Knights of Dialogue / 24
Sura Hasan / Baghdad

On a quiet southern night, as the world around me drifted to sleep, I completed my preparations to join my colleagues on a bus that would take us to Al-Qurna—a city I had heard of but never visited, and I hadn’t even bothered to search for it online. Its name had crossed my path back in middle school… Nothing had stuck in my memory except that it is a city in Basra and that the rivers Tigris and Euphrates meet there to form Shatt al-Arab.

Amidst the darkness of the night, we headed there, and at a calm southern dawn, with the gentle chirping of birds mingling with the murmuring waters, we arrived. Here is Al-Qurna, a city of magic and romance.

It is not merely a point where waters meet, but a place where the soul meets history, and humanity meets nature. Which Venice!? Which Paris!? Which planet could compete with this spot? Come here and see for yourself.

Upon arrival, the city was quietly breathing. Birds began to awaken with the call to prayer, starting their daily journey along the riverbanks.

We sat together, from the highest peak of Sinjar to the far end of Al-Faw, our eyes in wonder. Where should we look first? To the sky embracing the first rays of light, to the first sunlight hitting the land, or to the unique embrace of the Tigris and Euphrates at this very point!?

I walked east, scooped up a handful of Tigris water, smelled it, and sipped it like a thirsty soul quenching its long thirst. Then I ran about ten meters west, grabbed a handful of Euphrates water, and repeated the scene. Each river carried its own distinct fragrance and taste!

Back at the meeting point where the waters merged… Oh God, the third sip of water, a different scent and a new flavor—I think that sip was the elixir of life.

We sat on the banks where the two rivers meet, contemplating nature and the beauty of the scene, waiting for the sunrise to fully unfold. Dawn painted its threads in a magical scene.

In this place, the experience is spiritual, transporting you between two worlds: one, where everyone around you lives; the other, where the Creator’s artistry paints a landscape that almost speaks. Here I wished to have all my loved ones with me. When the water reflected the colors of dawn amidst the calm, the scene resembled a painting in a global museum, only interrupted by our voices and laughter, reminding us of our love for Iraq, which unites us across all colors, religions, and backgrounds.

Standing at the confluence, I felt as if I was at the boundary between two different stories. The Tigris, coming from the north, carries the chill of the mountains, while the Euphrates, flowing through plains and valleys, meets it here to begin a beautiful tale: the birth of Shatt al-Arab. The river’s breeze carries a fragrant message, taking us to the true meaning of a beautiful experience and a breathtaking view, witnessing the Knights of Dialogue and their awe at Iraq’s natural beauty.

I observed their faces, each reflecting the river differently. In Alifa’s eyes, the strong girl from Sinjar, I saw a heavenly mirror reflecting her childhood nostalgia. She smiled silently, as if whispering secrets to the river meant for no one else.

Meanwhile, Ibrahim, bearing the pride of the Qahtani tribe and eager to return for ceremonies in Sanjaq, watched the river and prayed to God with the sunrise, like a monk from an ancient legendary tale, carried to us with the gentle river waves.

The others were like tales from One Thousand and One Nights. They brought out their cameras and captured the sun, dawn, river, and Shatt with passion—not just photographing water or trees, but trying to capture emotions and moments of silence when words fail to describe beauty. True beauty, they learned, is not seen with the eyes but felt.

At sunrise, the children of the sun began performing folk dances, singing softly. Their collective voices made it seem as though the river itself was joining in, and the joy kept growing.

The most beautiful part of the journey was not only the places but the collective spirit that united us as friends. We laughed, took photos, learned new things, and each of us left with an unforgettable memory.

On the way back, exhausted but with hearts full of joy, I realized that journeys do not only change what we see—they change something inside us, bringing us closer together and opening doors to new ways of understanding the world and life.

Masarat