{"id":94,"date":"2019-10-29T18:51:06","date_gmt":"2019-10-29T18:51:06","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/hawcharkh.net\/en\/?p=94"},"modified":"2020-06-05T17:20:19","modified_gmt":"2020-06-05T17:20:19","slug":"letter","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/hawcharkh.net\/en\/2019\/10\/29\/letter\/","title":{"rendered":"Letter"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

by: Khabat Rasuli<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

translator: Kurdistan Hajebi<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This is the story of thirty years ago narrated for you. This\nwas narrated for me in many ways, during this years I’ve added and cut so many\nother story to it and maybe changed it completely.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But there is something fixed in it  certainly i.e a woman, two kids and a\nquisling have roles in it. A man has a peshmarga’s letter and looks everywhere\nfor the woman to hand her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sometime I thought a person who has the letter was actually\na woman not a man even I could imagine here appearance, about more than\ntwenty-year-old woman with black eyes and skin. Yet I know she has been\npeshmarga for two years and three months. She was in love there then the beloved\nwas been martyr and she failed in love severely then came back to her city\ninevitability. Before coming back this letter is given her to hand in the woman\nbut the last person who retold this story for me swore that story was not like\nthat anyway and the person who had the letter was a very old man that his son\nwas peshmarga and he has gone to mountain to bring back his son to his home\nthen he realized that his son has been martyr. he was told that his son loved a\ntwenty-year-old girl with black eyes and skin. The old man wants to see the\ngirl but he were old she has failed severely and come back to city then he is\ngiven the letter to hand in the kids’ mother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The story that I want to retell it is exactly the story of\nthe character of mother and the content of the letter. Who the girl and old man\nwere is not related to us. What people spoke about it was that the girl or the\nold man has brought a letter from the guys there to city.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It is said while it was raining the girl or old man knocked\nthe door and looked around fearfully.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The kids’ mother has been told people after that her husband\nhas been martyr she hasn’t received any letter from the mountain and also till\nnow she hasn’t got any letter from the mountain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The woman told the letter was as small as a candy and packed\nwith paste. She didn’t tell that where the letter was hidden, some of them says\nit is hidden in the fecket and some says it was hidden in the sock. Whom says\nthe girl brought the letter hid it through her breasts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After opening on the letter, the woman realized that quisling\nhas become peshmaga and brought her the letter from the mountain. Unfortunately\nI have to revise the story and clarify some more information. In this story a\nwoman, two kids and a peshmarga who was quisling before have roles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After thirty years I knew about why that peshmaga was\nquisling. Thirty years is not a short time! Then while I was playing\nknucklebones game with my mom and wife, my wife described this story\nwhispering. I heard she said:” we were by my husband in mountain. I cross\nmy heart that I haven’t known why he was in mountain. As My father was in city,\nI thought he, husband of the woman, has gone mountain for hiking or to pick up\nacanthus and rhubarb. I didn’t know he was peshmarga.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My mother was impressed, tear fills her eyes, she murmured\nsomething as good old days or God bless him or somethig like these I couldn’t\nhear well I was far away. Playing knucklebones is not the same with playing taw\nthat to throw a bead and bow then listen to their words and play at the same\ntime.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wish I was clever and went closer to listen to their\nmemories. Damn me I knew I will retell it a day but not as broken as that. The\nwoman told:” when we got in the minibus on the way back of home a quisling\ngot in too worn with Kurdish cloth and gun, the children were excited and\ncheered up hey mom, here is a peshmarga. They didn’t know the differences\nbetween quisling and peshmafga, what they see is that both of them are Kurds\nand wear Kurdish cloth and have gun.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The quisling had written when I heard them quickly realized\nwhat’s the matter. I turned back and saw a poor scared woman with two five\nyears old girl ad boy sat behind me. He had written the woman muffled his\nchildren not to say anything. When we arrived checkpoint they were scared\nbecause the thought the police will arrest me, because peshmargas are forbidden\ninside the city but quisling are not. He’d written I was shying I hoped police\nhad been arrested and killed me as a peshmarga.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Neighbors said:” when they arrived in city the quisling\nasked for address and the woman started to cry.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The quisling had written I cried too but secretly. The\nchildren hadn’t cried that day. The quisling hadn’t said he bet he will be\npeshmarga, just told don’t afraid he won’t hurt them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Some people says the woman didn’t give him the address and\nhe himself chased them. I think so it is right because quislings chase\neverybody most of the time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The girl brought the letter had said it wad found in the\nmartyr’s pocket. I again said the girl, who knows it wasn’t the old man that\nknocked the door and gave it to the woman in the rainy day. I’ve never seen the\nwoman to ask her if the quisling had been martyr after he became peshmarga and\nthe letter was in his pocket or he himself gave it to the girl or the old man.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

by: Khabat Rasuli translator: Kurdistan Hajebi . This is the story of thirty years ago narrated for you. This was narrated for me in many ways, during this years I’ve added and cut so many other story to it and maybe changed it completely. But there is something fixed in it  certainly i.e a woman, …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":95,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[18,11,2,7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-94","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-khabat-rasuli","category-kurdistan-hajebi","category-story","category-storytellers"],"yoast_head":"\nLetter - Hawcharkh<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/hawcharkh.net\/en\/2019\/10\/29\/letter\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Letter - Hawcharkh\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"by: Khabat Rasuli translator: Kurdistan Hajebi . This is the story of thirty years ago narrated for you. This was narrated for me in many ways, during this years I’ve added and cut so many other story to it and maybe changed it completely. 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