Autumn bids farewell as leaves are carried by harsh winds and fall to the ground. At the heart of this silent encounter, we set out toward Girê Sîser, part of the Garê area. The view that greets us at the foothills of Girê Sîser offers a beauty beyond words.
Sîser reveals a different face in every season, and experiencing this beauty firsthand evokes an entirely different feeling. As we move toward the summit through the yellowing forest, the wind sets the leaves dancing, and each leaf that falls upon us adorns the earth with its own colors. One cannot help but wonder, “Is there a more beautiful corner of paradise than this?”
A guerrilla accompanies us: Militan Qoser. The journey we make under his guidance is arduous yet mesmerizing. During the four-hour climb, we were forced to stop and rest perhaps ten times, while Comrade Militant, seasoned through practice, showed no sign of fatigue. As we struggled to keep pace with him, our breath grew short; our legs went numb, and we could feel the rhythm of our hearts beneath our skin.
Every hundred meters, guerrilla Militan lifted our spirits by saying, “Forty minutes left,” though this was, in truth, a guerrilla joke. Caught between the warmth of the sun and the excitement of reaching Sîser, our vision began to blur and our minds to wander. After all, enduring a measure of hardship to experience something beautiful may well be the essence of love itself.
With every step closer to Sîser, I find myself asking, “How many guerrillas have passed along these paths?” and “How many times have sacrifices been made in these mountains for the defense of our homeland and our existence?” As these questions circle in my mind, my sense of anticipation only grows.
The word Sîser means “on the shadow” or “shaded.” True to its name, its northern side lies in shadow, while its southern face is illuminated by the sun. When we reach the summit, the unique panorama of the Media Defense Areas unfolds before our eyes: to the north, the Zagros, Zap, Cîlo, and Metina regions; to the south, Girê Xêrê and the Mosul Plain, where Derwêş, driven by his love of freedom, once spurred his horse Hedban forward at full gallop.
The northern face of Gire Sîser is a sheer cliff, while its southern slopes are covered with lava stones. Sharp and riddled with hollows, the summit appears almost impossible to climb; yet the guerrilla always finds a path. At the foothills lie shikefts (caves) where people lived thousands of years ago. Gazelles, squirrels, rabbits, wild boars, wolves, bears, and countless bird species inhabit this terrain. As we pass among oak acorns, walnut trees, green almonds, and hawthorn, the air fills with the scent of countless healing plants, soothing to the soul and seeping deep into one’s being.
Our ten-day journey in Gire Sîser was both arduous and exhilarating. Carrying supplies with mules, finding a single drop of water on the summit, gathering firewood, digging war tunnels, these hardships are what make the guerrilla a guerrilla. Each fighter learns revolutionism and patriotism, commitment and will, through this struggle. The revolutionary burden carried on the shoulders of young guerrillas becomes a source of life and a light of hope.
Two concepts stand out here: the mountain and the guerrilla. Neither has meaning without the other. This is a symbiotic relationship, an unconditional journey of love. Immortalized throughout history in folk songs, ballads, epics, and books, this bond is a legacy of patriotism and humanity. Apoists… the yellow-clad ones… comrades… the paradise mountains of our homeland…