Kala'a & Halloween in Iraq

Yesterday, on Halloween Day 2008, I stood within the fortress-like walls of the oldest continually-inhabited city in human history- the Citadel of Erbil. 

Until then, I had only seen this imposing structure from the bazaar below. It stands atop a steep dirt mound rising 30 meters above the ground that seems completely out of place in the middle of the bustling streets of Erbil city center. Rather than standing awkwardly, though, it gives the city center a feeling of unity because of its circular build and central location; of protection because of its awesome fortress-like walls and lofty place in the clouds, not to mention the humongous stone statue of ??? that guards its entrance; and of pride in ancient glory, it being one of the few structures still left standing to bear testament to the old history of the people of this city.

Like the walls of the citadel (”kala'a”, as the locals call it- meaning “castle”), the position and power of Iraq may have crumbled and deteriorated, especially in recent years- they've gone from the “Cradle of Civilization” to “war-torn developing nation”- but also like the walls of the citadel, Erbil at least is undergoing renovation. It is like a phoenix rising from the ashes, to use a well-worn metaphor, slowly rebuilding its nest twig by twig after its destruction by the various fires of human history. Whether this rebuilding is happening under the guidance of a good power is questionable, because power placed in the hands of most men is doomed to corruption, but what is entirely unquestionable is that the current government is a zillion times better than Uncle Saddaam (not your average Fun Uncle). And so for now, Kurds in general are more inclined to praise rather than decry the Barzanis. 

The sun was just beginning to set as we ventured up the steep dirt path that led to the entrance. We had spent the afternoon searching high and low for Halloween costumes (will you believe it when I tell you how successful we were). When we finally reached the bazaar, we were famished, and so we stopped to grab some really delicious, perfectly salted shwarmas from the nearest shwarma stand. By the time we made our way to the camouflaged man who stood guarding the way to the old castle, dusk was on its way, and so the view from the top of the mound was already incredible. The contrast between the stark, hollow ancient city now empty of inhabitants, and the modern streets below, bustling with electric lights and cars and people and voices and honks and peddlers' shouts of “yek hazar, yek hazar!” struck me immediately, but not as something inharmonious. Just an interesting juxtaposition of two very different times.

The outer walls are carved with lofty, arched entrances and small, curved windows. Unlike architectural specimen of later centuries, this oldest of buildings lacks any sort of artistic touches. No engravings of fleurs-de-lis, no abstract geometric patterns, no curly-cues or arabesques. Just stark, crumbling stone. Once we are within the walls, I am freaked out by the dozens of stray cats that roam the narrow streets and haunt the ancient cobblestone alleys. What a story one could come up with about the lives of these cats that have found a convenient home in this empty “lot”! There are street signs just like a real city, a couple garbage cans, and even arabic graffiti on the walls, but it does not feel like I am standing in a real city. Rather, I get the feeling of standing in a large dollhouse.

I choose a path and walk up, warning the creepy felines to stay away, and soon, I find myself approaching a textile museum. The textile museum is full of colorful locally-sewn tapestry hanging on every inch of the walls, and draped over the rails of the balconies. In the center of the ground floor there is a glass-encased table displaying the different patterns of those Muslim hats (forget the name), one pattern for each tribe of Iraqi Kurdistan. I recognize the family names of some of my students there. A man advises us to go to the antique shop next door, so we head out. 

To my delight, the antique shop is jam-packed like a rich great-aunt's attic with not only tapestry, but shepherds' bags, purses, silver jewelry boxes and genie lamps, paintings, pillows, rugs, figurines, and all sorts of random knick-knacks, all crafted by locals (supposedly), and all for sale! Finally, a place where I can buy some really cool souvenirs (I've found Erbil shops and bazaars to be sadly lacking in authentic goods- almost everything seems to be imported from Syria, Lebanon, Korea, even H&M stores in America! Second-hand of course.). A painting of Saddaam Hussein hangs with the ranks of Talabani (president of Iraq) and other distinguished men of Iraq. A cobalt blue hamsa hand hangs on another wall with the ubiquitous evil eye dangling just under it. The coolest thing I saw was this ivory/porcelain-crafted sword with Arabic writing across the handle and blade. I have no idea what it says, but it reminds me of something from Lord of the Rings or Arthurian legends- magically-crafted swords with spells engraved into them, you know?

After spending some time there, I wander back out to explore more of the citadel, but by the time I step out, it is late and the citadel is closing. The view from the top of the citadel mound is amazing at sunset. Half the sky is awash with brilliant streaks of orange and yellow; the shambly, low-hanging rooftops below spread out for several blocks until my gaze reaches the taller rectangular structures of the unfinished American embassy; the streets below are still lively at dusk; and minutes later, “God's fingernail” has risen now, over the silhouetted rooftops in the distance to the east.  I vow to myself to come here and to the bazaar below every week, and explore every nook and cranny until I know them both like the back of my hand. It's like a giant playground, the coolest place I've seen in Iraq so far. Finally some place to go to other than the damn Edge and the “malls”! 

Not that the Edge is such a terrible place. Later that evening, we headed over there for the annual Halloween party, dressed up in actual Halloween costumes that we found in a little hideaway shop at Lenge bazaar- another fun maze of a place to wander around and get lost in. 

The 5th Edge Experience is characterized by minimal drinking and maximal dancing in outrageous outfits, as well as angry shattering of glass and pumpkin-smashing, and sitting alone on the porch swing by the empty pool outside. I was in the company of a gypsy, a jester, a hippie, a witch, Elvis/Evil Knievel, several black fros, and the usual mercenaries. As for myself? I was dressed as a porcelain clown doll, in a one-piece, orange and white clown outfit with ruffled wrists and ankles, multicolored scrunchies in my hair, red gloss on my cheeks and lipstick, and my green shoes. Happy Halloween 2008!