A gale of resistance was sweeping Northern Kurdistan. In Sur, Cizir, Gever, Hezex, and Nisêbîn… A shocked Turkish state would be brought to its knees. Street by street, house by house the youth of Northern Kurdistan would protect their honor against the invading enemy. Ingraining their names into history, an exhausted people would be revived with the idea of autonomy, of a life worth living. Thus, the resistance would begin.
Written by Martyr Zeryan Deniz Amed, a commander of the resistance, the translated Şırnex diaries will become a window to the reality of the heroes on the ground.
“Bury the martyrs in your heart, not in the ground,” the Peoples’ Leader Abdullah Öcalan.
These days are very busy and tiring. The air in the city made me feel uncomfortable. Sometimes I have trouble breathing. I fell yesterday. They gave me a serum. I stood up with the medicine. Now I’m fine. They are forcing me not to do anything. Things are bad in Cizre. We can’t get healthy information. My mind is always with Axin, Raperin, and Ruken. What happened to them?
We saw burned bodies on the Internet. I did not recognize them. It’s coal-black. The funerals are unidentified. They’re unrecognizable, terrible… they are like a coal, but there is no reaction. It has become normalized for people who are shown these kinds of images. The age where morality has hit rock-bottom.
We are where the word ends, I want to do something, but we’re not helpless. Today I spoke to comrade Armanç, I miss the warmth of his voice.
I even missed our busy and complicated communications through the device. I sat down and listened to calls and guerrilla voices.
Density is everywhere. Panic in some eyes, fear. It is apparent, this war will be like Kobane’s. So, again, we will be alone, clashing. So be it. I carry great peace inside. There is no frustration in carrying the heavy responsibilities of history. I’m ready for anything. My only fear is not to be worthy, because it is not enough to resist, to die. We must always go beyond. Because historical personalities do not expect commands.
Anyway… I want to find time to write. But I can’t get a chance.
Something always accumulates in me. My heart misses exploding, I’m compensating with a pen. I’m fine, I’m good by fighting, the revolution, I will better as I win.
The explosion sounds were heard towards the evening. A basic vision thermal imager was detonated in ………….
A little further away there was a rocket attack on a cobra-type vehicle. We still don’t know the results.
I’m becoming increasingly aware of the importance of individual roles. Sometimes the right word can pave the way for many truths, but mistakes that we call small can erase many truths. Therefore, the roles we play as individuals determine a historical process. Now I’m going to design new works as I get to the job. I also focus on building a system and being organized. Leaving a tiring day behind, we have a nice sunny day…
I stopped by a few neighborhoods, held a meeting with the commandership. Sometimes very negative styles can come to the fore. The problems that can be easily overcome are magnified like a mountain. They are linked to process intensification, this process must be directed to hit the brain completely. A few friends suggested a bouncer action. Comrades H and A said. Well, who should my heart burn for? This is the only spirit that can save the process. Sacrifice, it is.
Yesterday, they targeted a point called the police academy. The enemy was heavily hit but we have martyrs. 5 friends were martyred. Yilmaz, Xwinrej, Kocer, Agir, and Rojbin. There are images, they were laying like that. A guerrilla’s chest is ripped open, looking out to infinity. Black holes in their bodies…
Comrade Yılmaz and I were always together this year. We practically worked together.
He was in my review, he was very warm when I last saw him. And others. It’s hard to see the pictures of those smiles scattered on the floor behind the wall. And I will fight again to not see the photos of Kurdish youths who have been shot and sprinkled to the ground.
And Asia… our Rojbin. I still can’t believe it. How could death stop such a mercurial life? How could a bullet get stuck in that powerful heart of yours? We talked and discussed last. She spoke for long, I listened. But her concentration was strong and good. She had proposed a sacrifice action. She could have toppled the target alone, my sacrificial Rojbin.
I heard of her martyrdom too late, I’m so angry, I should have gone as soon as I heard. But they already took her. I was going to kiss her for the last time. I was going to wipe the blood off your face, but I didn’t, I couldn’t say goodbye, I couldn’t kiss you. I will always take care of your fellowship, I will not leave your blood on the ground, I swear.
Despite everything, the struggle will continue…
The intensity of the studies continues. I miss the mountains, the guerilla. I’m staring at Cudi. I’m waving from here, inside the Resistance. To be like mountains, to be pure …
My brain is full speed, but I still have room to fit. On one side is the problems caused by the anxious postures created by this war, and the other side is the lives walking with sacrificial determination. I will always walk with that truth. With the martyrs…
Barricades, ditches, mines, bullets from everywhere. People who have been shot. And I don’t want peace, I want freedom. I want to do whatever it takes for freedom. It is ridiculous to ask for peace from those who impose war on us. There is a lack of consciousness of freedom and conscience of the spirit. This is reflected in the mind.
Freedom again… Freedom…
Martyr Zeryan Deniz Amed
to be continued…