Living Under the Shadow of Drones: A City in Fear

 Night After Night, Our Hearts Are Under Attack

Every evening, when the sun sets over Sulaimani and Erbil, a heavier kind of darkness follows. Not the kind that brings peace — but the kind that brings fear. The sky we once watched with dreams and whispers now carries drones and missiles. In less than one month since this devastating war began on February 28, our region has been struck by more than 638 drones and missiles — with dozens raining down on our homes, schools, and neighborhoods in Sulaimani and Erbil alone.

These are not abstract numbers. They are the sounds that shake our walls in the dead of night. They are the jolt that wakes parents from sleep. They are the reason schools remain closed, because no classroom is worth a child’s life under these conditions.

We know who is behind these attacks — not just faceless weapons in the sky, but Iran‑aligned militia groups operating with support from Tehran. These groups, emboldened by regional ambitions and a hunger to stay in power, have shown time and again that they hate the Kurdistan Region, its people, and its spirit. They strike indiscriminately — hitting civilians, civilian infrastructure, places of learning, and even diplomatic and international facilities.

They send these assaults because they know time is not on their side. They know that their grip on power is fragile and that hatred does not build a future — only destroys one. But history will not forget, and neither will we.

Because for every drone that screams across our sky, our patience deepens. For every night we endure without rest, our resolve grows stronger. They may think they are breaking us, but what they don’t understand is that the human spirit cannot be crushed by fear or steel.

Yes — we are grieving. We are tired. We look at empty schools and worry about the laughter that should be filling them. We see cities slowed, hearts weighed down, and dreams deferred because a few fear‑driven factions chose violence over peace.

But make no mistake — their hatred will not last forever, and their power will not endure. The seeds of courage planted in every Kurdish home, every unbroken night we face together, will be the very thing that outlasts this darkness.

We are more than targets — we are a people with memories, culture, hope, and an unshakeable will to survive. And one day — even if it feels distant now — we will look back at these nights not as our downfall, but as the nights that forged our strength.