Day 2 in Northwestern Syria

Today we were confronted more squarely with the war being fought in Syria, and the intensity of life and death in a beleaguered war zone; although we also got the chance to visit the 4000 year old archaeological site of Urkesh, one of the earliest cities.

We spent a long time talking with soldiers from the YPJ Amuda brigade. The YPJ is the Kurdish women’s militia; they claim to be about 50% of the Kurdish front line fighters, and are an impressively tough bunch. They often act as bodyguards of women in ruling positions.

Typically, only one or two daughters in a family will join the YPJ, which is structured much like the PKK’s women brigades. They do not have other grades than commander and soldier. The commanders are selected on their experience and leadership qualities, and live as equals with the soldiers They can fight for several years, sharing equally in the task of fighting and logistics with the men’s brigades – the YPG – with whom they mix freely during their hours of duty, although they are careful to maintain high moral standards (no touching, in particular).

The soldiers we spoke too, as by the way many other Kurdish women, insisted on their strict morals, probably as a response to the male-dominated societies surrounding them, who see such free women as little better than whores.

We talked about such perceptions, their motivation – to fight Islamic State, who they see as a bunch of drug-addicted sex-crazy lunatics – their life in the army, and how it was to quit the army and return to civilian life.

For the time being, they said, few women quit the YPJ, and of those who tried, several returned to the unit, Commander Axin said, because “they were disgusted by the deceit and laxness of civilian life, and longed for the purity of life in the YPJ”. I believe that, once the fighting is over, Kurdish society may have difficulties reintegrating these women into civilian life.

Part of the Kurds readiness to face death is certainly due to the culture of venerating martyrs. Besides the photographs of martyrs that are absolutely everywhere, sometimes photoshopped into amazing ensembles, the funerals of people who die while in service to the nation are also grand affairs. We assist to one such funeral – as one may imagine, they are very frequent – at the martyrs’ cemetery of Qamishlo.

A huge mob first listens to the speeches commemorating Dilo, then throngs around his burial place. Tears and grief are genuine, and small portraits of the martyr are distributed to all present, who pin them on their lapels or, at home, on the wall or on a tree. It is not difficult to imagine that such a respect and consideration encourage people here to face death.

The utter hate of Islamic State is stronger here in Rojava then even in Europe. The relations with the Assad regime, though cold, are much more pragmatic. The Baath party has repressed the Kurds since its accession to power in 1963. Before that they had a bit more freedom, although they have always faced discrimination as a minority.

One of our guides, a Dutch Kurd, told us that he was returning to Rojava for the first time since he fled, when he was 9 years old. His father had been accused, with 8 others, of organizing a Nawroz celebration for the Persian New Year (21 March). When his friends were captured, to meet certain death, his father immediately fled with his family, leaving all behind. The son could not return to Syria because the regime had a policy by which they would imprison the eldest son for crimes committed by his father. The use of the Kurdish language, spoken or written, was also strictly forbidden, and Kurds had no chance of joining the administration or the army at all but the lowest ranks.

It is therefore surprising to encounter the Syrian flag, regime soldiers and portraits of Bashar Al Assad, and even of his father Hafez. Our Kurdish guides explain that the Rojava authorities allowed the government to run the post office, the airport and the branch offices of some other national services which they couldn’t sensibly run on their own.

As a result of this informal non-agression pact Assad’s Syria does nothing against Rojava, and services still run between the capital and the province. Although Kurdish inhabitants are still not welcome in Damascus’ universities, our Arab interpreter is planning to study a master there, despite the war.

In the afternoon, we got a chance to visit an archaeological site – the ancient city of Urkesh, also called Tel Mozan. At first site you may wonder why for heaven’s sake we would go on such a tourist excursion. Well, there’s a reason the Minister for Women’s Affairs, Amina Omar, took as there.

The Kurds are busy writing their national narrative: one that fits the current revolution and Ocalan’s theories, to be sure; but which also tries to make sense of many recent discoveries made in the region.

The historical narrative that I have grown up with – portraying man as gradually moving, very slowly, from the brutish state of nature to our space-age technology and global consciousness – has been overtaken by facts. It now appears that the cave man, which in my imaginary is dragging a woman by her hair with a club over his shoulder, was capable of abstract thought and artistic expression.

Recently, a city was discovered on Gobekli Tepe in southern Turkey, near Rojava (read about it here). It is 11.000 years old, and it demonstrates that the materialistic theory we learnt at school – that man first needed to subject his environment through agriculture, taking care of his basic needs before thinking of higher things – is manifestly false.

The Kurdish national narrative posits a ‘golden age’ when men and women were equal and lived in harmony with nature, and dates it to the neolithic period (roughly 10,000 to 5,000 BC). In this period, however, man managed to assert his superiority over woman, and enshrined it in patriarchic institutions such as the State and Religion. These institutions led to permanent war in the world; the war in turn ensured the continued dominance of man.

We heard this state of original innocence being used time and again as argument for the ‘natural logic’ of the Rojava revolution, and in particular the re-balancing of gender relations in society and the ordering of communities along the principles of social ecology. It made me coin the joke ‘from the Neolithic to the Monolithic’; but in fact, this reading of human development is no more fanciful than the one I was taught in schools.

Urkesh was less impressive than I would have hoped, almost all the ruins being made of mud. But the vast site indicated the intensity of urban life here four thousand years ago, reminding me of the beautiful Gilgamesh. It also struck me that the site was well guarded, while most archaeological sites in Syria are being subjected to thorough looting. It is another reason to appreciate the peace and order in Rojava.

After this dusty visit, we really desired a cold beer. Since our arrival we have not drunk any alcohol. The PYD, despite its liberal attitude in most other social matters (except sexual relations), does not allow its members to consume alcohol. But it is freely available, especially in the Christian quarters of Rojava’s towns. After several days of hard work and travel we’re really glad to relax in ‘Cafe Miami’ in downtown Qamishlo.

It is again hard to remind oneself that we are in a war zone, despite our experiences today. War is always only a reality in a certain place at a certain point in time, and elsewhere/at other times life tries to go on as normal, we think philosophically while sipping a cold beer.