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Happy (Kurdish) New Year!
We had our version of Spring Break last week.
March 21st is the Kurdish New Year. It's called "Newroz," a compound word made up of the words "roz," the Kurdish word for "day," and "new," the English word for, well, "new." It's no mistake that their new year starts on the first day of Spring.
So how do the Kurds ring in the new year? Fireworks? Nope. A ball that drops at the stroke of midnight in some Times Square-like locale in Kurdistan? Hardly. The rituals were uniquely Kurdish, and with holidays being such a big deal to the folks here in Northern Iraq (as you well know from reading this LJ), we certainly did our fair share of celebrating this last week.
First, about the traditions: the majority of people here celebrate Newroz by going out of the city and having a picnic with friends and family. In that sense, it was very reminiscent of the way many Americans celebrate the 4th of July.
But the comparison breaks down here: many folks wear traditional Kurdish clothing ("jhily kurdi") and most groups will--at some point during the picnicking (if not throughout)--dance traditional Kurdish dances. More on that in a bit.
As for what we did:
Sunday
We had a big dance/party at the school on Sunday afternoon. Jeremiah and I had both purchased jhily kurdis, and we wore those for the shin-dig. Now, women's jhily kurdis are bright, beautiful flowing dresses. Men's jhilies are, uh, interesting; a suit jacket tucked into ridiculously oversized pants (even in his most legit pair of parachute pants, Hammer would've had nothing on me in my jhily kurdi pantalones!), with a large cloth wrapped several times around your midsection. Turbans and Kurdish shoes optional.
We danced for hours. It's a simple dance, which means even someone as uncoordinated as me can pick it up pretty quickly. And it's a very communal dance. Everyone stands in line, holds hands, and sways back and forth. The person at the front of the line waves a bright hanky (or something like it), and spontaneous hooting and ululating breaks out among the ranks. And yes, this goes on for hours.
Monday Night
We went out with some of Andrew's friends to a late-night Newroz celebration (Andrew lived and worked here last year, and came back to visit these past two weeks).
It was the equivalent of a New Year's Eve party in the States. The social hall was fairly-well packed with revelers of widely-varying ages and attires by the time we got there (around midnight). The five of us sat at a table, ate hors d'ouerves and drank Chivas, played Bingo along with everyone else during a 10-minute interlude, and got up to join in on the dancing every once in a while.
At one point--near the end of the night--I was approached by a young guy who wanted me to come back out on the floor and dance. Sure, it seemed a bit odd, but I figured it was cool (I mean, in this culture, men kiss one another on the cheeks and walk hand-in-hand or arm-in-arm in public). Instead of joining the dance line, though, he and I danced side-by-side, doing our own little routine with improvised dance moves (OK, it was only me improvising). It was quite entertaining, and a lot of fun, even though it did seem a bit strange to be dancing with a dude.
It wasn't until after we left the hall that my friends told me that it was, indeed, strange for me to be dancing one-on-one with another guy, even in this culture. It's good to know that, even in Iraq, I can somehow manage to get myself into these kinds of situations.
We drove to another social club afterwards (one where Iraqi President Jalal Talabani had been rumored to make an appearance), but by 2:30 AM the partying had pretty much died down there. Still, I'll never forget the trip there: cruising down a dirt road to the club in a C-class Mercedes (our friend who was driving is a Kurdish playboy, grew up in Sweden), we rolled up to the joint as the opening strains of Elvis' "A Little Less Conversation" started playing over the car stereo. Classic.
Tuesday
The 21st, Newroz. We slept in and then got up to head out for picnicking with the Kurdish guys we'd hung out with just hours earlier. We left the city, and--along with half of Northern Iraq--headed for the lake.
It's an absolutely gorgeous lake, with impressive mountains surrounding it in every which way. We spent a good portion of our afternoon enjoying a nice boat ride, admiring the incredible surroundings that alternated between bare, craggy cliffs and lush, rolling hills of emerald green...both of which were absolutely breath-taking when combined with the majestic mountains in the background.
I know; kinda hard to believe this is Iraq, huh?
We got back to the shore, and joined up with our friends' families for the meal. Traditional Kurdish dishes of yaprekh and briyani (which happen to be two of my favorites here) were dished up, and cans of Pepsi (or "Bibsi," as it's pronounced in Arabic) were distributed.
The twenty-something guys (there were about seven of us) went for a walk to a hill overlooking the lake, treating ourselves to ice cream bars along the way. We admired the view for a while longer, and then the three ajzhnibies ("foreigners") had to head back to the city. One of our good Iraqi friends had turned 21 today, so we went to celebrate with her.
Friday
A few days later--and after a bout of food poisoning for yours truly--we enjoyed some more picnicking. This time, it was a group made up entirely of ajzhnibies, save for one of our Iraqi friends (the birthday girl's sister).
We watched a huge flock of sheep pass by. I took the younger boys up to a pond where we tried catching frogs. Later, we did some climbing--first to an ancient Zoroastrian ruin, and then to the top of a mountain. Looking out over the landscape from that vantage point, I could imagine Old Testament characters tending their herds here thousands of years ago. And having a bird's eye view of this history-saturated land made me all the more anxious for the arrival of Walking the Bible: A Journey by Land Through the Five Books of Moses, a book I bought from Amazon, thanks to a glowing recommendation from Doug.
...
And so, my friends, it was quite a week.
I've posted many more pictures on the Scrapbook site: won't you check 'em out?
March 21st is the Kurdish New Year. It's called "Newroz," a compound word made up of the words "roz," the Kurdish word for "day," and "new," the English word for, well, "new." It's no mistake that their new year starts on the first day of Spring.
So how do the Kurds ring in the new year? Fireworks? Nope. A ball that drops at the stroke of midnight in some Times Square-like locale in Kurdistan? Hardly. The rituals were uniquely Kurdish, and with holidays being such a big deal to the folks here in Northern Iraq (as you well know from reading this LJ), we certainly did our fair share of celebrating this last week.
First, about the traditions: the majority of people here celebrate Newroz by going out of the city and having a picnic with friends and family. In that sense, it was very reminiscent of the way many Americans celebrate the 4th of July.
But the comparison breaks down here: many folks wear traditional Kurdish clothing ("jhily kurdi") and most groups will--at some point during the picnicking (if not throughout)--dance traditional Kurdish dances. More on that in a bit.
As for what we did:
Sunday
We had a big dance/party at the school on Sunday afternoon. Jeremiah and I had both purchased jhily kurdis, and we wore those for the shin-dig. Now, women's jhily kurdis are bright, beautiful flowing dresses. Men's jhilies are, uh, interesting; a suit jacket tucked into ridiculously oversized pants (even in his most legit pair of parachute pants, Hammer would've had nothing on me in my jhily kurdi pantalones!), with a large cloth wrapped several times around your midsection. Turbans and Kurdish shoes optional.
We danced for hours. It's a simple dance, which means even someone as uncoordinated as me can pick it up pretty quickly. And it's a very communal dance. Everyone stands in line, holds hands, and sways back and forth. The person at the front of the line waves a bright hanky (or something like it), and spontaneous hooting and ululating breaks out among the ranks. And yes, this goes on for hours.
Monday Night
We went out with some of Andrew's friends to a late-night Newroz celebration (Andrew lived and worked here last year, and came back to visit these past two weeks).
It was the equivalent of a New Year's Eve party in the States. The social hall was fairly-well packed with revelers of widely-varying ages and attires by the time we got there (around midnight). The five of us sat at a table, ate hors d'ouerves and drank Chivas, played Bingo along with everyone else during a 10-minute interlude, and got up to join in on the dancing every once in a while.
At one point--near the end of the night--I was approached by a young guy who wanted me to come back out on the floor and dance. Sure, it seemed a bit odd, but I figured it was cool (I mean, in this culture, men kiss one another on the cheeks and walk hand-in-hand or arm-in-arm in public). Instead of joining the dance line, though, he and I danced side-by-side, doing our own little routine with improvised dance moves (OK, it was only me improvising). It was quite entertaining, and a lot of fun, even though it did seem a bit strange to be dancing with a dude.
It wasn't until after we left the hall that my friends told me that it was, indeed, strange for me to be dancing one-on-one with another guy, even in this culture. It's good to know that, even in Iraq, I can somehow manage to get myself into these kinds of situations.
We drove to another social club afterwards (one where Iraqi President Jalal Talabani had been rumored to make an appearance), but by 2:30 AM the partying had pretty much died down there. Still, I'll never forget the trip there: cruising down a dirt road to the club in a C-class Mercedes (our friend who was driving is a Kurdish playboy, grew up in Sweden), we rolled up to the joint as the opening strains of Elvis' "A Little Less Conversation" started playing over the car stereo. Classic.
Tuesday
The 21st, Newroz. We slept in and then got up to head out for picnicking with the Kurdish guys we'd hung out with just hours earlier. We left the city, and--along with half of Northern Iraq--headed for the lake.
It's an absolutely gorgeous lake, with impressive mountains surrounding it in every which way. We spent a good portion of our afternoon enjoying a nice boat ride, admiring the incredible surroundings that alternated between bare, craggy cliffs and lush, rolling hills of emerald green...both of which were absolutely breath-taking when combined with the majestic mountains in the background.
I know; kinda hard to believe this is Iraq, huh?
We got back to the shore, and joined up with our friends' families for the meal. Traditional Kurdish dishes of yaprekh and briyani (which happen to be two of my favorites here) were dished up, and cans of Pepsi (or "Bibsi," as it's pronounced in Arabic) were distributed.
The twenty-something guys (there were about seven of us) went for a walk to a hill overlooking the lake, treating ourselves to ice cream bars along the way. We admired the view for a while longer, and then the three ajzhnibies ("foreigners") had to head back to the city. One of our good Iraqi friends had turned 21 today, so we went to celebrate with her.
Friday
A few days later--and after a bout of food poisoning for yours truly--we enjoyed some more picnicking. This time, it was a group made up entirely of ajzhnibies, save for one of our Iraqi friends (the birthday girl's sister).
We watched a huge flock of sheep pass by. I took the younger boys up to a pond where we tried catching frogs. Later, we did some climbing--first to an ancient Zoroastrian ruin, and then to the top of a mountain. Looking out over the landscape from that vantage point, I could imagine Old Testament characters tending their herds here thousands of years ago. And having a bird's eye view of this history-saturated land made me all the more anxious for the arrival of Walking the Bible: A Journey by Land Through the Five Books of Moses, a book I bought from Amazon, thanks to a glowing recommendation from Doug.
...
And so, my friends, it was quite a week.
I've posted many more pictures on the Scrapbook site: won't you check 'em out?