For days now, the Syrian interim government, together with Islamist mercenaries, has been carrying out attacks on Rojava, a de facto autonomous region in northeastern Syria. Not only is a humanitarian catastrophe imminent, but also the end of the Kurdish self-government.
Emel is about sixty years old and wears thick glasses and a white, traditional Kurdish headscarf. In her apartment in Qamishli (in Kurdish, Qamişlo), she offers fruit to guests. Her relatives are currently in the northern Syrian city of Aleppo, in the predominantly Kurdish districts of Sheikh Maqsoud and Ashrafiyah. Some have been missing for almost two weeks. Whether they are injured, have fled, or have been killed is unknown. Over two weeks ago, an attack was launched in Aleppo against supporters of Rojava — also known as the Democratic Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria (DAANES). Last week, the assault widened: The Syrian interim government and other jihadist groups supported by Turkey are attacking Rojava on three fronts.
But Emel remains determined. Her confidence as a woman in the resistance shines through in accounts of previous attacks, where she defended herself along with many other women. As a sign of community, songs are exchanged. After the anti-fascist song “Bella Ciao,” Emel responds by singing the Kurdish resistance song “Dil Dixwaze Here Cengê” (“The Heart Wants to Fight”). It’s not so much an abstract romanticization of revolution as it is a portrayal of the political reality in which many Kurds have lived for decades.
Soon after the singing, Emel’s son Agit and her six-year-old grandson Memo arrive from Aleppo. The family reunion is marked by both relief and sadness. Agit recounts being driven from her home and fleeing to the hospital in Sheikh Maqsoud, which at times has had to care for more than a hundred wounded. On the second day of fighting, two doctors were killed there by Syrian army soldiers. “We fled to the hospital with many other…
Auteur: Annette Zellner
