Dildar Loqman – Activists
The same individual who frequently appears on television programs, openly declaring that he has spent millions and that he is the President—while I, in contrast, would be content simply to become the son-in-law of Masrour Barzani. In such a scenario, our honeymoon would take place in Paris; we would spend a few days in the United States residing in my father-in-law’s palace, go shopping for designer clothes in Italy, purchase fragrances in France, and attend major football matches in Spain. Turkey, for us, would feel like a second home—its doors perpetually open to members of the Barzani family. We would regularly travel there, even if just to take photographs. At that time, Arin would be considered my son. Due to our closeness in age, we would relate more like friends. Together with Masrour’s daughter, we would stroll the streets of London, driving a black SUV, accompanied by a police dog assigned for our security.
We would escape the dusty and polluted air of Erbil; after breakfast, we would go horseback riding with Arin, and in the afternoons, we would visit my relatives by boat along the Barzan River. I have heard that my prospective father-in-law greatly enjoys playing dominoes. I would often spend the evenings playing alongside him, although I would always refrain from winning with a double-six, out of caution and respect. I would no longer need to purchase mobile credit, as my uncle-in-law owns the telecommunications company. At that point, I would gather my extended family and friends and provide them with multiple residences and even security units.
Despite these aspirations, my friends consistently advise me to remain silent and not express such feelings publicly. They warn me of the dangers involved, saying: “Do not provoke them—this is not a matter to take lightly. That is the home of a religious figure.” That was enough to instill hesitation. Still, I speak truthfully when I say (I swear by the tobacco tree of Mullah Mustafa) that I genuinely desire this life.
The core dilemma lies in gaining the approval of her father—without his consent, I am not sure I would even be acknowledged as a suitor. She is the daughter of a global statesman, someone whose image I can only admire through a digital screen. To date, I have never encountered my prospective father-in-law in person. I have only seen members of the family once, at a university graduation ceremony attended by her brother. On that occasion, my future grandfather-in-law appeared genuinely pleased.
Nonetheless, I am confronted with a significant uncertainty: I do not know to whom I should formally present my request. I have considered approaching a few religious figures, but friends have warned me against it. “Dildar,” they said, “do not pursue this. Mullah Ismail spent many years in prison, and now Mullah Soran Tawheedi is also incarcerated.” I even contemplated seeking help from journalists and civil society activists, but their responses were unequivocal: “Absolutely not. Do not even mention the names Sherwan Sherwani or his associates.”
I have thought long and hard about how to proceed. Perhaps I could present myself with a group of Turkish soldiers and fashion models to impress the family. They might say, “Well done, Masrour—your son-in-law is an admirable man.” It seems that the Badinan region has already been filled with Turkish soldiers, while the Erbil side is saturated with fashion models.
In the end, they simply told me:
“Dildar, your task is complete.”