After a Decade of Exile, a Kurdish Artist Finds Hope in Kurdistan Region

ERBIL (Kurdistan 24) – From every corner of Kurdistan's mountains, a voice rises, weaving a story. It is a voice that emanates from the depths of villages, from stones that hold the echoes of ancestors who sang of love, war, and exile.

Kurdish art is not merely a luxury; it is the living memory of a people who refuse to let time erase their features. It is a history narrated through song, an identity played on strings that oscillate between pain and beauty. Despite the intermingling of melodies in the world, Kurdish art retains a uniqueness that distinguishes it from the arts of other nations; born from the womb of suffering, longing has shaped it into a singular artistic school.

In an exclusive interview with Kurdistan 24, Kurdish artist Abdulrahman Ahmed describes Kurdish art as "the memory and voice of Kurdistan," asserting that the Kurdish song embodies a "different spirit" in the musical landscape because it "emerged from pain" and carries within its melodies "a long history of patience and resilience."

Abdulrahman Ahmed, who hails from the village of Kuran in the city of Afrin, northwestern Syria (Western Kurdistan), and currently resides in Switzerland, began his artistic journey in the 1970s. His art is characterized by a classical style, in which he excels at narrating and singing Kurdish stories, epics, and legends in his own unique manner. He is also a writer, having published four books, including "Chance and fateو" "fragrance and antidote," a biography of his own life, and another book about "Ali Tajo," which remains a manuscript.

When he set foot in the Kurdistan Region for the first time, Abdulrahman felt an overwhelming sense of belonging. "This is my first visit to the Kurdistan Region, and my feeling upon arriving in Erbil was incredibly overwhelming and powerful," he told Kurdistan 24. "I felt that I was among my own people, that I could speak my Kurdish language everywhere and hear it in the replies I received."

He was deeply moved by the warm welcome he received throughout the region, describing the experience not as a mere visit but as a homecoming. "I felt a deep connection and true happiness, as if I were returning to my homeland after a long absence."

After years of artistic suppression in Syria, where he was banned from singing and composing for a full decade, Abdulrahman finally found in Kurdistan the space for creative freedom he had long dreamed of. "The feeling of being in my homeland and being able to sing freely is one of the most powerful impressions I will always carry with me."

Abdulrahman also expressed his profound admiration for the urban and cultural development in Erbil. "The towering palaces, the buildings rising to 10, 15, and 20 stories, the modern roads—what I have seen here exceeded my expectations and even surpassed what I have seen in parts of Europe," he said. With an optimistic tone, he added, "If Erbil continues to develop like this for another ten years, it will surpass Dubai."

This progress, in his words, fills him with pride and hope and serves as a powerful source of inspiration. "The growth of Kurdistan is not just material, but also spiritual. It gives artists like me the motivation to create and express themselves without constraints."

Speaking about the emotional bond between Afrin and Kurdistan, Abdulrahman affirmed, "There is a great similarity between the Kurdish spirit in the Kurdistan Region and in Afrin." He continued, "The people of Kurdistan, like us, possess a progressive and compassionate spirit. I have felt a deep emotional and cultural unity—a single, shared soul that extends across all Kurdish lands."

He believes that the authentic art of Afrin, which stems from the heart of its stories and emotions, will resonate strongly with the audience in Kurdistan. "The connection between the Kurds of the Kurdistan Region and the Kurds of Afrin is deeply rooted; the spirit is one."

For Abdulrahman, the Kurdistan Region represents not just a homeland but a spiritual rebirth. After ten years of forced silence in Syria and years of exile in Sweden, he found in the region what every artist longs for: the right to create, to sing, and to be heard.

"In Kurdistan, I saw artists who were free, singing as they wished, telling their stories, and celebrating their identity through their music," he said. "This feeling—of being in your homeland, free and respected—is beyond all description."

The artist called for the necessity of preserving Kurdish artistic heritage, especially the musical identity of Afrin, which has suffered from the ravages of displacement and fragmentation. "I hope that institutions in Kurdistan will contribute to documenting and protecting Afrin's heritage," he urged. "Art must be the bridge that connects all Kurdish artists—from Afrin and Qamishli to Sulaimani, Mahabad, and Diyarbakir."

He also stressed the importance of art evolving without losing its connection to its roots. "I don't believe in reproducing the old as it is. We must refine and renew it, breathing new life into the legacy passed down from our ancestors."

Abdulrahman explained that what distinguishes Afrin's music is its emotional honesty and its deep connection to the land. "The songs of Qamishli and Kobani are characterized by fast rhythms and joyfulness, while Afrin's songs are predominantly melancholic because they were born from a land surrounded by conflict." He believes a true artist from Afrin "must sing from the roots—their song should unfold like a narrative series, telling the history of the people and the place."

He noted that in its early days, Afrin's music relied exclusively on the beauty of the voice, far from structured artistic modes (maqams). "Maqams were only introduced into Afrin's art about twenty years ago, but the authentic songs still rely on the correct melodic structure, like the song 'Aisha,' which is sung at every wedding for its beauty and sincere melody."

He emphasized that nature has profoundly shaped the art of Afrin. "Afrin is like a 'rose garden'—a lush park, but its roses are the olive trees that stretch endlessly, and this is what gives our art its special soul."

Abdulrahman traced the roots of Kurdish art back to early Sufi traditions. "The Sufis saw art as a means of uniting people, but they used it primarily for praise and worship," he said. "Then came Ziryab and Ibrahim al-Mawsili, who wanted art to be accessible to everyone—and from here, diversity was born."

Abdulrahman considers himself both a guardian and a modernizer of this heritage. Out of twenty music videos to his credit, six are traditional works, while the rest are his own compositions and lyrics. "For me, every song must carry a story—like a series with a beginning and an end, something people can feel and connect with."

Regarding his audience, Abdulrahman says, "The people in Afrin have a sensitive ear that distinguishes emotion. They understand the pain in a song. The diaspora audience is a bit more detached from tradition, and the younger generation in Europe often feels disconnected from their Kurdish roots. But in Kurdistan, I feel I am truly among my people—an audience full of compassion."

He believes that despite displacement and demographic change, the voice of Afrin has become stronger than ever. "The pain we have endured has made our voice louder, even if we are scattered across all corners of the earth."

In his concluding remarks, Abdulrahman expressed his deep gratitude to the people and leadership of the Kurdistan Region. "I extend my thanks to President Masoud Barzani and Prime Minister Masrour Barzani for their efforts in advancing the region," he said with pride. "What I have seen here gives me hope and pride—I see Kurdistan as the number one region in the world."

He left an impactful message for young Kurdish artists:
"True art is the bridge of memory. Preserve your language, the heritage of your mothers, and your unity. What we sing today will protect Kurdistan's identity tomorrow."

He concluded his talk with emotionally charged words:
"Afrin, for me, is roots, pain, and beauty. And the Kurdistan Region is homeland and hope. When I sing for Afrin, I feel that I am singing for history itself—for dignity, and for a hope that never dies."