It’s 11 July, and we are in the town of Dukan, in Sulaymaniyah. We arrived here with great excitement. Since Kurdish People’s Leader Abdullah Öcalan’s call on February 27 and the PKK’s congress held between May 5-7, there has been talk that a group of freedom guerrillas would destroy their weapons. The goal is to advance the peace process and show sincerity toward it. However, a cautious atmosphere remains: “For this step to continue, the state must take legal and legislative action.” We, the Free Media, arrived in Sulaymaniyah days ago to follow developments. Here, an international delegation from around the world is present to observe this step taken by the guerrillas. We will follow the developments together and report them to the public.
On Thursday, we arrived at Ashur Hotel, located on the shore of Lake Dukan. “Tomorrow is a big day, we’ll wake up early,” we said, and went to our rooms. We wanted to rest, but sleeping was difficult. We knew that intense preparations were underway in the mountains visible from the window, and we shared the excitement. Time seemed to stand still. While thinking “Will I be able to interview a guerrilla after the ceremony? What should I ask?” I drifted off to sleep. I woke up early, even before my alarm went off. I met other journalists in the hotel lobby.
Meanwhile, we communicated with friends from North Kurdistan who had reached Hewlêr (Erbil)the night before. They, too, had set off early toward the ceremony site.
A global convergence
Due to the risk of provocation, we did not know where or how the ceremony would be held. We asked, but received no answers, so we stopped asking and waited for the moment of departure. I had never been so excited about a journey whose destination I didn’t know. Following a friend’s advice, we decided to head to the site before the official convoy. Our vehicle’s license plate had been submitted to authorities in advance, so we wouldn’t face issues en route or at the entrance. We grabbed our bags and got in the car, but were met with a surprise at the hotel gate. Dozens of journalists from around the world, hundreds of vehicles, and a massive crowd had blocked the road entirely. Stuck on a narrow road with no way out, under the eyes of dozens of cameras and curious faces, we returned to the hotel and decided to depart with the official convoy.
And finally, we are on the move
While we waited in the lobby, a voice suddenly called out excitedly, “We’re leaving!” We headed out again, only to be stunned once more at the door: 54 massive off-road vehicles, brand new and gleaming white, were lined up. The seats were still covered in plastic, none had plates, and their windows were completely darkened. I thought the white color had been chosen intentionally for the occasion, as white symbolizes peace. We were in the Raperin region, and the event was hosted by the PUK. The rivalry between the PUK and the KDP was evident: “Who will host the guests more impressively?”
Huge crowd won’t let us leave
Anyway, today was a historic day for the Kurds. Let’s call it “a rivalry in service of Kurdish gains.” We boarded the vehicles, two per car. A fellow journalist and I took our place in the backseat, as per protocol. Everything felt like a movie scene. Finally, the convoy set off, taking the same road we had tried earlier. The crowd had grown larger, but the PUK security forces had cleared the way, so we proceeded. Warm air and reporters’ announcements of “Historic day… Convoy on the move… Heading to the ceremony site…” hit my face through the half-open window. I ignored the voice of psychological warfare tools. All roads had been closed for us, and we proceeded with ease.
We are going to the mountains, the mountains don’t come to us
My friend knew Sorani and chatted with the PUK driver. The usual Hewlêr vs. Sulaymaniyah comparisons emerged: “Hewlêr is like Dubai, Sulaymaniyah is more like 1990s Diyarbakır—authentic and real.” Conversation gave way to excitement. Our convoy turned off the main Dukan–Sulaymaniyah road onto a rougher path. As minutes passed, the altitude increased, the asphalt deteriorated, the curves sharpened, and small hills gave way to majestic cliffs and mountains. PUK security and special forces stood along both sides of the road. Every hill, rock, and tree seemed to carry the pain of 100 years of statelessness. But the last 50 years of struggle have given this land new meaning: Hope. We were full of mixed emotions—cautious optimism, hope, sorrow…
Meeting the delegation from North Kurdistan
Lost in emotion, we didn’t realize how much time had passed. After a 15–20-minute climb, we left the asphalt behind and hit a dirt road beyond Kanî Xan Village. On the right side of the road, we saw a convoy of about 50 black vehicles: yes, the delegation from North Kurdistan had arrived. We were just a few kilometers from the ceremony site. As we tried to discern who was inside the blacked-out vehicles, the Hewlêr convoy disappeared around a bend. They followed right behind us. As we rounded the same bend, the ceremony site came into view: a platform in front of a massive rock, a large screen, and a white tent. We got out about 100 meters away. Filming was prohibited. At the checkpoint, we handed over our phones and laptops. From here on, we would witness history with only our eyes and memory.
Meaningful location choice
Casene Cave, where the event was held, holds great significance for Kurds. Why? Sheikh Mahmud Hafid had relocated people here in response to British threats. Later, the Bangî Heq newspaper was printed in this cave, giving it the name Şikefta Çapamenî. “Press Cave.” Clearly, the location was carefully chosen.
We sat on chairs under a tent about 150–200 steps from the cave. The temperature exceeded 45°C, with large cooling fans placed on both sides. To the left of the tent was a platform for guerrilla statements; opposite that was a smaller tent for dignitaries. From our seats, we could see both.
Mothers carrying the weight of war
We took our place alongside people exiled in their own country, NGO representatives, journalists, writers, the Peace Mothers, and Saturday Mothers. These were people who had borne the full weight of war and violence. This ceremony brought together long-separated friends, and their reunion gained meaning through the struggle for peace.
Two tents, two atmospheres
The atmosphere in the dignitaries’ tent was different: MIT members, plainclothes soldiers, international observers, and DEM Party leaders sat there. A large cauldron had been set up to burn the weapons.
A live broadcast truck that can’t broadcast
To the left of the entrance, a broadcast truck was present—but not allowed to stream live. Everything was ready: cameras, operators, photographers. But no live coverage was permitted. Footage would be recorded and distributed later. The fragility of the process led to practical challenges, and people worked hard to solve them. Despite everything, the organization was meticulous and dedicated.
Waiting to see who would appear first
Shortly after we were seated, an announcement was made: no chanting, no photos or filming. A few people moved in and out of the cave. Final preparations were underway. Everyone waited anxiously to see who would emerge first. Just then, a photo of Öcalan appeared on the projection screen. The ceremony was about to begin.
A manifestation of collective spirit
Ten minutes later, all eyes locked onto the top of the stairs. Besê Hozat, one of the spokespeople for the soon-to-be-announced Democratic Society and Peace Group, appeared. Silence filled the air. The discipline and embodiment of collective spirit in this struggle was evident. When they reached the last step, applause, slogans, and ululations filled the space. Following Besê Hozat were Behzat Çarçel, Tekoşin Ozan, and Tekin Muş. Fifteen women and fifteen men, each carrying different weapons, entered the area. Four chairs had been placed on the platform; the spokespersons took their seats, and the remaining guerrillas lined up behind them.
Call for legal steps to advance the process
KCK Executive Council Co-Chair Besê Hozat began: “We are here today to make a statement in response to Leader Apo’s call.” She read the statement in Turkish; Behzat Çarçel followed in Kurdish. After a five-second silence, Hozat emphasized that legal and legislative steps must be taken to advance the process. Then she picked up the weapon beside her, stood up, and walked to the burning site. One by one, the guerrillas carefully placed their weapons into the cauldron. They waited beside the dignitary area. The final guerrilla placed their weapon into the fire.
Silence speaks
At the anticipated moment, Besê Hozat and Behzat Çarçel lit the fire with a stick. Fire symbolizes rebirth for Kurds. The message was clear: “This is not an end, but the beginning of a new rebirth.” After lighting the fire, Hozat joined the waiting guerrillas. They exchanged brief glances and silently returned up the stairs. One side was the mountain, the other the plain, a symbolic gesture leaving the remaining work of freedom and peace to others.
We will meet the guerrillas in Casene Cave
Slogans and zılgıt continued until the last guerrilla disappeared. Then came the closing announcement. We were lucky, our interview request had been approved. We would now visit Casene Cave and speak to the guerrillas who had burned their weapons…
Tomorrow: Impressions from conversations and interviews with the guerrillas…
Source: ANF News
