Death, chaos in Koya following Iranian attacks
After three days of shelling the border areas of the Kurdistan Region, Iran’s Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) launched a barrage of ballistic missiles and a fleet of suicide drones targeting the bases of Iranian-Kurdish opposition groups in the Region. Rudaw’s Osamah Golpy was in Koya town when some of the Iranian missiles hit. Here is his account:
KOYA, Kurdistan Region - I saw a civilian vehicle transporting wounded Peshmerga to the hospital in Koya, where moments earlier we barely survived an Iranian attack near the headquarters of Kurdish opposition located across the town. Three or four powerful explosions were heard less than a kilometer away from a checkpoint. Luck was on our side, but this was unfortunately not the case for some Peshmerga who were still at the site.
Near the town’s hospital, there were dozens of people, both families of members of the opposition parties as well as locals. A smell of fear and defiance filled the air. A man in his thirties from Koya was there ready to donate his blood to the injured. Every now and then, more vehicles and ambulances made their way into the hospital.
Those from the Kurdish areas of western Iran (Rojhelat) could be seen in groups of fours or fives, knowing that a bigger group would be the target of drones. At the site of the explosions, about two hours after they had occurred, you could see the members of Kurdistan Democratic Party of Iran (KDPI), armed but wearing civilian clothes, blocking people and the media from making their way into the war zone.
Following the second attack, there was anything but control. Chaos descended and young men almost clashed with other armed people, desperate to rescue those who were left behind, now fully under the mercy of fresh attacks.
As we moved through the city, we could hear other explosions, I counted five. Local women were running from one house to another, a baby girl
blocked her ears with her small hands. Moments later I heard a local saying on the phone that another area in the outskirts of the city came under fire.
Koya University is just meters away from the main hospital in the city. Hundreds of students packed their bags and made their ways into buses,
most of them trying to go back to their home cities in Sulaimani or elsewhere. It was a normal day for many of them, but then just after 10am local time, first the sound of explosions and then the news of what had happened made their way into the heart of the university. It was soon announced that university would be shut, at least for a week.
Koya is almost encircled by mountains and hills and those were the very things that earlier today provided some form of shelter to school students who ran away during the Iranian attacks. Many children and some adults could be seen using the nature nearby for shelter, perhaps once again proving the famous Kurdish saying which says “no friends but the mountains.”
KOYA, Kurdistan Region - I saw a civilian vehicle transporting wounded Peshmerga to the hospital in Koya, where moments earlier we barely survived an Iranian attack near the headquarters of Kurdish opposition located across the town. Three or four powerful explosions were heard less than a kilometer away from a checkpoint. Luck was on our side, but this was unfortunately not the case for some Peshmerga who were still at the site.
Near the town’s hospital, there were dozens of people, both families of members of the opposition parties as well as locals. A smell of fear and defiance filled the air. A man in his thirties from Koya was there ready to donate his blood to the injured. Every now and then, more vehicles and ambulances made their way into the hospital.
Those from the Kurdish areas of western Iran (Rojhelat) could be seen in groups of fours or fives, knowing that a bigger group would be the target of drones. At the site of the explosions, about two hours after they had occurred, you could see the members of Kurdistan Democratic Party of Iran (KDPI), armed but wearing civilian clothes, blocking people and the media from making their way into the war zone.
Following the second attack, there was anything but control. Chaos descended and young men almost clashed with other armed people, desperate to rescue those who were left behind, now fully under the mercy of fresh attacks.
As we moved through the city, we could hear other explosions, I counted five. Local women were running from one house to another, a baby girl
blocked her ears with her small hands. Moments later I heard a local saying on the phone that another area in the outskirts of the city came under fire.
Koya University is just meters away from the main hospital in the city. Hundreds of students packed their bags and made their ways into buses,
most of them trying to go back to their home cities in Sulaimani or elsewhere. It was a normal day for many of them, but then just after 10am local time, first the sound of explosions and then the news of what had happened made their way into the heart of the university. It was soon announced that university would be shut, at least for a week.
Koya is almost encircled by mountains and hills and those were the very things that earlier today provided some form of shelter to school students who ran away during the Iranian attacks. Many children and some adults could be seen using the nature nearby for shelter, perhaps once again proving the famous Kurdish saying which says “no friends but the mountains.”