Hope, fear and anger for families waiting for the end of the war

When the Kurdish Workers’ Party (PKK) announced last month that it would dissolve and end a decades-long rebellion against Turkey, Leila hoped she would reunite with her son soon.

Three years ago, the former sandwich seller left his home and joined the group – being banned by Turkey, the United States, the United Kingdom and the European Union on the remote Qandil Hill near the Iraq-Iranian border.

Lera has never seen him since then, except for the two videos he sent, the last one in March.

“I was happy when I first heard the news,” Laila said. We changed our name because she was worried about the revenge of the group.

“But as time goes by, nothing changes.”

The PKK has been warring against Turkey for 40 years, killing more than 40,000 people, many of them civilians and the longest-running conflict in the world.

Some families spoken by the BBC condemned the Workers’ Party of Kurdistan (PKK), while others proudly spoke about how family members fought for the group and believed that such sacrifice paved the way for peace talks.

The PKK announcement that it would cease fighting is a historical moment for Türkiye, Kurdish minorities and neighbors sweeping by conflict.

But since then, no formal peace process with Türkiye has begun, no formal ceasefire, and reports say both sides are still continuing.

Originally established to fight for an independent Kurdish state in Turkey, the PKK has shifted its focus since the 1990s to demand greater cultural and political autonomy over the Kurds.

Leila, of the Iraqi semi-autonomous Kurdish region bordering Turkey, said she hadn’t even heard of the PKK until her twenties-in-twenties-in-twenties-in-one son.

She accused her son of “brainwashing” groups and convinced him to defend the Kurdish minority in Türkiye, Iraq, Syria and Iran. The Kurds are the fourth largest race in the Middle East, but there is no country.

Laila said that over time, her son began to become more independent, lying in bed, washing clothes and dishes. Now, she thinks the PKK is preparing for him the hard life he will soon live in the mountains.

On the day he left, he took three “comrades” home and told his mother that he was going to the mountain to start six months of training.

She said she repeatedly tried to dissuade him from joining the PKK, but he was determined to go.

“He was so determined. It would be useless to argue with him.”

Since then, Laila says she goes to the Kandill Mountains regularly in hope of a glimpse of her son, but never saw him.

“I would be happy if they asked me to see him once a year,” she said.

The BBC heads to the Qandil Mountains, where the Workers’ Kurdish Party (PKK) is filmed rarely.

The mountainous areas are sparsely populated and famous for their natural scenery, which can help keep thousands of PKK fighters from Turkish air strikes.

The journey took hours, driving along narrow and rough roads, in a residential area where there were few signs of living except for a few farmers and shepherds.

When the BBC approached the PKK checkpoint, we saw a large picture of Abdullah Ocalan, the leader and founding member of the group – imprisoned on a mountain by Turkey since 1999. However, when the BBC arrived at the checkpoint, the Workers’ Party of Kurdish (PKK) refused us to enter.

The PKK authorities were later told that we were in talks with the group and they did not want media attention.

They did not say what the conversation was about, although Iraqi Foreign Minister Fuad Mohamed Hussein told the BBC last month that the discussion would be held with the PKK, Turkey, Iraq and Kurdistan regional governments to discuss how the group’s weapons would be handed over.

So far, the terms of the peace agreement between Türkiye and the PKK are unclear.

The PKK told the BBC in a written statement that it was sincere and serious about the process, insisting that its leader Ocalan must be released.

“The ball is now in the courts in Turkey. The peace process cannot be developed based on unilateral steps,” said Zagros Hiwa, a spokesman for the Kurdish Kurdish Democratic Community Alliance (KCK), an umbrella organization of the Kurdish Kurdish Kurdish province.

But to show the barriers to the future, a senior local commander, who was part of the second leadership within the Iraqi group, told the BBC in a written statement that he believed the disarmament was “not for discussion.”

He also remains suspicious about Türkiye’s intentions, adding: “Warriors are useless to both sides when we resolve the causes of the armed conflict.”

Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan is clearly willing to end the conflict with the PKK, some explaining that it attracts Kurdish support for the new constitution to expand his 22-year rule, which he denies.

He described the decision to disband as an important step towards the “our terrorism-free turkey goal.”

The Turkish president wrote on X that a new era is about to begin after “eliminating terror and violence.”

The idea that the conflict may end soon is painful for some families whose loved ones were killed as PKK.

Kawa Takoor was 21 years old when he was killed two years ago. His sister Rondek Takoor lives in Sulaimaniya, Kurdish city, Iraq, and was last seen on Qandil Hill in 2019.

Rondek said in the family home that Kawa’s photos adorn the living room walls and that her brother’s death changed the family’s life. “I always dream about him,” she said tearfully.

Lundke, who is in his twenties, still remembers the last conversation they had together.

“I asked him if he wanted to go home with me and he said ‘never’. He even asked me to join his hills.”

For Rondek and her family, they are Pro-Pkk, and the disbandment of the group is both a moment of “pride and pain, especially after our huge losses”.

She believes that “it is the sacrifice we have made and the martyrs we have lost, paving the way for leaders to talk about peace.”

What happened next was uncertain.

There are questions about what happens in thousands of Turkish provinces and provinces and whether they are allowed to reintegrate into Turkish society.

Turkish officials have not said whether the fighters will be considered criminals and face prosecution. But Turkish media reports suggest that while PKK leaders may be forced to exile to other countries or demand to remain in Iraq, fighters that have not yet committed crimes in Turkey may return without fear of prosecution.

It is unclear what the dissolution of the group means for other Kurdish groups, especially in northeast Syria, which Türkiye sees as a separation of the Workers’ Kurdish Party.

During the Syrian Civil War, Turkish troops and Turkish-backed Syrian combatants launched a series of offensives to occupy the border area held by Syrian Kurdish militias, known as the People’s Protection Force (YPG).

The YPG ruled the alliance of Kurds and Arab militias called the Syrian Democratic Forces, which drove the Islamic State group out of a quarter of Syria with the help of a U.S.-led multinational coalition.

YPG said it was a unique entity of the PKK, but Türkiye rejected that and used it as a terrorist organization.

Erdogan said the decision to dissolve the Workers’ Party of Kurdish (PKK) should “cover all expansions of organizations in northern Iraq, Syria and Europe”. SDF commander Mazloum Abdi said the PKK decision “paved the way for a new political and peace process in the region”.

However, he also said that the disarmament of the KDP’s KD Party does not apply to the SDF, which merged a separate agreement with the Syrian armed forces in December.

In Iran, PJAK Group, which is also part of KCK, told BBC Turkish that it supports Türkiye’s “new process” but it does not intend to undo or dissolve itself.

PJAK is designated as a terrorist organization by Türkiye and Iran. Since 2011, there has been a de facto ceasefire between the group and the Iranian government.

Türkiye says PJAK is the Iranian department that trades Minwu, but Kurdish groups deny that.

For mothers like Leila, all the complexity of politics and the complex balance of military power throughout the region are irrelevant. What she cares about is being with her son again.

“When he gets tired of the hard life in the mountains, he will come home and at some point he will realize he will never accept it again.”

If this happens, Laira plans to leave their hometown, where her son is recruited by the PKK.

“This city has only caused me pain.”