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It was regrettably time to leave
Kurdistan. I woke up early as usual, had simple
traditional breakfast and finished packing. My
driver called from to say that he had arrived, and a
friend from the KDP newspaper Xebat called a few
minutes later to say that he had a gift for me and
wanted to say goodbye.
After some jokes and a few pictures, as well as many
farewells to those who had been my neighbors for the
last few weeks, my driver and I headed to Ainkawa,
the Christian part of Hewler, where I had been just
two days previous to enjoy some drinks with a
friend. After driving through the more lively parts
of the town, we set out for the new Hawler
International Airport (HIA), a small airport in the
middle of a flat, undeveloped area of Ainkawa. After
passing a security checkpoint and making a turn, I
saw the airport on the distance – a small,
nondescript building flying a Kurdistan flag with a
small parking lot in front of it. I snapped a
photograph as we approached, as I was sure that,
given the heavy security, pictures would no longer
be allowed when I neared the building. Fortunately,
I was later proven wrong as the serious but
courteous airport staff allowed me to take as many
pictures as I wanted outside of the main building.
The building itself says, “Hawler International
Airport” in large letters and the signs on the
entrance that stated “No Pets Allowed”, “No
Smoking”, and “No Weapon” provided me with a few
appropriate warnings. As my passport and travel
documents were checked, I noticed that each employee
of this airport was wearing an ID that featured the
employee’s picture taken in front of a Kurdistan
flag. How nice it was to be in the world’s only
openly Kurdish airport! My bags were then
meticulously searched, and almost every item was
examined by hand. I then paid for my ticket and the
surcharge to cover my extra baggage, which including
a few carpets purchased in Amed (Diyarbakir), many
new books and music albums, and a framed picture of
Mellah Mustafa Barzani.
Looking at the passenger list, I noticed that I
would be the only American citizen on board. All
passengers on this trip were Kurds who were in some
way associated with the UN, with the exception of
one man who was a British citizen. The Kurds with
the UN group were older and seemed to know one
another. Most of them were relatives, some were
traveling with children, and at least a few of them
had been born in Iran. All of the passengers
loitered in the waiting area, which featured a small
bar serving tea, coffee, and soda. Below the list of
available refreshments there was a helpful sign
featuring a humorous misspelling: “We like to inform
our passengers that they can exchange money from US
Dollars ($) to Iraqi Dinners (ID) and vice versa.”
The disheveled British man, who clearly appeared to
have had done his share of travel and adventure, sat
reading a paperback book while I chatted with two
older men at the bar over a cup of tea.
When it was time to board, we got on a small bus and
were driven along the primitive runway to our plane,
a small jet with a narrow aisle and one seat on
either side of the aisle. There were less than 20
seats. I sat down across from the British man and
our pilots came stood up to speak to the passengers.
As one of the pilots welcomed everyone, one of the
women onboard said, “Speak Kurdish!” The South
African pilot could only manage an Arabic “salaam
aleikum” before apologizing for not knowing any
Kurdish. As he started talking about the flight
plans, I did a bit of real-time English to Kurdish
translation to the delight of many, especially those
who did not speak much English.
We took off from HIA using the spiral technique that
is used for all take-offs and landings inside Iraq’s
borders. In tilting sideways and spiraling up or
down, the plane manages to stay within secured
airport airspace while entering or leaving cruising
altitude, and also makes itself a more difficult
target for surface-to-air missiles. Just a moment
after leaving the runway, the plane tilted and began
to climb. While most on board were clearly not
enjoying themselves, the British man, who had worked
as a logistics coordinator for demining groups in a
laundry list of the world’s trouble spots, and I
were loving it. Soon I was able to see Hewler from
the air, picking out the main roads and the citadel.
I remember thinking about how lucky I was to see
this stunning view of Kurdistan from thousands of
feet above.
Moving south, the land became rocky and less scenic.
Here and there natural gas fires burned from the
tops of some oil reserves, breaking up the monotony
of the undeveloped land in certain portions of the
northern half of Iraq as we flew south from
Kurdistan into Arab-dominated territory. Soon a
large city materialized, with buildings and houses
as far as the eye could see. We were approaching
Baghdad!
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