The practice of Female Genital Mutilation, FGM, is so deeply ingrained in some cultures that it has only recently been brought into question. But what are its origins? Where is it practiced? And why does it need to stop? This month's edition of Mid-East Junction looks into Female Genital Mutilation, through its history and impact on women, telling the stories of two victims who explain why the practice must be brought to an end. You can read more here. *two pieces of music provided by Adam Daudrich* Click the 'play' button to listen or subscribe to the podcast by searching for 'rfi mid east junction'.

The rising star in the world of olive oil, or liquid gold to some, is not found in Europe but in North Africa in the small and often overlooked country of Tunisia. Here olive trees are intertwined with its culture  and history for thousands of years.   Production in Tunisia is considered to be the second most important in the world. It is also one of the most underrated country's compared to the big names like Italy, Greece, Spain, Palestine, Israel, Syria and Jordan. But how did the olive tree wind up in Tunisia? Find out in this month's edition of Mid-East Junction that takes us to a very overlooked powerhouse in the olive oil market. Click the 'play' button to listen or subscribe to the podcast by searching for 'rfi mid east junction'. You can also read more about it here.

In October 2016, Iraqi Special Forces launched an operation to take back Mosul and parts of Iraq from the Islamic State armed group. Since 2014 they had subjected the Iraqi people to their extreme and harsh interpretation of islam. But the operation to liberate them proved equally dangerous as those caught in the middle of the fighting had no where to go. One photographer met those caught in the cross fire and told their stories through his camera lens in this edition of Mid-East Junction. Click here to read the full article or press the 'play' button above to listen or subscribe to the podcast by searching 'RFI Mid-East Junction'

Iran is again in the headlines in an increasingly tense spat with the US and a number of other western countries. This is nothing new, however. The Islamic Republic of Iran has been involved in almost continuous diplomatic rows since its creation in 1979. Sayyid Ruhollah Mūsavi Khomeini drove the revolution of 1979 that drastically changed the country. Better known in the west as Ayotollah Khomeni, he put an end to the corrupt constitutional monarchy of the Shah and created a theocracy that promised a better life for every Iranian. June of this year marked 30 years since his death. What legacy did he leave? We find out more in this edition of Mid-East Junction as we meet one man's journey from the streets of Tehran in support of Khomeini to the streets of Paris in fear of Khomeini. (Read more about the legacy of Khomeini) Click here to read the full article, otherwise click the 'play' button above to listen or subscribe to the podcast by searching 'RFI Mid-East Junction'

Even though no Middle Eastern countries qualified for this year's Women’s World Cup , the sport is alive and growing across the region. In this edition of Mid-East Junction, we meet Honey Thaljieh, the woman behind the first women's national Palestinian team. Click here to read the full article, or click the 'play' button above to listen or subscribe to the podcast by searching 'RFI Mid-East Junction'

In this month's Mid-East Junction, we delve into the culinary delights across the region that have been miles ahead of the vegan trend for decades, even centuries in some cases. Click here to read the article. Click the 'play' button above to listen or subscribe to the podcast by searching 'RFI Mid-East Junction'

In this month’s podcast, we’re going to take a break from politics. And social anxiety. And uprisings and laws. Because the Middle East doesn’t just make headlines. It also has a sensitive musical soul. And this side to the region often comes out in the musical instrument the oud. Or the oriental lute. Find out all about it in this month's podcast of Mid-East Junction or read about it here. Click the 'play' button above to listen or look for 'rfi mideast junction' in your favourite podcast platform to subscribe, so you'll never miss another episode.

On 30 March 1936, the Palestinian Broadcasting Service hit the radio waves. The new service, referred to as PBS, catered to the growing population in British-mandated Palestine that included Palestinian Arabs, Palestinian Jews and the British. In this month's Mid-East Junction, we take a look at the short life of the PBS and the role it played in airing culture, news and social programmes aimed at all the three different audiences. Click on "Play" above. You can also subscribe to this podcast on your favourite podcast platform when you search for RFI Mid-East Junction. You can read more here.

In this week's Mid-East Junction, we meet Julia*, a young woman who escaped her life and marriage by force in Saudi Arabia to find freedom in France.   She, like hundreds of others of women caught in the oppressive male guardianship system in the kingdom, are choosing to risk everything for a life where a woman is respected and ultimately free to make her own decisions. *Her name has been changed for security reasons You can read more about it here  

On December 31st, Bahrain’s high court upheld a five year jail sentence against human rights activist Nabeel Rajab.His sentence was in response to posts he made on social media in February of 2018 accusing the government of torture and criticising Saudi Arabia’s air strikes in Yemen. Campaign groups around the world called his sentencing "political persecution” and “utterly outrageous". For a small country, however, his case is not exceptional. In this week's Mid-East Junction we take a look at Bahrain and look behind the headlines to get a better idea of what's happening in the tiny Gulf state. You can read more about it here  

Earlier this week, Egypt’s President Abdel Fattah al-Sisi opened the country's first international security and defense expo. The event, which took place over three days, featured more than 350 contributors from 40 countries. By anyone's standards it was a big show, but does it really mean anything for Egypt? The short answer is yes. The reasons for this lies in its recent history. The glory days of modern Egypt In 1952, a revolution in Egypt overthrew the British-backed monarchy and pushed the last vestiges of foreign control out of the country. Those behind the bloodless coup called themselves the Free Officers Movement. The end result of the revolt was that Egypt, at long last, was once again ruled by Egyptians. These Egyptians, however, were the military and their new leader as of 1954 - after a moment of internal struggle - was Gamal Abdel Nasser. After the Suez Canal crisis, Nasser had successfully nationalized the Canal against efforts from the French, British and Israeli military. The victory boosted Egypt’s image as a military powerhouse. As the Cold War took hold, Egypt continued to expand its military arsenal, making it the Middle East’s most most powerful state in terms of armaments, Omar Lamrani, a senior military analyst at Stratfor, explains in his article Egypt Goes on an Arms Spending Spree. This was the golden age of Egypt’s military might. Not only was it known for its strength inside the country, but it was known for it outside the country too. However,  with Egypt's defeat by Israel in the 1967 Six-Day War, the army’s reputation started to weaken. Following the end of the cold war, the creation of the Gulf Cooperation Council and Turkey’s reengagement with the region, Egypt began to lose its status. “So that role, regional role, that Egypt aspires to, as it has since the 1950s, has very much declined,” says Issandr al-Amrami, the project director for North Africa and the Middle East at the International Crisis Group. As a result of this decline, Al-Amrami explains that Egypt has begun revising its doctrine and part of that has been upgrading its military equipment and diversifying its procurement processes. Changes since 2011 Since Abdel Fattah al-Sisi  took power in 2013 and then officially in 2014 following elections, the country’s percentage of arms imports jumped by 215 in the period 2013 to 2017 over the period 2008 to 2012. But if you look at Egypt’s total Gross Domestic Product (GDP) its military expenditure for the same period is, in fact, lower. Pieter Wezeman, the senior researcher in the Arms and Military expenditure programmes at the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI) says this discrepancy is likely to stem from the fact that military expenditures reported by Egypt possibly excludes its arms procurement and that, as a result, the overall spending on military expenditures cited in the GDP figures may exclude its arms procurement tally overall. He adds that a “significant part of Egyptian arms procurement is financed with aid from the US, Saudi Arabia or the UAE (and others). This is probably not included in the government budget [either]." This boost in arms purchases has pushed Egypt to be the third largest importer in the world of such weapons and equipment after India and Saudi Arabia as of 2017. France is Egypt's biggest supplier. In fact, at the ribbon-cutting ceremony beside President Sisi on the first day of the expo was France’s Minister of the Armed Forces, Florence Parly . Arms transfers internationally Egypt's quest to revamp its military image is nothing new. In fact, a report on the trends in international arms transfers for 2017 by SIPRI states that the overall volume of international transfers of major weapons between 2013 to 2017 increased by 10 percent over the period of 2008 to 2012. In short, countries all around the world since the early 2000s have been increasing their arms spend. Holly Spencer, from the French organization ‘Stop Fuelling War’ explains that “in European countries we see increased spending on the military, in France in particular as well. And decreased spending on social services and things like these.” The drive to acquire weapons appears to be “increasing fear with an increasing desire to show a sort of strong military front” says Spencer. In Egypt's case that spending has left the country with an external debt that has reached “a record high of €80 billion as of June 2018” says Maged Mandour in his article ‘Sisi’s Debt Crisis’. He adds that “even as the military’s spending worsened an evolving debt crisis, the regime focused on paying for it with a massive austerity drive.” This drive has included austerity measures in 2016 and then new measures on 7th of November of this year. Importance of this defense expo So is this defense expo a significant move for Egypt? “I think the focus on this defense fair [is] that  the constant glorification of the Egyptian army is just [a] recurring feature of the current regime,” explains Al-Amrami. Since Sisi took over as president, the country has shown its people it is willing and able to protect them from Islamist rule, namely the Muslim Brotherhood and the the Islamic State armed group in the Sinai. In the post-2011 era, the country, under the leadership of Sisi, has been looking to rebuild the state, adds Al-Amrami. And people want to feel secure, even as the country’s infrastructure, social services and economy remain weak, because the revolutions left the country in a very vulnerable state. So moves such as buying the French Mistral-class amphibious assault ships that haven’t yet been used appear to be impulsive purchases. But as Wezeman explains that by buying these arms “it can [improve] its status.” "Defense fairs take place all the time across the globe. They are the “focal point of this industry” says Spencer. “This is where all the deals get done [and] where all the contacts are made.” It’s also the place where you show the world “that you are re-equipping and expanding your military capability” says Wezeman. Wezeman adds that it is also the venue “where you actually play your suppliers out against each other to get the best deal on the most advance equipment.” All of this is designed to return Egypt to its glory days as a regional military superpower. The thinking, as outlined by Egypt’s Defense Minister General Mohammed Zaki during the opening remarks of the fair, is that "peace must be protected by power that secures." In other words, Egypt sees strong military as synonymous with peace.

Over the weekend of 11 November, tensions between the Gaza strip and Israel peaked once again, when the Israeli Defense Forces, the IDF, led a botched raid in Gaza. It was the first known time the IDF had set foot in Gaza since the war of 2014. This has raised questions within Israel about the challenges faced by its defence forces. News of the incursion was met by rocket fire from Gaza towards Israel. And that in turn was met by Israeli fire. The IDF later said the operation "was not intended to kill or abduct terrorists but to strengthen Israeli Security". The clash that resulted from the blown operation killed seven Palestinian militants, including a local Hamas military commander, as well as an Israeli army officer. A ceasefire was brokered by Egypt on 13 November. In response to the truce, Israel’s Defense Minister, Avigdor Lieberman resigned, saying such an agreement was "capitulating to terror". "I think it is crazy, that in 2018 our only option about the Gaza strip is to fight with them with less or more ammunition…” says Nadav Weiman, a former IDF soldier and advocacy directory of Breaking the Silence, a group that is set on ending what it sees as the ongoing military occupation of Palestinians through questionable tactics and operations. But Gilad Segal doesn’t agree. He’s also a former IDF soldier but reservist now, and a member of an organization called My Truth that works to undo perceived biases in the media and outside of Israel on the role and work of the IDF. "What happened that eventually led to the [resignation] of the security minister […] we believe that it's something that comes from weakness in Israel to solve the situation which leads eventually to a lot of political pressure on the minister who's a political figure" says Segal. He adds that as a member of the coalition, the minister was likely unable to push through certain actions, adding "the margin of operation is very limited, for Israel, in order to solve the issue in Gaza." Military Occupation? But what is this issue in Gaza? Of course everyone knows about the fighting between the Gaza strip and Israel. As mentioned earlier, tensions exploded in a full-on war back in 2014. When the Islamist movement Hamas took control of Gaza in 2007, both Egypt and Israel quickly moved to impose a blockade of its land, air and sea space. Hamas is considered a terrorist group by certain countries such as the United States and the European Union. To many, including Weiman, this constitutes as an ongoing military occupation of Gaza. “I think if most people around the world would close their eyes and I would tell them occupation […] they would think about soldiers standing at a checkpoint checking IDs.” But this notion runs deeper than mere checkpoints he adds."If you want to control five million Palestinians that don't want your control on them, you have to do it forcefully. And the Israeli security plan, we can say, is that all of the Palestinians should be with their heads down at all times, this is how it is easier for us to control them, this is how they won't resist us, this is how we will bring security to Israel.” The very term of ‘occupation’ however, is not very clear. "It [occupation] is a misleading term" says Segal. “There is no occupation not in the legal sense, not in the figure of speech sense. No occupation of Gaza. Israel doesn't occupy Gaza. You can argue that Israel occupies the West Bank. Not the case in Gaza. In 2005, we withdrew to the very last centimeter, we don't control even one bit of sand" he adds. Already we see that the very term of occupation is debatable. And if that is not widely recognized across the country than how does one continue to support the actions of one of the regions, if not the most powerful militaries? Directives from the top When Gazans began their Great March of Return on March 30th this year, actions taken by the IDF were already criticized by human rights groups. According to the Office of the High commissioner for Human Rights, between March and October 1st, 228 Palestinians were killed and just over 24,000 were injured. In the same time period one Israeli was killed and 40 were injured. Weiman says as a sniper posted in Gaza between 2005 and 2008, his orders were quite simple, "If you want to shoot and kill an armed Palestinian, you will need three things: means, ability, and intention." Without any of the three, also referred to as "the rules of engagement" then the trigger could not be squeezed. What we are seeing today, however, appears to be a different story says Weiman. Such changes in directives come directly from the cabinet, not the officers. "So now, when I hear soldiers are getting commands that the legitimate target is an unarmed protester, on the eastern side of the Gaza fence, it's crazy. This is not the IDF that I grew up in" laments the former IDF soldier. But to Segal, ordering a shoot-to-kill policy without abiding by the rules of engagement is unheard of. He explains that when a soldier is assigned to a particular post, there are orders of opening fire. "It's called exactly that and this is the first thing you ask when you go and take a post and you ask what are my orders of opening fire. And the normal fire, and I don't know what in Gaza specifically, but it changes very little." "It is normally when you're life is in complete risk. And the person in front of you who is threatening it has the intention and the means to do it, and this is the last resort, then you may open fire. Not in order to kill, but in order to neutralize the threat." "If such orders are in fact being given to soldiers--to shoot at unarmed protesters-- then the question remains how the state of Israel defines its operation to ensure security. The soldiers themselves cannot be held responsible for such actions." "The problem is not the army" says Weiman. "The problem is the quality of our government."

Saudi Arabia, the birthplace of Islam, remains one of the most conservative and rigid countries, particularly for women, and for anyone who goes against Islam. Rana Ahmad knows all too well those constraints as she fled her home country after declaring herself an atheist and after having endured the hardships of a woman under the strict control of her family and government. Although the country appears to be going through reforms at the behest of the Crown Prince Mohamed Bin Salman, such as allowing women to drive, these reforms have seen female activists imprisoned, often threatened with the death penalty, and none have tackled the root problem of the country: the Guardianship system. This is the system that forces every woman to seek permission from a husband, brother, father or other close male family member to do simple tasks such as travel, go to school or go to work. Ahmad says such efforts by the Crown Prince are simply “propaganda”, and only give the appearance of change. After fleeing Saudi Arabia, Ahmad claimed asylum in Europe and now lives in Germany, where she is studying physics; a topic that she laughs has become her new religion as it offers pure data on cause and effect, unlike most religions including Islam. Childhood Growing up in the Kingdom, Ahmad says she had a happy childhood. She rode her bike freely, felt the wind in her hair, bickered with her siblings and thought nothing more of the future. That was until the day her grandfather came and took her bike away. She was then told to start covering her hair with a scarf and to act like a woman, not a child. “Even if I am 14 years I looked around me but I felt my body was still young, why do I have to cover it?” she says as she remembers the moment. From that point on, her life began to change. While she struggled with the changes imposed upon her, Ahmad says she wanted to be “a good Muslim girl and accept what my family said to me” and didn’t resist. Finally she was married off at age 19. Marriage Ahmad says during this time, she went through the motions of being a married woman, but questioned her role. She eventually fell into a depression that led her down a path of more self-reflection and questions about her religion and her need for freedom. In an effort to answer these questions, she began to spend more and more time on the internet where she discovered philosophy and atheism. It was also during this time that her husband turned abusive and she eventually sought a divorce; a move that often taints the reputation of a woman in such a conservative society. Following her divorce, Ahmad says it became even harder for her to do much as she was under the strict surveillance of her family. Eventually they allowed her to start working. On the side, she continued her research into atheism, often with a heavy heart as she began to realise that the religion of her childhood was not for her. Atheist Republic A photo taken by Ahmad at Mecca, in front the Ka’bah during the annual pilgrimage shows a sign stating ‘Atheist Republic'. At that point Ahmad says while she was supposed to be enjoying herself at the event with her mother, she realised she could no longer play the role of a good Muslim girl and a girl who knew she was now atheist. She had put into motion a plan to leave the country without telling anyone. And after two to three years, she managed to flee, leaving behind her family, her friends, and the only life she had ever known. Book Her escape to Europe and her story are told in her first book entitled ‘Ici les femmes ne rêvent pas’, which translates into ‘Here, women do not dream’. Arriving to Paris for her first book event, Ahmad smiles, while sipping a glass of wine, dressed in western clothing. She explains how in addition to writing her book, she has started an organization with other activists in Germany to help refugees arriving who have left their country of origin because they are atheist or formerly Muslim. “When I arrived to Germany I didn’t get any help...I [thought] if you are atheist you will find a lot of organizations but it’s not [really] there. I find if you are Christian, it’s easy to get help, if you are Muslim, it’s easy to get help. But if you are ex-Muslim or atheist, who cares? Who will say hello or welcome or something like [that] to you? From this moment I promised myself to help other people when they come to Germany.” Since her arrival to Germany, she has had to change her name. “Rana Ahmad is not my real name”, she explains adding she changed her real name to protect her family and to protect herself from death threats from certain members of her family and possibly the Saudi government. Despite the hardships of leaving her country and her family, Ahmad says she looks to the future now since she can live freely. “I only miss my dad. I cry a lot when I remember that I had to leave my dad because I want to live my life. I miss my mom but she [doesn’t] want to talk to me because I am atheist, because I left Islam…I can’t do anything now but I can enjoy my freedom”.

For nearly four years now, the civil war in Yemen has raged with no end in sight. Civilians have fallen victim to the fighting with some 15,000 killed or injured, while a humanitarian crisis spreads and threatens to claim more lives. Yemen, is located on the southern tip of the Arabian peninsula. It has often sat in the shadow of its eccentric and rich neighbour Saudi Arabia. Unlike its other regional neighbours, Yemen does not have a monarchy , says Adam Baron, a visiting fellow at the European Council on Foreign Relations and International Security Programme fellow at the journal New America. “Yemen stands out on the Arabian Peninsula for a lot of reasons. [It’s the] only country that's not a member of the GCC (Gulf Cooperation Council). [It’s the] only one widely underdeveloped. [It’s the] only one that is a republic rather than some form of a monarchy.” He adds that southern Yemen was once the “only Marxist country in the entire Arabian peninsula” which highlights the different route Yemen took from its neighbours. But does that difference help explain the fighting in today’s Yemen? Shi’a Vs.Sunni Muslims? Many refer to today’s conflict as sectarian fighting between Shi’a and Sunni Muslims. That simple division, however,  does not cut across all the different layers that are at play, says Nadwa Al-Dawsari, the Yemen country director with the Center for Civilians and Conflict. “The yemen conflict has two aspects: the first aspect is the power-struggle among the traditional northern political elites and their patronage” says al-Dawsari. “The other layer of the conflict-- which is deeper-- is the historic grievances that Yemenis hold against these political elite. Unfortunately most of the analysis focus only on the power-struggle aspect among the political elite that's the conflict between Hadi's government and the Houthis, or Salah and the Houthis, or Salah and his former allies...and so this conflict is very, very complex.” She adds that one must not forget the “southern dimension” to this conflict which has been “ignored in almost all the interventions that the international community make to try and resolve the conflict, not just now but since the 2011.” In addition to the north/south divide, the sectarian division and the power struggle amongst the political elite, the other element that needs to be considered is its neighbor, Saudi Arabia. Baron points out that Riyadh “has always wielded outsize[d] influence over Yemen, Saudi Arabia has always done what it can to make sure that it [Yemen] has a government in Yemen that is not combattive towards the Saudis whether that's through financial carrots or sticks, political influence and etc.”

From Aleppo to Paris. A freelance journalist who posted a video of the evacuation of the Syrian city as Bashar al-Assad's forces took control of it recounts his journey from a war zone to the French capital. In December 2016 the government of Syria’s Bashar al-Assad agreed to a mass evacuation of Aleppo city, which had been under siege for months. The Free Syrian Army and other opposition groups were effectively squeezed out and the United Nations requested that remaining civilians and opposition fighters be allowed to leave. Before the official evacuation, freelance journalist Salah Alashkar posted from his Twitter feed a video of him with Aleppo in ruins behind him. In it he appealed for help for the city's residents, subjected to daily air raids at the hands of Syria’s allies, Russia and Iran. “You have to act now, please” he urged viewers. But nothing changed. A few days later he posted a video of the evacuation. In it he says: "We asked to live in a free and democratic country," the young, blond-haired journalist says, while watching people getting ready to leave. "In a country that is free for everyone. We asked for a free Syria. We asked to remove al-Assad. We don’t want Syria in Assad’s way. We want free Syria. No one supported us or even helped us. And as you can see we are being kicked out of our city. Out of Syria. I will go out of Aleppo …. I will go out of Syria, I don’t want to. I don’t want to leave. Then the camera turns sideways and one assumes Alashkar has left with the others. Fighting Assad Salah Alashkar is not his real name. He was born Karim Serjia, the name he used when he went to study banking at the University in Aleppo. But in 2011, when the first protests in Dar’aa were violently put down, he adopted the new name and joined the opposition fighting to rid Syria of Bashar al-Assad. “They are one family, Assad's family,” he explains in a café in Paris, the city he eventually came to after leaving Syria for Turkey. “They take everything we have …. in Syria you can't speak against all subjects. If you want to talk or [write] about wrong things Assad's family [has done]…you will die or you will [spend] all your life in a prison.” The protests in Dar’aa were violently put down by Assad's forces. Schoolchildren who wrote graffiti calling for freedom and criticising Assad’s family,  were reported by a security worker to officials, then arrested and tortured. The photo of 13-year-old Hamza al-Khateeb, who was tortured to death while in custody, eventually became the poster of the revolution. Wanting to take part in the revolt, Alashkar ("the blond one" in Arabic) left the world of banking and, along with his friends, started a production group “to show the people the revolution”. He hit the streets as a reporter. Ten days in jail In mid-2011 his life took a major turn, one he still hasn’t recovered from. While he was filming a protest on 17 August, “one security [worker] with Assad regime catch me”. Alashkar remained in prison for 10 days. When speaking about those days in prison, Alashkar says he doesn’t want to go into the details. "Horrible things” went on, he says. His family eventually paid a huge sum of money to have him released. “After that I can’t go back to my family house … every day I sleep in a new place. I go to my neighbours, my friends, sometimes I got to another city to sleep.” Because his name was now known to Assad’s forces, he would have been watched and probably rearrested if he went home, so Alashkar began his journey of working and living anywhere and everywhere to report on what was happening and to stay alive. Aleppo divided Eventually Aleppo city was split into two: the east under the Free Syrian Army opposition militias and the west under Assad’s forces. Alashkar’s family remained in the west and he continued to live in the east. “I don’t have [the] choice to come back to my family,” he explains, adding that he chose to continue fighting “to support the revolution”. There he began to work for media outlets such as Agence-France Presse, Qatar's Al-Jazeera, French TV company Arte and others, enabling him to buy necessities. But in 2016 food and other essentials started to become scarce. “Assad regime made a siege east of Aleppo, so at this time it’s not easy to have food and electricity.” During this time he reported on the “many families with many characters, some of [whom] die after”, he explains, struggling to control his emotions. His Twitter feed of this time shows video after video of him begging for help, asking the embassies of Russia and Iran to stop the bombing of east Aleppo. He shows  the ghostly looking city in ruins and the people struggling to maintain their daily routine. Revolution defeated Finally, in December 2016, the United Nations reached an evacuation deal with the Assad regime for all residents and fighters to leave east Aleppo. This was not the outcome people like Alashkar were hoping for. But he had no choice, he had to leave. Unlike the others, however, he couldn’t go to Idlib in northern Syria. “The situation is not good for me because I wrote many articles about radical people, so two kind[s] of people don’t like”, those being Assad’s forces and the Islamists. The only place he could go was outside of Syria. So he crossed into Turkey and, through the help of contacts and Reporters without Borders, was able to claim asylum here in France. “When I left Aleppo, I feeling…I am loser”, explains Alashkar, adding “I am sorry to say that, but the revolution lost.” Without the help of Russia or other allies, he feels, the Assad regime would have been toppled many years ago. But that was then and this is now. Today he finds himself alone in Paris, with his family spread across the Middle East, some still in Syria. Adapting to new culture Life in Paris is not easy for him. Adapting to a new culture and language is always a challenge, let alone when one arrives with no family or friends. “In Aleppo I have more friends, I know every neighbourhood," he points out. "I have my memories still in Aleppo ... I can't speak about all things; it's not all my subjects I can share with my new friends.” Nightmares echoing what he has seen and what he has experienced haunt him; but, with certainty in his voice, he insists that, although it will take time, he will be good again, one day. Having missed out on victory doesn’t mean he has hung up his boxing gloves. “If I have any chance to come back to make a new revolution, I will do [it],” he says. In the meantime he is working on a documentary, Four Lives, which tells his story and those of other characters he encountered during his time in the revolution. It recounts the numerous ways one loses oneself in such a situation. At the start of the revolution there was Karim, and now “the revolution name is Salah. So now I don't care about Karim. I believe Salah, because Salah shared the revolution.”

In Iran, it has been obligatory for women to wear a head scarf, or hijab, since 1983, in the wake of the 1979 revolution. Since then, women have been forced to wear the long, loose-fitting chador, and the hijab. To make sure the law is respected, morality police patrol the streets. But two major online movements are showing people -- inside and outside the country -- that Iranian women want to choose. The movements are known as #MyStealthyFreedom and #White Wednesdays. The women in the videos are not necessarily opposed to wearing the hijab, but they are opposed to being forced – by law – to wear it. And they are willing to risk everything for the right to choose. Birth of the movements Masih Alinejad, an Iranian journalist now living in exile in the United States, is the woman behind these two movements. In 2014, she had posted a photo of herself running down a street in London with her hair flying in the wind. Beneath the photo she wrote “every time when I run in a free country and I feel the wind in my hair, it reminds me of the time when my hair was like a hostage in the hands of the Iranian government”. That message connected with many Iranian women across the country. Soon Alinejad posted another photo of herself driving unveiled in Iran. This time she added the caption "I am a woman and I know there are many other women in Iran who do not believe in hijab [and] they have such pictures“. Soon enough “I was bombarded by pictures and videos from women inside Iran unveiling themselves, walking in the streets taking pictures of themselves in the streets, in front of police cars or in [the] seaside, or nature” explains Alinejad. And so the movement my Stealthy Freedom was born. To keep the momentum and the pressure on the Iranian government to end compulsory hijab, Alinejad says she decided to launch White Wednesdays last year on 24 May. White, because it’s the colour of peace. In this movement she asked the women to identify each other in public while taking off their white headscarves. Again, she got “many videos of women…..sometimes walking shoulder to shoulder with their husbands, their fathers, their boyfriends and saying no to compulsory hijab in public”. Punishable crime in Iran Not wearing a hijab in Iran is a punishable crime. Women risk ten months to two years in prison for being caught without being properly covered. Alinejad explains that from the young age of seven, girls are forced to wear the hijab. Without it, a girl will not be able to access school, to get a job, or just generally to live in the country, because at all times you are being monitored by the morality police. In short, she says “being a woman means that you live in a dangerous situation in Iran”. Obligation of the hijab In 1979, Iran deposed its Shah and established a theocracy. Since then, the laws of the country have been tied directly to Islamic law, or Sharia. It's the job of the top religious cleric, the Supreme Leader, to ensure the government’s interpretation of Islam is respected – particularly by women. But where did this obligation for women to cover their hair come from? Koran In Islam the main beliefs come directly from the Koran, the holy book. For Muslims, the word of god was dictated directly to the prophet Mohamed. Religious leaders point to its verses to explain why Muslims have to behave in a particular way. Merryl Wyn Davies is an Islamic scholar and former director of the Muslim Institute in London. She says that although there are eight references to the hijab in the Koran, none of them have anything to do with clothing or refer to terms that one would understand to be a hijab, a chador, or an abaya. The verse that many point to as a reference for the hijab is in chapter 24, verse 31 which calls upon women “to lower their gaze and be mindful of their chastity and to draw their head coverings over their bosoms”. But, stresses Davies, the passage actually begins in chapter 24 verse 30 where it calls upon men “to lower their gaze and be mindful of their chastity”. The conclusion taken from this, she explains, is that the Koran is speaking about modesty within a person, and less about “uniforms and pieces of cloth” which reduce both men and women to objects based on appearances. Hadith Another major source for Muslims is the Hadith, a record of the sayings and life of the Prophet Mohammed. “The hadith is debatable territory” adds Davies, as it opens up room for interpretation, rather than it dictating specifics. It’s for that reason she believes if you were to sit down a group of Muslim and Islamic scholars and ask them if it is obligatory for women to cover their hair “they will tell you ‘well actually not’.” In the case of Iran, the religious clerics have interpreted the Koran to include this obligation on women. It has also been extended to women not being allowed “to be a judge, to ride a bicycle…to sing solo…to travel abroad” or get a passport without permission from their husbands or fathers explains Alinejad. And to the Iranian government, says Alinejad, these rules come from Sharia and must be respected. In response to such rules, which are only enforced mainly in Iran and Saudi Arabia, the creator of the movement says if there is an overriding interpretation of such laws “then this is their responsibility to condemn anything that is happening in the name of Sharia laws and Islamic laws inside Iran and other Islamic countries”. Davies stresses that the Koran is about helping a person make the world a better place and not about “how you lead narrow, prescriptive lives and think you’re going to get to heaven”. Momentum of online movement Until such overriding authority is removed, women have started to speak up. A similar online media movement has pushed certain boundaries already in Saudi Arabia, such as the right to drive. And this current movement in Iran continues to gain momentum, despite the risks. Already one activist in March was sentenced to two years in prison for protesting without her hijab. But as Alinejad highlights, the surge in women risking everything for change has forced the Iranian government to take notice. “For 40 years they were just the people of Iran, especially the women that had the fear inside their hearts. But now it is the government that fears its own people; especially the women of Iran." You can follow these movements on instagram and twitter at #mystealthyfreedom, #whitewedensdays, #mycameraismyweapon and #girlsofrevolutionstreet.

Can art change society? It's not clear whether it can or not, but a group of artists in Egypt believed it could and set off to create such a vision hidden in the oasis governorate of Fayoum, just south of Cairo. Rfi's Anne-Marie Bissada has this report from the village of Tunis in the Fayoum. Just a two hour’s drive south of Cairo, away from the Nile, one comes across the governorate of Fayoum, an oasis in the middle of the desert. As Egypt modernized, Fayoum lagged behind and remained one of the poorer agricultural regions in the country. Even today, farmers tend to their fields using traditional, outdated, means and the pace of life remains slow. It’s also here where you’ll find the small village of Tunis –of a  population of under 1000 -- nestled among the green landscape at a slight incline looking out to the lake. The village itself began to grow after a group of like-minded artists came to establish a kind of utopia away from the chaos of Cairo.

Heavy metal music with a middle eastern twist is not common place, but since 1991, the pioneers of such a genre, the Israeli band Orphaned Land has been using its music to spread the message of peace and tolerance across the often tense Middle East. In this month's Mid-East Junction, RFI's Anne-Marie Bissada speaks with Chen Balbaus, the guitarist of the band, just before their show in Paris.

"What happened after 2014 is another chapter of what happened to this city" say Omar Mohammed, when speaking about his home city of Mosul, the second largest city in Iraq. Mohammed was born in Mosul during some of the worst moments of the Iran-Iraq war in the 1980s. “I was born on 8 April, the Baath party was born on 7 April, and the fall of the regime was on 9 April. I turned 17 when I saw the [US] invasion ... 2014 changed everything in my country," he explains. Mohammed was in Mosul under the corrupt Iraqi army, after the US invasion and while the Islamic State (referred to as ISIS: Islamic State of Iraq and al-Sham, pre-2014) was beginning to strengthen and grow. At the time they already had a foothold in Mosul: “We were used to seeing [car] bombs, weekly there were dead bodies in the street, people gett[ing] kidnapped, people paying taxes to the jihadists. The corruption among the security forces [was] something that was being normalised in the city for about 10 years. The city was terrorised I would say,” explains Mohammed. Even then, heading out to work was not an easy situation. “When I wake up and go out, the first thing I think about: am I going to die?” One story in particular - which is well known among Mosul residents - is about a businessman who refused to pay IS before they seized control of the city in 2014. So to send the man a message "they put a bomb in the car of his son on his wedding day", some time in 2011 or 2012. "After that they told him that if he was not going to pay he should prepare another grave for his other son." Although the Iraqi security forces were in Mosul until 2014, Mohammed points out that such threats were common. “If I get threatened by ISIS, I can’t go to the Iraqi security forces or to the police because they are corrupted and my name will go directly to ISIS and they will come to kill me. So we were blocked in the middle of this corruption and ISIS.” IS enters Mosul Although news of the newly-formed Islamic State armed group in nearby cities was known across Mosul, many chose to stay. In fact, when they arrived, even the Turkish consulate stayed while the former governor appeared in public telling people not to worry  and that everything was ok, explains Mohammed. He adds that as the diplomatic staff didn’t leave, most people didn’t see the need to run away. Even after IS arrived in June of 2014, it didn't show its true colours. "At the very beginning, ISIS (Islamic State of Syria post-2014) wanted to give the people [the impression] that they were there to protect the city, to take the city from the control of the corrupted government. It was very misleading.The people didn’t understand,” adds Mohammed. But then in three weeks things had changed.  “It’s like they pressed [a] button. Everything changed in two days." Mohammed remembers receiving a list of what was permitted and the consequences if people refused to obey. Public executions started, beheadings in the streets, arrests, lashes for not attending mosque, throwing LGBT people off buildings and stoning women on allegations of adultery - actions which took Mosul back to the Middle Ages, he says. Everyone was expected to attend public executions if they were being filmed. A crew of camera men would often repeat the scenes, explaining that a given camera angle or position was not good enough to take a decent shot. Mosul Eye launched The day IS arrived to take over the city, Mohammed says he was using his personal account to post everything. The attack came at 3:00 am on 6 June, an account of which he posted on his personal account as Omar. However, a friend who saw his post told him to be careful. Mohammed erased his personal profile and created an anonymous one called Mosul Eye. “It wasn’t just to share info with others, it was more telling the truth about what’s happening in the city” he explains, adding that the people of Mosul were in a black box. "They couldn’t get out and people couldn’t get in. If no one knew the truth about what was really happening to them, then how would future generations know" he asks. “If there wasn’t another narrative, people would only suspect what happened, they would start investigating and they would find only the narrative of ISIS. So we [would have] lost the truth.” As a trained historian, Mohammed risked his life and that of his family’s to chronicle the day-to-day life in the city. Every day, he would post on his blog stories about how the people lived, the crimes of IS, what IS have done to the people, along with the names of the victims, the impact of the airstrikes. He also listed the names of IS fighters who were killed - in fact, everything that happened. At times he would push his own security boundaries of risk to take photos or videos. But all of this was done to ensure the history of the city was accurately being recorded. Writing about Mosul No one knew of his blog. Not even his family. While Mosul Eye was intended for English-speakers, he had other blogs under various names to target Iraqis. He wanted to clarify a misunderstanding amongst Iraqis outside Mosul that the people of Mosul supported IS, something which was clearly not true. So his blogs became a trusted platform, especially his Mosul Eye among the international community. Even those in his own city were reading his blog through the help of family and friends who could access them outside of the city and report the news. But shouldering the responsibility of such a chronicle became a burden and one that he couldn’t share. “I was so tired, that I couldn’t express my feelings to my mother, to my brother, to my sister. It was heavy on my shoulders, so I thought the only option is to die” he explains. "So I went to the Tigris River, drinking tea, wearing red, smoking publicly,” says Mohammed. He waited for IS to kill him. But to his surprise, no one noticed him. A few months later he decided it was time for him to leave. He had been receiving numerous threats on his blog from IS, and they were getting more active within the neighbourhoods, by searching houses. There was an IS leader living in the house next to his. His neighbourhood in particular had become surrounded by IS. “If they find me, I’m ready to die, but this is my family. I’ve been protecting them for more than a year, so why should I give them up?" he asked himself. The result is that he made arrangements to be smuggled out of the city. Mohammed explains that he left with his notebook and his hard drive that contained every observation about his Mosul under IS. While the car waited for him at six in the morning to sneak him out of the city, he quickly woke his mother up to say a quick good bye without offering any details so as ensure her safety. Even in the safety of Turkey and elsewhere, Mohammed continued to update Mosul Eye until the city was liberated. In November of 2017, he finally decided to reveal his identity and in doing so relieve himself of the burden he had been carrying for nearly two years. He explains that while he had initially vowed to never reveal himself, the liberation of Mosul meant there was no longer a threat to his family. He also wanted the people of his city to learn to trust again. How could they could learn to do so if he didn’t make that first step to reveal his identity,  he asks. On top of all those reasons is the most basic one: “I was also tired of hiding.” Since he revealed his identity, Mohammed has been telling his story to different media outlets and working on his doctoral thesis. He also writes in an effort to move on and find security amongst people. “I’m writing now, writing from the beginning of my life and will continue until the end," he explains. "Writing is helping me to get all of these ideas and images out of my mind." He’s also trying to be as involved as possible from a distance with the cultural revival in his city; a city he hopes to go back to very soon. You can follow Omar Mohammed on Twitter on @omardemosul and @MosulEye  

When a mosque in Egypt’s Sinai region was attacked by affiliates of the Islamic State armed group in November leaving over 300 people dead the attackers said they were targeting what they described as 'heretics of Islam', known to the wider world as Sufis.Who are the Sufis and why have they been singled-out by some other Muslims? The term ‘Sufi’, will, for many, conjur up images of poets like the Persian Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī from the 13th century, or the Abū 'Abdillāh Muḥammad ibn 'Alī ibn Muḥammad ibn `Arabī from Andalusia in Spain from the 12th century, or even Turkey’s whirling dervishes. While poetry and dervishes can be part of different Sufi orders, at the heart of Sufism, is Islam, and its interaction with the prophet Mohammed. Sufis, however, have always differed because they have evolved and adapted their practice of Islam. According to Hamza Malik, a lecturer in Sufism at the department of the Near-and-Middle-East at SOAS, University of London, Sufism strarted to distinguish itself from mainstream Islam in the 1800s. Malik explains that those studying Sufism often sought something that didn’t resemble the strict interpretation of Islam, but instead included some elements closer to Christianity. Such differences become more apparent during the wave of colonization in the 19th century. It's at this point that Muslims began to question where they had gone wrong since they were losing control of their lands. "The answer generally lay in [the fact that] they had moved away from [the] original teachings of Islam” explains Malik. 21st century Sufis Getting a true number of practicing Sufis is hard to come by, since it depends on the order and how one defines a Sufi. In fact, many do not consider themselves Muslim. One article by Stephen Schwartz, a practicing Sufi himself, says out of the roughly 1.3 billion Muslims worldwide, five percent are Sufis. But much of the confusion in defining Sufis as Muslims stems from the fact that Sufism evolved differently than mainstream Islam. Malik explains that this willingness to look deeper into the “spiritual essence of Islam” rather than just its literal adherence to routine, is what attracted people. Different Sufi communities follow different Sufi orders. The orders are based on individual Sufis in history who inspired followers. Rabia and Hasan are two practicing Sufis who grew up in the United States as Presbyterian Christians, but later converted to Sufism. They practice the Sufism developed by Hazrat Inayat Khan, an Indian musician who worked in the early twentieth century. “He [Hazarat] was a court musician in India and was also a Sufi. This was [in] 1910, and he believed very strongly that Islam and Hinduism and [other religions] and Christianity were all facets of the same thing” explains Hasan. “They were all trying to reach something deeper. So he felt that you didn't have to be a Muslim, or a Hindu as such. You weren't being locked into one thing.” Not being locked into one thing is why Sufism was never about a religion, adds Rabia. “Sufism was never a religion. Islam is a religion.” Sufism and Islam But most specialists disagree and insist that Sufism comes from Islam and the Koran. Hisham Hellyer is a senior non-resident fellow at the Atlantic council and a professor at the Centre for advanced study of Islam, science and civilization in Malaysia. He says the two cannot be separated because he believes it's “historically not true”. He adds: “Very basic practice of all Sufis is to read the Koran and that's the Islamic revelation part par excellence and to imagine that is something that can be separated from Islam, I'm not sure how you can do that." But for hundreds of thousands of people around the world, Sufism has become a means of achieving a spirituality that is rooted in Islam, but that is not necessarily part of the religion. This ability of Sufis to draw in more followers by adapting the religion to the local culture is how it was able to adapt to local cultures and taken in those customs. “To give an example, when Islam came to India, they conquered the original people, but a lot of the people who became Muslim became Muslim through the Sufis. And what the Sufis did was they learned the local languages, and then they wrote poetry in the local languages,” explains Malik. The fact that Sufism has an ability to evolve and to adapt, unlike traditional branches of Islam, means it is criticised by some conservative Muslims. “…In essence the Sufis don't do anything too different in their day shift, they don't do anything too different than normal Muslims do, but they definitely have a particular kind of outlook. And historically they've always been quicker and faster in taking the local culture and be able to see what's not harmful about the local culture and try to bring it into focus” adds Malik. Sufis as targets? But at what point did Sufis start becoming targets for fellow Muslims? Malik points to when Sufis began introducing changes to the religion. Such deviation from the “pure form” was seen as something to be purged. “So Sufis began to be seen perhaps as a people who were stuck in their own ways and promoting more cultural aspects and aspects from other religions” which in turn gave fuel to those hardliners who believed “we must cleanse and go back to a pure origin”. Many of the main opponents to Sufis are conservative Muslims, like the Salafists or Wahabbis in Saudi Arabia. Hellyer points to a more recent emergence of Salafism beginning in the 1700s, which was “very critical of Sufism” and put itself in direct opposition to what mainstream Sunni Islam had actually relied upon. But what exactly is the basis for Sufism in Islam? Hellyer says the starting point is in the life of the prophet Mohammed. The story goes that at one point in his life when he is out with some of his companions a man comes upon them who is dressed in white. This man is the archangel Gabriel and he proceeds to ask the prophet to define Islam. He does so referring to the five pillars of Islam. Gabriel then asks Mohammed to define Iman, which means faith. And Mohammed provides an answer referring to certain articles and the belief in the day of judgement. A third question is then put to Gabriel asking to define Ihsan, which means perfection. This “third dimension relates to spiritual matters, excellence. And from that you'll get Sufism. And they'll be other names of disciplines, sometimes not Sufism but it all relates to that dimension of Ihsan” explains Hellyer. This story is a pivotal moment for Sufism according to most Islamic authorities, because it is the basis for correct form and practice for Sufi Muslims. But, for Malik, it’s not the only basis. “There's quite a few different verses and traditions that are used and the Gabriel one is definitely often used as being the third aspect that fits in nicely.” While many practicing Sufis today may not consider themselves Muslims, Sufism has always been an element of Islam for some who are trying to reach a higher level of spirituality. It has had the room to interpret and question its evolution and this has given it a place in modern times, but also, as we've seen, a reputation for being something separate, and something different, to mainstream Islam.

When the French President Emmanuel Macron opened a new Louvre museum in Abu Dhabi this month, he said it would show how beauty was more powerful than hate. The museum wants to promote cultural exchange between West and East – as Amanda Morrow found out, when she was one of the very first visitors to the new Louvre Abu Dhabi.

Iraq’s Kurds have been making international headlines since September after forging ahead with their independence referendum, despite regional and international warnings. They are the only one of the Middle East's Kurdish communities to have their own regional government. The other notable communities are in Turkey, Iran and Syria. So who are the Kurds? Origins “They are a separate ethnic group, living in the Middle East where Turkey, Iran, Syria and Iraq meet. They have been there as long as we know,” says Michael Gunter, a professor at the Tennessee Technological University, who has been researching and writing about the Kurds for over 30 years. And as Gérard Gauthier, an anthropologist and researcher at the Kurdish Institute of Paris, adds ”You also have Kurds in the former Soviet Union [….] There have been Kurds in Pakistan, in Afghanistan, in Georgia, you even have Kurds, I suspect, in China as well. So they are present in a lot of places. But basically the heart of their area is the Middle East.” While an actual Kurdish state is harder to trace in history, the fact remains that the Kurdish people have been in the Middle East region since as far back as 400BC. Contact with ancient Greece In fact, an ancient Greek general by the name of Xenophon details this in his work, Anabasis (The March Up Country). “Xenophon was the head of a troop of 10,000 Greek mercenaries and they were working for a Persian king," explains Gauthier. "And they were defeated and they had to leave Tsifphon, which is near Baghdad, at the time and had to walk all the way back to Greece. At one point they found a tribe of mountain people who blocked their passage, and those people described themselves as Kardokhoy.” It's hard to verify 100 percent if the Kurds were in fact this Kardokhoy or Karochi group and another theory states they are descendants of the Medes, an ancient people who lived in the north-west of what is now Iran. “The Kurds themselves claim to be the descendants of the Medes," adds Gunter. "The Medes were an Assyrian empire in 612BC. But we're not absolutely sure of that. The origins of the Kurds are lost in history. But they certainly have been there for a long time." Tribal allegiances The Kurds speak a language that is similar to Persian but unrelated to Arabic or Turkish. In fact, Gunter points out that the Kurds are a “separate ethnic group, completely different from the Turks and Arabs. [They] speak an Indo-European language, so they are related to the Iranians.” Even though there was a common language and culture among the Kurds, as was the case among other ethnic groups in the area, Kurdish unity was often based on tribal lines. This idea of fidelity to tribal lines goes back as far as the Middle Ages, says Gauthier, as it was important in “ keeping the communities together in times when you had the big wars and destruction” such as the Crusaders and the invasion of the Mongols. He adds that such events brought along destruction to the Middle East and so divisions along tribal lines would have been reinforced. Arrival of Islam During the seventh century, Islam spread from the Arabian Peninsula, bringing another unifying element to the Kurds: religion. Although uniting the Kurds under one banner was not really what was happening. “Because at the time of the empires -- Ottoman empires, Persian empires -- even before when it was the Caliph and you had a united Middle East with a Muslim caliph, then you had a lot of different communities in there. You had Turks, you had Arabs, Persians, Kurds, and the people they had unity and the banner of Islam basically,” explains Gauthier. He adds that like the other groups within the Ottoman Empire, the Kurds would also have spoken several languages. One famous Kurd from the Abbasid Muslim Caliphate was Saladin; he was a sultan, though he also received the title of king, but he was known for leading Islamic forces against the European Crusaders. After his big victory, however, he was revered not for his ethnicity as a Kurd but simply for being a great fighter. Independence So we see that the Kurds have always been a part of the regional history of the Middle East. But have they ever had independent states? “Well into the 19th century there were Kurdish immigrants who by today's standards meet many of the criteria for independence,” says Gunter. “And there's an ancient Kurdish history called Sharafnama, written by Sharaf al-Din Bitlisi in 1596, in which he talks about at least five Kurdish dynasties or emirates in the past that had the attributes of what we would today call independence. So it's possible to say that in effect there were independent Kurdish entities four to five hundred years ago which were eventually wiped out by the Ottoman and Persian empires.” Gauthier notes that al-Din Bitlisi was in fact a Kurd, although the manuscripts were written in Persian, since he was an administrator in the Ottoman Empire and also with the Savafid shahs, the rival Persian dynasty at the time. He began to put to paper the history of the Kurdish local dynasties. As Gauthier explains, Bitlisi wondered if they, the Kurds, had their own prince who could lead them; perhaps they would no longer be exploited by the Turks, Persians and Arabs. So already by the 16th century, we see that the Kurdish people, under Ottoman rule by then, were feeling the pinch. One mustn’t forget that under Ottoman rule, different ethnic and cultural groups were living side by side; but no one had independence. Each province, such as Syria, or Egypt, was ruled by a chosen representative of the Ottomans. The idea of the nation-state The notion of the nation-state as it is currently understood is a modern idea, appearing at the end of the 19th-century. It was really after World War I, which saw the disintegration of the Ottoman empire, that the push for nation-states took effect in the Middle East. “Obviously there was a big push for the idea of a nation-state with Kurds at the end of the Ottoman empire because the people had to choose,” says Gauthier. “A lot of those Kurds, they were generals, officers, administrators to the Ottoman empire, they had Ottoman identity.” And so when the Ottoman empire ceased to exist, many Kurds had to make a choice. And this is where the Kurds may have had a chance to have a state. But don’t forget they had spent years spread out over the region. So when Turkey, Iraq and Syria all pushed for independent states in response to the mandates run by Western powers that replaced the Ottomans, the Kurds found themselves in the middle of it all. “Then in 1918 when the modern state system was created, you created another division between Kurds: Turkish Kurds, Iranian Kurds, Iraqi Kurds and Syrian Kurds” explains Gunter. “That's been going on for a 100 years now. So that's another way the Kurds are divided between the four states that they live in.” In fact, the Kurds almost had a state. As the big Western powers were carving up the Middle East, the 1920 Treaty of Sèvres proposed a Kurdish state in part of what was to become Turkey, although the Kurdish nationalists themselves could not agree on what its borders should be. But the treaty was rejected by the creator of modern Turkey, Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, who launched a war against the Greeks, Italians, British and French. “He [Ataturk] first recruited them [Kurds] against the imperialists, saying we are going to set up a state, which will be a state of brotherhood between Turks and Kurds and when he won he told them there [are] no Kurds,” explains Gauthier. Added to that problem was the fact that the Kurds didn’t have a central figure to bring them together to push for their own state at the time. So they turned to the British. The British were in the north of Iraq and were initially interested in creating a Kurdish state, as a kind of buffer state between Iraq and Mustafa Kemal’s Turkey. “But then they discovered the oil, so they forgot about this buffer state,” says Gauthier. So the Kurdish populations were absorbed into Iran, Syria, Iraq and Turkey. But constant tensions between the Kurdish communities and their country’s governments have always been a reason for them to push for their own state. In the case of Iraq’s Kurds, the US's 2003 invasion of Iras gave them outside support to set up their autonomous region, says Gunter. But as Iraqi’s Kurds face the consequences of pushing ahead with their quest for independence, Falah Mustafa, the foreign minister of the Kurdish Regional Government says that the Kurds are “a different nation”. Their efforts for independence have not worked out thus far, but “we tried our best, we went to Baghdad, we played a positive role. …. we should not be punished. We have to be realistic.”

The climate of media, particularly across the Middle East, is constantly changing and facing different challenges than in other regions. But up until now, no one has ever tried to put the habits of Middle Eastern nationals onto paper to truly understand what’s going on in terms of how people are getting their news.

Everyone loves the taste of authentic falafel - but where does this delicious dish come from exactly? That sweet popping sound of boiling oil just before a falafel pops out: balls of bean goodness that have an international following. Once the fried fritters, made of chickpeas or broad beans come out, they're thrown into fresh pitta bread and dressed with vegetables, and tahina…crushed sesame seed sauce. Easy to eat, cheap to buy and everyone agrees they are the typical street food of the Middle East. But ask about the origins and a conflict may as well break out. “Well, falafel … there’s a little fight over that. There are those who will say it’s Egyptian, others will say its Lebanese and others will say it is Israeli. Whatever it’s from the Middle East,” says Yumi, the manager of a popular falafel stand in Paris. Perhaps that’s the safest answer. But with Paris having an ample Middle Eastern population, I decided the best way to answer this question was to eat my way through the different falafel stands in the city. It's a tough job but somebody's got to do it. For simplicity's sake, I've narrowed it down to Israeli, Lebanese and Egyptian falafel. Before properly answering the question, one has to know that falafel is either chickpea or broad-bean based. Sometimes the two are combined. Regardless of the preparation, the falafel itself is almost always eaten in a sandwich, generally in a flat type of bread. Israeli-style in the Marais In search of the origins of our favourite fritter, I began in one of Paris’s tourist attractions, the Marais neighbourhood. What used to be a thriving Jewish neighbourhood before World War II, is now a rather gentrified and artsy part of town, complete with small museums and art galleries. But the rue des Rosiers still upholds the Jewish past of the neighbourhood, with its bakeries, restaurants and falafel stands of the Israeli variety. As the tourists flock to Paris during the summer months, the pedestrian street is packed with people waiting in line to grab a falafel sandwich from one of the four main restaurants. I found a few people devouring their falafel and asked them why they came to rue des Rosiers: Julie, from Paris “For me, it’s the best place for falafel.” Zanthy, an Australian tourist: “I have had falafels all over the place; this is definitely on the higher scale of falafels.” Everyone knows how to eat a falafel, but does anyone here know its origins? Georgia, from the UK admits “I don’t know exactly, you find it in a few different cuisines from different countries.” One American tourist gives a safe answer stating “It’s Israeli and Arabic; a mix between the two.” So no one really knows. But then, while scarfing down a falafel, that’s likely the farthest thing from your mind. Despite the lunchtime rush, the managers from two popular stands find time to discuss the origin of the fritters. “I’d say it’s Israeli, but maybe Lebanese. Let’s just say Israeli-Lebanese,” says Elon, the manager of King Falafel. When asked about the different preparations: “I don’t know another type. Falafel with beans? I didn’t know. See, now you’ve told me that so I’ve learned something!” he exclaims. “I know Egyptians mix it with beans. It’s called ful mudammas, but Israelis do it with 100 percent chickpeas” explains Yumi, the manager of L’As du Falafel. Lebanese-style in Bastille Over in the Bastille area, far from the tourist crowds of the Marais, the streets are lined with French bistros and pockets of Lebanese restaurants. One in particular serves only falafel. The modern interior of Bar Falafel Bro doesn’t reveal its Lebanese origin. David, originally from Beirut, is one of the owners of the place. When I put the question to him, he smiles and explains diplomatically “Well, if you put the question to a Lebanese, he will say it comes from us. If you ask an Egyptian or a Tunisian or an Israeli they will call claim falafel as their own. But, for me, it remains international; a Mediterranean dish. The meal is very popular - it’s not even a meal, it’s a sandwich. A falafel sandwich is very popular.” But when it comes to the origin of the word "falafel" David responds honestly, stating “I don’t know exactly where the name falafel comes from. I was born in Beirut and in Beirut it’s really the chance to go to the small businesses and grab a falafel sandwich which is very popular in the working-class neighbourood of Bourj Hammoud.” As David and Yumi both mentioned, regardless of the origin, the falafel itself becomes appropriated by its country. What's a typically Lebanese falafel? David explains beginning with the essential sauce, tarator. “That’s the well-known tahina sauce which accompanies the sandwich and the ingredients inside it, like fresh mint, turnip and in addition to that, in Lebabon, we always have a hot pepper on the side. That’s to say a hot pepper accompanies a falafel sandwich; that’s part of the tradition. There’s no sandwich without one.” Egyptian-style near the Champs Elysées Over on the other side of town, just a few steps away from the Arc de Triomphe, you’ll find the only Egyptian falafel stand in the city. Nestled on a side street, it’s easily missed if you’re caught up wandering the broad avenues of this neighbourhood. Mickael, who was born in France and is of Egyptian Coptic background, is the owner of Micka Falafel. When asked about the origins of the bean fritter, he quickly launches into an explanation, beginning with the word "falafel" itself: “Falafel is a word used in the Coptic language that was the national language of Egypt back in the day," he says. "When one talks about falafel, it is about rolling the batter, which is made from broad beans, into balls which are then thrown into oil, creating a crust. It is this crust that is called falafel.” In certain Middle Eastern countries, such as Egypt, falafel is also eaten for breakfast. “If you eat falafel in the morning for breakfast, you need to know a little about where it comes from,” Mickael says when asked how he came by his explanation of the word's origins. That interest took him to his grandfather who can speak Coptic, and transmitted his story about the origins of falafel. Food for the hundreds Tamiya is another term for falafel, which is only used in Egypt. “In Egypt 2,000 years you would find falafel and years after they changed it to tamiya,” explains Mickael. He says it was changed following the Islamic conquest of Egypt, when Arabic became the new language, so efforts were made to Arabise the country. The food falafel remained but, because it is considered a food of the people, it took on the name of ta’miya from tam, meaning taste, and mi'a, meaning 100. So food for the hundreds. But another school of thought says tamiya is in fact a word rooted in the Coptic language, a successor to the pharaonic language. The term falafel in fact is the plural form of filfil, meaning peppers in Arabic. So the name itself is highly disputed. Whatever the origins of the dish and its name, it remains popular. “A falafel sandwich will always just be a ball of chickpeas and beans,” says David. “The price will never be as high as meat and that’s why it’s always available in the working-class neighbourhoods.” But chickpeas or beans? Could that be the determining factor in narrowing down the origin? “When there was a large Jewish community in the country [Egypt], that’s when the difference in the preparation happened," he explains. "We began to see a mix between broad beans and chickpeas, so in Alexandria, in Cairo, in the cosmopolitan cities. "But in the more conservative cities of the south, so in Minya or Asyut for example, which never really had a significant Jewish population and has remained relatively Coptic, falafel has always been made from broad beans.” Pharoahs and beans This idea of falafel coming from Egypt could be correct, given that the Coptic people, thought to be descendants of the ancient Egyptians, still maintain practices from those days. There is evidence of dried broad beans found in pharaonic tombs and at least one book cites pharaonic cooks as making bean fritters using mashed beans, garlic onions and spices; all ingredients native to the country and region. Given that the Copts engage in many fasts, which forbid any animal products, during the course of a year, eating falafel during these times has always been popular. And as Islam spread across the country and region during the 600s, falafel also became a favourite of Muslims, especially during Ramadan when it is eaten as an appetiser to break the daily fast. Regardless of the country, the fact remains that the idea of a falafel spread from one country to another and stayed in the region. And, as David stresses, “Each country has its own recipe. Maybe some with more chickpeas than chives, or with more spices. Those who add garlic or those who don’t. Each one makes the falafel recipe his own. Even if I were to say I’m 100 percent convinced its Lebanese, it wouldn’t make a difference, but I don’t believe that because, well it’s just very Mediterranean.” In the end, no one really knows the true origin, though you might be able to come up with your own conclusion. Whether you love your falafel with chickpeas, or with broad beans, or both, it’s still delicious. And it’s so good it even inspired a song, as sung by comedian Go Remy.