Peshmerga: Hope of the Fatherland

By: Fargo Bcn

One of the most beautiful and touching moments I had on my journey searching for the Kurds was meeting this young peshmerge at the PDKI headquarters in Koya. The moment I got to sit opposite him, facing each other for an interview about his life experience joining the peshmerga unit, I could see from his shy expression that he was a bit nervous. I tried to smile at him to make him feel at ease. I couldn’t find a better way to start a conversation but to ask him something else. It blurred out my mouth, “How old are you?" I don’t know if that was an excellent question, but it was the first thing that came to mind. He replied in a very polite way that he was 22 years old. It melted my heart that I was facing a young gentleman whose face was as meek and gentle as a lamb but with a fearless heart as strong as a lion. It reminded me of my son, who entered the Marine Academy and is proving himself to join the Navy and sailors to fulfill his dreams and calling.

This young peshmerga officer's name is Hiva. As he related his story to what motivated and challenged him more than two years ago to become a soldier “freedom fighter” (Peshmerga), I can't help but admire his strong will and independent thinking at his early age. He escaped the atrocities of the Islamic Iranian regime. He found his fellow young adults searching for the same answer to appease their burning desire to fight for the cause of freedom and independence. It’s evident without saying that life adversities have made him choose a path that wasn’t easy, but he is happy about his choice and undoubtedly so proud of being a #Peshmerga. His steadfast determination to serve his nation has grown stronger over the years as he witnessed the oppression and struggle of the Kurdish people, not only fighting against ISIS but also defending their people against the subjugation of the Islamic Iranian Regime that continues to deprive the rights of the Kurds through imprisonment and endless execution.

I felt my heart sink as he carried on. Looking at his sad expression, I couldn’t help but notice his misty eyes. I asked him what he missed the most about being away from home. He shyly admitted, smiling, “I miss my family, especially my mom.” That melted my heart, and I told him, “I miss my son too.” And before we both cried each other, I broke the conversation with an invitation to have a photo together. As I escorted him outside, I felt the pride of a mother’s heart within me as we bid each other farewell. It's been one of those days that I miss my son's hug.

It’s been exactly a year now that this memory reminds me of a beautiful acquaintance. From that day on, a wonderful friendship was born. Dast xosh, Hiva.