My father was an oak tree in Marivan! The army burned him! My mother was dried! and me…

In my work, I often talk with objects or things (tree, water, ice). In one of my performances, titled “My father is an oak tree, my mother is drying out and I…?”, I spoke for ten hours with an oak tree at the Nomadic Arts Festival in Poland. With my performance, my focuses on the border of Kurdistan, where military violence against nature and people has caused their displacement and devastated the natural landscape. Hundreds of thousands of oak trees have burned in the past 40 years of this violence. Throughout this work, objects function as symbols for a particular way of life, giving visibility to a place that is more sensitive to nature. There is strong love between nature and people on the borders of Kurdistan.

Concept: In this performance, I spoke with an oak tree in Poland for ten hours, standing, without pause. The performance ran from 8pm until 6am. There was no prepared script – I simply spoke about the Islamic regime in Iran and about the war in Kurdistan. Specifically, I spoke of Marivan, where the army, over a period of 30 years, burned down all the oak trees. I also spoke about the regime and the dictator in Iran, and about the genocide and horrible war, about government action against Kurds, about freedom and the imprisoned Kurdish activists who were killed by the regime. I spoke of my childhood, growing up during the war, about my Persian and Tur­kish teacher in school, who carried weapons during classes, and about the lives of myself and my parents.

Action: The performance begins at dusk, just as it is getting dark. I speak to the audience in Kurdish. In Iran it is forbidden for students to speak my mother tongue. I walk to the tree, and the audience follows me. They carry water to throw on the tree here in Charciabalda, close to Warsaw. I will stay here tonight, 12 it will be cold, but I have warm clothes to protect me. I will not move until tomorrow morning.

The last of the audience members arrive, along with two or three of their children, and throw their water onto the tree. We are here today, trying to put out a fire. In my country, the trees are burning.

One day I hope to show this performance in Marivan and Sarwawa. Hundreds of trees are burned down each year in Marivan and Sarwawa.

Transcription:

You, tree, do not know me. I am just one person, who has come from very far away, to speak with you in a lan­guage that many in my home country have been executed for speaking. The teacher Farzad Kamangar [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Farzad_Kamangar] and thousands of others paid the price in Iran.

Here in Charciabalda it is beautiful, peaceful. There are children and artists everywhere.

Isis declared war on Kurdistan and kidnapped the Kurdish women. A child plucked a leaf from a tree. I gave the child another leaf. It was a very beautiful scene. When I was a child, there was a terrible war. Thousands of Kur­dish people were killed for wanting freedom. I come from the very remote territory of Kurdistan. The military set the forests on fire – millions of trees burned down. We couldn’t do anything about it. Unable to do anything about it. You, Marivan, you are full of these strong trees, and you are our history. These trees are our best and most beautiful friends in the mountains.

Farazad’s last moments were full of strength and resistance. The activists speaking for our people were execut­ed. You, tree, I speak my native tongue to you. When I see you, I see your energy. Tree, hear me. The tree in Marivan burnt down. Tree, do you know the oak trees in Kurdistan were burned down by the military? We are the dirty, muddy children of Mirawa.

As a child I carried art inside of me. Through art I am free. I don’t know what the forests will be like in 100 years in Marivan and Sarwawa. I am wondering. War is a cancer. There should be a cure for this cancer-war. Maybe the once green-forested mountains will have no trees in the future. Please, tree, send energy through the earth with your roots. Send a message to our burning trees in Mariwean and Sarwawa. We need them. Tree, You, oak tree in Poland, send your energy to Zaynab Jalalian ’s blinded eyes. [Zainab Jalalian is a Kurdish activist who is serving life imprisonment, who was blinded by the police in prison]. When anyone, in Sarwawa and Marivan, hears news that the forests are burning, old or young, no matter where, like angels of resurrection they run to the woods, trying to put out the fire. They understand their energy comes from the trees. Oh, dictator, oh fascist!