She stood on these rocks knowing these were the rocks that once protected her from the dark Kurdistan nights, rocks that kept her family in a loving home. She stood on these fallen rocks looking out at the mountains that surrounded her childhood, the mountains that provided fresh water, shelter, and life for my mother. However, these rocks now are just fallen rocks that are memories of the past. The past that she's dying to get back before the chemical storm crept into her village. The village that she grew up in is now an empty object of the past. My mother who steps out of the car and cries every time she sees her beautiful village. A village where the water still flows the plants still grow but now there are fallen rocks, which symbolizes the destruction that was placed on the Kurds and Kurdistan. As her heart continues to ache after every tear that falls down her face she is still able to hold these memories dear to her heart. A memory that depicted her mother (Xode jê razî bît), her father, her brothers, and sisters together. Gundê Eradina is one of those villages like many others that are empty. Empty not because people do not care, but because as it is seen within this story it becomes painful to step into a village where many died trying to escape, many were scared hiding within the mountains, and many left everything behind to run into the unknown. My mother who will always step out of that car and reflect back on those fallen rocks that once protected her, who will look out into the distance and remember the memories she shares with her mother. Even if it is painful for her to remember, not remembering is the biggest pain of all.
[This is dedicated to my Mother for always being the strongest woman I know, my Grandmother who created a beautiful daughter and showed her what love is, and Gundê Eradina for protecting my family and giving them a beautiful childhood in the mountains of Kurdistan]