I have photographed the Kurdish people of Southeast Turkey for four consecutive summers, and in 2008 crossed the border into Northern Iraq for the first time. Almost immediately I met a young Kurdish man from Syria working at a local rest stop. He told us about the mass riots which resulted in the deaths of dozen of Kurds in Syria. These riots had caused his family to flee their home to the refugee camp where they had spent the last four years.
My fixer and I decided to visit these people in the Moqoble refugee camp outside of Dohuk. What we found was a forgotten people encamped in tents provided by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) that were meant to be only temporary. Women were waiting anxiously for a truck to deliver fresh food. Yet the Kurdish colors still hung high and the people were quick to invite us into their humble homes to offer us water—which we were afraid to drink.
