Comrade Koçero was neither a bandit wandering the mountains nor a bloodthirsty smuggler. Nor was he the embodiment of a life destined to be immortalized in the songs of artists. He was a young Kurdish university student who went to the mountains consciously and passionately, not because of an accidental firing of a Kurdish rifle but by declaring, “If the decree belongs to the oppressors, then the mountains belong to the Kurds.” He never abandoned the search for truth until his last breath. When he chose the path of freedom, countless Kurdish university students followed in his footsteps. He became the name of defiance against the university education offered to him and against the dead life of Izmir. The system, ruled by money and arrogance, could not halt his objection and his march.
While Kurdish lands were under occupation and attack, while their very existence and fundamental democratic rights were ignored and denied, while millions of Kurds with bloodstained hands and dreams were forcibly uprooted from their own lands and driven into displacement, while mothers resisted on the mountain slopes where the earth carried the scent of their children, how could he remain at ease? How could he continue his studies with calmness and serenity, as though nothing were happening? In a country where the economy was drowned in profiteering and corruption, the judiciary collapsed, education decayed, and countless cases of child labor and femicide occurred daily, how could comrade Koçero live in comfort and peace?
Comrade Koçero clearly saw the era he lived in and the reality surrounding him. He neither believed the official statements repeated daily nor became a slave to fear. He became the name of defiance and resistance against those who prepared lifeless existences and imposed them on the people. He bowed to no tyranny. Without succumbing to money, position, or ambition, he turned his face to the mountains of Kurdistan and lifted his eyes to the clear skies, setting out to reach his comrades. Along the way, he carried countless Kurdish university students to the heart of freedom. As he often said, “When I searched for a story to tell my friends, the one I most wanted to share was the guerrilla life and the comradeship created in the mountains.” In the end, he reached both his dream and the comrades he loved most.
The Kurdish people, forced to live on the edge of an abyss, had a desperate need for countless conscious and educated pioneers. To answer this reality, he turned his face to the fire of freedom lit in the mountains. He left the city in order to fan that fire, to expand hope even further. He could no longer endure the suffocating atmosphere of the city that felt too narrow and strangling to him. Without a moment of hesitation, without a second thought, he joined the struggle to be breath and life to those who walked at the very front.
In a short time, with his analytical perspective and sharp intelligence, comrade Koçero succeeded in becoming a wise teacher of the guerrilla and the mountains. Once trained, he began to provide concrete, realistic, and fluent education. He became the eyes, heart, determination, and mind of thousands of comrades. To his companions, he gave his intellect, his heart, and his sincere, pure convictions. One Koçero became thousands.
When he finally saw President Öcalan, whom he most longed to meet, he firmly believed that he had found the truth he had sought, dreamed of, and yearned to discover. With immense joy and excitement for life, he embraced the day and his responsibilities. Among his comrades, all eyes were upon him. Everyone knew well that he was President Öcalan’s nephew, and they also knew that this carried a great responsibility.
During the period of liquidation, he did not choose the path of the liquidators, even though one of his relatives was among them, but instead chose the path of President Öcalan. Taking on a heavy responsibility that not everyone could bear, he based his bond with President Öcalan not on kinship, but on ideology. Those who knew Comrade Koçero closely, who shared comradeship with him, understood well that there was no other way for him to commit or to walk this path.
We first encountered comrade Koçero in Garê, together with Commander Nubar. It was after returning from the effort to extinguish a fire that had broken out on the mountains in the scorching summer heat. Even in the midst of flames, smoke, and a breathless struggle, amid all the rush and chaos, drenched in blood and sweat—he still managed to smile. With every word and every gesture, it was clear that he was a sincere, genuine, and profoundly humble comrade. Not once did we feel any doubt about our revolutionary judgment of him. In the blazing mountains, we had found the smiling face and the beating heart of the revolution.
comrade Koçero was a pair of eyes that always smiled in comradeship, an honest and sincere claim to freedom. He cast aside the university campuses and the glittering life of Izmir, choosing instead to wear the Kurdish shalwar (traditional Kurdish trousers), carry the weapon of guerrilla freedom, and walk the mountains as a wise teacher and he did so with honor. Could anyone meet him and not become his comrade? Could anyone remain untouched by his revolutionary stance and his words?
We always called him “the beating heart and the smiling face of the revolution.” Comrade Koçero encouraged us to join the ongoing academic education. Could such a revolutionary request from such a valuable comrade ever be refused? His sincere, comradely proposal was for us an unquestionable duty. During the revolutionary education process, we met him a few times and had the chance and privilege to benefit from his wisdom-filled teaching. Later, throughout our continuing journey in Rojava, we encountered him many times again. Meeting him, speaking with him, sharing knowledge and experience with him was always a source of great joy. Who could forget his problem-solving, helpful, internationalist comradeship? It is unforgettable.
Can a person truly be so pure, honest, selfless, hardworking, and humble? When he told the short story of his life and struggle in the style of a personal testimony during a conversation, it was immediately clear how rich he was in experience and how deeply he possessed philosophical knowledge. In Rojava, the respect, revolutionary depth, and quality he displayed in his relationship with Commander Nûreddîn Sofî, formed through duty, were remarkable and worthy of learning from. In every practice and every moment of his relationships with both commanders and fighters, in how he shared tasks and worked collectively, there was always a lesson to be drawn.
The respect and loyalty he showed to his commanders should be seen as the very first lesson to be learned. Similar qualities could easily be observed in the way he related to his fighters as well. In the face of almost every problem, he was sensitive, solution-oriented, and constructive. His relationships with both revolutionaries from Turkey and internationalist comrades were equally exemplary. There is no one who met him, spoke with him, or came to know him who was not touched by his profound comradeship, his pure humanity, and his sensitivity. The way he lived was the way he dreamed; the way he envisioned life was the way he practiced comradeship and the way he educated others. The way he spoke and wrote was also the way he lived.
No matter how we try to describe or write about comrade Koçero and comrade Nûreddîn Sofî, we will never be able to repay our revolutionary debt to them. As we send them the most heartfelt songs of resistance and struggle, and our strongest comradeship filled with gratitude and longing, we say: Oxir be rêhavele heja! (Farewell, precious comrade!) Oxîr be fermanderamê yê mezin! (Farewell, our great commander!).