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Suicide epidemic striking Kurdish women in
Iraqi Kurdistan
26.9.2007
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80
percent of the women brought in with burns had tried
to kill themselves and the number increased each
year.
September 26, 2007
Erbil-Hewler, Kurdistan region 'Iraq' --
Three weeks after she was burned, the petite
18-year-old lay in a hospital bed, her head, arms
and upper torso swathed in cotton. Her seared face
was daubed with ointment.
She looked at the ceiling and thought about her new
life. "I don't know about the future," she said,
still looking up. "It will be whatever Allah
brings." She refused to give her name.
A gas stove had exploded when she'd tried to light
it, she said.
Her nurses don't buy it. They recognize the pattern
of the burns and have seen hundreds of cases like
hers, many with variations on the same story. A
teenage girl with a young marriage, and "a cooking
accident." |
An 18-year-old Kurdish girl from Sulaimaniyah in
Kurdistan region in the burn unit of the city's
emergency hospital |
In many parts of the world, such accidents would be
attributed to "honor killings," the murders of young
women by family or spouses because they didn't work
hard enough, complained too much or dated the wrong
men. There are honor killings in Iraqi Kurdistan, as
well.
But health-care professionals and women's experts
stress that what they're seeing here is different: a
suicide epidemic in which Kurdistan's girls and
young women are setting themselves on fire.
Suicide by fire among girls and young women in the
region has been increasing sharply since 2004, said
hospital workers, regional health officials and
women's advocates.
The reasons may be manifold. Some experts blame an
economic boom that's lured traditional villagers
into cities with more modern values, resulting in
family strains. But because the victims include
lifelong city residents as well, a patriarchal
culture that gives little power to women may be a
bigger factor.
Kurdistan, a largely self-governing region of three
provinces in northern Iraq, doesn't have accurate
historical health data, but there were at least 360
female-burning suicides last year, said the region's
health minister, Zyran Osman Yones.
Some victims are as young as 12, but most range from
age 15 to 25. Nearly all choose fire as their
method. The typical method is dousing themselves
with kerosene and striking a match, often in a
locked shower room.
"It's the most painful way to die," Yones said. "I
don't know why they do it. In other cultures, they
may use pills or guns, but for Kurds, they burn
themselves. We even hear of cases among Kurds who
have immigrated to Europe."
Hundreds more have survived with horrible scars,
only to have their husbands and friends desert them
and parents hide them from the rest of the family
and visitors out of shame, said Mahabat Amin Monsour,
the director of the Women's Union of Kurdistan, the
largest women's advocacy group in the region.
Almost none admits a suicide attempt, partly because
suicide is forbidden for Muslims. But half a dozen
nurses and physical therapists interviewed at
Kurdistan's two major burn units, in the cities of
Erbil and Sulaimaniyah, said that about 80 percent
of the women brought in with burns had tried to kill
themselves and the number increased each year.
The rising number of cases, Yones said, coincides
with the economic boom triggered by the U.S.-led
ouster of Saddam Hussein in 2003. Saddam had been
the region's greatest enemy, periodically attacking
the Kurds and killing tens of thousands.
Now, strong security that's prevented much of the
terrorism that racks the rest of Iraq along with a
wave of construction and foreign investment have
made Kurdistan a Middle East success story.
In the cities, hundreds of new buildings are under
construction, the skylines dominated by scaffolding
and cranes. Porsche and Mercedes SUVs pick their way
through battered taxis in the anarchic traffic, and
residents choose between traditional market stalls
and gleaming shopping centers and malls.
New jobs are luring families from villages steeped
in traditional culture to the cities, where Western
values — such as young women picking their own
husbands — are coming to the fore.
Also, young people from poor families see material
goods pouring into the cities and don't understand
why they can't have cell phones or cars, Monsour
said.
Many of the suicides are in families that have moved
to the city in the past year or two, Yones said.
"We're passing a transition period between old
cultural beliefs and opening to a new civilized
world," he said. "The children adapt to the new
developments in the cities while the older people,
including their parents, don't, and that results in
conflicts."
While doing research in 2004 and 2005, Monsour
investigated about 200 cases in the Erbil area that
probably were suicide attempts.
Sometimes, Monsour said, after she'd spent hours
talking quietly with the women in the hospital,
they'd confess what had happened.
The victims included not just newcomers to the city
but also lifelong residents. Some were poor and
uneducated, others had college degrees and office
jobs.
"It could be anyone," she said.
The common factor, though, was usually the
traditional, patriarchal culture, which often leaves
women feeling powerless in dealings with husbands,
fathers or even brothers.
That powerlessness is magnified when a girl marries
young and comes under a husband's domination before
she has a chance to learn much about life, Monsour
said.
"Maybe she's a teenager, and she has to take care of
the house, the husband and the kids and she just
can't handle it," Monsour said.
Sometimes the girl's parents forced her to marry
someone she didn't love or they rejected a suitor
she did want.
Other times, with teenage hormones raging, the
trigger may be as simple — and illogical — as a
brother commandeering a cell phone, a single
argument with a husband or even a bad grade on an
exam.
Whatever the problems before they try to kill
themselves, if they survive, their lives will be
worse.
If the burn victim is married, frequently her
husband will leave her as soon as she signs the
police statement saying the cause was an accident,
Monsour said. He'll wait because if she claims he
had anything to do with her burns, he could be
jailed.
"Then, if she goes to her parents, they will isolate
her from the family, because she'll be unacceptable
and they don't want any guests to see her," Monsour
said.
"They will feel like it's a big shame because their
daughter ran away from her responsibility," she
said. "They give her a mattress and put her in a
room and that's it."
Because it's so painful, fire is a puzzling choice
of weapon, even to the experts who follow the
problem.
Kurdish culture, though, is tied to fire. Kurds
celebrate the new year by burning tires. Also, the
trend feeds on itself, with some girls, nurses say,
copying suicides they hear about in local news
media.
Then there's the simple fact that many Kurdish women
spend the day in the kitchen working with fire,
while they may not have access to, say, pills, Yones
said.
There's almost no mental health care available to
help girls and women before or after they try to
kill themselves. The regional government should
build counseling centers to teach men and women the
basics of relationships, Monsour said.
Also, to help those who tried to kill themselves,
she said, hospitals need post-discharge centers with
psychologists and counselors to train victims how to
cope with their new lives, to make them feel
acceptable again and, if their families have
deserted them, to help them get jobs.
MCT - Mc.Clatchy News
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