From my eyes
From the eyes of one Kurdish painter I want to reflect the miseries, wish and hope for more than 40 millions soul. Kurdistan is a sad land, which starts from southeast Turkey to northeast Syria and then from northern Iraq to ends up in west north Iran. In the most of the Kurdish area, which is called Kurdistan, it is forbidden for us to speak our language or practice the basic human rights.
Art is the colorful sparrow, which hates the cage and borders wants to dance on the blue background of the sky.
Art is the stripe of the sunlight that can inter the prisoner room without permission or stamped paper it comes from the top window every day and warm up the tried body of the tortured man.
I remember when I was a kid my father passed away in the snowy day, he left his shoes paints which were red, brown, and black colors they attracted me alot and I draw my 1st image with them, it was two mountain with a military plane in the sky. I grew up as most of the Kurdish kids in fear and none certainty.
I want to tell you the story of two flowers in Kurdistan then you can understand easier.
It is about a little flower of Narcissus, which is our symbolic flower, one day when I was walking beside the clear river in the spring a small flower of Narcissus, was sweating and terrified. She told me of her dream, when she wakeup in a nightmare dream she found herself a lone in the middle of desert. No green were around no other flowers beside her, no rain no river, she was looking at the deep of the warm sky dreaming of a drop of water to come and wet up her lips, but it never came!
Another flower in Halabja (the city which was bombed with chemical bomb in spring of 1988 and more than 5000 people dies in a day)
She said that it was spring we could get out from the dark humid soil of winter, we were dreaming of getting out from the earth and kiss the blond hair of the sunlight. We came out still our eyes haven’t been opened well, we couldn’t see the green because that spring was assassinated and I heard from a little blind kid that the last view that he has seen before his eyes loose bright was that spring turned to be Autumn in a minute, birds fallen down from the sky, leafs from the trees, river got poisoned like snake, mother with kids died in each others embrace, street, cars, houses and roads were full of damaged face dead people, so we never get out again from the soil, we felt the drop of soul tears and we were imprisoned for one more year under ground, but as far as Spring never dies we came out again.
Dear friends that was little view from our life. Many of our people have been taken by force to the middle of the dissert in Iraq and they buried a live there, and more than 180,000 people including kids and elderly people and women are missing since 1988 no one knows their fates. That is our life, it is not movie neither story, but a SIMPLE TRUTH.
Simko Ahmad 1998 , Tokyo
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