Let's Talk About Kurdish Cuisine 

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Growing up in a Kurdish household in London during the 90s and early 2000s, my world was defined by the scents of a rich and vibrant kitchen. Every day was a masterclass in Kurdish culinary art: the delicate rolling of Yaprax, the slow-cooked perfection of Qozi, and the comforting textures of Shifta and Parda Plaw.

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As I grew older, however, I noticed a painful trend. I began to see these staple Kurdish dishes rebranded as 'Turkish,' 'Syrian,' or 'Iraqi' on the global stage, with almost no credit given to the Kurdish people. It is a profound irony that while the modern nation-states of Turkey, Syria, and Iraq were only formally drawn onto the map following the 1916 Sykes-Picot Agreement and the 1923 Treaty of Lausanne, our culture predates these borders. Seeing these relatively new national identities claim a heritage that isn't theirs feels like a second displacement—this time, of our history and our food.

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As a Kurd, I feel a deep sense of "culinary erasure," which is a frustration many Kurds feel when their heritage is absorbed into the "national brands" of the countries that currently occupy Kurdish lands. 

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The "Pakindia" Analogy: How to Steal a Culture

To understand what happened to Kurdish cuisine, you have to imagine a world where history was rewritten overnight by the stroke of a pen.

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The Scenario

Imagine World War III has just ended. The victors—the USA and Russia—sit down to carve up Europe. To ensure their own long-term control, they ignore thousands of years of local history and draw completely artificial borders designed to keep the region in a state of permanent unrest.

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The Creation of "Pakindia"

One of these new, bogus countries stretches from London to Birmingham. It is given the artificial name "Pakindia." Because a massive conflict has destroyed the old internet and most libraries, a new history is written from scratch on a new global network.

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The Culinary Erasure

Within one generation, the history books and the "new" internet claim that:

• Fish and Chips is an "Ancient Pakindian" delicacy.

• Bangers and Mash and Shepherd’s Pie are "Traditional Pakindian" staples.

• The Full English Breakfast is rebranded as the "Pakindian Morning Feast."

If a local from London tries to say, "Wait, my grandmother cooked this long before Pakindia existed," they are silenced or told they are simply a "Pakindian from the South."

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The Reality: From Analogy to History

This isn't just a "what if" scenario; for Kurds, this is exactly what happened.

1. The Borders: The 1916 Sykes-Picot Agreement was the "winners" drawing the map. The British and French drew lines in the sand that ignored the Kurdish people entirely.

2. The Artificial States: Modern Turkey, Syria, and Iraq are the "Pakindias" of the Middle East. They are 20th-century political inventions that absorbed ancient Kurdish lands.

3. The Theft: Because Kurds were left without a state to defend their "brand," these new countries began marketing Kurdish culture as their own.

   • Yaprax and Kuba became "Iraqi."

   • Kebabs and Kurdish coffee became "Turkish."

   • Tapsi became "Syrian."

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The Bottom Line

When you see a "Turkish" or "Iraqi" restaurant today, remember the Pakindia analogy. You are often eating Kurdish history that has been rebranded under a flag that didn't exist when the recipe was first perfected. 

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The Kurdish Problem 

When I speak about the 'Kurdish Problem,' I am talking about a war for our cultural survival—and the frontline is our food. It is a painful irony: our people, especially from North Kurdistan, move to Europe and immediately hide their identity behind the label of the very state that occupies them. We open 'Turkish' barbers and sell 'Turkish' kebabs. We produce Kurdish sausages, coffee, baklava, and cheese, only to slap a 'Turkish' sticker on them to appeal to customers.

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We cannot stop the theft of our culture if we are the ones providing the getaway car. To reclaim our history, we must first find the courage to stop this 'marketing' bullshit. Our culture isn't a sub-category of Turkey; it is its own entity. If it’s Kurdish-made, call it Kurdish. Period!

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This is a deeply personal and systemic issue known as "Brand Erasure." Kurdish frustration stems from seeing the Kurdish people themselves—out of a desire for economic survival or due to decades of assimilation—participating in the rebranding of their own heritage.

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When a "Turkish" label is put on Kurdish coffee or a Kurdish barber shop, it’s often because the "Turkish" brand is already established in the Western mind, while the "Kurdish" brand has been suppressed. But that cycle only reinforces the theft our culture and history. 

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