Thérèse Roanet

“Tell me, why do people not listen to music and cry in your country? Why is your music so joyful whereas here in Şengal (1), our mothers listen music and shed tears?”

“You know, in Europe too, we sometimes cry listening music. When we don’t feel well we listen to sad music. We mostly listen to love songs that end badly or speak about angst when the world looks even more grey. But here it’s different...”

“Yes because our sorrows and songs carry the weight of the 74 genocides suffered by my people.”

We stop for a moment. A kemençe whispers a melody that blends with the breeze from the Şengal mountain. This ancestor of the violin was created in Mesopotamia hundreds of years ago. Its harmonious humming mingles with the dull rumble of a Turkish drone passing overhead. These drones of ill omen, which throw bombs to spread terror, fly over the sacred land of the Êzidîs every day and continue the 74th genocide discreetly (2). The Turkish state bombs in red with his rockets, he bombs in white with his lying propaganda, slaughtering bodies and wiping out cultures that stand in his way.

“When did you start to sing?"

“You know, since young I always was very close to my big brother Hassan and, because we were not rolling in money, we were going to herd sheep together and we would sing.”

“The shepherds are the best singers. A few days ago, I was in the Şengal mountain, its vast stony expanses, the fresh wind piercing the blazing sun. I was observing the vast plains of the city of  Şengal, at the bottom it’s old souk ravaged by bombings appears clearly. I was sitting under a rocky overhang, the ground strewn with pieces of fabric damaged by time. I imagined the refugee families here 10 years ago, children crying in their mother’s arms, thirsty. A flock passed, the shepherd sang a dengbêj and his voice resonated throughout the mountain, clear, limpid. Shivers ran through my body.”

“Our songs are as vast and powerful as our mountains where the shepherds sing. Our mountains are our refuges, and our songs are the refuges of our society and it’s history. But when Daesh arrived in 2014, when the peshmergas of PDK ran away taking our weapons, we had to leave our land and flee massacres and horrors in a long walk full of suffering. PKK guerrillas, YPJ and YPG fighters came to rescue Şengal’s population and opened a humanitarian corridor to enable us to take refuge in a migrant camp in Rojava. They then led a heroic struggle which, thanks to the immense courage of hundreds of martyred comrades, led to the liberation of Şengal in 2015. 

During this time, we went to the South of Kurdistan (Başûr) with my family where we stayed for two years. We had close relations there who helped us and found us jobs in order that we could provide for our needs. We worked in the fields. We were far away from our house but our heart’s stayed in Şengal. We lived near Suleymaniye, a big city where the European culture has damaged the society, it takes us away from the others and from ourselves. When I was talking about European culture, I made bad leap. This culture which is invading us in the Middle East, that is intent on homogenising us, is not that of Europe but that of capitalism. And this capitalism destroys your cultures too. You know, in Europe you too lived genocides.”

“Yes, it’s true, and if we learned more from our history we could develop a deeper internationalist struggle with the peoples who are suffering the cruel attacks of capitalist modernity. By the way, I would like to tell you the very old history of my ancestors. It was 800 years ago. At that time, religions from Zoroastrianism, straight from the Middle East spread into Europe. In my country, in Occitania (3), they were called Cathars. Much like the Êzidîs, their belief was closely linked to nature and carried strong values such as sharing and asceticism. Women also had an important role. But, because it seems that these beliefs contained so many values linked to life, values that are dangerous to those who govern this world, they tried to destroy them. In this way, the Pope sent a crusade to massacre the Cathars. The resistance was immense. In Montségur, 200 believers were sentenced to die at the stake. 

Without ever renouncing their faith, they sang until their last breath when the flame was lit under the immense stake. After this genocide, my country was invaded by France. Eight centuries later, there is almost nothing left of this disaster, neither in writing nor images nor objects, and this religion has been totally annihilated. Even our language is gradually fading away and disappearing. However, some songs have reached us that still bear witness to this time.”

“Its amazing to think that a song is stronger than a fortified castle. I too would like to write songs that will still be sung a thousand years later. Because with these songs, your Cathars have become immortal. So their values, belief and resistance can continue to be passed down.”

I hum slowly the thousand years old melody, and it’s as if we’re traveling through the ages, carried by the resistance and belief of the people who rebelled. My voice fades then is caught by his. Was it a song? Was it a scream? His voice frees itself from his rib cage, a majestic power that echoes in the mountains.

 “My friend, the Şengal’s mountain burns in the mist… It’s a very old song talking about one of the many genocides perpetrated against the Êzidî under the Ottoman empire. I learnt it from a comrade of the Şengal Resistance Units (YBŞ) with whom we used to sing a lot. I joined the YBŞ in 2017 when my family and I returned to Şengal. At this time, the region was full of life following Daesh’s defeat. The autonomous administration of Şengal, that had been set up in 2015 was growing and multiple of committees were flourishing. I had then heard about YBŞ and YJŞ (Şengal Women Units) which were set up to guarantee self defense for the population, and I decided to join them. At this time, the PKK Guerrillas hadn’t yet left and I was sent on training alongside them. We developed strong comradeships based on the thought of Rêber Apo (4). One of the comrades who had a big impact on me was singing all the time. I loved listening to him and singing with him when we were on call. By this way, my love of music has grown.

I also got closer of my older brother Hassan who was involved in the “Culture and Art” committee. He liked my voice and told me I had a lot of potential. So I was asked to join their committee, and I joyfully accepted. This is were I got to know my culture better. My older brother taught many young people from Şengal to sing. I made a lot of progress by his side. We worked a lot together. We also collected old archives from the region. My brother Hassan formed the group of Koma Çiyayê Şengalê in which I participated. From Şengal to Qandîl, we shared our songs in various celebrations. We had also released music clips about the resistance and autonomy of Şengal.

My brother carried out immense work to bring our culture to life here. He worked tirelessly, non-stop. He was so absorbed in work that he sometimes didn’t eat all day, he slept little. So much that his stomach ended up being damaged. Step by step he began to feel great pains, he couldn’t eat anything, he was exhausted. One day he fainted. I resuscitated him and took him to the hospital of Mosul were he had an operation. 

Over the next two years, he underwent several more operations.  Doctors eventually diagnosed him with cancer, which spread rapidly.

He fell as a martyr on the 23rd of March 2024, saying goodbye to his family and his friends.”

The sun has set. A star burns brightly in the sky, sparkles in my comrade’s eyes.

“Martyrs are those whose love for their people and for life is so great that they have committed their whole being to their revolutionary work. Şehîd Hassan will never die, because he has left a huge mark on our society. He will never die because we will pursue his relentless efforts and songs.”

1. Şengal is located in the north of Iraq (in South Kurdistan). It is the central place of life for the Ezîdî people. In 2014, genocide was perpetrated by Islamic State mercenaries (ISIS) in Şengal.

2. Ezîdî people are a Kurdish-speaking ethno-religious group originally from Mesopotamia. They are known for following an ancient religion: Êzdiyatî or Ezidism, and for having suffered over 70 genocides and massacres in the course of their history.

3. Occitania refers to the historical territory where the Occitan language is spoken. This includes the southern half of the French state, the Arran valley in Spanish State and around ten valleys in the Italian Alps.

4. Rêber Apo is a name for the people’s leader Abdullah Öcalan.