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
Sufi dervishes of the Qaderi order in Sulaimani for their leader's funeral. Photo: Rudaw TV
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Last week hundreds of Sufi dervishes of the Qaderi order from Iran stormed the Iran-Iraq border and, determined to attend the funeral of their leader, Shaikh Mohammad Kasnazani, forced the opening of the border gate. The footage of the dervishes crossing the border accompanied by Daf drum percussion and allegedly with no travel documents has stunned authorities on both sides of the border and sparked heated debates on social media.
The KRG has imposed cross-border travel restrictions on non-commercial traffic because of the coronavirus pandemic. Several dervishes were injured in shootings by the Iranian border police, but failed to prevent their entry to the Kurdistan Region. “We are called by our master, we don’t recognise borders”, said one dervish defiantly to Rudaw. Their disregard for travel regulations and restrictions have been denounced by the Kurdish and the Iranian authorities and some members of the public who labelled them as “ignorant fanatics”. Some others, however, saw their move as “challenging the colonial borders,” and therefore “inspirational.”
I grew up in a Qaderi household in Saqez, a small town in Iran. My grandfather was a Qaderi Khalifa, and every Friday night I witnessed the gathering of dervishes to perform dhikr that involved recitation of verses that were mostly in Kurdish, accompanied by playing drums, and ritual whirling and dancing as a form of meditation. Dervishes dance themselves into a trance to overcome the bodily world and get closer to God. At the state of trance they perform extraordinary acts such as piercing their bodies with spears and knives to demonstrate that their spirits have overcome their bodies. At this state they do not experience pain and their bodies remain intact and rarely spill even a drop of blood. As a child I was a curious observer and as a girl tremendously fortunate to have access to these gatherings since women are not generally allowed to attend (they have their own separate events). The spectacle of whirling dervishes with their very long hair and pierced bodies, dancing to the sound of drums, may look intimidating to an outsider but, since the gatherings are open to non-followers, their peacefulness becomes apparent to enquiring viewers. No one is coerced to take part in the ritual and those who just wish to observe are treated with respect. While dancing collectively, dervishes are immersed in their own world. Their collective contemplative practices accompany their inward journey of self-inquiry. Dervishes don’t preach their beliefs, they live them. They denounce wealth and choose poverty, humility, and simplicity.
Their way of life, however, has not been appreciated by Kurdish nationalist intellectuals. Modern Kurdish poetry that has been a powerful and popular medium of propagating Kurdish nationalism and modernism, is replete with mocking images of Sufi followers who are ridiculed for their ‘ignorance’ and ‘superstition’ and their beliefs have been the subject of satires. As an avid reader of modern Kurdish poetry, I found modern poets’ depiction of dervishes biased and intolerant. Their negative portrayal, however, have shaped the negative opinions of the Kurdish educated class for generations. Pushed aside by Kurdish elites and the governments alike, Sufi followers have become an invisible sector of the Kurdish society. Their march on foot from Iran to Iraqi Kurdistan and breaking an international border amidst a pandemic reminded everyone of their existence. Kurdish social media was flooded with responses, mostly disparaging, and some Kurdish media outlets adopted similar demeaning language in their reports.
Nevertheless, a significant number of young educated Kurds demanded due respect for dervishes, while expressing valid concerns for health issues. Unlike their previous generations, they did not ridicule them, but described the dervishes’ beliefs and way of life as a part of Kurdish cultural heritage that must be actively preserved. They pointed out that dervishes “dress Kurdish, speak Kurdish, perform Kurdish”. This marks a significant shift in attitude toward Sufi orders and reveals a more inclusive approach among the younger generation of Kurdish elites who are also inspired by the Kurdish heritage revitalisation efforts in the Iranian Kurdistan over the past decade. Some drew attention to the peacefulness and tolerance of Sufi followers in comparison with radical Salafi movements that have been on the rise in Kurdistan. Indeed, dervishes have been under attack by radical Islamist groups who accuse them of heresy and idolatry and their holy shrines have been destructed.
Kurdish society is multi-religious, multi-faith, multi-cultural and a change in attitude toward Kurdish dervishes offers a ray of hope for a more inclusive society.
Farangis Ghaderi is Postdoctoral Research Fellow at the Centre for Kurdish Studies at the University of Exeter in the UK. She holds a PhD in Kurdish Studies (University of Exeter) and an MA in English literature (Shahid Beheshti University of Tehran). She is the author of several peer-reviewed articles on Kurdish literature and culture.
The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of Rudaw.
The KRG has imposed cross-border travel restrictions on non-commercial traffic because of the coronavirus pandemic. Several dervishes were injured in shootings by the Iranian border police, but failed to prevent their entry to the Kurdistan Region. “We are called by our master, we don’t recognise borders”, said one dervish defiantly to Rudaw. Their disregard for travel regulations and restrictions have been denounced by the Kurdish and the Iranian authorities and some members of the public who labelled them as “ignorant fanatics”. Some others, however, saw their move as “challenging the colonial borders,” and therefore “inspirational.”
I grew up in a Qaderi household in Saqez, a small town in Iran. My grandfather was a Qaderi Khalifa, and every Friday night I witnessed the gathering of dervishes to perform dhikr that involved recitation of verses that were mostly in Kurdish, accompanied by playing drums, and ritual whirling and dancing as a form of meditation. Dervishes dance themselves into a trance to overcome the bodily world and get closer to God. At the state of trance they perform extraordinary acts such as piercing their bodies with spears and knives to demonstrate that their spirits have overcome their bodies. At this state they do not experience pain and their bodies remain intact and rarely spill even a drop of blood. As a child I was a curious observer and as a girl tremendously fortunate to have access to these gatherings since women are not generally allowed to attend (they have their own separate events). The spectacle of whirling dervishes with their very long hair and pierced bodies, dancing to the sound of drums, may look intimidating to an outsider but, since the gatherings are open to non-followers, their peacefulness becomes apparent to enquiring viewers. No one is coerced to take part in the ritual and those who just wish to observe are treated with respect. While dancing collectively, dervishes are immersed in their own world. Their collective contemplative practices accompany their inward journey of self-inquiry. Dervishes don’t preach their beliefs, they live them. They denounce wealth and choose poverty, humility, and simplicity.
Their way of life, however, has not been appreciated by Kurdish nationalist intellectuals. Modern Kurdish poetry that has been a powerful and popular medium of propagating Kurdish nationalism and modernism, is replete with mocking images of Sufi followers who are ridiculed for their ‘ignorance’ and ‘superstition’ and their beliefs have been the subject of satires. As an avid reader of modern Kurdish poetry, I found modern poets’ depiction of dervishes biased and intolerant. Their negative portrayal, however, have shaped the negative opinions of the Kurdish educated class for generations. Pushed aside by Kurdish elites and the governments alike, Sufi followers have become an invisible sector of the Kurdish society. Their march on foot from Iran to Iraqi Kurdistan and breaking an international border amidst a pandemic reminded everyone of their existence. Kurdish social media was flooded with responses, mostly disparaging, and some Kurdish media outlets adopted similar demeaning language in their reports.
Nevertheless, a significant number of young educated Kurds demanded due respect for dervishes, while expressing valid concerns for health issues. Unlike their previous generations, they did not ridicule them, but described the dervishes’ beliefs and way of life as a part of Kurdish cultural heritage that must be actively preserved. They pointed out that dervishes “dress Kurdish, speak Kurdish, perform Kurdish”. This marks a significant shift in attitude toward Sufi orders and reveals a more inclusive approach among the younger generation of Kurdish elites who are also inspired by the Kurdish heritage revitalisation efforts in the Iranian Kurdistan over the past decade. Some drew attention to the peacefulness and tolerance of Sufi followers in comparison with radical Salafi movements that have been on the rise in Kurdistan. Indeed, dervishes have been under attack by radical Islamist groups who accuse them of heresy and idolatry and their holy shrines have been destructed.
Kurdish society is multi-religious, multi-faith, multi-cultural and a change in attitude toward Kurdish dervishes offers a ray of hope for a more inclusive society.
Farangis Ghaderi is Postdoctoral Research Fellow at the Centre for Kurdish Studies at the University of Exeter in the UK. She holds a PhD in Kurdish Studies (University of Exeter) and an MA in English literature (Shahid Beheshti University of Tehran). She is the author of several peer-reviewed articles on Kurdish literature and culture.
The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of Rudaw.
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