Sinjar and Mosul, Iraq, 2015-2017.

This is a selection of photographs taken during the last two years. Through this ongoing work, I am questioning the duality between dream and disillusion, representation and reality but also quest for identity, the paradoxes in an ideology and the effects of propaganda.

                 personal thoughts on my notebook


She bore the name of a flower: Gulchin. Her real name being Munire Mina. She had left Iran at the age of 15. She is now in the Sinjar Mountains where time seems suspended in the ruins since the August 2014 massacres on the Yazidi community. In her party, love and sexual relationships are forbidden. Some women have secret abortions. They seem frozen in an abandoned setting, their stares lost towards death. Munire Mina died in 2016. She stepped on a mine. She was 23.

Like Munire, many other young underage girls have left their family for serving a party. They all dream of a new future with a good life by becoming a soldier. On Bashiqa front line, near Mosul, the teenagers from Iran who look like children are carrying cuddly toys and rifles. When asked if they are minors, the leader of their party, responds with embarrassment: "This generation is like that, their faces do not show their true age."

These young soldiers are often put forward as valorous warriors by their party for their propaganda - an image enthusiastically forwarded by western media. They are illustrated in an entirely different reality. Far from the war staged for the media and its subsequent treatment of violence, the conflict is looming. Immersed in this war, the young recruits feel that they are embodying this image of strong, independent woman who has been sold to them. However, the leader perpetuates the patriarchal aspect that had caused them to flee their homes in Iran: instead of being at home to take care of household tasks, they fill sacks of earth to reinforce the lines that only men will cross for going to the battle. So what do these girls, who fight Daesh with AK-47s marked "Mama I love you", do in this war? Naim has long black tightly attached hair and a wise and reserved child's face. She said she is 18 but looks 13. Naim is a few kilometers from Mosul. She runs to a forgotten toy, a white plastic house with a coral roof - a childhood lost too early.

In the blazing desert of my loneliness 

thousands of solitary trees

have grown.

Abbas Kiarostami
Using Format