The People Who Remember Old Erbil: Life and Friendship in 'Araban' Quarter

ERBIL (Kurdistan24) - For Kerim Sheikh Eli, the history of Erbil's Araban quarter is not something confined to old buildings or street names. It lives in memories of boys wandering together through narrow lanes, families building homes near the Citadel and neighbors who knew one another long before the neighborhood acquired its familiar name.

Kerim is among several longtime residents who have recounted the history of Araban, also known as the Arab Quarter, through their own lives.

Their stories describe an older Erbil in which Kurds, Arabs, Turkmen, Assyrians, Armenians, Ezidis and Jews lived alongside one another, sharing both the daily routines and the milestones of community life.

Jemal Dilan, another resident, remembers the neighborhood not chiefly for its differences but for the ease with which those differences coexisted.

"In that neighborhood, we created a simple, sweet life together," he said.

A Neighborhood Grows Below the Citadel

Kerim traces the quarter's beginnings to the period when families gradually moved down from Erbil's Citadel.

Around 1910, he said, Araban had not yet taken shape as a recognizable residential neighborhood. Landmarks already stood in the area, including a church, the Sheikh Muhyiddin lodge and the Pasha Mosque.

The nearby bazaar was an important part of daily life, drawing people into the area for commerce and prayer.

Houses gradually appeared, and Arab families arrived from Hawayrah, Shashsha and Balda, bringing buffalo that they kept in pens facing the Citadel.

Kerim recalled that his family had lived in the Araban neighborhood by 1933. As more homes were constructed, people began identifying locations by their proximity to the Arab households.

"Where did you build?" people would ask, he recalled. The answer was often, "Near the Arab houses." The description endured, until Araban became the name by which the quarter was commonly known.

The name was not inevitable. Kerim recalled an occasion when the mayor summoned residents to propose one. Some suggested Uzayriya, after the shrine of Prophet Ezra. Another proposed name was Muzaffariya, associated with a local shrine. The mayor preferred Yeni Mahalla, but the residents resisted that choice too.

No agreement emerged, and the everyday name survived.

For Kerim, those stories were part of a childhood spent outside with friends. He remembers carrying a stick as he led a small group through the alleys, including boys named Little Ahmad and Anwar. Their friendships endured as they grew older, while the demands of adulthood took over.

He recalled working from morning until evening for two dirhams and continuing his studies at night, a routine that places the neighborhood's history not only in its landmarks but in the labor of the people who lived there.

'We Celebrated Together, Mourned Together'

Naske Jelal remembers a different kind of continuity: generations of her family living in the same place. Her grandmother and great-grandfather had been there, she said, and the neighborhood had been home for as long as she could remember.

She spoke warmly of Christian neighbors who came to offer condolences when someone died, recalling their courtesy and respect. For her, the boundaries between religious communities had little meaning in the relationships people formed.

"Muslim, Christian, Armenian - what's the difference?" she asked.

Juni Dawid also remembers Araban through shared occasions rather than separate identities.

Recalling the neighborhood's life after his family's arrival in Erbil in 1961, he described streets where Christian families lived alongside neighbors from other backgrounds and attended one another's celebrations and mourning gatherings.

"We celebrated together, mourned together, and shared joys and sorrows, all of us," he said.

He remembered an affection that made religious and ethnic labels seem secondary. The sweetness of those years, he said, remains with the people who experienced them.

The quarter also produced figures remembered well beyond its alleys. Jemal named religious teachers and clerics, including Khalifa Majid, Sheikh Muhyiddin and Mullah Asad of Hawler, alongside artists such as Mishko, Zakaria, Salih Fattah and Sabah Abdulrahman. Poet Nazim Darmand was among the cultural figures he associated with the area.

He also remembered shopkeepers, neighborhood personalities and families whose names were woven into its social life. Together, the recollections suggest a place where cultural activity, religious life and ordinary business unfolded within walking distance of one another.

A House for the Next Generation

For Kerim, preserving that past has become a personal wish. He said he has instructed his children to turn the family home into a museum once the building is renovated.

The idea would give a physical home to memories otherwise carried through conversation: the first houses near the Citadel, the buffalo pens, the children in the alleys, the work that supported families and the neighbors who marked life's occasions together.

The residents do not offer a complete written history of Araban. They offer something more intimate: accounts of what it felt like to grow up and belong there. In their recollections, the old quarter survives not simply because its name remains on people's lips, but because the relationships formed in its lanes have not been forgotten.