The water ran shallow, winding idyllically down the canyon. It was difficult to imagine this area of Hansankeyf would be flooded in the next three years—project dam. Two gigantic stumps, remnants of an ancient bridge, stood at a distance upstream. I walked down to the edge of the water and stood next to the Tigris River.
Residents of the area drew water from the river using rubber hoses. Chickens ran about and children picked up whatever in the sand and played with them. Some boys came over to us, exuberant in their hellos. “Bon bon, bon bon,” they cried. Oh their teeth were black like old men’s.
A castle ruin sat atop the hill. At the summit was a cemetery of dried winter grass and weathered tombstones. A mosque stood at a distance. They would witness the disappearance of the present landscape, hundreds of cave dwellings, the villages, and the construction of the dam. The saga of new replacing old in brisk pace—by men instead of nature.
Photos by Dore Steinberg.
