Narin stands on the edge of the Tigris River in Turkey, surrounded by her family and a small gathering of Yazidi elders, awaiting her long-anticipated baptism in the spring of 2014. Dressed in a white garment, her small frame is barely noticeable among the larger figures of her relatives, yet her sage-green eyes gleam with curiosity and quiet anticipation. The sheikh, draped in traditional white robes, places a gentle hand upon her head, whispering words of blessing that invoke strength, wisdom, and protection for her future. Nearby, her grandmother watches intently, her gaze filled with both pride and sorrow. As the river flows steadily beside them, she calls Narin “the corner of my liver” and “the light of my eye,” affectionate phrases that Yazidi elders use to express deep familial love. The ceremony, a sacred moment in Narin’s life, carries the weight of generations, linking the present to the rich history of their ancestors.

Despite the solemnity of the occasion, Narin feels an ache in her chest at the absence of her father. A talented qanun player, he travels frequently for work, leaving Narin to be raised primarily by her grandmother after the untimely death of her mother. His absence has been a constant in her life, a reality she has learned to accept, but on days like this, she longs for his presence. The ceremony is nearing completion when an unwelcome intrusion shatters the peace—a bulldozer, part of the Turkish government’s controversial dam project, roars to life just beyond the riverbank. Its presence is a stark reminder of the impending destruction of Hasankeyf, a place that holds centuries of history, now facing submersion beneath artificial lakes. The gathered Yazidis glance at one another with a mixture of frustration and helplessness, knowing they have little power to stop what is coming.

Despite the protests of environmentalists and historians, the government has pushed forward with the dam’s construction, citing progress and modernization as its justification. The driver of the bulldozer, seemingly indifferent to the cultural and historical loss, yells at the group, urging them to leave before the work begins. Grandma, a woman whose spirit is as unwavering as the mountains, refuses to move, meeting his glare with quiet defiance. The tension is thick, but ultimately, the group must concede, forced to relocate further up the riverbank to complete the ceremony in relative peace. The disruption leaves an unspoken mark on the event, a reminder that their homeland is slipping away from them, piece by piece.

As they resume the baptism, Grandma expresses her long-held desire to take Narin to Iraq, where a proper baptism could be performed at the holy Yazidi site of Lalish. She believes that the sacred valley, untouched by modern destruction, will offer the girl a more profound connection to her faith. However, Narin has her own struggles—her worsening hearing loss, caused by a rare genetic condition, has begun to affect her daily life. She fears a future where she will no longer hear the rushing of the Tigris, the songs of her people, or the sound of her grandmother’s voice telling stories of the past. Sensing her unease, Grandma reassures her that love and memory transcend even the loss of one’s senses. Though they may lose their lands, their rivers, and even their ability to hear one another, the spirit of their people will always endure.

As the ceremony concludes, a heavy silence lingers in the air, filled with both hope and sorrow. Narin feels the weight of her people’s history pressing down on her, the realization that she belongs to a lineage marked by both resilience and loss. Though her baptism is complete, she knows that her journey is only just beginning. The Yazidis are a people of survival, their stories flowing through time like the waters of the Tigris. Even as their world changes, even as bulldozers erase their past, they remain. Narin, standing at the edge of her childhood, begins to understand that her life will be shaped by this same unbreakable spirit. And though the future is uncertain, she takes comfort in the knowledge that she carries the legacy of her ancestors within her, like a river that refuses to be buried.