| Can Art Help Heal the Wounds of War?
 
 Professor’s Research Points to Restorative Nature of Art Forms
 
  IN 1983 IN BARZAN, a small Kurdish village in Northern Iraq, Saddam
        Hussein arrested every male over the age of 12. “They disappeared and
        have never been found again,” says Seattle Pacific University Assistant
        Professor of English Kimberly Segall. So how does a community function,
        even move on, in the wake of such brutality?      
        Segall’s new research, to
          be published by Duke University Press later this year, explores that
          question. “I interviewed Kurdish refugees and became intrigued with the
          ways in which cultural groups work out their traumatic experiences,” she
          says.       
       Her curiosity took root while spending two years in Iraq teaching
            English as a Second Language and delivering humanitarian aid to the
        Kurdish people. She began to wonder, “After years of being terrorized, how do
            people recover? How do they work through the horror of the past? How
            do they find their sense of identity when they’re always afraid of being
            killed, or they’re always running?”      
       Then she noticed that one of her Iraqi
              friends, who had survived torture and the effects of chemical weapons,
              would sing and dance with his community as a way to deal with grief. “I
              was so impressed by this, because you would think that when people are
              completely downtrodden their voices would be silenced, that their artistic
              forms would cease.” Instead, says Segall, it was art forms that kept
            the people’s hope alive.      
       “When people are traumatized, it distorts and
              disrupts their current moment,” she says, noting that such trauma in
              Iraq goes far beyond the reach of one dictator but represents tensions
              between groups such as the Iraqi Shiites and Kurds over disputed lands
              in Kirkuk. “But through song and other art forms, you’re acting out the
              past, dancing and interacting with people. You’re not alone suffering
            from post-traumatic stress disorder.”      
       Segall says she still feels a desire
              to return to Iraq, to be on the “front line.” “But what I do at SPU is
              equally important, because the misunderstandings about Middle Eastern
            cultures are so great.”      
       Several of Segall’s students have been deployed
              to Iraq over the past year for military service. “I want to give all
              my students a gift as a teacher,” she explains. “I want to give them
            a sense of understanding about the history and culture of the Iraqi people.”      
       The
              recent war, says Segall, has brought new suffering to the country.
        Even more reason, she says, to see art as one possible avenue for healing. “Post-war
              Iraq needs to incorporate the opportunity for people to recognize historical
              changes with rituals and artistic forms. If healing doesn’t happen, Iraq
            will always have the potential for violence.”      
       So the widows of Barzan
              sing, dance and tell stories. “They sing songs of grief and lament, and
              of a wistful wonder whether their husbands and sons are still alive,” says
              Segall. “This is what gets them through. It helps to confirm that the
            past is over.”      
       
        
  
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