In Kurdistan, Jewels Turn into Slums

[Aslan]

If it is true that, to make the best of your future you must know your past, then Iraq’s Kurdistan Region needs greater action to preserve its dying priceless heritage.

With every ancient building or site that is crumbling out of neglect or ignorance – sometimes because it is just in the “wrong” place and must be moved or destroyed to make way for modern buildings or roads -- a little bit of knowledge is lost forever. Iraqi Kurdistan has been endowed with a very rich history that goes as far back as civilization. But those traces of history are vanishing.

One day, when Kurdish children read in their textbooks that they live in what was once the very cradle of civilization, they will just have to believe their school, because there may be little or nothing left of the ancient past for them to see.

I am not Jewish, but since I am writing a book about Jews in Kurdistan, I have been interested in tracing their roots here in the region. It has not been an easy search.

The grave of the Old Testament’s Prophet Ezra lies in Erbil, and near Sulaimaini is the shrine of Job, who is revered by Jews, Christians and Muslims. Just outside Kurdistan, in regions that one day could be incorporated into Kurdistan, are other historical figures respected by all three faiths: In Kirkuk one can find the shrine of Daniel, and Mosul has the grave of Jonah; on the plains of Nineveh is the shrine of Nahum in Al-Qosh, who is recognized as a prophet both by Jews and Christians.

The list of historical treasures is long and impressive. What is not impressive, however, is how these neglected treasures of antiquity are cared for.

The grave of Ezra I still have to find: The official tourist guide from the Kurdistan Board of Tourism unfortunately omits any information about where in Erbil to find the site. The picture in the book is not inspiring. By the looks of it, a building of new concrete blocks has been built over the site. The grave of Job is situated in a better spot: in a village cemetery, under a big tree. Nice, green, airy.

The shrine that I did visit is Nahum’s, in the only remaining synagogue in Iraq, in Al-Qosh. Since I first went there, the bones have been taken from the grave and reburied in a nearby Christian church – because they were in danger of being robbed, I was told. The Jewish prophet, who foretold the end of the Assyrian empire, belonged in the synagogue where he was buried, and where his grave was visited yearly by thousands of Jews, not in a church!

At the same time that Kurdish authorities are working with UNESCO to save the Citadel of Erbil, with its 8,000-year history, the former Jewlakan (Jewish quarter) located only a stone’s throw away, is crumbling, transformed into something of a slum out of neglect.

I always take my friends and visiting tourists to this area, and my stories help them see the former beauty through the ruins and dirt. They worry with me that more and more of the area is demolished for modern city buildings. They share my happiness over the new metal roof of the synagogue in Al-Qosh, to stop any further damage of the ruins from rain.

It hurts me to see that hardly anybody seems to care about all this in Kurdistan. I tried to contact the governor of Erbil, Nawzad Hadi, about the issue; but to no avail.

The Jews lived in Kurdistan for almost 3,000 years and they were part of the fabric of society, more so than in the rest of Iraq, where they largely held power as bankers and money lenders. In contrast, Kurdistan’s Jews were mainly farmers, weavers and textile painters, tradesmen, goldsmiths and shopkeepers.

They lived everywhere in the region, but few of their footsteps remain. I found a synagogue changed into a mosque in 1958 in Sulaimani – some six years after almost all of the Jews had left the country and their Jewlakans became inhabited by Muslims.

What struck me most was that, together with their physical traces, knowledge of the Jews of Kurdistan also had vanished. In my search I was happy enough to find some elderly Kurds who still remembered their presence.

For centuries the Jews were part of the history of Kurdistan, but few people want to know about that. I suppose that does not only apply to the Jewish past.

When I walk through my own native city, Amsterdam, where old historical buildings are carefully renovated and preserved, I am actually walking through a living museum, a reminder of both our good history, and our bad.

The grand old houses and former warehouses are reminders of our Golden Age, an era of prosperity that also gave us some of our most famous painters.

But at the same time, we realize we are seeing some of the fruits of an inhumane slave trade, which paid for some of the bigger buildings on the Amsterdam canals.

Here in Kurdistan, substantial renovation continues on the Erbil Citadel. But what about the many other historical treasures?

The century-old Gate Amedi is littered with junk. The last buildings in Sulaimani from the time of Sheikh Mahmoud, the only Kurdish king, who briefly ruled during the previous century, lie old and neglected. The Jewlakan and other old neighbourhoods of Erbil are listed for demolition.

In Kurdistan, where everyone wants to buy the latest, newest and most modern, it may be difficult for the wealthy to imagine living in the center of a city like Erbil. But in Amsterdam, the old city center is one of the coveted places to live. Because of steady demand, housing prices remain secure in that part of town.

This could also be true for the remaining older neighbourhoods in Kurdistan, if they were renovated in such a way that behind the original facade the houses offered all the modern amenities people expect.

Through the centuries people with money have always demolished and put something modern in place of the old. Many beautiful old places have not survived this trend. But times change. Modern generations know the value of historical buildings and do not want to see their cities turn into mazes of concrete and glass.

“A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin and culture is like a tree without roots”, is a quote by Jamaican publisher Marcus Garvey. “Without the past, there is no future”, is another quote that I think the people of Kurdistan must keep in mind.