I met Falah on my first day at the Bersiva camps, where he served as an art teacher for the children residing there. As I entered his tent, I was greeted by a remarkable sight. The entire space was adorned with sketches and depictions, transforming the nylon tent into a vibrant canvas.
Hajim, like the others, fled Sinjar with his family and resettled outside of Duhok. Every morning, we’d wake up together at 6 am, head to the camps, and work until the late evening hours. It didn’t take too long before we became great friends.
Ali was a sharecropper on this farm and hoped to harvest a reasonable amount of vegetables but it seems the heat prevented him from seeing any fruition of his crops.
Ahlem, a 14-year-old girl with kind eyes and a remarkable talent for art. We sat in her family's small white trailer, escaping the July heat, and delved into her world of paintings. Her artwork, a vivid representation of Ezidi identity, portrayed the recent genocide, cultural richness, celebrations, traditional clothing, sacred practices, and the struggles of life in the camps.
Khalaf and I quickly became friends as Falah introduced us. He had impeccable English skills, and we sat down together to read a few books. In the midst of our conversation, I asked about his life in the refugee camps and his perspective on the state of his people after the genocide. Like many other Ezidi individuals I spoke with, Khalaf carried sadness provided the circumstances he had endured.
We are working with Kurdish-Yarsani Religious leaders to compile the fundamentals of their religious doctrine and culture, coming soon!