“They call me Osman Keminaiy or Osman Hawrami; I was born in 1936 in Kemina village. My whole family, tribe, and clan have a pleasant voice and sing. I’m from the Lihon faction of Hawraman, but I’m known for my singing style and Hawrami songs along with Hawrami Siachaman. I’ve always been interested in singing, but I got into fame when in 1964, my song was aired on Kermanshah Radio. In 1956, recording became available in our area, and they were recording songs. I can’t tell how many songs I have recorded because no one collected them for me, and I’m illiterate. If I was singing seven hours a day, imagine how many songs that would be. However, in 1992 I was poisoned, which sadly silenced my voice forever.” ...

March 26, 2023

“I have been working in this coffee shop since childhood. I inherited it from my father. He built the shop around 70 years ago out of mud and wood. This coffee shop has become an essential part of the life of Amuda families, thinkers, doctors, and farmers, they gather here, and the place is now a historical one. I will not modernize or renovate the coffee shop because it has my father’s scent and is part of history; moreover, this is how the customers enjoy it. I can’t separate from the coffee shop because it has become part of me and my identity. I will leave it for my children after my death.” ...

March 30, 2023

“I am an agricultural worker. I go to Eden every year when agriculture starts. I work for a daily wage. Working conditions are challenging. I worked for years in these difficult times and bought a house for myself. The house was everything I had. It suffered significant damage in the earthquake. It will ruin my situation because it is a big loss. We have nowhere to go now. My brother, our child, and I stayed outside. We asked the official institutions for tents, but they refused. We stayed outside for three days. Then I went to the market, bought materials, and made the tent. There are 12 of us remaining here now. It’s very cold in the evenings; we turn on the oil heater. We lost not only our home but also our memories. We have nothing now.” ...

April 4, 2023

“Ten years ago, my husband married a second wife and left me. My son and I both soon developed cancer, but my son did not make it. In order not to beg others, I’ve been making Mekhak poked apples for the last seven years and selling them in Sanandaj’s Niqbal market. A lot of people in Sanandaj know me and buy my handmade stuff and take it to Europe. I struggle a lot during winter colds and summers because of the heat, but I’m happy to see many other women who, like me, have started working and selling goods.” ...

April 6, 2023

““I was a child when my grandfather passed away in this house. A year later, two of my uncles lost their lives in a car accident, and my father died at their funeral because of a stroke. Our three acres of wheat burned in a fire, and suddenly one year of labor became ashes. Our house caught fire on a hot summer day because of an electrical short; my sister burned in the fire and did not make it. Now, my grandmother does not allow us to renovate the house; she thinks it is cursed. She said, ‘I knew it from the beginning, this house will doom us all, but no one listened to me, and look what’s happened to us.’ She also said, ‘I’ll never allow anyone to live in this house.’ What my grandmother ignores is that if the house is a curse for them, for me, it’s a place of so many memories. I spent all of my childhood here. I could never dislike it. Even now, I run away sometimes and stay in it for some time.” ...

April 10, 2023

“Once we reached Washokani Camp in Al-Hasakeh, I decided not to depend on anyone but myself and find my own job. Now, we sell food and kebab with my son and daughter. At first, people were making fun of me, but once they saw it was successful, and I could make my living off it, other women in the camp started working too. I ask all women to work and make their own living.” ...

April 12, 2023

“Everything is changing in the world. This change also changes people's lives. One reason for this change is the development of technology. The development of technology makes people's lives a little easier. But this change, like many things in the village, happens late. This is not really a problem. The main problem is not the arrival of technology but the late arrival of some basic needs of human life. One of those needs is water. There has been a water problem in our village for 50 years. There still needs to be a way to lay pipes and bring water to the houses. We still carry our drinking water on donkeys and bring it home. For us, water is more important than technology. But like everything, water comes late.” ...

April 18, 2023

“Kirkuk, for me, is the joy of all cities combined. While serving in the military in the south of the country, I counted the days until I returned to my city. My friends were taking off days because of illnesses and funerals in the family. However, mine was only to return sooner to Kirkuk. Some even jokingly said, "You've made Kirkuk sound like Paris to us." The diverse nationalities in this city have fostered a culture of coexistence among its people. I have childhood Turkmen and Arab friends, just like my Kurdish friends; we share a bond of love and trust despite our different backgrounds.” ...

April 26, 2023

“In the early 2000s, my brother and I established a shop on Erbil-Bardarash Street, which was an economic hub connecting Kurdistan Region, Turkey, and Iran. Travelers from different countries frequently traversed this road, and I developed a hobby of collecting currency from these various places and displaying them in my front window. Over time, I accumulated currencies from many countries, including some that are no longer in circulation. The oldest currency I possess dates back to World War I. Although people have offered to buy them from me at a high price, I refuse to sell them because they hold sentimental value for me. Interestingly, I can now recognize currencies from different countries, and I have noticed that some have high-quality paper, their colors do not fade, and they are incredibly durable.” ...

May 3, 2023

“Nature is the cure for everything. Leaving the land is like leaving your humanity. I am over 70 years old. Especially young people like to live in cities. But we old people don't leave our village and land even for a day. We were born here; we grew up here. All our memories are here. It is not easy to let go of all memories. I can't live in an apartment. My children live in the city, and I live in the village. Sometimes when I go to town, you think I'm suffocating. I'm out of breath. Immediately, I return to my village, back to my stone house. I just breathe here, and I feel like I live here. In my opinion, urban life is a silent death.” ...