A Strange Confession
In Halloween of 1999, my best friend and I decided to dress up as "revolutionaries" for the holiday. This was shortly after my first trip to Turkey and I was touching the tip of the research iceberg that is the Kurdish question. My friend at the time was working on her senior thesis about the revolution in El Salvador and decided to be a FMLN member, I chose to be PKK. So we went to the local thrift store, bought some old army surplus clothing, and decorated them with patches and slogans that we came up with. On the abhorration that was my costume I intermixed slogans such as "Free Leyla Zana" and "Bless Ocalen!", I realize now that I have committed the Turkish falacy that all Kurdish rights groups were the same. The jacket with its conflicting messages of violence and peace still hangs in the back of my closet. I am not sure if I should burn it or just throw it out. In whatever form that piece of wretched cloth takes, it still reminds me that I will never learn enough about the Kurds.
However, the reason why I remember that outfit today is that it reminds me of the current status of the PKK/Kongra Gel today. It preaches peace but murders members who leave. One day they say to stop fighting, and then resume their war. There is this book in the library at the University I work at in which it details photographically the horrors that the PKK committed. Whenever I looked at the photos of the dead, in towns that I have been too, possibly even in destroyed villages that I excavated in, I used to think that the vivid blood must have been spilt by the jamdarmas, whose shoes could be seen in all of the photos. I couldn't believe that the PKK could hurt their own people like that. Now, look at them. They have become just as bad as their oppressors.
This message isn't entended to bring clarity, or hope, but rather serve as an example of the ambiguous sadness that plagues the Kurdish people that I hold so dear.
And I know that if I ever sent the jacket to Imrali prison, that the symbolism would be lost on Apo as well.
However, the reason why I remember that outfit today is that it reminds me of the current status of the PKK/Kongra Gel today. It preaches peace but murders members who leave. One day they say to stop fighting, and then resume their war. There is this book in the library at the University I work at in which it details photographically the horrors that the PKK committed. Whenever I looked at the photos of the dead, in towns that I have been too, possibly even in destroyed villages that I excavated in, I used to think that the vivid blood must have been spilt by the jamdarmas, whose shoes could be seen in all of the photos. I couldn't believe that the PKK could hurt their own people like that. Now, look at them. They have become just as bad as their oppressors.
This message isn't entended to bring clarity, or hope, but rather serve as an example of the ambiguous sadness that plagues the Kurdish people that I hold so dear.
And I know that if I ever sent the jacket to Imrali prison, that the symbolism would be lost on Apo as well.
posted by Delal @ | Permalink 
