Flag Mountain, Duhok. April 2019
Climbing Flag Mountain with Taha
My shoes finally wore out in Duhok with all the walking I had done. I ended up getting a "temporary" (read: extremely cheap) pair in a shop in Duhok Mall because I would be travelling to Dubai soon which would have a much better selection of branded items. Taha was working as a salesperson and we struck up a conversation because he was personable AND spoke great English. By this time WMF was solidly my best bud in Duhok, but the guy worked all the time and I sorely needed someone else to hang out with who was not a student AND who had just a little more free time. Taha and I met a few more times for coffee and we hit it off immensely. I learned a lot from him about the struggle of young Kurds as they try to define themselves in Northern Iraq and face the question of "go or stay". Taha was just one confused young man. We also, after those coffees, took some long walks all over Duhok.
Without much plan, one day we were walking and ended up at Duhok Dam [see: long walks and long thoughts] which is not all that unusual since all roads seem to lead there AND there is not much else to do in Duhok except go there or walk up and down the main shopping street known as KRO. We paid an entrance fee and climbed up into this little faux archeological park at the base of Flag Mountain that explained how it was actually the Kurds (rather than the ancient Assyrians) who settled in this land. I couldn't fault the Kurdish government much, to be honest. What place does not retell history in its own image? Even Taha who was proudly Kurdish thought it was completely ridiculous.
It was late spring and there were lots of wildflowers blooming but still not summer "hot". We started to walk upward, yet still not with a plan to summit the mountain. It started with walking through a lovely hillside meadow of poppies. Flag mountain is visible from all over Duhok because one side is a sheer cliff face and on it is painted a huge Kurdish flag. The opposite side, however, facing Duhok Dam, is actually not that steep of a slope. The issue was more that the shoes I had bought from Taha's shop had very little tread on them and I was worried about slipping (which I did many times). We kept going up and wondering if we should continue until we finally did make it to the top. It must have been the most tentative mountain climb of my life, "continue or not?", ad infinitum. Had it not been for my treadless shoes, we certainly would have made it up more quickly and decisively. Taha was terrified I would fall the whole walk. At the summit we were rewarded with a stunning view over town and back over the dam. Lots of young people enjoying the late afternoon sun had arrived before us. Kurds really do love hiking - they are mountain people after all. Climbing Flag Mountain is one of my best memories of Duhok.
During the climb, Taha explained to me that he had a dream of working in some medical profession, but his high school exit exam scores were just too low. He actually had retaken them after his first attempt, but still they weren't quite high enough. He explained that if he attended just the final year of an elite prep school in Duhok, he was certain of getting the scores necessary, but the cost was out of his reach. When I found out just a few hundred dollars stood between him and his goal, I encouraged him to do it one more time and I would make up the difference. I am a teacher after all - I better be pro-education and Taha was the real deal, no scam artist.
Fast forward a bit. The pandemic hit and it affected education especially. He did finish up his study and took the exams and squeaked out a high enough score to be considered at one of the big universities for a medical profession. However, he then found out he was too old to start one of those majors (by a matter of a few months all due to the pandemic). The poor guy was crestfallen. He was perhaps one of the most unlucky people in life I had ever met. Part of it was bad luck and part of it was always making the worst possible choice in any situation based on "expert" advice from family members and friends who had no clue about anything he was trying to do with his life. Taha was a case study in how to fail abjectly. Although I truly liked this kid, I came to understand the longer I knew him that he: a) never listened to my or any other thoughtful person's advice, and b) always figured he could talk his way out of any situation. This strategy having failed him his ENTIRE life, he showed no evidence of wanting to change.
Finally, he found a very cheap medical school in Russia with an all English curriculum. I told him to research it (as did I). I came to find that there is a whole semi-underground industry in Russia accepting students into medical colleges who failed to enter elsewhere (mostly from India, but from a smattering of other countries, too). This made me nervous thinking about where all these graduates actually ended up practicing. I didn't want to go down that rabbit hole! Taha, however, was willing because the cost for foreign students was extremely affordable. After a lot of confusion and ignoring my advice, he got himself accepted at Mordovian State University (in the middle of no-where-istan, Russia) although even that seemed suspect because they had all kinds of conditions attached to that acceptance. Still, I was solidly behind him. I told him if he got a visa and figured out how to get there, I would try to help out as I could since the tuition was literally peanuts. One stipulation on my side, though - no online education. For the first year of medical school? In a new country? Just no. I had done online teaching myself and knew how dubiously effective it could be. The first year of medical school is foundational! I told him that if it were online, he would be better off waiting another year, working, and saving money for in-person later. THAT was unacceptable to him because he had already "run out of time" (so tells the 27 year old to the 59 year old). Well, Mordovian State came back to him and said his first semester would indeed be online and would he mind paying the fees? I explained that since he had money saved for living expenses, and since he would be living at home for "free", he could pay for the first semester himself. As per agreement, I had said, "no online education". I was not prepared to invest even a small amount of money on what seemed a dubious scheme at best. I could not have been clearer - just wait a year or pay it yourself (he had the cash).
And with that started the great "try to talk his way out out of it and around it". Part of that is cultural - Kurds live in a society where you can talk your way out of literally anything [see: Duhok teahouse overlook]. That not working with me, as you might have guessed, there were hard feelings. At the time, I felt frustrated, but now I just feel sad for the guy.
You can only try to help people, but finally people must help themselves.
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