Even the spelling of this spring festival is touchy. The Kurds spell it with a “w,” the Turks with a “v.” One writer pointed out that there’s no “v” sound in Kurdish, and that every time Western news services write “Nevroz,” it’s an implicit victory for the Turkish authorities.
The Kurds are not the only ethnic group in the Mideast/Central Asia to celebrate Newroz (see this BBC report for background), but in no other culture has the holiday become more politicized. In Turkey, particularly in southeastern Anatolia, Newroz is bound up with Kurdish identity assertion. The line between celebrations and demonstrations tends to blur, making the holiday a potential flashpoint for violence. Given the recent resumption of hostilities between Turkey and the PKK, the run-up to this year’s Newroz seemed particularly tense. (Violence didn’t erupt until a week or so later.)
For Kurds, this Newroz marks the beginning of the year 2706. The KDP website carries this explanation:
The Kurdish legends say that Newroz celebrates the overthrow of ZUHAK the tyrant, who in various stores [sic] had snakes growing out of his shoulders and required human sacrifices to control his affliction. He was eventually defeated when a brave blacksmith by the name of KAWA led a revolt against him and freed the people.
Since the re-emergence of Kurdish national awareness in the last century, Newroz has become the symbol of a people rejoicing in their tradition but at the same time defying their respective oppressors.
A man we spoke with noted the significance of the month of March in all this. In March 1988 Saddam Hussein gassed Halabja. In March 1991 Kurds led their ill-fated uprising against Saddam in the aftermath of the first Gulf War. In March 2003 the U.S. military invaded Iraq.
Arriving in Iraqi Kurdistan at the start of this year’s Newroz (on Tuesday, March 21) was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, government offices were closed and fewer people were available for interviews. On the other, we witnessed a special time in the lives of ordinary Kurds. We broke bread with picnickers at the former military site of Sitaq, in the hills near Suleimaniya. And during our evening drive from Zakho to Suli, we saw the bonfires.
The symbol of Newroz is the bonfire. In Turkey, people jump through the fire in dramatic displays; in Iraqi Kurdistan, not so much. Before the autonomy period (post-1991), Saddam Hussein prohibited bonfires and other Newroz displays. Today they burn freely.
’Twas the night before Newroz, and just after twilight took hold, we drove the winding pass around the mountain pictured above. (I took the photo in daylight nearly a week later, on the drive back to Turkey.) At the very crest of the mountain, there was a bonfire. Every hundred yards or so, there was another. The entire slope was covered with bonfires. It was a mystic vision from an ancient world. The mountain flickered in the purple dusk, like a giant menorah. I watched from the car window, unable to believe my eyes.
I was told later that PKK guerrillas are taking refuge from Turkey in this very area—which partly explains the rows of Turkish tanks and heavy artillery at the border. As Sarkis Pogossian has explained at World War 4 Report, Iraqi Kurdistan has a reputation as an oasis of calm, but it sits atop a geopolitical fault line. To be continued…
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