Though he never had a political orientation, my father worked in Iraq as a propaganda calligrapher. Each time an event or reform happened, he would receive an assignment. He delivered without delay, and the banners would then be hung in the streets of Sulaymaniyah. Sometimes I had the feeling he only held the brush and the banners moved under it. One day, in early 1991, the banners turned from Arabic into Kurdish. That’s when we realized the Kurdish rebellion had taken over the northern part of the country.
