The Current

Iraqi Kurds set to vote on independence referendum

"The idea of the referendum is for Kurdistan to be a force for good."
People celebrate in Kirkuk, on Sept. 11, to show their support for the controversial independence referendum scheduled for Sept. 25, 2017. (Ako Rasheed/Reuters)

Independence has long since been a dream for Iraq's Kurdish people. On Sept. 25, they are set to vote in a referendum on independence in the autonomous region.

The vote, however, is controversial.

There are strong objections from Iraq's central government, the UN Security Council, and countries including Turkey, Iran and the U.S., who fear the vote will destabilize the region as the military's fight against ISIS seems headed towards victory.

Kurdish-Canadian journalist Ayub Nuri grew up in Iraq, amidst the violence of Saddam Hussein's regime and the Iran-Iraq war. He has spent the last year and a half reporting on the fight against ISIS. 

The idea of the referendum is for Kurdistan to be a force for good.- Ayub Nuri

Journalist Ayub Nuri, near Mosul during an offensive against ISIS. His new memoir is called Being Kurdish In A Hostile World. (Ayub Nuri)

Nuri says Kurds have been longing for this upcoming vote for almost a century.

"The referendum is not an opportunistic attempt by the Kurds to say, 'Iraq is unstable, let's separate,'" Ayub Nuri tells The Current's Friday host Susan Ormiston.

"It has been in the making for many years, for almost a 100 years."

The reporter and author of Being Kurdish In A Hostile World, who has seen much violence in his life, yearns for a peaceful referendum.

"The idea of the referendum is for Kurdistan to be a force for good, and we hope that it will go without any bloodshed and people who are against it will realize sooner or later that it might be better for everyone."

When he was a child, Nuri's family was living in a refugee camp in Iran, but when Saddam Hussein's army dropped chemical weapons on their hometown of Halabja, Iraq, in 1988, Nuri thought his father, sister and brother were among the 5,000 dead.

Ayub Nuri (on his father's lap) with his family in a refugee camp in Iran in the 1980s. (Ayub Nuri)

He thought they were travelling in the region at that time. Luckily, they had escaped, but this news took a week to get to the rest of the family back in Iran.

When Nuri's family returned to Halabja four years after the chemical attack, he was 12. He describes the city as "a jungle" — a place of unexpected danger.

"I call it a poisonous legacy," Nuri tells Ormiston.

"When we came back, so many animals had taken over the city, especially snakes. Many people died of venomous snakes — one of our neighbours, my father's own cousin."

Ayub Nuri at the wall in the ancient Erbil citadel, 2002. (Ayub Nuri)

Nuri started working as a journalist ahead of the 2002 U.S.-led invasion of Iraq. Personally, he welcomed the U.S. taking a decisive role in overthrowing Saddam Hussein.

"It was going to be a new country for all," says Nuri.

"But in less than a year after the regime overthrow, there was a bloody sectarian war ... and on top of that, there was a resistance against the U.S. invasion."

At this point, Nuri finds it hard to see a stable future for Iraq.

"I am mostly pessimistic about Iraq," he says.

"I have really lost hope about many things. But I think you cannot live without hope. It will only make it worse. I see bad things every single day in my life as a journalist on the ground, and then I think I need a little bit of hope in order to survive."

Listen to the full conversation near the top of this web post.

This segment was produced by The Current's Karin Marley.