Jewish delegation receives warm welcome in Kurdistan

I still savour the moment I witnessed earlier this year, which was also symbolic for the short visit of a small Jewish delegation I guided around in Iraqi Kurdistan.

It was their first visit, meant to establish what is the state of Judaism in a region that has a rich and long Jewish heritage, but lost most of the Jews after they left mainly in the fifties and seventies.

I was asked to show them the visible remains of 3000 years of Jewish life in Kurdistan, and we visited amongst others the tomb of some prophets, a synagogue that badly needs to be reconstructed and the old hamam in the Erbil citadel that bears something that looks like the Star of David.

It is amazing how little is left, of such a rich past. But that is not counting the people, nor the feeling of connection that became apparent during the two days the three Israelis spent in Kurdistan.

I had warned them to cover their give-away skull caps for fear of repercussions, and was surprised that when they did not, the reactions were the most positive. Kurds would come to have a chat, make a picture together or just say hi ‘to you, my friends’.

Some said it out loud, but the overall impression was that Kurds still feel a connection with the Jews. Mainly because of the past, but probably also because Israel became the state the Kurds want to for themselves.

One man even made clear to what extent, talking about the way both Kurds and Jews are surrounded by enemies: “The difference is really that you at least have the Mediterranean,” he said to my guests.

Many Kurds they met showed to be in favour of diplomatic relations with the Jewish state. They see Israel as a potential strategic ally because of the similar challenges. Of course, in the present economic crisis, aid from the Israeli side will be welcomed by many. And most Kurds have heard about Kurdish oil ending up in Israel.

But the heartfelt and warm reception my guests were given surprised me, after having witnessed the fear of most Kurds with Jewish roots, locally called Benjews, that I met when researching for my novel about Jewish life in Kurdistan. Almost all were scared of attacks by Muslim radicals.

But since the threat of the Islamic group ISIS has led to a war, many Kurds have turned away from Islam, and radicals have been silenced or have gone underground.

The decision last year of the Kurdistan government to give more attention and rights to the religious minorities, allowing them their own departments inside the Ministry of Religion, has led to more openness on all these beliefs, but the Jews seem to have profited mostly.

Plans are made for a Jewish museum and even a small synagogue to be opened, something that was unspoken of for many years.

Yet at the same time, it is clear that for Jews in Kurdistan, their Jewishness is more a matter of a blood line than of religion. Most of the Benjews have Jewish roots, but are Muslims, because their grandparents converted in Islam to be able to stay safely in Kurdistan.

For that reason, Kurdistan has no registered Jews; no Kurds have the domination ‘Jew’ on their ID. But many feel both Jewish and Muslim, and see no contradiction there. And even government officials have ‘come out’ about their Benjew background.

Many feel proud about their roots, as I heard during the meeting the delegation had with some Benjew families. Men and women spoke about their identity, and the bloodline that they treasure.

From earlier research I know some Benjews in Kurdistan still speak the Aramaic tongue of their Jewish ancestors. But I was surprised to meet a woman, a mater familias, who was able to recite Hebrew prayers and still celebrated the Sabbath as her mother had taught her, at the same time delivering all this knowledge to her children.

It touched me greatly to see the Jewish heritage of Kurdistan is still alive. Even though I am not Jewish myself, I can still celebrate the fact that a taboo is slowly lifting, after over sixty years of fear and suppression.

Judit Neurink wrote The Jewish Bride, about the Jewish past of Iraq and the Kurdistan Region. This spring the book will be published in Kurdish by the Kurdish publishing house Andesha.

The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of Rudaw.