city of mourning

I have lost count of the number of people who have asked, Why Kurdistan? It is a question that most of us have asked each other more than once; but not in the usual way of expats (to discover what line of work another person is in or if they share any similar interests). It is almost as if the asker is hoping that the other's response could lead to a better understanding of his or her own motives. I imagine that there are people who visit places in or on the edge of war zones out of perverse curiosity; there are also the economically motivated, and those who see the opportunity to carve out a niche for themselves in a newly opened region (become a big fish in a small pond). But for many of us others, I think the reasons - like our individual impressions of this place- are intensely personal.

My impressions: This picture (taken by S) captures some of what I felt when I first arrived and saw a group of black-clad women teetering like crows on a fragile branch in the dark in front of a deserted shack just outside the airport. They appeared to be waiting for something/anything to happen. The other day, when commenting on the disappointment and frustration I imagined some local people must surely be feeling (regarding how long certain types of development were taking), I was told, They are used to waiting.

So maybe we are here to wait alongside the local population and learn patience. Is there any hopefulness or eagerness to truly live that punctuates the later stages of mourning following trauma? In the early stages, what happens when there are setbacks? I hope we are here not to capitalize on the pain present, but to share in the process of moving past it.