Camping in Kurdistan: A Road Trip and some Perspectives, Iraqi-Kurdistan, July 9th, 2011

"Is easy to see the remarkable beauty of this country and forget all the atrocities that are still happening, I can get lost in the immensity of its mountains in the north, the Mesopotamian Marshes in the south, swim on its rivers; Furat and Dicle and enjoy the simplicity of its people....but then I hear its name: Iraq.... I recall I'm on this journey deep into the strugle.....still the magic prevails-in my heart and I smile" Johanna

In the beginning of July, I went on a road trip with two of my Iraqi friends. It was something we had been planning, but I had been postponing it because my injured foot. We started our adventure in Erbil, driving north into Duhok. We were going to camp somewhere, past the ancient city of Amedi, which sits beautifully on a hill, one hour past Duhok. I was really excited about the whole camping idea.

Our first challenge was in one of the literally thousand checkpoints that are all over the place in Kurdistan. I am not sure which; surely it was after we left Erbil. We showed our ID’s, and my two friends went out of the car. The Kurdish soldier asked to open the trunk, which my friend did, and all of a sudden, I saw the soldier checking my bag and taking out some of my medicines. Right, so maybe a Kurdish an Arab guy with an American girl could be suspicious. For sure we could be carrying some kind of bomb to disturb free and peaceful Kurdistan! After the guy slowly and meticulously looked through my medications -anti-inflammatory and thyroid medication- he was convinced that there was nothing wrong in our trunk.

He proceeded to ask me-in Arabic- where I worked. I said I worked in a human rights organization. Then he asked my Arab friend, who said he was my bodyguard!!!! But of course, his papers said otherwise. Luckily, the soldier did not inquire about that contradiction. They asked my Kurdish friend to come with them. I was surprised because I expected they would take my other friend, who was from Baghdad. After a while, when he came back, he said that they were looking for another guy with his name. Fortunately, everything was solved without major inconveniences.

We continued our road trip. Sunflower fields were covering both sides of the road. I asked my friend to stop to take some pictures. On an improvised tent, there were three young guys who were taking care of the fields. We were out for about 10-15 minutes, but it was hot as hell! When we were leaving, one of the guys called us back and gave us like 8 melons, which were also from the same field. That was nice of them, but we had enough melons for dinner and breakfast.

We made it into Duhok around noon, prayer time, but also lunch time. It was the first time that my Arab friend visited Duhok, despite he had been in Kurdistan for 6 years, always working and trying to survive. We stopped at a restaurant, and I was happy to get off the car and be in a cooler place. We went upstairs into the family section which obviously was full of families. As we ordered, in the midst of lunchtime chaos, I noticed a conversation between a waiter and a man; the man seemed to be asking for a prayer rug, something available everywhere, from restaurants to shops, anywhere there are people. The man got his rug and went to a corner to pray. It is one of those scenes that does not cease to amaze me, reminding me that Islam permeates all aspects of daily life. Is something very normal and I am used to it now, but is one of those things that could impress one who is not familiar with this culture.

We drove through a small dam, just on top of the city. It was a small, man-made dam, to collect water. It was in the middle of a beautiful landscape, and to me, it fitted perfectly as if meant to be there. We continued our journey, passing Amedi and into another city called Deralok. There were several Assyrian villages and a couple of churches on the way. My two friends that just met today, talked about politics, religion and about life in Iraq. I was sitting in the back, listening and smiling. These were two people that generally would not come together spontaneously. Arabs and Kurds are not naturally attracted to each other, due to historical reasons, mainly because of the genocide of the Kurds orchestrated by Saddam. Only when people think beyond history and realize that what happened was a result of people in power doing things that did not necessarily represent the will of all, only then they can start reaching to each other.

I was glad that they were talking and making jokes; I knew both of them had been through a lot. The Kurds had the genocide and the uprising of 1991 that made millions refugees flee to Iran and three wars, plus sanctions that had destroyed a country and its people: the Iran-Iraq war, the Gulf war and lately in 2003 which made millions of Arabs flee to the north. The [American] war in the south had brought many Arabs into Kurdistan, which is autonomous, but yet, still part of Iraq. Many Arabs had come to escape violence and many more in search of employment given that war destroyed their source of income. The reality is that there is a lot of discrimination towards Arabs and because they come not speaking Kurdish, they can only get odd jobs which offer no stability. These jobs pay very little despite the long working shifts and oftentimes have no days off [=exploitation??].

We passed another checkpoint where a soldier again asked for our ID’s. When he came to check mine, he asked me where I am from, and he was smiling and exclaiming that my name is Kurdish. My name also exists in Kurdish but it is spelled differently: Jwana≠ Johanna. He thought I am originally Kurdish. People often say that I have Kurdish features, and many times people talk to me in Kurdish only to realize that I have no clue of what they are saying. He returned our ID’s and exclaimed: “Welcome Mister Johanna!”

After a long day on the car, looking for the perfect spot for the camping, we finally arrived to a beautiful and quiet place by the river. It almost felt like we arrived to the end of the world, away from people, from the government, just nature and beauty in front of us. It almost felt like being in another planet. We mounted our tent, looked for some wood for fire, and grilled some chicken Iraqi-style-tomato juice and salt.

We sat and enjoyed the peace and quiet of the night, listening to the soothing sound of the river and overlooking the moon sometimes wanting to hide from us behind the clouds. Enjoying this little moment but knowing that tomorrow we would wake up to the same Iraq we just escaped a couple of hours ago!

Beautiful sunflower fields on our way to Duhok, Iraqi Kurdistan

Let's do it the Kurdish way, PLEASE!--Erbil, Iraq, 012611

I will introduce you to the Kurdish way of doing things: 


Here in Kurdistan, bureaucracy reigns. In order to do anything you need three things: money, time and a lot of patience. Things are not organized let alone there are any procedures, and if there are, they are subject to change without any previous notice. If you need anything done, you need to pay for it. It [the government] works as a private company, like in most parts of the Middle East. Either you have "wasta" -know someone-- or you have to pay, before you get white hair waiting for things at any governmental office. I learned the words for up and down [in reference to the location of the different offices I was referred to], "sere and khware" respectively. I guess the government is the biggest source of employment, so they have created so many positions to deal with the same thing, and to make it more difficult for people. They do this so people don't have time to think about important things, but just worry about basic things like food, electricity, bureaucracy, etc.



So, with that background, now I'll tell you how I tried to renew my visa, after being here in Kurdistan little more than a month. First, when we got to the building, the parking lot was full, so we had to park on the "street". But there was no such thing as a street since all was just covered by mud. We parked and attempted to walk on the mud. I felt as if my feet where being swallowed by the mud, they felt heavier and heavier....I couldn't stop thinking, Oh My God, if I fall, (which is likely to happen to me) how am I going to get out of this mess. I think I got more than a kilo of mud on my white shoes...



Thank God, this is the capital city, imagine elsewhere. Construction and development everywhere, but the auxiliary infrastructure to support that development is unexistent. How does the Kurdistan Regional Government expects to expand and open to the world, but still keeps this archaic methods that date from the Ottoman times? We went to a small office and got the petition for the visa extension, then to the second office, the Passport Control office number 3, where the guy just look at your paper and sends you to the next office, then to number 11 and then to number 15, or whatever. I counted 6 different office, the last one being the "Blood Test Department". I did the blood sample and I have to return on Sunday, to finish the process. So I guess that was the easy part.



I have my solution to the mud issue for next time, I will get a couple of plastic bags and wrap my shoes around them. This is the latin way, if you cannot deal with them, join them. So far, ALL my shoes (3 pairs in total) are full of mud, but what can I do, if I can't fly...Yet. Maybe Barzani has to come here and see how things around here!

Chronicles of a Woman’s Friday in Iraq--Erbil, Iraq 011411

Yesterday was Friday, and the weekend here in Iraq. I decided to visit around the ancient citadel of Erbil. It is like 15-20 minutes from Ankawa. I wanted to walk a little bit because the weather was nice. A lot of cars when passing by me were honking. So far, I was feeling safe but I started to worry when I noticed that a pick-up slowed down and stopped next to me. While walking, I was taking pictures and I took a picture next to a house and a generator. The guy started to ask, in Arabic, something related to the picture and the house. I couldn’t understand all that he said, but he was not happy that I took that picture.

There is a lot of private security around, and apparently he was one of them. I asked what was the problem with taking a picture. I guess he thought I was a terrorist, taking pictures to later put a bomb! So I just kept walking and ignore him. Later, I noticed some other cars slowing down, and sometimes stopping ahead of me. I just tried to cross and walk on the other side of the street. I couldn’t believe that a woman couldn’t walk on a main street without being harassed. So, I thought about not pursuing my visit to the citadel.

I called my Iraqi friend and told him about my frustration. Why couldn’t I walk freely, what’s wrong with men here?. He advised me to ignore the cars and to take it easy. He said is better when women walk together. It felt really strange for me, coming from Palestine, Cairo and Turkey, and traveling all the time alone. What was different about Iraq? I have been here in the Middle East for more than 6 months and this never happened before. I told him I just wanted to enjoy myself and walk but that I could not even do that, without being harassed, plus there was nothing to do around here. He said that it was safe, to just try to walk and see what I could find, to try to enjoy the culture, see the differences between the culture and people here and my own culture;to explore around. I complained about how can I enjoy and explore if I cannot even feel free to walk, plus I didn’t know my way around. I complained that this was not what I came for and I felt I was wasting my time.

He asked me: “What did you come for, what were you expecting?”.

I replied: “I came to see the real Iraq”

But this was part of the real Iraq; there is not only poor people. This was also an Iraqi reality, and now I was experiencing it. He said, this is the reality, there is nothing to do. Young people struggle with this.

Shops with traditional Kurdish images


Ankawa is not a poor neighborhood, the houses here are very big and beautiful, but there is something else missing. There are no cinemas or clubs, or places for young people to gather and exchange ideas. Young people here is not motivated [to stay here], they often look to America as an escape to this traditional society, where there is no freedom. I was experiencing another face of the Iraqi society. Iraqi youth is connected to the rest of the world through technology, some of them speak perfect English, and there are new universities being established to educate the next generation of Iraqi leaders. But if they don’t find any freedom, they are feeling trapped and their only hope is to move out of Iraq. How do we expect to build a strong society?

Barzani, the Kurdistan Region President and Jesus, next to each other


So, after my conversation, I hesitated to go to Erbil, but in the end I turned my frustration into courage. My friend was right, I had to embrace the differences, try to understand them for what they were, and get the best of this experience, and the best was not to stay afraid and do anything, so I crossed the street when I saw a taxi that was leaving some women on the other side. So now, the challenge was, to get to Erbil city center. Of course the taxi driver asked how old I was and if I was married, which I tried to avoid answering pretending I didn’t understand him. I managed to accomplish the first part of the mission.






Once in the city center, I saw the impressive Citadel, dominating majestically the panorama. Now, the mission was to survive as one of the few women there. I mean, there were a couple of women, accompanied by their husband and children, but alone, there was not a single one, well just me. I found three young women and asked them to take some pictures, and they told me how to get to the top of the citadel.



It has been claimed that the site is the oldest continuously inhabited town in the world. The earliest evidence for occupation of the citadel mound dates to the 5th millennium BC, and possibly earlier. which lies 30 meters above the ground and is 7000 years old. On the bottom entrance there was an old man with a shop, I sat with him and he offered me a piece of his chocolate bar. I thought, oh, thank God that not all men are stupid. He said that he had 4 boys and 4 girls, and invited me to his house and said he will take me around in the car to visit many places. I went up to the citadel and walked around the once ancient city that is now in the UNESCO list.

Views of the mountains from the citadel


When I came down, I asked the man on the shop if there was a bathroom. He pointed to the other side of the street, where there was a mosque and lot of people. I guess because it was Friday and they were praying. It took me a while to realize I was the only woman walking on the packed sidewalk. At one point, I stopped and looked around and all eyes were on me. It felt a little bit intimidating but I took a deep breath and kept walking, telling myself, I had the same right that these men, to be there, and walk freely. I wondered around the stores and even bought a lipgloss by almost sign language.

Men in the market and I was just sitting and observing


Kurdish flag


I went back to where I started. It was a square, with water fountains, and benches, and little coffee shops. I wanted to have a coffee, but again was intimidated by the all men atmosphere. What the hell, I was already there and they were already looking at me, so I stopped in a small shop and asked the boy for Nescafe—a ready mix coffee-creamer-sugar—and sat among the all men crowd. A man came and asked me if I knew Kurdish and I said “ Kurdi nazanem” (I don’t know Kurdish) and he left. They were playing Shemame, a Kurdish song from Turkey that I know, but I reminded myself that I cannot dance in public, so I was just singing and laughing to myself.

Teaching myself Kurdish-sitting with my coffee



After I finished the coffee, I came back home, of course after having another interview with the taxi driver, I told him I had a Kurdish boyfriend and even with that he offered his services if I needed to go anywhere. I can’t believe that women here have to put up with all these challenges; on a daily basis. What is wrong with men here? But I am satisfied that at least I managed to challenge the stereotypes by daring to sit around all the men in the square. I was not scared, I was looking at them too. I was dying to know what they were thinking. I was smiling timidly and then looking back at my Kurdish notes. I guess they were as curious as me. I was wondering if any of them was going to say something to me and I guess they were curious as to why I was there by myself.

The Nescafe is a very sweet mix of mostly sugar, with a coffee flavor which is spread all over the Middle East


Mission accomplished, and proud I survived Friday day out in the city! Up for next Friday?

We Give Life and Love, and We Get Violence and Inequality-- Khabat, Iraqi Kurdistan--010511

“Women contributes tenderness, love, conservation of life, values, patience,.....Thank God for making me a woman, but how hard is to be so here in Iraq” Johanna L. Rivera/ Jose L. Redondo

We returned back to Khabat, for our second day in the survey. Khabat is just 30 minutes from Erbil, well, with our driver, surely less. Erbil is the capital of the Autonomous Iraqi Kurdistan Region. On one hand; the poor infrastructure of Khabat and on the other, massive development and investment being poured into Erbil, construction of villas, malls, cinemas and billboards that read “Democracy cannot be achieved without justice”. There is construction and dust EVERYWHERE, whereas in Khabat, there is no sewage system. You can see the sewage water running on many streets as the kids run and play around.



We met Kak Faisal[Kak is a polite way to address a person here in Kurdistan] and the took us to our first home. As we explained the survey and the benefits from participating on it to the woman, she was very receptive. She started answering to our questions and then 2 men one of them her brother, entered the room. My colleague explained to him the purpose of our visit and how we were seeking to identify women to participate in the survey and eventually in the courses. He was opposed to her sister participating in any kind of course let alone working outside the house. He said that “Our tradition does not allow women to work outside the house”, besides he pointed out that his sister was old (she was in her forties) and she would not be able to learn anything in such a short time (a 3 month-course). I didn’t notice when exactly the woman left the room, but we could not complete our survey and left the house politely thanking the brother (FOR NOTHING!!!)



The houses we visited seemed to be constructed recently. You could tell because most of them were on bare concrete blocks, no decoration. The infrastructure around this village is very scarce. You can see the sewage running on channels on the street, there is a lot of garbage around. Kids playing and running on the streets, along the sewage.





We went to a second house, where we interviewed a woman, she was 23. She was married at the age of 13 and divorced at age 19. Her children were not with her, as she doesn’t have any means of supporting herself or providing for them. This situation (the early marriage), which could seem unacceptable for us, is a common practice in this traditional society. Marrying at this early age, leaves women no choice but to leave school, often without reading and writing skills, to attend her wife’s duties and leaving her depending only on her husband. When he leaves or dies, she is left with her children and no source of income, sending her and her children into deep poverty.


Some Statistics:
The estimated number of widows and divorcees reached 2 million out of a total population of 30 million. Many of these widows’ loss stem from wars of the past decades, including the Iran-Iraq War, the First Gulf War, and the American invasion with its resulting sectarian violence. The Iraqi government has not been providing sufficient financial assistance to this vulnerable group and women are often in need of humanitarian aid. On a recent study by Oxfam, 76% of widows said they did not receive a pension from the government. 40% of women with children reported that their sons and daughters were not attending school. Another study by the World Food Program found that 12.4% of households in Erbil were headed by women.



Largely widowed and almost entirely all without any employment, the female-headed households live in constant threat of eviction with few if any alternatives, making them especially vulnerable to exploitation and violence as they search for other means to find food and shelter. IOM research in 2008 identified victims of trafficking in northern and central Iraq with profiles of the victims revealing that more than half of female victims were orphans or from single parent families. Another IOM survey of 1,355 female-headed displaced families who have returned to their places of origin found that 74 percent are struggling to secure adequate nutrition for their families.

Kitchen of one of the families we visited for the survey in Khabat. Photo by Johanna L. Rivera

In addition to this, one in five women (21%) in Iraq aged 15-49 has suffered physical violence at the hands of the husband. 14% of women who suffered physical violence were pregnant at the time. 33% have suffered emotional violence, and 83% have been subjected to controlling behavior by the husbands.



Iraqi women and girls are not fully aware of their rights. 59% of women aged 15-49 believe that it is acceptable for a man to beat his wife under certain circumstances. This figure is higher in rural areas (70%) and among women with no formal education (71%). Women aged between 15 and 24 are as likely to tolerate abuse as older generations.



In a recent survey by Oxfam titled In He Own Words, Iraqi women talk about their greatest concerns and challenges, 1,700 women were interviewed and talked about their stories. Here I leave you with one of the stories that really made me take a deep breath:

“My son Amer graduated with a degree in mechanical engineering and was planning to get married…. On 5 November 2007, three days before his wedding, he and my daughter Basimah, along with a friend, went out to buy the wedding dress and other wedding accessories in the Al Karradah neighbourhood market in Baghdad. Two hours later, someone called us from Basimah’s mobile phone to tell us that they had been admitted to the hospital as a result of an explosion…. When I arrived, I started searching among the injured patients, running from one ward to another going crazy. Then they took me to the mortuary and there I found them. I wept silently for such a long time and so all the other women around me began weeping too....

I wished I were dead when I saw their bodies in the morgue piled on top of each other. I can't forget the scene of them even for one moment.... I wish I could see them again. They were the fruit of my life and the only hope I had in this world. …. We have received no pension money to live on…there are so many cases of widows and others [who have lost loved ones and breadwinners] who are also not receiving anything from the government, no compensation or pension."

-- Emman’s elderly husband is ill with cancer and can no longer work. Emman said that she and her husband always struggled economically, but had enough to ensure their children attended university so they could improve the family’s situation. Her daughter Basimah had a good job as a computer programmer but had resigned due to rampant insecurity shortly before she was killed.

So, I leave you ---------with something to think about as I keep on my journey deep into the Iraqi women’s struggle.


All of us, men and women, soldiers and peacekeepers, citizens and leaders—have a responsibility to help end violence against women, UN Secretary General, Ban Ki Moon

Christmas is where your heart is...--122410, Ankawa, Iraq

Yesterday was Christmas Eve here in Iraq, (and in every other part of the world). A very different Christmas: a very hard, very special but a very meaningful one.... Christmas is a super special time for me, but this one comes at a different time on my life. I have been traveling for the past six months, and today, Christmas has another meaning, actually, many different meanings: it means to live with a PURPOSE, to know I am moving in this journey, but with each movement, I leave behind, smiles, tears, laughter, sorrow and happiness and the satisfaction of illuminating the lives of all those that I find on my way. It means to be out of my comfort zone, even when it means tears and sadness. The sadness that no one wants to feel, but that many people in Iraq experience, by being displaced, unemployed, widow, or orphan....... It means to INSPIRE, SUPPORT and to BRING LAUGHTER or to give ADVICE, to LISTEN or even just to SMILE. And not only I give, but I also receive many lessons. Lessons of humbleness, courage, perseverance, and strength from people that struggle everyday for living and sometimes for survival.

I've been feeling really lonely and sad and asking myself, after this, what, what is it that I am looking for by being here. I still have no answer. Many tears of loneliness, of helplessness, but I guess is the price to be paid to follow my heart, and I hope with each of those tears I grow stronger. Many thoughts and feelings, sometimes I feel that I want to stay here, make my life here.....in this area of the world, but sometimes when I see the inequality, the injustice, the corruption, my own helplessness, I just want to run away. But there is a sense of responsibility on me, something that says, I am here to be the eyes and the ears of people that will never get to see what really this part of the world is. Sometimes I just want to sit and cry, and sometimes I want to just be present. Sometimes I care, sometimes I don't.......

The Entrance of St. Joseph's Church

Yesterday was Christmas Eve in Erbil, the capital of Iraqi Kurdistan. A mix of development and modernity trapped in a very traditional society. A society that is evolving but that still displays very conservative norms. Where woman is still positioned in very traditional roles and with low representation in society and politics. Today, I went to the beauty salon to try to be pretty on Christmas and to take away my sadness, caused by being away from home. From there we had dinner and I started to prepare to go to church here in Ankawa, a Christian suburb next to Erbil the place I now live and work.

St. Josephs Cathedral is the oldest church in town. The church was full and we had to struggle to get inside. I've never been in such a full mass. People were pushing to get in, but after some time we managed to stay at the back of the church. There was a lot of noise, and people still wanted to get in, but there was really no place. People on the back where chatting and making a lot of noise, people were in and out of the church and I was very upset that the solemnity of the night was not respected, in the end this is "the most ancient Christian community in the world". We were standing for more than 1 1/2 hours as the priest sang the mass in ancient Assyrian. I couldn't even guess that part of the mass we were in,  except the alleluia. The homily and other parts of the mass were in Arabic. They gave the sign of peace to each other and then the priest came to the back giving the Holy Communion. There were like two songs I knew that are also sang in PR., the Loria In Excelsis Deo and the Adestes Fideles, so I was happy following the mass in the best way I like: singing.

Christmas Chaldean mass...

When we went out of mass, I noticed the armed security checking on everyone. When I was inside the packed church, I thought about the recent attacks on the Christians here and I reminded myself I was in Iraq. As a Christian I never felt threatened before, but the armed security guards reminded me of those 52 people murdered while attending mass, and how vulnerable Christian are here. The main entrance of the Ankawa was also closed. I guess also to prevent unknown people from entering and causing any trouble.

A beautiful Tree outside the Church

After mass we went to a festival here in town, there was Christmas music including the traditional jingle bells (which has become my Christmas anthem now), Santa Claus also visited the festival with some friends. After the live music was finished they played Kurdish music, giving Christmas the local touch. All the people started to gather in lines and circles to dance. I also joined in the dancing with some of my friends, both Kurd and Assyrian, reminding me that dancing and music bring people together.

At the Christmas festival, on Christmas Eve, with my Kurdish host brothers

Mr. and Mrs. Smith

Christmas had a special touch after all, its own Iraqi flavor, and I had the opportunity to discover a different way to celebrate, and to give a meaning other than party and shopping. I didn't give any presents or receive any material things, but I gained a lot and strengthened my spirit, reminding myself that saying that home is where your heart is, and so is Christmas, and my heart is now here in Iraq!

Me and Pooh

A balloon next to the festival area

Merry Christmas.....in Assyrian (Arameic)