By Alexander Whitcomb and Rekar Aziz ERBIL, Kurdistan Region--The biggest public holiday in the Muslim world passed in Iraqi Kurdistan with little fanfare due to unpaid salaries and a loss of faith in the region’s fair-weather ally, Turkey. “It was a bitter Eid. Many people forgot it was a holiday,” says Kamaran Zirar, referring to the Eid Al-Adha, a feast celebration last week that honors Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son Isaac. Zirar, who works at the Matchko Teahouse at the center of Erbil’s eerily quiet bazaar, said hardly anyone bought livestock for the traditional slaughtering ritual, nor did they buy new clothing to wear, another Eid custom. “People have fear in their hearts and they refuse to come to the market, believing the situation won’t come to an end,” Zirar says. He points to a line of empty tables outside the shop, famous for serving the city’s poets, politicians, and prominent businessmen. “It used to be so crowded you would have to wait in line for a table. But hey, at least we have better service now.” The Kurdistan Regional Government (KRG) has not been paid its share of the national budget since January due to ongoing disputes with Baghdad over the region’s independent oil exports. Since over 60 percent of Iraqi Kurds rely on some form of public payment, the region’s economy is drying up fast. After Kurdish politicians said they would participate in the newly formed government in Baghdad, Iraqi officials promised to pay out two months of public salaries before the holiday as a measure of good faith, only to retract the offer days later. Businessmen counting on an uptick in holiday spending were stunned by the news. “Of course we are frustrated. Things are as bad as they ever have been,” Ismail Osman told Rudaw in his empty computer shop. Osman estimates that he is making ten percent of the money he earned last year. Making matters worse, Osman worries that relations will worsen with the region’s largest trading partner, Turkey, as a result of that country’s refusal to come to the aid of Kobane, the capital of a Kurdish enclave in neighboring Syria. “Turkey is damaging itself if it continues this position towards the Kurds. We will turn to Iran,” he says, although he admits that this will cause further problems with his customers, who far prefer Turkish products. In recent years, Iraq was Turkey’s second largest export market, just behind Germany, mostly because of the Kurdish demand for Turkish goods. This economic relationship - the result of painstaking diplomatic efforts - slowly reversed decades of bad blood between Kurds and Turks. The formula was simple: Turkey would gain Kurdish oil and the prospect of easing tensions with its own restive Kurdish population; the KRG would gain an export route for its oil, easing its dependence on Baghdad. Much of the region’s spectacular growth is due to Turkish trade. But the latest crisis sparked by the Islamic State reveals how easily this progress can be undone. Kurdistan Regional Government officials have openly criticized Turkey for failing to come to the Kurdistan region’s aid when Erbil was under threat from ISIS in early Auguest. The fragile peace process between Turkey and the outlawed Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK), only a year old, meanwhile looks looks under threat if the Turkish government fails to protect the PKK’s affiliate in Syria, the PYD, which is leading the defence of Kobane. The Turkish government has cracked down hard on Kurdish protesters, and ordinary Iraqi Kurds once again feel they are surrounded by enemies. Asked whether he trusted the Turks to support Syrian Kurds, Osman replied: “I don’t think so. Turkey is the enemy of the Kurds. They never really cared about us, putting their interests above all.” Zirar agrees with politicians visiting his teashop, who he says, believe “the biggest mistake we have made was to trust Turkey.” For people like Zirar, there is little to wish for now that the holiday is over—not even independence. “Independence is the reason why Baghdad cut the budget,” he says. “We’re selling oil illegally, it’s no wonder they won’t pay us.” For most Kurds, the only thing to hope for is their salaries. Hardi Salih, a police officer guarding Erbil’s city hall, complains that he hasn’t been paid for three months, and that he has had to take out loans from friends and family to pay the bills. “This Eid, there were no new clothes, no special food, no fun,” he tells Rudaw. “I’ve had to borrow more from my family as shop owners unexpectedly called in my debt—it’s hard to keep track of it all. I would take on another job, but I must work for the police full time.” Back in the Matchko Teahouse, Mohammed Ahmed Hamid busies himself chatting up other customers, hoping they will buy him a tea, or even spot him a few dinars. “I usually work for the vendors in the bazaar, carting their goods in a wheelchair,” he says. “But I haven’t been paid for two months; Iraqi Arabs and Syrian refugees have taken all the work, they work for almost nothing.” He readily offers a litany of complaints to tea drinkers in the shop: his wife is having kidney treatment, and his landlord is about to evict him, he has been injured three times as a Peshmerga but isn’t being paid a pension. He claims he has attempted suicide twice. “I have 20,000 dinar [$15] in my pocket. I married a widow and adopted an orphan. My family was killed in the Anfal. Now Arabs have houses here—why shouldn’t I have a house too? If I’m kicked out, we will live on the street.” His friend and business partner, also called Mohammed, joins him for a tea and asks where I am from. “The USA: OK. The UK: OK. Germany: OK…Kurdistan,” he pauses, knots up his face, and spits on the floor.
