The Yezedi of Lincoln, Nebraska
Avishay Artsy
DECEMBER 8, 2007
- A drawing by Layla Khoudeida of an Ezidi priest.
- (Avishay Artsy)
- View the Slideshow
When you come up to the north side of a grey duplex, it looks like any other home in this working-class Lincoln neighborhood.
But step inside, and you find men with beards and mustaches sitting cross-legged on pillows and smoking cigarettes. Kawil Hassan offers me a steaming cup of sweet Iraqi tea. He's the unofficial leader of the Yezidi community here, and right now they're all getting ready to celebrate their big holiday.
The Yezidis call their God Ezid, and this week's holiday is also called Ezid. Yezidis say it's to remember when Ezid appeared to them as a bright light in the sky, around 6,000 years ago. That places the founding of their religion well before the Judeo-Christian tradition. This year, Ezid starts at three a.m. on Tuesday with an early meal, followed by a short nap. Kawil's daughter Layla says they won't eat or drink again until sundown.
"We get up around seven a.m., before the sun comes out, and wash our face and pray, she explains, as her father recites the prayer in Kurdish.
Kawil recites the names of the seven angels and their leader, the Peacock Angel. For three days, the Yezidis will fast and pray, asking for forgiveness and for peace. They haven't seen much of the latter. The Yezidis are a religious minority in a rough part of the world, and they keep count of all the times they've been invaded throughout history. Things didn't get any better under Saddam Hussein. Around the time Layla was born, 19 years ago, her father and several other Yezidi men were rounded up by Iraqi police. They put Kawil Hassan in prison for 45 days. There, he says he was beaten, shocked with electrified cables and immersed headfirst in ice-cold water.
"They thought that we were too religious, too connected to our religion, and they would find any excuse to take us, Layla says.
When the first Gulf War broke out two years later, Saddam Hussein began forcing Yezidi men to join his army. Kawil decided to make a run for it. He and his family hid in caves until they could make it across the border into Syria. They lived there for seven years, in a United Nations refugee camp. Layla remembers it well.
"They brought us blankets and they would help us, but still, we didn't have a future… The bread that they brought us was full of bugs and stuff, she says.
They didn't forget their religion and traditions. They still fasted for three days on Ezid.
On the fourth day, Layla and the other children would sing, and dance, and collect candy from the other Yezidis.
"I would get up early in the morning, take one of the bags that we'd get from the store, and visit every camp that was in the village, and I would visit it and ask for candy, she recalls.
Layla's family made it to the U.S. in 1998. But their problems didn't go away. It's hard for them to explain their religious restrictions to people in Lincoln. They don't wear the color blue, because they believe it offends God. They don't eat lettuce. And on the rare occasion their religion makes the news, it's because of something horrible. On one day last August, suicide bombers killed about 300 Yezidis in northwest Iraq. Kawil Hassan watched the coverage on TV and says it was like reliving a nightmare.
In the face of all that, Yezidi refugees in Lincoln wonder how they can raise their children to speak Kurdish and follow their religion. One Yezidi youth expresses his anguish through rap.
"In the ghetto, there's always someone trying to take your life,
you see little kids carrying guns and knives,
that symbolizes my childhood life.
But as I grew up I was filled with anger,
praying to the Lord so he would send me an angel.
And I'm sorry Lord I can't get through to you,
you were always true to me so I'll be true to you ...
Kawil Hassan's youngest son Jalal just turned 15. He's been in and out of juvenile detention for dealing drugs and stealing cars with his American friends. He finally stopped hanging out with those kids. He's turned a corner, and he's writing rap songs. He says that when he becomes a big hip-hop star, he'll put the Yezidi nation on the map.
Starting Tuesday morning, Jalal says he'll be fasting with his family here, praying and looking forward to the big feast on Friday.
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From nebraska, 04/02/2008
its dosnt look like a yezidi priest, its copy of the prohpet zoroster
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