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Huseyn KAYTAN: Serhad’s Final Days…

At the time we started the Journey to [Mount] Judy, I developed a good relationship with Serhad. Now that is about what I will talk. During our journey, we lost him [Serhad]. He was lost between the mountains and canyons and could not be seen anywhere. Still tens or maybe even hundreds of people have lost their lives in front of us and united with the land. Those people will never be separated again from those mountains and canyons. Yet for all of them, the word “Death” was not ever mentioned because uniting with the land was always their aim. They will always be there in Kurdistan where they crossed.

Now I am in the rain, in the end of the century. I will talk about Serhad. You will know from the beginning.

We are in a ravine valley in Southwestern Zagros Mountains, where the Medes and Persians used to hunt tigers. In the winter of 1998 and the early months of 1999, we were in a strong storm. It was here, in August 15, with these high elevations in front of us, and the Zagros pastures above our heads in scattered snow. At that time Serhad was there. Among the rocks and trees of this place, we were contemplating the mountains and singing together, and during the fog, we wandered far. During those broad, full, and breezy days, we would wait for the night to come.

Now, I will talk about his ending story:

With the start of spring, we started our march. The march was to bring down a border and a country. There, we would have always stayed in the march and in Kurdistan. Serhad was unaware, but he had talent that he could not articulate. In those dark days, where Ammar had stopped under gallows, and staying safe was depressing. Anything could not be handled brought shame and disgrace. Nobody had any time to talk about anything.

Now we were passing through the Mountains between Wan and Urmiye. From there, we passed through Wan and Colemerg. The journey went on for many months. Every place we arrived, Serhad would sing for the Peshmerges. He was a good poet, and his deep voice would sound even better on those mountains.

In the beginning of July, we were in the summer sojourn of Ferashin. Ferashin is located in the triangle of Bashkal - Calak and Shemzinan. The only other high mountain between the villages of Ferashin and Kato Jirkan is the peak of Mount Serhesin. On the peak of Serhesin there is an iron pole, and on the other peaks of Serhesin they resemble pyramids of Egypt. If you leave the summer sojourn of Ferashin from the east, you will reach Serhesin. Three hours west of Ferhashin, however, there is a high and sharp mountain surrounding you. Anyone desires to go to Kato Jirkan, they have to pass a mountain named Mount Nismo. Under Mount Nismo locates Lake Nismo, home to hundreds of wild ducks, where many Peshmerges are also attached to it. Serhad and I witnessed a nice paint, which depicted a commander sitting on the edge of Lake Nismo while resting his back to Mount Nismo and giving lessons to Peshmerges. The Peshmerges have righteous lessons in front of this lake.

Our cameraman Xelil Dag, Serhad, and I spent the night of July 11 crossing from Ferashin to Kato Jirkan. We were led by Sadiq. In the plateau of Mount Serhesin, in the small and narrow valleys of Kuna Hirce, Serhed ate his last meal with us; Salyangoz Soup. Serhad and I cooked and eventually cleaned. Our leader Sadiq said, “who ever does not eat in these small things,” has to eat in the pan. Some meters away from us, for the first time we witnessed a real village of Sparrow. They had created nests from sticks, which was home to hundreds of Sparrow. I saw Serhed watching the wild Sparrow for hours, and the Sparrow never got bored looking back at us.

In the wake of the afternoon, shadow came down from the sunset, and we started moving from Sparrow village. By the time we arrived at Serhesin, the sun had already set.

As always, Serhad listened to the music of the movie Titanic:

“Every night in my dreams I see you, I feel you
That is how I know you go on.
Far across the distance and spaces between us
You have come to show you go on.
Near, far, wherever you are?”

My fear started then, while the snow had not melted, an eagle told us to continue on going. Xelil and Sadiq wanted us to finish our night near Lake Nismo and break our day with its great view. I, however, wanted to pay a visit but on our way back to Lake Nismo and continue our way until we reach Kato Jirkan or at least cross to southern Masiro. I argued with Xelil about my option, and Serhad agreed with my opinion. Although I had no desire, but Serhad did, that night our destiny kept us for two hours on top of Serhesin.

That night, the Turkish forces were out for operations, but we were not aware of them. In July 12, at about 4:00 a.m., Sadiq went down a little for a regular check. By then we had awaken Serhad. “I had four interesting dreams,” Serhad said. “In the first one, my mom was here and we were talking.” He continued talking about his other dreams, which I fail to remember now. At about 4:20 a.m., Sadiq was running toward us and said that the Turkish soldiers are coming toward us. They are down the cliff and are getting closer to us. I moved to get my bag and weapons and we ran. Just under where we stayed was a body of water. I was running in front and Xelil was running after me. Just two minutes later we looked behind us, but Serhad was nowhere to be seen. Sadiq turned around and we stayed at our place. Then we saw Serhad again, with a slow pace he was coming down the valley. His bag was on his back, his weapons on his arms, and in his leather bag was his Tembur.

Then after five minutes, we went downward a little in our right side was Mount Mamemus. We were now in the beginning of Masiro, a body of water that is located in the Besta region. Till we arrived there, Sadiq had already turned back three times so that Serhad would reach us. From the right was Mamemus cliff, we turned back to move opposite to where the water was moving. At that time we were going against Turkish Soldiers, who were trying to take us down Masiro cliff. After about twenty steps, we realized the heaviness of our bags, and we decided to hide them under the grass; only Xelil did not leave his bag because he had a small T.V set in it. At about 4:30 a.m. we saw two soldiers coming toward us and they saw us. Then around 4:35 a.m., they separated themselves from us; just then they threw themselves into a ditch and started shooting at us. At the beginning there was a distance of about 50 meters between us. To get to the side of Mamemus we had to go through a plane distance. Hundreds of soldiers with different kinds of weapons were shooting at us, and then too we had to pass a plain distance. The only thing we could do was to make ditches for them.

Our leader Sadiq said: “Don’t stop.” With all the things going through my mind, I looked to see Serhad another time. He looked confused, and he looked as if he was standing still and not moving ahead. When I passed that place, it seemed that I had went over a large convex of millet. The only place behind which we could hide was a rock to protect ourselves. Thousands of bullets were passing over us. I did anything I could do, but I had to think about everything before I do it. After I crossed, Xelil and Sadiq also crossed that plain area. I turned and looked, I saw them both and they were safe. Serhad however was nowhere to be seen. He was left there, and had not passed that plain distance. At that time of the shooting no one could think that we would be able to survive.

In between one and a half hour, under thousands of shots and bullets, there was not even one place for us to protect ourselves. We arrived at the top of east Mamemus. With a difference of only hundred meters we were able to reach the morning.

One and half hour that we spent under all kinds of fire seemed like a lifetime. When we were going down Mamemus, it was the Alan valley, which was under the control of soldiers. We looked at our weapons and we sat down and stopped, we said that Serhad must have been martyred near the edge of the water, near Namiso Lake in Evina. The soldiers knew our location, but they didn’t follow us until the later evening.

Serhad had fallen unconscious in that 12th day of July. Later we learned from “Viliage Guards” that Serhad was captured alive. A youth from Jirkan Tribe had captured him. Later when the soldiers recognized him, they had hit him in his jaws. Then they had taken him to Colemerg, in the second operations they had brought him back to the mountains. Fifteen hours east of where he was captured, on Mount Eraban near Mountain Ferashin, he was murdered. Months after, the Peshmerges found his body, his hands were still handcuffed.

Maybe Serhad was captured but he had not surrendered. This could have been the reason behind his death.

This was Serhad’s last story. His march however is still continues…