It was Tuesday, June 6, 2023. I woke up at the crack of dawn, had a quick snack with a cup of tea and darted out of my house for a six mile walk on the Billy Goat Trail about fifteen minutes from my house. I have been doing this since last fall—ever since I got this idea that I should walk from DC to Manhattan—from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial to the entrance of the United Nations building in New York.

Tuesday, I thought, was going to be just like any other day—till it wasn’t.

The trail is frequented by Washington types, people who enjoy starting their days early with walks or runs before their showers and breakfasts. As it happens, when you run into the same people on the same roads, you start noticing each other and then greeting one another and finally talking to each other as travelers often do when they share the same spaces together.

I became part of this ritual with a couple in their 60s. Our initial silent acknowledgements, followed by good mornings, led to its first conversation on that memorable Tuesday. I was finishing my two-hour hike. They were just starting theirs and getting something out of their car’s trunk. Seeing me, they acknowledged me and one of them showed me a photo of a young girl and asked me if I could identify her?

I was, of course, clueless, and said so with a smile on my face. It turned out to be hers from her carefree days as a teenager.

“I was young and healthy,” she said wistfully.

“You are still young and healthy,” I rejoined, remembering that I had seen her climb the rocks along the Potomac River like a gymnast.

“I can even vouch for the healthy part,” I said, “because I have seen you sweating on the trail like an athlete.”

We then introduced ourselves to each other. Margaret was her name. “I am Nancy,” her friend volunteered.

Margaret, looking at me said, “You do a lot of sweating yourself and are in good health too.”

I am in good health all right, but it isn’t my concern for health that is making me wake up to the sound of my alarm clock at 4:30 in the mornings—it is my faith in nonviolent politics. Now that I had my elevator-ride moment with Margaret and Nancy, what was I going to tell them about my relentless training that had gotten their attention because of its repetition on their path? With all the clarity and conciseness that I could muster, I told them the following:

“I am actually in training. I am getting ready to walk from DC to Manhattan.”

Nancy interposed with a startling tone, “What for?”

“For human rights. For freedom,” I said. I continued, “One hundred years ago, the European great powers and their Middle Eastern versions in Western Asia partitioned Kurdistan, the land of the Kurds, my people. Two new states, French Syria, English Iraq and two old states, Turkey and Iran were given the title deed. I am walking 330 miles to draw attention to this colossal wrong. I am asking the United Nations to honor its charter by appointing a Special Representative to address the plight of 50 million stateless Kurds in the Middle East.”

It was a mouthful, I know, but I felt good unloading the unbearable Kurdish burden. “A problem shared becomes half,” goes the old adage.

“I will support you,” Nancy said while giving me an emphatic look and glancing at Margaret at the same time. She then added, “A dollar for every mile that you walk.”

I flashed them my biggest smile ever and gave each a card from the cardholder of my phone. Margaret did the same in reverse. Nancy gave me the look of I can reach her via Margaret. I then bid them farewell for the day.

A smile accompanied my face all day that day. I still smile whenever I remember Margaret and Nancy. If you are a lover of dignity and liberty—the name of my walk, the same is bound to happen to you as well.

My training will come to an end on Friday, June 30^th. On Saturday, July 1^st, I will be visiting the Lincoln Memorial at 10:00 AM and start walking across the founding heartland of America to reach Manhattan on Monday, July 24^th, 2023. The date will mark the centenary of the Treaty of Lausanne—the international agreement that sanctioned the dismemberment of Kurdistan.

An international conspiracy condemned the Kurds to a life of subjugation. An international effort guided with the better angels of our nature can free them from it. My walk is a call for the right of a people to call themselves, Kurds, and their homeland, Kurdistan.