My father worked for nearly all of the regimes in Iraq as a propaganda calligrapher. He never had a political orientation. Each time an event or reform was about to happen in the government, he would receive an assignment in advance, and the banners would then be hung on the streets of Sulaymaniyah. He delivered them without delay.

Sometimes I had the feeling he was holding the brush and the banners were moving under his brush.

One day, in early 1991, the banners turned from Arabic into Kurdish. That’s when we realized the Kurdish rebellion had taken over the northern part of the country.