Kronicles of Kurdistan
For a Westerner, (by way of California and New York) living in Kurdistan is a disturbing and comico-macabre screenplay of Primal Tribalism that goes to Islamic Idiocracy onward to Stunning, blatant, inbred Stupidity, for the anti-climax.
During a run-of-the-mill day, one is just as likely to hear from a Kurd that Kurdistan is the greatest country on Earth (never mind that it’s not really a country and that they all want to leave it and go to America, or Germany) and in the next breath, that America sucks.
It hasn’t occurred to these voices that great usually means great economy and great things…not lamb and rice 6 days a week for 60 years and an electrical grid made from tinker toys.
In Duhok, where the author lives and attempts to teach, one is just as likely to have a fellow teacher who is a budding jihadist as a horny Muslim teacher chick just aching to burn that hijab and skip off to Trumplandia.
Kurdistan is a melting-pot of Mohammedism, Misogyny and Mental Retardation.
Kurdistan is a hellish haven for Nincompoop Expats, NGOs and Islamo-Neanderthals.
Kurdistan is a place where men don’t get pussy until they get married; then all they do is try to get pussy for the rest of their lives, only to realize too late that time was up and their dicks didn’t work anymore, because Mohammed said they shouldn’t.
Kurdistan is a caustic cauldron of second-hand Political Correctness, laundered through the Cultural Equivalator. You know…Calvin Klein meets Juicy Couture meets compromised Christianity meets “Don’t Panic – I’m Muslim” t-shirts in the place where Christ actually walked.
Cognitive Dissonance is Cultural Haute Cuisine in Kurdistan. The Cultural Junk Food to be indulged in occasionally – when one has a few extra thousand dinar for pizza – is made of empirical objectivity and facts.
The real high-falootin food, however, is actually almost devoid of flavor, because the ingredients don’t mix well. They cancel each other out so to speak, and one is left with this empty feeling in one’s brain and one’s cultural gut.
It’s okay to be late in Kurdistan, “because I was busy” but it’s not necessary to get busy now “because I was late”.
“The Muslims are going to reform; we just need to work with them on it. Sorry – I’ll be late to class today – I have a Cultural Sensitivity Seminar to attend in Mosul with ex-Daesh guys.”
“The stove will be fixed tomorrow, In Shallah. But which stove is it, Mister?”
“You have classroom management problems. However, bukra – In Shallah – you will have 7 new students in your class of 20!”
“America and Trump are racist! How can I go to America?”
My teacher friend, Z, tells me he tried to teach Nihilism to his students the other day.
He might as well have tried Necromancy or Necrophilia.
I live in a place called Seje. Supposedly, no Mozlems are allowed, yet the “strict Christian beer joint” 15 meters from me sells to the “lapsed” Mozlem drunkards every night of the week.
When I sneer under the breath at the hypocrites, the Christians think I’m rude. I kid you not.
It is the same in the Philippines.
I tell you now. Tribalism trumps (no pun intended) Religious Politics every time.
Peter Matthew David
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