Now Demhat has also become a candle light

In the Rojava Revolution, which lightens up on the trail of the martyrs, also Demhat has become a candle light... Demhat's beautiful eyes and face were always shining, mirroring the love of humans he cradled in his heart.

The Rojava Revolution, which brightens with the light of its martyrs' paths, is folding in its arms the light of martyr Demhat.

British, American, Estonian, Greek, Italian, Swiss...They all have become never wilting flowers amidst the lake of blood shed in Rojava. Every single internationalist fighter I spoke with said: "I have come here for the sake of humanity, it is my task to contribute to the revolution and support the Kurdish people."

Yesterday while wandering around at the front line, I met Roza, a good friend of martyr Demhat . She asked me: "You are hiding something from me, is there something you want to tell me?". But my mouth can not move. I do not want her to learn of Demhat's martyrdom from me.


The American fighter Demhat Newyork returned on the 5th of July together with his comrades from an operation. They were only a few metres away from their emplacements. There were six of them. In that bloody night three young souls fell martyrs and some others were wounded. While making their way back, one of Demhat's comrades stepped on a land mine, the explosion of which was followed by enemy gunfire on them. Four martyrs and injured fighters were the result.

I was at the emergency station at Raqqa's frontline. It was 2 o'clock in the night. Hearing the cars I headed to the doctor. When the doors of the vehicle were opened, there were three corpses and three wounded. I opened the blankets to see the dead bodies. Two of them were unrecognizable. The third one was Soro, who joined the YPG from England. Only one day before Soro had invited me to his emplacement and promised to give me an interview in due time. Seeing his lifeless body, filled my heart with enormous pain. But as help was needed, I went to the doctor.

His wounds were grave, from both his legs his bones were protruding. With his hand he was clutching his face. To inject him the serum, I had to open his hand. Only then I realized why they had given the task to me. The wounded comrade was Rodi from America. They had me speak English with him and to help the doctor inject the serum. Rodi whom I used to see almost every day for the past week, was soaked in blood.

All of a sudden, like a heavy blow to my head, I called 'Demhat!'...One day ago I had seen Rodi, Demhat and Soro behind a vehicle of the offensive group. Their faces were laughing brightly, they were headed to the war zone, what they were anticipating for a long time.

As Rodi was not able to form clear sentences at this moment, I refrained from asking to spare him exhaustion. After the emergency intervention on Rodi was over, even though I could speak the language I shouted somewhat aggressively at the group which transported the martyrs and wounded: "Demhat, Demhat!". All three of the foreigners had joined the unit only recently and therefore their names were yet not well known among the local units. After some time one of them came to me and said: "Demhat, the foreigner? The American?" I exclaimed: "Yes, Demhat." He answered only: "Şehid Demhat". From what they said I understood that the corpse of Demhat was in the hands of the ISIS gangs and that the SDF has started an operation to retrieve his body.

At sunrise the emergency station became a bit more quiet, everyone was having a break, but I was still waiting for Demhat. He would have come, he must have come...

I started to ponder about the meaning and importance of these hundreds of foreign fighters who have joined the YPG and even become martyrs of the revolution on this land entangled in a huge revolution. I thought about the brotherhood of the peoples around the world which these honourable sacrifices will forge. Once more my thoughts moved to Demhat and as I heard the siren of armoured vehicles I jerked up my head and started to dash forwards. Demhat has come. The eyes and the face of Demhat laughing brightly, reflecting his love for humans he bore in his chest...

After the doctor took first measures, he was once more loaded on the car and driven away...That night no one could sleep...The dead body of martyr Demhat came in a panzer graced with a picture oh him...

Demhat was not a fighter that spoke to the press, yet we had the honour to conduct the first and last interview with him. Ten days after my interview with him, Demhat has grown the more dearer to my heart.

Still, I can not convey the news of Demhat's martyrdom to Roza...

* This article first appeared on Yeni Özgür Politika newspaper and was translated by ANF English service.