September 13, 2014. The Kurds, invisible to the world, started to write not only their own history but also the history of being a human with what they know best: RESISTANCE! There was an orchestra and the symphony started to be written that day. Its name was Kobanê. Kobanê is the turning point of proving its existence. Kobanê has many stories written and yet thousands of other stories remain to be written.

The story of two sisters from Helina is just one of them. Zozan and Hiwa did not leave Kobanê during the war. They served the revolution by staying with YPG-YPJ fighters for 9 months, during and after the war. They washed the bloody clothes of the wounded and martyrs for months and cleaned their blood in frozen waters in the frosty desert. Under the assassination attacks of ISIS gangs, they hung and dried them and sent to another fighter on the front. They did their work with great pride and enthusiasm. They cooked all the dishes they knew so that no fighter would remain hungry during clashes. They kept working day and night. They were very tired, they saw hundreds of martyrs and so many injured. But their knees never shook. Their anger became firmer. And in the midst of the war, the two sisters promised each other: If one of us is martyred, the other will never return home! She will join the fighters!

ZOZAN TELLS HOW THEY MET THE REVOLUTIONARIES

When the Kobanê war started, Zozan Mihemed Ali was 25 years old, and Hiwa Mihemed Ali 29. In fact, they started their battle of life when Zozan was 12 years old. Five sisters, having lost their parents, clung to life. Their greatest luck was the revolutionaries, whom they referred to as "heval" (comrade), and whose eyes were smiling in their own words. They used to come and go while their parents were still alive, but "we had no clue," says Zozan as she talks about those days. In the years after they were left without a mother and father, they started to get to know and understand Kurdish revolutionaries. And they started working with them. When the regime forces started to withdraw from the Kurdish regions before the 19 July Revolution, Zozan and Hiwa completed their self-defense training and took their place in the People's Assembly activities as pioneers. It is possible to see that Zozan still carries the excitement of that day as she says, "We also had military training with 40 women at that time”.

When the war in Kobanê started, their three older sisters, who were married, moved from Kobanê to the North because they had young children. Zozan and Hiwa decided that they would never leave Kobanê. Only two of them remained in the village of Helince. Zozan recalls, “Everyone was gone. Me and my sister were alone in the village of Helince. We told the friends that we were alone and asked them to come to our side. They came and stayed with us one evening. We asked them for weapons to fight together. They said that we should go to the city, next to them, and organize according to the needs.”

One of the most important tasks of the war is the rear-guard support. Zozan and Hiwa started taking care of cooking and cleaning and caring for the wounded.

“Our primary job was to cook for the people piled up at the border. I and heval Dilan were charged with preparing food. When the conflict escalated, we started cooking for all fronts. We were always side by side with my sister. We also cooked for the injured.”

“We were cooking rice, bulgur, stuffed vegetables and sometimes meatballs. As the war intensified, we did not have much food for almost two months. We only had rice and bulgur left. Our days and nights mixed up. We were going to bring bread in the middle of the night. It was difficult, of course, but the more we saw the fighters, the better we got. It was mutual, of course. We became a single body, we provided hope and motivation in that way."

'I WASHED THE CLOTHES WITH TEARS IN MY EYES, ANGER IN MY HEART'

Hiva Mihemed Ali summarizes her mission as: "My duty at the front was to wash the clothes of the wounded friends, to care for the wounded and to cook". Moved to tears, she begins to talk about those days. Hiwa recounted those days as if she were reliving them, and so systematically that I will not come between. Her language and expressions are vivid enough:

“One day, friends brought clothes for us to wash. They showed a shirt and said it was unusable. I immediately took it to see that one of the fighters had been seriously injured because pieces of flesh remained on the cloth. I thought that the cloth of this fighter, who made his body a shield for these people, had to be handed over to another fighter. I washed it with tears in my eyes, anger in my heart, I dried and sent it to the fighters on the front. There was military mobilization, many were pouring from four parts of Kurdistan. Someone would surely need it.

Washing the clothes of the wounded or martyred friends was a difficult task. It was difficult in a spiritual sense. For example, when we saw blood on a uniform, we inevitably thought about what kind of injury the fighter had received, what condition he/she was in, whether he/she was a martyr or a wounded one. A flag of TEV-DEM appeared in the pocket of a fighter's dress. The flag was full of holes. I took it with me saying that I would hang it at the spot where we were staying. Imagine how that fighter might have ended up while even the flag was so worn!

OUR FIGHTERS SHOULD SMELL BEAUTIFUL ...

Since the clothes and blankets were entirely bloody and muddy, we were keeping them in water in washtub for a day so that there would be no blood stains left. Then came winter, as well as a razor-sharp wind. It was both raining and snowing from time to time. Me and Şilan went to the washtub to take the blankets and dresses only to see them totally covered by ice.

We immediately took those frozen clothes out of ice and then washed them until there was no stain left! Once again, we threw it into the washing machine so that the fighters wouldn't smell blood. Our fighters had to smell good… Under the snowfall with the sharp wind, we were taking out blankets and all clothes and hanging them on the roof.

One day, the clothes came again. Friends said that the barrels on the second floor needed to be filled. Our two friends also had children with them. They didn't want to go because of the assassinations. I said 'if I fall a martyr I have a sister and she is here at the front anyway' I will go’. I went to the barrels amid sounds of guns. Crawling and bending, we were barely able to fill our water that day.

'WE WERE TAKING MORALE FROM THE WOUNDED'

We were bolstered when injured friends came to take their breakfast. Some had no feet and some had no arms. Sometimes they called us from the roof to see if the meal was ready or not. Sometimes we would take the pots and go there.

The highlight of the urban fight was the spirit of comradeship. Because there was no gas, no propane cylinder or anything. We were cooking all our meals on the fire. In addition, the dialogue among the injured friends was very nice. There was a friend named Silava who was imitating all the wounded and they were all laughing out loud. There were people going to the front when their wounds healed a little bit. After seeing all their enthusiastic and faithful state, I could not ever believe that they had been martyred.

SYMPHONY IS COMPLETED, 'KOBANE WILL BE FREE!'

Months had passed, and friends were only holding a small alan left under their control. On that day, they promised "Kobanê will be liberated". Indeed, after a short time, a friend named Peyman came and said "I have good news for you". And we said, "What good news in this state?". When she said “The friends have freed 7 streets”, we experienced happiness and sadness together. Inevitably, martyrs come to mind. One wishes that they, too, could see these days.

After that day, the friends progressed day by day. They were now reaching Kaniya Kurda. When we were doing laundry as usual, a friend came and said, "Kobanê center has been liberated." We sat down and wept.

"WE HAVE SO MANY MARTYRS, WHO CARES ABOUT THE HOME!"

Then we learned that the gangs had destroyed our house in Helince. Who cares about the house at all, while we gave so many martyrs? Still, since many friends had memories in that house, I only felt sorry for the memories. After the liberation of the city, I only asked one thing from my friends: "Let's go to the cemetery of martyrs first." My brother's son, Demhat, had fallen a martyr. I wouldn't go anywhere without seeing his grave, the grave of our other martyrs. Friends took us to the cemetery. Martyr Demhat was the last to be buried. We sat by his grave for a long time. We had things to say to him. From there we moved to the village of Helince. Our house was unrecognizable. So was the village. The gangs had destroyed all our memories. It was now our business to keep those memories alive… We did not stay at our house for a while anyway. After cleaning, we placed wounded friends. They stayed in our house for a long time. We worked with friends until the people returned and were settled. We have been working since that day.

IF ONE OF US FALLS A MARTYR...

My sister and I had promised each other: If one of us is martyred, the other will never go home and she will join the fighters! My sister and I slept in separate places for only one night for 6 months, and I couldn't sleep until morning that night. We have struggled together in all difficulties since our childhood.