A young Kurdish woman discovers a commitment to liberation, both personal and collective, through a harrowing journey in Rojava with armed freedom fighters. Jînçin is a young professor living in Berlin, born to a Yezedi father who years earlier was shunned and exiled for marrying outside his community, but who late in life makes the surprising decision to return to his homeland to defend his people and join the Kurdish People's Defense Units (YPG) in their fight against the Islamic State. Searching for an understanding of why the father she adored would give his life for such a cause, the young woman journeys to the remote mountains of northeastern Syria, into the autonomous Kurdish region of Rojava, to join the freedom struggle. With little training and without warning, she immediately confronts the extremist threat that faces the Kurds, from bloody skirmishes with ISIS to drone strikes and the clandestine operations and brutal human rights abuses of the Turkish military. Her new life as a guerrilla is a bitter and arduous one, defined by party discipline and sustained only by the most basic meals, river water, and the rare goods that can be smuggled into the mountains. At first, Jînçin finds such an austere existence intolerable and resolves to flee from the seemingly doomed experiment in Kurdish autonomy. As she contemplates abandoning the new comrades she begins to realize the hidden complexity of the society in formation around her, full of philosophizing, humor, and affection. She gains profound insights into her own history and heritage, the struggles that Kurds and particularly the Yezidis face, as well as the richness of life in a gender-liberated society, and the practice of democracy in an autonomous society. Transformed in the heat of battle and by the demands of living and fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with her comrades, the illusions that unwittingly restrain Westerners’ freedoms and their comprehension of the world around them fall away. Over months of mournful, intimate, and often-times playful conversations, as well as narrow escapes from grave danger, Jînçin finally grasps her place and her purpose in the world. She and her comrades grow to gain a mutual sense of understanding and solidarity that permits them, in spite of the odds stacked against them, to achieve remarkable acts of resistance against the forces of domination that seek to destroy their life, dignity, and freedom. Ultimately, Rojava is the story of people from the same social stratum who have decided, regardless of the present world order, to build a society free from any discrimination, based on the dignity and autonomy of individuals with religious, ethnic, ideological, and gender differences.
I've been loosely following the path of the Kurdish resistance since I started paying attention to the Syrian Civil War back in like. 2016 or something, and I've read PKK idealogue Abdullah Öcalan and liked what he had to say, so when I see fiction that takes place in the region I get really excited. I liked this book a lot more once I accepted that it was mainly a series of vignettes. Even in Jînçin's story it doesn't really have a plot, it's more a series of events that take place over her time in Kurdistan. The book is at its best when the characters are doing something utterly mundane, like digging a latrine or hiding from a drone. These sections do a really good job of capturing the life of a Kurdish guerilla, and the author does a good job of giving each guerilla a distinct personality in these parts. My biggest criticism of the book is that it seems to want to critique PKK policy and actions in a productive way, but it never quite manages to say anything meaningful about them. If you're already interested in the Kurdish insurrection, this book may be of interest to you, but if you don't know a good bit about the conflict already it may be a bit hard to understand.
A young German born woman whose Kurdish father dies in the fight for freedom and self-determination chooses to embed with fighters in Rojava.
It is a hard life but it is gratifying despite the constant reminder that this region and its inhabitants are pawns in a proxy war, with multiple (national) players including "my" country of Germany committing or condoning/aiding war crimes.
The symbolism of Rojava in the larger context of world events appeals to me, I try to read whatever I can about it, and if I were not 55 years old, slightly overweight, did not have child/wife/elderly father? I would probably go out there and support a vision of self-governing inclusive communities.
The novel does not romanticize the life in hiding in the mountains under constant bombardment and suspicion of locals but it also does not shy away from describing the (forced) minimalist existence as a returning to essentials which includes renewed appreciation of nature: snow, water, animals.
More importantly it conveys the reward of cameraderie that each participant in this movement cherishes.
What can I - the keyboard "warrior" who won't venture out into any mountain, be it the Alps in Lederhosn or somewhere in Syria/Iran/Turkey - take away from the sentiment of this text?
Well, it is straight forward: everyone of us needs to resist warmongering and the destruction of community in the name of capitalism and national borders. Everyone of us must converse with people other than ourselves, call out bigotry and patriarchy, solidarize (is that a verb?) with others who we do not know but who we know need help, we have to do this every day in small ways, whatever is possible.
And IRL spoiler alert (coz we do not live in a novel): putting on a suit and a tie does not cleanse you from decades of leading a murderous bunch that terrorizes regular normal hardworking people.
Too obscure a reference? I think not!
I am stating the obvious, to you perhaps, but legacy media around the world does not seem to see it that way as former ISIS peeps are hosted in posh settings while the fighters in Rojava, men and women, eat lentils every day and protect a dream that is so important for humanity to move forward!