Erbil is a poster child for urban sprawl. As much of Iraq languishes, the capital of Kurdistan is experiencing a period of growth that shows no sign of abating.
In many ways, Erbil, called Hawler by the locals, has the feel of a typical Middle Eastern city: it’s low-rise, the buildings are mostly an unremarkable brown, and traffic jams are a way of life. The city is mostly flat, though an imposing ancient fortress sits atop a dramatic hill in downtown. When you look at a map, it’s clear that the fortress is the heart of the city, with all of the roads radiating out from it.
At the base of Erbil’s citadel is a bustling covered bazaar. Its narrow alleys wind through stalls of clothes, household goods, and gold. Several efforts on my part to do some Christmas shopping there have come up short. Most of the goods are made in China, not Iraq.
Throughout Erbil, there are literally hundreds of road signs pointing to other major cities in Iraq (mostly Baghdad, Mosul, and Kirkuk). It has pleased and amused me to no end to come around a corner on a small back street and see signs pointing me towards some of the country’s hairiest spots.
The Kurds have been remarkably hospitable. On my first day in Erbil, I set off into the bazaar, with no bearings, needing to do a few errands. At each stop, I conducted my business and asked for directions to my next location. And in each case, the storekeeper showed me the way, sometimes leaving his post for 5 minutes to walk me a couple blocks.
My last stop was the book market, a set of narrow stalls in downtown that boasted mostly Arabic literature. I had just finished reading my last book, though, and headed there in the hopes of finding some new reading material.
I quickly found a junky novel and then got into a conversation with Ballen, a 20-year-old med student in Erbil. Ballen, like many Kurds, believes strongly in an independent Kurdistan. It was the first of many conversations I’d have with Kurds on the subject.
“We have Kurdish people in Iraq, Iran, Syria, and Turkey,” he said. “All we want is to have our own country—Kurdistan. We should fight for this.”
Ballen went on to explain how since the start of the war, Iraqi Arabs have fled to the security of Kurdistan. By his telling, the Kurds have extended tremendous hospitality, despite the oppression they suffered under Saddam Hussein and the hostility they continue to face from the rest of the country.
“We welcome them here when they come to Kurdistan,” he said.
“And if you went to Baghdad—“ I began…
“We’d be beheaded,” Ballen laughed.
For all that the Kurds don’t care for the Arabs, if George W. Bush ever needs a new retirement home, he should consider Erbil. The Kurds I’ve spoken to are, by and large, quick to heap praise on Bush. After all, Bush started the war that handed the Kurds the closest thing they’ve had to an independent state. One taxi driver today pestered me repeatedly about when Bush would enter politics again. I informed the guy that Bush was done. “At least the Republicans won the election last month,” he said, citing a fact that many Americans don’t even know.
The Kurdish region has created a sort of security cocoon that has kept the territory practically incident free over the past several years, even as the rest of the country has struggled. While most people think of Kurdistan as encapsulating Iraq’s north, the region maintains an odd, curving border that includes cities like Erbil and excludes Mosul, which is actually north of here.
The area has a regional government that has a complex, sometimes strained relationship with Iraq’s central government. Iraq’s President is Jalal Talabani, a Kurd. His photo adorns a fair number of storefronts around Erbil. The President of the Kurdistan Regional Government is Massoud Barzani. His photo, by contrast, is everywhere. Whereas Talabani and most other Kurdish officials wear suits, Barzani wears traditional Kurdish dress, enamoring himself to the local population.
Erbil’s ancient core is surrounded by a city charging head on into the 21st century. Because of the security in this region, foreign investment is pouring in. On the edges of the sprawl are modern malls, amusement parks, nightclubs, and housing compounds. Visit these places, and it’s hard to imagine the timeless bazaar just a couple miles away.
On one recent day, I decided to visit one of the triumphs of modern Erbil: the Majidi Mall. Walking through the front doors, I might have been anywhere in the States. Adidas and Nike both have stores here. High-end clothing outlets line the halls of the three-storey building. A tremendous supermarket in the basement boasts both U.S. and Iraqi goods. The top floor houses an arcade with bumper cars and bowling, a 6D movie theater (whatever that is), a chocolate fountain, and signs for Pizza Hut and Burger King, which are moving in soon.
The day I went, the mall was packed with Iraqis, passing their weekend in the halls of luxury. Confident I couldn’t afford much there, I took a taxi back to the bazaar for a lunch of shawerma and sweet potatoes.
