He writes history as poetry
Yousif Afrim is 96. His sight has almost gone, but his memory never rests – and his words become poems.
Leaning on his walking stick, he moves quietly forward. With his words and his poems he writes history as poetry. His eyesight has weakened so far that it has almost gone, but his inner sight never fails him, and his clear, living memory seems never to rest.
”His inner sight never fails him.”
His family came from a village near Midyat in Turkey, a village known for making clay pots. The distinctive red earth of that village was turned into clay and worked with care before it was shaped and fired into pottery. The pots and other clay vessels were then sold on to the surrounding villages.
The family was forced to cross the border into Syria after his father and his uncle were called up for military service. Cholera, malaria and typhoid were raging at the time and took countless lives. The death toll was so high that on some days seven people were buried.
The family settled in al-Qahtaniyah, where Yousif, through hard work and perseverance, eventually managed to open a shop of his own in the city of al-Qamishli. Later he emigrated to Sweden, where he worked until he retired.
Today he lives a calm, secure and dignified life. Even so, there is one thing he still misses – the warmth, the closeness and the sense of community that once marked the way people were with one another.
Text: Malkon Malkon
