[Reader-list] As strong as the mountains

[francesca recchia]

Sandstorms are never-ending. The one that is going on now has been
lasting for 24 hours: it is hard to breathe and impossible to see the buildings
on the other side of the courtyard. The sky is yellow and the smell of dust so
intense that overpowers everything else. 

 

When I first arrived, six months ago, I had the feeling that something
strong and “primordial” connected me to Kurdistan.
Living in a place that is surrounded by mountains makes me feel at home and –
however much differences are more prominent than similarities – the sensation
of familiarity with the landscape is this something that makes me feel at ease
here. 

The idea of Kurdish “nation” and identity is constructed around the
mountains. From the myth of origins to the uprising, from Ararat to the
peshmerga, mountains are always part of the narration – not as the background
of the story, but as one of the constitutive elements of the narrative.

I have always thought that mountains would have an impact on people’s
character. If I think of home, of my family, of our roots, there is in them an
unmistakable trait that comes from the mountains. I have found that same trait
here – with different words and feelings, but still with the same meanings. Perhaps
it is this ancient proximity that connects me to this place: it is a way
of feeling that is connected to the solidity of the mountains, which generates
a rough but still welcoming approach to the world. 

The earthquake – or better the stories about the earthquake that my
family and childhood friends have told me – gave me the chance to grasp the
sense of my instinctive attachment to this place. I have been told, from my
hometown, stories of pride and dignity, stories of a people that is wounded but
not defeated. From afar, through these words, I rediscovered that part of
myself that comes from the mountains. And in this rediscovery I have found the
meaning of my proximity to Kurdistan.

 

My writing this week is a bit surreal and the yellow sky doesn’t help to
find clarity. The loneliness I felt these past days – the emptiness that the
awareness of missing out a significant part of the history of my family and my
land – has been perhaps mitigated a little by the perception of this proximity,
an ancestral and irrational feeling that functioned a bit as an anchor in a
moment of deep disorientation. 

 
francesca recchia
kiccovich at yahoo.com
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