Fox-hunting, Kurdish style
By Tanya Goudsouzian - SANGAW, GARMIYAN
SOMA Paper - Issue No.37 Friday, March 21, 2008  -   Thursday, April 03, 2008

No animals were killed or harmed in the pursuit of this article.

It's high noon and the sun is blazing over the wide expanse of green fields and rocks at Naw Tawer in Garmiyan, a mostly rural area southwest of the Kurdish city of Slemani.

Ziwa waddles behind her master, 72-year-old Mama Rasha. Her rusty fur has lost its luster, and it is clear she is finding it hard to keep up, but like her master, she refuses to let her age hold her back from the sport. She tags along anyway, panting profusely, and splashing around in whatever patch of water she finds on her way to keep herself cool.

The other dogs are way ahead of them, anxiously sniffing around and sticking their snouts into crevices in the ground for traces of snakes. Snakes would hamper the expedition, and it is the first thing the canine team must look for, before they begin the fox hunt.

“It's too hot, and the dogs are tired,” grumbles Mama Rasha, who is wearing a thick woolen Kurdish costume. “It's best to go hunting early in the morning, or later in the evening, when it's not so hot.”

Ziwa seems to be nodding in agreement – or perhaps, trying to shake off a tick.
 

“I don't think we'll catch anything today," Mama Rasha continues. “All the animals are hiding. They don't come out of their holes when it's so hot…”

Mama Rasha has been hunting since he was a boy. Back then, he recalls, they used horses. Now, they must go on foot.

“During the Anfal, Saddam's army stole everything from us, including our horses,” he says, adding that 67 people were killed from his village alone during the notorious campaign. The village of Kala was established in the 1950s.

Rashid AbdulKarim AbdulQader, popularly known as “Mama Rasha” (Uncle Rasha), is “piawa ma qool” (representative) of the Barzinje tribe in the Sangaw region of Garmiyan. He estimates there to be about 3,000 tribe members in the region.

“Young people are not as interested in the traditional ways, maybe because it is now forbidden to hunt, but I do it anyway,” he says with a mischievous smile. “Look, hunting is not forbidden in Islam. You're allowed to kill anything you can eat.”

He breathes deeply and scans the horizon. Ziwa is idling near his feet, but the other dogs have run far away to a rocky area where there be fox holes.

“Hunting is a relaxing sport,” he sighs. “It relaxes the body and the mind by taking your focus away from the daily problems of life…”

The silence in the fields is shattered by the firing of a rifle. Have they caught something? Mama Rasha's cousin, Sheikh Jalal, is signaling that the dogs are onto something. Ziwa skedaddles to the scene. Two of the smaller dogs have entered the grotto and there is some serious barking going on. The fox is resisting arrest.

"You see, the dogs don't kill the fox," explains Sheikh Jalal, 61. “They just force it to come out of the cave, and we do the killing…”

Is there any special chant that Kurdish hunters sing, or a special practice to woo the animal out of its hole?

“Yes,” says Sheikh Jalal. “You keep really quiet…”

Point taken.

The two smaller dogs come out, exhausted. It's Ziwa's turn to face the fox. She musters her strength and enters the grotto. Some barking, a few squeals, and Zewa, too, has thrown in the towel. The fox will not die today. “It's too hot,” groans Mama Rasha. “We should have come out earlier… It's too hot.”

Mama Rasha calls it a day.

It is time to retire to the house, and sip sugary tea on the cool veranda, served by one of his daughters. His youngest daughter is four. Mama Rasha is a stickler for the old ways, and regrets that modernity and economic realities are eroding tradition. He believes the Kurdistan Regional Government (KRG) has not done enough for the residents of the rural areas, fuelling the migration to the urban centers.

“People are leaving the villages for better opportunities in the cities, but at this rate, who's going to stay behind to look after the livestock and agriculture?” he asks. “They go to the cities to get menial jobs in the government. But they would be better off staying in the villages, if only the government put more effort in bringing better services to the rural areas. There are no schools, no sanitation…”

A woman appears in the doorway of the veranda. It is wife #3. She informs her husband that lunch is ready, and has been set up in the adjoining room, Kurdish style, on a cloth on the floor. There is a bounty of rice, mutton, stewed vegetables, and freshly baked bread. Wife #3 does not join the party, neither do the other wives. While it is clear that modern amenities have not permeated the area, neither have modern ideas, says Mama Rasha, a little too gratefully, referring to “women's rights and other such foolish notions”.