Tough times… #OperationMosul

When I was young, very young, my father left me and my mother at a relative’s house and he crossed the border from Iran to take part in Kurdistan’s uprising. My mum had no clue, when she asked why my dad was late coming back, one of the relatives told her “he left!”

I don’t want to imagine how she felt. A mother to a young girl, in a foreign country, and husband off to a war. She wouldn’t hear if he is dead or alive, not even his voice… for a while.

How did mum go to sleep that night?

Today, I read a tweet about a little girl begging her father, also a Peshmerga, not to leave to his duty.

The sting in the father’s heart to see his daughter understanding where daddy is going- daddy is going to a place of danger, daddy is going and he may not return….

How about mummy? How can we forget about what mummy is feeling right now, as her little girl is asleep and husband is at the front line…

It saddens me to be living in a day and age where man dies while trying to kill another just for the future generation of his nation to live in peace. To be free.

My father, alongside so many other fathers (and mothers) fought and lived through harsh conditions just so we don’t go through their experiences. Guess what? Here we are, decades later, fighting once again… everything is the same, except the enemy is different.

I’m sorry my blog posts are dark and gloomy, but my dearest reader, in my side of the world things are no longer as I wish they were. Pray for us to stay safe, pray for our men in uniform to come back safely to their families. Please.

Love to my nest in Kurdistan



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