Knights of Dialogue
Surah Hasan / Baghdad
I will not write here an article about a city. Rather, I will describe a feeling—one that a visitor cannot experience in any geographical place except in Nineveh and its vast plain.
In a city struggling for a vibrant life that reflects the spirit of its people, I stood before the remains of Nineveh, contemplating its majestic walls that have withstood time, as if guarding the secrets of Assyrian civilization.
In its churches, bells can be heard without anyone throwing stones at them. They are not merely old churches, nor were they for me just a religious visit; they are living testimonies to the history of a city rich in diversity. Visiting them was a source of psychological support for a culture of peace and tolerance, and a personal acknowledgment from me—as someone just beginning to explore the beauty of Mosul’s enchanting heritage and the captivating Nineveh Plain that steals hearts and eyes alike. Yes, it is a place that has proven to the world that it can rise again despite everything it has endured.
What a brutal occupation it suffered, what a dark assault by the ravens of evil, and how many attacks throughout its history—from Assyria until today—this land has resisted, only to return blooming with its people.
It is an invitation to reflection, appreciation, and participation in preserving this great civilizational and spiritual heritage. It is land, stone, and people from which the visitor draws the strength of the winged bull, returning renewed, stronger, and better.
With every street in Nineveh, I felt that there is something here worth living for in this country, worth remaining for despite all the difficulties this city has faced. It has returned standing tall, pulsing with life once again—a sense of belonging to the homeland and love present in every house, every street, and every glance in the eyes of its people, where pride and dignity in belonging to this nation are clearly visible.
Since childhood, I had heard about this city that I always wished to visit. Now I am here among the eyes of its people, moving like a butterfly from one flower to another, with homes welcoming us openly, as if protected by divine watchfulness.
Everything I had heard about it and seen on television and social media was nothing more than a lifeless image. But visiting it is an entirely different experience. When you walk through its streets, you find the familiar Iraqi character present everywhere, from the far north to the far south.
The generosity and warm hospitality that awaited us were remarkable—eyes eager to welcome the guest and tables filled with food, beginning in the home of Imad Qusay, one of the prominent figures of the Nineveh Plain. The women of the household and their mastery of cooking made us feel as if we were on another planet.
Twenty of us slept and ate with them in their home. They hosted us with joy, without fatigue or boredom, along with evening gatherings during which we listened to stories of dark days they had lived through—days they overcame with stories of resistance and crowned with the joy of liberation in which all Iraqis took part.
They welcomed us as a diverse group from all over Iraq, without distinction of religion or sect, and without asking where we came from. At our reception was Um Imad, who prepared all the traditional Shabak dishes for us with her daughters and daughter-in-law. The flavors were unforgettable, beyond the ability of words to describe. The food was not offered merely on plates or in cups; it was served with warmth, embraces, and the smiles of mothers and sisters, filled with love.
They were wonderful nights, full of conversations and beautiful stories about the Nineveh Plain and the character of its people.
Days that will remain suspended outside the calendar, recorded on a page of resistance to oblivion, sealed with immortality.
