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This is actually a shortened version of a piece I made after the 2007 wildfires that consumed 500,000 acres and 1,500 homes, but in light of the recent station fire I thought it would be nice to republish it to show that the people that lost their homes in the last ring of deadly fires have not been forgotten.

A follow-up lecture on life in the Kurdish refugee camps in Iraq at the Bade Museum at the Pacific School of Religion. Berkeley, CA.

My last 5 days included 5,000 miles of flying and more than 300 miles of driving. I went from a photography awards ceremony and reception at the National Geographic Society in DC, followed by a gallery opening and a meeting with the Senior Photo Editor at National Geographic the next day, to a red-eye flight back to the west coast to shoot a 50th Wedding Anniversary party in Seal Beach and then to Santa Barbara to attend one of my good friends wedding receptions. At least I'm keeping busy...

I wanted to send out a quick update to let everyone know that I received the Award of Distinction (aka 2nd place) in the Travel Category at FotoweekDC! My winning photo (above) will be on display all week at the Fotoweek Central 1 Gallery in Georgetown if anyone is in the area.

Washington DC was a whirlwind of a two-day trip. I did a little of the touristy sightseeing including the Mall and all of it's monuments and the National Cathedral. But, the second day led to the most valuable part of the whole trip. I realized that one of the judges - the Senior Photo Editor at National Geographic - was also a friend of my photojournalism mentor Rick Meyer. I couldn't find an email address for her so I ended up sending her a message through Facebook. She wrote back right away and agreed to give me ten minutes of time at 1pm.

It was by no means an earth shattering event that would lead to my life as a National Geographic photographer, but I did get some good advice from an amazing photographer and editor. Mainly: 1) do your homework before starting a story. You need to know what the story is before going and shooting aimlessly. The narrative is more important than the single photo. 2) Find a niche market in photography and do it better than anyone else. For me, she got very excited when I told her that my background is in archaeology. Apparently, there are only a few photographers in the world that they can call on for that specialized field.

Hope and Reflection Revisited

I also just wanted to let everyone know that I will be giving a follow-up lecture at the Badé Museum in Berkeley on December 3rd at 5:30PM. This talk will focus on my experiences this previous summer photographing Kurdish refugee camps in Iraq. There will be a one-hour lecture and slideshow with a reception to follow. Hope to see some of you there!

Southern California history comes alive in exhibits by local historical collections and archives at the 4th-annual Los Angeles Archives Bazaar at the University of Southern California on October 17, 2009.

A sounslides story depicting life for Kurds living in refugee and IDP camps in Iraq.

The story of a Syrian Kurd forced to leave his family and flee to Iraq after violence erupted during a football match in his home country. Rasho now lives with his wife in the Moqoble Refugee camp in northern Iraq.

A Brief History of the Syrian Kurds

The Syrian Kurds living at the Moqoble Refugee Camp are officially recognized by the UNHCR as stateless. They have no citizenship. No country. No home.

They are a group of Kurds that fled Syria in March of 2004, after riots broke out stemming from a football match resulting in the deaths of dozens of their friends and family. Prior to leaving, they were among the more than 200,000 Kurdish people officially recognized by the UNHCR as stateless living in Syria. The county had stripped the majority of Kurds of citizenship in 1962.

The Moqoble Refugee Camp was first established for arabs fleeing the Saddam regime, but in 2004 the camp was converted for Syrian Kurds. Since 2004, 44 families consisting of about 600 people call these winterized tents home.

Abdulaziz Muhammed Rasho

Abdullaziz is 53 years old and has been living at Moqoble since the second wave of refugees arrived in July of 2004. In the chaos and riots that ensued after the football match in Syria, Mr. Rasho and his wife were separated from their five children and forced to leave them behind. Here is his story of being forced out of Syria and life within the camp:

- View more photos from this trip -

Above: Akre District, Iraq - Grdasin IDP Camp - A view of the Grdasin IDP Camp. The camp was established in 2006 for Kurds forced to flee Mosul due to increased threats and violence.

I set out this summer to look at refugee camps in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq. Based on my experiences from last summer, I expected to spend at least a week just setting up meetings and securing the proper permissions etc. Then, if I was lucky, I thought that I would gain access to maybe a couple camps over the two weeks that I was in country.

As I described in my last entry however, my postmodern entrance into a premodern reality worked out incredibly in my favor. Over the last two weeks I have been lucky enough to visit five camps and could have gone to more. I have looked at Kurdish refugees and asylum seekers from Turkey, Syria, and Iran, and internally displaced Kurds from Mosul.

I have seen everything from a youth group practicing traditional dance to a six year old boy that has been addicted to smoking for two years.

I have been asked questions ranging from "Can you help get me a passport to meet my family in Germany?" to "Can you bring this paperwork stating that my husband is infertile to the United States to get medicine so that he will not leave me?"

But most of all, I have seen and experienced a wide range of people, living situations, and attitudes towards life that have left me deeply vested in the future of the people in these camps.

First a little general info

There are four types of displaced people living in Iraq:

Refugees: Officially recognized and documented by the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) as "people who are outside their country of nationality or habitual residence, and have a well-founded fear of persecution because of their race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group or political opinion."

Asylum Seekers: Are individuals seeking refugee status from the UNHCR, but have not been officially granted the designation. They generally have the same level of support and rights from the UNHCR as refugees until their application is officially accepted or denied.

Internally Displaced Person: An IDP is someone who has been forced to move from his or her home - in this case due to conflict or persecution - but remains within their country of origin.

Stateless Person: Simply put, "someone who is not considered as a national by ANY state."

In Iraq, there are currently around 2.8 million people displaced in one or more of the above categories. The vast majority, around 2.4 million are internally displaced. However, only about 11% of this number are living in camps or public buildings. The rest are living with families or rented accommodations.

Officially supported by the UNHCR in the Kurdistan region, there are more than 245,000 IDP's, 15,000 Turkish Kurd refugees, 10,000 Iranian Kurd refugees, and 150 Syrian Kurd refugees. More than 1,000 Syrian Kurds are recognized as asylum seekers, with an additional 625 Iranian Kurds.

Makhmoor Refugee Camp

The first camp that I visited, Makmoor, referred to by locals as the "PKK camp," is home to around 11,000 Turkish refugees. While not militant themselves, many openly have ties to the organization. The UNHCR has a policy against supporting anyone that is actively associated with a terrorist organization. However, if they have openly laid down their weapons and become a peaceful people, the organization will support them.

After a short drive through the dust filled town of Makhmoor, about 45 minutes from Erbil, my translator, Leo, and I came upon the large security barriers that formed a maze before coming to the first guard. I promptly got yelled at for taking a photo of the UNHCR flag at the gate, which led to a traditional Kurdish yelling match in which I can never quite tell who is winning. Until, invariably, whoever I am with will turn to me and say "OK. Everything is OK."

Inside, we were greeted by a hesitant Director that said he had no idea how we were granted access to visit the camp. It was not until I found out that the Director's name was Ahmed Dizayee that his attitude changed. Once I told him that I am friends with the miracle Kurd and his family I was immediately treated as a welcomed guest. The Director proceeded to talk to me for an hour about the history of the camp and the people there.

After the talk, we were introduced to a representative of the people in the camp. He took us to the next building where we sat and had our third or forth glass of tea for the day - one that definitely would not be the last. I looked around the largely empty room that I was now in - a few couches, a hole in the wall for the air conditioner, and only two things on the wall: a UNHCR flag and a picture of the former PKK leader Abdullah Ocalan. When I told this to Charles Lynch, the Director of UNHCR operations in Northern Iraq, he was visibly surprised and ceased to go into any further details other than "I didn't know that was there. They definitely shouldn't being doing that."

Unfortunately, by the time we got through all the formalities and began walking around the camp it was noon. For those of you that haven't been to the Middle East, at noon... it's hot. During midday most people stay inside their homes, and at that time of day, walking around the camp was eerily like walking around a surprisingly well developed ghost town. The camp was actually nicer than most villages that I have visited in the region.

Since no one was outside, I asked if we could visit a family. We were quickly invited into the home of Siso Saleem, a 55 year old father of eight. Sensing my surprise about the number of kids, he instantly responded with, "We must have many children. Some to end up in Turkish prisons, some to join the PKK, some to be educated, and some to take care of the home."

When Mr. Saleem first came to Makhmoor in 1998, he worked as a laborer for $0.20 a day. Since then, through saving and with the help of the UNHCR and the Kurdistan Regional Government (KRG), he was able to build his family a home - something that took three phases to complete.

His wife and two daughters proceeded to lay out a large feast of rice and vegetables. Again in portions that surprised me as not the stereotypical image of a refugee camp.

The majority of the development of the camp has happened within the last several years through the help of the UNHCR and the KRG. The camp is still growing at a rate of 100-200 people a year, plus around 300 new births. Each new family is required to build their own home, but the community now supplies the tools and supports in the construction. The camp has five schools and it's own hospital.

When I asked if they want to go back to Turkey, they say that they of course do, however they have a list of demands. These include: full amnesty for past activity, their POW's in Turkey released, villages reconstructed, and the rights to teach their schools in Kurdish. In other words, it looks like Makhmoor is not going away anytime soon.

Grdachal Refugee Camp

The Grdachal camp was the complete polar opposite to Makhmoor. Twenty-two families consiting of more than 120 people living in a old converted school house, Grdachal is a stark alternative to their former lives in Iran. The residents of this camp were forced to flee Iran around 1980 and lived for 20 years in mountainous border regions fighting the Iranian government. Now, they have no possibility of ever returning and a bleak future at Grdachal.

Unlike the people at Makhmoor, the refugees at Grdachal have lost hope. When asked what they wanted, they didn't even have a trace of ambition. They responded only with, "We don't know anymore. All we know is that we want a better life than here." They complained about the facilities (in one case, four families are forced to share the old schoolyard bathroom - a room that smelled so bad I almost had to immediately walk out) and they talked about how they do not even have the opportunity to work because they are located too far from any city.

Tara Saifulla, 17, sat quietly in the corner next to her mother as my translator interpreted what the men of the camp were saying. Finally, a soft "Please, may I speak?" came from Tara. She had learned english by reading a dictionary and watching TV. I was visibly surprised as she had been sitting there silent for at least 30 minutes. She proceeded to tell me of their plight in no uncertain terms and then told me of her mother and her need for a heart surgery that is not possible in Iraq. They openly asked for my help, and I have since spoken to several people about her mother's case. However, every humanitarian organization that I have spoken to which provides heart surgeries do not even want to look at her case because she is 33 years old - after 18 the success rate is too slim.

Moqoble Refugee Camp

After these two camps, I decided that it was time to return to Dohuk and to the camp that I initially visited during my trip last summer. Moqoble Refugee camp was established in 2004 for Syrian Kurds. I will get into their story in more detail in my next post, but Syrian Kurds by far are faced with the worst situation of all the Kurdish region. Currently, there are over 200,000 stateless Kurds living in Syria without citizenship or any rights.

The Moqoble Camp consists of more than 40 families that arrived after July of 2004. They live in winterized tents, or tents with cinderblock walls to make it livable during the winter season.

It was at this camp that I saw the six year old smoker and was asked the questions "Can you help get me a passport to meet my husband in Germany?" and "Can you bring this paperwork stating that my husband is infertile to the United States to get medicine so that he will not leave me?"

Again, the cause of the Syrian Kurds is something that I would like to talk about in much more detail, so I will hold off on this camp until the next post.

Azadi IDP / Refugee Camp

The Azadi camp is composed of many different people. Originally a training area for Saddam's army, the houses have since been converted to homes for Internally Displaced People (IDP's) from cities such as Mosul and Baghdad, as well as many outlying towns and villages. Toward the back of the Azadi Camp are 88 houses that were built for the original arrivals at the Moqoble Camp.

While not quite to the level of development of Makhmoor, this camp still was much closer to the feeling of a small village.

Grdasin IDP Camp

Grdasin was established in April of 2006 for Kurdish people forced to leave their homes in Mosul due to increased threats and violence. At it's height, the camp was home to over 200 families. Now hovering around 100 families consisting of over 800 people, the camp is little more than a temporary solution at best. It is comprised of a mashup of tents and simple cinderblock construction. Small gardens for fresh vegetables line the sides of these simple homes. Conditions within the camp lead to frequent illnesses, especially among the the children and elderly. And employment is again hard to come by as the camp is located far outside any major city.

My visit here was an interesting experience in itself. Sirwan Dizayee, Kamiran the Miracle Kurd's brother and General Manager of the Erbil Governorate, once again made a call on my behalf to the local mayor to secure access. When I arrived at the camp, the mayor was there waiting with four armed guards that quickly turned into an entourage of about 20 people. All following me throughout the streets of the camp and waiting as I walked in and out of people's single room homes. It was quite the spectacle.

Update on the Dizayee Tribe

Under unfortunate circumstances - a member of the tribe recently passed away - I finally met the chief of the miracle kurd's branch of the Dizayee tribe. It was an amazing experience. I walked into the grassy yard of the chief's home - a large rectangular space lined on all four sides with plastic lawn chairs - each filled with a member of the tribe. Immediately everyone stood up as I walked around the rectangle shaking each one's hand. I was then escorted to the position of honor - the seat next to the chief of the tribe.

It was fascinating to see the intricacies of the respect system that has been established centuries ago within their family. While the chief of the family has been a farmer all of his life, he was surrounded by doctors, lawyers, and even the Kurdistan Minister of Justice. Yet, all the reverence within the community still fell upon the chief. There was a clear hierarchy however, or at least clear levels of respect.

Anytime a new member of the tribe entered, they were either greeted with a simple wave from the rectangle, or if a certain age or social position, everyone would immediately stand. For the Kurdistan Minister of Justice, they immediately stood. And, when he tried to make a quick exit, about 10 Dizayees scurried after him. No doubt to pay some sign of respect or arrange some kind of inner tribe business deal. I have a distinct feeling that a lot of business is conducted, and stays, within the family...