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Το ντουφέκι του πατέρα μου
"Με λένε Αζάντ Σερό Σελίμ. Είμαι εγγονός του Σελίμ Μαλέι.
Ο παππούς μου είχε πολύ χιούμορ. Έλεγε πως είχε γεννηθεί Κούρδος, σε μια ελεύθερη γη. Ύστερα ήρθαν οι Οθωμανοί και είπαν στον παππού μου: είσαι Οθωμανός, και έγινε Οθωμανός. Μετά την πτώση της Οθωμανικής Αυτοκρατορίας έγινε Τούρκος...
Από την άνοδο του Σαντάμ Χουσεΐν στην εξουσία μέχρι τη φυγή τού αφηγητή στην Ευρώπη, ένας νεαρός Κούρδος του Ιράκ μας εξιστορεί με συγκλονιστική απλότητα τις ταλαιπωρίες που υπέστησαν οι δικοί του, την εξορία τους στο Ιράν και την αντίστασή τους."
Ο συγγραφέας δεν θέλησε να γράψει ένα πολιτικό βιβλίο. Απλώς, μέσ' από την αφήγηση της προσωπικής του ιστορίας προβάλλει τους αδιάκοπους αγώνες των Κούρδων, που μες στις συμπληγάδες της διεθνούς πολιτικής αντιστέκονται με την περηφάνια των μικρών λαών και προσπαθούν να διατηρήσουν την εθνική και πολιτιστική τους ταυτότητα, θυμίζοντάς μας κάποτε και τις δικές μας εθνικές περιπέτειες, τη δική μας ιστορία.
Ο παππούς μου είχε πολύ χιούμορ. Έλεγε πως είχε γεννηθεί Κούρδος, σε μια ελεύθερη γη. Ύστερα ήρθαν οι Οθωμανοί και είπαν στον παππού μου: είσαι Οθωμανός, και έγινε Οθωμανός. Μετά την πτώση της Οθωμανικής Αυτοκρατορίας έγινε Τούρκος...
Από την άνοδο του Σαντάμ Χουσεΐν στην εξουσία μέχρι τη φυγή τού αφηγητή στην Ευρώπη, ένας νεαρός Κούρδος του Ιράκ μας εξιστορεί με συγκλονιστική απλότητα τις ταλαιπωρίες που υπέστησαν οι δικοί του, την εξορία τους στο Ιράν και την αντίστασή τους."
Ο συγγραφέας δεν θέλησε να γράψει ένα πολιτικό βιβλίο. Απλώς, μέσ' από την αφήγηση της προσωπικής του ιστορίας προβάλλει τους αδιάκοπους αγώνες των Κούρδων, που μες στις συμπληγάδες της διεθνούς πολιτικής αντιστέκονται με την περηφάνια των μικρών λαών και προσπαθούν να διατηρήσουν την εθνική και πολιτιστική τους ταυτότητα, θυμίζοντάς μας κάποτε και τις δικές μας εθνικές περιπέτειες, τη δική μας ιστορία.
185 pages
First published February 27, 2004
7 people are currently reading
576 people want to read
About the author
Hiner Saleem
1 book22 followersHiner Saleem (also transliterated as Hiner Salim) is an Iraqi–Kurdish film director.
His memoir, My Father's Rifle, has been translated into several languages.
Hiner Saleem was born in the town of Aqrah in Iraqi Kurdistan. He left Iraq at the age of 17, and soon made his way to Italy, where he completed school and attended university. Later on, he moved to France where he lives now.
In 1992, after the First Gulf War, he filmed undercover the living conditions of Iraqi Kurds. This footage was shown at the Venice Film Festival. In 1997, he made his first movie Vive la marie ... et la liberation du Kurdistan. This was followed by the films Passeurs de rêves (Beyond Our Dreams; 2000) Vodka Lemon (2003), Kilomètre Zéro (2005), Dol (2007), and Les Toits de Paris (Beneath the Rooftops of Paris; 2007).
His memoir, My Father's Rifle, has been translated into several languages.
Hiner Saleem was born in the town of Aqrah in Iraqi Kurdistan. He left Iraq at the age of 17, and soon made his way to Italy, where he completed school and attended university. Later on, he moved to France where he lives now.
In 1992, after the First Gulf War, he filmed undercover the living conditions of Iraqi Kurds. This footage was shown at the Venice Film Festival. In 1997, he made his first movie Vive la marie ... et la liberation du Kurdistan. This was followed by the films Passeurs de rêves (Beyond Our Dreams; 2000) Vodka Lemon (2003), Kilomètre Zéro (2005), Dol (2007), and Les Toits de Paris (Beneath the Rooftops of Paris; 2007).
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July 22, 2025Depois de ter contemplado minuciosamente o que restava da nossa casa, ela foi para o jardim. Estava invadido pelas ervas e pelos caules das flores já secas. No pomar, das romãzeiras, figueiras, oliveiras, abrunheiros e videiras só restavam os troncos. Diante de cada árvore decepada, ela parou e chorou, e todos choraram com ela. Eu já não aguentava e voltei para as ruínas da casa. Vi o meu pai, sozinho, de cócoras, um cigarro na mão, e ouvi os seus soluços.
Imaginem serem portugueses mas a vossa nação enquanto território físico e fronteiras fixas não existir. É o que acontece a mais de 30 milhões de curdos que, desde a Primeira Guerra Mundial, têm a sua nação dividida e absorvida por quatro vizinhos: Irão, Síria, Iraque e Turquia, tendo estes dois últimos perpetrado extensos massacres contra esta população apátrida, os quais culminaram no tristemente célebre ataque com gás sarin, ordenado por Saddam Hussein em 1988, que provocou 10 mil mortes.
No começo do ano de 1968, o meu pai passava os seus dias a ouvir a Rádio Bagdad. Eu não percebia uma única palavra de árabe. Mas imaginava que qualquer coisa se estava a passar. Na aldeia, todos os homens tinham as armas sempre à mão (…) Corria o rumor de que o governo nos iria atacar. Toda a gente estava à espera das ordens do nosso chefe, o general Barzani. Bastava uma só palavra, um só sinal dele para que a velha Brno do meu pai estivesse pronta para disparar.
É uma parcela desse calvário que o realizador Hiner Saleem aborda em “A Espingarda do Meu Pai”, um livro em tudo autobiográfico, mas com personagens fictícias. É Azad quem conta a sua história no Curdistão Iraquiano desde que era criança e rematava todos os seus relatos sobre perseguição, expulsão, aculturação e discriminação com “era ainda um miúdo”, até aos 17 anos, quando já ciente da dor do seu povo e prestes a ser detido pelo regime autocrático de Saddam Hussein, fugiu do país deixando toda a sua família para trás.
Sobre o nosso povo abatia-se uma solidão mortal. Éramos atraiçoados pelos americanos, como já fôramos pelos soviéticos; e, num belo dia do mês de Março, Saddam Hussein, o iraquiano, celebrou um tratado com o Xá do Irão: perdíamos o nosso derradeiro apoio. (…) Vi peshmergas [guerrilheiros] suicidarem-se. Alguns queriam resistir, esconder-se nas montanhas, mas o general compreendera que estávamos presos nas malhas duma rede que se fechava: ou aceitávamos a derrota ou era o extermínio. Tomámos o caminho do exílio.
Imaginem serem portugueses mas a vossa nação enquanto território físico e fronteiras fixas não existir. É o que acontece a mais de 30 milhões de curdos que, desde a Primeira Guerra Mundial, têm a sua nação dividida e absorvida por quatro vizinhos: Irão, Síria, Iraque e Turquia, tendo estes dois últimos perpetrado extensos massacres contra esta população apátrida, os quais culminaram no tristemente célebre ataque com gás sarin, ordenado por Saddam Hussein em 1988, que provocou 10 mil mortes.
No começo do ano de 1968, o meu pai passava os seus dias a ouvir a Rádio Bagdad. Eu não percebia uma única palavra de árabe. Mas imaginava que qualquer coisa se estava a passar. Na aldeia, todos os homens tinham as armas sempre à mão (…) Corria o rumor de que o governo nos iria atacar. Toda a gente estava à espera das ordens do nosso chefe, o general Barzani. Bastava uma só palavra, um só sinal dele para que a velha Brno do meu pai estivesse pronta para disparar.
É uma parcela desse calvário que o realizador Hiner Saleem aborda em “A Espingarda do Meu Pai”, um livro em tudo autobiográfico, mas com personagens fictícias. É Azad quem conta a sua história no Curdistão Iraquiano desde que era criança e rematava todos os seus relatos sobre perseguição, expulsão, aculturação e discriminação com “era ainda um miúdo”, até aos 17 anos, quando já ciente da dor do seu povo e prestes a ser detido pelo regime autocrático de Saddam Hussein, fugiu do país deixando toda a sua família para trás.
Sobre o nosso povo abatia-se uma solidão mortal. Éramos atraiçoados pelos americanos, como já fôramos pelos soviéticos; e, num belo dia do mês de Março, Saddam Hussein, o iraquiano, celebrou um tratado com o Xá do Irão: perdíamos o nosso derradeiro apoio. (…) Vi peshmergas [guerrilheiros] suicidarem-se. Alguns queriam resistir, esconder-se nas montanhas, mas o general compreendera que estávamos presos nas malhas duma rede que se fechava: ou aceitávamos a derrota ou era o extermínio. Tomámos o caminho do exílio.
April 30, 2012
This short memoir, with its simply told and clearly translated story, tells of a boyhood in Kurdistan, a nation of people divided between four countries: Iran, Iraq, Turkey, and Syria. The struggle for nationhood and freedom from oppression is told through the point of view of a boy growing into manhood. For readers who take national self-determination for granted, this account will illuminate what millions of refugees and politically disenfranchised peoples around the world experience every day of their lives.
Far from being a political polemic, however, the struggle for freedom is portrayed in the simple desires of a growing boy - to have a safe home among family and friends, in a stable community, where there are many paths to a productive and satisfying adulthood. As we follow the misfortunes of this boy's family, we are witness to the humiliations and perils of living as a despised minority, terrorized and demoralized by a hostile government. There is bravery and courage in the midst of confusion, fear, sorrow, and regret in this excellent story, and it is a portrayal of patriotism well worth reading.
Far from being a political polemic, however, the struggle for freedom is portrayed in the simple desires of a growing boy - to have a safe home among family and friends, in a stable community, where there are many paths to a productive and satisfying adulthood. As we follow the misfortunes of this boy's family, we are witness to the humiliations and perils of living as a despised minority, terrorized and demoralized by a hostile government. There is bravery and courage in the midst of confusion, fear, sorrow, and regret in this excellent story, and it is a portrayal of patriotism well worth reading.
July 7, 2025
This is the Kurdish version of The Kite Runner, though more focused on the history of a nation than a friendship. Compared to The Kite Runner, this story was more relatable and way more engaging—for me.
It's a painful read, but we should go through this pain, once at least, to remind ourselves of our bleak history. Of the dreams we had and where we stand now. Of how after we die, history repeats itself. Of where our new generation is, and of the world’s stance towards us.
The story is the memoir of a child, Azad, born in Kurdistan. We experience, as he grows up, the wars that never end, the massacres that occur, the blood that is shed, and the tears that come more hurtfully than blood. We see defeat after defeat and the rise of new generations of freedom fighters, again, to a future not so unpredictable. We see despair, but no less than that, we also see hope at times; it’s a strange mix of emotions. Life goes on, though people die. the Kurdish dreams live on, though Kurds die. Throughout the story, Azad travels to three quarters of Kurdistan, but he was identified and arrested before crossing over the Iraq-Turkey border.
It was extremely hard to read this book knowing that every bomb that went off, every river that was poisoned, every bird that betrayed its flock were all from my homeland. I have never seen war, but I could easily relate to this book way more than I have ever related myself to a book. I will read this book again, regardless of how many more times it makes me cry inside, because along with the pain and anger, it gives me a sense of identity. Something, again, I never found in other books before.
Some of my favorite parts of the book:
“I longed to watch Kurdish television. I knew that the most important thing for my father was that I become a judge or a lawyer, but my wish was to create a television that would speak our language. I saw myself simultaneously as an inventor, as a maker of shows like Anter and Abla, as a musician and singer. And I vowed that one day I would make that machine speak Kurdish.”
“He—an Arab hotel manager—was a [baath] party member; I sometimes would see him with a group of men and women, always at the same table by the swimming pool, facing my country’s magnificent landscape. Seeing him savor that natural beauty made me jealous. It was as if the hills and mountains were my sisters and brothers and he was mentally undressing them.”
“Every time my brother came home, he and [his friends] would spend hours talking together in the safety of our orchard about the struggle, and about the fact that aside from their mountains, the Kurds had no friends.”
“[O]n my father’s old Russian radio, we heard my brother calling out, in a moving voice, ‘Voice of Kurdistan speaking—’ It was the pirate radio station of the resistance. And once again I heard the national anthem, ‘Ey Raquib her ...,”
“Then [my father] swallowed, fell silent for a long time, and said gently, 'My son, you must go to university. But I don’t want you to become a judge or a lawyer anymore. I talked that way thinking of the time of the king. Today, we’re in another world, the police are hard at work for the people, they even do the work of judges and lawyers. Do what you feel like doing. The important thing is that Azad, Shero Selim Malay’s son, obtain a university diploma.”He stopped, looked me straight in the eye, and added, “Promise?” “I promise,” I answered.”
“He—a Jash—looked at me and I responded with a broad smile, even though deep down I wanted to kill him. To my surprise, he smiled back, and I realized he assumed I was a collaborator!”
It's a painful read, but we should go through this pain, once at least, to remind ourselves of our bleak history. Of the dreams we had and where we stand now. Of how after we die, history repeats itself. Of where our new generation is, and of the world’s stance towards us.
The story is the memoir of a child, Azad, born in Kurdistan. We experience, as he grows up, the wars that never end, the massacres that occur, the blood that is shed, and the tears that come more hurtfully than blood. We see defeat after defeat and the rise of new generations of freedom fighters, again, to a future not so unpredictable. We see despair, but no less than that, we also see hope at times; it’s a strange mix of emotions. Life goes on, though people die. the Kurdish dreams live on, though Kurds die. Throughout the story, Azad travels to three quarters of Kurdistan, but he was identified and arrested before crossing over the Iraq-Turkey border.
It was extremely hard to read this book knowing that every bomb that went off, every river that was poisoned, every bird that betrayed its flock were all from my homeland. I have never seen war, but I could easily relate to this book way more than I have ever related myself to a book. I will read this book again, regardless of how many more times it makes me cry inside, because along with the pain and anger, it gives me a sense of identity. Something, again, I never found in other books before.
Some of my favorite parts of the book:
“I longed to watch Kurdish television. I knew that the most important thing for my father was that I become a judge or a lawyer, but my wish was to create a television that would speak our language. I saw myself simultaneously as an inventor, as a maker of shows like Anter and Abla, as a musician and singer. And I vowed that one day I would make that machine speak Kurdish.”
“He—an Arab hotel manager—was a [baath] party member; I sometimes would see him with a group of men and women, always at the same table by the swimming pool, facing my country’s magnificent landscape. Seeing him savor that natural beauty made me jealous. It was as if the hills and mountains were my sisters and brothers and he was mentally undressing them.”
“Every time my brother came home, he and [his friends] would spend hours talking together in the safety of our orchard about the struggle, and about the fact that aside from their mountains, the Kurds had no friends.”
“[O]n my father’s old Russian radio, we heard my brother calling out, in a moving voice, ‘Voice of Kurdistan speaking—’ It was the pirate radio station of the resistance. And once again I heard the national anthem, ‘Ey Raquib her ...,”
“Then [my father] swallowed, fell silent for a long time, and said gently, 'My son, you must go to university. But I don’t want you to become a judge or a lawyer anymore. I talked that way thinking of the time of the king. Today, we’re in another world, the police are hard at work for the people, they even do the work of judges and lawyers. Do what you feel like doing. The important thing is that Azad, Shero Selim Malay’s son, obtain a university diploma.”He stopped, looked me straight in the eye, and added, “Promise?” “I promise,” I answered.”
“He—a Jash—looked at me and I responded with a broad smile, even though deep down I wanted to kill him. To my surprise, he smiled back, and I realized he assumed I was a collaborator!”
June 5, 2016
This novelette tells the story of Azad, A Kurdish boy living in Iraqi occupied Kurdistan, as the lands of the Kurds are seized and their culture destroyed.
In 1968, eight year old Azad lives in a small village in Iraqi occupied Kurdistan.
He climbs onto rooftops and watches his cousin's homing pigeons eating the juicy pomegranates in his mother's garden.
He swims naked with his friends and brothers in the streams near the village and enjoys the occasional treat of biscuits from the village store. He watches his uncle's television- the first in his village- but he wonders why there all the shows are in Arabic and their are no Kurds on TV.
Azad's tranquil village life is shattered after the Baathist coup of of 1968 which sweeps Ahmed Hassan Al Bakr and Saddam Hussein to power as the new regime begins a campaign of genocidal repression against the Kurds.
Azad's cousin Mamou is hunted down and killed by Iraqi troops and his family flee to a nearby cave where they are, among thousands of Kurds, bombarded by napalm from Iraqi planes.
The family returns home to find their home razed and their and their orchard destroyed.
Azad's father and brothers, with meager arms and supplies join the resistance but Azad and his family are captured and together with hundreds of thousands of Kurds swept into refugee camps.
Azad's small niece dies froma respiratory illness after being refused treatment by the Arab doctor at the local hospital.
Azad eventually leaves Kurdistan for exile in Europe. Many of the family he has left behind are to die in the poison gas attacks ordered by Saddam , or in Iraqi run concentration camps. This is an engaging and moving story about the struggle for freedom of the dispossessed Kurds.
It is a story of a people whose plight has been ignored by the media, and
opinion makers. The Kurds have not had courses taught about their plight and
history at universities. They are not backed by powerful lobbies and pressure groups across the world- as the "Palestinians" are- their have never been any international conferences to highlight their plight, and the opression and genocide of the Kurds by Iraq, Iran, Syria Turkey, and now IS.
has never occupied any time at the United Nations.
In 1968, eight year old Azad lives in a small village in Iraqi occupied Kurdistan.
He climbs onto rooftops and watches his cousin's homing pigeons eating the juicy pomegranates in his mother's garden.
He swims naked with his friends and brothers in the streams near the village and enjoys the occasional treat of biscuits from the village store. He watches his uncle's television- the first in his village- but he wonders why there all the shows are in Arabic and their are no Kurds on TV.
Azad's tranquil village life is shattered after the Baathist coup of of 1968 which sweeps Ahmed Hassan Al Bakr and Saddam Hussein to power as the new regime begins a campaign of genocidal repression against the Kurds.
Azad's cousin Mamou is hunted down and killed by Iraqi troops and his family flee to a nearby cave where they are, among thousands of Kurds, bombarded by napalm from Iraqi planes.
The family returns home to find their home razed and their and their orchard destroyed.
Azad's father and brothers, with meager arms and supplies join the resistance but Azad and his family are captured and together with hundreds of thousands of Kurds swept into refugee camps.
Azad's small niece dies froma respiratory illness after being refused treatment by the Arab doctor at the local hospital.
Azad eventually leaves Kurdistan for exile in Europe. Many of the family he has left behind are to die in the poison gas attacks ordered by Saddam , or in Iraqi run concentration camps. This is an engaging and moving story about the struggle for freedom of the dispossessed Kurds.
It is a story of a people whose plight has been ignored by the media, and
opinion makers. The Kurds have not had courses taught about their plight and
history at universities. They are not backed by powerful lobbies and pressure groups across the world- as the "Palestinians" are- their have never been any international conferences to highlight their plight, and the opression and genocide of the Kurds by Iraq, Iran, Syria Turkey, and now IS.
has never occupied any time at the United Nations.
October 20, 2019
I was watching Golshifteh Farahani's IMDB profile when I saw a Kurdish film, My Sweet Pepper Land on her credit. It was directed by Hiner Saleem. I loved the movie though it won't be very impressive for most of audience. I saw Kurdish life and I discovered this memoir by Hiner Saleem.
Though it seems fictionalised account of Saleem's life but trust me I can feel, it's real. Just some names would have been changed.
Hiner Saleem born in a small town of Aqrah, fought the war since his childhood. War for freedom and identity. Saw many of His loved ones getting killed and disappeared. Saw his family migrating again and again. Most importantly in that life of bloodspill and hate, He kept his feelings for art and literature. Swore to himself that He would fight a different war for His Kurd Nation. He would bring His Kurdish language to the world audience.
He escaped Kurdisstan when He was 17 and later settled in France.
I loved His spot on narration. I loved the intensity of love, He has for His heritage and language.
Though it seems fictionalised account of Saleem's life but trust me I can feel, it's real. Just some names would have been changed.
Hiner Saleem born in a small town of Aqrah, fought the war since his childhood. War for freedom and identity. Saw many of His loved ones getting killed and disappeared. Saw his family migrating again and again. Most importantly in that life of bloodspill and hate, He kept his feelings for art and literature. Swore to himself that He would fight a different war for His Kurd Nation. He would bring His Kurdish language to the world audience.
He escaped Kurdisstan when He was 17 and later settled in France.
I loved His spot on narration. I loved the intensity of love, He has for His heritage and language.
December 17, 2025
هذه السيرة هي «بندقية أبي: طفولة في كردستان» للكاتب الكردي هنر سليم، وهي سيرة ذاتية تُروى بلسان طفل، وتوثّق مرحلة الطفولة في كردستان وسط الاضطرابات والحروب.
تقدّم السيرة صورة إنسانية مؤلمة لطفولة عاشت بين الخوف والفقر والمنفى والسلاح، حيث تصبح البندقية رمزًا حاضرًا في الحياة اليومية، لا بوصفها أداة قتال فقط، بل علامة على واقع قاسٍ يفرض نفسه على الأطفال قبل أن يكتمل وعيهم. يكتب الكاتب بذاكرة حسّاسة، تمتزج فيها براءة الطفولة مع قسوة السياسة والاقتلاع، فيرصد تفاصيل الحياة القروية، والعلاقة بالأب، والخسارات الصغيرة التي تصنع وعيًا مبكرًا بالحياة والموت
تقدّم السيرة صورة إنسانية مؤلمة لطفولة عاشت بين الخوف والفقر والمنفى والسلاح، حيث تصبح البندقية رمزًا حاضرًا في الحياة اليومية، لا بوصفها أداة قتال فقط، بل علامة على واقع قاسٍ يفرض نفسه على الأطفال قبل أن يكتمل وعيهم. يكتب الكاتب بذاكرة حسّاسة، تمتزج فيها براءة الطفولة مع قسوة السياسة والاقتلاع، فيرصد تفاصيل الحياة القروية، والعلاقة بالأب، والخسارات الصغيرة التي تصنع وعيًا مبكرًا بالحياة والموت
November 27, 2021
It was an enjoyable read. It increased my knowledge of what Kurdish people had to go through and how they reacted to these events.
The fact that the story is being told by a child made it special since we don't usually get to see things through the perspective of children.
The fact that the story is being told by a child made it special since we don't usually get to see things through the perspective of children.
April 12, 2021
Word went out that the government was going to attack us. Everyone waited for instructions from our leader, General Barzani. One word, one sign from him, and my father’s Brno was ready to be fired. When the order came, he stood up immediately and grabbed the old Czech rifle. A horse was waiting for him. My father turned to my mother and said, “I’m leaving.” My mother replied. “OK”. I never heard her say any other word when he left.
September 2, 2017
Kurdistan
"That day, we lost seven men in our family. I was still a kid."
"My mother's face had lost it's smile. But I was still a kid."
"But as we waited for freedom, a lot of time went by."
"I saw the alarm on my mother's face, but I didn't attach too much importance to it. I was still a kid."
"War or no war, life continued."
"It's more honorable to die on our own land than to become American immigrants or militiamen working for the shah."
"The more times goes by, the more my heart beats slowly. I was no longer a kid."
"That day, we lost seven men in our family. I was still a kid."
"My mother's face had lost it's smile. But I was still a kid."
"But as we waited for freedom, a lot of time went by."
"I saw the alarm on my mother's face, but I didn't attach too much importance to it. I was still a kid."
"War or no war, life continued."
"It's more honorable to die on our own land than to become American immigrants or militiamen working for the shah."
"The more times goes by, the more my heart beats slowly. I was no longer a kid."
October 27, 2024
Knjiga je dobra ali bi li bi dobro da je napisano više.
December 23, 2017
Uno de los libros más contundentes sobre la vida en Medio Oriente y los cambios que ha sufrido la configuración de los Estados-Nación de esa zona. En él se narra la historia del protagonista, Azad, quien pasa su infancia con la idea de un estado para su gente: el Kurdistán. A lo largo de toda su vida él intentará ser parte de la resistencia kurda y verá como poco a poco sus ideales se ven completamente aplastados por la dictadura de Saddam Hussein y la represión cruel que sufren los kurdos a lo largo de la historia.
Para leer este texto uno debe de comprender que ser kurdo no radica en la raza ni mucho menos en la religión si no más bien en el idioma y en la cultura que ellos han generado gracias a esto. Es un texto imprescindible para aquellos que desean acercarse más al mundo del Oriente Medio y que necesitan comprender que los conflictos que se viven en esa zona no están ligados a la religión.
Para leer este texto uno debe de comprender que ser kurdo no radica en la raza ni mucho menos en la religión si no más bien en el idioma y en la cultura que ellos han generado gracias a esto. Es un texto imprescindible para aquellos que desean acercarse más al mundo del Oriente Medio y que necesitan comprender que los conflictos que se viven en esa zona no están ligados a la religión.
November 21, 2024
Bu kitab gerçekten çok harika ve güzel bir kitabdı. Bu anı yazısı Okumaya fırsatım oldu için çok sevindim. Yani insan nasıl böyle bir şekilde sadece bir kaç kısa sayfalara öyle Bu kadar derin, manalı, ve duygudolu konulardan bahsedebilir gerçekten mükemmel.
Bütün hikaye anlatan bir çocuktur, adı azad, 7 yaşından beri sanıyorum!!hayatında ne olduysa anlatıyor.
Yani gerçekten bu kitabın güzelinden ne kadar söylesem yetmez. O yüzden herkes mutlaka okumanızı gerekiyor, özellikle kürtler.
Bütün hikaye anlatan bir çocuktur, adı azad, 7 yaşından beri sanıyorum!!hayatında ne olduysa anlatıyor.
Yani gerçekten bu kitabın güzelinden ne kadar söylesem yetmez. O yüzden herkes mutlaka okumanızı gerekiyor, özellikle kürtler.
April 2, 2025
Starting as a child, innocent and believing. The book had a similar theme to my last one: the story of humans, raw and real. I feel a little lost writing this review because there is so much I don't know. Historically, culturally, and actually. Stories read in translated languages. Moving and growing because the book showed me something new. With the simple and direct storytelling, from one day to the next, losing people and loved ones all along. Ending with an adult. What do we choose?
November 12, 2025
كتبت هذه السيرة بتقنية سينمائية بحته عن الحياة الكردية. كتبت على طريقة اللقطة المقربة بعدسة كاميرا سينمائي بارع في التقاط الصور من شريط الذكريات الطويل. تتسع ببطء الرؤية في سرد القصة كلما ابتعدت لتتشكل لعين الراصد مصدر كل ألم وفظاعه وخوف وإهانة غير ضرورية!
January 11, 2025
★★★★★/5
Das Buch ist eines meiner Lieblingsbücher und ist so eine schöne Herzzerreißende Geschichte :(
100% Empfehlung.
Das Buch ist eines meiner Lieblingsbücher und ist so eine schöne Herzzerreißende Geschichte :(
100% Empfehlung.
September 29, 2021
Ο σκηνοθέτης Hiner Saleem αφήνει σ αυτό το βιβλίο τις παιδικές του αναμνήσεις που δεν συναντούν πουθενά την αθωότητα, την ανεμελιά, το παιχνίδι. Η μοίρα των Κούρδων, η ιστορία τους, η ζωές τους υπήρξαν πάντοτε σκληρές. Διαβάζεται σαν ξυπνητήρι και μόνο σαν τέτοιο.
June 16, 2007
There’s no arguing that Hiner Saleem, a filmmaker living in Paris and writing in French, is a wonderful storyteller. In the 99 pages of his new memoir, My Father’s Rifle: A Childhood in Kurdistan, he manages to pack in Saddam Hussein, Richard Nixon, and Henry Kissinger; a troubled adolescence, girls, and cigarettes; war, art, and pomegranates. (Lots of pomegranates.) Characters deliver harangues on Kurdish history, Kurdish independence, and Kurdish worthlessness; they deliver harangues on Iraqi history, Iraqi independence, and Kurdish worthlessness. Seven members of his extended family are murdered by page 6, and by the end, we have witnessed our hero’s white-knuckled flight to Syria.
His writing voice is clipped and memorable, as if the ghost of Raymond Carver had been leaning over his shoulder with a red pen -- pppht, pppht -- crossing out all the adjectives and adverbs. It's the sort of voice that keeps poking you in the back. Like the boy pictured on the book’s cover (yes, that’s Saleem), it’s straight-faced but mischievous. It knows more than it says. And, in the way it conflates the personal and historical, giving us one life, wrapping it up, and then giving us another, all the while managing to shoehorn a thousand years into a couple quick paragraphs, it calls to mind another literary influence: Ivo Andric. In The Bridge on the Drina (1945), the Bosnian writer planted his feet on another patch of unusually contested ground and, with great wit and irony, reeled in generation after generation. Unfortunately, though, Saleem doesn’t have the ambition of the Nobel Prize-winner. That in itself is hardly a crime, but neither does he have the insight or the wisdom.
His writing voice is clipped and memorable, as if the ghost of Raymond Carver had been leaning over his shoulder with a red pen -- pppht, pppht -- crossing out all the adjectives and adverbs. It's the sort of voice that keeps poking you in the back. Like the boy pictured on the book’s cover (yes, that’s Saleem), it’s straight-faced but mischievous. It knows more than it says. And, in the way it conflates the personal and historical, giving us one life, wrapping it up, and then giving us another, all the while managing to shoehorn a thousand years into a couple quick paragraphs, it calls to mind another literary influence: Ivo Andric. In The Bridge on the Drina (1945), the Bosnian writer planted his feet on another patch of unusually contested ground and, with great wit and irony, reeled in generation after generation. Unfortunately, though, Saleem doesn’t have the ambition of the Nobel Prize-winner. That in itself is hardly a crime, but neither does he have the insight or the wisdom.
July 22, 2007
A refugee from Kurdistan, now a filmmaker in Paris, recalls his childhood in northern Iraq, before and during the rise of Saddam and the Baath butchers. The narrator, like everyone else, is intent on peacable, everyday life, but becomes little by little aware that that is not so possible an undertaking, as he and his family and neighbors become little by little embroiled in larger events, and manipulated by the fascist Baath operatives. The conflict between optimism and fate is captured in brutally frank statements that describe, in one sentence in a coda that ends the book, what became of the characters of Hiner Saleem's childhood: "...studied architecture in Baghdad and died under torture in 1982...is the father of eleven children...were killed by the chemicals used during the Anfal, Saddam Hussein's campaign to exterminate the Kurds between February 1987 and September 1988... executed by firing squad in 1981 in Mosul...was never seen again after he was taken away by the secret police. His parents believe his body was dissolved in sulfuric acid...lived in the concentration camps..." Particularly poignant, for readers in this country, may be Hiner's narration of the rise and then steady decline of hope that his fellow Kurds derive from American promises of support that were followed by complete betrayal that led to the brutalization of the Kurds by Saddam's forces.
October 2, 2014
Short, yet detailed biography! This book is written from the perspective of a child known as Azad Shero Selim. As a reader you're immediately hit with the turmoil Azad and his family face in an endeavor of survival as Kurds living in Iraq in the 1960's and 70's.
I personally think this book was wonderful to read. There is a lot to be learnt here. There is a strong sense of knowing who you are and what you should fight for that comes through in this short biography.
I personally think this book was wonderful to read. There is a lot to be learnt here. There is a strong sense of knowing who you are and what you should fight for that comes through in this short biography.
February 8, 2016
This was just sad.... I didn't know if I'd be able to continue at the part where he tells what happened to his cousin (the one they tied to a jeep). Because it was so sad and I just had that "what if it happened to someone close to me" in my head. But I did continue. And the thing that shook me up most was that page in the end that tells us what happened to other characters... I cannot believe what human beings are able to do, how very impatient we can be to those that have different cultures.
March 29, 2017
Insightful and informative.
I picked this book up for a research paper on Kurdistan. Initially, I expected the reading to be dry, but soon found myself unable to put the book down and became determined to read onward to the next page. Now that I've finished the book, I'm looking forward to reading more book about the region and learning more. If anyone asked me whether I would recommend this book to a friend, my answer is YES.
I picked this book up for a research paper on Kurdistan. Initially, I expected the reading to be dry, but soon found myself unable to put the book down and became determined to read onward to the next page. Now that I've finished the book, I'm looking forward to reading more book about the region and learning more. If anyone asked me whether I would recommend this book to a friend, my answer is YES.
December 16, 2007
This is the first hand account of a young Kurdish boy growing up in Northern Iraq. The book really informed me of the love the Kurdish people took in their art, poetry, and beautiful landscape, and the trials tribulations and losses they underwent trying to keep them during the Baathist Parties Regeime.
November 21, 2013
This is a touching novella. Saleem tells a simple but sometimes painful story, made more emotive by the truth behind it. Normal pursuits of youth are contrasted with a fight for Kurdish independence. It is laden with imagery; fresh fruit juxtaposed with guns. The prose is beautiful and the story is engaging.
March 10, 2017
He de dir que sabia molt poc sobre el poble kurd i la seua situació abans d'agafar este llibre. Per tant, no sabia si l'entendria de la mateixa manera.
L'he entés. Ha sigut una lectura molt crua i real. La forma en què l'autor explica la repressió d'un poble i la guerra des de la perspectiva d'una persona tan jove m'ha semblat fascinant. És una lectura dura però recomanable.
L'he entés. Ha sigut una lectura molt crua i real. La forma en què l'autor explica la repressió d'un poble i la guerra des de la perspectiva d'una persona tan jove m'ha semblat fascinant. És una lectura dura però recomanable.
August 16, 2012
Poetic. Slices of harsh Kurdish history.
December 16, 2013
Brave. Blunt. Beautiful.
March 22, 2015
Heart breaking, the pain, suffering and tragedy of war and barbarism of politics and paranoia of totalitarian governments.
February 16, 2014
Great job
May 1, 2014
uma história verdadeiramente emocionante contada na primeira pessoa.
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