SULAIMANI, Iraqi Kurdistan – On Friday evenings the Xazalnous bookshop in Sulaimani livens with the chatter of intellectuals, artists, musicians and average citizens who gather every week for lively cultural debates.
Every week at this tastefully decorated shop, well-hidden in an underground gallery in downtown Sulaimani, an “artsy” crowd of actors, musicians, poets, singers, writers, directors and playwrights meets to discuss books, movies, art, music, and other things cultural.
Of course, the gathering also attracts art enthusiasts, like Abdullah Haji, who make up for their lack of artistic skills with a fondness for debate and exchange.
“'Maybe I'm not the greatest contributor in the debates, but I feel like I'm learning a lot,” says Haji, 42, who works as a government accountant and never misses a meeting. “Everyone -- even the famous artists -- listens when I give my opinions,” he adds.
Owner Dana Ismail explains that what began as a writers' workshop has turned into a full- blown artistic gathering. Two years ago when the gatherings began, they would attract only a few people, but now between 20 and 40 people show up every week, says Ismail, 37.
“This is the point of having a bookshop: to discuss and exchange - it's not just about selling books, it's not a business,” Ismail explains. “There is not enough cultural activity in the region,” he bemoans, complaining that lack of government interest in promoting culture forced residents to take things into their own hands.
Xazalnous -- named after a novel by Kurdish writer Bakhtyar Ali -- has hosted such famous guests as poet Sherko Berkas, singer Mazhari Khalqi and writer Farhad Pirbal.
Sulaimani is reputed to be the most culture-friendly city in Kurdistan, yet many residents complain that things are developing too slowly, and that official funds for cultural activity are nearly absent.
Shallaw Habiba, a young poet of 30, says one annoying drawback for readers in Kurdistan is the lack of books translated into Kurdish. When translations are made, they are not from the original languages, but from the Arabic editions of books, Habiba complains.
“We lose so much with the translation we have, because they are not first-hand translations,” Habiba says. “Take a French book, for example: there is very little chance that it will be translated directly from French to Sorani. Instead, it will be translated from French to English, then from English to Arabic, and then -- if we're lucky -- to Kurdish.”
Dana Fayaq, a 38-year old writer, draws a dark picture of cultural life in the region. “The government is not involved enough, but that's just the tip of the iceberg. The main problem is with education, both in schools and at home. There is very little interest in art, and if you don't spark this early in a child, it is hard to acquire it later on,” he says.
Bushra Kasnazani, a young literature professor at the University of Sulaimani, is clearly more optimistic: “All my students are amazingly passionate about their work, and many of them sometime come to the meeting. I mean, of course the government does not support culture enough, but Kurdistan is in itself a cultural place. Just look at Kurdish poetry!”
Habiba, the young poet, strongly agrees. Whereas in the West most poetry readings are small gatherings, they draw large crowds in Sulaimani, she notes. Some famous poets, like Jamal Ghambar or Sherko Bekas, need body guards to reach the stage.
