Tags / Minority
The largest community of the smallest Christian minority in Turkey has felt neglected for decades and is now facing an uncertain future. The recent visit of Pope Francis to Turkey reinforced anxieties within Izmir's catholic community as he was the first Pope not to visit the tiny but important diocese. Although he had announced his wish to visit the House of Mary in Ephesus, like his predecessors, security problems at the remote shrine made it impossible. Catholics in Izmir are well aware of security problems, but nonetheless they bitterly feel that they are the collateral victims of sectarian tensions in the region.
The history of Christianity in Turkey is almost as old as the Church itself. St. Paul was a native of Anatolia and preached in Ephesus and Miletus. Jesus’ favorite apostle, St. John, the Evangelist who wrote the Apocalypse, is said to have moved to Ephesus with the Virgin Mary. The Apostle’s tomb is near the Ephesus archaeological site and an enormous basilica was built on it. It is ironic that the most vocal opponents of Turkey’s accession to European Union used the “Christian roots” of Europe as an argument against it; the roots of christianity are all in Turkey. It was in Ephesus that the Third Ecumenical Council, the famous “Theotokos Council”, confirmed the Nicene Creed on which the Roman Catholic doctrine is still based, and which declared the Virgin Mary “Mother of God”. Despite this rich history, it is ironic that such Christian roots are usually overlooked in Turkey.
It is commonly said that Turks are 99% Sunni Muslim, and it is true that Turkey’s religious policy take it as a fact. While Orthodox, Armenian and Chaldean Christians are recognized as indigenous religious minorities, the Latin Catholic Christians are not. There are about 35,000 Catholics in Turkey. Most of them are so-called “Levantines”, or descendants of French or Italian expatriates who settled in Ottoman Empire. Izmir, the ancient Smyrna, was their most important city, and it was the most cosmopolitan city in Turkey.
Izmir’s most popular Catholic Church is the Dominican Church of the Holy Rosary, in the traditionally Levantine district of Alsancak. Every Thursday Father Stefano Negro, the parish priest, holds mass for a meager audience of elders.
“It was very different, when the Church was built in 1904,” tells the Dominican friar, a keen historian of his adopted city. “The Church was crowded and rich, because the parishioners considered it a symbol of their identity.
The Great Fire of Smyrna, in 1922, changed everything, along with the birth of the Turkish Republic. However, the turning point was in 1934, when foreigners were not allowed to work anymore in Turkey.” The skilled workers and entrepreneurs who had helped to make Izmir the economic capital of the Ottoman Empire emigrated, and the Catholic flock of Izmir began to dwindle.
The remaining Levantines are descendants of Italian or French families, and all of them feel uncomfortable in the “New Turkey” of President Erdogan. In the traditionally secular republic there was room for many minorities, but the Islamist rhetoric of the current ruling party is underscoring more and more the Sunni Muslim character of the Turkish State.
“This is not my church,” a lady in her 60's whispers before Father Stefano’s mass. “I was born in Karsiyaka, and I went to St. Helen’s Church. It was always open, and on St. Helen’s Day we could bring our cross in procession in the streets and everybody in the neighborhood celebrated with us. Now it’s impossible [and] we keep a low profile, should we irk religious zealots that are increasingly sensitive...”
Another lady, also in her 60s, comments bitterly that “Turkey is going back in time”. However, the others disagree staunchly. “It’s not true, it was never like this! This is something new, especially in Izmir, and it’s not, like some say, because of immigration from the East”.”Truth is,” the first woman comments “that Turks are angry at Europe. They are angry because they feel rejected. They see Islamophobia rising in the same Europe that keeps closing its doors as a Christian club. So they [Turks turn to their religious identity and don’t like us anymore.” The lady, who asks not to be mentioned by name, was born in Izmir, in the elegant Karsiyaka district. When she got married she move to Italy, where she lives with her children and grandchildren. Despite this, she keeps coming to her “hometown”, as she calls it, for several months a year. “But every time it’s more difficult” she laments.
Father Stefano, who came to Turkey in 1976, mostly agrees with the lady. When the military junta ruling the country after the 1980 coup started a fiercely nationalistic policy, the Catholic clergy was seriously worried they would be expelled. To be able to stay, Father Stefano managed to acquire the Turkish citizenship. “But I often have problems," he explains. "Now, every time the police check my ID, they argue about my religion indicated on it. ‘If you are really a Turk, how come that you are not a Sunni Muslim?’”
Things have worsened under Erdogan, with his religious and nationalist rhetoric centered on the Sunni identity of the country. Father Stefano, a witty friar with a sharp humor, turns sad when he talks about the size of his flock. “I can see them dwindle from the number of funerals I celebrate. It’s clear in the mass, where worshipers are all with white hair. There are weddings, sure, but most of them are mixed ones, and children have to be educated in public schools, where religion classes are mandatory, and of course we talk of Sunni religion [in the religious classes].” There are some newcomers to the church, most of whom are Catholic families of NATO military base personnel or technicians working in Izmir.
If the mass is attended by white haired, depressed worshipers, the atmosphere is completely different at the Italian school of Alsancak. Alsancak is an international elementary school and Turkish private kindergarten, managed by Italian nuns and secular teachers, both Italian and Turkish. Sister Roberta also has grey hair, well visible since religious dress is banned in schools, but she has the energy and high spirit of an elite soldier. “We don’t care of habits, we don’t need habits. We are the habits, we are nuns, even when we don’t dress as such” she proudly declares.
The kindergarten children are a merry mixed bunch, from Turkish, Italian, Spanish or American families. They are taught Italian language, but the education is strictly secular. However, Turkish citizens, even those with dual citizenship, cannot attend the elementary school. Only foreign children can continue their education in the nuns’ school and many families resent this. Sister Roberta shows a gift from a local tycoon, a container shipping business magnate, who says to own his success to the education he got at the Catholic nuns’ school.
Sister Roberta cameto Turkey in 1976, like Father Stefano, and she has seen hard times too. Despite various hardships she claims that nuns are highly respected for the education they give in the school, which in better times also hosted orphans and poor children. “We have always been here, since 1887, and we will stay.” After the 1922 fire, when all the foreign nationals had been evacuated on western warships, the youngest nun of the school volunteered to go back, soon followed by others, who kept the catholic presence in Izmir alive. However, Sister Roberta is bitterly disappointed that the Pope didn't come. “Of course we understand the security reasons, and God knows these are hard times. But it’s a bad omen, when it is too dangerous for the Catholic Pope to visit Izmir and the House of Mary in Ephesus.”
Many share her disappointment, and some are in disbelief. On the hill near Ephesus, where the House of Mary attracts pilgrims and tourists, a little crowd are waiting, in vain, for a surprise. “We hoped to see Pope Francis. He’s famous to change program at the last moment, maybe he will come here too. Why he didn't come? We don’t understand!” says the mother of a young boy who is busy lighting candles for the Virgin. They are from Izmir, but they are not Catholic: “We are Turks, we are Muslims and we are proud to be both.” she smiles “But of course we love Meryem Ana, Mother Mary!”
Maybe the dwindling Catholic community in Izmir and the cherished “Christian roots” of Europe could be the key to unlock both Turkey’s accession to Europe and the future of all its minorities.
Religious tourists among the ruins of the Saint Mary Church, in the archaeological site of Ephesus. This church was the place where the Third Ecumenical Council proclaimed the Virgin Mary “Mother of God”, in AD 431. The Virgin Mary is said to have moved to Ephesus with John the Evangelist, after her son’s crucifixion.
The “Meryem Ana Evi”, “House of Mother Mary”, on a hill near the ancient city of Ephesus. The place was visited by Pope Paul VI in 1967, by Pope John Paul II in 1979 and by Pope Benedict XVI, but security concerns forced Pope Francis to break the tradition, for the Izmir Catholics’ dismay.
A silver statuette of the Virgin near the “Meryem Ana Evi”, the “House of Mother Mary”, with the prayer to the Virgin by Saint Francis of Assisi. Respected in all theIslamic world for being the mother of Prophet Isa (known as Jesus to Christians), “Mother Mary” is especially revered in Turkey, where motherhood is highly respected.
A Turkish Muslim family lights candles outside of the “Meryem Ana Evi”, the “House of the Virgin Mary” in Ephesus. Like many others, they had come to the holy site hoping to see the Pope, despite the fact he had cancelled his trip to Izmir. Pope Francis is known to randomly change plans and this family was hoping for a surprise change of program.
A pilgrim prays on the tomb of the Apostle John, the Evangelist who wrote the Book of Revelation, also known as Apocalypse. The tomb was at the center of the enormous basilica dedicated to St. John. The Church of Ephesus was one of the “Seven Churches of Asia” mentioned in the Apocalypse. However, after the city was destroyed by an earthquake, it declined in favor of the Church of Izmir, the last survivor of the Seven.
A group of religious tourists observes an inscription in memory of the visit of Pope Paul VI, in 1967, among the ruins of St. John’s Basilica in Ephesus, about 100 km from Izmir. Though Izmir Catholics are well aware of security problems, especially with the current turmoil on Turkish borders, they show bitter disappointment for the cancellation of the Papal visit, feeling once more neglected by the rest of the Christian world.
The Saint Helen Church lies in the Karsiyaka neighborhood of Izmir.
A Levantine lady, who moved to Italy, but spends several months every year in her father's house in Karsiyaka, remembers that when she was a kid, the cross was carried in a public procession in the neighborhood and it was celebrated and respected by everybody, regardless of their religion. "But today it would be impossible," she laments. "Turks are angry at Europe, because they feel rejected and betrayed. And we, as Levantine citizens of European countries, do not feel supported by our governments."
A flight of starlings over the St. John’s Cathedral in Izmir. The Church was built in 1863, thanks to a donation of 11,000 gold Turkish lira by then Sultan Abdulaziz. However, nowadays’s Turkish politicians have sent contradictory signals: while the government has promised that Christian students would have their own religion classes, a Minister claimed that “Christianity is no longer a religion, but a culture.”
Two Catholic women pray at the Virgin Mary altar in Izmir’s St. John’s Cathedral. The women have their head covered while in the Church, as per the Levantine tradition. Though the Cathedral is dedicated to the Apostle St. John the Evangelist, buried in nearby Ephesus, devotion for the Virgin Mary is very popular, even among Muslims.
The words “God loved the World so much to give his only son so that none who believes in him would come to any harm” are inscribed, in Turkish, on the left side in the interior of the Izmir Cathedral.
Dedication of a stained glass window in Izmir Cathedral, offered by a French parishioner. Izmir Catholic community is the largest in Turkey, and the Cathedral is the seat of the only archdiocese of Turkey, covering all the south western Anatolian provinces. The current Archbishop, Ruggero Franceschini, was previously Vicar in Antakya. His successor, Msgr. Luigi Padovese, was slain and beheaded by his Turkish driver, apparently a deranged man, who some said was a religious fanatic.
The Holy Rosary Church in Alsancak was built in 1904 and was the only church that survived the Great Fire of 1922. After the fire, the church became a main communal center for Levantine Christians in Izmir.
Miss Caterina Ventura, the oldest member of Izmir's Catholic community, lights a candle at the Holy Lance altar, in the Church of Holy Rosary. Miss Ventura, born in 1921, was nine months old when her family fled to Italy, after the town was destroyed by the Great Fire at the end of Turkish War of Independence. Her family, of Italian and Greek ancestry, returned to Izmir after the new Turkish Republic was established.
Prayers for the deceased can be read in Italian, French and Turkish, the languages spoken by Catholic worshipers in Izmir. In the second half of 19th century, foreign entrepreneurs and skilled workers formed a community of western citizens who made Izmir the gate to Anatolia. The Aegean city soon became soon the economic capital of the Ottoman Empire and foreigners born there, calling themselves Levantines, were able to build churches and practice their religion.
A small number of worshipers attend a mass at the Holy Rosary Chruch in Izmir. Father Stefano Negro, the parish priest and keen historian of Izmir, says that he mostly holds funerals at the church. The few weddings he celebrates are almost always mixed, involving a non-Christian bride or groom.
Father Stefano offers communion to worshipers at the Holy Rosay Church in Izmir. While most of the churchgoers are Levantines, others are foreigners who work at at the local NATO base. Father Stefano arrived to Izmir in 1976 during the worst political violence in Turkey, which lead to a military coup in 1980. He obtained Turkish citizenship after the coup to be able to stay in the country.
Today, he often argues with the police when he shows them his ID; Turkish identity cards report the religion and he is indicated as Catholic. Some policemen wonder how he could he be a Turkish citizen if he is not a Sunni Muslim.
The relic of the Holy Lance, believed to date from the first century CE, is preserved at the Holy Rosary Church in Izmir. This spear is believed to have been used to stab Jesus Christ while on the cross. During the Great Fire of Smyrna in 1922, over 5,000 people took refuge in this small church. When the friars returned, they found that the silver reliquary had been pillaged, but the priceless Lance was still there.
Sister Roberta, one of the nuns who teach at the Italian School in Izmir, receives flowers by alumni of her school who are paying her an unexpected visit. The Italian School is managed by the order of Sisters of Charity of the Immaculate Conception of Ivrea. Students, however, mostly Muslim Turks, receive a strictly secular education.
Sister Roberta helps a student during a drawing class. Due to a law banning religious clothing in schools, the nuns cannot wear Christian outfits.
"People recognize us as nuns in the streets, because even if we don't dress as nuns, we behave as nuns!" Sister Roberta proudly says. She also says the nuns never received threats or faced problems; on the contrary, they are extremely respected for the way they do their job.
An old statuette of the Virgin Mary is placed at the Holy Rosary Church. The church was built in Izmir by the Dominican Friars in 1904, when the promulgation of the Rosary by Pope Leo XIII and the devotion to the Immaculate Conception were at widely embraced, after the sensation caused by the apparitions at Lourdes.
A stained glass window at the Holy Rosary Church in Izmir depicts Pope Pius X, later Saint Pius X, elected in 1903, just one year before the church was built. The shadow of the grate protecting the window from vandalism can be seen in this photo. Society in Izmir is known for tolerance towards minorities, but in the past few years there have been increasing fears that Christians could be the target of attacks by extremists.
It is night and the lights go out, the signal that announces the imminent beginning. In the courtyard, crowded with people, only silhouettes are distinguishable. The atmosphere is charged, but silence reigns. Almost everyone remains motionless except a newcomer trying to find friends in the crowd. Suddenly, a blinding light, followed by cries here, another there, and another... The fire has begun. The drums sound.
The Correfoc, or “fire run,” finds its origins in the “devil dances” of twelfth century Catalonia. The very first one took place at the wedding of Barcelona’s Count, Ramon Berenguer IV. These “devil dances” were performed by actors dressed like demons between meals during noble banquets in the Middle Ages. The dance represented the fight between good and evil.
People start running without a direction in mind. They are running away from the fire, pushing, pulling, eventually becoming attracted by that mysterious magnetism that has always existed between man and the pyrrhic element. At once, men dressed as devils carrying flares mix in the crowd. They light flares and begin to lash out at anything that moves. The sound of firecrackers and the hiss of sparks flying mix with the din of voices. Drums set the rhythm for the fire procession.
The relative security offered by the open space of the square gives way to narrow alleys where devils and spectators huddle. The bravest hug and jump at the fire porters while the majority, fearful, just keep looking for a way to stay ahead of the flames. It is a frenetic tour through the old town, down narrow streets and through open squares, where troupes of devils dance and throw flames and sparks in all directions. At the end of the route, in a larger square, a great fire festival awaits the crowd. Large flares jump skyward while intrepid jugglers delight the audience with a host of tricks, spitting fire like authentic demons until the last flame is extinguished and silence falls on Gerona.
Correfocs were once popular at different celebrations all around Catalonia. The first modern incarnation of the fire parade,however, took place in 1979 at Barcelona’s festival. This represented a comeback for the custom after many popular traditions were lost during the Franco dictatorship. Today, the Correfoc, like other traditional Catalan customs, is a way to preserve Catalonia’s cultural identity.
For the Iraqi woman who finds herself with dependent children and without a male figure at her side, security becomes a constant worry in addition to the emotional and psychological destruction visited on them by the Islamic State. Keeping in touch with friends and relatives helps distract them and maintain a sense of community.
The living conditions of minorities persecuted by the advance of Islamic State militants can be read on the faces of refugees no matter their age. Despite this extreme hardship, the hope that their children will be able to build a better future keeps them going.
Forced migration is in some cases synonymous with survival. These women were found after escaping from an armed group. Young and old, none of them are safe, they say.
In this makeshift refuge, the little ones spend most of their hours stretched out on the floor in the corridors or in empty classrooms of the school.
Aid from local associations has not been enough to support the Shabak community living in Rovia's mosque. A woman needs to move for the night between the cars parked outside.
Recognized as an ethnic minority in 1952, the Shabak are now on the run from the militias of the Islamic State. They have already experienced persecution in the past, notably by the regime of Saddam Hussein. 70 families of them take refuge in this mosque from their latest threat.
A Shabak man is sick, lying on a rug while a woman tends to him, as the public hospital can only be reached in the morning. During the day, temperatures reach around 45 degrees.
An elderly woman prepares to cook dinner, shielding the fire with wooden panels. Inside the mosque there is no pavement, making hygiene a challenge.
In the tiny village of Rovia a few miles from Mosul, a city currently under control of the Islamic State, the Shabak community has found refuge in a mosque under construction. Inside the community, the proportion of children to adults is very high. The adults hope to spare their children from the psychological trauma of war.
The temple Lalish is situated to the north of Mosul. It is a place of pilgrimage and an important sanctuary for Yazidis. After IS captured Bashiqua and other nearby villages, many people have sought refuge at the temple monitored by Peshmerga fighters who control the entire district of Sherkan. The Yazidi community has opened its doors to refugees allowing them to settle down within the sacred place, aided by NGOs providing tents and relief supplies.
Shabak women are preparing for the evening meal in a mosque along the road that leads to Mosul. With only moonlight available, people who sleep outside must cook, eat, and wash quickly.
Burma - In the volatile Arakan State, thousands Muslim Rohingyas have been displaced since two years, following deadly violences.
Tensions could rise again as the authorities started a controversial nationwide census in march 2014, a census laying into the hands of extremist Buddhist nationalists.
Nationalists have long considered Muslim as a significant threat to the dominant Buddhist faith due to their increasing population. Although it’s widely believed Muslims represent about 4% of the population, the number may be much higher, as no census had been made since 1983. Also critics have accused the government of lowering the number.
Other minorities have also deeply criticized the government census, which is running from March 30th to April the 10th. They claim it will lump them into categories and carve them into sub-tribes based on villages.
Myanmar is a multi-ethnic country. But its rulers have an history of dividing the minorities to ensure its stability. In the past both Muslims and Chinese populations were named as scape goats to curb growing resistance against the country’s rulers.
Last year, State authorities started a household survey reportedly only aimed at the Rohingya population. But the Rohingya participants were allegedly forced by the border police to illegally enter Bangladesh, making them illegal immigrants in Bangladesh. The survey led to several violent confrontations and deaths after the police had opened fire on the angry crowd.
The Rohingyas are nearly a million in the State of Arakan. Several more millions are now refugees in Bangladesh, India and other countries in South Asia. In Burma they have been stripped and denied their citizenship by the 1984 citizenship law.
After the recent violences the Rohingyas were locked up in squalid camps and saw their movements restricted. They have received barely support.
Crimean Tatars fear persecution under Russian authority
As Tatars in Crimea seek to preserve their way of life - their language, cultural and religious practices, and political organizations - under Russian authority, a crackdown on voices of dissent from within their community and on Tatar leadership doesn’t seem to be letting up.
On October 6, another young man, 25-year-old Edam Asanov of Bilogorsk was found dead after disappearing on September 29 while protesting the kidnapping of two young men from the community just days earlier. This is the latest in a string of kidnappings, raids and arrests that have shook the Crimean Tatar community in recent months.
Since the first Russian incursions into Ukraine’s Crimea region in February, ethnic Tatars have feared a return to the kinds of persecution and mistreatment the Muslim minority has historically suffered under Russian administration. Events since then seem to highlight the precariousness of their situation.
Days before Russia’s annexation of Crimea, on March 18 hundreds of members of the Tatar community gathered in a cemetery in Simferopol to pay their respects to Reshat Ametov, a 39-year-old found dead after having been missing for over two weeks. According to the local Tatar television channel ATR, police found the tortured body of the activist in a forest outside the Crimean capital. Investigators presumed he was killed by pro-Russian militiamen after he was seen crossing a line of pro-Russian protesters in military fatigues at a protest earlier in the month. The death came as a great blow to the Muslim Tatar community for whom persecution, deportation and violence remain vivid memories.
After the funeral, Remzie Dzhemilev, 87, gathered his family and recounted their history. Like the majority of Crimean Tatars, the Dzhemilevs were deported to Uzbekistan in 1944, a seemingly endless journey by wagon during which six of his family members died. The survivors returned to the Crimea in 1990 after the fall of the former USSR, and have remained there since. Mainly opposed to Russia, today he says that the community tries to preserve their traditions and culture, from language and religion to flags and national symbols, despite increasing fears that renewed Russian control of the Crimea will revisit suffering upon the Muslim minority.
Originating in the great steppes of Central Asia, the Turkic-speaking Tatars were one of the main ethnic groups of Crimea leading up to World War II. Their historical influence on the region is visible in Simferopol’s art and architecture and in their specific relationship to the land. Up until the 18th century, the Crimean Khanate was among the most powerful Muslim states in Central Europe.
Today, Tatars account for just over 10% of the population in this region of south-eastern Ukraine, in particular due to waves of deportations driven by Stalin in 1944. Called the “Sürgünlük” in Crimean Tatar dialect, these deportations led to the relocation of nearly 240,000 Tatars. Those who escaped deportation were often shot on sight, had their boats sunk, or died of cold and hunger trying to flee. Many were also deported to Soviet GULAGs where they would work as indentured servants.
Today, a delicate political situation has ethnic Russians in Crimea rejoicing over their annexation while historically marginalized Muslim Tatars and their organizations feel they have become the targets of a new brand of authoritarian rule from Russia and violence from militant pro-Russian activists. In April and July, the chairman of the Crimean Tatar People’s Movement Mustafa Dzhemilev and Simferopol’s Tatar leader Refat Chubarov were banned from re-entering Crimea for five years. Later, in May, Crimean authorities banned public protests and closed central Simferopol to prevent Tatars from commemorating the deportation.
More recently in September armed, masked men raided the Majlis, the Tatar’s self-governing council in Simferopol, removing a weapon, hard drives and “extremist literature,” according to the Russian Foreign Ministry. Mr. Dzhemilev told the UK daily The Telegraph that he equated this to a robbery.
"The Crimean Tatar nation is now in a most complicated and dangerous position since it has always spoken out against the illegal occupation [of Crimea by Russia]," Dzhemilev said.
Dzhemilev’s son was detained by Russian authorities on murder and weapons charges that he says were acquitted by a Ukrainian court. In a press conference on October 4, he told reporters that his son’s arrest by Russians was “blackmail by Putin.” “The Russians continue to play it in a heavy-handed, Soviet and blatant way,” he said.
Kidnappings, arrests and raids now amount to what Tatar leaders consider an officially sanctioned campaign of harassment and intimidation. On September 27, two more young Tatar men were kidnapped while walking down the street in their native Belogorsk. Witnesses saw a white van pull up next to the men, and throw them inside. 18-year-old Islyam Dzheparov and 23-year-old Dzhebdet Islyamov have not been seen or heard from since then, according to an October 3 report by Radio Free Europe.
"I think it is outrageous, completely outrageous,” Mustafa Asaba, the head of the regional Crimean Tatar Mejlis in Belogorsk, told RFE. “If there were some questions for these young people or anything like that, there are official organs, the police. They could have been summoned for questioning."
Russian authorities in Crimea launched an investigation into the disappearances. However, Tatars in Belogorsk feel that they are being driven into a corner based only on their ethnicity and religion.
"This is an attack on Crimean Tatars," one activist told a gathering of over a hundred locals who came together to pray for the men and protest the disappearances. "Our only guilt is that we are Crimean Tatars, Muslims. I don't see any other motives here.”
Council of Europe Human Rights Commissioner Nils Muiznieks brought up the issues facing the Tatars at a meeting of the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe (PACE) on October 1.
"My biggest concern, to be honest, is the situation of the Crimean Tatars -- a population with a very tragic history," Muiznieks said. "There is an urgent need to strengthen their sense of security, which has been shattered by a series of raids by armed, masked security personnel in religious institutions, schools, Tatar-owned businesses, private homes, and, after my visit, to the Mejlis. The Crimean Tatars have no history of violence or extremism, and the raids are completely disproportionate and should be stopped.”
-- Joe Lukawski with reporting by Rafael Yaghobzadeh for Transterra Media
A local in front of his houses and with the view of the valley behind him . Palangan, Iran. It is mostly old people and young children left in the villages due to lack of work and education opportunities. Some young people has joined the fight in Iraq, assisting their Kurdish brothers in Iraq.
Palanagan seen from the hills, build high up the side of the mountain . Houses in the village are built in a steep gorge which allows for the rooftop of one house to serve as the yard for the house above.Life hasn't changed for centuries as the government in Tehran doesnt interferior but unfortunately for the people doesnt assist them either, keeping them in high levels of poverty. Palangan, Iran.
Kurdish man on his way to look after the goats for the day. Before World War I, traditional Kurdish life was nomadic, revolving around sheep and goat herding throughout the Mesopotamian plains and highlands of Turkey and Iran. This continues in the rural area of the Kurdish area of Iran. Palangan, Iran.
Men wearing western leather jackets with the women wearing traditional Kurdish clothes. The modern and traditional are meeting in the mountains of Iran. Men are more likely to leave the village, looking for job or education. Some has also joined the figthing in Iraq. Palangan, Iran.